A Sailor's Notes

by Thunderblast

3. Detour

"What do you mean next week?"

"I mean, next-next week. I'll need for you to gather your ponies, give a briefing on the situation, and tell them to be prepared for a possible deployment. As for you as well, I'll need for you to remain on base."

"But, what about my family? They need to know I might be leaving. I can't not come home for fifteen days and them to expect me to be okay!"

The commanding officer gave a grumble, rubbing his temple with his hoof. "Fine, fine. You may go home, but you are expected to spend overtime every night until then, which means late nights for you."

"Yes, sir."

⚓

The big diner in town, known as the Salty Lion, maintained its typical mid-afternoon traffic. With school over for the day, the place began to seat hungry teenage ponies, mainly ones who skipped the sometimes-terrible school lunches. Me as well as a few of the other ponies I knew well gathered here just about every Tuesday. Four total, including myself.

The bigger colt, Azeruth, was popular in my school. Well, kind of. He flirted with fillies frequently, and sometimes they would flirt with him. The colt around my size, Vixen, was a mix of an athlete and a nerd—no, nerd is a bit rude to put it. Genius? Nah, he's had his dumb moments like everypony else. Over all, he had good grades, and after school he would jog up and down the hills.

Then there was Misty, a tough, also smart filly. She'd felt abandoned by many of the other girls at school because whenever they'd put a colt in her face, he'd usually come to class with a black eye, or some injury of that sort. I suppose that's why she hung out with us, and neither of us minded it either way. Ponies are ponies.

From the toughest colt to the girliest, bubbly filly, as long as we all had something to talk about that interested us, no one gave an eye. Not to mention, Azeruth came from a military family as well.

"So, Anchorage, did ya hear about—"

"The new destroyer? Yeah, I'm excited for that, one-hundred percent. Soon our little town will finally be known for somethin', am I right?"

Azeruth furrowed a brow. "Well, yeah, but that wasn't what I had in mind. Did ya father get any news lately?"

Gulping down a sip of soda and setting the bottle down, I shook my head. "Not that I know of. What kind of news?"

The grey pony briefly exchanged looks with Vixen, then returned his focus to me. "You may wanna ask him tonight."

I nodded. "Will do. He may not even know what the heck I'm asking about."

"Perhaps. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, we're used to him being gone by now. I can't exactly say it's tough."

Misty was the one to speak up next. "You mean, you don't worry about him when he's gone?"

"No, no, I never said that. Of course I worry, just not as much as before. I mean, Equestria hasn't been in any sort of conflict for a decade or two. Aside from that, it wasn't even that huge of one. The last real trouble we've gotten ourselves into was nearly a millennia ago. Or, at least, I think..."

"It's not like Equestria is a fully-pacifist nation, Anchorage. For all we know, we may be on the brink of conflict. It's just a matter of time before we're at war again. I know Princess Celestia doesn't enjoy that thought, but, sometimes it is the only thing to do unfortunately."

"So, what does that have to do with my dad?"

Misty grumbled, facehoofing gently. "Anchorage..."

"What? He's in the Navy, it's not like he'll get himself killed. The worst thing he has to be concerned about is severe weather." At least, I thought.

"Ask him yourself. You're misled."

"Whatever you say," I replied, taking a final swig of my drink.

⚓

Much of the evening was spent in my room, sketching like always. They were more of blank drawings than anything while I thought of something new to focus on. These were what I used to jump start new concepts. Something prevented that, however. Rather than ideas of what to draw next, thoughts of the afternoon tacked on. My father was still working, and yet there was no word from him regarding more overtime this week. Perhaps something was up.

My ear perked at a sudden slight pressure change in the room. Downstairs, creaking of the front door opening wide echoed throughout the hallway outside my bedroom. The pressure shifted again as the door shut, and I dropped the pencil in my hoof onto the desk, standing up and walking out into the hallway to the staircase, calling out, "Dad?" as I did so.

"Anchorage?" Replied my father, locking the door behind him. He glanced around the corner, up the staircase straight towards me. "Still awake?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Where have you been? Me and mom were worried."

Sea let out an exhausted sigh, beginning to undo the buttons on his uniform. "Had to stay on base late. Work stuff, is all. Where's your mother?"

"She's in bed," I answered, coming quietly down the steps. "I should be, too."

"Don't worry about it, Anchor. I have something to ask you, anyways."

Uh oh. "Yeah?"

Stepping closer, my father made direct eye contact. "Would ya like to come with me tomorrow to work?"

I blinked twice, eyes widening and ears perking slightly. "Would I?"

"Would you?"

"Yes!" I let out a rather un-colt-like squeal, then covered my mouth quickly.

"Shh, careful not to wake mom," Sea motioned his hoof, whispering. "Okay, I'll call in to your school first thing in the morning, then I'll take you."

"Wait a minute, I thought family and friends weren't allowed on base?"

"I'll make this an exception."

"How does that work?"

"I have my ways, Anchorage."

"I won't question that," I chuckled softly.

My father smiled, patting my shoulder. "Now, go get some sleep. We'll be up early."

I tilted my head slightly. "Earlier than when I get up for school?"

"Way earlier."

"Five AM?"

"0500."

"Right, right. Of course."

Sea smiled, kissing my forehead. "I love you, Anchorage. Sleep tight."

"I love you too, dad. I will," I smiled back. "Goodnight."

⚓

In the blink of an eye—well, much more like, closing my eyelids—morning had come. A knock on the door jolted me awake, followed by the slightly audible call of my father from outside.

"Up and at 'em, Anchor. Get in the shower and get dressed."

After he'd gone, I let out a soft, tired groan, glancing to the window to the right of my bed. The sun wasn't nearly close to rising yet. Then again, it was five in the morning.

Reluctantly, my body lifted itself out of bed, while gravity fought to take dominance and make me fall back asleep again. A shower would certainly help, assuming the hot water wasn't used up. I opened the door, trudging across the hallway and into the nautical-decorated bathroom. Switching on the lights, my eyes burned and ached as it echoed off of the bright blue walls—at least it wasn't bright green.

Starting the shower, I hopped in almost immediately, disregarding the temperature as I worked to get clean as quickly as possible to avoid keeping my father behind. Reaching for a bottle and soaking my mane beneath the semi-warm water, I squirted just a slight bit of shampoo into my hoof, rubbing it through while rinsing it out as the water continued to warm gradually. Next came scrubbing my body and wings thoroughly. Surely, I would have to look decent enough to be on base, too.

Once the last of the suds flowed down off of my hooves and into the drain, I turned off the water and reached for a towel just beyond the shower curtain, pulling it in to dry off. In the process, the cloth had left my mane even messier than when I'd woken up. Dang towels...

I pulled the curtain to the side and stepped out of the shower carefully, towel over my back. The first thing I grabbed was a mane brush to set it down to at least a non-messy appearance. Next came my toothbrush, and following a slight struggle with the toothpaste, I brushed and brushed until the awful morning breath had gone.

Before I could return to my room to find something warm to wear, I checked over my feathers to straighten a few of them out, then re-brushed my mane. When I finished, I crossed the hall once more, dropping the now-dirty towel in a laundry basket and opening the small closet in my bedroom.

Despite it being considerably small, not many clothes were hung up in the closet, aside from some different pullover hoodies, a jacket, and a blue flannel shirt. The next question was, what to wear?

...

Flannel shirt. The last time I wore it was at least a few months ago. It should still fit, considering my growth spurt stopped the year before. Added to that, knowing local weather like the back of my hoof, the temperature had to be in the forties at the highest. Yes, this would definitely do to keep me warm.

Once dressed, I trotted quietly down the staircase to meet up with my father, whom prepared a quick breakfast for the two of us. He was readily fully dressed and already eating. He patted the stool beside him, where I took a seat.

After swallowing, he said, "I'm surprised you're not sluggish. This is way early for you. Sleep well?"

"I slept alright. Could have been better," I replied, taking a bite of a juicy apple.

"Well, that's the life of a sailor, my boy. I'm afraid it's what you'll have to put up with."

Wait, wait, wait. Did he just say, it's what I'll have to put up with? How... does he even know? I don't even know! What is there to know?!

Oh, right. Being a sailor like him.

"I see," I replied, scarfing down the rest of the fruit. "How long does it take for you to get there?"

"How long does it take to get to base? About twenty minutes, thirty with poor weather. Flying is much quicker, but your wings get cold pretty quickly. We're lucky today."

Twenty minutes. Perfect. Early start to the day, already being pushed to walk a good distance to and from, whenever we would come back that evening. He was right, though. Flying there would possibly end up in an injury or two.

Finishing up our breakfast, my father grabbed his duffel bag and led out through the door, thus beginning the long walk. The chill hit my body like an oncoming train, and I shivered heavily. It wasn't long, however, before I adjusted to the cold. After all, this was my kind of weather, and my father's, too.

The cobble road took us through a dark, thick pine forest outside of town, the only road leading to the port. By far, the biggest fear moving through here was bears, although, the two of us could just fly up to avoid them. That we could do.

Reaching the top of yet another hill, down below and over top the trees, a faint white halo glowed. It had to be the naval station, as nothing else was out here apart from one or two log cabins.

Eventually, the two of us approached the main gate of the base, where a single sailor sat in a small booth, dressed like an eskimo pony and still shaking terribly. The poor pony must have been new to the area. He caught sight of us, stepping out of the booth. Around his neck hung some sort of rifle that reflected the tiny structure's exterior spotlight. Seeing that made me extremely uneasy for the first few seconds and made my motions freeze temporarily.

"Identification?" The guard asked, taking a look at my father's card when he handed it over. With a nod, the pony returned the card, shifting his focus to me. "Identification?"

Again, I froze. "I... don't have one."

"Then you're not permitted to be on b—"

"Don't worry, sir, he's with me," Sea cut in.

"He isn't Navy personnel. He can't be allowed on base," the guard kept a stoic look toward the both of us.

"He plans to be, isn't that right, Anchorage?"

Glancing to my dad, then back to the guard, I nodded. "I'm working with him for the day."

The guard gave us suspicious looks, then nodded. "Alright, fine, head on in."

"Thank you," Sea nodded once.

"Yes, thank you," I said as well, following my father inside. Deep down, I was extremely nervous. This was against regulations.

Beyond the gate was more forest, although, we were past the perimeter fence and technically on-base now. Far past the dark sea of pine, more lights faintly shined. I walked just to the left of my dad, looking around us at the total darkness as we approached.

Reaching the edge of the forest, my eyes opened wide in awe. All around were numerous structures of similar design, but different size. Many of which were two-story apartment-like buildings with the hallways on the outer walls.

"Those, over there," my father pointed at the buildings. "Those are the barracks. Two each per room, though if needed, the base commander will add bunks to house four per."

"What are they like inside?" I asked, eying one of the structures.

"They're quite like dorm rooms. Small, compact, but they've got everything a pony needs. Bed, shower, and a kitchen area. But, I'll be honest, Anchorage, hardly anypony uses the kitchen. There's on-base amenities to keep everyone fed and entertained," he explained, continuing down the center path.

"Sailors are put into them after boot camp to make room for new trainees. Although, we really don't have too much of a training facility. Much of that is in Manehattan. It has to do mainly with zoning and what not. After all, the island isn't that big." Sea chuckled.

"Huh. So, once you graduate and are assigned bases, or what ever that process is, they just put you in one of those?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sea nodded. "Now, the flag pole is right up here, too."

Looking forward, about twenty feet away, stood an extremely tall steel pole. On top, the Equestrian flag waved proudly in the ocean's wind. It appeared to be a gentle wind, only due to the fact that the flag was much more massive than it appeared from a distance.

To my side, my father stopped, observing the flag. I halted as well, too staring upward. The blue rectangle piece of cloth, printed with the figure of our dear Princess Celestia that ruled the country, between the sun and moon grasped in her magical aura.

"Moving on..." My father said, continuing down the central path, where around the flag branched off other paths to different sectors of the base. "The Command and Control Center is ahead of us, as well as the offices that are part of the complex, which is also where I work," he gently nudged my shoulder, and I chuckled.

"And the shipyard is behind the offices, right?"

"Exactly," Sea smiled warmly, donning his cap which just barely held onto his head due to the breeze picking up.

As we approached the small complex, one thought came to mind. I might as well ask while we're here.

"Hey, Dad, where are the Naval Games taking place?"

"Well, they're just being set up. I'd like to show you, but, unfortunately, the area doesn't have any lighting just yet. So, we'll have to wait until lunch. How does that sound?" he replied, stepping up to the door of one of the office buildings.

"Sounds like fun," I smiled, following him inside.

⚓

"And this, Anchorage, is my office," Sea said, trotting in and flipping the light switch on. With a couple of flickers, the room lit up nice and brightly, reflecting off of the window opposite of the door. Suddenly, he said. "Oh, hey, they brought it in!"

Inside wasn't too large. It wasn't big at all, really. Just a generic office room, scarcely decorated with anything but a couple of potted plants and mainly filing cabinets, with a couple of picture frames here and there. On Sea's desk sat a coffee mug with pens and pencils sticking out, a pencil sharpener, a small dark-brown wooden picture frame facing the chair, and finally, an all-white box computer, the tower beneath the desk. That's what intrigued me the most, considering computers were extremely rare and mainly used within the military. Most ponies didn't see the need for them, although they did make work spaces more tidy. This was likely what he meant by brought it in.

"So, what do you think?" He smirked slightly, bringing a chair around to his side of the desk, then sliding into his own.

"It's... well," I looked around. My thoughts were ones he'd likely not be happy to hear, so it took a few moments to put together what I wanted to say.

"It could use a couple more picture frames."

My father shrugged. "I'll look into it. Chances are I won't be able to. What I've got in here is already pushing the line," he said, tapping a square object connected to the computer's monitor, and the screen sprung to life.

"You mean, they don't let you have belongings in your offices?" Sitting down, that kind of shocked me. Looking forward, the picture frame sitting on the desk was of me, my father, and my mother. It was definitely an older one, because I'm surely not that small now!

"Nah, not usually. It is an office, after all. Why decorate them when you can feel like you're in a prison instead?"

"What?" I glanced at him, blinking.

"No-nothing," he stuttered, beginning to type on the keyboard.

I then proceeded to watch him type away on the computer, shifting my focus between the keyboard and the monitor. My head tilted.

"How are you able to type so precisely?"

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't look that easy to type with hooves."

"If you use the tips, you will turn out just fine. Although, yeah, the keys are pretty small. But using my wings isn't that comfortable, either."

Shrugging it off, I relaxed back into the chair, once again peering at my surroundings, to the picture frames on the walls. One encased a silver medal of some sort, the other, an aerial picture of a destroyer at sea. At some point, I would have to ask about that medal. Surely it meant something.

What crossed my mind afterwards was, did he actually want me to work with him? Why isn't he having me doing anything yet? Perhaps he was looking forward to it, albeit the computer changed his mind. Then again, if it was so new, how was he so good at using it? Too many questions, he's working, I won't bother him.

"Hey, uh, Dad?"

"Yes, Anchorage?"

"Is there..." I cleared my throat. "Anything you'd like for me to do?"

"Such as?"

"I dunno, file papers, fetch something from the cabinets, water the plants... anything?"

"Er... No, not right now. Thank you, though," he said, not once moving his eyes from the monitor.

Once again, I fell silent, fiddling with my hooves and unsure of what to do. It wasn't like I could go and walk around, unless I truly wanted to get arrested. Being on base alone was against regulations, at least, I believed they were. Maybe only to certain points. Either way, boredom was beginning to quickly set in.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you want me to do?"

"Well, hmm..." I listened closely as Sea turned to glance at me. "I was going to have you run these reports down the hallway for me, but, I don't want you going anywhere without me. So, for the moment, nope."

Sighing, I nodded. "Okay, Dad."

⚓

Finally, the sun gradually rose above the horizon outside the window, shedding light over the area. For once, I could actually see what was outside, even though the majority of the view was blocked by another building. Past that, however, one of the docks as well as the ocean were visible. With the sunrise, the water reflected the pinkish-orange glow that painted the sky and making for a postcard-worthy photo, if I had a camera.

A small clock on my father's desk ticked away, bringing my attention to it. The hands read two-past-seven. It felt like an eternity, though we'd only stepped on-base a little over two hours ago. This would most certainly turn out to be a very long day.

All of a sudden, the bell of a telephone I didn't even know was there chimed to life, jolting me from the trance of boredom. My father reached over, picking up the receiver. "Gander Cove Naval Station, this is Sea Current," he spoke, staring forward.

I turned to him, blinking twice. The pony on the other end sounded panicked from what I could make out.

"Miss, this is the Naval Station. If there is a maritime emergency, you want to call the Coast Guard. They provide rescue services to vessels. Their number is in the phone book. Have a nice day."

With that, he hung up. I continued to stare with minor confusion.

"What was that all about?"

My father relaxed into his chair, stretching his hooves. "Whenever something happens, ponies seem to forget that the Navy isn't the Coast Guard. It gets annoying sometimes."

"Aaaand... you tell them to call the Coast Guard instead?" I furrowed an eyebrow.

"That's all I can do. Navy personnel aren't authorized to contact the Coast Guard unless it involves our own situation. That's how it is."

"Well, if that's how things go, then I don't see much of a problem," I shrugged, relaxing myself. "But now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'd love to help out any way I can. I just don't know how."

"Well, I did—"

"You wanted me to run some reports to someone's office, yeah."

"I'll take them myself in a bit, but I want for you to come with me. If anyone walked in and saw you sitting here, they wouldn't be happy."

"That... reminds me, Dad."

"Hm?"

"Are we breaking any rules? Like, rules about non-Navy members being on base?"

"Not exactly. You see, well, hmm..." He paused. "It's difficult to explain. It isn't normal. That being said, technically, you are fine if you're working with me."

"But I'm not."

"Anchorage, I don't really know what there is for you to help out with. I didn't have a clue that they would get the computers in here so quickly, otherwise I'd be having you read things to me while I write others. I'm sorry," Sea turned back to his computer, sighing.

Now, feelings were setting in. I knew it wasn't his fault since he didn't know how the day would go, either.

"I'm just happy to be here with you, Dad."

He began to crack a small smile, turning to look at me once more. "I'm happy you're here, too, Anchor."