//------------------------------//
// 11. Fair Winds and Following Seas 
// Story: A Sailor's Notes 
// by Thunderblast 
//------------------------------//

Gunshots rang out, but none of the threatening variety. Three members of the Navy Ceremonial Guard Firing Party, supervised like a hawk by a fourth, simultaneously fired off their M14 rifles out to sea at her command. Finely attired with the most pristine of dress uniforms, these particular sailors and any other present this morning far outdid the number of townsponies attending. Due to my lack of proper apparel for the matter with such little notice, it was ultimately my mother's decision to let me don my Junior Officer uniform.

If I had to guess, almost everypony in Gander Cove was here, and for once the sky had cleared just enough to see the gorgeous blue beyond the overcast that typically blankets the island, as if by request or mere prayer alone, though little could be done regarding the persisting chill that left even me shivering under my clothes.

"Ready." The commander of the firing party called, and the sailors lowered their weapons from aim position. 

"Chambers." At that order, their other hoof lifted to the side of the chamber and take hold of the cocking handle.

"Round." The three sailors tugged back on the bolt, ejecting the spent cartridge to load a fresh round into the rifle's chamber with a hard click of the hammer sliding back and cocking into place.

"Aim." She commanded, monotone as the previous three. The trio of M14s raised to roughly a 45-degree angle, directed out toward the east of the ocean. "Fire!"

For a second time, a unified bang of all three rifles firing echoed down the hill slope and reverberated off the forest marking the edge of town. In spite of anticipating the noise, it jutted me some in my seat, prompting Mom to gently hold my hoof.

The small cemetery just narrowly within town's corporation limits sat in the shadow of the lighthouse, near the top of Beacon Hill, one of the highest points on the island that overlooked the sleepy marina and the glistening ocean to the east and south, and even some parts of the tree-shrouded naval station a couple miles north. Elevation wise, the hill in which our house sat on was still higher, though not by a lot; perhaps a difference of ten or fifteen feet. 

In the exact center of the graveyard stood a granite statue of a bearded draft stallion holding the wheel of a boat in his hooves with a real medium-sized anchor leaning against the back of it, erected to commemorate sailors civilian or military who have been buried here over the course of time.

I just wish it had not been somepony so close to me to become the newest addition to this sorrowful place. But what better way brings the family together, as horrible as that is to say? Mom's sister, my aunt, was here, seated to her left, while I sat to her right in the forward row of chairs. To my right sat Dad's older brother and step-mother, dressed to their finest in black or navy blues, as allotted by an old nautical funeral tradition.

"Ready," the commander instructed again, preparing her party for the third and final shot. "Chambers." Again, their hooves drew back to the bolt. "Round." Tugging back, the spent bullet cartridge ejected to the ground, and the release allowed for another new round to take its place. "Aim."

I closed my eyes. This time, I would remain statue still as the final salute rang out.

"Fire!"


⚓


The post-burial ceremony gathering at home interested me none. A small period in between events allowed some of the attendees to bring what I question considering to be party items such as food and drinks. Sure, they called it a funeral reception, with the purpose of it to spend time together to mourn the passed.

Of course, outside of the time taken out of their day to pay their respects at the burial, a large number of the townsponies continued their routine as if it were any other typical winter afternoon. In all, there were maybe ten or eleven of our neighbors downstairs in addition to my mother, aunt, uncle, and step-grandmother.

I'm sure they all questioned my presence, too. After helping out with setting up for the reception, Mom relieved me to my own thing, and that was to sulk in my room for the rest of the day. Or the rest of my life. At that moment, I cared so little about how long I would spend alone.

Every so often I would find myself gazing blankly out my bedroom window to a sliver of the house next door and the towering tree tops shrouding it. When I'd realize, I turned myself over to lay flat on my back and stare up at the empty ceiling with my wings half sprawled out on my sides. For some odd reason, I could not bear to so much as peek outside as something about it brought on dark thoughts from that corner of my mind.

One ear perked some at the twisting of a doorknob, subsequently followed by gentle creaking of my bedroom door slowly parting way. Out of the corner of my eye, in the door jam, stood a shorter-maned butter yellow filly no more than a few months older than I. Her soft, steady orange cores fixed on me as she halted there.

"What do you want?" I groaned out in a moderately exasperated manner, with such low volume that no one beyond where she stood could possibly hear. A faint voice in my head scolded my larger conscience for it.

Misty closed the door behind her, releasing the knob only after it was fully shut to minimize noise produced. After all, it would echo down the hall and the staircase, which didn't need to happen today for the sake of respect. "I'm sorry I couldn't come to the service earlier, had other matters that unfortunately came first. Figured you could use some company apart from the usual family."

I laid silent there for a long moment before finally mustering a fired response. "That's why you came? Just to... sit here, stare at me, and say a few words?"

Her brow lifted some as a result, prompting the filly to slide herself up beside the edge of my bed as a sort of attempt to put herself in my unfocused field of view. "You know, I would have guessed the Anchorage I knew well would be open to the idea of discussing his feelings in a time like this. What changed?"

At that, I tossed myself over onto my other side to face the wall. "What changed? Hmm, I don't know. Have you ever lost somepony you cared about?"

Misty's ears faltered some, and while trying to prevent herself from choking up too much, the hurt was very much evident in her voice. "I feel like I am right this second."

Her continued presence was working its way to ticking me off. Actually, I think it was already to that point. "Oh, cry me a river with your sentiment, Misty. I ask to be left alone just for a few hours and I can't even get that in my own home!"

There was an abrupt silence, only to be broken moments later. "Is that how we're playing today?" That's when I noticed a deep change in her demeanor, one not far off from the tone used when she is about to knock somepony's lights out on the school playground.

Suddenly I felt her hoof latch on to my shoulder and pull on it, forcing me onto my back. Taken aback by the move, I quickly discovered she had me almost effortlessly pinned to my bed... and those eyes, cores consisting of pure flame and fury glared down upon me.

"Get offa me!" I demanded, gathering enough will and energy to thrash back against the rather strong filly's hold. Despite some of my best efforts, she continued to keep me in one spot.

"Who are you really?!" snarled Misty, leaning her head down until her muzzle only distanced a meager few inches from my face, applying more pressure to my shoulders without causing too much pain. "Because, if this is still you, Anchorage, I am going to give you one hell of a reality check.

"Life has obstacles. Everypony overcomes them eventually, sooner or later than others. Your most recent wall that you've hit just so happens to be your father passing, and your emotions and heart completely shattering is completely justified in your case. It shows you have a heart and care for others around you.

"But, the manner in which you are handling this?" Misty shook her head in disapproval. "Mm-mm, no! I guarantee you shutting everyone out who is trying to help will not get you over the hurdles. You know what else? It will leave you perpetually lingering on these negative, degrading feelings until the day that you die. Do you want to be miserable the rest of your life?!"

Her words cut deep. Every last one of them did. It allowed me to finally realize what I've become, and what I was on my way to becoming, and neither held a positive outlook on my future. Despite this, the emotions inside swirled intensely like a hurricane, twisting my stomach into knots and carving at my chest with a dagger consisting solely of the memories of my father's time as far back as I can reminisce.

My muscles began to loosen up, indicating to her that she was getting through my wall. No, she sliced through it like butter.

"Anchorage, look at me," she said, a thin edge to her voice, but it was noticeably softer. Slowly I drifted my gaze to meet hers as the flames doused, as she eased up on her hold on me and lightened her tone when she continued. "You just spent two months of your life by yourself in a city far from home, brought back only by tragedy. You are surrounded by loved ones, yet here you are turning yourself into a hermit crab, thinking it'll make things better. It won't.

"This behavior is absurd, especially from somepony as resilient as you. Hell, your mother even agrees with me!" Misty then took a seat along the edge of my bed, allowing me to sit upright. "Listen, I'm not telling you not to grieve. But perhaps your method isn't the greatest, and in turn is hurting others around you as a consequence. Unless that is what you had in mind all along?"

Slowly I shook my head, staring down toward the hardwood floor as my eyes glassed over. Now a second pain took aim for my soul, roughly as significant as the first. I couldn't bear to look her in the eye again.

"I-I don't know, like..." I breathed in shakily, hardly able to keep my voice together without cracking. "I'm a shell of my former self, Misty. A part of me just vanished when he did, and... I'm just... so broken."

I felt a pair of hooves loop around my side, and the torso of the filly pressing gently into my left wing. "So why don't we pick up the pieces? All four of us?" she spoke in a borderline whisper.

My eyes closed, squeezing a trace of water between eyelids that gradually crept their way down my cheeks. "A-Azeruth and Vixen... do they even still care about me, w-with how I've treated you all?"

Misty's grip around my body tightened some, giving further evidence of those muscles of hers. "Of course they care, Anchor. They're worried is all, as I was. They'll be elated to see you again and return to our old adventures, I hope?"

I lifted my chin and opened my eyes as they burned to the air's contact, head turning some to look at the yellow filly. At that, I offered a faint, reassuring smile, the first admittedly in a while. "Anything to get me out of the dumps, how could I say no?"

Deep down, I acknowledged my emotions. Perchance this was a step in the right direction to moving on, no matter how tough it may be.


⚓


In the days following the ceremonies, Mom and I still hadn't finished cleaning the house. Not that there was a whole lot to do to begin with apart from minor things, such as washing dishes and finally discarding that cheese dip that never made it back to the fridge.

To ease off the stress on Mom, I offered to handle the chores for her. As hard as it was to admit, some of these tasks were Dad's at one point, but somepony else had to do it now.

Frankly, it was one method to achieving a much needed wipe of the mind. Granted, I couldn't completely shake the thoughts that now gradually accepted the fact that he was gone, and I doubt I ever will.

While dusting off surfaces such as the living room coffee table, the mantle, and other horizontal faces, I paused only to reminisce at fixating onto a picture frame of us three together. It was a portrait purchased after our last visit to Winneighpeg Zoo before relocating here; Mom and Dad stood side by side, while I stood on his back with my forehooves laying through his mane. I was that small then? I thought to myself.

My gaze lifted to a single hanging picture frame that branched off into multiple small pictures of our little family. The surrounding photographs depicted some of our best documented memories as a trio dating back to my first steps as a foal, which I somehow remembered like it was yesterday. 

Then the center picture, the "trunk" of the photo tree, was a professionally-taken portrait of the three of us dressed to our finest before the leaves of autumn in the background. Mom wore a simple midnight blue dress, I sported my flannel plaid shirt, and Dad donned his dress whites. Any other picture of him in uniform, he bore the neutral mien of a commanding officer. But in this one, he smiled.

I drew in a breath to shove back the surge of emotion washing over, but nothing could stop at least two tears from rolling down my cheek. It wasn't until now, upon really focusing on these last pictures of him we still had, that truly compelled me to realize just how much I missed him. It hit me like a charging bull that my farewell to Alderneigh for the Junior Officer Naval Reserves was my final goodbye to him, and not a proper one as I wish I could have had. I guess that's how tragedy works.

It was over a minute before the realization came that I had begun to subconsciously clutch the duster to my chest, knowing well that it was Dad's prior. It felt... strange... taking responsibility in his absence. Many I think would call that reaching adulthood, but damn, this could not have been a worse way of doing so.

I let off a low sigh, folding my ears back partially. "To think I was havin' the time of my life, learning... somethin' new, with a friend of mine... and then, all of it just comes crashin' down in the blink of an eye."

A set of hooves clicked up from the kitchen, gentle clanks of glasses rattling on a wooden tray as Mom brought out a kettle of her lemon tea and two cups, placing it on the coffee table and walking to me. "Tragedy does not play fair, my little Anchorage. It waits for no one to be ready for its arrival."

Her hoof looped around the back of my neck, bringing my head closer some to nuzzle into my cheek. "I can't fathom how you felt, spending all that time down there with the horrific news running through your mind and waiting what I can imagine to be an eternity to come home..."

At that, I blinked twice, shifting my gaze to meet hers. "What are you on about, Mom? Reveille sent me home the morning after. There was a blizzard, the ferry was out of service that day."

"Wh-what?" she looked me dead in the eye, pinning back her ears in shock. "A-Anchor, he... i-it happened over a week before you came home!"

Everything around me froze. My tone grew deep and serious in disbelief. "What?"

Mom lifted her hoof, stroking a lock of my mane sideways. "They just told you?!"

"M-Mom, what are you talkin' about?" I swallowed heavily, my breath quickening. "R-Reveille pulled me to his office to deliver the news... h-he... he told me the call came that mornin'. Th-the next day, I arrived here, at home, and I jumped into your grasp."

After a couple moments of utter quiet, she started to sob, covering much of her face with one hoof while keeping her other on my shoulder. I recoiled some as tears gathered in my eyes, swiftly grabbing my mother in a tight embrace. This was not a development I wished to learn, but had to sooner or later.

They held me there, knowing damn well what happened back home. They lied to me; Reveille lied to me, and directly to my face. Anger boiled over the sorrow in me, at risk of spilling out in unnecessary places.

But perhaps there was a bit of a silver lining to it; maybe Reveille did just find out that morning, no one at that camp perceived him as a dirty liar that covered his tracks. Of course, that speaks for itself, but the real question is whether that was the truth or not. 

Three audible knocks emanated from the front door, startling the both of us equally, breaking our firm embrace and snapping my attention to glance over my shoulder.

We certainly were not expecting any more guests this week to my awareness, so the sole question raised between us in simple exchanged glances was who it could possibly be leading up until the moment I opened the door.

My blood ran cold. Speak of the devil, it was Reveille, standing at the mat of our front door in his dress whites, gazing neutrally forward at me.

"Lieutenant Commander Reveille..." I stiffened my posture some before him, and any tears in my eyes dried immediately, leaving a burning sensation and a faint redness in my ice blue cores. "What are you doin' here?" I sniffed, at that moment opting to disregard military manner in partial spite.

He spoke with the usual monotone, borderline calculating voice. "I came to personally give my condolences to your mother, Anchorage, and to you a second time. In these trying times, it is part of my duty as a superior to pay respects to the family of a fallen warrior."

I knew that was not the only reason he was here. While it may have been a trip out of respect for my father, it was a reason to collect me.

"Under the present circumstances, I understand it may be in your best interest to break from your Junior Officer division permanently and stay home. Though, I am obligated to present the offer to resume your duties as a Junior Sailor if you wish to," he added.

The word 'permanently' hit hard. Sure, I wanted to stay home like any other normal colt, but it ultimately meant I would never see any of my Camp Wallop friends again. Cordial, Saber, or Tidefire. At this time, however, my mother needed me home. She needed me—and I needed her.

Without wavering a detail of my attitude, I looked the lieutenant commander dead in the eye and put forward my decision. "Thank you, sir, for the opportunity to learn the basics of the Navy. For what it's worth, I respectfully decline the offer to return to Alderneigh." Then I paused to briefly think. "However, I do have one final request."

The narrowing of his eyes in apparent contained annoyance was a further omen of Reveille's true mission; his quota. Losing one of his recruits would look poor on his record, regardless of reasoning. "And what might that be?"

His slight change of demeanor discouraged me some. What word did I have that he would live up to my simple demand? The least I could do is try. "Address my mates Cordial, Tidefire, and Saber of my absence. My departure may have been abrupt, but I would prefer they are made aware as to why."

Reveille silently stared for a moment, nodding his head once in response. "I think I can make that happen." And with that, he spun nonchalantly and headed down the steps of our porch, where he halted himself halfway down. "I hope we once again cross paths in the service, Anchorage. Your loyalty to home and family could be useful in the fleet one day."

The comment did admittedly catch me by surprise. But at the same time, it felt less like a compliment and more on the lines of guilt. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two. "Thank you, sir," I replied with a nod. "Have a safe trip."

He simply nodded in response, and continued on his way. I watched him go for a couple of seconds as the sailor in me combated my right mind, fighting a battle that would ultimately stop me from changing my mind in that short period of time it took me to finally shut the door and return to my awestruck mother as she observed from the living room.

She raised her hoof to stroke a lock of my mane as I came up. "You know I would always respect your decision, honey. I would not be upset if you decided to go back. After all, it was your father's idea when he saw how much his job excited you, to give you a small idea of what he went through."

"I know, Mom," I nodded slowly, folding my ears back partially. "I had friends there. Not a lot, but at least I wasn't alone. But..." I let off a small, disappointed sigh. "I was homesick."

Mom nodded in understanding, offering a small, genuine smile. "Your first time away from home for prolonged periods is always frightening. When I moved out of my parents' house in Trotonto to take up job opportunities in Winneighpeg, the moment I stepped hoof off that train I felt as if I could just faint from all the fear."

The start of her story brought us to the couch, where we both took a seat. She poured herself a cup of lemon tea, raising it to her lips to blow softly before indulging on a polite sip of the piping hot beverage. As never before told by either parent, this was her side to the tale of how she met my father, and it would forever be the only understanding I will hear.


⚓


School in Gander Cove started off early this year, a whole two weeks ahead of the norm. Perhaps it was new regulation passed by the education department in charge of the two facilities in town.

Due to my withdrawal from classes at Camp Wallop, rules of Equestrian learning curriculum reset me back to the beginning of sophomore year, much to my discontent. The one plus to it was, after only a couple of months in Alderneigh, it did give me some preparation to start over.

However, I knew from the start of my day that readjusting back to normal schooling would be tough. From the moment I woke, my mind simply refused to boot. A dense fog not unlike the kind that occasionally blankets town obscured every firing sensor, and tasks to prepare myself for the first day of class took twice as long as they should have. I felt... numb.

Some lingering part of me heading into the school expected to at least spot Cordial, or walk past Saber as he strikes up a conversation with Tidefire even against JONR guidelines, but I knew better to acknowledge that they were not here. While I did have my own small group of friends here that I have known longer than my Camp Wallop shipmates, I felt almost no interest in them anymore. 

Most would consider that to be a form of depression. I'm not sure if I would call it that, whether or not it is what plagues my conscience. I suspect depression would feel much worse than how I do now, but what do I know? It's never been a problem for me, up until this point at least.

Another hard thing for me to keep in mind was the fact that after a long day in class, I would not be coming home to a friendly conversation with my father, either to vent or hear about his day. That would be something to grow used to over time.

My first steps through the south entrance of Gander Cove High started off normal, only to rapidly change no more than a second after. In that instant the main hallway fell so silent one could hear a pin drop onto carpet in the north wing. Almost every eye peeled towards me. It felt as if I had been accused of murder when I very clearly was not.

No one whispered rumors, even as I passed them slowly. I made it my goal to avoid too much eye contact the further in I strolled, though some fellow students I could not help but to glance at. A few carried on upon realizing the time before first period begins, granting me a chance to reach my locker without too many more staredowns along the way.

"Anchorage..." Cobalt deeply addressed from behind the very second my hoof set on the lock dial. I stopped what I was doing, sighing audibly, turning myself around slowly to face him.

I groused, glaring daggers up at the proportionally-larger colt. "What, you here to talk shit about me or my family again?"

I wholeheartedly expected a snarky response, but as if the genuine concern on his face wasn't abnormal enough, what really got me was what came out of his mouth afterward.

"I just... wanted to say, I'm sorry for your loss, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart for what I said about your father. As it turns out, he performed a lifesaving procedure on my mother when she had a heart attack while you were away."

Right when I thought he was finished, he continued. "And... I want you to know, no... we want you to know that everypony here at Gander Cove High has got your back."

Then he patted my shoulder. A chill ran up my spine as he did. He looked me dead in the eye, nodding once, and left it at that as he moved past me without purposefully bumping his shoulder into me, all while I just stood there in utter astonishment.

The whole encounter neglected to process in my head, let alone register the fact that I was not dreaming. Is the world ending? Why else would Cobalt, the school bully, actually feel the slightest wink of empathy for me?

Class had not even started yet, and I already felt the need to excuse myself to the restroom.