//------------------------------//
// Adrift 
// Story: Siren Song 
// by TheDarkStarCzar 
//------------------------------//

	When the battered griffon airship was cut loose from the taut lines that attached it to the Morningstar it heeled over and bolted seaward, looking for all the world like a skittish pufferfish finally cut loose from a trap line. It was in far better shape than our current crowded vessel, but there was little that could be done to save it with it's loss of buoyancy. Our repairs had been too little, too late, so with Captain Grizelda's grudging consent it was abandoned, set adrift to founder itself in the vast uncaring sea.


It fell softly through the cloud cover and was lost to sight, "I never even knew it's name." I said wistfully.


"The escorts, we name after sea birds," Captain Gale, if she was truly such without her ship beneath her, said, "My own ship was the Cormorant, and a better ship you'll never come across." She gestured to where Grizelda's ship had disappeared, "Her's was a fine enough craft, but built in the yards of the Fowlmouth Docks Company when they were mass producing ships for the naval modernization effort, back when it looked like the Germanes were going to start up a world war. We've Celestia to thank for pacifying that little flare up.  What I'm getting at was that my Cormorant was crafted, an artwork, where her Albatross was a standard design, mass produced in the hundreds. It's pointless to mourn the loss of something that was meant to be disposable when it was new, some sixty years back. They built those crates for no other purpose but to choke their harbors with our dead. If it had a soul it would have been some benign, servile thing, pleased and relieved to give it's life in service to it's crew."


That's right, the bucking Albatross, and though I hadn't shot the guns or cut the ropes that sent her to her death, it was my actions that lead directly to it's dire end. Luna take me now. If I wasn't cursed before I'd certainly have to be after this.

Gale's words were meant to assuage my melancholic bent, and though the words themselves did not, the sentiment helped and I came to realize something, the griffons liked me, every bird-jack of them. I wasn't sure what to make of it.




It was a fact that Grizelda had taken what happened on her shoulders, absolving me of any blame. "It's my ship, the bit and the blame stop with me. We were all of us played by a saboteur, it seems. One who couldn't help but to still be amongst us. Atonement is for that scurrying miscreant alone. If you're set on feeling guilty over it, repay it by keeping out a vigilant eye." She'd told me kindly and the erstwhile crew of the two lost ships treated me jovially and as if I were an old friend, speaking freely about all that had happened and speculating on what could be done about it.


The ponies looked at me distrustfully, but at least that seemed sensible. They may have even thought I was the saboteur and under my mother's thrall, I'm uncertain. They gave me a wide berth and steered well clear of any topics that might lead back to discussing how we got into our current situation. Their reticence was an implicit accusation, which is the worst kind. Anything outright I could at least defend myself against, speak out and stand up for myself, but there's no way to defend yourself if nopony will speak against you overtly. Getting angry over a stinkeye just makes you look crazy as well as guilty.

Even so, it was far from certain where the danger came from. To that end it was decided that we should all be made to pair up pony to griffon and never let our partners leave our sight. Our partners were chosen by lots but by the time I drew we'd run out of griffons, their number being about half of our own. I drew Pinkie Pie, which garnered sympathetic snickers, but I liked Pinkie Pie pretty well, really. She was a bit unfocused, but the task to which we were assigned were nothing but busywork anyway.

If you're required to swab the deck for hours a day it's just as well to have a pony who can make a song and dance of it along with you.
Not that I dance.
Or sing.

Not if there's any chance of anypony so much as suspecting that it's what I was doing, much less seeing or hearing me.
When I am assured of my privacy, however, I have a sweet enough voice. My moves, however, are tragic. What the earth ponies always say about unicorns not being able to dance is a stereotype for a reason.

I came to notice that the majority of the crew were set to repairing the ship, timber and shavings littering the deck. Even the unskilled were being put to use caulking and painting the newly refurbished sections of the hull. I was torn between anger that my own skills were not being utilized and being grateful that I wasn't being forced into the more arduous labor around ponies who'd come to distrust me. As is my wont, I chose the path that would lead to me bleatingly making a mule of myself before the greatest number of ponies.

I moved to rise from my stoop over the scrub brush, intent on an impassioned speech and a plea for respect when Pinkie Pie broke off from her treatise on the inner workings of a cotton candy maker, (Which, if true, turn my whole notion of the structure of spun sugar and physics on it's head. Who knew that cotton candy was originally invented as an analog to demonstrate string theory?)  reached out a hoof, brought me back down and shushed me.


"Don't go getting the wrong idea and going off half cocked, Sea Swirl," The pink pony told me, hoof still keeping me bent to my work, "They're keeping me out of the way with all this deck swabbing, not you."

I wanted to know how she knew what I was thinking, but she answered before I could ask, "Silly, I can read you like a book, and not a chapter book either. One of those with pictures and just enough words on the page to read along with to a foal. Like, um...Good Night Luna? That's Pound's favorite. Pumpkin likes Everypony Poops, but I think mostly because I can't help but giggle the whole time I'm reading it. Anywho, I was saying that I can read you like that. What kind of best friend would I be if I couldn't?"


"Er..."


"Silly! It's a equatorial question!"


"You mean rhetorical." I stated.


"Potato, pah-tah-toe." She replied and I wanted to protest that equatorial was not remotely another pronunciation of rhetorical, but it was so stupid an it caught me off guard and I accidentally started to grin against my will.


"So why wouldn't they want you helping in a somewhat more useful way?" I cocked my head and arched an eyebrow, "You seem to be more talented than you let on and you'd certainly be put to better use than scrubbing up the deck."


"I guess, maybe, but then it depends on how you look at it." She swept a hoof to indicate the myriad of activity going on around us, "They're fixing up the ship, they even slowed down so we'd have it looking ship shape for when we get to Eagleland. Heh, it's a ship shape ship we shall sail. But what's it matter what a ship that's going to sneak in at night and get hidden away where no one can see it loots like? It still flew fine and I thought it was more interesting with a few holes blown in it, all post apoplectic-ey. Plus, most of the crew's not going to have anything to do while we're searching, so wouldn't it be better to save the work 'til then so they'd have some task to keep them happy?"
"The way it is they're just going to be waiting anxiously on the ship, playing cards or checkers or something. I wish I had something for them, but they dumped my chest of party supplies to save weight and all I've got is my emergency backup pin the tail on the pony set and a jump rope. I'm trying to arrange for something better, though."
"Anywhat, all this work isn't about patching up the ship, it's about about patching up their spirits so they can cross the border with their heads held high, even though they don't know it. But you know it, and I know it, and once you know then you see that it's ALL busy work so it doesn't matter what you're actually doing, just so long as we're all working together. Plus, the deck DOES need scrubbed, which is your part, and waxed and polished, which is mine."


"Is that what you're doing? I wondered how you were getting it so nice and shiny." I considered it for a bit, "Isn't it going to be a bit slick, though? Is that really a good idea?"


"Well it has to be slick. I've got some cans of water chestnuts from the back of the pantry and some ramrods to use as sticks, but none of that matters if we can't get the deck slick enough to slide across." Pinkie chirped, hopped up and demonstrated sliding back and forth on the freshly waxed deck.


"Why's that now?" I thought I missed something somewhere.


"Because we don't want to take the hard work away from anyone. Cooperating and accomplishing something makes them happy, so we're stuck doing the important work and making a hockey rink for when they're bored later." Pinkie smiled and I finally understood, "Since repairing the ship doesn't actually matter it's easily the most useful thing we could be doing right now."


"That's like, subversive happiness right there. You're good." I admitted.


"I know, right? Sometimes my friends just can't see what really matters and I have to be all sneaky." Pinkie beamed.


"But you didn't say why they were trying to keep you from the other work." I said and instantly regretted it as Pinkie scowled. Fortunately it passed as quickly as it had come.


"I may have read the plans backwards and put the bowsprit on the stern and been in the process of taking the rudder up front. Then it's possible that they asked me if I wouldn't do better with a job where I didn't have to read blueprints and here I am." Pinkie giggled.


I didn't think she was really that scatterbrained, I called her on it, "It was a schtick, wasn't it?"


She grinned wide and scrunched her eyes, "Silly! A Pinkie never tells and a gentlemare never asks! You're just lucky you got paired up with me!"


"Yeah," I sighed, "That way you can keep an eye on me and make sure I'm not the saboteur."


She shook her head and said kindly, if a bit sadly, "I already know you're not the saboteur."


I nodded in gratitude, it was good to know somepony had faith in me. Pinkie's chatter was the white noise that kept my mind sedated. It wasn't until after dinner, when I'd had a moment to think that I scrutinized her words. I invited her to come out on the deck with me, ostensibly to check on the hockey rink, "It's pretty slick, but I'm not sure it'll really work."


"It'll work, the players will just have to wear socks. Luckily I had some stashed in case of sock emergency, so we should be good." Pinkie Pie said with a grin.


"It's...it's not really what I brought you up here for, I just wanted a little privacy to ask you..."


"Oh, Sea Swirl!" She enthusiastically interrupted, "I didn't know you felt that way about me! I'm flattered, of course, but I'll have to think about it. Just the other day I found out Dashie's had a crush on me this whole time and I don't want to hurt her feelings..."


"What? No, that's not what I..." I cocked my head, "But you knew that wasn't what I meant, didn't you? You always do seem to know just a little more than you let on, like when you said you knew I wasn't the saboteur, you didn't mean it like you had faith and trusted me, did you? I think you actually did know, so tell me, how did you know?"


"I can't say." She said without thinking and it could have been a fluke, but she guiltily covered her mouth.


"Buck." I looked around, there were ponies and griffons around, but none of them close enough to overhear and none were looking our direction, "So it was you and you've known what was going on this whole time."


Pinkie Pie looked guiltily conflicted and stammered, unable to form a rebuttal. I was torn between covering up her secret and exposing her immediately.


"I still don't get it, what was the point of picking a fight with the griffons when we were onboard their ship?" I asked and surprisingly she answered.


"Well, the charges were fused to go off in the middle of the night, we just didn't get back in time, I didn't know how strong that liquor was. We aren't supposed to be too chummy with the griffons, having them around brings their government and their army into things that I don't know and can't say if I did. We needed to have them angry at us and we should have distrusted them too, but since I bucked it all up with us being on their ship, I thought I could force the Griffons to surrender by dumping their helium, then everybody would be mad and they wouldn't work together. It didn't come out that way, exactly and now I don't know what to do so I made a hockey rink because above all I'm supposed to act like everything's normal and nothing's wrong and...I can't say...and...shoot...I can't say that either. It's getting to be pretty hard, though, but I don't think anypony can tell, so it's probably okay." Pinkie Pie revealed in one rushed statement, as if she wanted to get it all out before the spell realized what she was doing. She looked as shocked as me that she'd been able to reveal as much as she had.


"Okay, I'll get Twilight and we'll tell her, she'll be able to do something." I said quietly, not daring to raise my voice and effect the metaphorical and literal spell that Pinkie was under.


"Nuh-uh." Pinkie Pie shook her head, "What'll you tell her? Unless you've thought of anything tricky? No? Well we're still in the same boat, besides it might not just be...oh, I can't say."


I knew what she was implying, though. It could just as well be me, too, who was a sleeper agent and I might not even know it. At least that's what I thought she meant at the time, "Okay. Point taken. Can you tell me anything else?"


"I can't say. But let me think about it." She replied and fell silent.


We stood on that moonlight drenched deck, riding high above a deck of thunderheads strobing with lightning. I leaned on the rail in circuitous contemplation of our plight and it's implications. When I looked back I'd found that Pinkie had lain down and fallen asleep on the deck, a grin on her face even in sleep and in spite of what she was being forced to do.

I thought I must have fallen asleep too, because when I looked back to check on Pinkie she was silently standing directly beside me, half a yard away.
In a lightning flash I saw her clearly and I started.
It was Pinkie, but it also wasn't. Her mane lay flat, her coat had lost it's glow, looking lifeless and gray, her left eye twitched and her lips were visibly fighting a constant battle to keep from curling into a snarl. I stepped back in fright, pressed up against the rail with wide eyes.


Heavy thunder crashed below us and she spoke in an unearthly whisper, "I thought of something else I could tell you. Something important, but you're not going to like it."


"Tell me." I whispered back breathlessly, I still wasn't sure I was awake, everything seemed a bit off, but maybe it was the pink presence in my face that skewed my perspective.


"You were a last minute substitution, a cataclysm used for a catalyst. This game isn't one you were supposed to play in past the first round. Come daylight we should be over Eagleland and that accident will cost you...but maybe, maybe there's nothing stopping me and I can shoulder it on my own and take you out of play and if you make it and stay hidden maybe you can stay free of it, even though you can't help. Seriously, don't try to help, you can't. I'm not even sure you can run, but at least you have a shot...if you make it." Pinkie said, her eyes darting and wild, one second boring into me, the next scanning the deck. I didn't understand what point she was trying to make, her speech and demeanor all seemed so surreal.


"Pinkie, you're scaring me..." I said, then she bowed her head for a moment. Her eyes flashed blue steel, she charged the scant distance between us and flung me flank over teakettle over the rail.







I screamed a shrill and hopeless scream. I was flailing as I burst through the cloud layer and was instantly drenched as I fell into it. In the darkness the demarcation between the cloud and sky was pretty hard to pinpoint, but the lightning flashes revealed that I'd fallen through the thunderheads and was plowing a comet's path through the falling rain drops. I flipped towards the ocean, though I couldn't see it in the darkness and the rain.

I ran through my limited options. If you fall and are going to hit the ground your best option is to relax and hit back first. Really it's your only option. I don't think that will work if you have to swim immediately after impact so that's right out.
I could streamline my body to cut through the water, but that had barely worked at thirty yards so it wasn't a good option either. If only I could soften my landing.

That's when I had a panic induced brainstorm. Mom hadn't been lying about my being able to do my eponymous whirlpool spell and that gave some credibility to her assertions of my being a shipwrecker. I can't even remember learning it, I just always knew it. What's it good for? I can make whirlpools that fling the water away and leave the ocean floor bare, though I've only tried it in fairly shallow depths, it's allowed me to walk on the ocean floor. Disregarding any offensive uses, which I don't remember, I've never really gone any farther with that spell and explored it's limits. Now would be a good time, though.

I sent my magic downward, straining to locate the ocean and form a vortex, to create a whirlpool that started out no bigger than I am and gradually tapered away over the greatest depth possible, a tube of water reaching into the depths. That way I would contact the sides of the funnel instead of a flat, hard surface and scrub off speed.

If it worked, and it felt like it was working, even though I couldn't see it, I'd still be at too great a depth to survive the pressure, but I figured I could solve that problem if the whole falling from the sky thing sorted itself out.

By the time I felt confident it was working my magic was on the wane but I remembered my recent lesson and switched to pulsing the energy.
It was the wrong move, it doesn't work on that spell. The vortex failed and collapsed in on itself and there wasn't enough time to create another. I tried anyway, my horn blazing with a desperate purple aura as I grit my teeth and concentrated.

No chance, my horn sputtered and popped.
Buck.

My lightshow, however, had been a beacon for somebody and I was roughly lifted by my hind limbs, a lazy arc killing my downward momentum. Looking back a pair of eagle talons had a firm grip on hocks, claws digging in ever so slightly.

I couldn't tell who it was, griffons kind of look alike to me and doubly so in the dark and rain. All I knew is that she had her eyes clenched tightly against the rain and was straining to keep me aloft in the downpour. She couldn't do it for long and shortly my forelimbs skimmed the water and I was unceremoniously dropped in after them with a plop.


"Can you swim?" She asked and I recognized the voice as Georgia's. She hovered just above me as I bobbed in the waves, treading water.


"Yeah," I understated it a bit, "I can swim. Thanks for saving me."


"Don't thank me yet, I can't get you clear back to the ship myself, I'm going to try and get back up there and recruit some more lifting power." She looked to the storm darkened sky, "They may be on their way already. If they get here before I get back tell them to light a signal and wait. I don't want to be searching all night for somepony that's already been rescued, right?" She hovered anxiously, itching to get back above the clouds.


"Right. Go on then, I'll be fine, and thanks again." She nodded to me and shot away and out of view. Then I was alone in the cold dark sea with rain pouring down on me.


It could be worse, though, I'd survived the fall. Maybe it was being so close to death so many times lately, or the fact that I'd been half asleep but the whole falling to certain doom thing hadn't had the sort of effect on me one might expect. Aside from that, the waves were pretty moderate and the seas weren't frigid by any means and, most importantly, help was on the way.





When I was a filly I tread water all day one time, must have been sixteen hours, just because I wanted to see if I could. I only quit because I was hungry and sleepy. Later, when I applied as a lifeguard at a local beach, one of the questions was 'how long can you tread water?' I didn't get that job and I attribute it to the fact that my answer, 'until I get hungry,' was probably viewed as a weird bit of smart assery. Even so, when hours ground by and no one came for me I started to consider whether I ought to start some less energy intensive techniques. The dead mare's float and such.

The storm died, the sun's Easterly glow finally painted the horizon and gave me direction. Even though it went against everything I'd been taught, or the 'stay in one place so that you'll be easier to find' part of it, I struck off towards the sunrise. I'm not sure how far it was to Eagleland but I had a pretty good idea it was farther than I could swim. Still, the alternatives were few. Either wait for rescue, swim for it or give up. A big, dark part of myself was goading me to do the latter, but these hopeless situations are where I really excel. It's part of being a fatalist, I think, that I find stuff like this morbidly funny and it does a considerable amount towards stoking my survival instinct. A mad glee sort of takes over and spurs me on.

That glee was considerably shaken an hour to the East when I first spotted a lone griffon circling, then momentarily settling on the water before taking off again. She did it many times. I know because it took at least half an hour to finally get within shouting distance of the poor bedraggled creature. I couldn't figure out what she was doing, circling and touching down over and over again.


"Georgia? Is that you?" I called out. Her head flicked up towards me, "What have you got there?"


"It'sa...s'a board. I's tryin' to land on...but it sinks." She answered in a slurred monotone, but I got closer and I finally saw what she was doing. She was trying to land on a waterlogged bit of timber, but it would sink away everytime she tried. I could guess she hadn't made it back to the ship and had spent the whole night lost in the storm. Her erratic actions kind of indicated that her fatigue had reached a critical point.


"You can't swim, can you?" I asked. Maybe that was the cat half of her asserting itself. She shook her head, a look of utter despair blooming in her eyes, "It's fine, land on my back. I'll still be able to tread water and you can rest for a bit."


I didn't need to ask twice. Her extra weight settled me slightly deeper into the sea, but her added buoyancy went a long way towards keeping her afloat. In the end I couldn't tell that it was any harder carrying her than not. I couldn't swim very fast with her back there, though.

Her claws and talons dug into my shoulders and I turned to tell her to knock it off, but when I looked back I saw she'd fallen asleep standing on her front legs with her rear settled down, so I figured it wasn't worth waking her for. If she could nap half submerged in the lapping waves, precariously perched on a swimmers back, who was I to interrupt her?






It was many hours before Georgia stirred again. I'd grown used to her weight there and even the intrusive barbs of her claws had lost their sting when she retracted them and stretched with a yawn, "Damn, I was hoping that was a nightmare."


"You sound a lot better." I observed.


"Yeah, I'm glad you happened along, I was pretty loopy towards the end, wasn't I?" Georgia laughed sheepishly, "How long was I out?"


"Half the day." I gestured upwards towards the sun with the little of my muzzle that still broke the surface, "I've been swimming East, not making great time at it. Now with the sun right overhead I'm not dead sure I'm headed the right way anymore. I was thinking of just treading water here until I could be sure."


"No, you're fine. Maybe fifteen degrees off due East, to the North, but there's bound to be some drift." She said and before I could ask about it she told me that griffons have an innate sense of direction, like a built in compass, I was later informed that that's an old pony tale.


"Do you know how far from land we are?" I asked hopefully,


"A ways yet. Farther than I can fly in one go, I think." She stretched her wings appraisingly, "Can't you, y'know, call some dolphins? I hear they help swimmers all the time."


"I would have, but I haven't heard them or any other creature I can talk to all night. We're in a pretty deep part of the ocean, so there's a lot less activity of that sort out here. I can try anyway, but it'll work better if I'm under water so the sound carries right. You'll have to get off my back for a minute." When she lifted off it was an immense relief. Forget what I said about it not being any harder swimming with her than without. Suddenly I was light and free again.

I dove under, cast my time tested amplifying spell and chirped and grunted out a call for help to any dolphins nearby. I got no response, rose for a breath, dove back under and tried the same thing for every species I could think of from manatees to narwhals. Killer whales to sea serpents. I even tried what little I knew of the shark's language. Contrary to popular belief they weren't all likely to kill you. I  called it quits, there just wasn't anyone this far out.


"I'm sure we'll hear something when we get closer in." I called up to Georgia, trying to reassure her.


"You tired?" She asked. In truth I was, but it didn't seem like it mattered much since I had to keep swimming, so I just made non-committal grunts, "I can carry you for a while, let you rest for a bit if you want to try."


I did want to try and told her so. I couldn't sleep as she flew like she could when I swam, but it was something. She hugged me to her chest with her talons, gently for once and without those sharp damn claws. My legs dangled, the warm noon air gusted over me, burning away the moisture, leaving me covered in an itchy, salty rime. Georgia started to tell me how she came to be down here. I think it was a catharsis for her more than anything. It was clear what we were going to have to do to survive, but complaining, up to a point, is a good balm. "I'm not sure why the ship hasn't come after us. That pink friend of yours saw you falling and I took off after you just figuring she'd tell somebody else and they'd come help."


"Where was your buddy?" I asked, since we'd all been paired up so as to keep tabs on each other.


"Asleep. But I was on watch so I couldn't leave yet. I should have made him stay up, it was against the rules, he was supposed to be watching me." She spit in disgust, managing to get a bit of overspray on me, "But why wouldn't your Captain come back for us? Does he just count us as expendable or something?"


"I can't say." I said, by which I meant that Pinkie hadn't told anyone and if no one had seen her go there was little hope of rescue on that front. I don't really know why she sent Georgia to save me, that seemed risky for her.


"I can't figure it either." Then she gave me a scrutinizing look, "How did you manage to fall off the ship anyway?"


"I can't say."


"Accident, huh? Well, I guess it happens to the best of us. They really should put higher railings on those ships. They say it's not necessary since the whole crew can fly, but I tell you, we lose more stuff over the sides than I'd like to admit and it's jarring when you do trip over the stupid knee high things." She groused, wholly misinterpreting my reply, "I guess you're wondering why I don't just fly us to land?"


"It had occurred to me." I said, "I've seen pegasi carry ponies quite a long way and their wings are quite a bit smaller than griffon wings."


I winced as I said it, expecting that it would be a sore spot, but it had quite the opposite reaction, she was suddenly enthusiastic to elucidate the differences, "See, that, that right there is the whole thing. Pegasi have smaller wings, but for sheer body density they average a third heavier than a griffon, so you wouldn't think it'd work at all would you? But it turns out we fly completely differently. The pegasi, being ponies, are connected with the magic of the world much closer than we griffons. I mean ponies seem to be the chosen race, somehow, I never got that, really."
"My point is that pegasi couldn't fly if they were just pushing against the air, their wings are just too small, but they're pushing against the inherent magic in the air. It's brilliant when you think of it, but it turns out we do too, just to a much lesser degree, so the pegasi are generally a bit stronger fliers than us even though we have bigger wings. They don't get tired as quick with the smaller wings either so they can fly longer distances. I'd be jealous, I guess, but I get to be an apex predator, I could peck their intestines out if I felt like it, so I think I've still got the upper talon."


I gave her a horrified look and she backpedaled on that last bit, "Well, I mean, not that I ever would, but it does make you feel sort of superior when your rival's a prey animal."


"This sort of thing is why ponies are still afraid of griffons." I told her.


"Well, I think we secretly like when you're afraid, at least a little bit. It's close to respect only you haven't got to earn it." She shook her head, "You though, you weren't afraid of us, trying to impress us and kiss up like those other ponies. For that, you've got my respect."


"Leave it to a griffon to only respect ponies who're as rude as they are." I said and we both chuckled, it was certainly true enough to be funny.







Shortly we were forced from the air and Georgia roosted on my back again as I swam. We kept this pattern up for hours, then a day. I learned to nap hanging in the air. We gave up talking for lack of water to lubricate our throats and with no land in sight it was pretty certain one of us would give out pretty soon. I was determined it would not be me.

I made my mind a machine, a steadily thrumming taskmaster whose only concern was to keep those dead, heavy hooves churning. They tried to give out, but I wouldn't let them, in my mind I was unstoppable, a mindless, industrial thing made of great hunks of recalcitrant muscle that needed to be coerced by sheer mental force. I gladly let my underlying flecks of madness fester into a grinning pandemonium and channeled it all into continued forward motion. By the time Georgia missed her turn flying and looked unlikely to recuperate I'd left all semblance of sanity in the waves. Aside from the twitches and the brief fits of dry laughter there was no particular sign. I kept moving and kept moving... until I didn't.

I rolled over on my back, floating. Georgia tried to lift me, but she couldn't. She hovered sloppily above me.


"Leave me," I croaked, "Fly on, maybe you can still make it. I'm already dead."


"I'm not leaving you." She said in a harsh, hoarse whisper, "I'm not. I'll drown, and I won't leave you besides, not after all this. We'll die together, it'll be fine."


That was not remotely my idea of fine but I just didn't have it in me to argue. I was dehydrated,  possibly insane and hallucinating lightly. I was trying to figure out if the alicorn goddess with fish tail before us was real when I realized something. I could hear someone. A pod of dolphins playing not far off and I called to them. A desperate plea for help and in moments they had surrounded us.

I spoke to them in hurried, clipped squeaks. Then I pleaded with them but they shook their heads, not wanting anything to do with us.


"Bucking dolphins," I managed, then bellowed with a cracking voice, "I'll kill you all!"


They just laughed in their dolphin way and sped off. Apparently the griffons had caught some dolphins in their fishing nets and let them die, a tragedy they were intent upon doubling. When they saw Georgia they thought it would be a good lesson if they just let us die for her race's transgressions. Then they said they were going to warn any creature who'd listen to stay away from us, telling them that we were killers setting a trap.

"No go." Was all I told Georgia. Then I rolled back over, rage made me a locomotive again and I started swimming, I didn't really have any choice, "Hop on."


Georgia managed one more flight later on, but I was soon back in the water. Dusk came and with it fog. My mechanized dreams were giving way to a grandiose, sobbing despair that was threatening to break free. I had to keep gulping down my cries to keep them from escaping because as soon as the did, that would be the end.

I thought I must have slipped into the land of the dead still swimming because a twisted black prow peeked out from the fog and headed towards us. I nudged the sleeping griffon on my back, but she didn't move so I figured she was dead too. The brief hope that it was a regular ship, not a ghost ship was dashed as it drew closer, headed straight for us and then stopped, dead in the water but a yard before us.

Real ships didn't move in that manner, it was just impossible. No voices rose and no lights shone from the battered hulk. I recognized it though, and then I knew it was a phantom as surely as if it'd been tied around my neck, following me.


I nudged the dead gryphon again to tell her the news, "It's come for us. It's the bucking Albatross."


Then I made for the ship's ladder and trudged up it with my cadaverous companion in tow. Buck this, I thought as I crashed to the deck, I've had enough, I know when I'm licked, I'm calling the damned seaponies.