A Sailor's Notes

by Thunderblast


17. A Sailor's Dream

One day, I woke up, expecting the same routine as every day before it. Get cleaned up, get dressed, head out for class.

But something wasn’t right.

My first steps off the ship this particular morning were most definitely the strangest I can recall. No alarms had been raised. But it was clear as to why that was the case. Everypony stood around, staring up at the sky in their own kind of horrified shock.

I knew exactly what time it was. Every day for the last four months, I started off to class on the dot. So why is it still midnight?

Hurrying off the Northesk and the dock it was moored to, trying to get some kind of answer out of somepony, somewhere, I was ultimately met with building concern as just about everyone here had the exact same question on their mind.

My next instinct once it was clear no one would have the answers I sought out, was to get a hold of Mom. Whether or not she is awake at this time, it's best to check on her, just in case.

By now, many ponies were just getting their hooves on that new smartphone model that supposedly revolutionizes cellular devices. All I had was one of the newer flip phones with the number pads, a rather necessary impulse purchase shortly after my arrival in Manehattan to keep in close contact with Mom, and occasionally Misty when she isn't busy, too.

Despite a significantly more important and potentially detrimental event taking place, I moved someplace more secluded to make the call. The sun might be missing, but that won't stop some superior from getting on my ass about being on the phone.

First time around, it went straight to voicemail, indicating she was already on the line with somepony else. Perhaps trying to get a hold of me.

Second try, it rang... and rang... then static. In fact, the distortion was so loud I had to move the speaker away from my ear until it stopped. Even ten seconds later, it kept going, ultimately resulting in me having to hang up and try again.

For five more attempts, I was met with the busy tone of beeping, and eventually an automated message that cell towers were overloaded. Probably from all of the ponies trying to get a hold of family and friends, or emergency services which, in this case, were powerless to do anything.

I broke down into a fit of worry. No one around here knew anything, and free-use services on base were shut down as a precautionary measure. We were essentially cut off from the outside world, although no one really confirmed whether we were allowed to venture off base or not, but the basic assumption was the latter.

Finally, twenty minutes after my first attempt, my phone buzzed from the concealment of my blouse pocket. I didn't even stop to read the name on its tiny back screen before answering. I just knew who it was.

"Mom? Are you okay?" I asked through a somewhat heavy breath.

"I-I'm fine, Anchor... are—are you alright, sweetie? What's going on there?" She responded, notably worried to death in her tone.

I wish I knew the answer to that. Even if I did, and it wasn't yet public, I'd have to uphold its secrecy for both our sakes. "Yeah, I-I'm doin' as well as I can. No one's sayin' a word because we're all clueless right now."

"Oh my god, Anchorage, everypony's freaking out. All the neighbors are outside, there's sailors walking up and down the streets with rifles, telling them to go inside and..." she began to sob, her voice pitching higher because of it. "I-I'm scared. I wish you were home."

It broke my heart to hear her like this. Being hundreds of miles from her made it worse, as well. "I wish I was, too, Mom. Everything's gonna be okay, I promise you that."

Fact is, I wasn't sure if I could live up to that promise. I couldn't be confident that everything would turn out just fine.

Despite all helplessness in this situation, to sit here hundreds of miles from home and reassure my terrified mother over the phone felt somewhat empowering, like I had swapped roles with her.

It was then when I called back to my young colt days, before leaving Winneighpeg for Dad's new duty station, when summer storms rolled through and rendered me a shaking, whimpering mess.

It didn't take much for her to guess where I might be in the middle of the night when lightning crackled in the sky right above our house and shook it with frightening crashes of thunder. Depending on the severity of the storm, it never failed that I'd vanish completely beneath the covers of my bed, or hunker down under the frame itself like bombs were falling.

On those nights, sometimes one, two, even three in the morning, all it took was a singular boom or the heavy roar of torrential rain on our roof to get her out of bed and check on me.

Some instances I strictly refused to leave the safety of my "shelter" under the bed until the storm passes. But that didn't stop her from spending time she otherwise could have used to sleep, staying close by to keep me company and tell stories, or ask random questions to try and distract me.

Over time I think she came to enjoy moments like those. But as I grew up, of course, this quickly wound down. Eventually I outgrew my fear of storms, and it showed in brief seconds of disappointment she expressed when told I wasn't afraid. To her, it was a sign of the inevitable.

Now, the tables have turned. Difference is, this wasn't a storm. It was far bigger than that.

As the “day” progressed, word spread like the plague that on the opposite side of the globe, the sun remained high in the sky. Places such as the Griffish Isles, Prance, Ajerstan, and everywhere across the Antlertic were experiencing the same terrifying phenomenon, albeit the bright of mid afternoon.

But the worst news of all came to meet the figurative light of day at around ten that morning: Princess Celestia was missing.

There had also been rumors of other unexplained occurrences of the magical variety in and around the town of Ponyville, where this year’s Summer Sun Celebration was due to take place, and our beloved Goddess of the Sun was supposed to bring forth the first day of summer.

Of course, this brought on fears of a potential foreign attack involving her highness, and that she was being held hostage somewhere. So, naturally, every base in Equestria was put on high alert. All classes were cancelled, too, as everypony rushed to their stations in preparation while we all tried to figure out what to do.

Beyond the borders of this naval station, severe loss of order took hold as riots erupted in clusters city-wide. Manehattan Police struggled to control the main riot in downtown, and the smaller points of chaos scattered throughout the boroughs were essentially left unsupervised, leaving ponies to fend for themselves against looters and violent crimes.

Some divisions of sailors were even mobilizing to head out and help local authorities douse the metaphorical and literal flames that exploded across Bronclyn.

It wasn't just Manehattan, either. Other large cities across the country and beyond saw similar acts of disorder breaking out as ponies believed it to be the start of something much more sinister.

All I knew was, as tensions rose, my stomach curdled. Any food I gave multiple attempts at holding down found its way back up sooner or later. I couldn't focus on anything, not even my own mind.

Through eight weeks of gut-spilling, break-me-down-and-build-me-back-up training, and it took this to send me into a total breakdown. By now my screaming conscience could no longer hold it together following prolonged time spent telling myself the problem will resolve itself before I know it.

This soon transformed into me repeatedly smacking myself across the cheek, hoping this was just some bad nightmare.

It wasn't.

It was all real.

And yet I hadn't the slightest of inklings as to what I should do. The world as we knew it was coming apart at the seams, and no one knew for sure if something worse wasn't on its way.

But then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. The faintest of light began to brighten the sky. Gradually, the sun crested the east horizon, shimmering over the city of Manehattan and a fear struck nation.

It was the fastest sunrise I’d ever seen. With it came an intense breeze, and the motion feeling that the earth itself was pulling out from underneath us. Within minutes of this, the river levels dropped off significantly, offering some indication of what the hell just happened.

And so, thousands of puzzled sailors gazed skywards, at our neighboring celestial body that now sat in its rightful position of this time of the day, as if it had not been missing for the past four and a half hours.

The confusion was short lived, however. It wasn't more than a few seconds later when the first cries of joy broke out, and quickly grew into a deafening roar of glee as everypony celebrated the return of day, better late than never.

I so wanted to pass out from the relief as it washed over. In fact, I nearly did. It began as a sense of lightheadedness, perhaps some strange side effect of powerful magic fixing our planet's steady rotation on its axis to restore the balance of the day and night cycle.

Because of the event, morning colors were missed entirely; most definitely a one-off incident that is sure to spark controversy sooner or later. However, the routine was that the national ensign is to be hoisted shortly after the anticipated start of sunrise. When that didn't happen, all focus turned elsewhere, and it was abandoned entirely.

Stood beneath the tallest flagpole on base were hundreds, perhaps thousands of sailors, gazes fixated on the flagless pole.

"Attention!" sounded a firm voice, booming through speakers on light poles surrounding the base centerpoint.

The loudest, most collective shuffling of hooves I have ever heard rang out across the courtyard as every pony present shifted their stances.

Shortly afterwards, the national anthem of Equestria played on a singular bugle from a nearby watch post.

I watched from some hundred feet back as the purple flag with the two sisters raised gradually above the heads of the sailors in front of me. Including myself, those donning their covers threw up firm salutes, making up for the grand majority of all ponies observing late morning colors.

A breeze grazed over my soul with much needed consolation, knowing the world wasn't ending after all, and that everything would soon return to normal.

Or so I thought.

Today marked the start of a new era of Equestria's armed forces. As of this morning, I was no longer a proud member of the Equestrian Navy. In fact, that was the branch's former name.

Some two and a half months after Princess Luna's return from her millennia-long banishment, which caused that strange period of delayed daylight on the first day of summer, many notable changes came to the entire country—but the main focus of it all was the military.

Through unanimous vote amongst the Canterlot Royalty and the Council, it was determined that she would hereby oversee the operations of both the Navy and the Marine Core alike, with Princess Celestia retaining respective control over the Army and Air Force.

Despite commanding their own branches, both held equal power over the entire military as a whole. To somepony with little to no knowledge on how the defense sector functions, and even a scattered few currently serving, the transition makes little sense, if any period.

On the contrary, many saw it as a chance to reform our country's forces and make them stronger, to better ready every mare and stallion when the next conflict rolls around.

Princess Luna also addressed this change as a 'do-over', to make up for her troubled past, which still to this day remained one of the largest mysteries, even with all knowledge on that era.

In the days leading up to her banishment, she revolted against her elder sister as a terrible evil begun to eat away at her soul. This led to a total breakdown of the kingdom's government, and a growing divide between sides showing loyalty to their princesses.

Fueled by her followers' undying support, the younger of the siblings founded the Lunar Republic; an organized militaristic government seeking to take the throne and bring on eternal night to the land.

War ensued as the Lunar Republic and the Protective Pony Platoons of Equestria clashed in the greatest conflict known to ponykind. It was in the final hours of this battle that determined the fate of the world, when Celestia fought face to face with a wicked being once her dearest sister and closest friend turned foe; Nightmare Moon.

Immediately after her banishment to the moon, the Lunar Republic crumbled, devastated by the loss of their leader. Some resistances continued for a few months after that, but peace soon fell upon Equestria until the next, somewhat related conflict two centuries later.

In its place today, now intended as a symbol of peace with a mission to protect and serve Equestria, the New Lunar Republic brings with it my beloved branch's new title—the Lunar Navy.

It wasn't just that, though. Soon, many ships bore new names; particularly ones members of the now Lunar Fleet, a Carrier Strike Group commanded by its flagship, the L.R.S. Eclipse.

The most notable element of this change was that most ships stationed here now attained moon-themed names, such as Gibbous, Aphelion, Lacus, and so forth. They even received new paint jobs from hull to mast, of course to match a new standard put in place by the N.L.R.

However, one disappointing factor came the day it was settled that Naval Station Manehattan would soon be changing its sign preceding the entrance gate, all due to a swift rearranging of commands resulting in the need for a Marine presence in the northeast.

Of the potential cities to set roots down in, ours was the most suitable candidate due to already housing the largest naval installation on the East Coast.

I accepted the fact that very soon I and my fellow sailors would share this base with another branch. What I wasn't willingly prepared for was all the change of rules that followed.

It was within days that Marines became a more frequent sight around base as they and all of their equipment moved in to their new home.

Apart from an increased presence, the biggest discernible change with the Marines was their uniforms. From the few I've seen around before this wild change, I recall a sort of dark green digital pattern with some browns and blacks in the mix.

Now, in order to fit the new 'standard' for colors of the New Lunar Republic, Marines were issued what was referred to as the Lunar Working and Combat Pattern, or LWCP for short.

The pattern retained its digital design, but included many similarities to the Army's unused Urban Camouflage Pattern as far as color palette went.

The LWCP's dominant color was black, with blocky splotches of alternating light and dark grey shades.

In respects to the Department of the Navy's cover regulations, as well, the LWCP adapted the eight-point cover.

Thankfully, us sailors were not in store for a fresh appearance, due to the blues of our current uniform already being within the New Lunar Republic's 'dark color' standards.

Based on some first impressions, Marines' reception to their new look was mixed all around. Some dug the shadowy camouflage, others preferred the MARPAT (Marine Pattern) they previously wore. However, it appeared some middle ground would be achieved, as an updated variant of their desert pattern would be rolled out to be utilized in such environments.

What I was most grateful about was that our uniforms differentiated just enough to where the average civilian might not confuse us for the other. At one point in time, there were several bills passed along that would force every branch of the military to wear one uniform with their respective patches; each of which falling through without nearly enough support.

All in all, things were starting to get interesting. Between ponies of the Navy and Marines not exactly getting along at first, I can only wonder how this will continue to play out.

Even when the fallout settled, there was still very much a divide on base. Of course, not much can be done about it if you are literally forced to work alongside a Marine, but in any other case, both sides purposefully tried to ignore each others' presence.

I'd acknowledged it was there, but not until one afternoon after the day's classes had concluded when I witnessed it first-hoof.

A small group of Marines stood around a closed carriage among many parked around it, offloading items ranging from crates of ammunition, gear to replenish the exchange store, and even guns fresh off the assembly line.

Because of designated parking, each Marine hauling stuff had quite a ways to walk. The last of the bunch emerged slowly from the carriage, easing himself down the lowered ramp to ground level, and immediately stumbled on the gravel below.

He was a moss green earth pony, standing roughly my height or a couple inches taller, with a fit build within Marine Core regulations. Considering how drastic a change my body went through in boot camp, the Navy’s fitness tests paled in comparison to the Marines; granted, they also fit an on-the-ground combat role more than sailors, barring a few corpsponies here and there that were attached to Marine units on some missions.

Yet, even with his muscle that discernibly had me beat, he still struggled under the weight of that hefty .50 caliber straddled over his back. Considering the distance he had to cover, he was likely to drop it at one point or another and risk damaging the gun. All of this while numerous sailors strolling past simply threw looks of disgust his direction and carried on, even as he silently begged for help.

Some part of me warned going out of my way to help would result in administrative action. But would it? One of the biggest things in boot camp was learning to work together, no matter how much we might dislike the other. That's just how it worked, and how it should work.

Without hesitating, I strode over to the Marine, noting of the buildup of sweat on his forehead the closer I came.

"Hey there, need a back?" I extended.

He stopped in his tracks, lifting his gaze to meet mine, seemingly caught off guard by my offer. Without saying a word, he nodded, and I slid up to his side, shifting the gun to balance equal weight across our backs.

It was as heavy as it looked, that's for sure. But now any worry of damage caused by accidental drop had erased itself as we cautiously hauled it along the path, allowing the Marine to take a step's lead to show the way.

"Nnngh... hnngh..." he grunted some, glancing back to catch my nametag. "Th-thank you, Anchorage."

"Anytime," I responded through a breath as we advanced with care.

"N-name's Ashfall, by the way," he added. "You're the second sailor to say a word to me, let alone help."

"Well, if we're gonna share a base, might as well work as a team, aye?" I smiled.

"Right," he chuckled briefly after that.

After a good five minute walk, we dropped the .50 cal off at the supply center for the logistics specialists to check in and store away in the armory. Basically they handled all of the paperwork while the grunts moved stuff for them, a perfect system if you will.

I remained with the Marine until we were almost back to the carriage. Along the way, he made an attempt at conversation.

"Say, you know any good places to eat around here? Thinking about getting some grub after my work is done, and chow hall food doesn't sound all that appealing to me."

I glanced over to him briefly. "I couldn't tell ya, quite honestly. Haven't been off base all too much, don't have much reason to. But, there is a good lil' Manehattan-style pizza joint a couple blocks that way out the gate," I replied, pointing right in the direction of central Bronclyn.

"Hey, I'll check that out. Thanks," he nodded with a small smile. "Would you maybe want to tag along later? I uh... I'm not exactly a fan of crowds."

"What, the big bad Marine they beat you into the dirt to be is afraid of the busy city life?" I remarked teasingly. Something about him silently flashed country colt, but not sure which kind. He lacked the accent, so likely not a farmer. "That sounds good. Mind if I bring a friend along, too?"

"As long as he won't spit on me for being new," Ash said with another chuckle, albeit one that reflected the pain of having to adjust into this new, cold environment.

"If he does, I'll chew his ass out for it," was my stern response, one that seemingly struck a little fear in the slightly larger stallion's soul.

As Dad once said, Friend today, Foe tomorrow. It runs both ways. This I had to live by, although it appeared my job at establishing some dominance here was done. Not that it was entirely necessary, the colt looked beat enough by fellow sailors.

"Anyways, what time works for you? I've got work of my own to catch up on, but I should be free after four."

It was the middle of August, no more than a week after my final class of 'A' School wrapped up, and myself along with Gallant and the others in our class received the insignia for ET in the form of small patches below the ranks on our dress whites, officially declaring us Electronics Technicians of the Lunar Navy.

Almost immediately, we'd received our orders. It made Gallant and I nervous in the anticipation of being separated; however, soon come to find out, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Word reached me shortly before he did, in the form of my chief informing me that I am to stay put in Manehattan, and will be assigned to an ET division aboard the L.R.S. Eclipse, a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier and the guiding light of the Lunar Fleet.

No, really, that is the ship's motto: The Lunar Fleet's Guiding Light.

After that, Gallant excitedly broke the news that he too would be joining the Eclipse's crew in my same division. Were we old enough, we'd have celebrated at one of the watering holes off-base. So, we had to improvise.

And by improvise, I mean bribe a Third Class who is of age to go out and buy booze for us to drink until we pass out.

In all reality, neither of us passed out until almost two hours after all the puking stopped, and even then the intense stomach aches persisted. So much for a celebration.

Then the hangover next morning, hoo boy. Thank Celestia it was our off-day to recover on.

But it wasn't long after this that we also learned, as well as the other two-thousand, five-hundred sailors stationed on the Eclipse that we would soon be deploying out east for a few weeks.

All of this occurred within maybe eleven days of graduating 'A' School, the painfully slow passing of time in eager anticipation to be finally going out to sea, and eventually, the big day.

Unfortunately it was also one of those instances that I had nopony to say goodbye to. Those close to me at work were along for the ride, but what family and friends I had back home simply could not arrange the necessities to come and bid farewell.

While it would have been nice to say goodbye to Mom, or even Misty, it wasn't the worst feeling in the world. After all, in about a week we would make port in Marelaysia, followed by Saddle Arabia, then back home. With how long Dad was away back when he deployed, this paled in comparison.

The process of getting friends and family on base to give their sailors one last hug took about two hours tops. After that, boarding began, and was completed in an additional thirty minutes.

But beyond that? Everything seemed to take an eternity. Two-thousand, five-hundred ponies trying to find their way to their racks, plus very narrow passageways that barely fit two side-by-side at a time, were a horrible combination. In fact, most of the journey to my designated berthing was spent standing around, gaining one or two steps every couple of minutes, packed tightly in a hot, stuffy P-way just trying to drop my damn seabag off.

Once that was done, however, everything after that breezed on by, because of course it would.

It wasn't until around 1100 when a pair of Navy-owned tugboats tied themselves to the ship's starboard side and began slowly drifting it out of its dock into the middle of the massive river resting between Manehattan Island and mainland Equestria.

Still, it never ceased to amaze me how such little vessels could move a ship of this magnitude under their own power. Consider it the power of pony ingenuity.

Traditionally, when leaving port, sailors line up along the edges of their ship's deck, standing at parade rest for the duration of departure to render honors. The same goes for coming home, too, but that was well off in the future. This was called manning the rail, and this dated back to the early centuries of sailing. It is also a gesture used to prove no hostile intent when arriving in foreign ports.

The wind of the approaching sea grazed through my feathers, and up the back of my mane. Yet, the cap atop my crown remained perfectly still, as if it magnetized to my head. Perhaps this is something ponies unknowingly master when they become sailors, where anything they wear is unaffected by the breeze of the mighty sea.

As silly as it sounds, it could be true.

"Good afternoon, Eclipse, and welcome aboard. As I'm sure every sailor on this ship is aware, this is our first tour under a new name, so I want it to leave a lasting impression on everypony. It's cleaning day, and there's nothing better than a spotless ship. So scrub the floors, scrub the bulkheads. Do it 'til you see your reflection. You know the drill."

So, as it turns out, some of the negatives to ship live happen the same day you leave port.

And so, every sailor apart from crucial personnel took part in a ship-wide exercise to clean every inch of the thing. Hell, even the topside crew were power washing the flight deck!

In my case, I was given a yellow sponge and a bucket filled with soapy water, and a thick roll of paper towels, and was tasked with scrubbing the metal frames of doors. This included ones that led into compartments in the sector I was assigned to, and those in passageways designed to partition off the ship in sections to mitigate the effects of taking on water.

I couldn't complain about it too much, though. After all, a clean ship helps prevent illness. And sure, I was far from the biggest clean-freak out there, but having cleanliness and organization in a living space was a big plus.

Because today would be utilized primarily to clean the ship from top to bottom, there were little orders to be given outside of the current objective. First thing tomorrow morning, however, my group would gather at Quarters to meet with our Division Chief and Division Officer for the day's tasks; something to expect every single morning throughout this three-and-a-half week journey.

From the moment my orders to the Eclipse came, to even now, my heart pumped nonstop with excitement.

I'm finally on a ship.

On the floor.

Scrubbing a doorway with a wet sponge.

But on a ship nonetheless.

As I got down to get to work on another frame, my ear swiveled to the clicking of hooves moving down the P-way behind me.

Because of how narrow these walkways were, no matter your size, ponies have to use extra care slipping past so as to not step on your tail or something, even if you compact yourself as much as physically possible against the bulkhead or in a corner, depending on where you are.

Which is exactly what I'd done most of the morning into the afternoon to allow fellow sailors through.

Even after moving aside for the approaching hoofsteps, allotting plenty of space to continue, they still stopped short of me.

And they just stood there in silence, until they cleared their throat.

I briefly flicked a glance over my shoulder to acknowledge them, too quick to read their rank and address them properly if necessary and a large mistake, first of all.

"You ain't buggin' me, you can go through," I said while scrubbing deeply along the left corner of this particular door frame.

"Seapony Anchorage." They said firmly, in the most-Chief tone as one could imagine.

Of course, that is exactly who they were. I stopped immediately what I was doing and turned to face them while standing up, sponge still in hoof and dripping into the bucket beside me. Now my heart had a reason to be pounding as hard as it was.

"Chief," I responded neutrally upon noticing his collar devices, stiffening my stance to be more attentive but not exactly at attention. He wasn't my chief, so to speak, but he belonged to the same occupation as I, and the discipline in the presence of such rank was all the same.

To my relief, he paid no mind to my slip-up moments ago. "If I may draw you from your duties for a moment, I have a proposal."

I blinked twice at that, but then nodded once. "Yes, Chief?"

"As you might not be previously aware, the 3M tech in another division recently reached the end of his contract and decided not to re-up. Because of that, we are one pony short."

"What's 3M?" I queried. I'd heard the term thrown around a couple of times in 'A' School, but never have I come to learn its meaning.

"Advanced classes for your rating. Maintenance at the level of circuit components like resistors and capacitors. You showed some exceptional work and effort in ATT and 'A' School, so we could use somepony with heart like you to fill his horseshoes."

I further delved into deeper questions of the occupation, which he answered to the best of his ability. It was one of those offers that few sailors receive due to sudden change of demand, this case being in need of a replacement.

Of course, after learning all there is to know about it, I graciously accepted the offer, and would be set to continue the schooling necessary to meet their requirements as soon as we make port back in Manehattan in a few weeks.

In the meantime, I would resume my usual duties as expected for ETs, and was told at some point that the paperwork to get the ball rolling will come my way in the form of me dropping by my division chief's quarters to gloss over and fill out where needed.

After perhaps ten minutes of discussing 3M, the Chief dismissed me back to cleaning, and carried on the direction he was headed.

It met me with honor to know I was the first considered for such a position. And sure, it might give me something to brag about one of these days; maybe once I make E-7 and have my own sailors to pester with such information. That's years off from now, but my next big goal all the same.

Once my part of the cleaning was finished, and after the approval of many to have passed through on their way elsewhere on the ship, I was relieved to a break by my division officer, and finally giving myself the chance to do what I've dreamed of for years.

A length of narrow catwalks extended around the entire edge of the ship, situated mostly below the level of the flight deck and lined with safety railing to prevent ponies from falling overboard.

Here, some of the shouting from the flight deck could be picked up, but for the most part was drowned out by other dominating sounds.

I looked down through the grated metal floor under my hooves, at the water's surface as the carrier's angled bow sliced through it effortlessly like butter.

My ears perked to the mighty roar of sea being displaced as the unconstrained cool saltwater wind whipped against my body.

The sun beat down on the open ocean, creating a bright, glimmering streak on the rippled surface that stretched to the horizon's edge. What few clouds that dotted the late afternoon sky were insignificant and thus posed no threat of consolidating and forming into a freak thunderstorm.

I closed my eyes to take it all in, cherishing every second of it.

Time and time again, I've been told...

You'll never be who you want to be.

You will never be a sailor.

You are not worth their time.

A pegasus doesn't belong on a boat.

Yet here I am, stood along the southward-facing port catwalk, overlooking the blue horizon that carried on forever every which way one looks, smiling at the contemplation of what the future beholds.

I proved them wrong. I do belong out here.

My name is Anchorage, and I am an Equestrian Sailor.