“No.”
I blinked in surprise. “But—”
“I said no.” My mother almost rose up from her chaise. Iron and Leaf looked on with indifference and concern respectively. The fireplace crackled in a manner not dissimilar to Dew’s temper. “Why would you want to stay here for the week that we’ve paid for?”
My lips twitched downwards. Weren’t she and dad trying to prepare the house just for that? “I thought that—” I shook my head. “But what about all of the stuff that you got?”
“That’s for Leaf to prepare the house for the holidays,” Dew huffed. “Did you really think that your father took the week off for a holiday here?”
It certainly had seemed like he had, considering the last day’s activities. We went hiking, for goodness sake! They seemed to be enjoying themselves as if they were on vacation. “So you’d rather stay in an expensive hotel rather than get to stay here for free?” I pouted. “Doesn’t seem to make much sense.”
“Why I—” My mother bit back the rest of her response and snorted in annoyance. “We’re going to stay here for one night, then we’ll be back to the hotel, and that’s final!” She rose up and stormed off into the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence accompanied the equally uncomfortable stare from Iron.
“Dad, I—” A blue hoof interrupted me.
“Don’t,” he simply said, his voice neither disappointed nor angry. “She’s… just not in the mood. And frankly”—he stood up—“neither am I.” A glass of orange juice followed him on his way out to the porch. “I’ll be outside if you need me, Leaf.” At the nod of the stallion, Iron left us alone by the fireplace.
I buried my face in a hoof and let out a breath that, up until that point, I hadn’t realized that I was holding. Maker and sisters, what was happening with my parents?
Leaf wordlessly walked over to rekindle the dying flames, stealing a backwards glance towards me as he tended to the fire. I frowned in response; what did he want from me? This was not his concern. If you want to say something then say it. Otherwise, shove off.
I scolded myself: Leaf wasn’t to blame here, he was just doing his job. Letting my frustration out in a sigh wasn’t as satisfying as venting at Leaf, however. My grandmother’s funeral was souring my relationship with my parents.
And I don’t like it one bit, no sir.
“Trouble in paradise, am I right?” Leaf said as he returned to his chaise. I nodded somberly. “Can’t say that I know exactly what yer goin’ through, but I can relate, somewhat.” My ears perked up to that. “Yup, after my friend told me to set up here and it failed, he and I had, ah”—he hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck—“I guess you can call it a fallout.”
The stallion clicked his tongue. “We were stupid,” he said in a shrug. “Mostly me, though.”
“Why?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, in spite of myself.
Leaf snorted in rueful amusement. “I told him to go geld himself.”
My eyes bugged at him. “Gel—! Did you seriously tell him that?”
“I was mad, Crystal.” He sighed, slumping into his chaise. “In case ya don’t know, when yer angry, ya don’t tend to think straight.” He stood straight again, fully facing me. “I can’t pretend that what happened to me is the same to what’s happenin’ to ya now, but it doesn’t mean that ya should lose yer cool.” Leaf sighed again. “If ya do somethin’ stupid, ya could lose them. ” His eyes wandered back to the fire. “And believe me, ya don’t want that happening.”
Part of me agreed immediately. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper and do something that I regretted; I wasn’t a colt anymore, after all.
But that was just it: I wasn’t a colt. I was an adult; responsibilities aside, I had the rights that I once didn’t have. And while getting angry at my parents for acting irrationally wasn’t necessarily the right choice it was still my choice. Somewhere within me I felt grateful for Leaf’s reminder—for the most part I felt as if I was being patronized. I didn't grace him with a response. The silent treatment was petty, petulant even, but I’d be darned if I didn’t vent myself in some way.
Leaf’s hurt expression was telling; the meaning of my silence wasn’t lost on him. If he had any qualms, however, he did not voice them and silently observed the dancing flames.
It was saddening when I begrudgingly realized that I might have just alienated the only friendly pony who I knew here.
The word of the evening was silence: not a soul spoke at dinner barring one small exchange between Iron and Leaf about bedding for me. He unfolded a thin mattress from one of the couches and provided me with a pillow and duvet for the night. He bid his farewell and went home for the night. Both my parents went to Lyra’s bedroom immediately afterwards.
It felt too warm and it was too early; I couldn’t sleep. My eyes wandered over the hot embers that still remained in the fireplace as I mulled over things. That fire is just like your relationship, Crystal: it’s dying.
I scowled at that. This whole trip, apart from the beginning, had been tense. It was easy to place the cause of it on Lyra and her beliefs, but I knew life wasn’t that simple—not as simple as it once was, at least.
Another glaring point of contention was my work. The mere notion that I wanted to write something that might have presented some redeemable qualities for humans struck a nerve. It went back to Lyra; if I said positive things about humans would definitely put me in the minority along with my grandmother, and I’ve seen the consequences of doing that.
She was still wrong about humans, that much was for certain. There couldn’t have possibly been enough good in humanity to excuse their destructive nature, and while advanced technology and social aspects were definitely a plus, they had much to explain for everything else.
I chuckled darkly. Not a human lives to excuse his species’ wrongdoings.
And that brought to mind about the other species: not many lived nowadays. There was a zebra who approached her seventies, and she was considered the youngest zebra in existence; there was a griffon community in Manehattan that was still strong, but they only numbered in the few hundreds; the last minotaur died some years ago in an accident of all things. All of them, including humans, had had a cruel destiny, but it was difficult to say that humans were undeserving of it.
I shuddered at my memory of a nuclear explosion. Granted, it was only a graphical representation of what had been recorded, but the scale of destruction was unthinkable before we came across humanity.
“Enough,” I said to nopony in particular as I rose from the mattress. It wasn’t uncomfortable and I was used to much worse, but sleep just wasn’t coming to me. I headed for the kitchen and picked out a packet of green tea and a cup. I set the water to boil when I noticed a radio on the counter. How hadn’t I noticed it before?
I shrugged: might as well put on some music while I wait.
The dial was on a familiar frequency, Radio Equestria, and knowing that their news bulletin was done at this time of night, I turned on the radio to the sound of soothing string music. I felt a content smile coming on as I leaned by the counter. I didn’t recognize the piece; hopefully they would say what it was after it finished.
Much to my irritation, the violin cut to a voice. “We interrupt this programming for a special report,” a voice chimed—a mare’s, I noted. “The Royal Observatory of Canterlot has just determined that the shooting stars reported earlier tonight were debris of the human space structure formerly known as the International Space Station.” My eyebrow piqued. “Details are still coming in, but astronomers assure that there is no danger, as the space debris will be destroyed upon contact with the barrier.”
“That ought to shut up the conspiracy nutters,” I muttered to myself, ignoring the interview with an official. There had been a lot of rumours about some humans managing to escape into space, and the most popular one was that there were still some in that space station of theirs.
Of course, I didn’t believe any of it, just like any sensible person. No creature was made for living in space, and humans were no exception. They had neither the biological, technological or logistical means to live in space, let alone thrive in it. That didn’t satisfy some and they insisted otherwise. But hopefully with this piece of news, they’d focus on something useful rather than chasing after non-existent humans.
...well, they weren’t completely naïve for thinking that. The fact that humans could go to space and did was mind boggling. If there was one thing that I admired about humans was the fact that they did go to space and to the moon, without the aid of magic at that. Had we the same capacity, a whole new horizon for exploration and discovery would have been available to us. Humans wouldn’t have capitalized on that opportunity like we would have. They probably went to space only to search for something that would make them more powerful.
I found my eyes widening slightly: why was I suddenly so negative about humanity? It hadn’t been a day since I was defending some of their achievements to that mare back at the hotel, so why was I being so cynical now?
The image of my scowling parents was enough of a clue. I groaned. Great, now I’m being partial to satisfy one party rather than being objective. Basic social studies—why was I forgetting the essentials of being a sociologist? My scowl grew at the discovery of yet another distasteful consequence of my coming to the Azures with my parents.
“...declared to take place the day after tomorrow,” the radio announcer went on. What was supposed to take place? “His widow, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, is expected to appear along with other close relatives.” Ah, the prince’s funeral. “We now return to our scheduled programming.”
This time slow organ music filled the kitchen, along with—
“Oh, horse apples!”
—the gurgling of water spilling over the pot and, soon afterwards, a muted yet audible yelp of pain.
I gingerly rubbed my hoof. Why did I reach for the pot with my hoof rather than just levitate it? Stupid me.
With the water incident dealt with along with what remained of my tea, I was lying on my bed, still fully awake and now with a slightly tender hoof. Asides from the burn, something ate at me, and it wouldn’t stop till I satisfied it. I knew exactly what it was, but I needed to sleep, curiosity be darned.
Didn’t you have this discussion earlier today?
I grimaced. That I did, and I decided then that it made the most sense to satisfy it. If it meant losing some sleep... well, I could live with it.
The only issue was that if I did that, I would be doing it a hall away from my parents. That meant that I’d risk being found out, something that both Leaf and Lyra told me to avoid. Again, the consequences of the discovery of Lyra’s memory were clear. How would I deal with the with the possible scenario of explaining myself? Could I even do it without having either one of them overreacting? My lips twitched downwards as I considered my odds.
With a swift flick of my hoof I tossed the blanket away and rose up. “Darn it all,” I mumbled, making my way upstairs.
The house shrouded in the night’s shadows felt completely alien and surprisingly unsettling. I hadn’t noticed it earlier during the day or even earlier in the evening, but the old home was really, really noisy: planks groaned under the weight; tiles creaked with age; shutters rattled in the wind. Were a wolf’s howl and the hooting of an owl added, it would have been the perfect ambience for a horror story.
I allowed myself to cast a light spell. The orb at the tip of my horn glowed less brightly than it would normally, but I really didn’t want to risk stumbling into my parents. Hopefully Dew’s sleeptrotting hadn’t rebounded since I had last left.
Slowly and carefully I walked up the stairs, taking my time deliberately with each step on the wooden staircase. The boards protested, but they were mostly quiet; with my heightened awareness it was difficult to say whether or not they were quiet enough, however.
Long seconds had passed when I finally made it to the corridor. A faint rumble could be heard coming from my left. A small smile crept up my face—snoring. Tonight looked to be a quiet night on the part of my mother. Hopefully I wouldn’t find her sleeping form stumbling about.
I continued to the study on the right, taking care with the door. Once I closed it behind me, I thought for a second to lock it before dismissing the idea. What if for some reason Iron or Dew want to open the door and find it locked? It would have been suspicious, and besides, I didn’t know where the key was nor did I have time to look for it. I brightened the orb a notch to light up the study a bit more and made for the desk. From the drawer I pulled out the strongbox and opened it.
“Woah.” The orbs almost glowed. They weren’t as eye-catching as a neon sign was, but even in the dim lighting I could see a faint light emanating from the polypuzzle-look-alikes. Maybe these things had different effects during the night? I answered my own question with a shake of the head: Lyra would have mentioned something about it in her letter.
Probably.
I am not going to have that argument again, I scolded myself, sucking it up and picking up the first memory orb. It’s first bit was already locked in place, and like a polypuzzle, awaited another bout of interaction for it to be more complete.
Except it glows in the dark and isn’t a polypuzzle and is a magical artifact that I don’t know about and could have serious repercussions if I get caught oh Celestia what am I doing?
I shook myself out of the brief panic attack and breathed deeply: in slowly, ten seconds—out slowly, ten seconds. I could do this; I already had done it before. Nothing had changed since then. With renewed confidence, I reached for the moving part with my magic and searched for the pattern.
Even with my previous experience, I yelped when the orb’s glow grew and overwhelmed my light spell. And just as suddenly it had started, the light winked out into blackness.
Flying. Flying. We’re flying!
The roar of the propellers and what I could only guess was some sort of steam engine (without expelling the telltale cloud of vapour) was nothing like I had ever experienced before, seeing as how before it had always been with the much quieter balloons or pegasus-drawn chariots. The whole thing shook a whole lot more too, the seats were quite uncomfortable, and the interior was cramped with ponies and humans.
But we were flying in an engine-powered machine! That alone made up for the inconveniences. Well, that and the view. While considerably more enclosed than the chariot that we had flown in with, the human helicopter had sliding doors on the sides of the main carriage with windows, allowing a view of the outside world. From where I sat, I saw another of the same dragonfly-like machines flying parallel to us—one of four others. It was similar to the more familiar helicopters in that it used two rotors: one to lift the whole thing and one to keep it from spinning out of control. That’s where the differences began: the chassis was more elongated to allow for more inside space and sported a longer tail to compensate the enlarged body; the front of the helicopter was much more defined than its Equestriani counterpart, resembling a mare’s snout somewhat; the overall grey colour scheme also belied its military nature, with the decal of a white five point star on a navy blue circle along with black lettering on the sides. Equestriani helicopters were a novelty item and personal transports, whereas human ones looked to be built with a more utilitarian purpose in mind.
That, and I doubted that this thing was powered by a single human’s pedalwork.
Unlike the one we flew on, the helicopters flying alongside ours acted both as an escort as a distraction. While Looch hadn’t explained what ‘distraction’ actually meant in this case, he assured that every precaution had been taken for our safety.
“New Yohrk,” a voice resounded in my head above the racket, “that being where our international assembly being established.” Turning back to the interior of the helicopter, I looked to the human in the sharp business suit. Like many other similarities found so far, the suit seemed like something that a noble or businesspony would wear, just refitted for the alien shape. The striped blue and red necktie had come somewhat undone, but he still looked presentable.
“I see,” said Celestia on the side. Her head was craned at low angle because of her size and low-hanging ceiling. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t voice her complaint. “And just how many nations are part of this assembly, Mister Deyuchs?”
“One hundred ninety four, your grace,” came the reply. All of the ponies in the machine, barring the two Guards, turned to face the man with wide eyes.
“Two hundred nations?” Presumptive stuttered at Deyuchs’ —these names!— nod. “A-all humans?” Another nod. I blew a low whistle, which gained me a raised eyebrow on the part of the man.
It had been something of a shock when we learned that the only sapient creatures in this world, but even then, that possibility had been considered back in Equestria. But to hear that there were so many tens of nations...!
“How do you get anything done?” Presumptive asked Deyuchs. “Coordinating with so many different states can’t possibly be easy.”
The man pursed his lips in a pensive pout, looking upwards in thought. “I supposing it being strange,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders. “Sometimes we doing not agreeing on things. It being a difficult task at times.” He let out a chuckle that wasn’t audible over the engine. “But we trying.”
“So that’s every nation? A hundred and ninety four?”
“No, there being two hundred and seven. Not everyone being in it.”
I blew another whistle before scolding myself for it. “I still can’t believe it,” I managed to say. “One species and yet so many nations.”
Another shrug from Deyuchs as well as that odd expression. It was strange; it wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t quite a frown. It was a very neutral smile, and it seemed to be the ‘default’ face from what I’ve seen from the different faces. Even Looch seemed to favour that particular smile.
“I must admitting, the stories you telling me about other races...” He shook his head. “It being all very incredible.”
“But true, I assure you,” Celestia said, keeping her measured smile. “We intend to be open with you. This is why we asked for a convening of your leaders.”
Deyuchs nodded. “I understanding, but understanding this,” he spoke, raising a finger that implied a warning. “The United States of Ahmehreeka, while being a world leader, being not loving by many.”
“But aren’t most of the nations part of the Union?” Presumptive interrupted. “Why would they be members if they did not, well, love it?”
The diplomat blinked, his thick, hairy eyebrows furrowing in apparent confusion. For a moment I wondered if the spell had failed to provide a translation before he broke in fit of barking laughter. Even the human soldiers at his sides turned to watch him with surprised expressions through their gas masks.
“Forgiving me, but the United States being not the United Nations.” Deyuchs straightened, his deep chuckles ebbing away. “Ahmehreeka being my country, but it being a member of the United Nations and holding an important seat in it.”
Presumptive coughed. “I see,” he muttered, suddenly taking an interest in one of the human soldiers’ boots. I couldn’t hide my smirk.
“But what I meaning is this: we being the first to welcoming a foreign species, and many will not liking it.” Deyuchs’ gaze fell. “Many might not even believing it.” He almost whispered that last bit.
Celestia’s smile fell, but did not turn into a frown. In fact, to me, it almost seemed like an imitation of the humans’ ‘default’ smile, and a good one too. I wondered what the Princess was thinking.
“Why is that?” Presumptive asked, genuinely curious.
There was a downwards tug at Deyuchs’ lips. His eyes shifted to the soldier to his right before turning back to Presumptive. “It being complicated,” was all he said. The soldier seemed to grunt an affirmative to that.
The stallion was dissatisfied with the answer. “If your United States are a world leader, why would anyone be negative with anything you do?”
Deyuchs blinked slowly, biting into his lip. The Princess cleared her throat loudly enough to gain Presumptive’s attention. “Perhaps we can discuss that later,” she suggested, earning a smile from the human. What was she doing?
“Yes,” Deyuchs said, tightening his tie. “For now we must preparing you for the secretary of state—my superior.” He straightened up in his seat. “Kahrver Troomahn, a dehmohcrat.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “It being probably a good thing that the current cabinet being dehmohcrat.”
“Is that a tribe?” I asked. I got another chuckle as an answer, although this time even the two soldiers joined in Deyuchs’ mirth.
“I wishing that they being a tribe,” one muttered through their mask. “Then we could sending them to a reserve!” Another round of laughter emanated from the two soldiers.
I just wish we were in on the joke. From the sounds of it, it must’ve been hilarious.
“But yes,” Deyuchs said. “I being not sure what would having happening if we having a rehpuhbleecan one instead.” He shrugged. “I doing not liking thinking what first contact would having resulting in.”
Much to my surprise, Presumptive didn’t jump onto that. Just what do you mean by that, Deyuchs? It took me a moment to realize that I had said my thoughts aloud after seeing the man’s fleshy face twist with a scowl. He looked to both of his companions, gaining no response from either. The hands on his lap squeezed one another. “Not to meaning any offense,” Deyuchs spoke slowly, his tone even and deliberate, “but you may not being here speaking otherwise.”
This time Presumptive didn’t miss his chance. “And what do you mean by that, sir?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Once more Deyuchs seemed to be at a loss for a response. I wasn’t much of a diplomat, but from the way he and his body spoke, it wasn’t because he didn’t have one, but because the ones he did were not comfortable for him to say aloud.
I blinked. Huh, I might be cut out for this after all.
One of the soldiers to the side indicated to us with his gloved hand. “You small large-ponies?” His hand balled into a fist before he splayed it open, making a ‘boom’ with his mouth. The two Guardsponies stares hardened. Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. Deyuchs and the other soldier turned their heads, incredulous. Only Presumptive and I didn’t respond. To that, the soldier added one word: “Dead.”
Now my breath caught itself in my throat. I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.
“We would have died?!” Presumptive exclaimed, taking the words straight from my mouth. “Why would you kill new beings that were trying to contact you?”
Deyuchs raised his hands, possibly to placate us. “Please, understanding that that might not having happening,” he pleaded. “We doing not having any previous experience with this sort of scenario; we having considering the possibility of hostile visitors. In fact, it being Lesser-Admiral Bohski’s intervention that preventing the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd or any of the other ships from launching large-explosive-rockets at your group.”
Celestia lowered her head, displaying her horn. Darkly, she asked, “You mean to tell me that you attack first and ask questions later when it comes to otherworldly beings?” The grimace on her muzzle deepened. “That’s not very conducive to starting relations.”
Deyuchs’ own scowl grew. “Like I saying, we having no experience with this!” With a huff, he continued, “Our only protocol regarding first contact requiring us to be extremely cautious and observing at a distance. It being not by chance that you being placed in quarantine while I arriving.” He threw his hands up. “Even that we messing that up. For all we knowing, everyone on the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd and in this helicopter may having some unknown disease.” Deyuchs pointed a finger at us. “That going for you as well. Who being to saying that we not having infecting you? You being aliens, we not having the luxury of knowing everything about you.”
The Princess tipped her head upwards slightly. “Apparently we lack the same knowledge about you as well, unfortunately.”
I was still terribly upset by the fact that I was alive thanks to a human taking a risk, but now that he had said it, Deyuchs and the other humans had been rather forgiving as to how they had received us. Now everything that they did seemed to make sense: the less-than friendly reception; the often vague answers provided to our questions to our hosts on the ship; the fact that they seemed only comfortable to provide us water but absolutely refused to offer us food when requested.
Presumptive shook his head. “That explains a lot,” he muttered. “It’s clear that in a situation like this one, a lot can go wrong. I mean, we had an inkling as to why the crew was so stand-offish with us, but we didn’t imagine it’d be out of concern for both our safety and yours.” He glanced sideways. “At least, I hadn’t.”
“Neither did I,” I added.
“I suspected,” Celestia said. “But as Presumptive said, I didn’t expect it.”
The Guards didn’t add anything—typical.
Deyuchs began to fix his tie again. “I seeing. Doing understanding, anything we doing not being necessarily out of malice or apathy.” He snorted, tugging at a corner of his lips to form a lopsided smirk. “The only reason we being not keeping you quarantined or asking you to returning to your Equestria being because other powers knowing.” With a forceful tug, he tightened the tie. “We being forced to taking this option. The other two choices would ruining our public image.” His ‘neutral’ smile returned.
For some reason that I couldn’t quite fathom, that smile fit the mood in the helicopter perfectly.
It had been a long flight before there was something other than the sky and ocean that was visible through the window. Deyuchs had told us but I don’t think anyone had imagined New Yohrk to be this expansive. Once we were near, I couldn’t see anything but a sea of concrete and glass in the horizon.
And goodness, the buildings!
Skyscrapers that put the tallest Manehattian towers to shame; paved roads filled to the brim with metal carriages; such activity was easily unrivaled when compared to anything that we had back home. Regardless of everything else, humans (or at least these Ahmehreekans) were incredible builders. Apparently the old descriptions weren’t entirely incorrect.
As we approached what was described to us as a ‘helicopter landing site’ on a pier, Deyuchs went over the detail as to how we would enter the ‘general assembly’ building of the UN Headquarters after having a conversation with someone on a device handed to him.
“We doing not having permission to landing in the complex itself,” he explained. “The helicopter landing site is a short drive from the headquarters along FDR road and first avenue. The NYPD —New Yohrk’s police force— having clearing the road and stopping all traffic for our convoy. Once we landing you will having to moving fast into the transports to avoiding any unnecessary distractions.”
“What about the meeting with your secretary of state?” Celestia asked.
“There having being a slight change in plans” Deyuch clarified. “He will meeting you immediately after the UN session.” He arched his thick eyebrows. “Being that alright?”
“That is entirely fine,” was the Princess’ reply.
The man nodded. ”When you arriving at the UN Headquarters, you will being in the hands of the UN security forces. You will following anything that they telling you.” Deyuchs’ voice grew quiet. “This being already a tricky situation, please doing not complicating it further by causing any trouble in international territory.”
“You’ll have nothing to fear from us,” Celestia assured.
The diplomat laughed halfheartedly as the helicopter set down on the pier. “Honestly? I being worried about some of the delegates’ reactions more so than what you might doing.” The doors opened. “Now coming—let’s getting going.”
In good order, Deyuchs and the two soldiers exited the helicopter before signalling us to follow. Celestia went first, followed by the two Guards, then by Presumptive and me.
As I stepped out I walked into a different world.
It was deceptively familiar: my time in Manehattan made me recognize some of the sights, sounds and smells of New Yohrk, although there were noticeable differences: some heavy musk or odor that made my nose scrunch up automatically; sirens akin to those on ambulances blared in the distance, barely audible above the helicopter blades; all of the structures were a dull grey, just like the overcast clouds. As big as the city seemed, it appeared rather sad.
Then again, it might have just been a poor day for me to judge it so.
A canvas tunnel had been set up for us, leading to a heavily guarded convoy of metal carriages on rubber wheels. Kars, I reminded myself. All of these kars had black bodies with smoked black windows, making it impossible to see the inside. One of these was different: this particular kar looked as if somepony had stretched it out, leaving it long and short compared to its bigger, boxy-er counterparts. The humans (who were wearing an enclosed white suit with a glass visor that appeared similar to the hazardous materials and energies suits that we had back home) ushered us towards the long kar.
“This being the best thing we could finding in such short notice,” Deyuchs clarified, walking along with us. “Normally this being using to transporting humans, but it should sufficing.”
Celestia huffed, her diplomatic smile gone. “It’ll have to do,” she said, entering the carriage first.
Inside, the kar interior was completely made out of a number of blacks and browns. There were multiple doors to the sides, but only the rear one appeared to be unlocked. There was a single long black chaise on one of the sides of the kar, along with some throw pillows haphazardly placed around strap harnesses. “For safety,” Deyuchs answered when Presumptive asked.
Deyuchs slunk against the side of the kar near one of the edges of the chaise, whereas the Princess elected to rest upon a pillow opposite of the man. I decided to sit right on the other edge of the chaise: it wasn’t designed for pony use, but it was infinitely more comfortable than the bench on the helicopters. I couldn’t quite tell what sort of material was used for the chaise cover; I’d have to ask someone about it later. It was here where the other Guards that rode on one of the helicopters joined us, bringing the people inside, including Deyuchs and the two flanking security officers, to a total of twelve.
The mismatch of helmetless Guards, the now disheveled Presumptive, and the prim and pristine Deyuchs and princess along with the walking white hazmatene suits was ridiculous, comical even, had the context been different.
“Being we good?” one of the walking suits asked Deyuchs once we were all strapped in and buckled up.
Deyuchs looked over us, prompting a somber nod from Celestia. “I guessing so,” he murmured. Turning to the agent, he then added, “Getting us moving then.”
The suited agent nodded and spoke into a device. “Package being ready to being delivering. Status green.” Then we got rolling. While we couldn’t see the outside, it wasn’t difficult to tell that we were moving at a steady pace with the convoy escort.
I was somewhat conflicted: the Ahmehreekans seemed to care for our safety, but some of the comments by Deyuchs and the way that we were treated, said otherwise. Getting a Royal Escort back in Equestria was the epitome of social status. You were essentially paraded. Here? It felt as if I was a prisoner. Hopefully that wasn’t the intention, and, perhaps in a way that only Pinkie Pie would approve, we were being kept hidden for the big reveal.
Still, the ride wasn’t very fun. At least the helicopter flight was novel. This didn’t manage to impress as much.
Thankfully it didn’t take long before we came to a stop. The agents told us to wait for ‘the area being secure’ before we were allowed out.
This time, instead of a pier in the middle of a city built on islands, there was a great big alabaster, concave structure with a grey domed expansion on top of it. Dozens of flagpoles flying an incredible array of different colors lined the grass area running parallel with the paved street. Leading into the great building was a living cordon of white hazmatene suits, all of which were facing outwards.
Most anyways—a few stole some backwards glances to catch a glimpse of our group. It was difficult to see through their visors, but I caught more than a few wide eyes behind that protective glass.
“Coming on,” Deyuchs called to us while he flashed an ID card to one of the hazmatene humans. “The assembly having already convening in an emergency session. Letting us not making them waiting any longer.”
With no small amount of trepidation, I followed a seemingly fearless (yet somewhat annoyed) alicorn into the unknown for the second time.
The anxiety I felt was intimately familiar, yet far greater than what I had experienced prior to that moment. Stage fright can do some funny things to a pony who’s not used to it: sometimes they jitter; sometimes they feel dizzy; sometimes they freeze up; all kinds of weird shenanigans can happen.
Then again, most ponies weren’t in my situation. ‘The eyes of the world will being on you in there,’ Deyuchs said. It was somewhat telling that I was feeling the onset of stage fright before we were even introduced. And I wasn’t even going to be the one speaking.
I was rolling my head to loosen up my neck muscles regardless. I’d have meditated for a moment to clear my head as well, but it wasn’t clear when we’d be brought into the assembly hall. I didn’t even know how big this hall was!
I could really go for a cold glass of orange juice right about now.
“How do I look, Miss Heartstrings?” Presumptive asked. Turning to face him I saw that he cleaned up his appearance noticeably: while his auburn coat needed to be washed, he managed to brush both it and his dark grey mane with a brush that a… stagehoof? Eh, I don’t know. Someone offered one to him. His tie was fixed and his rimmed glasses were clear.
“I didn’t take you for one to care much for image, professor,” I chided.
The stallion harrumphed. “Normally I wouldn’t, but these are not normal circumstances, Miss Heartstrings.” He placed the brush on a table that was too tall. “Honestly, I don’t know how you make your wild mane work.”
I glanced furtively to both sides before smiling sheepishly. “I guess it, um, runs in the family?” I offered lamely. Smooth.
Presumptive deadpanned. “I see,” he said dully. He turned to Celestia. “Are you well, your majesty?”
Celestia, for her part, looked impeccable as always. Even the sour expression from earlier was replaced by her usual appealing smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” The smile fell somewhat. “I’m just feeling somewhat hungry.”
I had to stifle a groan. “Please Princess,” I whined, “don’t remind me.” As if on cue, a quiet rumble from my stomach punctuated my feelings. I almost blushed as Celestia giggled behind a hoof. “What I’d do for a hay burger right about now…” I muttered.
“No food until we can telling what being safe for your consumption,” Deyuchs repeated for what must’ve been the third time. “We cannot allowing for you to suddenly getting food poisoning or, worse, dying while speaking.”
I shuddered at the image of me keeling over while emptying the contents of my stomach. Thanks, Deyuchs. That little picture will be a big help in overcoming the stage fright.
He suddenly snapped his fingers and turned to Celestia. “I almost forgetting: doing your spell working over long distances?”
Celestia slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid it only works within earshot. I could amplify my voice, but I don’t think anyone would appreciate it.”
Please don’t, I pleaded silently, recalling the time Luna had come that one time during Nightmare Night. My ears rang for nearly two days after that incident.
Deyuchs pouted pensively. “Doing you thinking that the spell would working if we artificially replicating your voice instead?”
It was the Princess’ turn to look pensive. “I don’t see how that would work, unless it’s a natural amplification of the actual sound, and not one that is replicated.”
“Darn,” Deyuchs swore. “I thinking you will needing a speaker to relaying what you saying. Communication here being key, and we doing not wanting any misunderstanding.” He grimaced. “We cannot affording to having any.”
Celestia flicked her wings once in something of an approximation of a shrug. “Whatever works best.”
The man nodded, turning to another human dressed in one of those hazmat suits, the head of security called Rowsahreeah. “I will being with her grace while out there. Can you ensuring that I will not being stopping?”
Her voice was muffled by the suit, but the message translated into my head was as clear as day: “I having to running this through with my superiors, sir.”
“Doing so, please.”
Rowsahreeah nodded and pulled out a device from her belt and began speaking into it through her sealed visor. I had already seen Deyuchs and some of the other humans use one or something similar, but I was fascinated as to how it functioned. It had been agreed earlier on the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd that humans, in spite of their familiarity with the concept of it, did not use magic. There just simply wasn’t enough AME in this world (or at least in this part of the world) for any creature to develop a means to take advantage of it.
It still didn’t make their machines seem any less magical.
At the end of the conversation that the officer supposedly had with someone else she nodded to Deyuchs. “They will allowing it,” she finally said. “They not expecting the request, but they will allowing it.”
“Thanks,” Deyuchs replied, shaking the officer’s gloved hand. He faced us. “Letting us going over it again: doing you knowing where to going and what to doing?” His eyes first flicked over to Celestia. “Your grace?”
“I shall follow you over to the sealed compartment with a table and be seated. When called, I’ll make my address to the General Assembly, then answer any questions that the members of the assembly will undoubtedly have,” she answered promptly, wearing her friendly smile.
Deyuchs nodded. “Very good.” He looked over to me and Presumptive. “And the two of you?”
Presumptive waved a hoof. “We will stay seated at the table with the Royal Guards and not speak unless asked to.” I nodded in agreement.
Another nod from the diplomat. “One thing to noting: please doing not using any magic for any reason,” he cautioned. “Some of the member states delegates may not reacting well to the sight of something levitating suddenly.”
“It’s not like it would be easy anyways.” I smirked. “I don’t think you have anything to fear from us,” I added confidently.
Deyuchs gave me a slow nod. “Good—okay we being ready then.” He looked to Rowsahreeah. “We being ready,” he repeated.
Rowsahreeah addressed us: “Alright, following me. Doing not attempting any strange actions or moves, for we will using force to restraining you.” She eyed Celestia in particular when she said the last bit with no small amount of distrust. The Princess for her part only maintained her stony smile.
Rowsahreeah led the way, followed immediately by Deyuchs, Celestia and the two Guard officers, while Presumptive and I came afterwards, trailed by two security officers in hazmatene suits. The other four Guards flanked the Equestriani delegation with two per side. These four were flanked by human security officers suited up in those white hazmatene suits as well. Silently, we walked down along the white hallway. Towards the end we came across a door with a horizontal slit on it, too high up for any of our delegation except the Princess to see through it. Rowsahreeah slid a card through a wall mounted receiver and the door unlocked.
Once through the threshold, I suddenly felt rather small.
The hall that housed the General Assembly was huge. We had entered it through one of the side entrances, so the auditorium where sat a sea of humans of all colors and races was right in front of us. It even had an upper level where there were even more people sitting, flanked by huge abstract murals. To the right was what I would have called the ‘stage’, which consisted of two dark marble podiums, the one behind the black one being bigger and placed higher up. On it sat three humans overseeing on the whole hall. Behind them was a golden wall with a large circular emblem emblazoned upon it: a rounded map of what I could only guess was a flattened version of this world, with longitudinal and latitudinal lines ‘forming’ the world. This globe was inscribed in a wreath of crossed olive branches, albeit highly stylized. On both sides of the emblem were large screens, currently focused on… us? How in the world?
At first we judged the humans to be primarily utilitarian while we were on their ship. This went to show that when they built to impress, they were darned impressive.
What had been a steady hum of conversations among the delegates of the human member states gave way to a tense silence as all eyes fell upon us. I could spy dropped jaws, pointing fingers, even exchanged glances of disbelief.
Trust me, I’m as stunned as you all are.
Regardless of my body’s attempts to block my legs, I managed to keep a somewhat confident stride as we were led to some sort of sealed compartment with a wooden table with stools to the left of the podiums. Once seated (and, I suspected, locked in), we looked on to the three humans on the large marble podium. The one in the middle, a dark-skinned male from the looks of it, tapped the microphone before him.
“Ladies and gentle-human-males of the Assembly,” he spoke slowly, his normal voice amplified by the microphone through some unknown magicless means, “as you all undoubtedly having realizing by now, this being not like any emergency session of which we having ever holding.” He glanced towards our table. “Normally there being a specific speaking order, but giving the current circumstances both apparent and explaining to me, I moving to allowing the representative of this” —he fumbled for a moment, looking at us uncertainly—“ah, delegation, to speaking on their behalf.” The man turned to his colleagues on his sides, whom nodded.
The large screens became black, showing writing that I couldn’t decipher. The hall slowly came alive once more with a general murmur as the delegates seem to argue and discuss amongst themselves. Many were too far for the spell to translate anything, but I did catch snippets from those closest:
“Shall we letting the aliens talking?”
“They being small large-ponies! They doing not having the same rights!”
“This making little sense…”
“But they not being members, there being a procedure after all.”
“This being unprecedented...”
“They being not humans. It should not being allowed. Right?”
“Being you stupid? We should at least listening to what they having to say.”
My ears folded automatically—that didn’t sound too good.
The screens showed movement: green and red scripts changed at random intervals. It then hit me: those screens were a tally of the delegates! “If only we could read their writing,” I mumbled to Presumptive.
He did not respond, but his grey eyes were sharp as always. He looked to be trying to read the thoughts of the nearest delegates; I couldn't tell whether or not he was having any luck.
Eventually the scripts stopped changing, and were promptly displayed boldly across the screens. The green appeared to be bigger than the red.
“The motion passing.” The first speaker looked to us. “You having the floor,” was all he said.
Deyuchs and Celestia looked to each other, exchanged nods, and rose. The alicorn put on her subtle yet friendly smile, taking a deep breath, eyes closed. The giant screens were solely focused on her.
I noticed only then that I had been holding my breath.
“Greetings,” the Princess began, immediately followed by a repeat from Deyuchs who spoke directly into the microphone. A low murmur grew among the hall, to which Celestia smiled playfully. “I am fully aware how awkward our appearance is to the members of this hall, and I sincerely apologize for the confusion that our arrival has caused.” She waited for Deyuchs to relay his bit. “I am Princess Celestia of the Principality of Equestria, the land mass that resides within the pink ‘bubble’ of which you are most likely aware of.”
This spurred some more harried murmuring among some of the delegates. Unfazed by the minor outburst, Celestia continued after Deyuchs was finished. “We are in your world by no intention of ours. We are just as surprised of you as you are of us.” She eyed some of the nearby delegates who seemed less than convinced. “I would think this is rather implicit, but I will clarify it now for all to hear: we have no hostile intentions towards you or this world.”
Deyuchs seemed to take longer to dictate the last bit for some reason. One delegate far in the back seemed to have started ranting, but was too far off for them to be audible.
“I have come to understand that this is a difficult concept to understand, but I assure you that we are here entirely by accident, and that there is no ulterior motive to our being here.”
Deyuchs hadn’t even finished speaking when a new voice filled the hall. With no translation coming to my mind, I looked about confused. Who was talking? The screens seemed to have shifted to a robed human of brownish color, standing up from their seat, ranting in a tongue that had no bearing on what little Ingleesh I had picked up.
“The Princess having the floor,” one of the men on the large podium interjected, the one with a balding head and glasses, sounding rather annoyed. “You may only speaking after…” He looked to Celestia uncertainly. “…after the Princess being finishing.”
As the screen showed, the robed delegate, disgusted, gestured to his group and they all stood. They promptly walked out of the hall. They weren’t the only delegation to do so.
Having part of an audience leave in the middle of a show always struck a chord in me. I knew that it was never possible to completely please everyone, but having someone walk out on me (even though this was neither a show nor mine) hurt.
The first speaker turned to the Princess. “You may continuing.”
Celestia bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you, Mister Speaker.”
“That being President of the Assembly, Princess,” the man corrected.
“Of course, Mister President,” she amended, “my apologies.” Clearing her throat, Celestia continued, “As I was saying, I understand how this must appear to you: a strange land encased in a bubble suddenly appearing on your world inhabited by strange beings? Your doubts are entirely justified, and were the roles reversed, my people would feel the same towards you.”
That seemed to quell some of the murmurs that still remained. Once more, the humans’ attention was fully focused on the alicorn.
“Rest assured that we have no intention of remaining in your world, for we realize that we do not belong here. We will do everything we can to leave without accident, but I understand this,”—the Princess’ gaze grew grave—“I cannot guarantee that we will leave soon if at all. We have never experienced anything like this, and we might be trapped here.” She gave a long pause, even longer than what Deyuchs needed. “It is under this light that I extend a hoof of friendship with all of the nations of which you represent and invite for a cultural exchange to demonstrate our peaceful disposition.
“I thank the Assembly for their time and attention.” While Deyuchs spoke to the hall, Celestia turned to the President of the Assembly. “I am ready to take questions and answer them to my best ability.”
The three men one the podium talked to themselves, keeping their discussion quiet enough that I couldn’t hear from the table. Just as Deyuchs was finishing up the President nodded. “The floor being now open to any and all delegates who having any queries to voicing,” he spoke aloud into his microphone.
The hall erupted with a myriad of conflicting voices. It didn’t take long for the President to speak up: “Here we will following the normal speaking order. Some respect, please!”
The voices died down once more and the screens focused on a new delegation. The human, a female in a dress a hue darker than my coat, spoke in another language. Deyuchs translated: “The representative of the Brazeeleean delegation asking how you being able to communicating. Should I telling her?”
Celestia nodded. “We have nothing to hide.”
The diplomat turned back to microphone. “They utilizing magic, madam representative,” he said. “As best I understanding it, the Princess casting a spell that allowing meanings to being understood. I being speaking for her because it having only a limited range.”
The Brazeeleean opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. After a few words and a nod, she resumed her seat.
“Doing the Ahmehreekan delegation having anything to asking?” the President asked.
The screens once more shifted focus, this time to a man in a suit similar to Deyuchs’. “What exactly being this bubble?” he asked through Deyuchs. “We having trying to send a non-piloted-machine-scout to investigating your territory, but it being destroyed upon contact.”
So that’s what the ‘wing’ that tried to get into Hoofington was? I hummed softly. That both explains some things… and possibly complicates others.
Once more in the spotlight, Celestia closed her eyes in thought. “I don’t have an explanation for it,” she finally said, eyes shining with the reflection of the lights of the hall. “All we know is that it is of an unknown form magic that is lethal to any and all beings not from our world.” Her face fell. “I’m sorry to say that we have witnessed two humans perish attempting to pass through it.” Before the hall had a chance to respond, Celestia added, “We don’t know as to why we can cross it while you can't. Rest assured that we will do everything to neutralize or suppress that dangerous aspect. Failing that, we will try to come up some way to provide protection to those trying to cross. Any assistance provided in solving this issue will be greatly appreciated.”
The Ahmehreekan delegation spoke once more. Deyuchs face hardened: “He asking why not simply removing the barrier.”
Me and Presumptive observed the Princess carefully, eyes and ears attentive. She seemed to sigh, although I couldn’t tell. “Please understand: the world we originated from was rich in ambient magical energies. Your world is severely lacking in these energies, and we have no idea as to the long-term effects on our biological functions if we are deprived from them for any length of time. For all we know, we may die right here, right now.”
Deyuchs’ final relayed sentence brought on a deathly silence. Presumptive chewed on his lower lip. I felt the need to gulp.
I really, really needed a cold glass of juice.
It felt like a long minute of nopony keeling over when Celestia resumed speaking. “I am possibly risking my life and that of my entourage to warn your people from attempting to cross over our territory. I am doing so because I wish for the fewest possible deaths between our worlds. I am expendable—my whole country is not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Make of it what you will. But I will do what I can to ensure peace and harmony between our people. Will you do the same?”
Deyuchs was slow on the translation, as he looked stunned. Once he was finished the whole assembly reflected his expression.
The Ahmehreekan representative spoke once more. Deyuchs faced Celestia. “Princess, doing your entourage coming willingly knowing that they being at risk? That they could dying?” His question sounded personal as it came out as a near-whisper.
Celestia said nothing; she only glanced at the members of our delegation.
The Sergeant’s nostrils briefly flared as his eyes shone with a sense of unflinching courage before stiffly saluting. The other five Guards followed his lead and saluted as well.
Presumptive, for all of his faults, never so much wavered when he nodded.
I suddenly felt the eyes of an entire world on me.
I knew what was expected of me, and while it wasn’t a lie it wasn’t the entire truth: I had agreed to follow the Princess wherever she went, even when the destination was unclear and the route dangerous. I hadn’t expected all of… this.
I hadn’t expected to risk drowning in an ocean; I hadn’t expected to risk getting blown clear from the skies; to be killed on a cold metal ship; to be at risk from unknown diseases; to be at risk of dying from a lack of AME. I hadn’t agreed to any of this.
And yet I couldn’t bring myself to shake my head or to deny what Celestia had implied. A voice in the back of my head warned me that doing so would push a teetering Equestria over the edge. It was the last thing that we needed and having that on my conscience would kill me… if the AME deprivation or some other maker-forsaken thing didn’t kill me first.
I looked up to meet both Deyuchs and Celestia’s eyes. “Yes,” I announced, punctuating myself with a definitive nod.
Then, somewhere in the hall, came the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping: it was the Ahmehreekan representative. Another from his delegation joined him, and then another, and then yet another. Soon the hall rang with applause from the delegates. I recognized it for what it was; to an amateur an applause was just an applause. But this was different: there were no accompanying cheers, no ecstatic smiles that came with the applause to indicate the audience’s enjoyment or of their approval.
This was nothing more than an applause made out of respect and solidarity of the ‘brave’ and ‘selfless’ act on the part of the aliens to declare their people’s friendly intention.
While the acclamation was not directed at me, it was difficult not to feel overwhelmed by the positive response of the General Assembly. In essence, a population of nearly two hundred nations were applauding us. That was well beyond what I had received during my stage career.
Still, that didn’t overshadow the fact that I would have to have a word or two with Celestia about gambling with my life. Heck, Presumptive could join in as he probably had some words to mince with her as well.
In all of the din with my belly rumbling, I barely heard myself think, Just what have I gotten myself into?
