“How considerate of you to leave the door open for us.”
Meg stopped typing mid-keystroke. It certainly was considerate of me. They’d never be—no, that spell wasn’t in place yet. It was this event that had led Twilight to put that structural integrity spell into place. Right? It was so long ago…
She turned around and faced Jackson, trying to act the part. “Ex-excuse me?”
“No excuses for you, traitor.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. “Get up.”
Meg stood up. Acting the part had suddenly become a lot easier.
Jackson stepped backwards out of the office, keeping the gun aimed, and yelled, “Virgil, come here!”
Meg knew she wasn’t in any real danger. Even if she didn’t know she’d eventually escape, there was always magic—not that using magic was a real option. That’d be too revealing.
Someone came running, presumably this Virgil.
“Take her prisoner and drive her to the warehouse.”
A blank look. “Prisoner? Where would I put her?”
“Figure it out!” Jackson yelled. “And find something to tie up her hands.”
Imbeciles. She doubted they could’ve kept even her past self from escaping.
Fortunately for Jackson, escape was not in her plans.
Not yet.
Twilight stopped in front of the door to Meg and Steve’s apartment inside the palace. A variety box of donuts, fresh from Donut Joe, hovered in front of her. She pressed the doorbell.
The wait was short. The door opened, revealing Meg, whose eyes fell on the box. “A peace offering, or something?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”
Meg stepped aside to let Twilight in. “I suppose not.”
“Wings feeling better? Rainbow Dash should not have pushed you so hard.”
“No pain, no gain, as they say.” The wings in question unfolded and Meg gave them an experimental flap. “Getting better, but I think I’ll stay on the ground for another day.”
A small jar of plaid pills rose from Twilight’s saddlebags. “I brought some for you to keep, so that you don’t have to come to Ponyville. Just keep them out of sight.” Two pills lifted from the jar, then the jar flew all the way to a kitchen counter.
“Before we go,” Meg said. “Did, uh, did Discord come to see you about a—”
“He interrupted our meeting with Serrell.”
Meg grimaced. “Sorry about that. We didn’t know he was listening to us.”
“No harm done, I guess. Serrell was actually open to the idea.”
“It’ll happen?”
Twilight sighed. “Let’s just say I’m thinking about it. Ready to go?”
“Sure. What’s the departure point?” Meg twitched her wings. “Sorry it couldn’t be your throne room.”
“Luna’s observatory. It has a view to die for. I’ll teleport us there, if you don’t mind.”
Meg shrugged. “Not in the mood to fly anyway.”
One teleport later, and the two mares were outside the observatory, its dome closed to protect the telescope from the weather. Twilight sent a pill over to Meg. “Anything I ought to be aware of?” Twilight asked.
Meg shook her head. “Not really. I’ll drive, and I’ll turn off invisibility as soon as I see everything’s okay.”
Twilight nodded, and they both swallowed the pill.
Meg brought them to Matt’s living room. Twilight immediately recognized Matt and Lori, naturally, but seated across from them was a woman she had seen only in pictures.
“We’re here,” Meg announced.
Lauren Faust jerked around and her jaw dropped, her eyes locking first onto Twilight, then her glowing horn, then on the glowing, floating box, then back and forth between those last two. The alicorn stepped forward, presenting her best smile of friendship and sending the box of donuts ahead of her. “A little something I’ve brought from Canterlot.”
Faust hesitantly plucked the glowing box out of the air. Strange how humans always react that way the first time they encounter telekinesis, Twilight thought. It didn’t seem to matter that this human had created—so far as she knew at the time—the ability of unicorns to manipulate their environment via telekinesis.
“Donuts?” Faust asked after removing the lid.
“Donut Joe’s, right?” Lori asked. “Those are good. Say ‘hi’ for me the next time you see him.”
Faust jerked her head back to Lori. “Wait. You’ve been to his shop? It’s real?”
“Yes?”
She put the donut box aside and stood up. Addressing Meg, she asked, “You’ve been there too?”
“I’ve been to many places inside Equestria, and a few places outside it.” She turned to Twilight. “Why don’t we cut to the chase and bring her back with us?”
“Yes, let’s.” She smiled at her alleged creator. “Please stand beside me.”
Faust warily complied. “Anything you should warn me about? Vertigo, nausea, that sort of thing?”
“Nope! You wouldn’t even notice if your eyes were closed.”
Twilight gave her a second to close her eyes, but those eyes remained locked on herself. She englobed Faust in her magic and invoked the return spell. The human stumbled as the background changed from living room to outdoor balcony.
Faust took in her surroundings. “Where are we?” she asked. She took a step to the not-high-enough-for-humans railing at the edge of the balcony.
“Canterlot,” Twilight answered. “This is the tallest tower of the palace.”
“Bigger than I imagined,” the human said, taking in the vista.
“It is the capital of Equestria.”
Faust scanned the streets below. “Lots of colorful ponies, no question about it.”
Twilight walked up beside her and pointed a hoof. “In that direction is Ponyville.”
“Oh wow. Wish I had binoculars. Those orchards over there? Must be Sweet Apple Acres, right?”
“It sure is. And over there, at the edge of the Everfree Forest, is Fluttershy’s cottage.”
“Now I really wish I had binoculars.” She held a hand above her eyes and squinted. “Maybe I can see it?”
After giving her a minute to take it all in, Meg said, “Don’t forget to look up. Those aren’t birds.”
Faust looked up. “Pegasi. Flying pegasi.” She looked down at Meg. “Any weather projects right now?”
Meg shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it, nothing obvious anyway.” The skies were clear.
“Can you do weather magic?”
“I’ve had some light training; nothing I could demonstrate right this moment. No clouds.”
Twilight was about to suggest she could make a cloud, right there on the balcony, when she got a sharp glance from Meg. Got it, no demonstrations. Perhaps Meg was right; the point of this wasn’t to provide their guest with the full, guided tour. But what, exactly, was the point? How long should this visit last?
Faust walked along the railing, apparently lost in thought; the railing extended all the way around the tower. She came to a stop where it overlooked a palace garden, the one in which Discord resided for many centuries as a statue. Her curiosity extended to the statues present. “It’s just I can’t believe this is all real. I thought I had created all this. Obviously that’s impossible, I’m no god, but…” She threw up her hands. “I can’t explain it.”
Twilight could only sympathize. “Neither can I.”
In the garden there was an empty pedestal. “I’m guessing that’s where Discord was imprisoned?”
“It is,” Twilight confirmed. “To be honest, I’m half-surprised he’s not here to greet you. But one can never tell with him.”
“Perhaps he’s too busy planning his theme park,” Meg offered.
“Theme park?” Faust asked.
“I haven’t approved it yet,” Twilight said. “But if I do, don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it along with the rest of humanity.”
The human was starting to look a bit worried. “Should I be personally concerned about Discord?—when I’m in Equestria, anyway.”
Meg shook her head. “No, he’s reformed. Doesn’t mean he won’t try to psych you out now and then, but nothing you truly need to be afraid of. I speak from experience. He can even be useful. He helped me create a voice synthesizer for The Smooze. A combination of computers and chaos magic.” She sighed. “Still needs a lot of work, though.”
Now it was Faust’s turn to shake her head. “The Smooze? I don’t even know how to process that.”
Neither did Twilight, if for different reasons. Progress had stalled long ago on that synthesizer. More than once she had wondered if the draconequus was deliberately holding back, to frustrate their efforts to learn from Smooze about the ancient past. But why help at all, in that case? Asking Discord himself would get nowhere; she’d been down that road too many times.
Faust resumed walking along the railing, eventually returning to her starting point. She gazed at distant Ponyville. This seemed as good a point as any to return her to her realm. “I’ll need to return you soon,” Twilight said. “But before I do, I was wondering if we could come to an agreement.”
“An agreement? About what?”
“To work together on finding out how your cartoon mirrored our reality. I know you’ve already been questioned by your government, but it may be possible to uncover answers with magic, answers you are not aware you have.”
She jerked around, alarmed. “Magic? You want to use magic on me? Like, right now?”
“Not right now,” Twilight said, doing her best to be reassuring. “And never without your consent. In any case, I don’t know a relevant spell. I may have to create one from scratch.”
“You… do know that not everything was created by me. Your names, for example; I had to reuse names from earlier generations that had already been trademarked by Hasbro.”
“I know,” Twilight said. “And Tirek and Smooze were introduced in the first generation. But we need to follow up on any and all leads. I’m even willing to accompany Tirek—former Lord Tirek, now Andy—on his visit to his original home in Minoa, to study how it interacted with the precursor to Equestria.”
Faust shook her head. “Yeah, never saw that coming: Lord Tirek was originally human. Funny, given that G1 featured a human, a girl named Megan.” Faust looked at the orchid pegasus. “Awfully similar to ‘Meg,’ wouldn’t you think?”
“Huh? I mean, it never occurred to me, but, I guess?”
“Hard to see how it could be anything other than a coincidence,” Twilight said. “Their names are about the only similarities they have.”
Long seconds passed. “About using magic on me,” Faust finally said. “I’ll have to sleep on it. Quite honestly, though, I have to admit magic is probably involved somehow, so maybe magic is needed to get to the bottom of this.”
“No, I mean it. Order whatever you want. It’s the least I can do to repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”
Meg continued to scan the menu, shocked by the prices. Yearling must have found the most expensive restaurant in Canterlot. But, hey, she can afford it. Upon turning the page, she blinked in disbelief, hoping it had been an illusion; it wasn’t. “A entire section devoted to aged hay?”
The author beamed. “It’s their specialty. No other establishment has as large a selection, sourced from all across Equestria. Have you ever tried it?”
“Once, yeah. Bought some in Ponyville—and I thought that was expensive.”
“It was… interesting,” Steve said.
“Really? You can get it direct from the farmer in Ponyville? That would cut out the middlemare.”
Meg shrugged. “That’s what I did.”
“There you go! You just saved me enough bits to pay for this meal. There’s a high-end restaurant in my casino that offers aged hay.”
Meg turned to the next page, which held the wine list. Which happens to be aged grape juice, she reminded herself. All ludicrously expensive, naturally. And she’d bet it’d taste the same—to her, anyway—as something affordable. She went back to the entrées.
“Did you know that I’ll be accompanying Twilight and Andy on their trip to Knossos?”
“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Meg said. She was having trouble deciding between a dish that’d be familiar to humans, or going full pony. “I was even present when the subject of passports came up between Twilight and Serrell.”
“So that explains it. Just received mine. Never had one before, never needed one.”
“You’ll need one to cross national borders in the human world,” Steve said. “Technically, you ought to need one to enter the U.S. from Equestria. I have no doubt that one would be needed to cross over using a portal, when one is established.”
“But I have one now. So I present it after Twilight brings me across?”
“Uh…” Meg looked to Steve, to see if he’d answer that. He shrugged, so Meg guessed she should answer. “They’re not really set up to handle our current method of entering the country. They kinda expect you to enter at an airport or a border crossing.”
“I suppose,” Steve added, “arrangements could be made for an immigration official to meet you on arrival, if you really want a U.S. stamp in your passport.”
“Or fly back from Greece to the U.S. instead of directly returning to Equestria,” Meg said. “Quite frankly, you should consider yourself lucky you can avoid the hassle of going through lines at customs.”
“And let’s not forget the whole getting-a-visa thing,” Steve said.
“Visa?”
“Equestria doesn’t do that either?” Then Meg remembered she hadn’t applied for a visa when she visited that archaeological dig in Minotaur lands. She had assumed Twilight took care of it. “You know what? If that hasn’t been brought to your attention, it’s safe to assume Twilight’s handling it.”
Yearling leaned back. “Fascinating. Anyway, I do believe I need to experience this hassle of customs for myself—so that I could include it in a future novel.”
Meg returned her focus to the menu. “You could just go to Tartarus, if that’s what turns you on. No, that’s unfair to Tartarus.” It really wasn’t such a bad place to visit—if you weren’t an inmate. She definitely preferred Cerberus to the typical customs agent.
The disguised pegasus gave Meg a curious look. “I’m sensing there’s a lot left unsaid there, but that can wait. Right now, I’d love to hear the latest on the impeachment trial. You’ve been asked to testify, right?”
“‘Asked’ is such a polite way of phrasing it.” That pasta dish look intriguing. It was loaded with several varieties of flowers. “Just had a consultation with one of the president’s men, to discuss strategy.” Quite expensive too, even for this place. Was it because of the flowers? It was true she didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they’re aged flowers.
“Care to offer me a peek behind the curtain?”
Meg looked up at Yearling. Yep, flowers it is. “I’m not sure what to say,” she began. “I mean, if you put it all verbatim into one of your books, it’ll bore your readers to tears.”
A smirk. “A skillful writer knows what to omit or when to indulge in poetic license.”
Meg shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So, the Senate Judiciary Committee is overseeing the impeachment trial. Senator Routledge is the chair of that committee, and his faction will do their best to ask me the sort of questions whose answers will condemn President Serrell. But there are also committee members who are on Serrell’s side, and they’ll ask me the other sort of questions, those whose answers will exonerate him.
“That consultation focused on two areas. First, how to answer the anticipated hostile questions in the least damaging way possible; and second, brainstorm friendly questions and the answers I could give to them.”
Her expression soured. “I was also warned that I might not care for how I would be treated. There’s talk of having me on a leash—you know, in case I planned on escaping or, I suppose, even attacking someone. Some think being on camera wearing a leash, like some dog, may actually create sympathy for me. Even if true, I’m not sure it’d be worth it.”
“A leash can’t prevent you from returning to Equestria,” Yearling pointed out. “Right?”
“And I’d be happy to prove it to them by doing just that, once they were done questioning me.”
Yearling looked to the side in thought for a moment. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that so publicly. It would fuel fears over the danger magic could pose to humans.”
Meg remembered what Routledge had said during Tirek’s release from Tartarus, after he had witnessed Discord messing around with the journalists. “You may be right,” she conceded. “It could play into Routledge’s hands.”
“Hands…” Yearling muttered. She pulled a small notepad from her dress and a ball-point pen. After scribbling some notes to herself, she put them back. “If I’m going to have humans in my novels,” she explained, “I need to pay attention to how they speak. ‘Play into hands,’ not ‘play into hooves.’”
“Makes sense to me,” Steve said.
Meg was merely curious as from where Yearling had acquired an obviously human artifact. Probably got it from Twilight. Saves having to carry around a pot of ink along with a quill.
“Anyway, cheer up,” Yearling said to Meg. “Nopony ever said politics was easy. I, myself, try to steer clear the best I can.”
“I wish I had that option.”
“Then let’s exercise that option for right here and now. What’s it like to fly across oceans in one of these flying machines of yours?”
The chartered jet leisurely approached, its engines distressingly loud. For all their technology, Twilight wondered why humans couldn’t create a fast flying machine that wasn’t so bucking noisy. She put out a sonic shield, just enough to cut the volume down to something tolerable.
“Thanks,” Yearling said, her ears returning to the upright position.
“No problem.” The magic generator she was carrying held several pounds of recovered U-235; she could afford to splurge. She addressed the Secret Service agents next to her. “It’ll be quieter inside, right?” If not, well, a spell like that doesn’t need much magic, and she always had the option of returning to Equestria to fetch a new generator.
Agent Reubens answered her. “Quieter, yes, but far from silent. Many people use ear plugs or noise-cancelling headphones, but many others aren’t bothered.”
“Right. Rainbow Dash did mention something about that when she rode in that helicopter you piloted out of the Crystal Empire. When the doors were closed.”
He laughed. “It’ll be quieter than that.”
Yearling looked expectedly at Twilight. “Sounds like a story I’ve yet to hear.”
“It’s a long story. I’m sure Rainbow Dash would love to tell it to you.”
“She did commandeer the seat next to mine,” Reubens said. “That pony is obsessed with flying.”
The plane edged towards them. “Too bad Rainbow doesn’t have the opportunity to fly with us in this flying machine.” Not from a lack of trying. But there just wasn’t any reason for her to come along on this journey.
It stopped, engines still running though not quite as loudly. A door near the front opened—from the top, not the side. It swung down, revealing a flight of stairs that almost reached the ground. Three humans appeared from inside and hurried down the stairs, two of them lugging cameras on their shoulders and the third carrying a long pole with… a microphone? Once on the ground, one cameraman pointed his camera at the top of the stairs and the other pointed it at the ponies and the agents. A microphone hovered above them.
What in Equestria is going on here?
Oh, she thought, chagrined. Right. Not Equestria. She sighed. Question still stands.
Before she could entertain any more thoughts, the former Lord Tirek stepped outside. “I’m gratified you didn’t change your mind!” He gestured with a hand. “Come aboard! You’ll love it. This is the way to travel!” He looked down at the cameraman recording him. “Got it?”
He got a thumbs up in response.
Seconds passed as the other camera was pointing at her. Evidently she was supposed to say something, but what? It was time for answers. “What’s going on?”
Andy was taken aback by the question. “Did I not mentioned that a documentary is being made on our trip to my birthplace?”
“You said it was a possibility, yes, but we’re not there yet.” She frowned; a camera was still pointed at her and the microphone still hovered above her. “And why is this being recorded?”
Andy waved it away. “It’ll almost certainly go unused, but it doesn’t hurt to record it anyway. You never know. Maybe it’ll be used in a ‘behind the scenes’ featurette. Anyway, it’s how we’re able to fly in this chartered jet; it’s being paid for out of the documentary’s budget.” A really big smile. “I am learning so much.”
Fine. She knew what was going on. But… “So what am I supposed to say?”
Yearling jumped in. “Ask me if I’m ready to go.”
“Huh?”
“Just do it. In character.”
“In character?”
A calming exhale. “You’re acting, playing yourself. Just pretend the cameras aren’t there.”
Really? Yes, she decided: Really. Fine. Even so… “We can do it over again if I mess up, right?”
“Sure,” the cameraman said, “but we might use the screwups for the blooper reel, if we decide to include one in the DVD/Blu-ray version.”
“Blooper reel?”
“Just ignore it for now,” Andy said in exasperation.
Yes, let’s get it over with. Twilight met Yearling’s eyes. A few seconds to find the right state of mind, and: “Ready to go?”
“I’m always ready.”
Twilight barely suppressed an eye roll. This was reality, not one of the author’s brainstorming role-playing sessions with her changelings. Besides, shouldn’t she be in character as “A. K. Yearling,” not “Daring Do?” And yet, looking at the cameras, she had to wonder if this counted as reality.
Twilight got a thumbs up from the cameraman. “Now we’ll film you entering the plane.”
“Will there be a moment you won’t be filming us?”
“Plenty of them.”
Somehow, Twilight failed to find that statement assuring. In resignation, she said, “Tell me when to start walking.”
“Let us go inside first,” Agent Fowler said. “Make sure there’re no ‘surprises.’”
“Surprises aren’t in the script.”
Agent Reubens through his sunglasses glared at the cameraman. “Don’t tell us how to do our jobs, and we won’t tell you how to do yours.”
Andy quickly interceded. “They’re Secret Service. Best to let them be.”
The cameraman looked back up at Andy. “You’re joking, right?”
“Afraid not. They were assigned to protect me when I returned to this world. They’re obviously here to protect the princess.”
“Not me?” asked Yearling, somewhat miffed.
“Apologies, Ms. Yearling,” Fowler said, “but only foreign dignitaries fall under our protection. That being said, it’s unlikely a threat against you would not also be a threat against Her Royal Highness.”
The cameraman remained skeptical. Twilight was beginning to wonder just who did he think he was? “Even outside the country?” he countered. “Kinda outside your jurisdiction for anyone other than the President.”
“It is true,” Reubens said, “that we would have no authority within the Hellenic Republic. Even so, our presence signals the importance that President Serrell attaches to the safety of our Equestrian guests, a signal that will not go unnoticed by the local authorities.”
A resigned sigh. “Suit yourself. Do your check for ‘surprises.’”
The agents started off for the plane, leaving the ponies alone with this human.
“Perhaps we should be properly introduced?” Yearling asked.
“Indeed,” he heartily agreed. “We shall be spending a lot of time together, so let’s get the formalities out of the way. You may call me Kyle. I’m the producer-slash-director-slash-occasional-cameraman of this documentary. That means I decide how the money is spent and I get to tell everyone what to do when the camera is recording. If you go on board that plane, I’ll be paying for your transportation, hotels, and food. I expect a return on my investment.”
What did I get myself into?
Kyle pointed at the other cameraman. “That’s Mike.”
“Hello,” Mike said, giving a wave of a hand.
“And that’s Dominic. He’s the soundman.”
“Could I get an autograph sometime? It’s, uh, it’s for my niece.”
Somehow Twilight doubted that, but it hardly mattered. “Sure.”
Agent Reubens stepped out of the plane, said, “You may come aboard now,” and went back inside.
“Andy!” Kyle called out. “Step outside to welcome your companions onto the plane.”
He did so.
Kyle got his camera into position. “Start walking,” he told the ponies.
Twilight levitated all their luggage, the agents’ included.
“Even seeing it for myself,” Kyle muttered.
With a shared glance, Twilight and Yearling did as instructed and began walking.
I really hope I don’t regret this.