Titanic

by Imperator Chiashi Zane

The safe

The safe lowered gently to the deck of Russian research vessel Keldysh, watched by everyone around it. That consisted of the majority of the crew of the Keldysh, both submersible crews, and Filthy Rich, the financier of the expedition. In addition, a young colt named Pipsqueak held a camera that had to weigh at least as much as he did, filming the historic moment.
The three members of Mir one’s crew trotted up to the safe, smiling like little foals on Hearth’s Warming Eve, led by Steep Dive, all four hooves off the ground, “Who’s the best, Say it…”
“You are, Dive,” Rock Heart rolled his eyes, then turned to Pipsqueak, “You rolling, kid?”
Pipsqueak nodded, “Yes sir.”
Rock nodded to the technicians, two heavyset Earth ponies who set to work breaking open the safe. As they worked, he started speaking again, “Here it is, the moment of truth. Here’s where we find out if the time, the sweat, the money,” a gesture at Mr. Rich, “and all the people brought out here to the middle of the North Atlantic… Were worth it. If what we think is in the safe, is, it will be the greatest…”
The safe door clangs to the deck, and Rock’s face flips towards it, Pipsqueak barely able to follow him as he moved up and almost shoved his muzzle into the open box. His gleeful smile started to droop. His eyes dimmed. His jaw dropped. “Horseapples.”
Dive clapped a hoof across Rock’s back, “You know, this happened to Jury Rig, and his career never recovered.”
Rock shoved the camera away, almost bowling over the colt holding it, “Get that outta my face.” He stormed off, hooves clomping against the deck.
__
A pair of Unicorns carefully extracted several sheets of paper from the safe and slid them into a water-bath to separate them, while others, and a couple of Earth ponies and Pegasi worked on other artifacts, cleaning them up and settling them in magically treated bags to preserve them.
Filthy Rich scowled at the phone in his hoof, “I don’t care. I know honey. This was a big risk. It didn’t pay off. Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be home in a couple of days. Bye.” He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt with his daughter, but she was wanting him home as soon as possible. Even as an adult mare, she still insisted on living at home, helping him with his finances, and she had been watching when the money had disappeared from his accounts.
__
Rock scowled at the video crew. Three colts and a filly with a hammer and apple on her flank. He flicked his eyes back to the colts, “You can’t just pack it up! I’m paying your checks, you send what I say to, when I say to. Now get that video ready!”
Rich ducked in, “How’s it going in here?”
Rock turned his face to the financier, “How’s it going? How?” He sputtered, flecks of saliva splattering on the deck at Rich’s hooves, “It’s going like a first date in prison! What do you think?” A moment later, he composed himself, “Sorry, what does the company think?”
Rich held up his cell-phone. Immediately after hanging up with his daughter, he had called the financial department of Rich Enterprises. Rock took the device and pressed it to his ear, voice going from harried and strained to a sort of oily smooth texture one usually saw in second-hand cart salesponies.
“Hi Daven? Buried? Look, it wasn’t in the safe. No, don’t worry about it, there’s plenty more places it could be. The floor debris in the suite, the mother’s room, the purser’s safe on deck C… Hang on a second,” he moved over to a screen showing the camera view of the two unicorns cleaning up the papers. One hoof tapped the screen, “I think…” He darted across the corridor, into the room with the cleaning trays, “Let me see that portrait.”
His blue-green magic encased the page gently, and he lifted it closer to his face, drawing a photograph out of his jacket pocket and setting them side-by-side. The charcoal drawing was in beautiful condition, though frayed at the edges, and showed a slender mare lying back on the divan he had glimpsed in the suite, a nude that made sure to show every detail. She was posed with a casual sort of modesty, the sort that turned it from pornography into art. And right there, at the base of her throat, sat the diamond necklace in the reference photo. Scribbled in the lower corner was a date, April 14, 912. Three letters, not mouth-written, nor magically scribed. R J D. Initials of the artist probably.
The phone slipped from his magical grip as he handed the two images to the technicians, “I’ll be damned. It is.”
__
“Welcome to the Equestrian News Network. Today, we have a very special event. Broadcasting live from the deck of the ESS Keldysh,” the announcer pointed at Rock, “Treasure Hunter Rock Heart is best known for finding ancient Zebrican gold in sunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now he is using the latest in deep-diving technology to work three kilometers down at another famous wreck, the Titanic. And here he is Mares and Gentlestallions, Rock Heart!”
The announcer stepped aside, levitating the microphone over to Brock, who took it in his own magic.
“Thank you Tracer. You know, Titanic is not just A shipwreck. Titanic is THE shipwreck, the Mount Everest of shipwrecks.”
__
In a small home, surrounded by ceramic models and crammed with art of all shapes and sizes, the TV looked out of place. Only one pony could even see it, an elderly mare sitting a a potter’s wheel. Sitting with her back to the TV, another mare, much younger, helped the older one spin the heavy wheel as the two listened to the broadcast.
“I planned this expedition for years, searching for funding, searching for the right spot to dive, the technology to reach her. Now, finally, after so long, we are out here recovering amazing artifacts, things that will have immense historical and educational value.”
“Now, it’s no secret that education is not your main purpose. You are a treasure hunter by trade, and talent,” the announcer indicated the shovel and gold emblem on his flank, “so what exactly is the treasure you are hunting here?”
Rock smiled, “I’d much rather show you, though not just yet.”
The older mare raised an ear towards the TV, “Turn it up please, dear.”
Your expedition is at the source of a storm of controversy, both over the salvage rights, and even the ethics of this dive. Many are calling you a grave robber.”
“Nobody called the recovery of artifacts from King Mire’s tomb ‘Robbery’. I have museum trained professionals here, making sure every artifact we recover is brought up and perfectly preserved and catalogued,” the champagne bottle floated into the frame, “A bottle of champagne, from the floor of a stateroom. Unfortunately, although the wax seal remained intact, water was able to work its way into the cork, and ruin the fine beverage. As the bottle floated off screen, the charcoal sketch floated into the frame, carefully blurred by both magic and the censor board. The camera panned in on the image, staying far enough back that it was obvious the image still sat in the water-bath it had been in before Rock grabbed it. He had taken the water too, “This drawing here, a piece that has been under water for eighty-four years, and we were able to preserve it intact. Should this have been left, remaining unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when it could instead be hung up and enjoyed in the here and now?”
The old mare stopped moving for a long moment, her jaw creeping down slowly with a bony creak, “I’ll be damned…”
__
Day three, third dive to the Titanic, Mir one and two were already in the water, just waiting for Rock to climb into his spot. He had one hoof in the hatch when Filthy Rich ran up to the edge of the floating dock, “There’s a call for you sir.”
“Mr. Rich, see these submarines, in the water? That means we’re launching. Take a message.”
“Sir, I think you’ll want to take this. Trust me.”
Rock had found that many of Filthy Rich’s instincts were correct, after all, it was how the stallion had made much of his fortune.
He reached out with a tendril of magic and snagged the phone from Rich’s hoof, bringing it down to his ear, “This is Rock Heart, what can I do for you…”
“Rose Culvert,” Rich spoke quickly.
“Mrs. Culvert?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if you had found the ‘Heart of the Ocean’ yet, Mr. Heart.”
He almost dropped the phone in the water, his magic flickering momentarily, with Filthy Rich smirking above him, “I told you, you wanted to take this call.”
“Alright Rose, you have my attention. Can you tell me who the mare in the picture is?”
“Of course. That mare, in the picture, is me.”
__
“It can’t be,” Steep dive muttered as he watched Mir two start a dive, going alone this time, “She’s a Celestia-damned liar. A nutcase, like that… What’s her name, Anasazi, the Russian babe?”
“Anastasia,” Rock’s expression didn’t shift. It had been locked in the same position, a stunned sort of glower, since he had hung up the phone. Though maybe that was too gentle a way to describe what he did to the poor device after Rose had hung up her end. Filthy Rich had fished what was left out of the ocean with a guppy-net, only for Rock to stomp phone and net into the deck. Everything he knew had to be wrong, if this woman was who she claimed to be.
Rich spoke up, voice shaky, as he stood well back, “They’re almost here. I can hear the chopper.”
The cold face melted away in an instant as the treasure hunter went into cart-saleman mode, “She says she’s Brilliant Rose Anwitt. It’s not possible, right? Brilliant Rose died on the Titanic, at the age of sixteen. If she had lived, somehow, she’d be what, a hundred?”
“Last month. Looked her up,” Anatole broke his own silence.
“So she’s a very old liar. You traced her back to the twenties.”
“Actress at the time, Last name at the time, Darkson. Then she married this stallion Open Culvert, moved to Cedar Rapids, had two kids. Now Culvert’s dead, and from what I heard, so is Cedar Rapids.”
The helicopter dipped in, forcing Rock to raise his voice, “And everybody who knows about the diamond is either dead, or on this ship, but she knows. I don’t know how, but I want to at least hear what she has to say on the matter. Got it.”
The helicopter settled onto the helipad, bouncing lightly on the rocking deck before the rotors slowed and stopped. Two men leapt from the vehicle and quickly secured the wheels to the deck before pushing a ramp into place. A little less than a dozen suitcases slid down the ramp, courtesy of the pilot, a broad shouldered Pegasus with a damaged wing. Finally, a wheelchair with the frail old mare rolled down the ramp, a tiny dog in her lap. As the younger mare wheeled her forward, the crew of the helicopter finally got around to unloading the important equipment, and Rock let them be, sending Rich and Anatole to help.
Dive smirked, “I’ll go check our supply of Depends.”
__
Inside a small room, below deck, Rock watched as the younger mare arranged several pictures on the dresser carefully.
“Is this room alright?” He was almost willing to give up his own, somewhat larger room, if necessary.
“Yes. Very nice. Have you met my grand-daughter, Fuzzy? She takes care of me.”
Fuzzy Culvert smiled softly, “Yes, Granny, we met up on deck, just a few minutes ago. Remember, up on deck?”
“Oh, yes, of course. You know, my memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”
Rock glanced over his shoulder at Dive, who rolled his eyes, before looking back to the pictures. They were normal family photos. Foals, Grandfoals, a stallion they assumed was her late husband, “There, that’s nice. I always have to have my pictures with me when I travel, and Freddy of course,” she patted the dog on the head, “Isn’t that right sweetie?”
Rock nodded silently along with the dog’s bobbing head, “Can we get you anything?”
“I should like to see my drawing.”

Author's Note:

And now, we meet one of the key players.

Comments

[Iroh Legoman]

how many time are you watching the movie to get the scenes and dialogue?

[Imperator Chiashi Zane]

Script times. (So much faster to actually have the script, especially with some of the parts being whispered, or really loud)

[Cherry Noble]

4280692 she got some wrong.