The Conversion Bureau: Setting Things Right

by kildeez

First published 7th of March, 2014

When a portal to another world appears outside Canterlot, the ponies' initial reaction is of enthusiasm, hoping to greet these strange aliens with open hooves. Too bad this world was already visited by another Equestria...

The Earth is still reeling from the effects of the Collision Wars against Xenolestia and her hordes of Newfoals, humanity having emerged victorious but a few million citizens fewer. Then yet another Equestria appears, but this time the humans are quick to cut off the head of the snake, capturing the evil Princess Celestia and imprisoning her. But something seems different about this Celestia...something almost friendly.

Can the Harmony and Friendship that Celestia has treasured all her life heal some of the scars left by her wicked counterpart, or do some wounds just run too deep?

Cover modified with permission from: KP-Shadowsquirrel

Also, because people have been asking for it, the original WW2 poster can be found here

Pre reading done by DJK. So go give him some wuv.

Chapter I: Old Wounds

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0945 HOURS
UNITED NATIONS COMBINED DEFENSE INITIATIVE: WESTERN EUROPEAN REGIONAL HEADQUARTERS
LONDON, ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM
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As the American liaison to the UNCDI regional headquarters for all of Western Europe, one would think David Preston's life would be a little more exciting. Well, maybe that was a poor choice of words. He knew when he got the job he'd probably never get to use the firearms training provided to him by his dear old Uncle Sam, and that more likely than not, he would wind up sitting at a desk in a non-descript office building somewhere with a decent view of the Thames. And he'd been mostly right: if he leaned his chair back far enough and craned his neck a little, he could see the Thames flowing in the bay window at the end of the little row of cubicles he called home. Not only that, but if he did a one-eighty in his seat, he could see the Eagle’s Eye through the massive bay window on the front of the building, along with an eagle’s eye view of a couple piers sticking out into the Thames. So he got the view part right, at least. The thing was, he just thought there'd be more to do.

Oh sure, he'd been asked to do all the right things to maintain appearances for the good ol' U-S-of-A. He was still considered a diplomat, after all, even though the US embassy was technically a couple of blocks over. He'd gone to all the right parties, dressed in the fancy-ass threads that cost more than some people's mortgage payments back home, even got to say a few words to the press (all pre-scripted for him, of course), but that was it. That was the extent of his responsibilities! The parties and the statements to the press and the occasional appearance at Parliament or Buckingham Palace were the most work he ever got. Other than that, there was just sitting at his desk, googling his own name, practicing his dart-throwing skills with the target tacked to the south wall (the one with the eagle’s eye view), and this: standing at the urinal, trying desperately to tell his body it had to pee.

He grimaced as he zipped himself up and headed over to the sinks, the automatic sensor flushing the urinal, despite its water still being as clear as it had been when he'd walked in. Too much time on his hands: that was the problem. Not any of that "overactive bladder" shit the drug companies kept trying to make people believe they needed pills for. Just too much time sitting in his high-end office chair, staring at his computer, being perfectly aware of every one of his body's needs because there simply wasn't anything else going on to distract him. Oh sure, it was nice that the vast majority of the diplomat stuff was still handled back at the Embassy, but couldn't they throw something his way!? Surely, they didn't think he was too incompetent to handle an Excel spreadsheet!

Running the water and working up a good lather of suds, he thought back to the small two-bedroom house in Michigan he'd left for this job. It wasn't much, but it'd had enough space in the living room for both a decent-sized TV cabinet and an office desk with chair. The kitchen would never have been featured in Better Homes and Gardening either, but it had been everything he’d needed. A stove, a fridge, even a breakfast nook! Not much by anyone's standards all told, but more than enough for a bachelor straight out of college with a degree in world history. Sure, the apartment in Westminster was nice, and even came with a 62" plasma-screen TV that put the 32" analog he'd left in the States to shame, but there was something about owning your own land, having an entire building you could call "mine," that had always appealed to him, even if said building could comfortably fit in his new apartment.

Snapping back to reality, he looked down and realized he'd had the water running over his hands the entire time he'd been lost in thought. The lather was long gone, the skin on his hands now a deep red from the heat. Sighing, he pulled out some paper towel and used it to switch the faucet off. The heels of his well-polished Italian shoes tapping on the tiled floor, he waltzed back into the main office, where he and his fellow "diplomats" did all of their nothing. There were eight cubes in all, just sitting in the middle of the room. One each for the permanent member states of the new United Nations Security Council, including the UK for reasons that were beyond him. Not that he was complaining: Ms. Townshend, like everyone else in their little group, was young, perky, and if she didn’t mind him saying, not too bad on the eyes either. Not that he’d ever go after her, hell no! The scandal of two diplomats in a newly-formed global organization having romantic interests? The Chinese and the Russkies would have a field day! Hell, they might even pull their diplomats out, which would be a damn shame. Anton and Liu were two of the best drinking buddies he’d ever had.

As David walked out of the bathroom and turned the corner, he fully expected the usual setting to greet him as he walked back to his desk. Francis would have his feet kicked up, the heels carefully placed as far away from the German flag decal posted to one wall of his cubicle as he could manage. He would be arguing with Andre about some niggling thing, the Frenchman switching between French, German, and English with a fluidity to make David’s head spin, the passion in his voice such that a few blonde curls might drop over his sky-blue eyes.

Next to them would be lovely little Lisa Townshend (shit, alliteration? He should’ve been a writer). She’d be occupied with her smart phone, her fantastic legs folded to serve as a platform for her hands as they tapped away on her knees, her gaze only looking up to encourage the German and the Frenchman to “kiss and make up already,” a statement that would make both men turn to her and stammer hopelessly, their faces growing deeper and deeper shades of red as they talked and blubbered where mere minutes ago they had been switching between three languages with the kind of ease that only came with a lifetime of practice. Again, why she was here in the Brits’ own embassy was anyone’s guess, but he wasn’t gonna complain. If the Limeys wanted to pay a diplomat to serve on their own soil, then hey, good for her for landing the best job ever, and good for them for snagging a girl that looked like she belonged in a Revlon commercial, sans a few gallons of makeup.

Felipe would be typing away at his desk, trying his level best to ignore the arguing and smart-assed quips while working on whatever he thought would make his homeland proud. The poor thing: he probably believed he could do anything for his beloved Brazil from his forgotten little desk half a planet away. At least, that’s what everyone assumed. Nobody spoke Portuguese, so for all they knew the documents he spent hours quietly typing up could be spy reports on NATO military positions in Northern Europe. They probably weren't, but the way he worked on them you'd think they held the cure for cancer, only decipherable after a few dozen pages of Portuguese had been typed up, zipped up, and sent to his home in Brasilia.

Next came Anton, the senior member of the group, though he was barely out of his thirties. The Russian would have his tattered old Orioles baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, snoring away, his lips pursing out above the fuzz of his thick goatee with each exhale. That is, if he wasn’t heartily debating the virtues of Vodka against Sake with Liu, the Chinese diplomat who was almost as young as Felipe, yet had drunken each and every one of the group under the table at some point during their stay here. David had tried his level best to keep up with the kid at a few points, but in the end Anton was the only one who ever managed to remain conscious with him through an entire night. A fact that had immediately forged a deep camaraderie between the men only surpassed by soldiers in war.

That just left Akshat: the Sikh Indian who David could always – always - tell was coming in. Thanks to the angle he sat at and the wall divider that only served to cut off his view of the doorway, the tip of the Indian’s turban was just barely visible as he walked in, allowing the American to shoot a pre-emptive greeting Akshat’s way. Everyone else, meanwhile, was completely covered and only visible in the split second after they opened the door to walk in, and so received a generic "Morning" when he saw the plain oak door open and slowly shut. David probably could have gotten away with this little secret for a few more months, if it wasn’t for the day Andre came in a few minutes early and wound up walking in right next to his Indian counterpart. If David had just looked – if he’d just gotten off his lazy ass and prairie-dogged over the divider like every other office man on the face of the planet – he might have noticed the racial faux pas coming and been able to dodge. Instead he looked up, saw the upper knot of that turban bobbing up and down, and as was custom muttered “Hey, Akshat,” without even acknowledging the Frenchman.

Now that he thought about it, part of it was Andre’s fault too. If the guy had just shrugged his shoulders and trotted to his desk, the entire incident would have passed like any other day at the office. Instead, he just had to crack a grin and say something along the lines of: “What? No greeting for the froggy?” That inevitably led to a bit of back and forth which, in turn, led to David being forced to confess his little trick for knowing when the Indian was walking in ahead of time, and that led to David being accused of being a typical, racist-ass American by everyone present.

“But it’s true! He’s the only one you can see over my wall!” He’d cried defensively.

“You sure we towel-heads don’t just all look alike to you, you fucking prick!?” Akshat had cried, his teeth bared, his jaw clenched in rage.

“Okay, goddammit, before you go ripping on the big, evil American, why don’t we just let someone else see if I’m right?”

Either out of good luck or bad, Lisa had been out that day with the sniffles, and when she showed up to work bright and early the next morning, she found Dave in her usual spot. After he'd told her he just wanted to switch spots for the day to “mix things up,” she’d shrugged her shoulders and slumped into his desk, too exhausted from her still-visible cold symptoms to argue. Then, seeing her in the right position, Akshat and Andre had walked in, side-by-side, just as they had the day before. Her reaction, served while digging into the pockets of her suit jacket for another wad of tissues, was both the absolutely perfect and the absolutely worst possible thing she could have said:

“Oh, hey Akshat, did I miss anything?”

Akshat didn’t say much for a few weeks after that. It took a very nice chocolate cake emblazoned with the words “From the racist shitheads you put up with” in pink frosting letters for him to even start talking to them again, and even then it was another week before he started responding to Dave’s bored attempts at conversation.

Other than that bit of drama, life in the nondescript office building proceeded without any ceremony. It didn’t help that all the budget sunken into the building seemed to have gone to the cubicles, with a bit leftover for the bathrooms. The “lounge” consisted of a Coke machine and a few beat up chairs in one corner, and the walls were devoid of even that cheap wall art or those inspirational posters which lined the walls of every other office building in the northern hemisphere. Then you had the cubes: high-end office chairs, oak desks, and a top-of-the-line desktop with an Outlook account they never used, constantly whirring away next to a big red phone that never rang. The phone, in turn, had the name of their nation’s respective capitol printed on it in big, white lettering. Besides that, there was the bathrooms, the dartboard they had tacked up on the rear wall, and the view.

David fully expected to spend his few remaining hours of the day staring at his computer screen, the map of the world he used as his wallpaper staring back at him until it was seared into his retinas, his eyes occasionally drifting to the big, white “WASHINGTON” stenciled to the phone near his elbow. So imagine his surprise when he found his seven counterparts gathered in front of one screen, their eyes transfixed on the glowing image before them.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” He asked snidely, taking note that it was Akshat’s desk they were all gathered in front of, the Indian himself sitting in the one swivel chair there was room for. “Somebody post another cat video on…”

“SHH!” Lisa turned around just long enough to shush him, immediately turning back to the screen.

David arched an eyebrow at that. In the half-second he’d had to study Lisa’s features, he could have sworn he saw fear in her eyes. Not just fear like you might feel walking past that one darkened alleyway on your way home at the end of the day, either. This was the kind of terror you saw confronting an old, childhood fear, like the dog that but a few bite marks in your arm at age five or the tone your Dad used when he was a few whiskeys past caring about whether or not you went to school with a black eye. “Lisa,” he repeated, desperate to see her face again, just to confirm what he saw.

She turned on him, brow hunched in frustration. “What, David, what do you want!?” She barked. Her tone was impatient, but behind that was the same fear he thought had been there, and his stomach clenched at the sight.

“Oh my God, Lisa, what’s wrong?” He asked, his mind racing through a few of the things online that could have confident Miss Lisa Townshend so scared: a huge terrorist attack in Trafalgar Square, or an outbreak of Ebola in Shropshire. Or wait. Oh God, there was also that, but that was impossible! That couldn’t possibly happen again in…

“It’s happening again, David,” Anton grumbled, his voice like a four-by-four pickup going over loose gravel. “You’re not going to fucking believe this, but E-Day is happening again.”

David felt the tips of his fingers go cold as his fists clenched. The color drained from his face, and the cautious apprehension he’d felt on seeing Lisa’s expression threatened to explode into full-blown terror. “God, no…” he mumbled. “Where?”

"The North Sea! Just south of the Shetland coast!" Liu barked, waving his hand dismissively for the American to quiet down.

"The North Sea..." he trailed off. His legs quivered, and for a second he thought his knees would buckle and send him crashing to the linoleum, but by sheer luck and that old belief that fainting was unmanly, he managed to stay on his feet. His mind wondered back to the glowing map on his screen. He could point to the spot if he wanted to, but somewhere behind the panic and disbelief just starting to settle in his mind, he knew the most that would accomplish would be a nice, greasy fingerprint in the middle of his monitor. "Jesus H - that's in our backyard!"

“Who’s handling this?” Liu asked, tearing his eyes away from the screen long enough to look at the people around him. A bunch of blank stares answered him. “Well, c’mon! It’s on the news! Someone must be handling this!”

“They are,” Lisa again, except now she was back at her own desk, staring at a few open browser windows. Apparently, while the men had all remained staring at the single computer screen like a bunch of slack-jawed idiots, she had returned to her desk to actually ‘handle this.’

Behold: humanity’s best defense in Western Europe, tasked with keeping one of the most industrialized and heavily-populated regions on the planet from falling to the enemy, Dave mused with a grimace.

“The SAS has a platoon in the area on maneuvers,” she continued. “They’re diverting to the emergence zone now. ETA ten minutes.”

Anton was the first to finally shake off his shock and return to being the highly-paid professional they were all supposed to be. “That’s good, but we’re supposed to be monitoring the international response. We need the support of NATO, and we need the rest of the Security Council convening now.”

“I’ll…check on the American response,” David added, his voice shaky and timid, and he honestly couldn’t say if or when it would be cool or confident or even just normal again. “I’m sure we’ve got something in the North Atlantic we can send over.”

“Good, that’s good,” Anton grimaced, and David could swear there was a touch more gray in his beard than there had been that morning. “Monitoring is all we can do right now, at least until…”

No sooner did he say this when a loud, shrill noise filled the office. Every eye went to the big, red phone on the next desk over, labeled “BERLIN” as it buzzed again, the shrill chime acting as an alarm to announce an end to the slow, safe, boring world they had all come to know and love. Moving slowly, like a man ordering his own execution, Francis returned to his desk, picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. "Jawohl?" He asked, somehow keeping the nervous shaking that racked the rest of his body from entering his voice.

What followed could only be called an auditory bombardment, courtesy of some politician in the Bundstag back home. The fact that a few, encrypted satellite transmitters were capable of delivering such an absolute onslaught directly into the German's ear was a testament to modern technology. Through it all, Francis just kept nodding, eventually sinking into his chair with the look of shock on his face anyone gets when they've just seen a school shooting announced on the local news.

Then the ringing filled the air again. NEW DELHI this time, the little phone sitting in the middle of the impromptu gathering now sounding in everyone's ears. Akshat blanched white, his beard drooping to his chest as he slowly scooped up the receiver. A half-second later, LONDON joined in, then MOSCOW, WASHINGTON, BRASILIA...

The calls came in rapid-fire, people all over the world needing to know what other nations were doing, how they were doing it, did they need any extra manpower, were the Tachyon Inhibitors ready for a counterattack, and on, and on, and on. David finally snapped out of his trance with the others, turning on one heel and nearly tripping over his own feet to get moving. He had to resist the urge to throw Liu out of the way, the young diplomat nearly knocking him over in the rush to get back to his own desk. Then David rounded the corner, twisting himself to aim back towards his desk, once again almost tripping over a few chair legs before hitting his desk like an all-star baseball player sliding into home.

"Yes!?" He gasped, followed quickly by: "Yes sir...no sir...no, sir, so far there haven't been any incursions made by the anomaly...what was that?...yes sir, that would probably be..."

"Da, da, everyone!" Anton yelled over the clamor erupting in the office. "The Mudderland has a few fleets readying in the Karelian Peninsula! They should be at sea by the end of the day, along with the Finns! They’re gonna blockade Scandinavia!"

"We've got German reinforcements setting sail for Scotland!" Francis yelled. "They say the Spanish are right behind them!"

"Merde, the French are militarizing ze English Channel! They're letting immigrants and refugees over for now, but they're already stretched to ze limit! They might close the border!"

"We should setup a map...we gotta keep track of all this..." Lisa said absently, distracted with the entire council of ministers screaming into her earpiece.

"No time! The Brazilian President just asked if he should declare a state of emergency, and I have no idea what to tell him!" Felipe groaned.

"US Air Force units are in the air over Wales!" David screamed over the growing chaos, a finger plugged into one ear, the other wishing it was plugged against the screaming politician on the other end of the line. "Every single one of their bases in Europe is going on Full-Alert status, and I’ve got cross-chatter debating whether or not to shut down commercial flights over North America!"

"Jesus, it's the Collision Wars all over again!"

"Stay strong, people," Anton barked, somehow writing down orders from the Russian President at the same time, his free hand still cradling the phone. "This is what we're here for! This is the whole reason the UN trusted us with this job!"

"Hey, who the hell isn't answering their phone!? Dat ringing is driving me nuts!"

A loud thump punched through the room, shocking everything into stillness. Seven sets of eyes turned to the dartboard, where the gang spent many a drunken, merry old time "mocking the old bitch." Liu, the quiet little diplomat from China with the uncanny ability to swallow any kind of alcohol with hardly a buzz to show for it, grasped the dart where he had plunged it into the picture, tearing it out of the plaster so hard one of the thumbtacks holding the picture up popped out. Now, the picture sat askew on the wall, supported only by the dart pinning it in place, which in turn was supported by the diplomat’s ironclad grip. He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "Never again," he hissed, then he finally took a few steps back, looking at his handiwork. He surveyed the picture tacked up on the wall, the one covered in pockmarks from a thousand nights’ worth of drunken attempts at making the exact shot he’d just landed, then turned back to the group. "Never again."

The stunned quiet continued for only a few more minutes, and then Lisa nodded in agreement. "Never again."

"Never again," David heard himself say.

"Never again," Anton.

"Never again," Francis.

"Never again," Felipe.

"On my life and honor as a Frenchman, never again," Andre.

"Show-off dick," Francis muttered, and then everyone returned to their duties, Liu jogging back to his desk to gasp a few scattered apologies in Chinese to his phone. The office fell right back into the strange, organized chaos that would almost certainly be the norm from this point forward, all except for David, who stole a quick look over his shoulder at the picture tacked to the wall, now only held in place by the dart embedded into the wall. Princess Celestia's smiling visage greeted him, a picture downloaded off Deviantart in the days before the Collision Wars. Her one eye, once filled with that little sparkle it always seemed to have in the cartoon, now only filled with a few inches of metal from where his colleague had stabbed her. The background behind her sparkled a neat pink, as if she were charging up some pretty little spell on behalf of her pretty little ponies. Her mane drifted in some unseen wind, suspended by more of that whimsical magic which had seemed so pretty and wonderful just a few years ago, but now summoned a wave of mild nausea from the pit of the American’s stomach.

"Never again, you evil cunt," he hissed under his breath before hitting the button to respond to the next caller waiting in line.

Chapter II: Understanding

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1100 HOURS
FARMLAND OUTSIDE CANTERLOT CASTLE
CANTERLOT, EQUESTRIA
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Ask any soldier in the Royal Guard's garrison at Canterlot for a story, and odds are they'll come up with six right off the bat. From the reemergence of Discord to the changeling invasion, these guards were forced to confront more nightmares, demons, and talking toasters in a single day than most ponies might face in their lives. Whether this was a blessing or a burden to shoulder really depended on who you asked, but personally, Shining Armor always felt lucky to even be a Guard. Where else did somepony get the chance to defend his loved ones from evil, resurrected kings, love-sucking monsters, and love spells running amok (although that last one was more his sister's fault, a fact he was never going to let her live down)? So being named the Captain of every guardspony in Canterlot was just a huge bonus to him. He got to command more ponies, play a more active role in the defense of his nation, and hey, by the end of it all, maybe he'd have a few more stories for his foals when it was time to retire.

Or...even my grandfoals, if Cadence has her way and we start popping them out like no other. A shiver raced down his spine as he trotted along, and immediately the pony walking alongside him took notice.

"Big brother?" She asked, an eyebrow arched. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, uh..." he cracked a grin for her. "Just remembering...uh...something scary that crossed my mind the other day."

"Cadence on you about having foals again?" She asked with a sly half-smile, a wing flexing towards him predatorily.

Another shiver raced up his spine, this time making him shake so hard his armor clinked. "You girls know me way too well," he grumbled.

"Maybe that's because I'm your sister?" She replied with a cute little nuzzle to his chin. "C'mon: we don't want to keep the Princess waiting!"

The Guard Captain nodded and trotted to keep up with the little Alicorn, the pair galloping along the dirt path leading through the farmlands outside Canterlot, kicking up a decent amount of dust. Despite being within Canterlot's shadow, this little rural haven was still underdeveloped, partially out of a few nobles' reluctance to fund a public works project in someplace that didn't have easy access to five-star accommodations, but mostly from the local Earth Ponies' love of the feel of dirt under their hooves. Still, Shining Armor enjoyed the rustic charm of it all: the friendliness and openness of the ponies and the smell of fresh farm air could really appeal to a guy who had to spend most of his time in the frozen tundra of the North. Not that he could ever complain about his job as Prince of the Crystal Empire: he loved his wife dearly, and the work was hard but rewarding, but still, a guy started to miss the feeling of a warm breeze on a cool spring night after a while.

But I wouldn’t trade any of it for all the gold in the world, he thought, a smile cracking his muzzle.

"Shining?"

"Hmm?" He turned to his sister, the reassuring smile reappearing on his face. "What's up, Twi? Did I shiver again?"

"No, you just looked like you were thinking about something really nice," she replied. "Care to share what it was?"

"Oh," his cheeks flushed a deep, crimson red. "It's...nothing. Just nothing." His sister didn't need to know her big brother was such a sentimental sap, reflecting on how lucky he was to have a loving wife, an awesome job, and the best family anypony could wish for. She'd never let him live it down!

"Hmm - well, since I know you so well, let's see if I can guess it," the Princess stared him down, brows furrowing in that cute little way she'd done since childhood. A hoof went to her chin and she started hobbling along without missing a beat in her step. The recently-crowned prince started sweating, and not just from the heat building under his armor. He knew his sister, and he loved her dearly, but still, he sometimes wondered if some of those Alicorn powers might have added to her already-impressive analytical abilities. Did he think she had the ability to read thoughts now? No, that was ridiculous. But darned if she wasn't close.

"Hmm...I think..." she trailed off, and then her eyes lit up and she nodded satisfactorily. He gulped. If she seriously guessed this, he was calling for an exorcist and moving someplace where the scary, mind-reading sister could never find him. Acapulcolt, probably. Oh sweet Celestia if I just thought that then doesn't she know... "I think you were thinking about Cadence just now!"

He visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. "Close," he smiled. "You got a part of it, at least."

"Oh, Shiny," the mare tsked, shaking her head. "You really need to get your mind out of the gutter. I mean, how can a Princess be seen with somepony when he's thinking about that all the time?"

"What!?" He gasped, instantly straightening up. "I wasn't - that wasn't what I..."

He calmed down and snorted a few times once he saw the mischievous grin on her face. "You really shouldn't tease your older brother like that," he grumbled.

"Oh, but it's so much fun!" She laughed, galloping ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, slowpoke!”

He just smiled and upped his pace a tiny bit, the armor clattering like a set of pots and pans in a tumble dryer. He felt something warm and cozy blossom inside him every time she started acting like a little filly around him: like his little Twily again. Nopony was prouder of her ascension into royalty, of course, but sometimes it was nice to be reminded that the filly he grew up with was still in there.

Still clattering along, he sighed as he turned a corner and found her twirling in circles, wings spread out and face raised to the sky in victory. “YES! The winner, and still champion: Twilight Sparkle!” She gasped, letting her breath out in hot gasps to imitate a crowd’s cheer.

“Aww, you guys were havin’ a race?” Rainbow asked, appearing right next to the young Alicorn. Twilight let out a surprised, Fluttershy-esque squeal and leapt back a few paces.

“Well shoot, y’all should know better than to have any sorta physical contest without invitin’ us.” Applejack added, trotting right on the pegasus’s hooves.

“Ohhhh, and that means I missed the chance to referee again!” Pinkie sighed despondently as she skipped up to the rapidly-growing gathering.

“Aheh,” Twilight said, her cheeks turning bright red beneath the perfectly-tended locks of her mane. “How much of that did you girls see?”

“All of it, dahling,” Rarity said, trotting up to the violet mare and immediately running a hoof through her royal mane. “And I must say; you really should be treating these curls better! Not every mare is so lucky to be born with hair as malleable as yours. Think of somepony less fortunate, somepony stuck with one manestyle her entire life!”

“You’re making it sound like I’m flaunting a purse full of bits in front of somepony who sleeps in a cardboard box,” Twilight grumbled, allowing her friend to fret over the violet curls to her generous little heart’s content.

“She’s just complimenting your mane in her own special way, Twilight,” Fluttershy said in her usual, quiet little voice, completing the group as she brought up the rear. “It is a very nice style, even I can see that.”

Shining Armor just smiled and shook his head at the group’s behavior. Who knew such a varied bunch of mares could wind up being the ultimate paragons of harmony; a group whose bond was so strong that it represented the spirit of friendship itself, powerful enough to defend Equestria from tyrant gods and cleanse an evil as vile as Nightmare Moon. But, such was his life. The Elements of Harmony had to choose new Bearers to save Equestria from Nightmare Moon’s return, and his sister just happened to be one of them. On top of being a unicorn so talented she was chosen to be Celestia’s protégé. And the embodiment of the spirit of magic itself. And slated to become part of the ruling elite, meant to guide Equestria under her wise hoof alongside other immortals such as…

Wow. Throw in all the stuff he had going for him, and he had one crazy, bucking life! What was with his family and attracting so much insanity? Just standing there, he watched Pinkie pull a cupcake out of her mane and divide it amongst the rest of the group without any questions asked whatsoever! And he thought Discord’s rule was nuts!

Thankfully, before he could start getting really in-depth into the craziness that was his existence, a familiar silhouette fell on the ground before him. He smiled. He didn’t need to be a veteran of the Royal Guard to recognize that shape: just about everypony in Equestria knew the Princess's silhouette against her beloved sun. Reacting immediately, he sank to his knees, head bowed in submission, making sure to remain as quiet as a mouse in a pillow factory as he did. Then he waited to see how long it would take every other pony to follow suit. Turned out, the answer was “however long it takes Princess Celestia to land right in the middle of everypony so they could see her right in front of all their faces.”

“Princess!” The mares screamed, instantly bowing, their eyes on the ground, though Twilight did have time to hiss out the corner of her mouth: “Why didn’t you tell me you saw her coming!?”

To which Shining Armor could only reply: “Because it’s funnier this way.”

“My dearest, most loyal subjects: please rise,” Celestia said, that always-constant, never-condescending smile on her face, her eyes (well, the one that was visible beside her mane, at least) lit up with that sparkle of love and caring. Everypony obeyed, immediately looking up to the elder Alicorn expectantly, with the exception of Twilight, who somehow managed to shoot the dirtiest glare she could muster Shining Armor’s way in the split-second it took her to raise her head.

“Princess,” Shining Armor said, hoof rising in salute, his voice reeking all the authority of a military man. “Element Bearers retrieved, Former Captain of the Royal Guard and Crown Prince of the Crystal Empire Shining Armor, reporting for duty, ma’am!”

“You can drop the formalities, Captain,” Celestia replied, waving for him to relax. “As the mare who married you to your wife and attended your little sister’s coronation, I thought we were past that.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he replied, his shoulders dropping half a micron at her order to relax. “Old habits die hard, ma’am.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head with a tiny smile, the Princess of the Sun turned to the smaller Alicorn at her hooves. “And hello again, Twilight Sparkle. You look even more radiant than when last we met.”

“Heh…thank you, Princess,” Twilight replied, her eyes darting away bashfully. “Shall we…uh…get going?”

“But of course, Princess,” Celestia replied with a little wink Twilight’s way, making the younger mare flush an even deeper shade of red.

"Okay," Shining Armor sighed to himself, letting his breath out in a slow, drawn-out wheeze as he trailed behind the other mares. He patted the fetlock on one of his hind hooves, ensuring his dagger was still in place. He wondered what the Princess would say to him smuggling a weapon around at all times. She would probably frown upon it, saying something about entrusting others to uphold the virtues of Peace and Harmony, but that was just because she didn't understand. He was a former Guardstallion, trained to always be ready to retaliate no matter the situation. Part of that training involved drilling into his head that he needed a weapon on him at all times. It was why his wedding tux had a concealed pouch for a throwing dagger sewn on the inside of the left sleeve (not that he’d had the chance to use it: by the time he snapped out of his trance, that wicked Queen was charged up enough on his own love that any physical attack would have been suicide), it was why he'd had the ceremonial sword meant for the crown prince of the Crystal Empire sharpened and rebalanced to serve as an actual weapon, and it was why he now tightened the strap securing the holster to his hind leg before galloping to catch up with the rest of the group.

"Okay," he breathed again as he fell in step behind the mares, listening to them chat amicably for a while before falling into his own thoughts, his eyes glazing over as he reviewed the process for drawing the dagger: Breathe, relax, flick the clasp open with edge of hoof, draw it out with levitation, keeping blade down to prevent self-castration, because that's the last thing you need to do in a combat situation. And imagine Cadence finding out! Good sweet Celestia, 'Shiny! How are you gonna give me babies now!? You need to march back out there and find your balls again so we can...WHAT...

His highly-distracted thought process came to a screeching halt as he walked head-first into something smooth, yet firm and well-toned, bouncing off and landing on his haunches with a loud clamor. Coming to his senses, he blinked a few times until the little birdies flying around in his vision went away, and immediately his face dropped. Rainbow Dash stared back at him, her face visible just over her flank, her eyes wide with surprise.

Quick, say something to keep this from exploding into a marriage-destroying incident! His brain gasped.

"Uhh..." he stammered.

Nice one, retard.

Rainbow just shot him a cocky half-smile. "Dinner and a movie first, bub," she said.

"Wha-wha-wha-what!?" He gasped defensively, kicking up a massive cloud of dust in a frantic attempt to back as far away from her flank as he could. "I'm married!"

"As if that ever stopped a stallion," she laughed, her wings spreading out as she took to the air, swooping over the crowd of ponies that had stopped her in the first place. Shining blinked a few times and snickered to himself. He loved his wife more than any mare he'd ever know, and would rather slice off his own stallionhood than violate her trust, but if he wasn't married...

A sudden crack of lightning put a stopper in any lecherous thoughts, as if Faust herself were slapping him across the face and telling him to not even think about it. "Okay, almighty Faust, I got it," he mumbled fearfully, taking his place alongside the rest of the crowd admiring the sight: the very reason he had been asked to gather the Elements of Harmony. A strange, multicolored cloud boiled and flashed in front of them, occupying a good half of a cornfield and preventing Hayseed the farmhand from harvesting a good half of his produce (which was of much more concern to him than "whate'er magical nonsense those Canterlot city folk're up to now," as he so eloquently put it). The cloud raged like a thunderhead, little jets of smoke puffing off its surface as if it were just barely containing something inside, struggling to remain the same shape. Every now and again, a lightning bolt lashed out and cracked through the air, thunder booming off in the distance.

Yep. Looked like another story for the grandfoals brewing right here. Half of Canterlot had to be gathered in Hayseed’s field, just to watch this one weird cloud, and if something was weird enough to attract attention from the city that had seen the resurrection of Discord and the changeling invasion, you knew something had to be up. Even now, ponies streamed from the castle proper, stamping the firm dirt paths leading around the field into even more compact surfaces.

“I say,” Rarity muttered breathlessly, eyes transfixed on the spectacle. “I know Twilight briefed us on this, but it’s still something to see up close.”

“Have the royal mages made any progress on just what it is?” Twilight asked, and Shining noticed how she remained staring at the cloud the entire time, so shocked that she’d forgotten the royal courtesy of giving the Princess eye contact while talking to her.

She’ll probably give herself a heart attack worrying about it later, he mused as Celestia nodded sagely. “They have, and it’s why I’ve called you all here. I thought the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony should be witness to a truly historic moment in Equestrian history.”

The ponies, Shining included, all turned to the Princess, their eyes still wide in shock from the sight. She beamed warmly and fanned her wings out, giving her already-impressive appearance a boost into near-intimidating levels of size. “The royal mages have determined that this is a portal to another world, populated with beings of intelligence comparable to our own, and almost certainly possessing a level of civilization we might find familiar!”

The small group of ponies fell silent. A few onlookers who had noticed the Princess walking up (hard not to notice a six-foot tall, white, winged horse in a world of multicolored ponies) started murmuring to each other, mostly inane things like “An entire, alien world!?” or “What if they’re dangerous?”

Pinkie was the first to break the silence, of course. “WOOH!” She gasped, back-flipping into the air with an enthusiastic bounce. “An entire planet!? I’m gonna need to throw the mother of all welcome parties!”

“Oh…my…” Fluttershy whispered, shrinking behind her mane and shivering, her frozen eyes locked on the cloud.

“Well, so long as they’re gonna act all civilized…” Applejack muttered thoughtfully.

“…and they don’t try anything.” Rainbow Dash added with a defiant snort.

“What would creatures on another world consider beautiful?” Rarity mused in a surprising burst of philosophic thought. “Do they even have clothes and fashions?”

For the most part, Shining remained mute, his brow joining his sister’s in furrowing: his in concern and determination, hers in thought. As he checked the dagger on his hind leg for the hundredth time that day, Celestia noticed the look on her student’s face and took the moment of distraction her announcement had caused to lean in closer to the smaller Alicorn. “Twilight?” She asked. “I know that look. What’s on your mind?”

The lavender mare sighed and turned back to the cloud, another bolt of lightning cracking off its surface as she watched. “What if that one pony was right?” She asked quietly, keeping her voice low to avoid attention. “What if they’re dangerous?”

“Oh Twilght,” Celestia smiled and shook her head. “They may very well be. In fact, it’s quite likely they are dangerous.”

Twilight turned to her mentor, eyebrows raised. “That’s not very comforting.”

“I know, but look at it this way: what would you say is the most dangerous creature in the Everfree forest?” Celestia asked, a knowing glint growing her eye, as it did whenever she was about to lead Twilight right into a lesson.

“Well…probably a manticore,” Twilight replied with a confident nod.

“Now, if manticores are so dangerous, why don’t they eat ponies regularly? Why aren’t they freely roaming the streets of our cities and villages, just gobbling up anypony that crosses their path?”

“Because they would never get far, and they know it,” Twilight said with another confident nod, as if every assertion needed to be punctuated with a bob of her head. “If local unicorn magic wasn’t enough, just about every town has a trained militia or Royal Guard outpost for dealing with a wild animal incursion. And even unarmed, a pegasus attack from the air or an earth pony’s kick is nothing to sneeze at. The only reason manticores do eat the occasional pony is if that pony is alone or frightened and caught off-guard.”

“So knowing all this, knowing that a manticore is so easily fought off by a pony settlement that only the most isolated of communities ever see attacks, wouldn’t it be easy to say that ponies are far more dangerous than manticores?” Celestia asked innocently, a knowing smile lighting up her face.

Twilight’s confident grin dissolved, returning to an unsure look of shock. “Well…I…uh…”

Celestia arched an eyebrow, and Twilight sighed, resigning herself to the fact that the Princess had beaten her with her own logic. “Yes, Princess. It would be perfectly fair to say that ponies as a whole pose more of a threat than the manticores ever could.”

Celestia smiled brightly and nuzzled her student, glowing as Twilight returned the nuzzle. “Just because something’s dangerous doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be given a chance,” she whispered.

That sentence right there did it for Shining Armor. Despite his Princess’s reassurances, he realized he absolutely needed to be ready for anything to come tearing out of that cloud. A civilian might be able to “give something dangerous a chance,” but as a soldier, it was his duty to be prepared for the possibility that this chance wasn’t deserved. He reached out, a magical hue going to the dagger, intending to levitate it ever-so-subtly to his forehoof and hide it in his fur.

To his surprise, the weapon shook as he drew it from the holster. Grimacing, he focused a bit more magic into it, but the only result was a slightly faster, still shaky draw that ended with the weapon tumbling out of its place and embedding in the dirt. This time he clenched his teeth, focusing all his considerable power in getting that stupid dagger to do what he wanted. Instead, its hilt poked up out of the ground, the blade dragging through the mud before it leaned weakly against his foreleg, as if saying it was too tired and needed a rest.

“What the…” he mumbled.

“Hey, guys? Anypony else having trouble with their magic?” Twilight asked. The former Guardstallion looked up in surprise, watching his sister, the Element of Magic itself, trying to wrench a gate open. Eventually, she snorted in frustration and just bucked the thing open.

“Hmm,” the group watched as Rarity turned to a rock and attempted to make it hover, a simple little trick that even foals could do. They watched the rock as it glowed with her magic, shook a bit, and did absolutely nothing else.

“What in the world…Princess?” Twilight asked, turning to her mentor.

Eyebrows hunched in a rare display of concern, the Princess of Day turned to Rarity’s rock and focused all her incredible might into it. The rock promptly lifted off the ground and performed a few shaky orbits around her, nearly dropping back down several times. Panting with effort, the Princess dropped the thing again, sweat visible on her face from what obviously should have been a simple task.

“What is going on?” Twilight asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Celestia admitted.

An instant look of panic overwhelmed the younger Alicorn, her ears folding back, her jaw dropping, her pupils shrinking to little pinpricks. At that, Celestia let out a little chuckle, the kind you used when the ship was going down in shark-infested waters and you had to tell the captain about your impending doom while a four year old kid stood within earshot. “Bu-but I’m sure it’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m rather certain our magic will return soon, and we’ll greet this other world with…”

No sooner did the Princess speak when the cloud gave them new and unexpected gifts. Four metal canisters sailed out of it, clattering to the ground near the group just as the rest of the unicorns in the line started to notice the same magic drain affecting them as well. Immediately, Shining sprang into action, throwing himself in between the canisters and the seven mares.

“B-big brother?” Twilight asked fearfully. “Wha-what is it?”

“I have no idea,” he replied, his back arching in a battle-ready stance. He studied the objects, his piercing gaze scanning them for any threats. They were each dark-green, and covered in white lettering that looked familiar but remained indecipherable. Other than that, the only remarkable features on the canisters was a pair of handles sticking off their top, as if they were meant to be clenched in teeth, perhaps?

“I’m…sure it’s nothing to be worried about,” Celestia replied, her voice starting at a nervous quiver, then adopting its usual confidence as she talked. “Perhaps even a gift from the other side! Still, we should have our experts keep them quarantined until…”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before the canisters exploded. Light as bright as her sun at midday flashed in their eyes, followed by a bang that put the worst thunderstorms to shame. Shining dropped from his stance, totally stunned. He shook his head a few times and opened his eyes, not realizing he’d shut them. Darkness greeted him. For an instant, his mind flew into panic mode, fear of blindness nearly making him cry out. Then the training kicked in and he took a few breaths, letting each out slowly through his nose. His vision returned in time, as he’d hoped it would, though that didn’t stop him from letting out a sigh of relief when it did.

Something was standing over him. He could only make out a silhouette right then, but he could tell it had to be rather tall, maybe even taller than the Princess (not including the horn). His hearing returned a bit after his vision, and he heard voices from somewhere far off.

”Get bloody goin’! MOVE!”

“None of you little shits move a fuckin’ muscle! None of ya!”

“What’s the ruddin’ time!? We need to be movin’ now!”

“Princess secured!”

Princess! That last one made an icy knot of fear clench in the unicorn’s stomach. Focusing what little of his magic remained, he managed to force the rest of the darkness out of his vision. What he saw made his blood turn to ice in his veins. Celestia was being scooped up by a pair of…things. They stood on two legs like Diamond Dogs, but their arms were much shorter, and they wore strange clothes in patterns that reminded him of the trees back in the Everfree Forest. Their faces were totally alien, covered in more of the strangely-patterned cloth, with blank, pitch-dark eyes that bulged from their heads, right beneath shiny, smooth helmets made from some material he knew he’d never be able to place. They each wore black vests and carried strange, black sticks that they waved around threateningly, pointing them at anypony who so much as looked at them funny. Finally, they each had two patches on their arms. One was a pair of red crosses outlined in white on a sea of blue, red bands reaching out to the corners of the patch. The other was a light-blue patch with a sphere pictured on it, strange continents and shapes stitched into its surface.

He watched in horror as the creatures clamped a ring around Celestia’s horn, and she winced in pain, dropping into unconsciousness with a quiet gasp. A pair of them locked another ring around the Princess’s forelegs while another pair lifted her up onto their shoulders, carrying her back to the cloud. “No!” He gasped, starting towards the group, but the creature standing over him stamped its boot into the back of his head. The blackness returned immediately, his mind reeling as he watched the Princess, his sovereign to whom he had pledged his life, carried off by a pair of strange, alien creatures.

“NONE OF YOU LI’L FECKERS MOVE, Y’HEAR!?” One of the creatures barked. Still hovering on the brink of consciousness, Shining watched some other pony make a charge for the group carrying Celestia off, only for one of the creatures to turn its black stick on him in a single, fluid motion. The stick barked once or twice (it was hard to tell which echoes were real and which were in his head) and the pony instantly dropped, body skidding across the ground like a sack of potatoes dropped from a speeding cart. The crowd screamed in horror.

“Nobody follows! You gits follow, you die!” Another creature screamed as it backed away into the cloud, tactically sweeping the ponies with that terrible weapon.

“Princess…” Shining gasped as he laid there, his mind finally making the final plunge into unconsciousness. However, before unconsciousness claimed him entirely, he heard a few more words in the creatures’ strange, terrible accents; words he hoped were just figments of his own imagination.

”Hey, who the bloody ‘ell’s this?”

“I dunno, but you see the wings and horn? She’s royalty! Bag her like the other one!”

"Funny, I didn't know princesses came in normal pony size."

Author's Notes:

Unlike my other stories this one is gonna update somewhat more sporadically. Sorry :)

Chapter III: Turbulence

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1215 HOURS
30,000 FEET ABOVE SEA LEVEL
NORTH SEA, OFF THE COAST OF SCOTLAND
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The mushroom cloud bloomed like the fist of a vengeful god, terrible and foreboding even at this distance. Something inside it glowed with the heat of a thousand suns, a terrible energy being unleashed upon the unsuspecting world below. A deep rumble filled the air, humming with the explosion’s power. To David, it appeared as if the cloud was growing as slow as molasses, except he knew it had to be expanding at hundreds of miles an hour just for the motion he was seeing, punching into the sky at the speed of a rocket.

He wished he could tear his eyes away. He wished he could just turn around, close his eyes, and maybe even wake up from this nightmare. If only. As it stood, he couldn’t move a muscle, not even to crack that little kink developing in his upper back, he could only stand, transfixed by the incredible display of power before him. His eyelids seemed to be fused open as well, his pupils forever locked on the image blooming in his sight.

“God above…Christ alive…don’t tell me that’s her! Please, Jesus Christ almighty…” his radio garbled, clouding with static. David’s only response was to drop to his knees, a metallic clang coming from the ground as his legs hit. Somewhere nearby, someone started crying the Lord’s Prayer in between choked sobs, crying it out over and over again. Finally, as if a spell had been lifted, his eyes fell away from the massive, glowing column of smoke.

David fell to all fours, dry-heaving. The Dramamine in his bloodstream was the only thing keeping him from puking his guts out all over the flight deck. The water on the other side of the railing suddenly looked too glassy as it undulated beneath him, the world sliding in and out of focus as his mind reeled with each buck of the ship.

Just as something resembling coherent thought started to reappear in his mind, a deep whoosh sounded off to his right. He looked up, clutching his stomach as something burst out of the water and rocketed up into the sky, trailing smoke behind it. Then another whoosh and a splash, and another object punched up into the sky, and another, and another…

“This is it,” he gasped, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be sitting in his tiny living room again, a beer in one hand and a cheesy 90s action flick on his cheap television screen. That living room was so far away now, so very far away from the atomic detonations and the nuclear warheads sailing into the sky; but that’s where he wanted to be, as far as possible from this terror, from that mushroom cloud punching so high up that it might be destined to reach out and touch God, from the contrails of the missiles screaming into the air, and from the voices howling out his radio in panicked fright. This is how it all ends. Oh God, I’m sorry, this is it…this is it…this is…

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Dave jolted awake as the plane bumped in a spot of turbulence, a scream of terror lodged in his throat. His mind spun, but quickly settled when he remembered he was on an airplane in 2025, not…back there, back on that horrible day when the world changed forever, looking so much like it was going to end.

Something cold dribbled through his fingers, and he remembered the drink he’d made for himself before drifting off. “At least my arms didn’t spaz out or anything, thank God,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat from the glass off on his dress shirt.

Somewhere up ahead, the television screen glowed with flickering images, remote clenched firmly in the hands of David’s German counterpart. “A refugee crisis of unprecedented proportions,” a BBC newscaster announced, and on screen a massive column of people flowed into ferries waiting along the English Channel, just outside Dover, according to the caption along the bottom of the screen. Each of these people wore the worried, downtrodden look of the refugee as they packed themselves in tighter and tighter, trying to cram as many people on board each ship before they could set out. “Thousands of Britons fleeing the isles into France upon the emergence of a new Equestria! That’s right, you heard it here, a new-”

The screen flickered, Francis switching the channel to ABC, where a man with far too much hair gel picked right up where his British counterpart had left off from the safety of his broadcaster’s desk. “…and this with the reappearance of the asteroid Ceres V has some groups claiming this to be a sign of the end of…”

Another flicker, another channel, another announcer with fantastic cheekbones and enough botox in their face to kill an elephant. “…sources have confirmed that the anomaly is, in fact, yet another Equestria! The UN is already rushing a bill through to aid the beleaguered French and British as they prepare for what could be a repeat of the attack on-”

Another flicker. “…despite the panic gripping the British countryside, these men just south of Glasgow have decided to ride out the crisis in a local pub!”

For some reason, the screen dwelt on this one, the controller’s finger hovering over the power button. The view turned to a large man with a pint of Guinness in one hand and a Red Sox baseball cap perched high on his head. When he opened his mouth, it revealed his heavy Scottish accent, the massive gaps in his smile (a true testament to countryside dentistry, for sure) and his opinions on the apparent reemergence of one of the greatest threats mankind had ever faced: “I jus’ wanna git one thing straight, lads: this is oor home, and no pastel-colored freaks’re gonna fook it up! They wanna try, let ‘em! We’ll kill ‘em all!”

This announcement was met with whoops and hollers from behind him as the camera zoomed out to reveal two more things: 1) The man was in a pub of sorts, the kind of place in the countryside where Guinness was always on tap and where the picture of the owner looked like it’d been hanging there since Thatcher was Prime Minister, and 2) The man wasn’t wearing a shirt, a fact made all the more obvious by the suds clinging to his sparse, blonde chest hair as he immediately set to chugging the ale clenched in his hand.

“It’s not going to be anything else, you know,” Andre mused, his legs crossed in his seat as he leafed through a copy of TIME magazine, not even bothering to look up.

“Ja, I know,” Franz sighed as he flicked the plasma screen off. “Still, it’s nice to remind myself that there are people out there with far less intelligence than me.”

“Careful, Franny,” Dave said, the scotch sloshing about in his hand. “That’s the same line of thinking that gave us Cops and Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo.”

“Plus, those guys are staying on land at least,” Lisa was quick to point out. “We’re the ones flying straight at the damn thing. How much smarter can we be?”

Dave snickered and brought the drink to his lips, starting to tilt it down, but then he lowered it back to the armrest. For some reason, the thought of this next drink joining the three beers and the rum and coke already sitting in his stomach sent a jet of acid oozing up his throat.

The plane bumped in yet another air current, sending another surge of acid up from his stomach. At least he was faring better than Akshat. The poor guy had locked himself in the bathroom a few minutes after takeoff and hadn’t emerged since, only replying with a ragged “Yes” whenever Lisa knocked on the door to see if he was still breathing.

It’s not like they’d had a choice in the matter, though. After less than an hour of being screamed at by politicians and bureaucrats alike through their big, red phones, a convoy of limousines and police cars had shown up in front of their building and a few dozen men in suits and sunglasses had filed into the office, bundling the group into the limos and rushing them to Heathrow, right up to a private jet waiting on the tarmac. Dave could remember the crowded terminal building as they shot past, the limo’s engine straining to pull them along at top speed. All those faces, filled with fear as they waited for a plane going somewhere, anywhere but England, anywhere but the place that might soon be a large crater on the surface of the Earth…

“Some guys just can’t handle their own stomachs, eh?” Liu mused, raising his fifth rum and coke in the air before downing it in a single gulp.

“Yeah,” Dave replied nervously, swallowing his bile and forcing a smile to his face, even as his stomach did backflips in his body. He managed to choke down another sip of scotch, mostly to keep anyone from wondering why the infamous David Preston suddenly couldn’t handle his liquor, because the most obvious answer to that question would be right on the money: because he was scared shitless. They all were, probably. The way Andre’s hands shook with every bump in the ride, a shake he unsuccessfully tried to disguise by turning to a new page in his magazine. The way Francis kept fondling the damned remote like a baby hunting for a special spot on its security blanket. The way Felipe kept typing away at his laptop, occasionally hammering the backspace down so hard the whole plane could hear it click. They all had their little idiosyncrasies, and not a single one of them had the guts to bring it up with anyone else, as if they were afraid that simply talking about their fears might make the bitch herself appear in the cabin, eyes blazing with xenophobic hatred and vials of that cursed serum in her magical grasp.

David took another swig of his drink, and this time he didn’t find it so hard to swallow.

“So, do you remember?” Liu asked suddenly.

Dave whipped his head around in surprise, as if he’d momentarily forgotten there were other people on the plane with him. Which, judging from the alcohol sloshing into his bloodstream, might not have been too far from the truth. “Re-remember what?” He stammered, immediately promising himself to ease up on the sauce until he at least had solid ground beneath his feet again.

“What do you think I mean?” The younger man replied, punctuating his sentence with a sip from his drink. “When Equestria first popped up, what were you doing?”

The American only needed a half-second to come up with the exact answer. Something like that was burnt into his mind, like the fact that he had been pulling his assignment book out of his backpack and trying to remember whether or not he’d done his math homework that one fateful Tuesday morning in September, or how his grandfather could recall weeding the small window garden they’d had in the old house, just starting to search through the tomato plants for any hidden trespassers when his brother had come running outside, bare feet smacking against the pavement, screaming over and over again that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor.

He had been seated in the library at the U of M, head in his hands, trying to commit Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion to memory. He could still see the picture on that specific page as clear as day, but for the life of him, the laws themselves still eluded him. Funny how that worked: everything else about that moment from the cheap, plastic wood grain of the table to the musty smell of the books lining the shelves around him still rang clear in his mind, but the laws which would have actually helped him pass the midterm he’d had coming up were still as murky and questionable as the water in the Detroit River.

He had been maybe a couple hours into his study session, and was seriously considering just tossing the book off the table, bolting for the door, hopping on the 5:15 to Cincinnati, and becoming a hobo for the rest of his life when he’d heard a few hushed whispers from the librarian’s desk. The librarian, a stereotypically mousy woman in her early forties who only needed a little chain to hang her glasses on to complete her ensemble, was loudly chatting with a student about something nearly-indecipherable, something about “cartoons” and “make-believe” and “can’t fucking believe it.”

Considering this was the first time in his life David had heard the small mouse of a woman utter a phrase worse than “Oh, shoot,” his curiosity piqued instantly. Not wanting to alert her to his eavesdropping, he had simply whipped out his smartphone and hopped on the local WXYZ station’s website, hoping whatever had made the bashful librarian swear for the first time in his memory had been newsworthy enough for the 5:00 local report.

The screen on the little phone had loaded up the site. David had blinked, then his jaw had dropped. “No fucking way,” he had reported, voicing his agreement with the librarian’s assessment.

There, splashed across the main page, just below the red bar announcing “BREAKING NEWS: More on the situation developing in East China Sea,” was a picture of six characters from a certain TV show for little girls, all in the same pose they showed on their entry in Netflix, with the six gathered together for an apparent photograph. Six ponies, all waving and winking for the camera, in a stock photo almost certainly downloaded right off the Internet in a rush. That, of course, wasn’t the incredible part. Rather it was the headline along the side of the page, in big, black, all-capital text: “LAND OF PONIES REAL!” with the subhead “Mysterious anomaly appearing in the Pacific Ocean, apparently populated by characters from the popular children’s TV show ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic’.”

Slipping out of the memory, he tried to condense everything about that moment into words, tried to capture all the emotion and disbelief and impossibility of seeing a talking cartoon horse princess on the six-o-clock news, standing next to Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon, both with massive smiles on their faces in an apparent show of friendship and understanding, as was expected of the Equestrians. Of course, those days would soon end, settling into general fear and disbelief as things went south and culminated in a few more “flashbulb” moments in David’s life, moments he would probably remember until the day he died.

Eventually, he realized there was no conveying that emotion. Not in a conversation being held over scotch at 30,000 feet over the North Sea. So he sighed, crossed his legs, and turned to his companion. “I was studying for a physics exam when I overheard the librarian cuss like a sailor.”

Liu nodded, copying David’s motion with his legs and peering into his drink with a little sigh of his own. “I was just getting ready for bed when the tsunami warning sirens started up. A lot of people don’t remember that of those first few days: the tidal waves you’d get from just plopping an island in the middle of the ocean, but I remember just fine. Of course, there was plenty of horror afterwards for everybody else to remember, so I guess it balanced out.”

David sat up. “Liu, my man, that was surprisingly deep,” he said, honestly surprised.

“Not bad for a drunk Chinaman, eh?” Liu grinned and tilted his head back, downing a few more sips of his drink. The grin didn’t last long, though, fading with another soft sigh and a sad glance to David. “I had a great aunt in Shanghai. When the Barrier hit, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Really. She was just too stubborn to leave when the evacuation orders came down,” he sat up in his seat and twisted the corners of his mouth downwards in an imitation of an old lady’s scowl, then he faced Dave and said in a high-pitched, aged, warbling voice: “’There has been a member of the family in Shanghai since this city was built, and there will be a member of the family here when this city is destroyed.’ That’s what she said to my mom when she tried to get her to join the rest of us in Xian.

“And you know what?” The grin returned, though much weaker and more resigned than it had been before. “She was right. She was absolutely right. Thanks to her, there was a member of the family in Shanghai, right until the last moment.”

David nodded, his brows hunched in thought. Unsure of what else to do, he raised his glass and smiled to his companion. “To great-auntie Liu,” he announced.

The Chinese man smiled, raising his drink alongside David’s. “To great-aunt-”

He never got to finish the toast as the entire plane shuddered and wrenched violently to the right in a sharp turn, the floor tilting at an insane 30-degree angle.

“Jesus!” David gasped, his drink clattering to the floor as he gripped his armrest. The rest of the group threw in their own swears and exclamations in their native languages, the cabin filling with the clatter of foreign words and discarded objects being turned into missiles, each member of the team throwing their nation’s own special blend of vulgarity into the mix. Except for Akshat, who simply let loose with another wretch from the bathroom. When it was over, everyone who hadn’t gripped their seat for dear life was on the floor, desperately scrambling for a handhold.

“What the…” Lisa gasped in surprise, picking herself off the floor as the surprise quickly morphed into rage. “Who the bloody hell’s piloting us!? Lemmy fuckin’ Killmeister!?”

The intercom blinked on, and the cabin fell silent, as if it were the word of God speaking to them. “Folks, we apologize for that rough patch we hit back there,” the pilot announced as one of the men in a pressed suit and sunglasses strode out of the cockpit and stood at the front of the cabin, hands folded in front of his body in that way every government man seemed to have practiced to an art. “We just got orders for a rapid diversion to an airstrip on Shetland, the gentleman in the suit will explain.”

“He damn well better,” Lisa muttered, sinking back into her seat with her arms folded across her chest as she glared at the man.

The man in the suit nodded towards her in a rare act of acknowledgement, then raised his head to address the entire cabin. “We will be catching a helicopter from the airstrip on Shetland, which will take us to the HMS Illustrious, bound for Norway.”

“Wait, what!?” Dave stood up, his shoes squishing in the scotch-soaked carpeting beneath him. “Why aren’t we going to the Emergence Zone!?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information at this time, sir,” the man replied, also in that tone G-men practiced as much as the businesslike hand-fold.

“No, of course you can’t,” he sighed, sinking back into his seat.

“You will be briefed after the helicopter lands aboard the Illustrious,” the man in the suit said, stepping back into the cockpit. “That is all.”

“Typical,” Liu muttered, rising from his seat and heading towards the bar, stepping past the bathrooms where Akshat gave another violent wretch while he passed by. “Ta ma de typical.”

“You said it,” David grumbled as the cabin settled right back into business as usual. He was just starting to consider grabbing a fresh glass from the bar (Merlot this time, perhaps) when he noticed Anton’s flask lying on the carpet. An eyebrow cocked, he picked the tiny container up and held it out to the Russian.

Anton, for his part, had been oddly quiet since their rapid takeoff from Heathrow, nursing a pearl flask from his jacket pocket. David knew better than to interrupt a man when they were thinking through things this big, especially things that could mean the end of human civilization as they all knew it. So they had sat in their large, padded seats, David occasionally joining in with the others’ attempts at staying in good humor and Anton lost in his own little world. Still, a part of him wished he could see just what the cogs and wheels behind the Russian’s eyes were really turning around. Anton might not have been any more than a decade older than any of them, but he was still the most experienced, the de facto leader when shit hit the fan.

Even with the flask practically in front of his face, Anton kept staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed, both hands gripping the armrests as if they were still in the middle of that violent turn, his knuckles turning white with effort and blending in with the pleather. David had to clear his throat for attention.

“Hm? Oh,” Anton whipped the flask out of David’s hand and stored it in his pocket in a single, fluid motion. “Thanks.”

Figuring this was his best time to ask, the American prodded his Russian counterpart. “What’re you thinking about so hard, anyway?”

There was a brief moment when he thought Anton must not have heard him, but then the Russian turned and tilted his head up into David’s face, smiling tiredly. He looked so old right then, as if just the effort of looking up into the younger (but not that much younger) man’s eyes had added a couple decades to his life. “Just things, my little Amerikanets, just things.”

“Ah,” David said, nodding as if that answered anything. “What kind of things?”

The tired smile faded. “Just…how badly this complicates things, and not just for us,” he replied, his hand starting towards his jacket for the flask, pausing, and falling back to the armrest.

Guess I’m not the only one who could use a drink on dry land, David thought with a small twinge of relief. Knowing that the aging Russian couldn’t swallow a drop either didn’t make him feel better, per se, but the twinge of sympathy he felt did distract him from his own fear. “I know it’s not just for us. I mean, you saw those people heading south! For all they know, their homes won’t be there tomorrow!”

“No, no, not just us,” he motioned to himself and to the rest of the plane. “I mean…not just…people…”

David’s eyes widened. “The ponies,” he realized.

“Da,” finally, Anton whipped out the flask, flicked the cap off, and upended a single swallow down his throat, grimacing as the alcohol slid to his stomach. “Damned heights…messing with my tolerance for this stuff…”

“Right, right,” David sighed, collapsing into the seat next to him. “Shit, I forgot about the Equestrians…God…how do you suppose the Prince will react to this?”

Anton grimaced, whipping out the flask again and swallowing another gulp with a wince. “After everything that evil bitch took from him, how do you think he’s going to react?”

Author's Notes:

Sorry this one took a little longer than planned. A few days, I know, hope y'all ain't upset

Chapter IV: Scars

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1325 HOURS
NEW CANTERLOT PALACE
NEW CANTERLOT, CENTRAL EQUESTRIAN UNCDI-ADMINISTRATED ZONE, EAST CHINA SEA
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Mi Amore Cadenza’s eyelids slowly drifted shut, her head lolling forward and the buzz from the blinking fluorescents overhead becoming a soft, soothing lullaby as she sat there with a form labeled “176-T” before her. Apparently, it was to grant permission for the local German command to use one of the empty warehouses in Baltimare for storing weaponry and…

UGH! So boring! Why did the entire Baltimare council of elders have to face down the nuclear hellfire ‘like true stallions would’!? Couldn’t just one pony have wussied out at the last moment and cowered in the shelters with the rest of the town’s populace!? It’s not like there hadn’t been enough death on that terrible day!

Cadenza peeled her face off her desk and sat with her chin resting on its surface. She knew the petty problems she faced after that dark moment in time paled in comparison to the millions of ponies vaporized by hellfire, and to the landmarks that had stood for thousands of years only to be reduced to rubble within minutes, but right now, it was six-o-clock and she still had a half-dozen petty bureaucratic issues to settle before she could go home. She figured she was entitled to a selfish thought or two.

“Rough day, my little pony?” Someone said from the other side of her desk. She grimaced and pulled her face up, looking up at a pretty little human in an MP’s uniform with the Chinese flag on a shoulder standing there, her black hair tied back in a knot, a sheepish smile on her face, and another accursed stack of papers in her hands.

Cadenza cringed and smiled weakly. “Yeah, hello Tian, how are you?” She asked, automatically slipping into the human's simplified Han Chinese with the ease everypony had possessed since Equestria's emergence on Earth.

The smile on Tian’s face faded instantly. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I forgot she used to call you…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Cadence waved her off with a hoof, grabbing the pile of papers and laying them on the desk manually, her magic being firmly secured by the small metal band around her horn. “A slip of the tongue, Tian, think nothing of it.”

“I just wish I could make things easier,” the human said with a sigh, eyeing the impressive stacks growing on the pony’s desk.

“Yeah, looks like another all-nighter for me.”

The human gave a sympathetic nod and propped her hands on the desk, fingers spread. “Listen, I know it’s technically against the rules, but if you want a hand…”

“Stop right there,” Cadenza raised a hoof to stop the human. “You know that would be against the treaty. A human working in a purely Equestrian bureaucracy? Both sides would throw a tiff-fit!”

“Shit-fit,” the human corrected with a tired smile.

“That too,” Cadenza said, returning the smile as best as she could. “The point is, they’d have your uniform Tian, and I don’t want to lose you. You’re one of the only soldiers in Canterlot not off to take their anger out on some Celestial cultists.”

“Oh, that?” Tian waved her off. “That’s just boys being boys. You should be grateful for the cultists. Without something to fight, those guys would be daring each other to see who could get a unicorn pissed enough to take off their magic suppressor and blast them.”

“I could never be grateful for anything that might remind me of that evil bitch,” Cadence replied flatly, a sudden surge of anger rising in her chest.

Tian took a few steps back at the rage that suddenly appeared on the little pink unicorn’s face. Why, if she had them, the little thing would be flaring her wings! The human immediately bowed her head apologetically, chastising herself for two social faux pas in as many minutes. “Gosh, sorry Cady, I didn’t mean…”

“God, I know,” Cadence slumped in her chair, her rage abating to a point where she could at least keep it buried. “I’m sorry, it’s just been such a long day, and it doesn’t look like it’s getting any shorter. And anything that reminds me of her just gets me so…so…”

Suddenly, Tian leaned across the desk and wrapped the pony in a hug, her uniformed arms cradling Cadence close to her chest. “I know,” she whispered. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

Despite her first instinct to pull back, Cadence couldn’t help but sink into the hug. She didn’t cry, she’d wept enough tears in the past half-decade to be beyond that, but she wasn’t beyond the pain, or beyond accepting a hug when it was obviously needed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” Tian replied before pulling back. “I know how much even thinking about her must hurt, but just hang in there. In a few weeks, the first ponies will be graduating from that special training course, and you’ll get all the help you’ll ever need here.”

“A room full of bureaucrats, whoopee,” Cadence replied with a dry smile, looking up at Tian with eyes that glistened. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

“That’s what you say, but your tears say different,” the human pointed out.

“Wha…” Cadence reached a hoof to her face, just under an eye, and felt a few trickles run over the keratin. “D-darn it…I thought I was…past this…”

Tian just shook her head. “I don’t think anyone on this planet is ever going to be past what she did. We all suffered at that tyrant’s hooves,” she looked down at Cadence with all the sympathy she could muster. “Some just suffered more than others.”

“Yeah,” Cadence sighed, shaking her head. “Tian, how is it your species produced those Jackass movies and is still capable of saying stuff so wise?”

At that, Tian just tossed her head back and laughed, her warm laughter bursting from her chest and echoing throughout the room. “There’s a question for the ages, hon! Hey, if I ever figure it out I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Sounds like a deal.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? If not for help, at least for moral support?”

“No, no, go on,” Cadence waved her off. “We ponies have to stand on our own some time. Besides, you’ve been here almost as long as I have, judging from the bags under your eyes.”

The human scowled playfully. “Ah, me and my lack of makeup. Oh well,” she shrugged, turning to leave. “You have a good night Cadence.”

“You too, and hey, don’t be so afraid to try makeup! You might get one of those testosterone-addicts outside to finally notice you!” Cadence called after her.

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” Tian laughed before she walked out the door, letting it slam behind her. With the boom from the door echoing in the chamber, Cadence sighed and sank deeper into her seat.

“Alright, let’s see what we have here,” she sighed, sorting through the documents with her bare hooves. It might have been easier with her magic, sure, but the suppressor was such a pain to yank off, and even then, if one of those “testosterone addicts” happened to peek in, she’d have to explain why she was using magic to help with paperwork when it was only to be released in the most extreme circumstances. “Either at the behest of a neutral United Nations observer or in situations where massive loss of property or loss of life would be at risk,” as the treaty so eloquently put it. Besides, she’d grown used to working with her hooves. It felt nice to feel the paper as it travelled over her skin, rather than robotically sorting through a page kept in the air with her magic.

“Request for more funds to Manehattan reconstruction effort…pass…ten pages requesting a new filter for Ponyville aquifer…pass…” she muttered, the minutes ticking by as she sorted through the pages. “Request for expansion to the Crystal Palace…”

She paused, her eyes widening. Leaving the sheet on her desk, she immediately circled the room, checking and double-checking that every door and every window had been sealed and locked shut. She then returned to the desk, her eyes darting over every corner of the room. Thing was, the Crystal Palace had been renamed the Solar Hold after Prin - she had vaporized the wicked King Sombra in battle following his attempted insurrection against her (though looking back, it’s hard to tell if that had been a true victory for good or just one evil destroying another). Which meant this document was…

…a coded transmission from one of the embassies! She thought, practically bouncing in her seat with glee. Finally, she got to put the crash course in code-breaking she’d taken at the Prince’s request to use! And a message directly to Canterlot, meant for the Prince? It had to be huge! Oooohh, I’m just like Daring Do! Or that James Pawned guy the humans are always going on about!

Settling herself with a few deep breaths, she took her seat and set to work decoding the message. Judging by the stationary, it was from Equestria’s London office, wherever that was. She kept promising herself to learn Earth Geography when she had the time. “Let’s see…setting at 0800 hours…that means new…request funds in summation of 1200 bits, that’s…materialize? Odd word, but it’s used in this context here…and the message is…E…Q…U…E…”

Her smile faded, her earlier excitement replaced with a wave of dread, washing over her like a cold tide. “No…” she gasped. It had to be a mistake, it had to be! It was impossible!

She finished decoding the entire message. Then, when she had it, she decoded it again, and again, and again. Around the fifth attempt at decoding, she finally surrendered and accepted what she was seeing. A lump rose in her throat as she slumped in her chair in shock, her pen dropping from her hoof. This time, she did feel herself start to cry, the tears rolling down her cheeks, fat and heavy this time instead of the little trickles she’d held earlier. She managed to stifle a sob by stuffing a hoof in her mouth, albeit just barely.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please. Not again. God no, not again…”

When she had collected herself just a bit, it dawned on her that the Prince would need to hear this. He was the only pony with any sort of power to do something about it. She allowed herself a few more sobs and choked-off gasps before she settled again, smoothing out her mane, standing, collecting the transmission, and walking to the ornate oaken doors along the back wall.

She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself, using a technique that another version of her had spent years teaching a little lavender unicorn for relaxation. Then, keeping her head low, she pushed the doors aside and stepped in.

As usual, the shades were drawn and the lights turned off. That had always seemed like such a waste to her: for the humans to go through all the trouble of installing electric lights in this room, one of the first in Equestria they had done so in, and the Prince never even used them. Not that she would ever bring it up to his face, hell no!

She scanned the room, finding the small, dark lump perched on the large oaken desk, the gold-plated ink quill and pen next to his hoof, as it usually was. “Um, s-sir?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the fearful quiver out of her voice.

“Wha-buh!?” The shape stirred and jolted up, the gleam of a rapier suddenly appearing in the dim light. “Oh, Miss Cadenza, you startled me.”

“S-sorry, sir,” she replied, only relaxing after the weapon was safely back in its hiding place.

“Well, what is it? You didn’t come in here for no reason,” the large pony behind the desk stated.

“R-right,” calming her nerves again, she lifted her face to look right at him with as much confidence as she could find in her little, pink, unicorn’s body. “Sir, our London office is reporting an…occurrence in the North Sea.”

“Well? Out with it.” The Prince stated calmly, yet firmly.

She squeaked, wringing her hooves over the paper in her grip. The Prince let out an audible sigh as he motioned to her. “Please?”

“Sir…I, just don’t know how to put this…” she sighed, running her hooves through her mane. “Th-this was never considered a possibility in any of our contingency meetings, with the humans or otherwise.”

“What’s that, Miss Cadenza?” The Prince asked, obviously growing tired.

She sighed again and took a deep breath, deciding it would probably be best to just get it out in one go and be done with it. “Another Equestria has appeared, with another…ruler.”

The Prince gave pause at that, his silhouette becoming a frozen statue sitting there for a moment. Eventually, he leaned forward and switched on the small lamp he kept on his desk, the eyepatch concealing most of the scar that ran down his face now plainly visible as his marred, grizzled visage entered the light. The magic suppressor around his horn, bejeweled and gold-leaved but still there at the request of the United Nations, glimmered in the faint glow. “I’m sorry, what was that, Miss Cadenza?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She quivered and squeaked again, all pretense of confidence vanishing as the words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, like rats from a sinking ship. “Another Equestria has appeared in the North Sea and the humans have already launched a raid into it and they captured Cel…the Solar Princess and they’re holding her and now the whole UN is mobilizing for war and…and that’s all.”

The Prince remained in place, apparently frozen again. His features remained unreadable. Then he leaned back in his seat, crossing his forelegs over his broad chest. “Thank you, Miss Cadenza, will that be all?” He asked.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good, now, why don’t you go home?” He asked, waving her off. “I’m sure whatever work you have left can wait until the morning, yes?”

“Um…” Most of it really couldn’t, but at this point, she was willing to say just about anything to get out of that room. “Yes, sir, I’ll just be taking my leave for the night.”

“You do that,” he replied, still waving her off. “Good night, Miss Mi Amore Cadenza.”

“G-good night, sir,” she replied, realizing that was the first time he’d said something even remotely outside of “business talk” in her presence since…well…since that day. Since the day he’d lost the last thing in the world that held any meaning for him at the hooves of the one pony in the universe whose name Cadence still couldn’t say out loud. Bowing respectfully, Cadence turned and strode out the door, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

The moment the door closed and the Prince was alone, he visibly shrank, his head resting in his hooves. In a heartbeat, he yanked the suppressor off his horn with practiced ease and tossed it aside, watching it clatter off into the darkness. He reached into one of his desk drawers with a faint, pink glow, pulling out two objects: a tin flask filled with the strongest whiskey he could find in the humans’ lands, and a framed photograph of a little lavender unicorn with pink streaks in her mane and a face lit up with the sort of happiness that only a filly could know.

Taking a swig from the flask, the Prince ran a hoof over the picture, the filly perched on the back of a younger, less-scarred version of himself with a cardboard sword and shield. He smiled. She always had liked playing the savior knight, not the poor, stranded princess when they’d played together. A few drops landed on the photo, and the Prince scowled, gingerly laying the photo back in its place before slumping in his chair again. He took a few more swallows from the flask and wiped the tears from his face on the back of a hoof.

“One way or another, either at my hooves or their hands, you’re going to pay for what you did to my sister, Celestia,” he growled under his voice, keeping it low to prevent any curious ears from hearing. He leaned forward in his chair, a blue curl falling from his mane and dangling over his one good eye in the dim lamplight, his alabaster coat shimmering in the flickering candle. “You’re gonna pay for killing my Twily.”

Author's Notes:

Edit: OH SHI...and special thanks goes out to Lackrome for editing and for putting up with my temper!

Just so you all know, speech in italics is in a language other than English. Yeah, I know, short update. I hope the twist near the end there makes up for it. And if not, then I pray the comedic stylings of Christopher Titus can do the trick.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz-kd4WHbS4

Chapter V: The Masks We Wear

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
1500 HOURS
ROYAL INFIRMARY
CANTERLOT PALACE, CANTERLOT, EQUESTRIA
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shining Armor’s eyes slowly cracked open. Wincing with pain, he squeezed them shut again. Voices echoed in his ears, unfamiliar and garbled, like his ears had been stuffed with cotton. Calm yourself, some inner part of him urged. Take stock of the situation and reorient yourself based on what you know.

Something soft and cottony was at his back, something else cool keeping his head supported. A military cot, definitely, with one of those cheap pillows from the stockroom. He’d lain in enough of these during Basic to recognize the feel almost instantly. Now, what else did he know? The echo-like quality of the voices in his ears probably indicated hearing damage, and the extreme pain upon seeing light almost certainly pointed to a long amount of time knocked out, with the added bonus of possible damage to the occipital lobe.

Thank you, battlefield triage, he thought. Okay, that was all fine and dandy, but what else did he know? How did he get here from…wherever it was he had been? Let’s see…he remembered walking with Twily…he was in full guard regalia, was there some battle going on? No, he remembered talking candidly with her, that’s not something you did in a battlefield situation. A security operation, then? Maybe, some sort of anomaly appearing in Equestria…

Anomaly…

That was it! He could remember everything now! Walking with Twilight, meeting with her friends, accidentally bumping into Rainbow Dash (which he made a mental note to vehemently deny for the rest of his days), and most importantly of all, meeting with the Princess and…

“PRINCESS! TWILIGHT!” He gasped, bolting upright in his cot, allowing his eyes to bug wide open. Bad idea: the sudden sting of light assaulting his eyes combined with the blood rushing from his head knocked him right back down again, cradling his head in his hooves and moaning. At the very least, the sudden rush of emotions seemed to help in discerning the voices from the barely-audible static in his ears, allowing him to hear the ponies around him.

“Has anypony seen my son!? My little Richie, has anypony seen him!?” Distraught mother. No surprises there, considering what happened.

“Oh Celestia above, I can’t see! Why can’t I see!?” Panicking civvies. Again, no surprises there.

“Consarn it, first you city folk mess up one a’ my fields with your dag-blasted magic portals, then y’all tell me I can’t even leave to harvest m’other fields!?” Old stallion Jenkins? What was he doing here?

“Captain Armor, ‘tis good to see you again.” Princess Luna.

“PRINCESS LUNA!” Shining Armor gasped, a hoof automatically flying to his forehead in salute. Unfortunately, with his mind still fuzzy and his body still uncoordinated, all he managed to accomplish was a good, firm punch to his own forehead. “Gyah, sorry,” he grumbled, rubbing at the red hoofmark growing on his face.

“At ease, Captain,” the Princess said, and he felt a reassuring hoof press on his shoulder. “You were among the worst injured, though I suspect we should be grateful for that, all things considered.”

“Yeah, at least I’m still breathing,” Shining guffawed, then he felt a sharp intake of breath on the Princess’s part. His smile faded. “Oh, Celestia above, please don’t tell me there were…”

“We are…sorry, Captain. T’was not your fault, you must realize that.”

Despite her reassurances, Shining pushed himself up until he was leaning on his elbows, ignoring the pounding growing steadily louder in his head. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes, remaining patient on opening them despite the urge to just bolt upright in the cot and jolt them wide open. At first, the pain remained, but then it slowly dulled and his vision focused, allowing indistinct blobs and colors to coalesce and form into shapes he could recognize. First came the tent, military-standard canvas he would recognize from any battlefield triage center. Then came the ponies, groups of terrified civilians either resting on cots or gathered around them, all looking around in shock and confusion as medics and nurses trotted amongst them, all of which he also recognized from most battlefield situations. Finally, the area outside the tent started to slide into focus, the still-shining sun beating down on warm blades of grass, the fence they’d all been leaning on not even a day before, and…and a group of guards with grim looks on their faces, setting yellow caution tape up around a tarp-covered bundle that had a single bloody hoof sticking out.

“Oh Celestia,” Shining gasped. He dropped back onto the cot, his hooves pressing into his eyes. “Oh, Celestia and Luna!”

“Yon fool rushed against the attackers on his own,” Luna said, replacing the comforting hoof on his shoulder. “Again, ‘twas not your fault.”

“I’m a royal guard. My job is to keep the Princesses safe, my own sister included,” Shining replied, not bothering to open his eyes. “If I hadn’t failed on that end, would that idiot have even thought to try and attack those things on his own?”

Luna didn’t say anything, though the fact that a Princess known for her use of old-timey wordiness was at a loss for words didn’t encourage him any. Still, the hoof on his shoulder was a decent comfort, all things considered. Between the civilian casualties and missing princesses, he could use a bit of comfort just then.

“Gosh, there’s so many,” he mumbled, head turning on the pillow to the cots alongside him.

“Actually, most of these ponies are just stunned,” Luna replied. “We are merely holding them at the moment to ensure word about this does not leak out.”

“We’re holding them prisoner!? Why?”

“An alien world with abilities we can’t even fathom has kidnapped two of Equestria’s royal elite,” Luna sighed, shaking her head. “If word gets out, there will be panic in the streets. All things considered, with Tia – with my sister and the Element of Magic missing, I just didn’t want to chance having to deal with yet another crisis.”

Shining Armor’s nose wrinkled at that, but he said nothing. Though he found the idea of holding a bunch of frightened civilians hostage for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time just repulsive, he could see the logic in the Princess’s words. Besides, he had always seen himself as a soldier first and a leader in the Crystal Empire second. It was hard to beat the mindset that he was meant to follow orders without question, only relaying the best way of carrying them out to the few ponies under his command. Back in the Crystal Empire, his wife handled all the real administration, writing up edicts and following up with him on how they were being carried out. He was really just there to hang out and look pretty. And yes, stand in defiance against any horrors from the ancient past threatening his home, that was just a given.

“We share your distaste, Captain,” the Princess remarked, reading his features in an instant. “But ‘tis the situation we find ourselves in, and we must adapt to pull through as best we can. Is that not one of the mantras of thine Royal Guard training?”

Despite himself, a tiny grin crossed Shining’s face, earning a look of surprise from the Princess. “Y’know, Cadence does that to me all the time,” he said. “Turn my own guard instincts against me and all. I’ve always admired that about her.”

Luna nodded and returned the smile. “The mark of a clever mare.”

“Oh, speaking of,” he tried to sit up again, failed, and resigned himself to just laying on the bed and tilting his head in her general direction. “We need to call her in. We’ll need all the firepower we can get.”

“Actually, she teleported in the moment she received my letter,” Luna replied. “She’s waiting just outside. She understands we needed this debriefing beforehoof.”

“Ah. Alright then, we’re gonna need reserve units…”

“To be called up, yes, we know. Every reserve garrison from here to Baltimare just received orders for an increased regimen of ‘training exercises’.”

“G-good…oh! And if Cadence is here, we’ll need…”

“Your plants in the Crystal Gardens are being watered, Captain!” Luna said, her wings flaring in exasperation. “The Empire is being managed by the emergency protocols you and your wife laid in place, we have trains inbound from every territory with supplies to support either a long, drawn-out siege or a massive battle, and we’ve cancelled your reservation at this Saturday’s Comic-Con in Trottingham! Everything is resolved, now will you please relax!?”

“Alright, alright,” he said, somewhat surprised at her outburst. He turned over on his cot again.

“Do you wish to know anything else?”

“Yeah, how are the girls taking it?”

“They’re positively distraught,” Luna replied, her eyes glistening. “Or, at least, Fluttershy and Rarity are. Pinkie Pie only just stopped crying, and Rainbow Dash and Applejack had to be restrained to keep them from single-hoofedly attempting an attack on the other world.”

“Yeah, that sounds like them,” Shining Armor attempted another smile, but it came off flat, feeling alien on his face. He gave up on it after a moment. “Can I see my wife now?”

“Of course, Captain,” Luna nodded before trotting back out, leaving Shining with perhaps five milliseconds of alone time to process what had happened before a pink blur sailed in through the tent flap and body-slammed him.

“SHINING!” Cadence cried, her hooves wrapping around his midsection while she showered him with kisses. “HOW BADLY ARE YOU HURT!? ARE YOU FEELING OKAY!? DO YOU SEE A BRIGHT LIGHT!? OH MY DEAR SWEET CELESTIA, STAY OUT OF THE LIGHT SHINING! PLEEEASE! STAY OUT OF…”

He grimaced, teeth clenching in pain as she rocked him back and forth. “My…legs…” he managed to grunt.

“What, your legs!? Oh Maker above, you can’t feel your legs!? Don’t worry Shining!” She held him close, tears pouring down her cheeks. “We’ll get through this as husband and wife! I won’t leave you! We’ll get you a physical therapist, and we’ll find the best wheelchair in Equestria for you, and…”

“No…you’re standing on them…my legs…” he mumbled.

“Wha-oh,” she gave a quick flap of her wings, lifting off his body and landing gracefully at his bedside. He let out a sigh of instant relief, blood rushing back to his legs. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, really!” He smiled at her, ignoring the pain as he held out a hoof to stroke her chin. His eyes locked with hers and she sniffled. “I’m fine, Cady. I’m just fine.”

“I’m sorry, Shiny,” she whimpered, her hoof clenching his as he stroked the side of her muzzle reassuringly. “For a second, I thought I might be losing you too, and with Auntie Tia gone and Twi…Twi…” she couldn’t even make it through Twilight’s name, the tears now welling up and wetting both their hooves as he continued to stroke her.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled her in close, careful to avoid her horn as her head nuzzled into his chest. “It’ll be alright, okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

“How can they be fine, Shiny? Two of the most important ponies in the world have been foalnapped by monsters from another dimension, who’ve already killed one of our own!” Her tear-filled eyes lifted to face the blood-covered bundle outside the tent flap, which was being loaded onto a stretcher, the bloody hoof hurriedly tucked in. “The things that did that have our Twily, how could they possibly be alright?”

Instead of talking, he pulled her face away from the tent flap and kissed her, long and hard, passionately locking lips while stroking her shoulders reassuringly. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “I promise. Wherever Twilight is, nothing is gonna stop us from getting her back.”

She sniffled, bit her lip, and leaned in on top of him again. He continued stroking her long into the night, as Princess Luna lowered the sun and her moon rose high into the sky. Then, and only then, with an exhausted Cadence passed out next to him on the cot, did he allow the tears he'd been suppressing the entire day to start flowing. I-I promise, he repeated to himself, over and over again. We’ll get you back, Twily, no matter what. Oh Celestia above, please be alright.

Chapter VI: The Descent

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0550 HOURS
THE HMS ILLUSTRIOUS
NORTH SEA, OFF THE NORWEGIAN COASTLINE, BOUND FOR KARELIA
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David turned over restlessly in his seat. It was obvious that the AW101 he was flying in had not been built with comfort in mind, but then, what did he honestly expect from a military chopper? Gold plated armrests and a tuxedoed man with a French accent to wait on him?

"I swear, this wouldn't be so bad if they’d allowed us to hold on to our damned luggage," Andre grumbled, brushing a few locks of blonde hair out of his eyes. “They didn’t have to take freakin’ everything!”

Well, okay, they had Andre. He was French: that was something! Maybe he could ask the guy to deck himself out in a tux and serve them all drinks at some point, Lord knows the others would gladly approve of the old stereotype of a French waiter. Hell, Andre might even agree to it as a favor of sorts!

Yeah, sure, right after he finished punching him in the face and asking if that "goddamn Kraut" had put him up to this. Maybe that was one idea he could just let pass.

As David wondered around in his thoughts, Anton grinned and reached into his flight jacket, adjusting the shoulder harness holding him to his seat just enough to reach in and pull out the flask he'd been drinking out of during the flight. He held it up like a gold trophy at a sporting event, a grin of victory plastered across his face. “They did not take everything, little ones.”

"Oh my God," David gasped, Anton's grin spreading to his face. "Don't tell me you seriously did the stereotypical Russian thing and worked like hell to save your booze!?"

"Some stereotypes are there for good reason, mine yankee-doodle tovaricsh," The Russian replied, taking a swig from the flask before handing it to Felipe. "Drink up, everyone. I have a feeling we'll need it."

Though it was obvious the young Brazilian wanted nothing to do with it, Felipe uncapped the small, silver flask and tilted it down his throat, wincing and coughing violently, but managing to keep it all down as he passed the flask on with a painful smile plastered on his face.

Yeah kid, I'm not feeling it either, Dave thought even as he took a swig himself. As expected, the drink burnt the entire way down, feeling more like acid than anything alcoholic, but a second later the familiar tingle of being warmed from the inside out washed over his body, radiating out from his chest. His face morphed from a distasteful grimace to a contented sigh, and he passed the flask on to the next person waiting for a drink.

He turned his head, peeking out the round window built into the chopper’s side. The Illustrious, once a long blip on the horizon, now dominated the view. He could even make out the rows of fighters parked on deck, all with little, ant-like dots racing around them, working furiously. “Nothing like a threat to all humanity to get the military’s collective rear in gear,” he muttered, and it wasn’t just the British. Off in the distance, he could make out at least half a dozen more black dots representing warships, probably American, Norwegian and Russian, all hanging out just over the horizon. No doubt a couple dozen other nations would be joining them soon.

“Davey?” He turned to see his Russian counterpart standing there, having slipped out of his harness, holding his flask out to Dave’s face. “There’s still a little left. The others thought you should have it.”

David did a quick scan of the faces around him. Every one of them shared a variation of the same puckered lips and scrunched-up noses, as if they’d all just had to watch a toddler eat one of its own boogers. Even Liu, the only man ever to drink him under a table, had the corners of his mouth turned down in distaste. The American smiled and accepted the final few sips gladly, this time releasing only a contented sigh aimed in the Chinese diplomat’s direction, much to the man’s obvious chagrin. He handed the flask back and kept that smile up until the helicopter touched down, when he used the sudden bump to let loose with a massive gag capped off with a cough.

“Pussy,” Anton snickered, apparently having kept his eyes on David the entire time, just gripping the overhead support struts to stay on his feet.

“No, just not used to drinking turpentine, is all,” Dave spat back, feeling a surprising amount of satisfaction at the grimace that earned from the Russian.

The rear hatch dropped open and a pair of men in flight uniforms with the Union Jack stitched to the arm ducked inside. One of them took a quick look around, then turned to Anton.

“You guys are the diplomats?”

“Who wants to know?” The Russian replied, keeping a steely glare on the pair.

“Who wants…Her Majesty’s Navy, that’s who!”

Anton gave him a look as if to say Is that supposed to impress me? But he followed up with a quick, curt nod, which the soldier was more than happy to accept as a yes.

“Follow us,” the other soldier said, and the pair jogged out of the chopper and waited on the tarmac, turning back to the group as the blades whipped the wind up all around them. The diplomats quickly shrugged off their harnesses and went after them, thudding down the ramp and onto the deck of the Illustrious as one, marching together in perfect step without a second thought.

The men in camo led the group away from the helipad and back towards the bridge, jogging past men loading up weapons, performing systems tests, and rushing equipment from one part of the landing strip to the next. A civilian might have been impressed by the sheer effort being expended for a war that hadn’t even occurred yet, but Dave kept his mind focused, his eyes on the massive tower jutting out from the otherwise flat landing strip. He hadn’t always been a civilian, after all, and it was easy to fall right back into that old line of thinking from his days as a marine, back during a time when he’d stood on the deck of a carrier not too unlike this, when…when…

God above…Christ alive…don’t tell me that’s her! Please, Jesus Christ almighty…

He shook the memory off, shoving it right back down to the furthest reaches of his mind, as far from the light of day as he could bury it. There was a time and a place to deal with shit like that, and now wasn’t one of them. Problem was, as a psychiatrist might have found, it had been neither that time nor that place for the past five years.

He had just about finished shoving the memory back into the hellish pit from which it came when the group reached the tower. A large, steel door was opened for them, and they all ducked inside, panting with the quick jog they’d been treated to, though not as heavily as one might think a bunch of diplomats would pant. The soldiers stood at attention next to a door at the far side of the small, metal room the diplomats found themselves in, standing ramrod straight and in complete silence.

“Well, nothing like a brisk jog to get the old heart movin’,” Lisa joked once she’d caught her breath. Which was just before I did, David noticed, she must jog. Well, I guess, duh, with a body like that.

“Speak for…yourself…Limey…” Anton huffed, his hand reaching for his coat out of habit, then pausing when he remembered the pair of men watching them. “Cripes…haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah, and it shows, tovarisch,” Liu joked.

“Shove it up your ass.”

“Atten-SHUN!” The soldiers cried, somehow standing even straighter than they had been. David had to force the urge to follow suit back down, not wanting to explain why he was standing in the perfect posture drilled into him by the Marine Corps to the rest of the group. In a few moments, the door between the soldiers squeaked open, and through it stepped a large man in the pure-white uniform of an admiral, and again David had to suppress the urge to salute. Foreign navy or not, the uniform of an admiral, especially one as highly-maintained and decorated as this guy’s, was an impressive sight.

The Admiral surveyed the group with a pair of weathered, old eyes, set beneath a cap that only revealed a few strands of red hair that had escaped beneath its brim. He would be the perfect stereotype of an old sea commander if he just had a massive set of whiskers, but nope: his broad chin was as clean as a baby’s bottom, to David’s semi-disappointment. When he spoke, it was with an old, gravelly rasp combined with his British accent, making him sound like the sort of guy who sat alone in the corner of a pub, just daring someone to start something.

“Hello, and I am Admiral Peters,” the gravelly rasp said. “You lot are the UNCDI reps for the Isles?”

“That’s correct, sir,” Lisa said in a timid little tone that, to Dave at least, fit her about as well as clogs on a duck. She offered her hand, which the Admiral took with a firm shake, causing everyone in the room to release a collective breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. “I’m Lisa Townshend, for London, and these are my associates from each of the other Security Council nations.”

Those weathered eyes scanned them, seeming to pierce right into each person’s soul as they passed over. They dwelt on Anton for a moment, the Russian returning the look, each man just looking at one another. Not glaring, per se, but more like sizing the other up. Then the Admiral moved on to David. “You the Yank?” He asked.

“Uh…yes sir,” Dave said, a bit taken aback that he’d been pointed out so quickly and with such ease. In a flash, he had the image of the Admiral having him thrown overboard because of some deep-seated grudge with Americans that nobody dared question. But the Admiral simply nodded, a quick thank you for offering up a simple fact, nothing more. Then he turned to step back through the door he’d walked in through, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Try t’keep up,” the old navy man said. He didn’t have to repeat himself. The group was practically on top of him, remaining at his back as they walked at a pace just barely slower than the jog they’d just been put through. Their heels all tapped on the metal plating, the Admiral keeping the pace up as they rushed past rows of closed doors with muffled voices coming from inside, some jovial, some argumentative, a few obviously drunk.

“Sir,” Lisa said, remaining at the Admiral’s side. “If I may be so bold…”

“No questions.” The Admiral said briskly. “I’ll tell you when you can ask, but not here. Too many ears.”

Lisa looked a bit surprised at his quick admonition, but nodded and kept pace with him, keeping her eyes locked straight ahead and her mouth shut, all the while allowing the men a decent look of her behind as it swayed in front of them all, like a carrot at the end of a string. Even Dave couldn’t help but chance a couple quick glances from the bottoms of his eyes while keeping his chin raised.

The Admiral led them to a large freight elevator and swiped a keycard, produced from one of his many pockets. Then he removed his hat and leaned in as a retinal scanner worked over his eyeball, which revealed a numeric keypad from a small slot in the wall, into which he entered a long, impossible-to-follow code. At last, a section of the wall next to the freight elevator opened up with a pneumatic hiss, revealing yet another elevator.

“Clever,” Franz remarked. The Admiral didn’t even look over his shoulder, only stepping into the elevator with the full expectation that the group would be right behind him. He wasn’t disappointed. Once they had all crowded together, the Admiral pressed a large, red button on the far wall and the door slid shut. The elevator jerked once and began the long descent into the deeper underbelly of the ship, machinery humming away somewhere beneath them.

“I apologize for my brashness,” the Admiral said. “Time is of the essence, however, and military protocol strictly prohibits me from discussing this matter someplace where there could be even a chance of eavesdroppers.”

“And this elevator qualifies because…” Dave said.

“Of the amount of money we poured into making this entire part of the ship just that sort of place,” the Admiral replied, a knowing smile on his face. “I’d go into details, but then I would have to kill you.”

“Sir,” Lisa interrupted, again in the uncharacteristic, mousy tone. David couldn’t say he cared for it, deciding right then and there to bring it up with her at some point. “If I may be so bold, what is this all about? We were taken from our headquarters rather abruptly, and nobody seems willing to divulge any answers, especially in the face of the…uh…the anomaly.”

Sure. Anomaly. That was a fair enough name for it. Dave might have gone with “harbinger of man’s doom,” but that was just him.

“The anomaly is exactly why we’re here,” the Admiral explained. “As I’m sure you lot have already been made aware, an SAS platoon was on maneuvers off the Isle of Man when the new portal appeared.”

Anton nodded once again, as curtly as he had before, and the Englishman took this as a sign to continue. “Well, that platoon managed to get their hands on some Tachyon Inhibitors and subsequently launched a top-secret raid into the other side.”

“Oh my God…” David gasped, along with the rest of the group. “What did they find!?”

The Admiral sighed, peeling off his hat and running his fingers through his thinning hair. “There is no simple way to put this,” he explained. “So I’ll keep it brief: the SAS managed to capture this other Equestria’s version of Target Alpha.”

The elevator fell into stunned silence. “The Princess of Day…” Chen muttered in a tiny, childish voice. Everyone recognized the Princess’s old codename on the International Court’s most wanted list. Chen followed up with a long, mumbled string of curses in his native Han.

“Y-you’re serious,” Anton stammered, his eyes wide.

The Admiral nodded, this time throwing in a smile that lit up his whole face. “I am.”

A loud thump filled the room as Franz’s eyes rolled back in his skull and his body slammed into the floor. Felipe stooped to help him up, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Thank you…” an uncharacteristically small voice said. Lisa again, keeping herself supported with one of the rails lining the elevator’s walls. “Thank Jesus…Thank Christ! Oh, thank you, thank you,” she cried out in relief, sinking to her knees, sobbing the words over and over again.

Anton was the first to reach her, patting her back as she bawled into the stainless steel floor. Everybody understood. It was one thing to know the evil bitch was scheming thousands of miles away from your home, but when your entire country was under threat? Especially considering what she had done the last time, just when humanity thought they had been on the verge of beating her? That was something else altogether. Lisa had just gone from wondering if her home would be a radioactive wasteland tomorrow to knowing it would be safe for another day in less than twenty-four hours.

“Oh my God,” Andre gasped, looking up at the Admiral. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? This is where you’re keeping her.”

“For the time being,” the Admiral shrugged.

“Mother FUCK!” David yelled, suddenly snapping out of his stupor. “She’s here!? On this ship!? Why aren’t we evacuating and nuking her from orbit, then!?”

“Relax, kid. We have enough Tachyon Inhibitors on her to fight the Collision Wars all over again. We could keep both her and the original Celestia locked up here, and they’d still be about as powerful as a gnat. In fact, we are sort of doing that right now.”

The whole group exchanged looks. “What do you mean by that?” Anton asked, ever the fearless leader.

“There was something else,” the Admiral sighed, twirling his cap on one finger. “The SAS squad that captured the Princess captured another Alicorn.”

“Jesus…” Andre moaned. “That can happen? There can be more than one at a time?”

The Admiral nodded. “It seems as though our Celestia wasn’t entirely honest with us, or with her own people. Big surprise there.”

“That’s where we’re going,” Andre mused, his face suddenly growing pale. An inane look crossed his face, a sudden smile that David found all too unsettling. When he spoke again, his accent became almost stereotypically thick, as if what he had learned had turned him into a cartoon version of himself. “We’re going to see ze pretty pony pwincess.”

The Admiral nodded. “You lot are supposed to be the experts on international relations and how these four-legged bastards are supposed to react to us. You’re probably the only people in the entire European sphere even remotely qualified to deal with this.”

“That’s an utterly terrifying thought,” Dave muttered dryly. “So, who gets to chat up the evil, genocidal, bitch?”

“We’ve decided on that, actually: the Princess appears to possess the capability of English-speaking, much like the ponies of the first Equestria could speak Mandarin immediately upon entering our world.”

“Actually, it was simplified Han,” Liu put in.

The Admiral waved him off and continued. “It’s obvious that whatever magic voodoo bullshit was in play at the start of the Collision Wars are in play here, just like it’s obvious that whoever goes in now should be able to speak the language.”

“That’s everybody in this elevator,” Andre quickly pointed out.

“Well, maybe ‘speak’ isn’t the right word,” the Admiral turned to Lisa. “We were thinkin’ it might be best if a native speaker, someone who spent their whole life around the language, went in there first.”

She stood on a pair of shaking legs, pressing herself to her feet with Anton’s help. “I-I dunno,” she said, still supporting herself on the rail. “I-I can try…”

“Lis, you just learned your country isn’t going to be a crater tomorrow morning, when everything in the last twelve hours said it would,” Dave pointed out, stepping up. “You could use a breather. I’ll do it.”

On the outside, he made sure to spend every effort he could on appearing cool and calm. On the inside, every one of his instincts screamed to him how bad of an idea this was. How absolutely he was signing his own death warrant. How completely this would be painting a target on his back for one of the most powerful creatures in the universe to hone in on. But he just had to take one look at Lisa to know he was doing the right thing. She was just regaining the ability to stand; Lord knows she was in no shape to face down Hitler reincarnated as a talking horse princess.

The Admiral scowled, evidently not keen on switching out one of his countrymen for an American, but relented easily. “Just so you know, we’ll be right in the next room while you talk to her. She’s restrained, but that doesn’t mean you should approach her or try to pet her or any shit like that.”

David’s heart dropped into his stomach, had a nibble of the donut he’d eaten for breakfast, and catapulted itself right up into his throat. “Wait, you’re saying I’m gonna be in the same room!?”

“We want this first meeting to be face to face,” the Admiral replied. “We’ll record everything and hopefully, from her reaction to you, we’ll be able to gauge how much she shares with her counterpart. That’s the deal. That won’t be a problem, now, will it?”

Yes, it will be a big fuckin’ problem! Dave almost screamed, but one more look at the way Lisa still trembled allowed him to hammer his jaw shut at the last moment. “No. It. Won’t.” He managed to squeak with a little smile. Sure. Who wants to see their 30th birthday anyway?

“Excellent, then it’s settled,” the Admiral said just as the elevator came to a halt. “And just in time, too. Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re going into the lair of the beast.”

The doors whined open onto a long, stainless steel hallway that looked like it hadn’t been touched until recently, and even then in passing. Dave took a whiff of the air, and his nose wrinkled with the scent of engine oil. “Huh. The lair of the beast smells kinda like my grandma’s house.”

The entire group turned on him, their looks telling him they were honestly questioning his sanity. “What?” He asked. “Grandma was a bit of a car freak.”

“Way to kill the mood, yankee-doodle,” Anton smirked, though his tone suggested that he wasn’t joking.

The group set out along the empty hallways, passing vacant bunks and empty cantinas with darkened vending machines that hummed in an atmosphere that otherwise would have been eerily quiet. “Where are the guards?” Lisa asked aloud, breaking the silence for a blessed moment.

“On the floor above us, behind a few layers of heat-proofed metal and sitting upon a pile of inhibitors,” the Admiral replied. “Trust me, if they are ever needed, that’s where they need to be to even begin containment. Everything down here, from the doorways to the prisoners’ water supply, is controlled from up there. If this Princess is even a fraction as powerful as the first, she would just slaughter any man we have down here before the guys upstairs had a chance to react.”

“Good enough for us diplomats though, right?” Andre smirked. The Admiral said nothing, only leading them to the next set of metal doors.

“This is where we part ways,” he announced, pulling a keypad out of a hidden slot in the wall and punching in yet another long, overly-complex code. He stood to the side, shouting over the pneumatic hiss and grind of another hidden door sliding open, a flashing warning light casting his face in a strange, orange glow. “We will be watching everything from upstairs. A few guards will be sent down later to help you all settle in. Are there any questions?”

There wasn’t.

The Admiral nodded, and saluted once, standing perfectly straight. “Godspeed to you all,” he said, then dropped his hand and strode back to the elevator, his back still as straight as could be.

The group eyed one another, standing in silence until the door opened fully and the warning light stopped blinking. Anton was the first to step forward, a determined look in his eyes while he ducked through the entrance and into the dim light beyond. The rest of the group still stood there, nobody wanting to be the next ones through, and then Anton’s hand appeared from the other side. Swallowing his fear, David took it, grasping the aging Russian harshly, and then he held out his hand. Lisa followed suit, laying her hand in his and offering hers out to the next person, and so they continued until everybody held a hand in a long, unbroken chain. Then, holding their breaths, the group ducked through the portal and into the unknown, some praying, some hoping for the best, all holding onto the hand in their grip for dear life, hoping that the next person in line maybe had a bit more courage than they did.

Author's Notes:

I am SO sorry for the long wait on this one! Had to graduate, had some stuff go on...but you're not interested in this, you should know though that we're FINALLY going to see Canonlestia in her containment next chapter, which will most definitely be up soon. Like, within the next couple weeks. So you all have that to look forward to. That makes up for things, right? Right?

Chapter VII: Interview with a Princess (REVISED AT LAST)

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0610 HOURS
ABOARD THE HMS ILLUSTRIOUS
NORTH SEA, OFF THE NORWEGIAN COASTLINE, BOUND FOR KARELIA
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Princess Celestia of Equestria was used to being held prisoner. Surprisingly so, for an ultra-powerful princess ruling over a nation of harmony and light, which in turn was known all over the world for its power and magical prowess. There was the changeling invasion, Tirek’s attack on Equestria, Prince Umbra’s Rebellion of 349. Yes, there had been a whole mess of different scenarios that she could have gone on about for hours, detailing the different accommodations she had received in each (changeling cocoon, the summit of a dark mountain in Tartarus, and a leather BDSM outfit with spreader bars, in that order), but this was the first time she had been held in a land as strange as this.

From the moment she had woken, she hadn't been able to sense even a scrap of magic anywhere around her, although that could have been the restraints. Some weird metal tube was clamped around her horn, locked in place in such a way that no matter how hard she tried to scrape it off, it never even budged. It almost seemed made for an alicorn’s horn, feeling it. So did these creatures have experience with alicorns? Or more accurately, with restraining alicorns? There was a scary thought: these creatures had experience with ponies, and yet she hadn’t even seen a single pony since being bought to this place. She prayed this was just because she hadn’t seen much of anything of this land or its people. She’d only woken up while being dragged along a hallway by two of the creatures wearing cloth masks, her hooves bound and the ring locked around her horn. She hadn’t attempted conversation. The way her captors carried themselves just screamed “soldiers." Probably under orders not to talk with her, too, and based on the sheer ferocity of the attack, there was a good chance any attempt at conversation would have ended in a blow someplace where it would hurt.

She pulled at the metal casts locked around her legs that kept her bolted to the floor, and as with the previous attempts, she got nothing. Whatever metal this was, it had to be incredibly powerful. Ugh, if she could only stretch out her wings, they desperately needed a good crack! But the chains binding them didn’t have an ounce of give in them, probably made of the same metal as the casts. These creatures were thorough, she would give them that much. It might take even one such as her years to escape, if it was possible at all. At the very least, they could have allowed her some mobility to clamp her hooves into her ears. The beeping from the collar around her neck was driving her nuts!

She scanned deeper into the room, at the clear box surrounding her on all sides that looked like glass, but was too strong to be glass. At the strange, whirring and beeping doodads and lights that seemed to be watching her somehow, as if a few beams of light could track her. At the miles of tiny, little cables that seemed to hold it all together, but at some points came loose, so that wasn’t right…what were all these little cables for, then? And why did they run to every little gadget in the room, to the corners of her box, up from slots in the floor and in the shadows, just everywhere she looked? At least the gadgets supplied some light: otherwise she’d be standing in total darkness with nothing but that infernal beeping!

Keeping herself occupied, her mind wondered back to the initial attack that saw her imprisoned. She remembered the objects rolling out of the portal, then white light, and then pain, but that was all. Just what had been the motivation for such a brutal raid? The precursor for an all-out invasion? She shivered at that thought. If that was these creatures’ intent, they were off to a great start. Technology that could nullify magic and the kidnapping of their targets’ leader: she couldn’t even think of a better way to begin a war. Why, she wouldn’t be surprised if Canterlot had been overrun by now. Horrified, of course, but not surprised.

Something shifted in the darkness beyond the circle of lights and beeping. She braced herself for what was to come. What tortures would she be subjected to in this prison? What would these creatures want? In fact, what would they even look like? She only knew that they were bipedal and possessed fingers. Like diamond dogs, but much less bulky. Whatever was hiding under that armor was still a complete mystery. What was under there? Hideous, tentacle-covered faces? Insect-like mandibles? What horror-movie looks would be staring at her in mere moments?

Whatever it might be, she could not afford to recoil, could not afford to show any sign of disgust whatsoever, no matter how hideous they might look to her. There might still be a chance to salvage the situation, and helpless as she was, she needed every diplomatic advantage she could get her hooves on. No matter the situation, she still needed to play the game of diplomacy for her little ponies. She would meet her enemy’s eyes as equals, even if those eyes were compound or at the end of slug-like stalks. Surely they would understand that, these creatures still had to have some good in them.

A tapping noise echoed throughout the chamber, growing closer. She held her breath, her heart beating in her chest, only slowed by a conscious effort she’d perfected through centuries of meditation. A figure stepped into the dim light, clad in a tan shirt, black pants, and impeccably shiny black shoes. Okay, so they had a sense for fashion. That would be great news for Miss Rarity. If she ever saw her again.

The creature stepped lightly, the heels on its handsome shoes tapping away as its head ducked into the light. For a second, she saw the monstrosities in her mind made real, tentacles writhing out of a misshapen head, surveying her with beady, predatory eyes. But then her mind adjusted to what she was seeing and revealed…

Actually, it was rather cute.

Now, it wasn’t as adorable as, say, one of those parasprite pests, but it had these colorful eyes that were small without being beady, much like a newborn foal’s, and there was a little tuft of hair on its head. Aww, and there was even some fuzz on its hands, and a teeny, weeny, button nose!

Recomposing herself, Celestia met the creatures widdle...little eyes and cleared her throat. "I am Princess Celestia of Equestria," she announced. "You have attacked a sovereign nation without declaration of war and without provocation."

Suddenly, the creature's eyes ignited with rage unlike any she had ever seen. For a second, it was not the cute, bipedal monkey that had walked into the room. It was some horrible predator from the dawn of time created for nothing more than destroying anything that got in its way, aimed at nothing short of total destruction. Then the cute little monkey was back, as if nothing had happened to it.

"You're one to talk," it muttered.

”Keep it together,” a tiny, buzz-filled voice said, so small she could barely hear it. The creature nodded once and held one hand over its head, its thumb and forefinger closed in a circle. She didn’t know what that symbol could mean, but knew it had to be a signal to more of its kind.

We’re being watched, she realized. Still, that just distracted from a massive revelation: despite being a completely alien species, she had understood this creature perfectly well. "You speak?" She asked.

"It's some magic voodoo horseshit," the creature replied, pulling a small chair out of the darkness and setting it up right in front of her. It crossed its legs as it sat, eyeing her coldly with its fleshy hands folded in its lap. "Whatever magic created the portal between our worlds also allows you to speak in the most commonly-spoken tongue of wherever it is you appear. Hence, English."

"English," she said, playing with the way the word rolled off her tongue. It did have a catchy sort of cadence to it, even if it was utterly meaningless to her. "Alright, I can understand you, and you can understand me, does your species have a name?"

The creature looked at her, its eyebrows hunching. "Humans," it replied, as if her question had revealed something extraordinary.

"Humans..." she said, again playing with the word. "Now, may I assume you humans all have names?"

"You may."

"May I know your name?"

"No."

Something was wrong. This creature was being overtly hostile. Was it biased against quadrupeds, perhaps? Or it could be the magic thing. She sensed no magic within it, while even Earth ponies from her home held at least some residual traces of magic absorbed from the environment around them. Did this world have no magic? That could explain some of the reactions she had received here. Magic could be quite frightening to a species that had none, and she knew how powerful a weapon it could be in the wrong hooves. Perhaps these humans knew that too, hence the fear. "I can assure you that, no matter your assumptions, we wish no harm upon your species."

"So you say," the creature replied, its arms crossing in front of its chest.

Hold on, she was going about this all wrong. There was something else going on here: that was obvious now that she focused on the human. Her eyebrows furrowed as she faced the creature down, her confusion growing as her keen senses drank in every motion and every little twitch of muscle on the human’s face. "Why are you so afraid of me?" She asked.

The creature looked taken aback, nearly falling out of its chair. "Who says I'm afraid of you?" It spat, though the quivering in its voice told her all she needed to know.

"You do: the narrowed pupils, the reserved speech, the way you were sitting so far back in your chair that you almost fell out of it just now," she continued by trying to meet his gaze, only to watch his pupils dart away almost imperceptibly, just enough to avoid making direct eye contact. "You're doing your best to avoid eye contact...combine that with the fact that these restraints were obviously made specifically for alicorns, and I can only conclude that there has been some traumatic encounter between our species in the past."

The creature stared at her, eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. She had to fight to suppress a smile. She didn't get to show off the intellect she'd built up over the centuries often, but when she did, it always left everyone reeling. “Or perhaps you would like to tell me your name?” She asked, knowing what the answer would have to be.

”Holy motherfuck,” the buzzy little voice whispered.

“D-Dave,” he replied, sitting back up in his chair. He was very good at hiding his fear. Supremely good, in fact, keeping his emotions buried with the kind of skill it would take years of training to attain. Assuming, of course, these humans lived for years, like her little ponies. Either way, there was no hiding it from a being that had needed to read the ponies hiding behind titles and lordships that she had dealt with for the past millennium. “My name is…David.”

“David,” she played with the word on her tongue again. “Odd, seemingly meaningless, but then, meaning can always be disguised.”

He said nothing, making it a point to keep staring at her through the glass that wasn’t glass with those cold, fierce eyes, (though never directly into her eyes, she noticed). “Does this place have a name, David? Can you tell me the name of your lands?”

”Go ahead,” the buzzy little voice said.

“You’re on Earth,” he replied. “And as for where on Earth, well, I’m afraid that’s privileged information.”

She frowned, not even bothering to play with that word. Her language already possessed a word just like it for a certain race of ponies: a link she would have to investigate at some other time. She watched patiently as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, light-blue notebook. She squinted at it, seeing a logo that consisted of landmasses and forms she didn't recognize, as well as lettering that was, at once, both totally alien and recognizable. UNCDI? She thought. What in Equestria could that be?

“We have some questions for you, and you are gonna answer them,” he said, his voice stern, but still wavering with that slight tinge of fear amplified by the metal walls.

She shrugged and motioned with a nod for him to continue. “Ask away.”

“What are your intentions with Earth and its populace?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at that, honestly confused. “None. We didn’t even know this place existed until a few hours ago! Or…however long ago it was since you 'procured’ me.”

The human nodded, marking down her choice of words in his notebook. She took the time to evaluate her surroundings. If this human was here, there had to be more, perhaps standing in the shadows, evaluating her every move. She made sure to stand as tall as her bindings would allow, her wings stretching as far as possible to make her already imposing frame appear even larger. She could only hope this would help her.

“Next question,” he said as his pen ceased movement on the little pad of paper. “What do you know about the presence of other alicorns in your Equestria?”

Her teeth clenched, her jawline visibly tightening for only a moment. The names of three of the most important ponies in the world to her rushed through her mind, before she shoved them away. They couldn’t know. She wouldn’t allow them to target the ones she loved. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Other alicorns, you say?”

“Oh?” The human arched an eyebrow, a smug smile crossing his face. Not a mean smile, mind you, but the sort of look one gets that just screams "checkmate."

“And what of the other alicorn we captured? The smaller, purple one?” He asked, that smug smile never leaving his features.

For the first time in over three centuries, Celestia’s heart skipped a beat. A cold finger of dread washed through her body, and she trembled. Whether it was this, or the stress of the past day, or the knock to the head she’d taken when she was first kidnapped, her entire façade came crashing down as her head bowed and she shrieked, “DON’T HURT HER! PLEASE!”

Once again, the human nearly fell out of his chair, his arms and legs splaying out comically in his surprise. He blinked at her a few times as she fought to regain her composure, struggling to retain her stance, then he sat up again, leaning a bit more forward in his chair than he had been. Celestia, for her part, rapidly regained the confident posture and air she had held and switched into damage control as swiftly as possible.

“That pony…is…responsible for quite a few administrative affairs back in the palace,” she said. “I’m just not sure what I’d do without her.” There. Usually, a lie sprinkled with the truth was the most believable. Hopefully, her outburst wouldn’t seal Twilight’s fate as a way for the humans to get to Celestia, because if it had and she’d just doomed her student to Heaven-knows-what torture, that would be it. She would be finished. She wouldn’t be able to stand Twilight’s screams if they were piped into the room, she would give in, she would crack, she couldn’t stand…

Celestia shoved the thought into the back of her mind as the creature nodded. “We will do our best to make sure her internment here is as comfortable as possible,” he said. “And just so you know, that same courtesy will be extended to you.”

Though I have no idea why… he so obviously wanted to say. Oh sure, the fear was still there, but hatred was welling up now. Each moment that passed where she didn’t do anything was, apparently, helping to abate his fear, only for hate to rush right into its place. The way he looked at her now, she felt like the slimiest, most disgusting insect ever seen, crawling across someone’s dinner plate.

Maker above, she thought. As far as she was concerned, this human apparently had two settings: nearly cowering with fear, and visibly trying to imagine how many times he could stab her with his pen before being stopped by the other humans waiting nearby. But why!? What could ponies have done that might be so terrible!?

“Next question,” the human continued, keeping his eyes on the paper as much as possible, if only to remain focused on the task at hand. “What do you know about the process used to force a human to turn into a pony and its negative effects upon the psyche of the affected individual?”

Her frame nearly shrank at that, her façade of power dropping for a heartbeat just in sheer surprise. “What was that?”

His eyes darted to her, then back to the paper. “I said…”

“No, no, I have it,” she replied, studying him closely. “You said you had a way to transform a totally alien creature into a pony?”

His eyes widened, his lips pulling in over his teeth. He looked up at her, then back at the notepad, then back at her, before he all but threw himself out of his chair. “We’re…uh…we’re done here, good day.” He said quickly before heading for the door.

“No, wait, WAIT!” She called after his retreating form, a thousand years’ worth of political wisdom and maneuvering flying out the window as her head spun with questions. “What was that about forcing a human to turn into a pony!?” He didn’t even turn, still barreling for the door.

“What about the other alicorn!? The purple one!? Her name is Twilight Sparkle!” She called, hoping that some small detail would not only satisfy the human’s need for information, but also endear her beloved student to her captors. But still, the human stormed away.

Finally, practically out of cards to play, Celestia desperately screamed: “What did we do that was so terrible!?”

The human stopped abruptly. His hand clenched the pad of paper until his knuckles turned white. That tiny, buzzing voice returned, only now it was just a faint hum from where she stood. After a few minutes of standing there, his back to her, his entire body tensing and relaxing repeatedly, the human spoke, its voice faintly shaking, but with an iron beneath the surface that spoke of a placid ocean surface moments before a predatory shark broke the surface.

“Nothing much,” he said. “Just betrayed our trust, promised us a new era of peace, and then immediately tried to use your incredible powers to wipe us out, except that didn’t work, see? We were smarter than you. So you had to settle for the booby prize.”

“Booby prize?” She asked, unable to keep the tense shake from her own voice. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t respond, just strode right out into the darkness, his shoes tapping against the ground until they faded behind the pneumatic whine of a door somewhere whirring open and slamming shut again. Once again, Celestia was left alone with her thoughts, only now even more questions buzzed through her mind. What did these humans want? What did they mean by a “process” for turning them into ponies? How was that even possible? If she were to be really honest with herself, though, she would know these questions were only there to distract her from the one she needed answered, the one she knew would drive her mad if she wandered about it too long:

What are they doing to Twilight? Oh Maker above…what in Equestria could they possibly want with her?

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David stepped through the door, listened to the pneumatic whirr and hiss of twelve-hundred pounds of titanium steel slide into place, and nearly collapsed onto the floor. As it was, he just barely managed to keep himself supported on his hands and knees, panting like a dog onto the white tile. "Oh God," he gasped as the second door to the airlock whirred open. "Oh Jesus Christ..."

"You did good, kid," Anton said, stepping into the lock and offering his hand, which Dave gladly accepted. "A lot better than most would have."

"I think I'm gonna puke," Dave replied.

"You’re not gonna puke, just sit,” Anton said, motioning for him to enter. As Dave pressed himself back to his feet, consciously reminding himself how to walk, the Russian added, “Oh, before you go in…” he motioned to his ear.

“Right,” Dave reached behind his ear and handed over the little plastic bud. “And thanks for the advice. Probably helped keep my sanity in there.”

The Russian nodded and stood aside to let him pass. Dave walked in on legs that quaked like the San Andreas fault during a meteor shower, but still managed to cross the threshold and reach the plush carpeting of the control room. Once again, he felt oddly comforted by the room, set up more like a living area than some ultra-secret military containment facility. Most of the others were seated in the leather armchairs gathered in a circle around an oak coffee table, arranged before a massive flatscreen TV (which only received CSPAN, CNN, and FOX, he'd checked). Honestly, between the stainless steel fridge stocked with water bottles and fresh fruit, the mahogany conference table that dominated the floor, and the fake wooden paneling along the walls, the only thing that felt out of place was the massive airlock leading into the cell he'd just left and the control panel set in the wall next to it, both of which looked like they'd be more at home at Cape Canaveral than here.

As his stomach settled, the American made a beeline for one of the recliners, ignoring the young Latino man who stood at the control panel, as most in the office were accustomed to doing. He might have noticed the intensity with which the young man glared at nothing in particular, gazing over the dials and knobs and gauges with a look of hatred so intense it would have made Dave do a double-take, but at that moment, Felipe was just another part of the background noise, not even worth looking at until the American could get something soft and expensive between him and the ground.

He collapsed into an empty recliner, sticking a leg up on an armrest as he was so accustomed to doing on his own couch at home. He let his breath out in a long sigh, his eyes closing, his fingers pressing into them. As he sat, Lisa reached over and flicked a little switch on a small speaker box sitting on the table. Dave grimaced. “Didja guys get all that?”

“Every word,” Lisa replied. “As I’m sure the men upstairs did as well.”

“Great,” he groaned, sitting up and letting out another sigh. “I know Anton tried to doll it up a little, so how did I do? Really?”

“You…did not piss yourself. That’s something!” Liu said encouragingly.

“That bad, huh?”

“Maybe, and maybe not,” Anton said, striding over to join the group. “We all heard her reaction to that last question, right?”

“Of course,” Akshat said, his arms and legs crossed as he sat up straight in his armchair. His brow was furrowed with either worry, concentration, or a combination of both. “If we are to believe what we all just heard, this version of Celestia has no knowledge of the crimes of her predecessor.”

“That is a big ‘if’,” Franz put in. “We all know how damned smart she is. She could just as easily be faking.”

Dave closed his eyes again, steadying himself, controlling his breath the way he’d been trained in Basic. His mind circled back to the final moments of the interrogation, highlighting every tiny detail from the blinking of the thermal scanners locked on the prisoner to the way her shoulders rose and fell with each breath. Most of all, he recalled the look of surprise in her widened eyes at the moment he informed her of The Potion, the way her breath paused for a moment, the questions she had asked immediately after. “I don’t know,” he said. “Her reaction seemed genuine.”

“For once, I must agree with my German counterpart,” Andre said, his legs crossed, his chin held thoughtfully in his hand. “Loathe as I am to admit it, the Princess has had over a thousand years to perfect her ability to lie right to our faces. Surely, she could feign surprise well enough to fool us.”

“I still don’t…”

A deep thud, followed by the shattering of glass, cut the conversation short. David’s heart leapt into his chest as, for a terrible moment, he believed that thud had been one of the restraints around the prisoner’s cell giving way, or one of the Tachyon Inhibitors keeping her magic suppressed shorting out. Instead, he turned and found Felipe standing at the control panel, his fist knuckles-deep in one of the glass gauges. Even from where he sat, Dave could see blood sprouting out in tiny streams and dribbles where the shattered glass had broken through skin.

“Oh Felipe, honey, here,” Lisa gasped, springing to her feet and heading for the console.

“Let me take a look at that,” Anton said, striding up next to her as she reached under the panel for the first aid kit. Of course, David didn’t question this. It was standard practice in all NATO ships to have a first aid kit underneath every control panel large enough to hide it, and that Lisa knew this never struck him as odd. He did think it a bit odd to watch Anton gingerly remove Felipe’s closed fist from the shattered display and begin analyzing it with the placid, analytical eye of a combat medic, but he quickly shoved this back as one of those things the Russian was just good at.

“Here,” Anton said flatly, reaching into the kit as Lisa held it open in her arms. “We’re lucky. You didn’t open any veins or tear any muscle tissue. Looks like you just cut open skin over fatty deposits. The damage shouldn’t be that bad.”

For a few moments, Felipe didn’t respond. He just kept studying an empty patch of carpet somewhere off to the side with a tired, vacant look, even as the first painful drops of iodine were squeezed onto his hand. Eventually, he half-mumbled, half-whispered: “The damage is already done.”

The pair kept working as the others fell strangely silent, David included, watching as the last few layers of gauze were wrapped around Felipe's fist. "There we go," Lisa said, giving the wrapping a final pat. "Is that better?"

"Better..." Felipe gazed off into space, his rich, dark eyes locking on to nothing in particular. Lisa's smile faded as the moments crawled by before he finally spoke up again. "She was supposed to be better."

"Who?" Lisa cocked an eyebrow at him, then her gaze drifted to the airlock door. "Oh...you mean...oh, honey."

She smiled and leaned in to wrap her arms around his shoulders, immediately making Dave feel grateful that there was at least one woman in the group. Sexist or not, there was a marked difference between a comforting hug from a woman and the awkward pats on the back from a male friend trying his best to console you in the least homoerotic way possible. “I think we all expected something a bit different from a pretty pony princess from another dimension. Or, at least, something other than genocidal rage.”

Felipe just shook his head, his entire body tensing. "No, she was supposed to be the paragon of light! She was supposed to be the wise ruler of all Equestria! She was supposed to be better than everything and everyone, this wonderful, awesome…this…”

He trailed off, his vacant eyes finally wondering over the airlock, as if trying to memorize every rivet, every ding, the way the light shone off the gray metal, everything he could about the door. "We shouldn’t be standing here, debating whether or not she’s lying to us. None of this should have ever happened. This isn't right...this wasn't..."

Seeing a lull in his tirade, Anton circled around to meet the Brazilian's eyes with what he hoped look like a comforting smile. "My friend, perhaps I should inspect your hand?" Anton pointed at his closed fist. "You're clenching it rather tightly. Perhaps you still feel some pain there?”

Felipe's eyes darted wide open as he cradled the clenched fist to his chest like an infant. He pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“My friend, if you are cut, then we must close the wound,” Anton insisted, reaching for the closed fingers again.

“Not this wound!” Felipe gasped, taking a step back. Everyone in the room gawked at him, and his lips pursed again. “I mean…no, just not now. It’s fine. Really, nothing to be concerned with.”

Anton looked the younger man over, trying to lock eyes with Felipe even as the Brazilian looked side to side, always averting his gaze. He was hiding something; it couldn’t have been more obvious if a question mark tattoo lit with LEDs had appeared in the center of his forehead. Before the Russian could press on, however, the speaker phone in the center of the control panel crackled to life.

Anton kept his gaze on the younger man, still glaring even as the electronic ringing cried out in all their ears. Still keeping his eyes on Felipe, he slowly reached over and pressed the button to activate the speaker. This isn’t over. Far from it. Those eyes said.

Felipe just smiled at him, the death grip on the mysterious object in his hands relaxing. For him, it was.

“Da?” Anton asked.

“I don’t care what the hell happened,” the voice of the Admiral crackled from the other side, distorted by some of the most sophisticated encryption methods on the planet but still easily identifiable to every man and woman in the room. “Somebody talked, and I wanna know who, and I want his or her balls served to me on a silver feckin’ platter come dinner!...Whazzat? Girls don’t have balls? Congratu-fuckin’-lations, Einstein, you want a fuckin’ gold star?”

“Um…hello?” Anton repeated, visibly trying to stifle laughter.

“Fuckin’ hell, almost forgot I called you lot!” The Admiral returned. “Yeah, you got a nice, big surprise headin’ your way, thought I’d give ya a heads up! You’re gonna hafta deal with ‘im, I’ve gotta figure out how in the fuck he found out we’ve got the Solar Princess onboard!”

“He?” Dave stepped away from Felipe, walking up to the speaker. “Sir? Who’s he?”

“Izzat the Yank? Aw hell, it don’t matter: it’s Shining Armor! The fuckin’ Prince of Equestria is headin’ your way right now, and he looks like he’s got a bone to pick with you-know-who! Take a guess as to why! Good luck, you lot!” And then the intercom clicked off.

A stunned silence fell over the room, lasting a solid five minutes. No one talked. No one moved. David felt weird just breathing.

“Well, shit,” Felipe said eventually.

Author's Notes:

At last, I know.

Sorry for the wait on this, guys. It took a while to figure out what I needed here, and then commit it to paper. Hopefully, the next chapters should come more easily

Thank my prereader, DJK, for this :) Without them, I'm not sure if I would have gotten this right.

Chapter VIII: A Royal Arrival

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0615 HOURS
ONBOARD THE HMS ILLUSTRIOUS
NORTH SEA, OFF THE NORWEGIAN COASTLINE, BOUND FOR KARELIA
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Shining Armor pressed his forehead against the porthole, feeling the hum of the chopper blades through the glass, taking in the view of the Illustrious from above and trying to keep his jaw from going slack. Here they were, a species with no magic and no unified ruler, and still they had managed to build the massive supercarrier now filling his view: a floating city capable of housing thousands of them and launching dozens of their fighter aircraft at a moment’s notice! Why, imagine what they might have accomplished if she had allowed them…

Shaking off the encroaching thoughts, Shining Armor returned his attention to the cockpit. “Pilot, how long until landing?” He asked, his Chinese accent thick, though his voice carried a calm, sure tone to it that ensured anyone around him would be instantly intimidated.

“Uh…about five minutes, your highness,” the Royal Navy pilot replied. “We…uh…weren’t expecting such an impromptu visit. Mind me askin’ what it’s about?”

“Yes, in fact, I mind,” Shining replied curtly, his face never leaving that steely neutral.

“Ah. Yes, sir,” the human replied, quickly returning his eyes to the windshield and firmly closing his lips.

Shining Armor returned his gaze to the view, looking out over the water, trying not to think about her, about the past, about the wars fought and the lives lost…so many lives…Flash Sentry…Thunderlane…Cloudchaser...

Twilight…

NO! It was me! It should’ve been me!

Shiney, we have to go! She’ll only be distracted for so long!

It wasn’t enough for you to ruin her life, you had to take it too you evil motherbucking…

Shining! Oh Maker above, your face! She got your…

“Prince Armor?”

Shining awoke from the memory with a grunt and a placid stare back into the cockpit.

“We’ve landed, sir,” the pilot said with a half-hearted, obviously-faked smile. “If you need help reaching the bridge, we can have…”

“No, thank you,” the unicorn replied, shrugging off his harness and stepping out onto the tarmac. “I have it now.”

The pilot nodded as he began the rotor’s shutdown sequence, the whine of the chopper’s engines slowing filled Shining’s ears as he trotted towards the massive structure rising out of the otherwise flat surface of the ship’s flight deck. He cast a final, passive glance over his shoulder and caught an obvious look of relief in the pilot’s face as he trotted away. Welp, looked like he had that "special" effect on someone yet again. The kind that left everyone just waiting for him to leave, begging whoever might be listening that the scary unicorn would go be someone else’s problem. Oh well.

His passing earned a few curious stares from the men still working feverishly on deck, most of them morphing from curiosity to sudden recognition and avoidance. Sure, there was the odd human that would meet his gaze with a smile, but they always saw something, something that made their gazes break off suddenly, the smiles fading. Not that the unicorn royal ever noticed or cared.

He was greeted just outside the bridge’s entrance by a tall man in a uniform, which he recognized as symbolizing the human rank of admiralty. Being former military himself, it was no surprise that he’d taken to learning the customs and hierarchy of human military structure like a fish to water, even if such learning had earned him quite a few black marks back when she was in charge. He made it a point to pause, stand ramrod straight, and salute the Admiral as he approached. “Admiral,” he said curtly.

The Admiral paused, seemed mildly unsure of himself for a split-second, then apparently settled on just a short bow, bending slightly at the hips with his head low. “Your majesty,” he said. “This is…quite the surprise.”

“I am aware,” the Prince replied, stepping past the human and into the hallway, his hooves tapping against metal.

The Admiral could only sigh and follow at Shining Armor’s side. Surprisingly enough, he actually attempted to keep the conversation up. Usually, most people took one look in Shining Armor's eyes and all talk came screeching to a halt. That he kept talking had to be a testament to the old man’s ability to think on his feet. “Might I compliment you on your lingual skills, your majesty? I hear you only started learning English a couple years ago. It has come along quite well.”

“If I am to represent the new Equestria to Earth, I will need to in her multitudes of languages,” the unicorn replied curtly. “Am also learning Spanish, German, French, and Japanese.”

The Admiral froze at the Prince’s words. “Your highness…that last one…it’s kind of…”

“I am aware,” Shining Armor interrupted, still not looking at the Admiral as they walked along, his hooves clacking against the metal in time with the Admiral’s heels. “But we all have a duty to remember what was lost, and as one who took up royalty after…the last one…that duty is mine more than others, bùshì ma?”

The Admiral looked like he was about to say something for a second, but then decided against it. Probably for the better. At any rate, his desire for conversation was apparently slaked, as the pair continued the rest of the trip in silence, the only sound being the occasional spillover from one of the dozens of control rooms and bunkers spaced throughout the structure, and the tapping of their heels on the metal floor. All this left Shining in a place he knew only far too well: with his own thoughts. It wasn’t so bad there. At least, not as bad as it used to be, back in the days after the war’s end…

His secretary, Cadence, looked up at him, her eyebrows raised, her jaw agape. He panted, his heart racing, hooves shaking, yet he didn’t know why. Around him, his senators and governors all stared, the less brave ones suddenly focusing on the salads before them. He looked down at his quivering hooves and noticed indentations where they had hit, a blackened scorch mark tracing the entire table’s length, leading to the vacant spot at its head.

“I…I just wanted to know how you were coping with your sister’s loss…” the pony next to him said quietly, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Shining Armor grimaced as he forced yet another memory back down. That had been a full-fledged image this time, not just a snippet of dialogue! Ugh, he was not going to do this now, he hadn’t gone through all that therapy on top of his royal duties just to slide back now, at a moment as important as this!

“Your Highness?” The Admiral asked, an eyebrow arched questioningly.

“Headache,” Shining replied, lowering his hoof back to the ground as he continued walking.

“Ah,” the Admiral nodded, picking up the pace now that the pony had all four hooves on the ground again. “Stress of the job, I understand.”

No, Shining Armor thought. No, you really don’t. “We almost there?”

“Almost,” the Admiral led him to the elevator and began the process of opening the secret lift, tapping in the absurdly-long code without even looking, his fingers working on muscle memory. “We have a UNCDI team with Target Alpha already. They should be interrogating her as we speak.”

Shining Armor’s hooves quaked, though not from fear. This was the same quake that his hooves had held all those years ago. Something deep, dark, and primeval rose up in his chest, filling his very being, awakening parts of his soul most ponies (and even some humans) had forgotten they’d possessed. “I guess I arrive at right time?” He asked, his accent coming through thicker than ever.

The Admiral said nothing, but spared a tiny smile for the young royal. “I guess you did.”

“UNCDI, so one Chinese?” Shining Armor asked.

“Yes, so he should be able to act as a translator should you grow tired of practicing your English,” the Admiral stepped aside as the wall slid open. He waved a hand, ushering the unicorn in. “They should be able to let you in, at any rate.”

“Thank you,” Shining replied as he stepped into the car. “I thank you for your hospitality, Admiral. I understand my visit a bit…unexpected.”

“Not at all, your majesty,” the Admiral said, a small ounce of pride entering his smile. “We’re military men! We adapt to the situation, isn’t that right?”

Shining, she’s gone! You’re just gonna have to accept that! Just put down the knife, please, put down …

“Very true, Admiral. Have a good day,” Shining said, only somewhat aware of the ice that had entered his voice.

The Admiral’s smile flickered. “Yes, um…you too, sir.”

Nodding, Shining entered the elevator alone, sighing with relief the moment the doors whisked shut behind him. He took a moment to rub at his scar, massaging his eye with a hoof. The damn thing always hurt when the past started popping up in his mind. Fortunately, that’s why he’d grown used to forcing those memories back down, forgetting them for at least a little while until…yep, there we go. The pain was gone already.

A few minutes later, the doors whirred open. Two men stood in the doorway to greet him, one a thinner man of the Asian race with narrow-framed glasses, the other a somewhat more stout Caucasian man with just a bit of gray appearing in the hair at his temples.

“Your majesty,” the older man said in an accent so obviously Russian it might as well have been swilling vodka and calling everyone “comrade.” Both men bowed at the waist, keeping their heads high.

”{Your majesty,}” the Asian replied in his familiar Han Chinese. ”{I am Liu Guo with the People’s Republic of China. This is my associate, Anton Beloglazov of the Russian Federation}.”

“{It’s a pleasure,}” Shining Armor replied simply. Now was the time to utilize his skills as a diplomat, another thing he’d developed out of necessity. ”{I believe I shall stick with Chinese for the rest of this trip. I know most of you speak the language of the nation you are based in, but I’m more comfortable with this tongue. If your associates don’t mind, of course.}”

“{Oh, of course not, sir, whatever makes you more comfortable,}” Liu replied. {“Do tell us, though: to what do we owe the honor of this visit?}”

“{I am here to take part in the interrogation of Target Alpha,}” he replied simply and curtly, making note of the quick flickers of dread that momentarily washed over the human’s face. Anton saw the look and immediately grimaced. They must have known this was why he was here, but still, hearing it spoken with such affirmation obviously hit them like a slap in the face. Oh well.

“{Sir, with all due respect, this is…}”

“{Just another part of our attempts to build relations with humanity,}” Shining replied, stepping right past the pair. “{Of course, as a foreign dignitary, you could get action from the UN General Assembly to stop me. That should only take, what, six months?}”

Though he didn’t show it, Shining Armor was beaming on the inside. He might never acquire the level of political skills his predecessor had, loathe as he was to admit, but damned if he didn’t like to think of himself as a quick study.

Both humans were visibly struggling to maintain their grins. “{Of course, sir, we’ll look into that. In the meantime, I take it you wish to see her?}” The Chinese man said through gritted teeth.

“{Of course,}” Shining replied, motioning for him to lead the way.

The Chinese man mechanically pulled an about-face and walked down the hallway, his light stride suggesting an internal grace that Shining couldn’t quite place, but admired nonetheless. It didn’t take long for him to reach a small room that he might have confused for a living room had it not been for the massive control panel and the airlock along one wall. Keep your back to that wall, and you might just forget what was being contained here. Four other humans lounged in high-end recliners until he walked in, when they all promptly leapt to their feet and bowed. Shining nodded his acknowledgement, but it was obvious his mind was going to the window long before his body actually reached it.

The Prince gazed at the glass on one of the readout gauges, ignoring the one with the shattered face. His partial reflection was just visible enough to show the line of scar tissue running down the side of his face and the glimmer of the bejeweled magic suppressor on his horn. He glanced at it, smiling knowingly as the humans chatted behind him:

“You sure about this?” One voice whispered. Male. American. Mid-to-late twenties.

“Well, he does have his suppressor on, what’s the worse he could do?” Female. British. Twenties as well.

The knowing smile spread across his face into a savage grin. You’d be surprised, he thought as his focus left his reflection and went to the airlock. What would she look like, he thought? Like her counterpart under lock and key in that Russian hellhole? Or perhaps she would be a little bit roughed up? He certainly hoped it was the latter. He wasn't sure if he could control his temper if she looked at him with that same disgustingly haughty stare, the one she had used so often when addressing her little ponies (a nickname that sent shivers up his spine), or when...

You dare question your Princess!?

I do when her actions reveal what an evil, genocidal pile of horse-apples she is!

Traitor! Trait…

“Your majesty?”

Shining Armor blinked, instantly banishing the memory from his mind. He could see the reflection of the Russian standing just behind him, again just barely visible. The older man looked down at him with a mixture of concern and deep fear. “Are you alright?”

Shining Armor looked at the bound Princess before him, drinking in the despondent, worried look in her vermillion eyes. “Yes,” he replied, a tiny smile playing at his lips. “Yes, I am.”

The human smiled, and though there was warmth to it, Shining could sense the growing unease buried underneath it. The human didn’t like him being here, and he really didn’t like that he was about to walk into the holding cell practically unsupervised. Oh well.

“As you may have already learned, the Princess arrived with prior knowledge of the English language,” the Russian said. “Just like with you, it appears as though the magical anomaly that produced the initial bridge between worlds allows the ponies on the other side to communicate in the most commonly-spoken language in the region where the portal appears. I’m afraid this means you will not be able to communicate in your native human tongue.”

“My English has improved,” Shining Armor said.

“As I noticed, sir. Now,” rather suddenly, one of the Russian’s large hands landed on Shining Armor’s shoulder and gave a good, firm squeeze, catching the unicorn completely off-guard. To say he wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt gesture during his time here would be an understatement. He would have found it more likely to arrive on-deck in the midst of an alien invasion being led by his secretary than to receive any sort of emotional support during his stay. And yet here it was. And that bitch wanted to wipe them out...God damn her...

“Are you sure about doing this?” The human asked.

Shining shrugged his hand off in a heartbeat. “Very. Open the door.”

The Russian looked down at the Prince sadly, dejectedly reaching over and pressing the small, red button to open the hatch leading into the cell. As the cell door slid open, titanium bars and Tachyon containment fields sliding out of place, it hit Shining that the Russian’s sadness was probably the only genuine emotion he had seen on anyone all day, pony or human. Hell, if he looked back, he might be able to extend that to all week! A week without genuine, emotional contact, and he hadn’t even noticed!

Oh well.

Author's Notes:

From this point on, dialogue in brackets {} are in a language other than English. The italics was getting a little confusing.

The just normal stuff in italics: big blocks of text like this, are Shining's memories. So there.

Chapter IX: A Royal Assault

Celestia released her breath in a long, drawn-out exhale through her nostrils. There had been much to absorb and consider, but she figured she had the main points nailed down.

#1: She had been kidnapped by a bipedal alien race known as “humans,” which while lacking in magic, appeared to possess an incredibly high level of scientific technology and an emotional spectrum similar to her ponies’, albeit one a bit more darker and angrier than she was used to.

#2: These “humans” had encountered another version of Equestria, perhaps even containing another version of her (though that was pure speculations), at some point in the recent past, and the results were so traumatizing that it had led them to attack her version of Equestria immediately upon first contact.

#3: She was being held on the basis of these horrific events, which might somehow involve turning them into more ponies, which may not have been so bad, but if done on a large enough scale…

She frowned behind her closed eyelids. Her observational skills had allowed her to gather much more than most other ponies would have during her brief encounter with the humans, but it still wasn’t enough, not even close. She still had no idea of the nature of this “other” Equestria’s crimes or how bad they were, much less how to even begin convincing the humans that her intentions were peaceful. Of course, she also didn’t know the status of Twilight, Shining Armor, or any of the other ponies that had been gathered at that field around the portal to the human world, or if there had been further attacks, but she kept her mind away from those possibilities. There was no possible way to glean any information about those topics as it stood now, and thinking about it would just have her worrying about what could have happened to the ponies who meant most to her in the world. Thank the Maker Luna wasn’t at the field, thank everything that might be listening she hadn’t been there, because if she had been then having her and Twilight possibly in danger might just be enough to break her, and she couldn’t bear that, she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she..

Celestia bit her lip, fighting back a few stray tears. No matter how much it pained her, she couldn’t concern herself with the others now. That knowledge was simply out of her grasp, no matter how hard she tried to reach for it. She had to remain relaxed, focus on what she did know, and try to formulate a plan of action from there. That was all she could do now.

“Alligator tears, Princess?” A wonderfully familiar voice said.

“Captain Armor!” She gasped, her eyes bolting wide open, hope swelling in her heart. “What are…you…”

She trailed off as she got a good look at the little, alabaster unicorn standing before her in a handsome suit coat covered in brass buttons, and with a bejeweled ring adorning his horn. At first glance, it was her beloved former captain-turned-prince of the Crystal Empire, but a moment’s inspection allowed her to process the jagged scar running over one of his eyes, turned milky-white by its presence. And there was more. Centuries of politics had sharpened her ability to read ponies even further than her observational skills, and what she saw in this unicorn was nothing short of pain beyond any sort of measure. Here was a stallion who had spent many a sleepless night wailing into his pillow, screaming for what had been lost. Here was a stallion who, at some point, had longed for death. Here was a stallion who had visited the deepest chasms of suffering that any sapient being could endure, and still wasn’t quite all the way back.

“Dearest Maker above, Captain, what happened to you?” She gasped, completely forgetting all manner of decorum and political maneuvering in the shock of finding this shattered shell of a stallion in her little glass cell, having apparently sneaked in without her noticing.

The unicorn allowed the smallest grin to perk up one corner of his mouth. He exhaled shakily in a way that she might have confused with a snicker if she’d been sleep deprived or not really paying attention. “You of all ponies should know, Princess,” he said in an accent she couldn’t quite place and a tone that she could, but wished she couldn’t. “After all, you’re the one who did it.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. “Wh-wh-what?”

“Oh, come, you always enjoyed looking at what you did,” Shining replied, stalking up to her with that creepy non-smile on his face. “Remember those stained glass windows you had in palace? Smiting Discord? Crushing last changeling hive? The crusades into Gryphon territories? All such great achievements you had immortalized in those damn windows.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes over to her, his head cocked at a crazy angle. “Of course, they’re gone now. Shattered when the bombs fell. So I guess all you have left now is me,” he closed the distance between them, teeth bared, nostrils flaring, thrusting his face into her eyes. A single, sweaty lock of blue hair dangled over his face, swinging between them as he took her face in his hooves and forced her to look at him. “Take a good look, Princess! Aren’t you proud? Do I get a window too!?”

“I…Shining, I…” there was no keeping the tears back now. They welled up in her eyes, dribbled down her cheeks. She tried to back away, but the metal cuffs encasing her legs barely allowed her even an inch of movement. All she could do was stand there and whimper.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Not as pretty as your windows?” The unicorn tsked, shaking his head in mock sadness. "Too bad, because you're stuck here."

Suddenly, his hooves squeezed together, pressing into her cheeks. "Where you fucking belong!" Then one of his hooves reared back and delivered a blow to the side of her face. Celestia cried out in pain and surprise. She wanted to sink to her knees, but of course the metal restraints kept her standing upright. She could only stand there and take it as the unicorn whaled on her, over and over again, earning a new cry of pain with each hit.

"Now, I know what you thinking, the humans help, right? They will help soon, Geneva Convention, all that, but bad news," he cradled her chin in a hoof, running the other hoof over the jeweled band on his horn. "This not my suppressor. Is a cheap replica I made."

He stepped to the side, gesturing to the door, which glowed with the obvious, pink hue of his magic. She would know it anywhere, just like she could take one look at the sick way that hue crackled unstably and popped along the edges with barely-controlled power and know that the pony behind it was not right with himself. Voices boomed from the other side, the humans probably throwing themselves at the door, but she knew what the unicorn was capable of. It would take an army throwing itself against the steel for a month to get through that.

Her eyes drifted back to him, at the bags under his eyes and the way he grit his teeth when he looked at her, and she wanted to burst into tears, disregarding the pain rippling down the side of her face. "Maker above, Shining, Maker above."

"Yes, cry! Cry for god!" His hoof lashed out again, catching her on the chin. "Cry out just like I did when you finished with me!" Another blow, this time across the bridge of her nose, stars appearing in her eyes. And again, he held her face to scream right into it: "Cry to some nonexistent thing just like I did every night after you killed my Twily!"

That hit her harder than anything he possibly could have done. Her swollen, stiff jaw dropped, her throat seizing. Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled with tears, turning into shimmering, vermillion pools locking with his. "Wh-what?" She managed to squeak.

That threw him for a loop. Shining Armor looked confused, uncertain for the briefest moment. He looked around, as if all the answers might be on an inspirational poster tacked up someplace in the room, then his gaze fell back to her. It hardened again, and he advanced, glaring at her with every single fiber of hatred he could gather up from the deepest, darkest places within himself. He held the point of his horn against her throat.

"I could do it right now," he said simply, keeping his horn pressed to her throat. "It would be easy. Wouldn’t kill you, we know, but it would be fun watching you choke on your own blood for a while, gasping for air while your throat healed, trying to grasp at the injuries in agony, begging for some way to breathe again as you drowned on your own blood."

It was no surprise to anyone that the Prince was suddenly so eloquent. He had probably spent months on end daydreaming about this moment, planning out what he would say down to the last syllable. And now, here it was, the moment he had been waiting for. The humans might as well have been on the other side of the planet for all they mattered. To him, they were barely even a light tapping coming from someplace far off. To him, all that existed was the princess, his horn, and the steady crackle of magic building up within himself. Celestia knew how right he was: it would be easy. She could feel the magical energies building up, he was just holding them back now, working up the courage to simply let it go.

She couldn’t help it. The pain she saw in one of her closest friends, the implication of what she had done to her beloved student, it was too much. A choked-off sob filled the room, echoing off the plate metal. The walls finally broke down, and tears flowed from Celestia’s eyes, dribbling down her chin, rolling onto Shining’s horn. She hated herself for a moment then, showing so much weakness, but the pain inside the unicorn was palpable. She could actually taste it in the room, almost feel it radiate from his every motion, every single word he spoke. It was enough to make most who could feel it break down, but then, there was the implication of why that pain was there.

Twilight. Dear Maker above, Twilight…

“I-I’m so sorry, Shining,” she sobbed, hating herself for sounding like a little filly after being scolded but unable to stop herself. The words came dribbling from her mouth almost as fast as the tears rolled down her cheeks, squeezing out her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“You fucking aren’t!” He screamed, his voice cracking mid-sentence. Steeling himself again, he pressed the horn even deeper into her throat. When he spoke again, it was with an eerie calm: “At least, not yet…”

They stood like that for a solid minute, though it might as well have been an eternity. Just the Prince and the Princess, one absolutely ready to kill the other. Who knows how long they might have stayed like that, or what course Shining Armor might have chosen, if it hadn’t been for one, good thud from the other side of the door.

Shining dispersed his magic and looked over his shoulder. Then, with a sinister little half-smile, he turned back to her. “I wish to continue this…line of discussion Princess, I really do,” he nodded to the door. “But then, I doubt they let me see you again after, even with my status. So just let me leave you with this…”

The unicorn took her cheeks in his hooves and squeezed, tears soaking into the keratin as he gripped her face and stared sadistically into her eyes. This time when he spoke, his words were garbled by his own emotion, though their meaning was still as clear as ever:

“You. Ours. Now.”

And then he left. Just like that, he turned around and trotted back out the door, which finally swung open. Immediately, one of the humans rushed in, this one with another tuft of fuzz on its chin, though she couldn’t even see through the tears blocking her vision. She barely even watched as the human tackled the unicorn and dragged him back out, screaming ”Chyort,” over and over again as he rushed the little white body out of the cell. Somehow, she still sensed the maniacal smile Shining kept on her the entire time he was being dragged away.

“Maker above, Shining,” she whispered. “What happened here!?”

Chapter X: The Bureaucracy

Anton burst through the door, the limp, white form in his arms not even moving as he stumbled across the plush carpeting. Everyone immediately leapt into action, the others moving with the sort of precision usually reserved for military maneuvers.

“Get him to the couch! Get him to the couch!” Lisa screamed as she slammed the door behind the large Russian man holding the unicorn in a bear hug.

In a flash, Anton darted across the room and threw the unicorn over one of the sofas, where Akshat and Franz swiftly pinned his hooves down. “His suppressor! Somebody get a real one!”

David reached under the control panel on reflex, pulling out an emergency kit. Thank God that’s the same on British ships as it is American, he thought, actually grateful as he rushed the kit over to the couch, sliding on his knees next to Shining like a kid sliding into third base. He flipped the metal clasps on the kit as he went. By the time he reached the couch, his hand was already darting into a pile of gauze and assorted bandages and retrieving the small, round tube that had become standard in emergency kits on every military ship since the days of the Collision Wars.

“Put it on! Put it on!” Akshat screamed, never minding the fact that Shining was just lying there, not even struggling, always looking up with that placid neutral look on his face. With a cry of victory, David slammed the tube down on Shining’s horn, right over the fake piece of jewelry. Finally, the humans backed off, standing away from the Equestrian Prince.

They all watched and waited, their breaths all stopping in their throats when Shining sat up. He looked up at the new horn accessory and gave it a good tap, then he looked at the humans all staring down at him. Finally, he did the creepiest thing he could think of at that moment: he smiled. “Yep. It on their good. Well done, everyone. You took care of big, dangerous pony.”

Somehow, that little smile and light tone of voice was even worse than if he'd leapt at them, teeth gnashing and hooves flailing. The group eyed one another warily. Despite Shining's attempts at a reassuring smile, nobody made any moves to close the distance between them, leaving a nice, wide circle around the unicorn. At one point, Akshat looked over to his Chinese counterpart and motioned with a nod quick of his head. Liu replied with a quick glance over at the Prince, followed by a glare back at Akshat while mouthing the words "fuck that shit." Akshat glared right back. The two kept it up until Liu inevitably realized they simply couldn't leave things as they were and stepped up.

"{Well, your highness,}" he said, still with that winning, political smile. "{This has been an...interesting experience for us all, don't you think?}"

"{It has,}" Shining Armor replied, climbing down off the couch. "{Now, may we go see the other prisoner?}"

The grin froze on Liu's face, his shock at the Prince even knowing about the other prisoner transforming into instant dismay. Though they didn't understand what had been said, the others' collective mood plummeted. Despite his political face, they could all tell when Liu was trying to digest something less than appetizing, be it Lisa's attempt at a birthday cake (in her defense, the eggs hadn’t looked spoiled when she’d used them for the batter) or some terrible news. It took a collective effort worthy of a WWI-era sapper squad going up against an enemy machine gunner, but the group somehow managed to keep up their smiles for the Prince, even if they were about as transparent as a well-polished pane of glass. "{A respectable wish, sir, though I'm not sure it would be terribly appropriate for...}"

"{Come now, I am a visiting dignitary, one with special UN status,}" Shining Armor said placidly, finally rising to his hooves. Still smiling that wretched, pale smile, he surveyed the group as he spoke. "{Surely you are not going to hold visiting royalty responsible because a door got stuck? Unless, of course, you have proof that it was somehow being held in place by my actions?}"

Liu grinned, every single one of his teeth becoming visible all at once. "{Actually, your majesty, I was more concerned with the way you assaulted a prisoner of the UNCDI in front of a half-dozen witnesses from an assortment of different countries, all of whom are UN-certified diplomats, and all of whom are starting to grow a little bit tired of your behavior since boarding this ship,}” he hissed, and in an instant, Shining saw something new in the young Chinese man. He saw a fire in his eyes that had been missing before, something that took the proper provocation to ignite. Chen clenched his teeth, and all at once, Shining took a step back, a hint of fear rising in his features as a brand new fire flared up in the human’s features, only tempered by an incredible willpower the small pony had rarely seen before. All of a sudden, they were not diplomat and royal, but human and little pony, staring one another down, and much to Shining’s own surprise, the unicorn blinked.

Then his initial shock faded and Shining returned the step. The fear in his eyes was replaced with something nobody in the room could have expected: happiness. Finally, here, right here in front of him, was the species that destroyed the Solar Tyrant! He grinned at the sight, nearly shedding a tear. It’s incredible, he thought, allowing an extra moment to admire the rage just oozing off Chen’s slender form before making his reply.

"{Ah,}" Shining Armor said, meeting the human’s eyes. ”{I see. Then I take it you already have a subpoena from the global courts asking me to answer for my actions? You know that is the only thing that can stop someone of UN-Special-Administrative status from…}”

“{I am aware of the UN doctrine!}” Chen spat, his breath heaving. Suddenly, he paused, rubbed his eyes, took a few steps back, and when he looked up again, he had some semblance of normalcy back on his face. Sure, his teeth still ground audibly together in frustration, and his eyes practically bugged out of his skull, but still, he managed to keep something on his face that one might confuse for a smile, if they turned their head and squinted hard enough. “{No, in fact, we do not.}”

Once again, the mood fell amongst the group. The Prince had taken to learning politics like a fish took to water, it seemed. To them, the little pony left devastated, alone, and requiring a twenty-four hour suicide watch was long gone. In his place stood a coldly intelligent royal that had just backed a half-dozen UN-certified diplomats into a corner with little more than a bit of knowledge of UN protocols and a title as an international VIP. “{While we wait for that subpoena, why don’t we pay our other guest a visit?}” He asked, a malicious smile spreading across his lips.

“{Do we have any say in this?}”

“{No.}”

“{Then she is right this way, your highness,}” the Chinese man spat, those last couple words practically shooting out of his mouth with all the venom he could muster. He gestured to the open doorway leading back out to the hall.

”{I will lead the way, I think,}” Shining Armor said as he pushed his way past the human, ushering him out of the way gently, but with a firm touch. “{While I was walking down here, I took the opportunity to memorize the layout of this place as best as I could. I would rather like to put that knowledge to the test.}”

“{Of course,}” Liu replied, dismay obvious in his tone. “{Because who are we to refuse such a simple request from a visiting royal of our allies in Equestria?}”

As the pair left with Shining walking ahead of Chen, the humans remaining in the control room assumed expressions ranging from dismay to utter frustration. With the prince in the lead, their last hope of guiding him in circles until the UN General Assembly could be reached had been crushed.

“Can’t we stop him?” Someone whispered once they thought Shining was out of earshot (they thought wrong, of course. Humans always did underestimate pony hearing). “There must be something!”

“Special Equestrian national status,” another whisper replied. “As a UN-administrated disaster zone, their officials have every right to be here that we do. Y’know, like what the Japs got?”

“Who the hell would approve that!?”

“The general assembly looking to alleviate their guilty consciences, that’s who.”

Liu watched and felt a small knot in his stomach twist as Shining’s victorious little smile morphed into a victorious little grin. Though he could still be glad that he and the manipulative little quadruped weren’t enemies just yet, he could see how this unicorn had stood in open defiance against Celestia’s reign for so long, even after his army had been crushed and he’d been forced to flee into the wilderness with the Solar Tyrant herself at his hooves and his sister’s death weighing on his heart.

Knowing this, it took an exceeding amount of courage and more than a few minutes of walking for Liu to speak. ”{You should know, your highness, that I will most definitely be able to protect you should this prisoner prove more violent than the last.}”

“{Oh?}”

“{Yes. In fact, I would like to say that I am more capable unarmed than even my Russian counterpart who seized you back in the cell, and should another…’incident’ arise…}” he trailed off, searching for something, and spying a loose tuft of hair drifting off the back of the Prince’s mane. Without another word, his hand darted out, seized the stray hair, tore it loose with a flick of his wrist, and presented it in front of the royal pony’s face, all in the same span of time most people took to blink. “{Let’s just say I will not only be able to handle myself, but you as well. Especially now that I know your magic is restrained. Do you understand?}”

“{Of course,}” Shining Armor regarded the human with a cocky little smile. ”{However, with my Royal Guard training and experience in the Equestrian underground, I doubt you will have to worry much about me.}”

Liu scowled, flicking the hair over his shoulder. ”{Five years is a long time to be away from combat.}”

Burn them! Burn the rebels, my beautiful Newfoals! Crush them beneath your hooves! Spare none and…

Shining Armor forced the memory back down, disguising his grimace of displeasure with a cough and a grunt to clear his throat. “{Not as long as you might think,}” he rasped, thumping his chest a few times to add to the show. "{Now, what's so special about this other prisoner?}"

"{She's another alicorn, your majesty.}"

Shining paused mid-step and gazed up at the human incredulously, his eyes wide, his jaw agape. For a second, Liu saw the pony that had grown up with a little lavender unicorn, pretending to be her mount as they rushed off to save some generic fantasy princess from the clutches of an evil monster. Then his initial shock wore off and Shining's ice-cold facade returned at full force. "{Damn her,}" he mumbled. "{And she said she was the only one in existence. God damn her.}"

Liu smiled tiredly at him. "{Is lying about her origins and telling everyone she is the only alicorn to have ever existed really her worst crime?}"

"{No, far from it,}" Shining conceded. "{It's just that every time we think we've seen the depths of her evil, every time we think we've uncovered all her wicked machinations, she discovers a new low to which she can plummet. May I have a pad of paper? I would like to know about this new alicorn.}”

Thanking God for a way to change the subject, Liu reached into his back pocket and handed the prince a pencil and pad of paper, both stamped with the UN’s logo. "{So, here's what we know: she is another alicorn, princess status, only recently ascended into her role.}"

"Mmh-hmm," Shining said, absentmindedly jotting things down on the pad with the weak flicker of magic the suppressor allowed him.

"{Female, of course. Aptitude for magic, resident of Ponyville, though she was apparently raised under the Princess's tutelage as a filly.}"

"{Big surprise there,}" Shining snorted. "{The bitch probably saw her power and had her brought in to be turned into her own little toy.}"

"{That would make sense,}" Liu said. "{However, from what I've gathered from the transcripts of our interviews with her, she at least appears to be a bright, happy little pony with an appetite for learning. She asked us for a book of human history the moment she first saw one of our faces!}"

Suddenly, Shining Armor did something so utterly unexpected, Liu wouldn’t have been more shocked if the Prince had pulled off his face and revealed that he was a robot clone sent from the future: he gave a loud snort of laughter. "{Really!?}" He gasped.

"{Y-yes,}" Liu said, staring at the Prince warily, as if the snort was an indication that the Prince's head was about to crack open and reveal a flying saucer.

"{Sorry, sorry, my apologies,}" Shining snorted, an odd spark in his eye and a lightness to his tone that Liu would have said was pleasant if it had come from anyone else. The unicorn looked up at his human companion, that smile still teasing at the corners of his eyes as the pair stepped through a final set of double doors and into another control room. "{What you just described to me sounds so much like something my...}"

"BBBFF?" A little voice called from inside the room.

Shining Armor looked up. The pencil dropped from his grasp. He didn't pick it up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
0620 HOURS
TOP SECRET UNITED NATIONS MAXIMUM SECURITY FACILITY
{CLASSIFIED}, {CLASSIFIED}, RUSSIAN FEDERATION
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Corporal Bessonov was not a happy man. But then, who would be after being pulled out of bed right after a twelve-hour night shift? He had literally just stepped out of the shower and was about to turn in when the call came in. He had to go down to the “Brickhouse,” as the men under him affectionately referred to their station, not even an hour after leaving for the day shift to take over!

I swear, if that damn yank blew up firecrackers in the men’s room again, I’ll tear his balls off and mail them to his mother, he thought, a small flicker of anger burning away at the bottom of his sleep-deprived mind. Oh sure, PFC Kowalski meant well enough. Lord knows they all needed a break from the pressing knowledge of what they were guarding every now and again, and his antics served as a much-needed release for the men. Even that super-strict Chinese guy they had with them cracked a smile whenever Kowalski was around. That didn’t do much for an aging Russian military man who had gone the last thirty-six hours without sleep, though. Right then, he was wondering if Kowalski's balls should be sautéed or fried.

He stepped into the control room, making the final adjustments to his uniform coat. As expected, the room was packed to the brim with computer equipment and rows of desks, each one seating some desk jockey from Intelligence hunched over his keyboard. Also as expected, the oak conference table dominating the rear of the room was surrounded with each of the UNCDI reps: a soldier from every nation on the new permanent Security Council. What wasn't expected, however, was the horrible unease that filled the air as he stepped in. Instead of talking jovially, the group gathered around the table was busy staring grimly at one another, some with mugs of barely-touched lukewarm coffee in their hands. Instead of working diligently on personal projects or, more commonly, playing Starcraft at their desks, the Intelligence people were all pouring over reams of data scrolling across their screens. When they weren't yelling barely-decipherable jargon across the room at each other, that is.

Bessonov grimaced. He had heard of the terrible events of the past twenty-four hours, and knew they might have some impact on his duties here eventually, but he had still hoped that his little slice of the world might carry on as always for yet a little while longer. Let the Brits and the Norwegians spend their nights worrying, Bessonov was just an old man looking forward to retirement.

Adjusting his cap out of habit, the Colonel strode up to the oak table, noting that each and every man there was in full uniform: an odd sight for such a usually laid-back group, and not one he was sure he particularly liked. "{Tennn-SHUN!}" He barked, and despite the shocked, trance-like look on all their faces, each man stood up from the table as a single unit, one standing so fast that his chair upended itself and clattered to the floor. Again, as nice as this newfound dedication was, there was still something positively wretched about it, something too Children of the Corn for Bessonov's tastes.

“{At ease!}” He announced, and the group sat back in their chairs, all sitting bolt-upright, all staring back at him with the wide-eyed, shocked look of children just learning that there was no Santa Clause. Bessonov’s grimace deepened. He had seen that look on men before, both on the battlefield and off, and each time he had wanted to slap it right off their faces. ”{Does anybody wish to explain to me why I am standing here, tolerating your faces when I should be at home in bed?}”

“{Sir,}” Kowalski rasped. ”{Don’t you hear it?}”

Bessonov turned to the American, and his heart sank. For the first time in memory, a look other than stupid cheerfulness filled the American’s eyes. This look was haunted, wretched-looking, the sort of thing you would see on a man when the enemy had him surrounded and all hope for reinforcements was miles away. ”{Hear what, Private?}” He asked, more gently this time.

Kowalski’s only response was to hold a finger to his lips and gaze upwards. The Russian sealed his lips and closed his eyes, trying to listen past the general bedlam of the computer room behind them. He rested his hands on the table, and that was when he felt it. An unsteady, halting sort of pulse, like a diseased heart going into palpitations. Once he knew what he was listening for, he finally heard it in the air, something coming from the long, metal hallway at the head of the room, marked off with yellow and black stripes. He felt it more than heard it, but it was still there, hanging in the air like gas.

”{What is it?}” He asked, dreading the answer.

”{It’s her, sir,}” Chen this time, his hands massaging his temples. Without another word, he reached over to the wood-paneled intercom box on the table and pressed the little red button on its front grill.

A light blinked on, and the room filled with the most terrifying laughter Bessonov had ever heard in his life. The haunting chortle flooded their ears, sounding like a combination of some evil queen in a kid’s movie and a madwoman locked in the deepest bowls of an asylum. The Russian stood ramrod-straight, held erect by the fear lighting up his entire spine. One of the techs collapsed at their computer screen, hammering their fists into their ears.

After a few minutes with the wicked laughter drowning out all other noise in the room, Bessonov raised his voice, hoping it sounded braver than he felt. “{Princess?}” He called, leaning over the intercom. “{Princess, what’s so funny?}”

All at once, the laughter stopped, dying down into an occasional giggle. The Russian bit the inside of his cheek until he felt blood seep into his mouth. The silence between chortles fell as a deafening pulse on every man’s ears as they all waited, their breaths held, their bodies remaining firm as every muscle in them tensed.

"{He sees her!}" The ragged, maniacal voice on the other end of the line exclaimed with barely-contained glee. For a horrible moment, the Russian believed he might be hearing an enthusiastic school girl talk about some new celebrity pairing. Then he remembered what was down there and that thought sent shivers racing up his spine, coupled with a wave of nausea through his stomach. "{He sees what he can never have again, and it's killing him!}"

Bessonov hammered a finger into the call button, allowing those tinny, humming sounds to echo back up the halls without the monitoring system to clarify them. He really preferred it when he hadn't known what they were. "{Sir?}" Mui asked, visibly shaken by the sounds. "{What did she mean by all that? Who's he?}"

"{For the sake of your sanity, Lieutenant,}" the Russian replied, working like hell to keep the fearful quiver from his voice. "{I pray that we never find out.}”

Author's Notes:

And we finally see Xenolestia in her natural habitat. Scaring the piss out of everyone around her. WOOT!