//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: A Different World // Story: The Canterlot Embassy // by Guesswork //------------------------------// Chapter 5 US Embassy, Canterlot 1:28 PM Eve's horn pulsed with magic as she pushed the last of a half-dozen potted plants into the corner of her office and fluffed the leaves. There you go, ficus, she thought. I hope I have better luck than usual keeping you alive. Her special talent was not horticulture. Still, she'd needed some green in the room. After just a week working in the embassy, she already felt disconnected from the natural environment. At least pony buildings tried to imitate natural surroundings-- wooden floorboards and walls, hewn stone for the castles. This building, on the other hoof, like so many other human buildings, made her feel like she sitting in a plastic box. "Excuse me," said a voice from the door. "Are you Evening Edition?" "Yes, that's me" she said, looking up. A man in a digital-camouflage uniform stood in the doorway. He had broad shoulders and dark skin, with dominant, black eyebrows. His shoulder patches identified him as a member of the US Army. "Major Carlos Martinez," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Edition. I'll be your Pentagon connection here at the Embassy, at least for the time being. Anything having to do with US and NATO activity nearside of the portal, I'm the guy with the answers." "Major Martinez," said Eve, "come in, have a seat. If it's classified material you've got there, close the door." Martinez pushed the door shut, then sat down in the chair across from her. "Wood," he commented. "Wood?" "Not leather," he said. "Never leather around here. That's a shame. The smell of fresh leather is really one of life's finest pleasures." "You really don't waste any time in antagonizing, do you?" Martinez laughed. "Forgive me, I was just poking fun. Let's get started with the armament manifest, if you don't mind." He pulled out a tablet computer and swiped it open. She keyed a wireless connection between their computers and dragged the files over to her screen. Her laptop decrypted the files on-the-fly, opening schematic after schematic of military hardware... Land vehicle manifest: M1A8 Abrams MBT, IAV SII, M113D APC, M116A4 MPV... "I think I'm having that spelling-bee nightmare again," she said. "You'll get used to the acronyms. I can help you translate the list, if necessary-- there's a lot of cutting-edge stuff the Pentagon has given us in the last few days." "Major, anything above a steam-engine is high-tech to us." "Is that right? Well, try not to get any soot on me from your steam-engine iPad over there." Eve swiped to a list of aerial vehicles. She'd known such things existed, of course, but the humans had brought over exactly two flying machines in the past two years. That would be changing now, with the heightened military presence. "AH-64Z Apache Advanced," she said. "Quantity: six. Helicopter gunships. I imagine those are pretty much what they sound like?" "The Z-model with enclosed rotors is barely recognizable from the first generation, actually. Complete EM suite, ablative armor, redundant nano-tech repair systems, multiple smart hardpoints, and a nice, big 30 millimeter cannon. They're designed to carve up enemy tanks, but I think we'll find them pretty useful against pony insurgents as well." "Careful, Major, you're drooling." Martinez laughed. "It's the tech, I promise. My friends in school used to hang Playboy centerfolds in their rooms; I had posters of tank schematics, helicopters, submarines. In the end, though, it's the soldiers that win wars, not their machines." "I guess I don't need to tell you, Major," said Eve, "this military escalation is not exactly making us feel any safer." Martinez shrugged. "Look, I can respect that you ponies are pacifists. But Americans are just not. Not even the liberals are pacifists, even though they wish they were. Oh, they march and hold their signs for peace, but who do they call when someone is kicking down their door in the middle of the night? Their therapist? No, they'll call the cops to come beat the intruder with sticks, because violence is the only lasting solution to violence. Real pacifists get destroyed so thoroughly that even history forgets about them." "As I understand, there are a number of pacifists who have made a great impact on human history." "One was the Son of God, so that's not a good example. As for the rest, Ghandi, MLK, don't get me wrong, I revere them of course, but they are few and far-between, honey. The ones who usually end up in the history books are the George Washingtons and the Ben-Gurions and the Pancho Villas." "Don't forget the General Custers." His eyebrow went up, and a smile crept onto his lips. "Was that a warning, Miss Edition?" "It may be a warning, but not from me. It's coming from all around you. We see all of this military hardware coming into our nation, and it's scaring the hay out of us. And Equestria has never been known to lie down in the face of a threat. You call us pacifists, but we've been at war as many times as you in the last fifty years alone, and if you'll excuse me, I think a threat like Tirek or Queen Chrysalis can stand in the same category as the Soviets or the Third Reich." "That's not even close to correct. The Soviets had--" "Consider our size, Major. We have less than a third of one percent of America's population here in Equestria, and I daresay that we have put up a hay of a fight several times in recent memory, despite being so small. We are not pacifists." Martinez gave her a thoughtful look. "So why aren't citizens allowed to own weapons?" "We don't need them." "If I've learned anything in the past two years, it's that Equestria isn't as safe as it looks. So, I guess you just defeat the hydras and the timber-wolves and the ursa majors with the power of friendship, then?" "Strangely enough, it does tend to happen that way." "Thanks," said Martinez. "I'll use a gun. That's a minor issue, though, compared to the lack of even a semblance of democracy." "Major, I think you'll find that the debate over founding a parliament is alive and well in Equestria." "I understand that. But..." He made a prompting motion with his hands. She sighed. "But I, for one, trust in the Marenarchy. The Princesses, as you humans say, can make the trains run on time. We have a good transportation infrastructure, a hearty economy, and very low crime, especially compared to human society. And before you suggest otherwise, the taxes here are not out of control." "If you say so, Miss Edition, but just for argument's sake, consider if they were. What then? Your government has zero obligation to respond to the people's wishes." "Yet, oddly enough, it does. Don't think for a moment I don't recognize and appreciate that every day. Equines have known real totalitarianism before. We were slaves once, in fact. It's a literal miracle that we have the Sisters to guide us. And you too, if you'd just give them a chance." "Are you seriously suggesting that we put Celestia and Luna in charge of America?" She cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. "How do you think they'd do?" Martinez just shook his head. "One day, you're all going to change your tune. Mark my words, equine. You guys are a lot closer to us humans than you'd like to think. Things are always great while things are great. But what happens when the radicals finally stop talking and really try to overthrow your government? What choice will Celestia have? She will rain fire down upon them. Then, what if she's not convinced that she's gotten all of them? She's going to have to start questioning ponies. What if those ponies won't answer her questions? Will she compel them with magic? Will she mind-control them? It's that easy, Miss Edition. One of these days, you're going to wish you had something as enduring as the US Constitution to protect you." "So you say, but who's going to protect us from the US Constitution?" said Eve in exasperation. She dictated from one of the documents on her tablet. "'This military escalation is purely for self protection. This is not an invasion.'" She laughed. "Not an invasion. It actually says that." "Well, yeah," said Martinez, "it's not an invasion. The President wanted to be clear, and so do I. We have no intention of invading Equestria." "Just the motive, ability, and opportunity." He shrugged "When you deal with the USA, some things are a given." Eve huffed. "You really tell it like it is, Major." "Hey, if you want someone to sugar-coat it for you, you can talk to your bosses at the State Department." "You know what?" said Eve. "I actually prefer your method. It's only been a week since I started working for the government, but already feel a little starved for the truth. Your brutal honesty is kind of brutally refreshing. Kind of." "I'm glad you think so. A lesser pony would have thrown me out of her office by now." "The day is young, Major." * * * Camp Everfree a.k.a. "The Green Zone" UN/NATO Base Everfree Forest, Ruins 11:02 AM Spike the Dragon had known Dex Davenport for the better part of two years now, and as far as he could tell, the General's eyes were permanently squinted. It was as if the General was forever pressing into an invisible wind, or peering down a set of iron-sights. "Hey dragon," said the General, as they watched the parade of military vehicles rumble past. "You want to hear a messed-up story?" "How could I possibly pass on an offer like that?" said Spike. "Apparently, the first scientists to create the portal went insane. That's what happens to people who look directly into the event horizon. Other sentient life-forms too, I'd imagine. Some of our people think it's because it forces a person to witness the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. It makes a person's mind split like a log." "You promised 'messed-up,'" said Spike. "And you delivered." "It was a huge loss for the project," said Davenport. "A huge loss for science. It's a good thing we had their research notes and prototypes. As you can see, we made do. But after that first debacle, we made sure to set the portals up remotely and use robots to build a big metal box like that one." He pointed with a craggy finger at the portal trailer-- really more of a wheeled building-- which opened on one side with a roll-up gate. From this maw trundled a steady line of armored vehicles, which had been rolling past for the better part of twenty minutes now. Tanks, APCs, Humvees, trucks, all piloted remotely from Earth. Some of the trucks held men, Spike knew. Men who would shortly be waking up from the anesthesia required to survive the inter-dimensional trip. The line of vehicles clattered down the ramp into the unpaved, dirt courtyard, lining up in neat rows along the treeline. Spike shifted his weight uneasily. The might of the US military was finally beginning to dawn on him. Even this tiny fraction of US power was a bit overwhelming, even to a dragon. He was about a quarter of the way to full-grown these days-- about three meters tall, give or take. Huge by pony standards. But every single one of the human vehicles outweighed him by tons. "It's like you have your very own army of dragons," Spike commented. "What was that?" asked General Davenport. He was struggling to open a little foil packet that he'd retrieved from his pocket. "Damn it!" he growled. "We can put a man on Equestria, but we can't design a package that normal people can open!" At last, he managed to get the foil off and shake the contents into his hand. They were tiny white squares. He popped them into his mouth and chewed vigorously. "Candy?" said Spike, his spines perking up. "Sort of," said the General. "Nicorette." "Can I have some?" "Trust me, kid," said the General. "You're better off without it." A tank rolled by, shaking the ground beneath them, and Spike had to steady himself on his haunches to keep from falling over. Black smokestacks roared, treads clattered. Just the size of the armored vehicles was intimidating, and of course, he'd been briefed on their armament. And there were dozens of them, one after another, now crowded the clearing. If the humans wanted to make a statement, they sure as hay were succeeding. "I've had plenty of experience with dangerous magic," he said to the General. "But you just can't mass-produce magic like this." The General just shook his head, looking solemn. After another minute or two, he cursed under his breath, then let out a grumbling and frustrated sigh. "It's too bad things went this way, dragon." "You mean the bombing?" "Everything. The bombing, Kobayashi getting shot, and now this." He motioned at the motorized armor column. "I thought you wanted this," said Spike in an ambivalent tone. "It's pretty safe to say that humans on this side of the portal know what a bad move this is," said the General. "Those of us who've been here since the beginning especially. This kind of thing is insulting to the Princesses and antagonistic to the public. But back home, dragon, well, it's a different story there." "And literally, a different world." "Damned right." "General..." said Spike, deciding whether or not to check his candor. "I have to admit that the response is not entirely unwarranted. It may not seem like it, but there was a time when I was persecuted for being a dragon. I can sympathize with how it feels when pony prejudice rears its ugly head. And yet..." "And yet, you're a sworn defender of Equestria," finished the General. "And how can this not present a clear and present danger? I get it. I just hope that Canterlot understands. And by God, we'd better smash the New Dawn fast, or this is going to get worse." "General, you have every right to defend your enclave here. Just know that spectacles like this don't make the Marenarchy overeager to help out with what some consider the real business of cross-portal interaction. Things like exchange programs, and the trade summit, which, according to Twilight Sparkle, is hanging by a thread." "Ambassador Lansing said the same thing to me." The General chewed his gum and shook his head. "It's bullshit: all of it. All of these machines. Mark my words, dragon, we'll never win a war on terrorism with conventional military units. Especially not heavy armor. What we need is special-forces, solid intelligence, and covert air drones. Find 'em, lase 'em, drop a missile on their head from orbit. Unconventional warfare in other words. The kind that has been leveled against us." He waved his hands at the thousand tons of steel before them. "This isn't for the terrorists, it's for the cameras." He pointed at the long rows of news photographers documenting the military roll-out. CNN. FOX. MSNBC. There were ponies behind the lenses.