//------------------------------// // Tomb of the Aquanauts (b) // Story: The Majestic Tale (of a Mad-Pony in a Box) // by R5h //------------------------------// We now return to Tomb of the Aquanauts. Don't move, Lyra thought. Don't move, don't breathe, don't make a peep. Anoese pulled away from the quarray eel's jaws just as they snapped through the water, only to dive in toward its glowing eye with his trident outstretched. It was insane, like trying to fight a volcano or an earthquake or a rockslide, except that the rockslide knew where you were. The quarray eel saw Anoese's attempt and turned its face toward him—a face long and large enough that its nose struck Anoese in the side with the force of a battering ram. He was thrown aside and floated limp in the water. Lyra’s breath caught as the eel pulled back its head, readying for the bite. Then Rusty Davey charged forward, yelling in defiance and shoving one shoulder into the eel's eye. With its attention diverted, the eel didn't see or hear him until he'd made impact. It recoiled, opening its mouth in what looked like a scream of pain, but it made no sound. The whole thing was close to silent, in fact: the water muffled the strikes of flesh on scales, giving the whole thing a nightmarishly surreal quality—or a nightmarishly real one. Lyra didn't know which would be worse. Now the quarray eel was furious; it snapped at Davey, who retreated to where Anoese still floated. Davey hefted the trident with an ease that Anoese had lacked and bared his teeth at the eel. Okay, I can't not move anymore, Lyra thought. Move. The eel lunged for Davey; he got out of the way just in time. Move, she told herself, as Rusty feinted with the trident. Move, or they are going to die. Nothing happened in her body. Seaponies, she thought, as Rusty charged forward, only to veer off course as the eel went for him—it missed his tail by inches. The seaponies are going to die if this thing keeps attacking. She glanced over at the Doctor, whose attention was focused on the fight. Think. Think think think, please think. What can we use? Davey went low, under the quarray eel's field of vision, but it could still hear him. As he passed through one of the town's streets, the massive head came down to pursue him, plowing through coral homes like they were sugar glass. Their destruction, like everything else, was muted and dreamlike. Muted. Wait. Lyra glanced at the Doctor again. Hang on a second. Then, she glanced at his pocket. “Sonic,” she whispered. He didn't respond. Rusty was back out of the street, but it didn't matter; the eel had tired of him. Its one good eye focused on Chief Anoese, who seemed at best semi conscious. “Sonic screwdriver,” she whispered, trying to force more air from her lungs. Of all the times for my throat to close up! Now, when it actually matters! But he seemed to at least pick up on the fact that she had said something, and moved a little closer to her. “What?” he asked. Lyra couldn't make more words come out, so she focused her magic. A green glow appeared around the Doctor's pocket, and the silver device pulled its way out. He looked at it for a moment, then clapped a hoof to his forehead. “I'm thick! Thank you, Lyra!” And then he was off, twisting his screwdriver frantically. The eel reared back, ready to kill Anoese. But the Doctor was faster. He pointed and clicked, and the most earsplitting sound pierced the ocean. Lyra covered her ears, but the quarray eel howled—and this time, Lyra could hear the low, guttural choking sound, if only just. The Doctor jammed the screwdriver right up against the eel’s head; it thrashed from side to side, and he grabbed its head and held on for dear life, but did not relent. With each wild swing, its head retreated further, until the tip of its beak disappeared beneath the sand. For a few seconds the shrill scream of the Doctor’s screwdriver was diminished in volume. Then it cut off. The Doctor emerged from the hole, panting. “I think... we're okay,” he said. “New rule: no loud noises.” He paused for a moment, then added, “And yes, I realize that sounds a... tiny bit hypocritical.” Behind herself, Lyra saw a few more seaponies peek from behind houses. Some turned away and buried their heads in their fellows' necks: perhaps it had been their homes that were destroyed. The Doctor winced and looked away. A low groaning came from the side; Anoese was coming to. Lyra wasn't quite able to move just yet, but in this case it didn't matter: Octavia and the Doctor rushed to his side within seconds. “Stay calm,” the Doctor said. “You've had a massive shock, probably. I had a friend who was a doctor once, she taught me a few things....” He felt down Anoese's front, but the chief grimaced and pushed him away. “I will live,” he said. “That is what matters.” Lyra experimentally rotated her front hooves. “Are you certain?” Octavia asked, as Anoese—moving like a run-down automaton—swam to retrieve his trident from Rusty, who presented it with a nod. Anoese fumbled the grabbing of it, and Octavia moved down to help get it into his grasp. “You really need to find a better place to live.” “I am fine,” Anoese repeated, with more conviction, but Lyra saw him hold back a wince. “Well....” The Doctor shrugged. “If you're certain. Did anyone see where the Nautilus got to?” He looked around at the assorted group, who—judging by their nonplussed expressions—had had better things to focus on than the broken submarine. “Oh, you and your attention spans. Hold on one second. Well, I say one....” With that, he was off down a mostly-intact side-street. “I wasn't kidding,” Octavia said, as Anoese let himself drift down to lean against part of the coral. “You're living in an incredibly dangerous, awful place. Get out of here.” He frowned at her. “You suggest we should abandon our homes, again. Do you know how many times we have been pushed back?” “And all those times, you left because it was too dangerous. It's too dangerous now, Chief.” “This is the last part of our reef we can call ours. You would have us give up where our parents lived, and our grandparents, and....” His eyes narrowed. “Have you ever been forced from your home, Octavia? Can you say what that feels like?” “Yes!” A bit of a smile lifted Octavia's lips.“Yes, in fact, I can. And, in fact, it was one of the better events of my life. So why not find a new home? Another reef? What would the difference be, except for your safety?” Anoese sighed, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Look at me,” he finally said. “Look at my scales.” Octavia frowned, and looked down at his lower body and tail, both of which were covered by scales. Unlike the rest of his body, they were iridescent as if new. “I don't see what you're getting at,” she said. “But you see them. And you see what hangs round your neck.” Now Octavia rested her chin on her torso, the better to see the scale on her necklace. “Yes, I see. They look the same—is that what you mean?” “They do,” Anoese said, opening his eyes. “But none of the scales on my body could do what that scale does, because not any scale will protect a poor soul lost to the sea. It's not only belief, you see—a seapony must carry that scale in a time of great joy for it to be blessed with that power. “That one—” he poked Octavia's scale “—came from... what was her name... Mina. She was a child, and one night she brought that scale with her to the surface and watched lights fly across the sky like fish across a reef.” He smiled a small smile, with little lines wrinkling around his eyes. “We didn't have a name for those lights and neither did she, but that didn't matter—they were beautiful, and her joy was simple and pure. And that is how your scale was blessed, though it looks no different to you.” His smile faded. “Now, you want me and my people to give up the reefs we have called home for centuries, so we can find another home that is no different? I may as well advise you to replace your scale with one of mine and stay down here with me.” “That's....” Octavia gritted her teeth. “That's not the same thing. I cannot survive outside this bubble.” “And I will not live,” Anoese grunted, pushing himself off the wall and grasping his trident, “outside my home. So we must agree to disagree.” He tried to swim forward, but gasped and fell back against the wall. “Leave me,” he said, as Octavia tried to help him up. “There are more pressing matters at hoof.” Octavia sighed, but backed off. However, Seabiscuit came up beside her and said, with a quavery voice, “Um, can I just point out that I'd like to take what Octavia said and apply it to us?” He looked around, first at Octavia, then at Lyra, then at Davey and Mariana. “Look, I... I want to go back up. I'm sorry,” he said, turning now to Anoese, “but quarray eels were bad enough, and now there's this cult involved, apparently, and the eels can attack anywhere, and I don't know if I can—if we can really stay.” The corner of Mariana's mouth jolted downward in a half-frown. “So we should leave the seaponies to die?” she said. Seabiscuit gulped, and Mariana continued, “You're on my crew, Seabiscuit, and frankly I was being generous when I put it to a vote. We're staying, because we care about helping people. Ponies or otherwise.” Seabiscuit took a deep breath in, looking greener than ever. “Look, okay, you want to help people? I want to help people!” He struck his hoof on his chest, just above the heart. “I want to advance the cause of science, I want to save lives, I want to do a lot of good, good things. But more than that, I want to go home. I've—I've got a sister up there waiting to welcome me back,” he said, looking beseechingly at Mariana. “What in Tartarus happens if she never sees me again?” Lyra floated to Seabiscuit's side and rested a hoof on his back. “Hey,” she said, as his head jerked up to look at her. He's so scared, she noticed. “It's scary, I know. It's really, really terrifying for me too.” “I'm not scared for myself,” he said, with a mask-like expression. Lyra imagined his face as a decrepit old building, barely shored up by scaffolding: one wrong push…. “I am.” Lyra took a deep breath, trying to choose her words carefully. “But they need us, and we can help. So I think we have to stay. Just for a little longer. Okay?” When this provoked no response, she continued, “And hey, I bet you’ll see your sister really soon, safe and sound. Er, I mean you’ll be safe and sound, but I guess she’ll be safe and sound too, right?” She tried to smile. “Um....” Seabiscuit looked all around, but, seeing no one sympathetic to his suggestion of retreat, his head drooped. “Okay,” he said miserably. “Yeah, she’ll be fine.” He planted a hoof on his face and breathed deeply through his nose. It felt a bit like she’d just committed arson. Lyra cast her mind around for something else to say, but another voice cut off her train of thought. “Good news, everypony—and others!” The Doctor had just returned, pushing the Nautilus in front of him. “She's fixed! No need to thank me!” “Fixed?” Mariana asked. “Well, in one very important respect.” The Doctor grinned, and with a flourish he dove into the submarine hoof-first, as though to press a button. A moment later, Lyra realized that that was exactly what he'd done, judging by his next words: “Blue Shift, this is the Doctor. Repeat, Blue Shift, this is the Doctor speaking. I've repaired the submarine's radio system, we're all safe, and—” His next words were drowned out by a trio of surprisingly familiar voices. “Doctor!” “Lyra, you're okay?” “Tavi!” “Oh, good,” Dr. Shift said, smiling insincerely as his hoof lifted from the transmit button. “Shouting over each other, that's the best way to have a conversation. This is turning out just as well as the books say the Three Tribes meeting did. You even look the part!” He gestured with his hoof at Bon Bon, Derpy, and Vinyl. Bon Bon glared at him. “Shut up with the history lesson and let us talk to our friends.” “All right, but in some sort of order. None of this 'let's all talk at once' rubbish. I'll go first.” Shift pressed the button again and said, “Hello, Doctor... and everyone else. Good to know the radio works. You've got some guests who are simply demanding that I let them hog the frequency, so why not, I suppose.” “Vinyl?” came Octavia's voice on the other end, as Shift sighed and walked away. “What are you doing here?” Vinyl surged forward before the other two could to press the button. “Not saying 'I told you so',” she replied. “Even though I totally could be. You can thank me later, Octy.” “I'd wager you just said it.” Vinyl heard a bit of a chuckle in those words; she grinned herself, and fired back with, “Nah, doesn't count. But seriously, everypony doin' okay down there?” “Swimmingly,” the Doctor said. “Sorry, too good to resist,” he added as Bon Bon groaned. “Really, though, what are you doing here?” Derpy took the question. “Blue Shift was broadcasting the event over the radio. We heard things went wrong, and... well, I knew you'd down go, so we all got together and went on the train next. We just got here.” Vinyl resisted the urge to correct her grammar, and said, “Seriously, though, seaponies? That's what's going on? Those are supposed to just be a myth.” “Says the fluorescent unicorn.” The Doctor sighed. “People and their skepticisms, I'm telling you.” “Whatever,” Vinyl said. “So you're gonna be down there and help the seaponies, and then you're definitely gonna come back, right?” The Doctor didn't respond. Vinyl pressed on: “You're all definitely coming back up, right?” She hoped she sounded insistent rather than afraid—and she really hoped the Doctor was being a donkey's rear, rather than honest. Finally, his voice came over the radio: “I will absolutely do my best.” Vinyl groaned and dropped her head against the control panel, then magically pressed the button. “You're not doing a great job of reassuring me, Brownie.” “Oh, I'm sorry, I'll tell you the lie where it's perfectly safe to be kilometers deep and under siege by train-sized eels. Is that what'll reassure you, Vinyl Scratch?” Vinyl lifted her hoof over the button, but couldn't find a reason to press it down. The heck am I supposed to say to that? “Excuse me?” said Blue Shift behind them; the three of them turned to see him peeking through the doorway. He gave a little wave, and continued, “If you could proceed to closing remarks, there's a young filly out here who'd like to speak to Seabiscuit, and I do like to do right by my crew.” The three of them looked at each other; then, as if they'd shared a decision, Derpy pressed the button. “Do what you gotta do down there, Doctor. Save the day.” “Roger that,” he said. Bon Bon was next. “Lyra?” “Yeah?” came the voice on the other end. “You're being very brave, going underwater like that.” Bon Bon smiled. “Stick with the Doctor, okay? He'll see you through this.” “Okay, BB.” Now it was Vinyl's turn to speak. Already? she thought. I don't get one friggin' minute to talk with Tavi and now I'm being booted out? “Tavi?” she said. “Vinyl?” “Come back up. Please, really, keep safe, and get back home, and….” Vinyl let off the button, took a deep breath to steady herself, then leaned back upon it. “Just make it back, Tavi.” There was a pause on the other end, and then Octavia said, “Right. I'll see you soon, Vinyl. That's a promise.” “I'll see you too.” Vinyl stopped talking, but kept the button depressed, as if holding an embrace. She didn't let go until Blue Shift nudged her away, saying, “Please remember it's not a private channel. Well, not yours at any rate.” Then Vinyl trudged out of the room behind Derpy and Bon Bon, past the filly who wanted to talk to Seabiscuit. As she left the shack, she looked up at the crowd. Now that the initial shock and terror had faded, they weren't waiting with bated breath; they were sitting, relaxing, even chatting—albeit in hushed tones: Blue Shift's assistant was seeing to that. What a bunch of jerkholes. The anxiety, the dread she felt seemed less like an emotion and more like a storm front—how could they not be affected? How could this rain be falling only on her? Oh, fine, she thought, I guess they don't have the same stake in this thing. Then she heard giggling, and looked up to see Derpy's face being overtaken by a grin as she whispered something to Bon Bon. The latter glanced back at Vinyl, then barely managed to force down a laugh. Okay, you guys have no excuse. “What?” Vinyl said, as the three of them made their way in front of the shack, obscuring them from the crowd. “What's so friggin’ funny?” “Oh,” Bon Bon said, forcing a smile down, “we're just laughing at Derpy. And you. Mostly you.” The smile came back up with the enthusiasm of a flotation device breaching the waves. Vinyl narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, Derpy cut in. “And at me! At my dumb eyes—I can't believe I didn't see it before!” “See what?” Vinyl said through gritted teeth. “You love her!” If Vinyl's rising temper had been a helium balloon, that would have been the pin. She stared at Derpy. “What are you... what?” “Octavia! You love love love love love her!” “What?” she said, forcing a laugh. “Nah, what would make you think that?” Bon Bon snorted. “Just make it back, Tavi,” she said, parroting Vinyl's voice, her desperate inflection. Stupid stupid stupid, Vinyl thought. “I'll see you too. There's friendship and then there's that. Really, now—” she lifted a hoof before Vinyl could get a word in “—she's the Element of Honesty, and I'm the princess of lies. You can't play this game and win.” Vinyl slumped her shoulders, deflating further. “Come on....” “Yeah, come on!” Derpy said with the enthusiasm of a flying puppy, as she hovered over Vinyl’s head. “You totally love her, don't you?” Vinyl sank against the shack's outside wall. “To pieces.” There, she thought, as Derpy and Bon Bon sat beside her, Bon Bon making a hoof pump. Said it. May as well keep going. “And I….” “Aaaaaaaand?” Bon Bon said. Vinyl sighed. Say it, wimp. “And I think it's gonna kill me.” It felt like induced vomiting—she knew she couldn't keep this all bottled up forever, but that didn't mean it had to feel awesome coming out. She pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “Kill you?” Derpy asked. Vinyl looked her in the eyes, or at least in one of them. “Have you ever been so full of the right cracks, the right jokes, and then you try to admit one little thing and it's like getting blood from a… I dunno, a stone, or a cliff, or a mountain range? Have you ever loved somepony so, so much, and had no idea how to tell them?” “Um.... I don't know.” Derpy shrugged. “Can't you just... tell her? It's just three words.” “Are you—are you even listening?” Vinyl slammed her hooves against the shack's side as she slumped further. “I mean, it's not like I haven't tried. Holy crap, have I tried. I mean, wow. I deserve a trying award or something—” “And what?” Bon Bon asked. “Does it always come out as verbal diarrhea like this?” Vinyl chuckled. “Yeah, I'm a real Scatmare, ain't I. But that's not it—I mean, the thing is, every time I say anything that comes anywhere in the general area of 'I want you and me to be marefriends', she acts like I'm lighting a bomb and chucking it at her. So I keep playing it off like it's a joke.” She sighed. “I think she thinks that I just think she's hot. Which she totally is, don't get me wrong, but—” Bon Bon lifted a hoof to her lips, and Vinyl stopped talking, but squinted at her. “I'm sorry, I just don't see the issue,” Bon Bon said. “So you say it and things happen from there. She says yes or she says no. So what?” “Yeah. So what.” Vinyl felt like if she slumped any lower, she'd be submerged entirely in sand. “And now she's kilometers deep or whatever, but so what. Do you know how bad it feels to watch someone hurt her, or try to hurt her?” When Bon Bon shook her head, Vinyl continued: “Well, it's got nothing on not being able to watch. If she... if she doesn't....” An unexpected gust of wind from the ocean blew at her, carrying bits of sand with it. She took a shuddering breath and sat up straighter, pulling her glasses back on to protect her eyes. “Okay, so I can't tell her. That means that neither of you can tell her either. Got it? This is a secret.” “Hmm....” Bon Bon tapped her jaw. “I dunno if I'll be able to do that. I mean, being the princess of lies and all, if I were to promise to keep quiet, how would you know I was telling the truth?” “If you tell her, I will kick your rump through your face.” Lifting a hoof, Bon Bon pulled away from Vinyl. “Wow, okay. Really, I'm joking with you, miss Element of Joking With You. I'll keep it, sure." She waited a few seconds, until Vinyl was starting to relax, then added, "But on two conditions. First of all, I want to know the why.” “'The why'?” Vinyl repeated, feeling less relaxed. Derpy tapped her on the shoulder. “I think she means, 'Why do you love Octavia?' Like, to opposed as being friends.” “I mean....” Vinyl rubbed her head, taking a minute to think of the words. Maybe I should write this down. “Okay, first of all, did I mention that rockin' booty? Because seriously, that thing goes for daaayyyys....” She chuckled nervously, but when neither Bon Bon nor Derpy showed any sign of approval, she moved on. “And... she's nice, and she's witty, and she's gorgeous, and... she believes in me.” Derpy squinted. “I believe in you too. I can see you right there.” “You know what I mean,” Vinyl said, gently punching Derpy's shoulder. When she was greeted with only a blank expression from Derpy, Vinyl raised her hooves in a 'really?' gesture. “All right, maybe you don't, so listen up. You remember my first concert with Tavi? You watched it from the TARDIS, remember?” “Yeah, we were there,” Derpy said. “And then. Hehe, get it?” “Everypony gets it, Derpy. Thing is, that was sort of a... last ditch for me.” Vinyl sighed. “I mean, think about it. If Octavia hadn't worked with me there, security would have dragged me off and then where the hay would I have ever played again? Do you think I'd do any DJing after that?” She smiled. “But she didn't just work with me. We got together, we planned that next real concert, and she poured her heart and soul and cash into that, and she's always so incredibly there for me and... I guess I've never had anyone believe in me like that before.” Behind her, Bon Bon snorted. “You sound like a puppy.” “Rump through the face, remember?” Vinyl said, turning to glare at her. Bon Bon appeared unfazed, and said, “Anyway, on to condition two. Do you mind if I tell you a story?” “Ooh, tell it!” Derpy said. Vinyl just shrugged. “All right. So, when I was a filly in Manehattan, there was this colt—” “Hang on,” Vinyl said, “you grew up in Manehattan? I grew up in Manehattan! You never said!” “That's probably because I'm lying right now. Shush.” Wait, what. Vinyl's jaw dropped as Bon Bon continued without any apparent shame. “So there was this colt, I forget his name... Wind Catcher, it might have been. Yeah, Wind Catcher, this cute as a button little pegasus. And I had a bit of a crush on him—don't laugh,” she added, though Vinyl wasn't about to do anything of the sort. “So I stewed on that for weeks, and I mean weeks. And then one day I walked up to him on the playground, and I told him, and he said no, and ‘eww’, and I think he might have called me stinky. And I felt sad for a few days, and then? I felt just fine. Tied up that loose end really nicely.” She paused, then said, “Does that help?” Vinyl’s jaw was a bit open; she pulled it back up for appearances’ sakes, then squinted at Bon Bon. “But....” “But?” “Beebs, you literally just told me that whole story was a lie.” “I could have been lying about that.” Bon Bon winked. “Seriously, did it help?” Well, I feel confused as all heck now instead of depressed, so kinda? “So... which is it? Lie, or not?” Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “Look, believe what you want. But you see my point, right?” “She's lying.” Bon Bon's eyes widened as she and Vinyl turned again to look at Derpy, who smiled and said, “You've never been to Manehattan, have you.” Bon Bon's jaw slackened. “How do you—don't do that!” she exclaimed, stepping toward Derpy. “I mean, it's impressive, but I had a good thing going!” “You think it's impressive?” Derpy said, smiling just a little. “Well, yeah, I'm pretty good at this, after all... but really, don't do that!” She stomped her hoof in indignation. “Uh, actually do do that?” Vinyl said, waving at Derpy. “Because I don't like the idea of not knowing when she's lying her face off?” “Oh, you're one to talk,” Bon Bon muttered, rubbing her face. “Miss 'I can't tell my crush that I'm crushing on her'. At least I told you I might be lying, so it looks like I’m winning the honesty game here, and doesn’t that make you feel sad?” She glared up at Vinyl. “Want my advice? Be honest, and be honest soon, because you won't be able to hide this forever. It'll be like that time my parents asked if it was me or my brother stealing from the cookie jar, and I blamed him, and then they found pink hair in the jar... I'm the only one in my family with pink hair, you see.” Vinyl looked at Derpy, but she just shrugged. Bon Bon grinned. “Still got it.” “Give the stallion some privacy,” Captain Mariana said, directing the Doctor, Lyra, and Octavia away from the Nautilus as Seabiscuit moved in to talk with his little sister. “He wants to talk with his connection up top. Can't say I blame him.” The Doctor frowned. “Do you have anyone up top?” Mariana snorted. “Pfft, hardly. Been in the navy one way or another for ever since I was a brat. Then my parents got lost at sea, and….” She narrowed her eyes. “And why in Equestria am I telling you this?” The Doctor smiled, hopefully in a trustable manner. “Stressful situation. These things come out. I once got lost in a maze and got to know some of my best friends....” Mariana grimaced—with half her face again; he really wanted to ask about that—and moved away. The Doctor did not attempt to restart the conversation. Evidently, not trustable enough. Octavia sighed as she let herself drift down the coral reef's street. “Does anypony else feel shortchanged?” she asked. “I feel like I could have easily used many more minutes speaking with Vinyl.” “Well, maybe a bit, I suppose.” The Doctor shrugged. “Well, okay, a lot. Would have liked it if Derpy had gotten some words in edgewise. Mind you, Vinyl would have taken up any extra minutes we could throw at her. Talked our receiver off, didn't she?” Octavia smiled. “Somewhat, yes.” For reasons the Doctor couldn't quite see, Octavia looked quite without a care as she said that. Although, thinking about it... I suppose she's the one who can't see it, he realized. Obvious, really, from the outside. He resolved to act as though he had realized nothing. The three of them sat against the reef wall. “Ah, well,” Octavia said, as a small amount of tension reasserted itself within her shoulders. “I suppose Seabiscuit cares just as much about his sister as we care about our... and, in any case, how could we balance that?” After a few seconds' silence, she then turned to Lyra, who was staring at the sand. “You've been quiet.” “Shush, I'm idea-ing.” Octavia opened her mouth—possibly to remind Lyra that “thinking” was still an actual word—but Lyra raised a hoof and said, “Please, please, please, if you talk I might lose it.” She froze for several seconds, then blurted out, “Wait, I lost it!” She scrunched up her face in concentration, tapping a hoof against the sand. “Come on, come on, what was it....” As if sleepwalking, she drifted forward, eyes still closed. “I had it, I had it and it's on the tip of my brain....” Her eyes flew open—“That's it!”—just in time for her to see the building she was about to crash into. She hastily pulled back, and turned to the Doctor and Octavia with a grin on her face. “I got the idea back.” “The idea for what?” the Doctor asked. “The idea for how we put the quarray eels out of business for good.” She hoof-pumped, then frowned. “Did that sound cool? I was going for sounding cool.” “Reasonably cool, yeah. Wouldn't you say, Octavia?” Octavia glanced at him. “Sure?” she said dubiously. “In any case, what's the idea?” “Okay, so you said the quarray eels were super-sensitive to sound, right?” Lyra asked Octavia. When she nodded, Lyra continued, “And you used your sonic screwdriver, and it made the one quarray eel retreat, but it only works on one at a time, because it's not very big, right?” Now it was the Doctor's turn to nod. Lyra concluded, “Well, think about it. All we need is, like, a big speaker, and then I can modify it so it makes all the quarray eels go away forever.” “You can do that?” the Doctor asked. “Well, yeah. I mean, it's my day job, right?” Octavia, to his left, nodded, but the Doctor felt as though this was probably his cue to respond with an enthusiastic “Yes!” except that he'd missed the rehearsal. He was only able to manage an awkward, “Er, of course.” Lyra stared at him. “You... you do know about my day job, right? The one where I design instruments and sound systems and stuff for a living, which is why my cutie mark is a lyre because I do musical instruments for a… living....” Her shoulders slumped. “Has this never come up?” “Well....” The Doctor pouted. “I dunno... I guess I never thought of you as the day job type.” Lyra's mouth opened slightly. “I know what you mean,” Octavia said, nodding at Lyra, “but she's actually quite good. She designed the equipment for our concert in Fillydelphia.” Lyra's mouth opened further, and the Doctor immediately regretted having said anything, or that Octavia had said anything—even before Lyra started talking. He knew that mouth. That was the universal rant mouth. “What do you mean, 'you know what he means'?” she declared. “Of course I have a day job! A real, important-things... day job! For real money! I do my own taxes and everything! Well, actually, Bon Bon does the taxes—I pay my own taxes and everything, and that's the important part!” “Ahem?” Octavia raised a hoof. “I believe we've derailed a bit, and you need to keep the volume down.” Lyra flinched at the mention of volume, and looked around for a few seconds, but it became clear that no eels were coming. “Fine,” she said, her temper only slightly subdued. “Well, since I'm such a job-having pony, I know that I can modify a big enough speaker and I can make it put out a sound ponies won't be able to hear—I just need a big enough speaker.” She grinned. “Great thing somepony brought one down, right? And it even works underwater.” “What speaker?” Octavia asked. The Doctor, on the other hand, only took a moment to figure out what Lyra meant. “Oh, the Nautilus's sonar! That'd be what attracted the quarray eels to the sub in the first place!” “And this time, it'll be what repels them. SOund Navigation And Ranging, you said?” Lyra's grin widened, revealing teeth. “Key word: sound.” “That's brilliant!” the Doctor said, moving in for a hug, but Lyra instead high-hoofed one of his outstretched hooves. After an awkward frozen moment, he decided to drop his hooves and continue. “So, soon as Seabiscuit gets off the horn, we get everyone together and talk about this?” “Sounds great to me,” Lyra said, turning and drifting away. “'Not the day job type',” the Doctor heard her mutter. “Feh.” “You can do it?” Seabiscuit said, as Lyra used her magic to yank a wire out from the sonar. “You can drive out the eels?” “Abso-tively,” Lyra grunted, charging her horn with power, “and posi-lutely.” Her horn discharged into the wire, flooding it with energy. “That's—that's great!” Seabiscuit said, though his tone didn't agree with him. Lyra didn't say anything back, and after a few seconds his shoulders slumped and he floated off, leaving Lyra to continue to tinker with the machine. It felt almost like being on a playground, with all the different connections to manipulate. She levitated the sonic screwdriver, which the Doctor had lent her, and pointed it at a screw, but a tapping sound from the Nautilus interrupted her. Dropping the screwdriver, she looked up to see Octavia with her hoof on the hull. “So, I've been thinking about this mission,” she said. Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Why'd you emphasize 'think'?” “... never mind that. The point is this: You've never seen or heard of this machine until today, and this whole plan relies on you being able to alter it outside its original capacities—” “Which I can totally do!” “Quite possibly, yes—listen. We have a radio in this ship, remember?” Octavia tapped the hull again. “And on the other end of that radio is the stallion who built this system. If you want my advice—” “—not sure I do, thanks—” “Call him. Ask him. He knows what he's doing.” Lyra glared up at her. Octavia sighed, and said, “Lyra, something's gotten into you and I'm not quite sure what. You're not usually this irascible.” “I can handle this, Octavia.” Lyra returned her attention to the screw. “Now shush. You don't interrupt an artiste during her artiste-ry... artistry.” She activated the screwdriver and watched as its target twisted itself loose from the case. “It's not art, it's... never mind.” Octavia rotated her shoulders, then floated away, saying, “Just do your best.” “Right you are, commander,” Lyra mumbled. For five minutes, no one else talked to her, and as a result, after those five minutes, she was finished. She hoped. It’s probably right, she thought, reattaching the sonar’s cover. Probably. I'd look really dumb if it wasn't. After a moment more, she laughed to herself. Of course it's right, she told herself. I'm the greatest. “Done, then?” the Doctor asked, lifting a hoof. Lyra nodded and floated toward him, and when their bubbles intersected she tossed the screwdriver into his hoof. “Molto bene!” he said, pocketing it. “Just a shame we can't test it before we use it.” “Why not?” Mariana asked. “I've got a feeling the quarray eels may become a bit... violent before they realize that the best way to escape the sonar is by returning to the surface. It's not easy, breaking mind control.  Trust me.” He shrugged. “So our best bet is to take the Nautilus as far into the tunnels as we can, activate it, and then... ooh, what's the phrase? Get out of Dodge?” “Into the tunnels?” Mariana raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly the safe option.” “The tunnels will keep the sound waves exactly where we want them—namely, the tunnels. If we turn the sonar on outside, too much of the sound will dissipate. So?” He looked around the little group that had gathered there: Anoese, Mariana, Rusty, Seabiscuit, Lyra, Octavia, and himself. He grinned without amusement. “Who wants to go where the shadows lie?” Anoese hefted his trident. “I will go—” But his body disagreed, and violently. A spasm struck him, and he dropped the trident and sank to the seafloor. “Anoese!” the Doctor said, rushing to him. “It's nothing—negligible.” Anoese coughed. “I can still—I should, I must. It ought to be me—” Another coughing fit seized him. It sounded like he was hacking up a gill. The Doctor palpated Anoese's bruise. “Okay, Anoese, you are officially not okay. Duty or no, you're not going. And it looks like I'm not either,” he said, grimacing at the group. “He really needs a lowercase doctor, and I'm the closest thing we've got at the moment.” “I'll go, of course,” Mariana said, “and Rusty as well.” Rusty nodded his assent. Mariana continued, “But we'll need someone who can fix the speaker if something happens, or if it's faulty.” Whaddya mean, if it's faulty? Lyra grimaced. “Oh, well, maybe I'll go, then.” “That would be perfect, thank you.” Mariana nodded. “So, that's our crew.” “Wait, what?” Lyra asked, silently cursing her fat mouth. “No, no, no no no no no—no. I—I—I was kidding!” She laughed nervously. “Like, why would I ever want to go in there, right?” Mariana sighed, and said, “Seriously?” Lyra nodded very hard. “Well,” Mariana continued, “we need somepony who has some familiarity with speakers... hey, you.” She gestured at Octavia, whose eyes widened. “Me? Well... yes, I suppose I have some familiarity with speakers, but it'd be immodest to call myself an expert. Not to mention false.” “Can you enter a dark, dangerous tunnel without needing to void yourself?” Davey asked. Octavia grimaced. “That was uncomfortably direct, but... yes, I'd say so.” “You're in,” he said. Then he lifted his head to look at Seabiscuit. “Biscuit? Coming?” Seabiscuit shook his head and shrank back, staring at an empty point in the ocean. “Please, no.” “I'm very surprised,” Mariana said, rolling her eyes. “All right, filly and gentlecolt, I suppose we'd better get moving. There is an ‘on’ button?” she asked Lyra. “Just activate the sonar in the ship,” Lyra said. “And I programmed in a bit of a time delay. It won't activate for about a minute, so you'll be able to leave it and skedaddle.” “Good. Team, to the Nautilus!” Mariana called. She, Octavia, and Rusty got on the opened side of the submarine, and each one planted their forehooves on its side. “On the count of three, we push,” she said. “One, two, three.” With a little apparent effort, the three of them lifted the Nautilus and began guiding it through the water, toward the tunnel-filled wall. Before long their forms had disappeared into the watery haze. Then it was the four of them floating there: the Doctor tending to Anoese, while Lyra and Seabiscuit floated uselessly. It felt sucky. Maybe I should have gone, Lyra thought. “Should I have gone?” she asked the Doctor, as he activated his sonic screwdriver inches from Anoese's wound. He didn't look up at her, but slowly drew the screwdriver over the area of the bruise. Lyra tried again. “I mean, I'm really scared and all, but... you once told me that courage is about being scared and doing what's right anyway, or something like that. So should I have gone, or....” He looked up at her. “Lyra, I'm working on a patient from a species I've never even heard of before today, and I'm not exactly a world-class physician. A little peace?” “Um, sure. Sorry, I'll... I'll just....” She drew away from him as he continued to deal with Anoese's wound, and found herself next to Seabiscuit, who seemed about as anxious as herself; he kept fidgeting his hooves against each other. After a few seconds, she worked up the courage, and opened her mouth—nothing came out. She sighed silently and said nothing. A few minutes later, she decided to try again, and opened her mouth. “Do you think I should have gone?” she asked. He glanced over at her. “I mean, I'm good with speakers and everything, but what if I made a mistake? I'd need to be there to fix it.” “Well, I....” Seabiscuit pressed a hoof against his forehead and sighed deeply. “Yes, I suppose it could break. I... I think I wish you had gone.” “Thanks...?” To be honest, Lyra thought, I guess I don't know what I wanted to ask him for anyway. She looked down at the ground, avoiding eye contact. A minute later, he spoke again. “They must be very close now.” He sighed and turned away from her, and seemed to stiffen. Then he turned back to her. “Do you mind if I see your necklace?” he asked, not looking her in the eye. “I’m curious about how it works.” “What? Oh, um... sure, I guess,” she said, putting her hoof under the scale and lifting it for easier viewing. “Thank you.” He still wasn't looking at her. “And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. You've been very kind.” His horn ignited, pulling the necklace over her head and sending it into the water beyond, and carrying the bubble with it. Before she could register what he'd said or done, the ocean closed in upon her, crushing her skin, her mouth, her nose, her eyes like a murderer. She flailed, kicking in the hope that she might reach her safe haven, but his magic pulled it further away. The last thing she saw before the pressure forced her eyes shut were his eyes, frantic and fearful. And she could not breathe. “Not a word,” Mariana whispered, as the three of them entered the nearest tunnel. Octavia didn't need telling twice: the darkness of the chasm before them was an almost palpable reminder that they were entering enemy territory. She focused on keeping her breathing calm and quiet. The little group pushed the Nautilus slowly through the rough-hewn rock. Does it matter the speed? Octavia wondered. Does moving through the water like this make any noise? Then another thought struck her: Even if I doesn't make any noise I can hear, what about a quarray eel? Will it hear? Now her heartbeat seemed suddenly deafening inside her skull. Can it hear me living? She tried to focus on the heartbeat, to slow it down, but it wasn't as easy as controlling her breathing—and at this she realized she'd forgotten to control her breathing. Deep breaths. Deep. Quiet. The darkness was building up, so Octavia looked around while she still could. Her scale's light glinted off the tunnel wall's uncountable facets, or would have if there'd been anything off which to glint. As it was, the rock was entirely dull, and was merely illuminated by the light. It felt almost as if they were trespassing in some long-abandoned castle cellar, with only a flickering candle to make their way. Beside her, Rusty raised a hoof, signaling for a stop, then used the same hoof to cup his ear. If Octavia wasn't mistaken, he was hearing something. But I can't hear anything, can I? But as she listened over the course of a dozen seconds, she could. It was a sound so quiet as to sound like silence—simply the ambient noise when no noise existed, like ringing in the ears—but it was there, and slow, and deep. If she strained her imagination, it sounded like snoring. Are the eels sleeping? She could hardly say for certain one way or the other, but it was a comforting notion. Finally, Mariana gestured forward, and the three of them resumed pushing. They wouldn't be able to go much further, Octavia surmised; it was getting almost too dark to see outside their little bubbles, and soon they'd be drifting in a featureless abyss. Which, she guessed, would be their cue to activate the sonar and float off. Calm, she thought, and pushed forward. Deep. Controlled. Quiet. Tap went the Nautilus, and the noise seemed to echo through Octavia's head. With a jolt she realized that, in the blackness, they'd misjudged their distance from the wall and struck a protruding bit of rock. She held her breath, as did Mariana and Rusty. The tunnel was silent—absolutely so. With another jolt she realized that the breathing noise had stopped. She flattened herself against the tunnel floor, fearing it would not be enough. Rusty and Mariana did the same, each on a different rotational section of the tunnel. The Nautilus sank to the bottom in front of her. Then she felt it—a pressure against her bubble, pushing her back slightly. The water around her was being displaced, and she thought she saw two crimson lights in the darkness. Oh, Luna, hear my prayer. Don’t let me die. She closed her eyes and braced herself for impact— It was like being in the barrel of a rifle. The quarray eel punched through the water more quickly than her eye could follow. Her only saving grace was that it seemed to have misjudged the sound's distance and passed them in favor of checking outside the tunnel. One moment, she caught a glimpse of its burning red eyes, and the next, all she could see was its crimson body—and the next, something slammed into her, and she careened through the tiny space between the eel and the tunnel wall, with no control. A bend in the tunnel broke her momentum, and maybe her back as well, when she crashed into it. She cried out in pain, thoughts of keeping quiet obliterated, and sank to the bottom. Wincing and shaking from the sensation, she tried to move, but then something metal tumbled into her torso, winding her and slamming her against the rock once more. She forced herself to open her eyes, and saw herself stuck beneath the Nautilus; the eel had struck it, and it had struck and trapped her. It lay upon her leg, and it was heavy enough—and she was bruised enough—that no matter how she strained, or tried to move with her scale, it would not budge. “Mariana?” she whispered, as loudly as her lungs would allow. “Rusty?” No response. As she looked around, she couldn't even see them. The tunnel was still dark, and the eel's massive body blocked most of the visibility that remained. Perhaps they were dead; perhaps they were unconscious; perhaps they were escaping the tunnel. They couldn't save her; no one could. But as she looked about pointlessly for some sign of help, she saw something worse yet: a metal hemisphere on the rocky floor, with ripped wires protruding from the face. It was the sonar, and the impact with the quarray eel had knocked it off. We failed, Octavia realized, feeling as limp and helpless as a doll. The seaponies will die—I will die—because we failed. Something wet touched her back hoof. She flinched away, wincing as the movement made her bruises flare up. Then, as she tentatively extended the leg again, she felt the wetness once more with her leg at full stretch. After a few seconds, she realized what was happening: her bubble, which had only ever been barely large enough to contain herself, was shrinking. The ocean was closing in. “Help me,” she whispered to the abyss. Stay tuned for the conclusion to Tomb of the Aquanauts.