Operation Firework

When you hit the water, it doesn't sound like a splash. Doesn't sound like anything.

You witness the black waters of the North Luna Ocean rush towards you, and past you. It happens so fast; the next thing you know, you're underwater. Strange; you expected the sea to be much colder. Perhaps it's just warmer than the Windigo-worshipping cult by comparison. The cool water feels so relaxing, washing over the stress and struggles of the past battle. You could drift here forever if you really wanted to.

Tempest.

You open your eyes in realisation; you haven't seen her since she fell in before you. Where is she!? The night sky above the surface is too dark. There's no way to see. No way to tell.

In your panic to find her, any hint of her, you loose a small string of bubbles from your snout. You don't want to get to the surface yet. Not until you know she's safe.

Tempest! Tempest, where are you!? Please... I need to find her.

As if your prayers had finally been answered, the surface ignites in a bright, brilliant orange; the gunpowder barrels had finally gone off, sending that accursed ship of the frozen fiends to oblivion. The deep, almost unending ocean lights up as the frigate becomes a huge, floating bonfire above. Almost no fish or corals are present; just water and more water. But one thing stands out in the depths far, too far, below...

There's a familiar glint of golden metal that reflects the raging fires above. Tempest!

Wasting no time, you swim after her. She's trying desperately to swim up, yet still sinking. Though your eyes aren't perfect underwater, you understand what's happening; her gold-painted Storm King armour. It's too heavy. She's already discarded her horseshoes in an attempt to make herself lighter, but it's not enough.

You keep swimming downwards, until you feel your lungs burn and your limbs ache. The only thing pushing you to carry on is that she's been underwater for much longer than you. And if she can handle it...

But she can't. Even from this far away, you can tell she's no longer trying to swim upwards. Instead, her hooves start scrambling with whatever has her armour locked as she sinks deeper and deeper. Her rear legs kick in frustration - or was it panic - as a short torrent of bubbles burst forth from her lips.

You need to get to her now! But she's too far away.

You could teleport to her.

Yes. Yes you could! But there's no guarantee you'd be able to teleport back to the surface. Heck, there's no guarantee that you won't pass out from the overexertion just by reaching her that way; you've been teleporting far too much, and in such a short time.

But she's drowning. She's drowning and she needs you.

Get to her.

Trying to conserve what little magical energies you have remaining, your pained, airless mind estimates exactly how far down you need to go. Preparing yourself for the pain you're about to endure, you reach out to your partner, and teleport.

You make sure to leave your ornate Elite Guard armour behind as you do it; whatever lightens the load at this point. In a flash that lights up more of the dark, wet world all around, you reappear just in front of Tempest's panicked face. Her hooves reach out to grab you instantly, and your hooves grab hers. Suddenly, the disorienting pain comes back. Serves you right for teleporting.

You can't hold back the screams as your mind as assaulted by the worst overexertion pains a unicorn has ever had to endure. Tempest can only look on helplessly as the excruciating pain wrecks your head. The strain is so intense, you could swear you were going blind behind one eye. You fight your natural instinct to breathe in after that scream; now your lungs hurt too.

Through your clouded vision, you see what Tempest was trying to do; one of the latches on her armour had become frozen solid; it's why she couldn't undo it. Must've been when that sick cultist put his hoof on her.

You know you don't stand a chance of undoing the latch yourself, either. Tempest's pleading eyes are telling you to teleport her out. You know that would mean the death of you; the spell you just cast was the last one in you. Teleporting anything else at this point would make you pass out, and in this case, certainly drown.

You decide it's worth it. For Tempest Shadow.

Your horn lights up again; you give your magic one request: up. Send her up. She needs air. Send her up for air.

And then you telep-

Huh? Nothing happens.

And then you tele-

Nothing!

You try a third time! You can't teleport her! It's not working! You're both too far from the surface for the spell to take her where you want it to. Even if you're sending her up by herself, you couldn't teleport a pony more than a few feet at most. Your chest tightens even more, burning for air. You push it out of your mind for as long as you can.

Tempest's lips quiver, as if she's trying to mouth something to you. But before you can figure it out, another burst of bubbles spew forth from her. One of her hooves let go of you just to cover her mouth in sheer desperation, her eyes wide with fear. Poor girl. She doesn't deserve this.

"Well, you can teleport, right? That's your whole shtick. The boat's all the way out to sea. Teleport us! I want to crack some skulls."

You look towards the boat in the distance, then back to Tempest. "I can't."

"Why not!? You did it with our armour, no problem!"

"It's easy to teleport nearby inanimate objects," you explain.

That's it. If you don't have the power to teleport Tempest, perhaps you could just shift the armour that's dragging her down! She'd still have to swim up to safety, though. And you still might die from the strain. In fact, at this point, it's almost certain.

Oh, to Tartarus with it!

Your horn glows. You grasp Tempest's gold-painted armour, look her right in the eyes, mouth goodbye, then cast your spell.

The armour flashes a few feet to the side, then promptly sinks. You decided not to teleport her jumpsuit this time; it could make for less water resistance for her on the way up. You take one last look in her face just as the overexertion takes you. Her beautiful eyes. Her proud scars. Her fuchsia mane that dances like fire in the water. Her broken horn that, despite how much she hates it, is perfect for her. To die looking at her, knowing you may very well have saved her, is a fine end for an Elite Operative.

Strange. You were expecting the last rush of mental pain to be more painful. Instead, your senses cut to black with a merciful snap.

*******

Is he dead? A voice inside Tempest Shadow's head whispers. Did you just witness him die? No! Nonononono! You have to save him!

It's a lost cause, another voice said. If you don't swim up for air right now, you're done for. Go! Now!

You... no! You can't just leave him here!

You'll never make it back up if you take him. Go it alone. It's how we've always done it.

The two voices that argue within Tempest Shadow's mind are all too familiar. In one side of her mind, Commander Tempest of the Storm King's Legion demands she leave her partner for the fish. In the other side of her mind, a quiet, innocent pony by the name of Fizzlepop Berrytwist pleads and beseeches her to save him.

A third, voiceless thought is there too. Her lungs, repeating the same word over and over, for every passing heartbeat.

Air. Air. Air.

The whole exchange takes place within a split-second of her partner passing out. Already, she makes up her mind.

Tempest wraps her hooves around her unconscious partner's waist, and kicks her back legs as hard as she can, straight for the surface. Since her hooves are busy pulling the Operative along, there's nothing to stop more precious air escaping from her snout. She grits her teeth in defiance. More air escapes.

It's not too late to drop him, you know, coos the Commander's voice.

Just push forward! Please! He did it for you! begs Fizzlepop's voice.

Air. Air. Air!

The surface seems so far away, but she's only just started. Tempest quickly rearranged her limbs, one foreleg hooked around the Operative this time, her other free foreleg being used to swim faster. The more she moves, however, the more desperate she becomes.

It's not worth it, girl. You can always get another partner if you miss this one.

He's done so much for you! He accepted you even though he knew who you were! He made you feel comfortable with your scars! He called you beautiful! He fought alongside you! He sacrificed his own chance of survival for you!

Air! Air! AIR!

Tempest's back legs are starting to tire. She simply kicks faster and harder. Her chest twitches and convulses out of sheer urgency; even if there's no air, it just wants to TRY breathing! She's at least halfway there, right? Right!?

Listen to me! If you don't ditch him right now, you'll BOTH die! Is that what you want? You want his sacrifice to be worth NOTHING!?

It's not a sacrifice if we both make it. It's a rescue. It's a successful mission. It's a better life for everyone.

AIR! AIR! AIR!

Her lungs have reached their limit; all she can do is tell her limbs to keep kicking. She's almost at the surface! She can feel the heat of the burning ship above! But there's nothing she can do to stop the unending stream of bubbles, her precious air, from pouring out between her lips. In her oxygen-deprived mind, she figures if she can't stop the air from leaving, she might as well use it to scream.

Hey, it's your funeral, me. Your burial-at-sea. I just wanted to make this clear: When I said "The best way to survive is all alone"... I was right.

You're going to make it. You've survived much worse than this and you know it! Please...

AIR! AIR! AIR!

She's so close now, but her legs aren't kicking anymore. Can she even feel them!? Jarring her limbs into working again, she convulses one limb at a time to push her those last few feet. Her stinging lungs now completely empty, her impulsions override her dwindling senses, and she starts to breathe in water. She can only cough and writhe against it as the surface slowly crawls within hoof's reach... and despite the bright, glowing fires above, her vision only grows darker.

Air! Air. Air...