North by Northwest

Sparkling ocean stretches as far as the eye can see. The world I live in is beautiful.

I have been cautioned against raising my head out of the water. Better that they think us extinct, the elders say, than to give them reason to think we may be worth enslaving as well.

Our distant cousins, the Equestrians, have not spoken to us in many years. They stood us up for negotiations, and the Atlanteans were furious. They believed that we had requested our cousins not attend so as to keep more land from them. The Atlanteans believed that we wanted a barren strip of land that nopony cared about in the first place. They decided to go to war over it.

We won, of course. The Atlanteans attacked, we decimated their forces, then we chased after their retreating backs. We didn’t want another war, ever, and so we destroyed all able fighting forces. All who resisted were put down. We allowed the women and children to live, and Atlantica became a province of Aquastria. There is now no discernation between the inhabitants, so intermixed are we.

That, at least, is what the history books tell us.

The whispered words of the crazies and the lunatics tells of a different story. They tell of massacre, a true genocide that they were beholden to. They tell of a society, corrupt at its very core, wiping its bloodied hands on the corpse of its foe and claiming innocence. None of them agree on who started it, but they all agree on who ended it, and they say the history books lie. Today, there is no such thing as an Atlantean, because they weren’t even sea-ponies, and you don’t see any Aquastrians except sea-ponies now because the Atlanteans were never given a chance to become Aquastrians in the first place.

It has taken twenty years for the whispers to finally quiet down. The crazies and the lunatics have been disappearing, one by one, by sea-ponies who wear dark sunglasses and strange devices in their ears. They speak in absolutes and make demanding suggestions and find those who still whisper of the Atlantean War. They offer discussion and carriage rides, and the crazies and the lunatics never come back.

I am terrified, not of the truth, but of knowing the truth. I wonder at times where the carriage goes, but it scares me too greatly to consider it, so I stray away.

I still have not strayed far from Aquastria’s borders. I have been told numerous times that journeying is no aspiration of such a young sea-pony as I. They demand chores, menial labor, and ceaseless attention to my studies. I do as I am told... most of the time.

Now, as I do every week, I am breaking the rules of my parents. I gaze out upon the vast expanse of nothingness in the world above, fascinated with everything there is to see. I take a breath of air, using an organ that the books say are not in sea-pony anatomy, but are present in large animals that dwell near the surface and must come here for air. This is yet another lie told to me by the books.

I ask my parents occasionally why I should study books that contain false information. They tell me that crazies and lunatics have no claim to knowledge of history, and that I am mistaken in my observations of lung usage, not the science book. They claim that I fill my head with foalish notions, that I have fabricated a dream-like existence around me to make my life more exciting.

I am the realist. They are the dreamers.

I know the reality which I live in, don’t I? Black Cat has returned. I found a letter in a bottle floating in the sea once which told me that. Our cousins in Equestria asked for help. When I showed the message to my parents, they took it from me and told me to stop making up stories. They told me that Equestria uses a different language than we do, that I should know that if I study as hard as I say I do. Those were words from me, an adventure that I had made up in my head to pretend my life was more exciting than it is.

I don’t want excitement. I want to know.

I sigh into the warm, breezy air. There is nothing for me at home, were I to go back. There is also nothing here, on the surface, where sea-ponies are not meant to be. If I were to want to feel particularly melancholic, I’d say that I don’t belong anywhere.

Just before I submerge my head once more, my eye catches a glimmer of movement on the horizon.

Surely a trick, but I do not sink my head below the water. My eyes continue to watch for this glimmer. Surely it was only a trick; there is nothing on the surface anymore.

There is something, however. I see two masts, little more than dots on the horizon, coming toward me. My mind immediately fills itself with possibilities of what these might be. The history books said that no creatures sail ships anymore, not since Equestria was destroyed and rebuilt upon its newly enslaved inhabitants, according to the history book. This is too fascinating for words to behold.

Against all better judgment, I must investigate. I begin swimming slowly toward the two ships, picking up speed as I further convince myself that I must know what these things are. They are coming toward me as I am going toward them, so I near them quickly. I analyze my position based on a quick dunk below the water and estimate that they are still outside of the Aquastrian border. They will only pass near it, not within it, based on their current course. I will have to break the law to get near these ships.

Aquastrian law, to me, is a joke in the first place. The legal documents say we can say what we want to about anything, but if it is in the interest of the elders, they may censor speech. They claim that this is due to their superior wisdom, but I believe they are the ones who want us to censor the crazies and the lunatics. Why should I be afraid to follow these boats?

I know what I am getting myself into. That will not change my decision.

A few more minutes places me within the shadow of the nearer boat. I submerge myself to inspect their flotation properties as well as their movement through the water, determining that the sails I saw on the top are currently their only means of propulsion due to the speed at which they are moving, the breeze which I observed on the surface, and the lack of other water disturbance. I wonder if they only go wherever their sails take them? And the piece of wood on the back acts like my back fin, angling to dictate the direction of the boat. The mechanics are simple, yet efficient, and give me ideas for how to produce a similar means of transportation. I will have to diagram this in one of my notebooks when I get home.

Having studied the underside as thoroughly as I may, I rise once more to the surface to look at the upper portion of the ship. There are windows along both sides, and a railing to hold the ponies within. I see some of these ponies in the elaborate system of ropes that are holding the sails in place, allowing the sailors to adjust them as they see fit. They swing deftly about on their four legs, making small adjustments and calling to one another, clearly in Aquastrian. They do speak the same language!

I hear one of them call to another, “Storm’s comin’ in! We better batten ‘em down ‘fore we get our sheets tore clean off!”

A pony I can’t see says, “Yeh, we oughta. Take ‘em down, boys!”

The sails then seem to be writhing with ponies everywhere, moving around and adjusting the voluminous fabric, tying them to the mast, killing their acceleration and setting them to drift wherever the waves would take them. The entire thing happens in a blur; I’d imagine it was completed in less than a minute.

I hear a series of clunking sounds around the ship, presumably from crew members performing some duty. I begin circling for a closer look, not taking as careful of notice of my surroundings as I had been due to my curiosity being consumed.

Before I know it, some of the ropes have wrapped themselves around me, holding me near the ship. I immediately begin struggling, but several of the ropes shift, dragging themselves painfully across my skin and tightening their grasp. I am trapped.

In my panic, I let out a cry of fear. I hear the deck of the ship fall totally silent, then I feel the ropes dragging me somewhere, up, out of the water, and landing roughly on the ship. I’m on a large flat portion made out of wood, but fashioned somehow, unlike the driftwood I’d seen. I didn’t think there was this much wood in the entire world, let alone enough to make two ships out of.

A pony with a scraggly beard peers at me with one eye, the other tightly shut, and starts speaking into my face, his breath smelling like a conglomeration of dead fish carcass and squid feces. “Why, a sea-pony! I ain’t seen me one o’ dem since, eh...” he scratches the back of his head, “why, since them Aquastrians declared war on us!” He adjusts his soddy black hat, worn from what seems like years of service, on his head and smiles. “’So ‘ow’s the old place been? They acceptin’ any commonponies again? Or still got de blockade?”

I stare at them with abject horror. My mind is frozen; I can’t think of anything to say.

The pony looks at me with some confusion. “Wot? Dey change the language, too? Can ya unnerstand me, sea-pony?”

Finally, something I know how to reply to. “Acknowledge.”

His face screws up in confusion. “Acka-what now? You tryinn’a make fun o’ me in fron’o’ me boys’r summat?”

No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say. “It’s a pony Aquastria found. Lost Equestria in a bottle and sea-ponies ponies. Ropes and Equestria sea-ponies sail ships. War Equestrians and lungs?”

Well, that could have come out a little more straightforward. The pony has a look of absolute shock on his face. One of the other ponies, this sailor wearing a tight-fitting bandana made out of what looks like a sail, nudges his fellow pony in the ribs and asks, “Dis one stupid, Cap?”

“Well, I can’t make heads’r tails o’ wot dis one’s sayin. She’s gotta be broke’r summat.” He shrugs to his crew. “Keep ‘er on the deck fer now. We’ll see if it’s just shock’r summat.” He leans in close to me, breathing all over my face again and making me gag. “Ye’re an int’restin’ one, fer sure. We ain’t seen a sea-pony outside o’ Aquastrian waters in a real long time now. I aim t’ find out wot ye’re doin’ out ‘ere.”

I give one last attempt to explain myself. “Bottled Aquastrian ships confuse. National borders make no sense. Fishes and water and Aquastria. Acknowledge.”

Cap shakes his head and turns away. “Jus’ make sure she don’t slip over the rail’r nuffin’, will ya?”

His crew nods dumbly, lifting me bodily and carrying me near the big center mast of the ship. They tie me to it, so what small amount of flailing I can do is pointless. My skin starts to dehydrate almost immediately, as it is not made to be out of the water for very long. It’s a good thing a storm is coming in soon. The rope scratches against my sensitive skin, rubbing it raw quickly and causing my skin to burn with pain wherever it touches.

I know better than to struggle, so I stay as still as possible instead. Trying to escape will only make things more painful and dry me out more quickly. The wisest course of action at this point is to conserve as much energy as possible.

Instead of saving my energy, I become acutely aware that one of the sailors is staring at me. She looks smaller than the others and is wearing a loose-fitting purple cape marked with yellow and light blue stars. In her mane is a bright red flower, something I saw an illustration of in one of my books. Her coat is also a light blue that is darker than the stars on her cape, and her mane a very pale, almost whitish-blue hue. She gazes at me with startlingly purple eyes, unflinching as she silently judges me.

I turn and stare back at her, my vision just as unwavering. We sit like that for a time, locked in a mental duel, neither one of us wanting to back down. I have nothing better to do at this point in time, so I feel I will outlast her.

After several minutes of our staring contest, the pony’s face splits into a grin and she trots up to me. She sticks out her hoof and says, “Nice to meet you, Sea-Pony.”

“Is Aquastrian, Equestria in a bottle, sea-pony is pony is history science pony. Blue Equestria wooden ship home bottle Equestria?”

She seems perplexed for a moment, then asks, “You don’t like talking much, do you? Just shake your head like this if you say yes,” then she demonstrates herself bobbing it up and down, “or like this if you say no,” and she turns it from side to side.

“Equestria pony isn’t bottle Equestria? History pony is stupid ship lungs.” Another misunderstanding gaze greets me.

“Look, just nod or shake your head, okay? I wanna be friends, but I dunno how to talk to you yet.” She smiles at me, prompting me to smile in return. “See? Now, do you like talking, Sea-Pony?” I shake my head vigorously. “Okay, can you tell me your name?”

There is a long moment of silence. I work up the courage to talk. “Aquastria in a bottle lungs Seawinkle of Equestria pony name bottle friends Aquastria sea-pony wooden ship Aquastria to sea urchin a lung in Equestria. Not very Seawinkle when Aquastria lungs.”

She listens to me talk with single-minded attention, then says, “Okay, let’s figure this out from what you said. Is your name Aquastria?” I shake my head. “Bottle?” I shake my head again. “Is it, uh... what other words did you say? Oh, is your name Equestria?” I sigh and shake my head. “Wait, wait, I’ve got this! How about Sea Urchin?” Another shake? “Seawinkle?” I begin nodding my head furiously.

She freezes, then repeats, “Seawinkle? That’s your name?” At my continued nodding, she says, “My name is Sweet Pea. It’s nice to meet you, Seawinkle.” She smiles and touches my skin. “Heheh, it feels a little funny. You don’t have any fur, do you?”

I am about to start shaking my head, then a big drop of water lands on it, splashing across my face. Sweet Pea looks up, then back down at me. “I should probably go inside. The storm is starting.” She smiles and begins to move away.

I begin pushing against the ropes, which immediately chafe my skin, and I begin bleeding a little. “Bottle in Equestria! Seawinkle the Aquastria! Not Equestria sea urchin! Science lung! Ship Sweet Pea of the ropes Equestria!”

She looks back at me. “Oh, you don’t want to be tied up, do you? But the ship’s captain will probably get mad at me if I do....”

I say nothing, only struggling slightly against the ropes as I simply look at her in desperation, somehow hoping my eyes can convey enough meaning to her that she will understand how afraid I truly am. I keep looking at her, then she sighs, and the middle of her forehead glows purple under her hat. I feel the ropes loosen around me, then fall down. I can move again.

Sweet Pea shouts, “Go, Seawinkle! Get out of here! Run—I mean, swim! Wait, no, there’s no water... oh, fine!” Her forehead glows again, then I am lifted into the air, where I am then flown over the side of the ship and dropped unceremoniously back into the water.

I stay on the surface briefly, Sweet Pea rushing to the railing and telling me, “Go, go!”

I then hear a small amount of scuffling on the deck and Sweet Pea disappears. I then hear Cap telling her, “Wot? You let ‘er go? You do realize ‘ow long we ain’t seen a sea-pony fer, don’t ya?” There is a sigh and a short silence, then Cap continues, “I ain’t sure wot t’do with ya yet. There’s gotta be some punishment exacted fer this, though what I can punish a little filly like you with ain’t much.” The sound of hooves drumming across the floor of the ship sounds as Cap finishes with, “C’mon, ya miserable sods, let’s ‘ead down below. Storm’s about ‘ere.”

A torrent of rain begins almost immediately, prompting little shouts from some of the sailors. I hear the door latch, then all is silent, save for the washing of the water across the wooden ship.

I am alone. With my thoughts, with my self. I am all alone.