//------------------------------//
// 36. Peaceful Measures - Part I 
// Story: Millennia: Eye of the Storm 
// by Thunderblast 
//------------------------------//

"It is a... wonderful sight, no?" commented a greyscale earth pony, voice painted with a timbre of Balkan origin, fitted impeccably in a jet-black suit and tie, a snow-white undershirt, and greyish-white sleeve cuffs around his hooves. The amber of his sights gazed out the starboard oval window of the aircraft, just a few rows ahead of the engine and the wing it was mounted to.

The plane was on a descent from cruising altitude, having redirected far north of the original flight path to avoid a massive storm system over the ocean east of Equestria's coast. The deviation brought them over the far northeast coast where, from their height at the time, the snow-capped peaks of the north country were visible to the naked eye only behind thin strands of clouds, as well as much of the coast for a hundred miles north of Manehattan, especially past Alderneigh.

To his left, across the center aisle, relaxed a brass unicorn, politely and cautiously sipping a cup of hot espresso with the aid of a magical field surrounding the handle, as well as simultaneously reading a booklet encased in fine leather that contained crucial information of the mission ahead. "Gorgeous," he replied, unwavering his focus for not even a moment.

A thin smile, narrowly noticeable up close, pursed the lips of the greyscale stallion as he studied the coastal land below. He took in a breath, letting it off quietly yet audibly in the form of a contented sigh. "It has been far too long since my eyes set on this wonderful nation."

"Not much has changed, Suldur," uttered the unicorn, momentarily darting his pupils in the earth pony's direction, then up at a stewardess as she promptly refilled his cup and thanked her with a single tip down of his chin. It was when she returned to the galley when the unicorn shifted gears toward the grey stallion. 

The simper sported on the stallion's muzzle fell into a more discernible glower. His left ear swiveled sideways and pinned back halfway. His conscience buzzed with conflict, attempting to remind himself why they were there in the first place. Frankly, he could not muster himself to believe what his home thinks of Equestria, and all of the surrounding propaganda. It simply was not true in his eyes, and as an ambassador with peace in mind, he would prove his fellow pony incorrect, that they are simply misinformed.

"We shall see about that," remarked Suldur, shifting in his seat and leaning back into it with his hooves on either armrest.

The brass unicorn rolled his eyes in annoyance, scoffing under his breath as he held the cup mere inches from his lips. "Her leading princess is the same as every decade before it, you should know this. Their ideologies have not changed in centuries, either. Quit being so gullible."

Gently, Suldur shook his head, glancing out the window again as the jet descended through a patch of cloud cover, shrouding the sun that hung by a thread above the western horizon as dusk approached. He muttered narrowly above the low whine in the cabin, "Perhaps it isn't me who is the gullible one."

His companion merely pretended not to hear the greyscale stallion's mumbles, only going as far as throwing a stabbing glare across the aisle while the oblivious pony gazed elsewhere.

In the final minutes before landing, the brass unicorn made sure to finish every last drop of his espresso to hand off the empty cup to the stewardess and tucked his reading glasses away in one of his vest's two breast pockets. Both him and Suldur buckled their seat belts, as did the others aboard the aircraft in other compartments.

The plane banked in a rather sharp turn to line up with the airstrip, enduring brief patches of turbulence on final approach. Water droplets streaked across the outer fuselage and the windows, descending through a second, lower cloud layer of rain showers and only slightly deteriorated visibility, not nearly adequate to raise any concern.

At long last, they were on the ground, indicated by a light jolt of the wheels below the wings and nose kissing the wet runway. The engines whined at a higher pitch as reverse thrust engaged, kicking up water and creating a cloud of mist that enveloped much of the aircraft while it gradually slowed to a safe taxi, where it rolled off on an exit road toward a set of large hangars and warehouses on the northwest sector of the airport. There, a unit of Lunar Marines, a convoy of carriages, and ground crews awaited.

"Hmm, zeems we do, in fact, have quite ze welcoming party. Most impressive," said a pear-green unicorn, donning the dress uniform of an Ajerstanian naval admiral, head dipped to peek out Suldur's window after having stood from his seat.


***


To anypony, there was something about airplanes that is simply magical about them. To me, an enormous piece of machinery with wings and a pair of petroleum-powered turbines that were at one point experimental in some factory near Seaddle, weighing a couple hundred tons in all and is still perfectly capable of getting off the ground with ease, is just weird, albeit astonishing.

Planes became dominant in the air travel industry in Equestria roughly a century prior, built to cut previous travel times via airship or by rail, and the overall higher demand for new modes of transportation. Of course, pegasi are naturally able to get to and from places nationwide, weather contingent, and few unicorns have ample knowledge of magic in that aspect, which leaves earth ponies and the average unicorn on exhausting cross-country hikes or spending hours or even days on a train, depending on the distance.

As such, airships have been phased out over the recent decades, but continue traditional routes out of Canterlot. That, and the kingdom still flies one specifically made for the princesses. Evidently it costs copious amounts more to construct and operate one than a modern airliner, and everypony knows the big corporations regard price tags above all else. Plus, if it gets you where you need to go in a short amount of time, that is more than good enough for me.

Watching the black-and-silver wide-body jet touch down was a thing of wonder. The blast of the engines immensely kicked up water, shrouding the rear half of the aircraft with vapor, almost like the ring that forms around a supersonic object as it breaks the sound barrier, but at a much slower speed. The roar of its engines, even from a distance, became dreadfully loud, more so as it turned off of the runway and toward where we had been positioned and standing by for the last hour and a half in the cold rain and blustery wind. 

Alas, we weren't alone out there. For some extremely, dull-witted reason, photographers of the media were also allowed on the airport grounds to snap pictures of the dignitaries as they disembark and are collected by us, where we would then bring them to the embassy downtown and, possibly later, to a meetup with Princess Twilight Sparkle for dinner.

The plane soon came to a stop a few yards from where we waited, lights of green and red flashing in a consistent pattern in reflections off of the dampened cement. A half-crew of ponies rushed underneath to plant stoppers against the wheels, while the second group hauled a staircase against the fuselage, lining it up impeccably with the front exit. The whine of the engines decreased in pitch as they shut down, and the door popped inward, sliding up into a space in the ceiling. 

For its size, only perhaps twenty or thirty ponies, including the flight crew, were on board. The plane itself was large enough that it appeared as if it could hold roughly 300 and some change. Of course, political aircraft specializing in carrying very important ponies utilized the space for more than just transport.

A few flashes of cameras illuminated up the side of the aircraft, brighter than lightning only slightly. They increased in frequency as the first of the Ajeri diplomats stepped out, tailed closely by a uniformed stallion holding an umbrella over them. 

After them, a brass unicorn in a black vest with silver buttons lining the center, deflecting rain through a mastered shield spell hovering above him transparently, protecting every inch of his body and keeping it dry. 

Then came a second unicorn in splendid dress blues, decorated on his right breast with a rather impressive ribbon rack, with platinum devices on his collar of a naval officer; more specifically, an admiral.

Without so much as glancing over his shoulder, Hardstaff promptly barked to us. "Atten-tion!" The hooves of eight Marines, my own included, clicked together in unison, and everypony stood tall with hardened countenances. "Salute!"

At his order, my hoof, along with seven others, raised steadfast. As a cordial gesture for new arrivals, especially important members of a distant nation, protocol had it where, no matter of rank or title, that they must be greeted with utmost respect as a display of dignity.

Hardstaff was the last to salute, only doing so when the admiral and the ambassadors halted before us. The Ajeri officer gracefully repaid the salute, then firmly shook hooves with Hardstaff.

"Admiral Gantry, Ambassador Suldure, Consul Buchard, my name is Sergeant Hardstaff. On behalf of the Lunar Marine Corps, I would like to welcome you to Manehattan," he declared, keeping his volume above the pattering of the rain and the chatter of paparazzi to our left.

The first to speak up was the grey earth pony of the trio, offering a mere yet abrupt correction of Hardstaff. "Please, Sergeant, address me casually as Suldur, pronounced like soldier," he commented with a warm smile.

Hardstaff tipped his chin in acknowledgement toward the greyscale stallion. "My apologies. I am afraid they do not include name pronunciations in the briefing forms."

The remark brought small chuckles from Suldur and Gantry. "Everypony makes mistakes once and a while, Sergeant Hardstaff," chimed the grizzling admiral. "Let us all get out of the rain, shall we?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," nodded the sergeant, turning to us afterward. "Let's get a move on, fellas." He then shifted back to the trio as we broke formation to secure the enclosed carriages stationary behind us. "Admiral, Mr. Ambassador, and Mr. Consul, if you would please?"

I stood beside the third carriage, holding open the door as the quiet brass unicorn strolled up, dissembling the spell protecting him from the rain and climbing in with care. He gave a nod of thanks beforehand, and as soon as he was secure inside with an accompanying Ajeri soldier, I closed the door and made my way to the carriage behind it. In all, there were five. Two escort carriages, and three for transport, one per diplomat. The escorts consisted of four Marines each, with Hardstaff accompanying Admiral Gantry in the leading carriage.

Members of the flight crew disembarked last and were shuttled off to the main terminal separately, where carriages would await to take them to a different hotel in the city and spend the next few days in Manehattan until it comes time to fuel up and fly home.

As soon as everypony loaded up, one by one, we hauled off to one of the gates leading out of the airport and essentially leaving the press behind. The last thing we needed was a pony attempting to get the best pictures for their respective media outlet and getting injured in the process, incidentally or intentionally. Of course, that would not stop pegasi, though I imagine our guns would be more than enough to make them maintain a suitable distance for the sake of themselves and our guests.

In advance, streets were blocked off to ensure a direct route to the embassy without any hiccups. A good six and a half miles of road vacated of civilian hoof and taxi traffic, as well as one of the main bridges connecting to Manehattan Island, all of which accomplished by temporary barriers and armed peacekeepers manning each intersection involved.

It grew a bit more rough on the final stretch, where ponies had weathered the storm above to gather on both sides of the street. Some carried signs that welcomed the arrivals, others chanted with posters of protest extended as high as their hooves stretched, their curses and in one or two cases derogatory language against Ajerstanians narrowly above the ambience of crowds at every turn taken.

The convoy rolled up to the front of the embassy building, one of the shorter high-rise structures in Midtown. Situated atop a granite plate up a minute flight of steps, it sported an asymmetrical, modern shape with the lobby floor narrower than the ones above. Its exterior consisted predominantly of white marble, with five-inch-thick bulletproof and magic-wicking glass panes stretching uninterrupted to the top. In the courtyard along the front of the building and stretching around the corner stood numerous flags of other nations around the world, with Equestria's flying proudly in center above all.

We unloaded from the back of the escort cart as embassy officers made their way to the curb and aided the diplomats out of their carriages and up to the door. Strangely enough, this was done with ease, without a single pony who should not have been here in sight. Evidently, they knew how to clear a block and prolong it.

Hardstaff walked Admiral Gantry up to the door and was still talking to him along the way. They exchanged a final salute with one another, before the admiral headed inside through a glass door held open ahead of him. After ensuring the naval officer was safe within the embassy, the sergeant made his way back down to us and, before we could take a moment to breathe, he began barking orders left and right. We weren't done here yet, and this was merely a quick stop. Our next objective involved bringing the three to meet with Princess Twilight; a short jaunt east, only eight and a half blocks, and frankly a reduced stress load than the initial trip for that reason.

When the yelling ceased, and the sergeant headed up front to speak with the front puller, ponies of our unit split apart to watch stations surrounding the carriages while we waited. It would be at least twenty to thirty minutes until the ball rolls again. 

Having taken point under a glass canopy at the embassy's entrance, I shook off my wings, letting the collected rain droplets roll off and onto the ground. My uniform and body vest drenched still, and I heard a hot, steamy shower calling for me once off duty in a couple of hours. I turned to Nightpath beside me, saying, "Good weather, if you're like me and love to curl up under a blanket, sip a mug of hot chocolate and watch a movie."

The brown draft stallion on my right gently shivered, his breath shaky as he sucked it in. "It's the middle of fucking July, I'm not ready for fall so soon."

He wasn't all wrong. The cold front sitting over the east coast brought soaking rains and October-like wind patterns. When it first rolled in, one could mistake the weather for a hurricane making landfall. Crackles of lightning and the earth-shaking booms of thunder went on throughout the overnight hours the evening before. 

It didn't cause too much trouble since we were both on duty at the time. It was only when it came time to walk home that the issue arose. The storms passed, although a massive swath of heavy rains took its place and still had yet to show any signs of breaking today going into tonight, meaning a long, cold ride home. Thankfully, forecasts predicted the skies to clear in time for tomorrow. At least, partially. No guarantees on warmer weather, however.

"I get you." I nodded, silencing a yawn as it emerged. "You know Manehattan, though, weather changes in the blink of an eye. Gotta keep that in mind."

Night shrugged his shoulders, letting off a fleeting sigh. "Just wish it would make up its damn mind for once in a blue moon."

At that, I brought my hoof up and slugged him in the arm. He simply looked at me, rubbing the spot. "Ooow! Was that necessary?"

"Don't say that while her highness is in town!" I teased, grinning up at him. Night turned his nose up. He jerked his hoof out toward me, and impulsively I leaped to the side with us both chortling. "Hey, easy! I'm the small one of the two of us, remember?"

"I remember," he nickered, smirking with distinction. "Kind of why I picked on you back in basic. No hard feelings, of course."

I simply rolled my eyes and fell back in position next to him. By now, he and I were virtually to the point of friendship where unfavorable recollections become jokes of the past. We acknowledged now that neither of which were offended in any way by them—not anymore, that is, and it is that which we now cherish as good friends.

After almost a half an hour of standing around, the order came from an embassy agent stepping outside a minute ahead of Gantry and Suldur on their way to the carriages. We moved into positions and awaited the two, and upon their exit, Hardstaff walked to the agent with an aura of debate on his expression.

"Where is Consul Buchard?" the sergeant queried, questioning the diplomat's sudden absence.

"Consul Buchard demands to rest here until tomorrow and wishes to skip the meeting with Princess Twilight," the agent responded, monotone in his answer.

Without disputing it any further, the dark-coated pegasus sergeant returned to us as the admiral and ambassador loaded up into their individual carriages with their protectors.

"All right, let's move it out!" shouted Hardstaff, motioning his hoof for us to load up into the escort carriages, before taking up the leading cart along with four other Marines.

Night and I piled into the trailing carriage, while one of the embassy agents shut the hatch and tapped twice on the metallic skin, a signal that we were ready to go.


***


Right on schedule, we arrived at Saffron Leaf, the designated meeting place selected by the Princess of Friendship herself. The rain, for the time being, ceased enough to where umbrellas were unnecessary for our VIPs. Additionally, the two were more than pleased with our timing where, when they first stepped out of their carriages, personally thanked each and every one of us.

In all honesty, it was a breath of fresh air, especially since all that happened at sea a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps there was more than what meets the eye about Ajerstan, even if these were just two of their own out of millions. The hope still existed that something could be worked out with the princesses, and maybe, just maybe, this evening might make that difference. Princess Twilight Sparkle was, after all, the alicorn known for mending relationships, particularly between a couple of ponies; more less political relationships, but what did I know?

After the two were ushered inside, we took up watch positions surrounding the fine establishment. Like the area encompassing the embassy, no soul apart from the authorities occupied the street. In the eyes of Hardstaff, it very well seemed to be a protection detail of one's dreams. Every building on the block was secured one way or another and, with a few glances around, I could very well make out the suppressed barrels of reconning sniper rifles in neighboring high-rise structures.

It had only been a minute since first arriving on the scene when the doors of the restaurant opened gently, under the influence of a magenta aura gripping the handle, and out stepped the Princess of Friendship. Needless to say, it caught all of us off guard without a moment's notice of her actions through the comms channel, and we instinctively bowed in her presence.

Princess Twilight Sparkle stopped in front of us, clearing her throat softly to speak. "May I speak to the leader of your squadron?" she addressed, sporting a warm smile.

Hardstaff raised his head, approaching her from the left. "That would be me, Your Highness." He halted before her, throwing up a salute. "Sergeant Hardstaff, Lunar Marine Core."

"At ease, Sergeant." The purple alicorn waved her hoof, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry to bug you, but, if I might ask, where is Consul Buchard?"

"Your Highness, Consul Buchard has insisted on spending the evening at the embassy. Said he chooses to meet you in person only at the royal assembly," Hardstaff answered sternly. "I am sorry, those were his adamant requests that we wished to respect."

"Oh. All right, then." said Twilight, frowning, but then smiled. "Thank you, soldier."

"Marine," Hardstaff corrected with a single nod and, very faintly, returning the slightest of simpers. "You are more than welcome, Your Highness."

"And thank you for your service, all of you," she added, her purple irides breezing over each of us individually with a continuing and genuine smile. With that, the princess turned tail and vanished into the restaurant's doors, closing them in her wake.

A smile was with every ounce of effort in me prevented so as to avoid attracting the sergeant's attention. Having not previously met Princess Twilight or so much as been in the vicinity as her did this to me. She was not a popular princess. In fact, it seems anywhere beyond her home of Ponyville, as well as the royal capital of Canterlot, she goes without mention most of the time. Then again, that is likely because she is still a fairly new princess; only two years since her coronation have passed. I imagine with the passage of time, this is due to change significantly.

But, she is herself. She was still just a normal pony, a citizen of Equestria, you could see that in her temperament. Frankly put, it is a much needed relief to have a serving princess who takes time for her subjects—not that Celestia or Luna do not, although, the elder sister has been a sitting ruler of the land for centuries and wiser in terms of understanding what is best for her, and her ponies. She understands possibilities, taking them into high consideration before pulling public moves. 

That is what feels refreshing and unique about Twilight. She just does when it comes to her followers, and I can respect that a lot. And even better yet, it is our responsibility for the evening that she remains in safe hooves.