Millennia: Eye of the Storm

by Thunderblast

16. Top of the World

"Sir! Your suit is ready."

I must have zoned out somewhere in the three minutes it took for the single pony running the dry cleaning shop to scan the reservation card given to me the day before and run into the back of the shop, for which it took him a small raise in his voice to grab my attention.

Blinking out of my trance, my eyes momentarily met with the stallion's, then shifted down to the uniform in dark colors wrapped neatly in a protective layer or two of plastic so as to avoid dirtying in transit.

Shrugging off the possibility that I'd been standing there like a statue for Luna knows how long, I placed ten bits on the counter, which the cleaner gladly took as he exchanged the suit for them.

"Thank you very much," I gave a single nod, taking hold of the hanger sticking through the top of the plastic-wrapped uniform and gently folding it across my back, before heading out of the shop and into the warming streets of Bronclyn, only a few blocks from base.

For once, the outside temperature was absolutely ideal to my constantly fluctuating standards. Not too hot, not too cold, perfection. Spring was in the air, that was for sure. Beneath the warm sun, the Manehattan skyline glimmered fabulously in its radiance, making for a picture-perfect view from across the river, as noted by a few ponies carrying ridiculously large cameras along the waterfront railing, snapping photos as quickly as they could. Tourists.

If it weren't for the decent change of weather, not as many ponies as there were out today would be wandering about, taking in the sights and smells of the city. Countless times passing restaurant after restaurant I would find myself taking in a sizable whiff of freshly-baked Manehattan-style pizza, pasta, or other delectable dishes that were well on their way to making my stomach growl. Seven hours after waking up, and still not a bite to eat was slowly getting to me.

The hunger would have to be pushed off to the side for now, at least until after I drop my uniform off at the barrack. I knew that evening there would be plenty of food and drinks at the grand opening party, or ball, or what ever the heck it was. All I had been informed was that it was a party, with the invitation supposedly delivered to loads of Marines and sailors, and even soldiers as far away as Fort Fetlock.

It made sense for the most part. The event was to be held at GenTech Tower after approximately a year and a half of being under construction. The odd, asymmetrically-shaped high-rise consisting almost entirely of glass with hints of steel beams on the corners and the shiny grey roof, topped with two black antenna spires, one taller than the other, dominated the skyline, becoming one of the city's tallest structures. Or the tallest. I couldn't be for sure.

I only knew the last time I had seen it up close was months prior—on Hearts and Hooves Day, to be more precise. Those working on it truly stepped up their game to finish the thing on its late-April deadline, then to furnish the purchased offices of other corporations moving in to the building. Now it was the first week of May, the supposed-planned time for the building to officially open. That night was tonight.

Once I entered the base through the main gate, I headed to the neat row of barracks to the apartment I shared with Nightpath who, I presumed, was still knocked out after his recent shift schedule alteration, leaving him working throughout the night hours and clocking out just before noon, like another pony I knew. I felt for him.

Between now and 1900—which was when we were due to leave for the party—a list-full remained undone. Lunch, then another short rotational shift at the intelligence offices, as I'd been ordered to by Shadow and Hardstaff months prior, followed by a second shower, and finally, getting dressed, which would take upwards of a half hour or more at least.

***

Having dropped off my dress clothes at the barrack room, I quietly changed out of a light zip-up jacket into my basic working attire—or BDUs, which ever ponies preferred—while minding a slumbering Nightpath, wrapped like an oversized burrito beneath his sheets. That wasn't an uncommon sight in the slightest.

Without a moment to pause, I slipped the closed laptop in a bag built specifically for carrying computers and slung it over my shoulder, heading back outside and down the stairs at the end of the open-sided hall.

Next stop was the Intelligence Facility, where the majority of the base's computer systems are housed. The building is split up into many sectors, each with their own purpose. A second has since been constructed to replace the former, smaller structure that came of use the day the Great Gryphon Constitution attacked. The newer complex was taller, wider, and far more sophisticated overall.

Better yet, the place actually had signs pointing to individual sectors, making getting lost easily a thing of the past. The geology center was located on the southeast wing of the building, near one of the entrances on the east face, and is on the first floor.

For how small it was, the center had only been operated by two or three ponies, max. That made four if I included myself, despite not being full-time staff like these guys were for as long as I was aware this office existed.

Walking in, all three stood gathered near the central console in the darkened room, lit purely by numerous desktop screens in trios—much like my desk on the Eclipse—and a large digital panel on the wall opposite of the door, displaying a regional map with Manehattan in dead center. Out to sea, numerous beacons showed in a lighter blue shade over the water with identification numbers above them. Buoys.

Closing the door quietly, but just audible enough to signal my entrance, I strode in. "Afternoon."

Argonne Lunis—or 'Argony' as we'd nicknamed him—the steel-blue unicorn just a few inches taller than myself, his horn adding to his height and slightly longer than that of an average unicorn, glanced over his shoulder and gave a single nod. "Morning, Lance Corporal," he corrected, speaking in his signature deep scouse accent. "You're early."

I blinked as I took a peek at a digital clock up on the wall showing local time. Not even noon yet. "I seem to have lost track of time."

"Haven't we all?" responded the brunette-coated earth pony, Magnus, seated before a screen in center of the room, his cover off and placed to the side on the desk.

"What are we looking at today, Sergeant Major?" I asked, making my way over to them, removing the backpack from my shoulder.

The sergeant major, a bun-maned mare by the name of Aphrodite, moved her gaze not an inch from the larger screen on the far wall. "Zero activity, Lance Corporal, which is most peculiar. This time yesterday, we clocked about sixty-seven ranging anywhere from 1.2 to 3.4 in a twelve-hour span."

Pulling a rolling chair out and taking a seat, I tapped the space bar on a keyboard, returning the computer from idle mode, before enlarging a map recording yesterday's tremors. Most of the rings—multicolored in nature to tell their depth apart, between darker and lighter colors—centering primarily offshore with the closest epicenter located around twelve nautical miles southeast of the city.

"And there is nothing today?" I repeated, switching windows to a live map recording the region beginning at midnight last night, as it did to reset every new day.

Responded to with shaking heads, it was then Argony who responded with a hint of agitation. "None, not even a trace." I could see why he sounded the way he did.

A frown fell upon my muzzle after taking a second glance at the monitors. Weeks, even months of strange tremors, just to cease now? Unlikely.

I learned most professional geologists would express more concern than usual if such occurred. On rare occasions did a lack of movement signify something much larger to come. A placid Aphrodite made no hysteria in the moment, other than evident, mutual dismay between her and the others.

"Have weeee..." I trailed off briefly as my thoughts collected. "...reset the systems? Could be a refreshing glitch and it is stuck on midnight."

Magnus nodded. "Twice, Star. Twice we have rebooted the instruments. This is live feed."

The frown I wore further pursed my lips as question marks grew larger in my mind with added bewilderment. From my backpack I withdrew the laptop, opening the screen, and turning it on.

Typing carefully on the keyboard and pressing the 'enter' key, the program tied in to the office's main operating system loaded hastily, displaying a map exactly alike the ones on the monitors.

"What about the sensors?" I mentioned, not removing my eyes from the laptop before me.

"What about them?" tediously questioned Aphrodite, head turning to my position.

"Perhaps the last quake rattled some wires, I don't know," I shrugged, unsure if my suggestions were remotely logical to them at this point.

The staff sergeant tapped her chin in thought. "Conceivably. Unlikely. Though, I suppose anything is possible. I will dial the technician, get him over here to take a look," she responded, picking up the receiver for a landline phone on the desk beside Magnus'.

While she spoke to a base technician, I returned my attention to the screen, almost blankly staring at the empty map displaying absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The longer I stared, the more questions arose in my head with endless paths of possibilities racing by. There simply were not enough answers to make any sort of sense here.

***

After carefully removing the plastic wrap encasing my uniform, I worked my way into it without creasing or wrinkling the fabric. First came the pants colored with the trims of dark blue on the jacket, as tight as can be around my waist, followed by the jacket that squeezed my upper torso worse than the pants did my waist.

The whole of the uniform was purely matte-black, with silver pure-steel buttons lining neatly up the center up to the collar, where the regulated breakpoint was. On the sleeves, near the shoulder on the left, the rank emblem of Lance Corporal displayed proudly. The collar, matching black on the outside, while blue the shade of Luna's coat on the inside, stretched partially up our necks and closed around the skin. Any tighter would surely be deadly for whomever wore it.

The collars around the hooves included three silver buttons on the outer sides—rather than just one on the old uniform—with a thin band of night blue looping around the sleeve hole, with the rest of the sleeve tucked neatly inside. Polished black hoof guards had also been provided to keep ponies clean all over. The slightest of dirt or dust, we knew, would tick off any officer who just so happened to spot, or even smell.

A black belt with Princess Luna's moon as the buckle, looped around the pants above the jacket as it extended far beyond the waist line, and last but not least, a white-and-black officer-like cap, with the emblem of the Lunar Marine Corps in fine silver just beneath the top rim.

I was never much of a fan of dressing formally. In fact, as a colt, I hated it with every ounce in me. Whenever elementary and middle school photos came about, it took a lot to bring a smile to my face, knowing how stupid I looked in a suit and tie, and my mane brushed like some cringe-worthy seventies rock star. Those days were embarrassing.

Now, I found myself to be quite fond of the dress uniform. Perhaps because it matched me. Any pony looked good in military dress blacks or whites, everyone knew that virtually. It would also serve as a perfect explanation as to why sailors tend to have strong feelings for one another. Apart from Anchorage, of course.

I never looked at myself in a mirror the way I did tonight. Of course, I needed to ensure every little detail was perfect. In the Marine Core, there is no room for error when it comes to dress uniforms, as others we've witnessed have learned the hard way. The same went for the Navy, albeit slightly less strict. Only slightly.

Yet, on any other occasion when I would look over myself in a mirror, every time, there would be that little nitpicking, degrading voice tossing away any self-esteem I may have had previously.

That voice was my own. I accepted that I was not the best looking of stallions. The few others I've known well enough apart from my battle buddies strictly disagreed, though I knew for a fact that they only did so in attempt to reinflate my poor ego left in the wake of my father's reign.

But, to stare right back into my own eyes, to see the scrutinizing crimson gaze and the still-burning flame in them after all I have witnessed, I felt proud of myself—honored, even—to see just how far I've come in such a short period of time. The self-doubt would exist for as long as I have left on this earth, I knew that.

Nevertheless, to gawk over myself, admiring the uniform I proudly donned and to continue to be around to witness a better future for the city I fought for five months ago left a warm sensation in my once-frigid heart. I felt purity to belong to somewhere at long last. Almost a year since my first day in Manehattan, and I finally come to realize.

I broke the close examination over myself at Nightpath's calling from just beyond the door. "Hey, Star, can you come here for a second?"

Exiting the bathroom, looping around the small corner into our little bedroom, I took notice of the large umber stallion fumbling with the buttons on the front of his jacket, grunting as he struggled to meet one hole with its corresponding button.

The only issue was, each button was one above the correct hole, leaving his jacket completely uneven with one hole hanging below, and one button too high above another. Shaking my head, I walked up.

"Here, you've got it all crooked," I said, motioning for him to stop, and beginning to undo each of the buttons before straightening the jacket out and trying again. The right way this time.

"No wonder," he chuckled softly, looking straight down at me and the buttons as they now slipped into each of the designated slits effortlessly.

Afterwards, I reached up to his collar, straightening it as well until it sat neatly without any creases or awkward points against his neck comfortably. Last, but not least, I wrapped the belt around his waist, above his jacket as with regulation, and clicking the buckle together, twisting it just slightly so that it centered perfectly.

Stepping back, I took one final check over him, smiling. "Better?"

Night responded with a single nod, and then a returning smile. "Better, thank you."

"Look at you, stud. Gonna impress the mares tonight!" I nudged his shoulder with a grin.

That brought a chuckle out of him. "If there will be any. Mares are typically not all interested with these parties. In my experience, that is."

"In your experience? What parties did you go to, party stallion?"

"None!" Night blushed furiously, snatching up the cap for his dress uniform. "Well... maybe, er... one or two when I was a colt."

"Oooooh, so you sneaked out of the orphanage, huh?"

The draft stallion wrinkled his nose, nodding. "On occasion." I furrowed an eyebrow at that. "Okay, maybe every other weekend!"

"I'm messing with you, man," I laughed, leaning my hoof to his chest and dipping my head slightly. "I won't judge."

"I would hope not," he responded, flicking one of his ears and placing the cover flat on his head, adjusting it once or twice to neaten it.

***

Much like our graduation, three each packed into blacked-out taxi carriages, paid ahead of time by the host of the opening party. More than necessary showed up, and some decided to go individually so as to avoid a few carriage haulers leaving without a passenger or two. It seemed the ponies at GenTech anticipated a far larger turnout from the armed forces—more specifically, the Lunar Navy and Marines.

The ride into the city was primarily uneventful, apart from minor congestion on the bridge. It lightened up the deeper into the city we traveled, even though masses of ponies still packed the streets in the late-evening rush. For just about anywhere, Manehattan in particular, that was the norm.

The corner in which the tower was located no longer had concrete barriers, orange-and-white-taped warning fences, and massive building equipment blocking the way. Any remaining notable scent of a construction site was now faint, and the thin coatings of dust left in its wake had washed away with recent showers and cleansing the block.

Around the front faces of the building, crowds gathered on two sides surrounding a temporary pathway leading from the curb up to the sliding glass doors that blended with the architecture of the slender, modern structure. The mass of ponies carried cameras, taking pictures as individuals or duos of finely-dressed mares and stallions strode up the designated walkway and disappearing beyond the wall of glass.

Flashes of cameras lit up the hundred-foot radius surrounding the entrance, reflecting off of the tower's windows and against surrounding buildings, like a photo shoot. That didn't raise questions at all.

Myself, Anchorage, and Silver Edge carefully exited the carriage, as did Nightpath and Ashfall behind ours, among other serviceponies along the edge of the street.

"What is this, a celebrity event?" scoffed Anchorage, one hoof lifted above the red carpet as lights flashed on either sides of us.

"Seems an awful lot like it," a deep voice responded, approaching from just off to our side.

By instinct, we clicked our hooves together and stiffened to attention stance as the second lieutenant strolled in our direction.

His uniform, while overall the exact same as ours—minus Anchorage, who donned white crackerjacks—included prominent differences, the most notable being his rack of ribbons across his left chest, neither of which I or likely any of my buddies knew were.

"Good evening, Marines, and sailor." Arc Nobis nodded once to us. "At ease."

"Fancy seeing you here, Second Lieutenant. I had no clue you show interest in parties," I said, respectfully.

"It is a gala, is it not?" he answered mundanely, adding, "I suppose, as long as there are lights to drown the dark, it should serve as an evening to unwind."

"That it will be, sir," I said with a nod.

Returning the nod, the second lieutenant began to turn towards the door, expression toneless as prior. "Take care, and try not to pass out drinking."

"Will do, sir," Ash replied, only to exchange knowing grins with Anchorage, one that I caught out of the corner of my eye.

This was going to be a long evening.

***

Ignoring nonstop shouting and the flashes of cameras from the press barricaded behind temporary fences, we ventured into the building with many others that had just arrived, splitting off into two elevators.

The event was to be held—or already being held in this case—on the top floor, in the penthouse which, as we came to learn the instance the elevator doors slid open, stretched upward a total of three levels.

The first 'floor' was the wider of the three, covering the whole size of the building, while the two others above it only partially, making an open atrium with an enormous glass wall on the east face that overlooked the lower island and the steadily-darkening ocean horizon. Each floor above had their own little 'balconies' that overlooked the main area on the first level, with glass-and-granite staircases in center, connecting each floor with one another.

To our right as we walked in, a sizable bar with a bluish-white glowing wall behind the racks of alcoholic beverages. A sole bartender served mares and stallions with style, flipping full canteens of pure alcohol and landing them upright on the counter and pouring multiple drinks at once with ponies observing cheering him on every so often above the booming music coming from the makeshift DJ booth and dance floor.

"Man, this place is hopping!" yelled Ash, having to raise his voice, gazing around the enormous room, eyes wide with awe. "This dude has got some serious money!"

"No shit, it's his skyscraper!" retorted Anchorage, shooting him a look of condescension. "How about you start working out at the library instead of the gym, aye?"

Ash pursed his lips in a frown, looking purely offended at the obvious banter insult. Rather than a witty comeback, he simply rolled his eyes and groaned, drowned out entirely against the party noise.

The pegasus sailor brought his hoof up, patting it once audibly on Ash's shoulder, shedding his short-lived snark. "Let us get our drink on, shall we?" he proceeded to smirk afterward.

Responding with a nod and returning a grin, Ash started toward the bar with Anchorage, peering back over his shoulder and calling to us. "You're more than welcome to join us, boys!"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll pass. For now."

Blinking twice, the dark brown draft stallion scanned around him, then back to the bar, and lastly, to me. "I'm going tooooo... go with them!"

Shrugging, I gestured, "Go right ahead, we'll be fine."

"Right. See you in a bit!" Night giddily declared, trotting after the duo.

That makes three morning hangover sufferers. For as much as I'd known Silver to have a knack for cider, he remained by my side. I suppose he wasn't willing to leave me hanging elsewhere all alone.

Though, perhaps we had overestimated the festivity's repute. Excluding drinking and dancing, practically nothing else interested the two of us. In fact, there was hardly anything else to do. That left us with a disenchanting taste in our mouths. Oh, well. At least the music was not half bad.

***

Exiting through the elevator doors as they slid open, Arc Nobis sauntered into the brightened, vacant hall, the tiled floors shined to a point to where they could second as mirrors. He kept the noise of his hooves to a bare minimum.

His sharp violet gaze examined the corridor, a strong scent of polish in the air as he initially took note of. On either side of him sat multiple enclosed rooms, sequestered with inch-thick frosted glass, precluding anypony on the outside from peeking in. Each door, he additionally wrote down in his mind, was also fitted with a card lock for added protection.

From behind, emerging from a corner near the elevator, a security guard strode closer, fixing on to the Marine further down. His hoofsteps against the brand new tile floor were audible from far across the hall, as detected by Arc prior to the pony even spotting him. Rather, he continued with slow steps, examining the individual offices, pretending to not notice the guard.

As the officer caught up no more than a few moments later, he came to a stop a few feet behind. "Sir, you should not be down here. This is a restricted area, only employees are granted access," he sternly insisted.

Halting, Arc glanced over his shoulder, slowly facing the guard and appearing innocent. "Oh, my mistake. I was simply searching for the restroom," answered Arc, nonchalantly approaching the guard, faking a smile that appeared genuine.

Just as the officer had begun to turn away, dropping any prior suspicion he had for the stallion, Arc drew a nightstick hidden beneath his belt, striking the guard to the ground. Before he could scramble up to his hooves, a second blow knocked him unconscious, leaving two sizable bruises where the stallion's mane had been shaved off.

Arc knelt to the officer's side, hastily checking his pockets and snatching a lanyard attached to a security access card, tucking it away into one of the flaps on his dress uniform and peering in either direction to ensure nopony had witnessed. Confirming all to be clear, he stepped over and around the unconscious form, making his way back to the elevator to search another floor.

Author's Note:

Aaaaand it's back from a rather short hiatus, though it was enough to throw me behind once more when I had a decent roll going. Either way, enjoy!

Also, yes, this chapter does switch back and forth between first and third-person.

One more thing, here's the concept art for GenTech Tower!