One month later
Megan walked through the kitchen, pausing before the small army of sous chefs moving about under the watchful eye of the head chef. She cleared her throat. “M-Mister Hinton?” she asked, her hands trembling slightly, shaking what they held.
Marvin 'Roadblock' Hinton spun from the stove with precision born from years in the armed forces. He stood almost a full foot taller than Megan, with light brown skin, a shaved head and pencil mustache. His eyes were somewhat narrow, but projected no malice. In one hand was a soup ladle, the other a cookbook. And despite his age, he still had enough muscle mass to lift a Browning .50 caliber machine gun and use it barehanded. “Missus Richards,” he said, motioning to the kitchen around them and the controlled chaos. “I'd like to thank you for the use of your kitchen and the latitude you've shown my assistants and myself.” He stepped back and half-bowed. “Much appreciated.”
Megan shook her head rapidly. “No, no! It's no problem at all, Mister Hinton!”
Marvin shook his head. “Hey, no 'Mister', there. I was enlisted,” he said, winking. He looked down at her hands and what was being held by them. “Hey, you're a fan? Thanks!”
Megan looked down at the DVD boxed set of Cooking with Kung-Fu Grip: Season one. Her cheeks colored slightly. “I... own all nine seasons,” she said, her voice dropping with every word.
Marvin chuckled. He set down the cookbook and ladle and took the boxed set from Megan. He slid a pen from his chef jacket's pocket and, with practiced ease, signed his name across the cover. He handed it back and sketched a short bow.
Megan took it and smiled at him. “Thank you very much. And for the record, it's Megan for me, not 'Missus Richards'.” She leaned over and looked at the various dishes being prepared. “Wow,” she breathed out. She pointed at a pot simmering on the stove. “Is that barley soup?”
Marvin followed her gaze. “Some of the pony dishes took a bit of doing, but we're making it work.” he pointed to a pair of ponies with white hats and coats near the refrigerator. “Pear Slice and High Class have been lifesavers with some of them.” He looked back to Megan, but his eyes were focused slightly to her left. “Actually, I have a favor I'd like to ask of you.” He motioned with his head past Megan.
Megan turned around, quickly spotting a well-worn duffel bag in the corner. She stepped aside, allowing the larger man to slide past and pick it up. He unzipped it, reached in and, after a few seconds of moving the contents around, pulled out a dogeared copy of 'My Little Horsey and the Tale of the Terrible Tirac'. He held it up, his cheeks turning beet-red. “My niece gave it to me. I've been hooked ever since.”
There was a simple stare from Megan before she flipped open the front cover and looked at the inside of it. “'To Unka Marvin',” she read, glancing up and smiling slightly. She held out a hand, took his pen as he offered it to her and jotted down a brief note, reading it aloud as she did. “'To Marvin, from Megan. It's all right to like the ponies.” She handed the book and pen back. “There you go, Marvin.”
A sigh escaped Marvin as he looked down at the book in his hand. “Thanks, Megan. So... have you had any time to start on the next novel?” he asked, flashing her a toothy smile.
Megan let out a sigh and shook her head. “Between setting this up, my adventures in Equestria and tea time with the princesses, not much.” She looked away from Marvin, focusing on a calendar hanging on the wall. Her right hand grabbed her left arm, squeezing it. “And sometimes I almost find myself wanting to call up Firefly or Bow Tie and ask them if I got their characterization right.” A bark of mirthless laughter escaped her lips. “I'm sorry.”
Marvin slid the book into his duffel bag and reached over, patting Megan on the shoulder. “Never be sorry for that, Megan. Lord knows I've been there. I lost a number of good friends from Delta-Six.”
The younger woman looked to him, meeting his piercing eyes. “Thank you, Marvin.” Megan stepped aside, turning away from him and towards the sliding door that led to the porch and backyard. “By your leave?” At his half-bow, she walked up to the door and the quartet of guards standing there. To her right was a pair from the Secret Service, each wearing a suit with slim bulges in their form-fitting jackets. Earpieces with cords trailing down the nape of their neck and shades with flashing interiors completed the look. To her left stood two ponies, each clad in the ceremonial armor of the Royal Guard. A unicorn mare stood at attention, with a snow-white coat and golden armor of the Solar Watch. Her mane was sky-blue, matching her eyes. Next to her was an earth pony stallion clad in the midnight-blue armor of the Night Watch. His eyes were pale-yellow and slitted, darting to and fro. His black tail whipped back and forth, slicing through the air.
The two ponies looked up to Megan and, as one, dropped to one knee, the crests of their helmets touching the floor. “Mag'ne,” the unicorn breathed out. Her horn glowed and the door slid open. “We are at your service!” she declared, looking up, but still keeping low to the linoleum.
Megan dropped to one knee and held out a hand. “No bowing to me.” She looked them over. "You are both members of the Royal Guard, and you have both reclaimed your pride and honor.” She slowly rose, beckoning them to follow.
One of the Secret Service agents leaned over to her. “Thank you,” he said, his voice measured, with an odd cadence to it. “They've both been a bit anxious to meet you.” He looked to the ponies, the right corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. He had a somewhat long face, and a piercing stare even with his eyes obscured by the shades.
Megan returned the smile. “You're welcome, Mister...”
“Smith,” he supplied, adjusting his necktie. “Agent Smith. And yes, I've heard all the jokes.”
There was a pause from Megan before she simply waved him off. “I'm sure you have.” She stepped outside into a bright, sunny day and breathed in the crisp, cool air.
Her moment of peace was shattered as a young Latino woman in a business jacket and knee-length skirt approached, a microphone in hand and scowl on what would otherwise be a rather attractive face. A camera floated behind her, the lens whirring as it adjusted itself automatically based on distance and lighting conditions. “Missus Richard, Rosanna Ramirez, Coyote News Network!” she declared, thrusting the microphone into Megan's face. “What are your thoughts on accusations that Equestria is lulling us into a false sense of security as a prelude to invasion?”
Megan stared down at the microphone before slowly looking up at Ramirez. Her right hand began clenching into a fist, but sheer force of will uncurled her fingers. “Those accusations have no basis in reality,” she said, her voice measured. She stepped to the side, but Rosanna followed, blocking her path. “Miss Ramirez, please step aside. I have friends and family to see.”
Ramirez turned to the camera. “You heard it here first, folks! Megan denies the rumors. But! Is it possible she herself is in league with our new pony overlords?” She swiveled back, thrusting the microphone back into Megan's face. “Your comments?”
Megan's face flushed red. Her lips curled in a snarl and her eyes narrowed. Ramirez took a step back, but Megan stepped forward. “I said no comment, Miss Ramirez. All right?!”
Any comment from Ramirez was cut short as an older man stepped up behind her. He wore a white naval dress uniform, with a self-described salt and pepper beard adorning his chin. Although most would say it was more 'salt' than pepper these days. “Hey, Rosie!” Admiral Hector 'Shipwreck' Delgado called out, waving at her back. He waited for her to turn around before continuing. “Don't you have stories about cats in trees and drywall peeling to cover? You know, more in line with your skill.” His eyes darted to Megan and he walked around Ramirez to Megan. “Lovely shindig you've got here, Missus Richards. A lot better than the last place I took shore leave at,” he said, winking.
Ramirez' nostrils flared. She focused on Hector, thrusting her microphone at him. “Admiral Delgado, are-”
Hector reached over, closing weathered hands around the microphone's windscreen. “Listen, Rosie. Can we please just cut the crap, here?” he wrapped an arm around Megan's shoulders, drawing her in for a one-armed hug. “You do remember that one time she was interviewed, right?” His free hand made a fist and he gently punched the air, grinning from ear to ear. “Damn, I watched that about a hundred times on Youtube.”
Ramirez' face paled and her outstretched hand shook. She backpedaled a few feet before spinning on her heel and running off, her camera following along.
Megan glanced at Hector out of the corner of her eye. “You forgot to mention Meyer punched me first,” she said, kneeling down and out of Hector's hug.
The old swabbie chuckled. “Not as fun that way. Just like when I crowed to Hawk about being right all those years.” He paused for a moment, the smile falling away for a moment. “You think either of the princesses would mind an old salt asking them a question?”
Megan slowly shook her head. “No, why?”
“No reason.”
Megan tilted her head, but ultimately shrugged and left it alone. She placed an arm across her stomach and bowed to him. “Well, thanks for getting her off my back, at least.” She checked her wristwatch. “If you'll excuse me, Admiral. I need to be somewhere in about ten minutes.” She turned and walked off, threading her way through groups of humans, ponies and even the occasional zebra or humanoid from the stars. Representatives from Canada, France, China, India, the United Kingdom and a dozen other countries were amongst the crowd, paying her little mind as they talked. She quickly found herself in front of the tool shed, in the back corner.
Mike, Molly, Danny, Danielle and Michelle were there. Mike's expression brightened as Megan approached. “Hey,” he said, leaning forward and kissing her.
Megan returned the kiss. “Hey, yourself,” she breathed out when she pulled back. She motioned to her dress. “What do you think?”
Molly looked her over. “A lot fancier than what you wore when Smart Cookie visited Dream Valley,” she remarked.
Megan stuck her tongue out. “Quiet, you. At least I wore shoes.” She stepped over to Danielle and focused on a dab of something sticky in her hair. A glance to the side and she saw some on Michelle's right arm. “Danielle Wind Whistler Richards...”
Danielle swallowed. “Well, we were showing the other Crusaders the stuff inside the garage...
“Danielle, what's this do?”
“Scootaloo, don't!”
Megan crossed her arms and glared at her older daughter. “Nothing was broken, I assume?”
Mike spoke up. “It's all right, Megan. I checked it out. No one got hurt and the damage is minimal.” He motioned to the center of the yard. “I think you’ve got someplace to be.”
Megan looked over her shoulder at the center of the yard. Shaky hands smoothed down her dress. “How do I look?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.
Danny rolled up beside her and took her hand in his. “You’ll be fine, sis.” He pointed to the center of the yard. “Now, go make some more history. And don’t worry. We’ll all be right behind you.”
Megan bent down and kissed her brother on the cheek. “Thanks, Danny.” She hugged and kissed Mike, hugged Molly, Michelle and Danielle before turning and walking to the center of the yard, where the physical hole to Equestria hung in the air. She approached the hole and the Rainbow Bridge cascading down from it, like a frozen waterfall of light.
Three humans and a unicorn stallion stood before it, three of them in a suit accompanied by a quartet of security guards from their respective nations. The first was President Abernathy, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back and looking up at the hole. To his right was Ivan Nikolevich Brekhov, the Premier of Russia. He held a cane in his right hand, and from the angle he stood Megan could see a patch over his right eye. And to Clayton's left stood Fancy Pants, Chancellor of the Equestrian Senate, clad in a tuxedo that showed off his triple-crown cutie mark, his monocle floating about just in front of his face as he looked up at Clayton and chuckled.
And right by Clayton was Hector. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a smug look on his face. “... All I’m saying is, if you had only listened to me back then. You know, maybe considered the possibility I was right?”
Clayton’s head tilted back. He threw his hands into the air and groaned. “Okay, Shipwreck. What do you want me to say?”
“Oh... ‘You were right, Shipwreck’.”
A chuckle escaped Ivan. “Hawk, if you wish, I could put him out of your misery, da?”
Clayton waved him off. “No...” He swiveled on his heels to face his former teammate. “Shipwreck... you were right.”
A bark of laughter escaped from Hector. He waggled a finger in the air. “I could hold my liquor even back then!”
Fancy Pants' monocle swiveled in Megan's direction. His head soon followed. “Ah, my dear Missus Richards!” he said, sweeping a foreleg at her. “I am honored to be in your presence!” He bowed his head for a moment.
Clayton and Ivan turned to face her, while Hector stepped back a few paces. Clayton smiled warmly and extended a weathered hand to Megan. “Missus Richards, good to see you again.”
Megan’s mouth opened, but nothing came out for a few moments. She reached up with a trembling hand and shook Clayton’s. “G-good t-to see you again, Mister President,” she stammered out.
Ivan let out a chuckle. “She raises princesses by hand and forges a nation from chaos, but a president makes her pale and stammer. Yak zabavno!” He half-bowed, leaning somewhat heavily on his cane. He held up his free hand and checked his watch. “Is almost time.”
Fancy Pants trotted around to Megan’s side and gently guided her around to a spot right next to the Rainbow Bridge, to Clayton’s and Ivan’s right. “Now then, my dear. You’re all set?” At her shaky nod, he grinned. “Excellent.” A fobwatch floated up out of his suit pocket and opened up in front of him. “Nearly time...”
Conversations died down as everyone’s attention turned to the Rainbow Bridge. Reporters crowded in, humans on the ground and pegasi in the air. Security personnel tensed...
A single ball of light floated out of the hole. almost lazily drifting down to the ground in front of Clayton and Ivan. It brightened, stretching out and expanding into Princess Celestia. Her mane and tail whipped about as she looked around. Her wings flapped slightly as her hooves touched the ground. Her regalia gleamed, shining with an inner fire.
A stream of dark-blue mist snaked out of the hole, twirling around to the ground. It stopped, also expanding, but this one quickly turned into Princess Luna. A confident smile graced her muzzle. Her mane and tail hewed closer to her head and flank, but parts of it still bounced about. Her own regalia was dark, drinking in any light.
The Diarchs of Equestria stood before the President of the United States and the Premier of Russia. Fancy Pants was to one side, Megan on the other. A hush settled over everyone there. Finally, Megan held up her right hand and motioned to the alicorns. “May I present the Diarch of the Sun, Princess Celestia. And this is her sister, Princess Luna, Diarch of the Moon.” She turned to her left. “Princesses, this is Clayton Abernathy, President of the the United States, and Ivan Nikolevich Brekhov, the Premier of Russia.” She took a step back, letting out a deep breath.
Both Celestia and Luna dropped to one knee, quickly standing up once more. “We are honored to be here,” Luna announced, her voice carrying across the yard and half the neighborhood. More than one microphone whined from the feedback.
Clayton and Ivan both extended a hand. “On behalf of all of humanity, we formally welcome you to Earth,” Clayton announced.
“May this meeting be the first,” Ivan started.
“But not the last,” Celestia finished. The alicorns held their forelegs up, allowing Clayton and Ivan to grasp them in an improvised hand-and-hoof shake. Cameras flashed all around, capturing the moment. Fancy Pants’ hooves began pounding on the grass, producing muffled thuds. After a moment Megan began clapping, the ponies and humans quickly following their lead.
Hector approached Luna and Celestia, his right hand gripping a glass of whiskey. The two were standing with Megan, Molly and Danny, chatting about something. He tipped his glass back and drained it in one long swig before walking up to the Diarchs. “Excuse me,” he said.
Celestia glanced over to him. Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Admiral... Delgado, was it?”
Hector nodded. “Yeah.” He looked to Megan. “Ah, Megan? Remember what I said earlier, about that question I wanted to ask the princesses?” He motioned to the alicorns with his drinking hand.
Megan slowly nodded. She grabbed Molly’s sleeve and led her away, Danny rolling right behind. “Come on, you two. “Let’s make sure the Crusaders haven’t leveled the garage.”
Hector waited for the three to leave before speaking. “Back in 1982, a pink pony flew up to me, asking about finding a rainbow or something.” He paused and scratched the side of his head. “Now, I know it really happened, but something’s been bugging me.” He paused and waved his free hand about. “Who was she? And did she find what she was looking for?”
Celestia and Luna exchanged a glance. “Pink pony who could fly,” Celestia said, rubbing her chin with a hoof. She glanced up at the sun, staring along the line of her horn. “Perhaps Firefly?”
Luna nodded. “Indeed. For as I recall, she was the one to cross the most during the early days.” She looked to Hector. “Yes, it was Firefly, one of the founders of Cloudsdale.” Her eyes drifted past the old sailor, settling on Megan. “And she did indeed find who she was looking for.”