Chapter 3: Dawn
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Princess?” the red and white winged pegasus asked Princess Celestia, who was perched in a semi-regal fashion on a futon. “We can always cancel.”
“Medevac,” Celestia began, taking a sip of one of Foxfire’s tea blends, “you’ve had me all but shackled to a bed for six weeks now. I think I can handle a simple interview from a reporter.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Medevac replied, hesitantly. “Just remember we can stop the interview at any time if you start feeling weak.”
“Tell you what,” Celestia said, curious as to why the usually bold paramedic pegasus was acting in such a timid manner. “Why don’t you tell me if I’m up to it.”
Needing no further invitation Medevac swept one of her wings along the length of Celestia’s body. As the gentle pegasus feathers glided from forelock to dock, they relayed a wealth of information to their owner about the body of the alicorn. Celestia looked at Medevac in concern as the pegasus worriedly bit her lip while digesting what her feathers had told her.
“What’s wrong?” Celestia asked, setting down the teacup.
“Nothing,” Medevac instantly responded. “You’re in nearly perfect health.”
“Then why the long face?” Celestia probed. Medevac may not have been one of “her” little ponies, but Celestia had been nurturing and guiding ponies for far too long not to want to find out what was troubling the pegasus.
“Did anyone ever tell you how bad off you were, after we got you out of the Godwindigo?” Medevac asked back, and Celestia was surprised to see that her self-appointed physician was nearly in tears.
“I know I wasn’t in very good shape,” Celestia replied carefully. “I seem to recall sleeping for the next several days.”
“You nearly died,” Medevac blurted out. “Another twenty or thirty minutes and Godwindigo would have killed you to power itself.”
“I… see,” Celestia responded, surprised at how near a thing it actually had been. “Is that why you’ve been so worried about me?”
“No doctor wants to lose a patient,” Medevac stated firmly. “Death is our enemy, and we fight it with everything we have on behalf of every patient we ever meet.”
“Everything dies, and everything has its time,” Celestia replied, “Even the flower and the tree. Even you, and even me.”
“I’ll give you the same reply I gave the God of Death when I saw him looming over you,” Medevac riposted, voice rough with emotion. “Not today. Not this day.”
Celestia reached out with her wings and gently enfolded the pegasus into a warm embrace. The wetness the alicorn felt against her chest moved her to say, “Someday, but not today. Just for you.”
“Sorry,” Medevac sniffled, trying to bring her emotions under control. “It’s just that I owe you so much. I’m not a real doctor, just a paramedic with a couple of fancy tricks.”
“Never say that,” Celestia admonished, with a gentle smile. “You, my dear, are my personal physician on Earth. Fancy tricks or not.”
“I… I am?” Medevac asked, gaping. “I mean, I jumped into the role because there—”
“Hush,” Celestia softly commanded, laying a wingtip over Medevac’s mouth for a moment. “Do I need to make it a royal command?”
“Yes! I mean, No!” babbled the pony, mind and mouth racing. “I mean, if you say so, Ma’am.”
“I do say so,” Celestia replied, serenely smiling down on the pegasus. “Now, ‘Personal Physician’. Am I in sufficient health for this interview? Give me your honest assessment.”
“Okay,” Medevac said, taking a deep breath. “Physically, you are more than healthy enough to be in an interview. It’s your mental state I’m worried about.”
“Oh?” Celestia asked, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea to cover a moment of introspection.
“Of all the American networks you could have chosen to speak to first,” Medevac began, taking a moment to fluff her wings, “what made you choose ‘Fox News’?”
“I liked the name,” Celestia replied, after a moment’s thought. “A good friend of mine back in Equestria is an animal caretaker, and Fox had the only animal name. In fact, it had the only name that I could relate to in any way out of the main American news groups.”
“What?” Medevac asked curiously, tilting her head to one side, neatly trimmed mane barely stirring with the motion.
“I don’t know what the ‘Columbia’ is in CBS. The ‘American’ in ABC is obviously there for the country that company is based in,” Celestia explained, taking a moment to reheat her tea with a finely tuned burst of magic. “As is the ‘National’ in NBC. I still don’t really understand why CNN has ‘Cable’ in their name when it’s a broadcasting service or why a company that develops those wonderful computers of yours has a news service is something I will never understand.”
“Wait,” Medevac replied, confusion wrinkling her muzzle. “Who is that last one?”
“MSNBC,” Celestia responded, sipping at her now piping hot tea. “The first two letters stand for ‘Microsoft’ which I know has something to do with computers, but that’s all.”
“I see your point,” Medevac allowed. “I still wish you had chosen someone else. The BBC maybe, or even our own CBC here in Canada.”
“Medevac,” Celestia said, drawing a comforting wing over the pegasus, “the whole point of this interview is to make Luna and I less of an unknown quantity to your world as a way to prevent incidents like the other night. So, it had to be an American news service, and not a Canadian one. Is there some sort of problem with Fox?”
“They aren’t known for having the most… unbiased reporting,” Medevac answered, trying not to snuggle herself into the warm softness of the feathers around her. “They tend to show things from the conservative point of view.”
“My dear,” Celestia replied, pulling her physician in a little closer to her. “All reporters, and all ponies for that matter, have their own biases. All of them show it to one degree or another.”
“But—” Medevac tried to argue, the warmth around her fuzzing away her original objections.
“Shh,” Celestia gently interrupted, completely enfolding Medevac against her. “It will be alright. I’ve had more hostile interviews than you have feathers. Trust me, Medevac.”
Warmth and softness penetrated the pegasus’ body from all sides, wrapping her in a cocoon of peace and contentment. Held in place as she was, all Medevac could think of to do was to bury her face in Celestia’s soft fur and inhale her slight vanilla scent. The pegasus simply stood like that for several moments, completely calm and at peace. Until a thought jerked her out of that contented state.
“Hey!” the paramedic forcefully declared, “You’re doing that deliberately!”
“I’ve been ruling Equestria longer than your nation has existed, and in that time I’ve become a master of ‘soft’ diplomacy,” Celestia replied, still smiling serenely as she slowly released Medevac. “I can handle a simple press interview.”
“Sure, as long as the reporter lets you hug him,” Medevac shot back, her tone acerbic.
“That’s the spirit,” Celestia replied brightly, but then sobered. “But, thank you. I truly wasn’t aware of how close things had been, and I’m very, very grateful for your care these past few weeks. Designating you ‘Royal Physician’ is the least that I can do for you.”
“Pfft,” blew the pegasus, rolling her eyes. “All I did was what I would do for anyone. I don’t need any titles or awards for doing that... This is award enough for me.” Medevac briefly turned to present her marked flank with its Rod of Asclepius.
“Even though the position generally comes with a patent of nobility?” Celestia asked, taking great pleasure in watching Medevac’s jaw drop.
“I... who? What?” Medevac babbled before settling on, “Me? A noble?”
“How do you like the sound of, ‘Medevac, Baroness Brightly’?” Celestia asked, trying not to laugh at the size Medevac’s eyes were growing to. “I’ll have to ask Luna about what your proper rank should be, just to be sure.”
Three hours later, a little used squash court inside Brightly’s community recreation center had finished being converted into an interview set. The large cube shaped room was perfect for an interview, and even allowed the hanging of equipment from the viewing balcony as well as being almost a custom-made position for the news crew to work.
What it was not however, was acoustically suitable. Surfaces meant to cause the forceful rebound of a ball, also caused sounds to bounce and echo in a manner that was completely unsuitable for broadcast television. A call had gone up for any sort of sound deadening material available. A call, which had been answered with the typical small town ingenuity of the Brightly Quilting Club.
“Well, I’ve certainly done interviews in less hospitable locations,” commented Phil Bartiromo, looking around the room whose walls and floors were now covered in sound deadening quilts. “I guess it will have to do.”
“I’m glad you approve,” replied Princess Celestia, coming up behind the reporter. “The people of this place never cease to amaze me with their willingness to pitch in with unconventional, but effective, solutions to problems.”
“Princess Celestia,” said the reporter, turning and moving awkwardly as he tried to decide whether to offer his hand or to bow to the visiting diarch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And a pleasure to meet you as well,” Celestia replied, smiling graciously and deliberately not appearing to notice the lean man’s awkward body motions. “Shall we go in and make ourselves ready?”
“By all means, Your Highness,” the reporter replied, gesturing toward the raised platform with a large “Fox News” background behind it.
“Why thank you,” Celestia answered, ducking her head to keep her horn from catching on the top of the doorframe.
Together, pony princess and intrepid interviewer sat themselves down and were immediately swarmed by a group of gaffers, grips and production assistants. As Bartiromo was being given a few quick touch-ups of makeup for the camera, Celestia found herself being subject to some light brushing of her mane and tail by an assistant while another clipped a mike to her peytral.
“I love your mane,” the brushing assistant said softly. “How do you make it flow like this?”
“Magic, my dear,” Celestia replied, taking a quick look at the olive-skinned woman and her long, thick braid of midnight black hair. “And your mane is quite lovely as well.”
“Thank you,” the woman responded, cheeks warming as she tucked a final lock of Celestia’s pastel hair behind the ear of the princess.
“We go live in five minutes, people!” shouted a man in the viewing balcony, who was wearing a headset. “Five minutes!”
“I’m not sure how I should address you,” Bartiromo said, as the cloud of assistants around the two of them evaporated like mist exposed to a summer sun. “I mean, you are the first alien princess Earth has ever known. Should I call you, ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Radiance’ or something else? Which would you prefer?”
“Just ‘Princess Celestia’ will do,” Celestia said in answer, looking around her. “I’m somewhat new to all of this myself. Can you tell me how this sort of thing is done?”
“Certainly, Princess Celestia,” the reporter answered, making immediate use of Celestia’s stated preference to fix it in his mind. “We’ll get a countdown before the interview will start, at which point we will begin our feed to the network. I’ll start off with a short recap of recent events and then introduce you. After that I’ll ask some questions and get your comments on things.”
“So far, it sounds very much like a press interview back home,” Celestia commented. “Only without all the extra technology that you people use.”
“Are there any topics or any questions I should avoid?” Bartiromo asked, making a quick note of the time. “We are here by your request, after all. And we are thankful for the opportunity.”
“I want to relieve some of the pressure the Canadian government is receiving for keeping us isolated from the rest of your world, while the sovereignty question is decided. Having an interview done with an American network seemed like a good way to dispel some of the unknowns about my sister and I,” Celestia explained, before adding. “As for topics, feel free to ask anything you like.”
Celestia schooled her face to remain in “patient and loving monarch” mode, even as she watched the calculations going on behind the eyes of the reporter. The alicorn may not have understood the technologies he used, but it seemed that some things were indeed universal. Such as not giving a member of the press a target to focus on by telling them what you wanted not to talk about.
“I did want to touch on the political situation,” the reporter replied, “but only briefly. I know it’s a highly complex situation and we could easily spend an entire half hour talking about it.”
“I’m given to understand your network is quite heavily involved in political reporting,” Celestia commented. “And while I am sure that such a discussion would be very enlightening for all of us, I do agree that we should avoid going too deeply into any particular subject during this interview.”
“Would you be willing to do a follow-up interview in the future?” Bartiromo asked, eyes aglow with the possibility of scoring a second interview with the princess. “Something more in-depth?”
“Let’s see how this one goes first,” Celestia replied smoothly. “You can talk to our press agents in a day or two.”
“Brightly Media?” the man asked, getting a nod from Celestia in confirmation. “Thank you, Princess. We’ll be sure to do that.”
“What’s that?” Celestia asked, noticing the man tucking something in by his ear.
“This? It’s a wireless earphone,” explained Bartiromo. “My producer back in Seattle can use it to remind me if I’ve forgotten anything, or to let me know if we are having problems, or any number of things. And all without being loud enough to disturb our chat.”
“Those sound like very useful devices,” Celestia mused. “You wouldn’t be willing to let my sister and I have one or two, would you?”
“Why certainly,” Bartiromo said, noticing assistants beginning to clear the set in preparation for the broadcast. “Say, in exchange for a firm promise for that follow-up interview?”
“Ha!” Celestia laughed, smiling. “This must be this ‘capitalism’ thing I’ve read that you Americans practice so thoroughly. Always on the lookout for an opportunity to capitalize on.”
“It’s one of the things that’s made America great,” the reporter replied, putting on his best patriotic smile. “Well, do we have a deal, Princess?”
“Not quite,” Celestia chuckled, giving the reporter an arch look. “I’m not about to sell Equestria for a handful of beads and trade goods.”
“What can I offer to sweeten the deal?” Bartiromo asked, realizing time was ticking down for him to cement a second interview. This interview was sure to make him a rising star at the network, a second one would make him a household name and ensure his journalistic legacy for generations.
“You can do a favor for my sister and I,” Celestia replied.
“A favor? Of course,” Bartiromo agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
“There’s a group of lost American hunters that blundered into the woods near town the other night,” Celestia revealed, and the reporter realized that the pony in front of him had been moving toward this all along. “The Canadian government has agreed to release them into your custody. If you would do this for us, I can almost guarantee you that second interview.”
Bartiromo was a skilled and experienced interviewer. His face showed only the emotions he wanted it to show, and only when he wanted him to show them. Celestia had fifty times his experience and so when Bartiromo’s left eye crinkled a few millimeters, she knew he realized exactly what was going to happen to him when he got home after doing a “favor” for an alien princess.
“Nothing would please me more,” the reporter replied. “So, we can pencil you in for another interview with Fox, in about two weeks?”
“So long as you are the one doing the interviewing,” Celestia said, smiling. “I have a feeling that you and I will develop quite the personal relationship during the next several minutes.”
With that, the reporter knew Celestia had sealed his fate. There was no way Homeland Security, the NSA, FBI, or any of the host of other three letter organizations were going to let him even think about leaving the States until they were sure his loyalties weren’t to an alien. Particularly an alien who may or may not have super magic nuclear powers, and whom he had a “personal relationship” with and had done favors for in exchange for an interview.
“Um, yes,” Bartiromo replied, shuffling papers and deliberately wasting time until with some relief he heard the producer give everyone a thirty second warning.
The last few staffers cleared the impromptu interview set, while spectators and crew alike held their breaths as the last few seconds were counted down. A red light lit on one of the two cameras, and Bartiromo turned to face it before speaking.
“Hello America. Six weeks ago history was made when the question, ‘Are we alone?’ was answered with a most definitive ‘No.’ Tonight I’m here to speak with our strange visitor from an alien world. Princess Celestia of Equestria, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you,” Bartiromo summarized, turning to face Celestia and the second camera lit up to focus on the white alicorn.
“It’s a distinct pleasure to be here,” Celestia replied, smiling and nodding as her ethereal mane flowed with pastel colour.
“For the past six weeks, the Canadian government has kept you, and your sister, Princess Luna, almost totally isolated while the question of sovereignty over the portal to your world was being debated,” Bartiromo said, before pointedly asking, “What have you been doing during that time, and what are your thoughts on Prime Minister Trudeau’s unilateral decision to essentially keep you a prisoner on Canadian soil?”
“My sister and I have actually been enjoying the respite from our duties back home,” Celestia replied, her sensitive ears picking up a dissonant buzzing coming from Bartiromo’s earpiece. “We certainly haven’t been kept as prisoners here. Although, my personal physician did once threaten me with a bridle if I didn’t eat all my soup like a good filly should.”
The buzzing in Bartiromo’s earpiece grew louder and the reporter's face flashed with annoyance for a moment.
“My apologies, Princess Celestia,” the man said, his face taking on a rueful look. “We seem to be having some technical difficulties with your microphone. Would you mind swapping with me while we bring in a backup?”
“Not at all,” Celestia replied, and a moment later Bartiromo had deftly removed Celestia’s mike and replaced it with his own.
“Let’s try another question, “ the reporter continued, sitting back into his chair. “From all accounts your arrival triggered a mass transformation of everyone in the town around us into versions of your citizens. Some have begun to wonder if that’s your plan to conquer our world. By turning us all into—”
“Cute, cuddly ponies, with amazing abilities that reflect your greatest hopes and dreams?” Celestia asked rhetorically, cutting the reporter off in mid-flow. “Equestria is a land of Harmony, and Harmony forbids using magic on another without—”
“Sorry, Princess Celestia,” Bartiromo interrupted, holding up a hand as his earpiece buzzed even louder than before. “We’re still having problems from your mic, it seems.”
“Really?” Celestia asked, tilting her head and allowing one ear to flop sideways. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“The production office in Seattle says they are hearing nothing but gibberish when you speak,” Bartiromo stated, before hesitantly continuing. “Please don’t take this as a slight, but you are a magical pony princess from another dimension. Could your magic be interfering with our technology?”
“Other than deliberate interference, our magic and your technical devices have worked side by side up until now,” Celestia answered, chewing her lip in thought. “There is a first time for everything though, so it may be possible.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my apologies,” Bartiromo began, addressing the camera, and through it a live audience in the millions. “We seem to be encountering some technical difficulties so we may have to—”
“Wait, I have an idea,” Celestia interrupted suddenly with a raised voice, lifting her head to scan the watching crowd. “Drat, I don’t see the Harbs anywhere. Does anyone else here speak anything other than English?”
“I-I do,” came a voice from the crowd of staffers and assistants.
“Who’s that?” Bartiromo said, and in response the black haired, olive skinned woman who had brushed out Celestia’s mane and tail stepped forward.
“Velasquez, sir,” the woman replied, nervously.
“Come here, dear,” Celestia gently commanded. “Don’t be nervous. What languages do you speak?”
“Spanish, and a little Navajo my grandmother taught me,” the woman replied, braid swaying as she approached.
“Perfect,” Celestia declared, smiling to reassure the woman. “I’d like you to come here, and say some into my microphone, okay?”
“All right,” Velasquez said, coming over and bending awkwardly to place her mouth beside the device attached to Celestia’s peytral.
“Just sit here beside me,” Celestia replied, scooting herself over on the futon she was on. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
“Okay,” the woman replied, gingerly sitting down and leaning close. “Um, what should I say?”
“Why don’t you just say a greeting to the Princess?” Bartiromo offered, having seen in the past how ordinarily verbose individuals could find themselves unable to think when a camera was turned on them.
“Okay,” Velasquez said, turning to Celestia and leaning close to say, “Hello, my name is Jessica Velasquez. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Celestia.”
“Good grief, woman!” Bartiromo exploded, in clear frustration. “It was supposed to be in Spanish, or Navajo.”
“But… I did say it in Spanish,” replied the woman, instinctively shrinking back against Celestia. “I did.”
“I’m sure you did,” Celestia replied, putting a protective wing around Velasquez and shooting a short but piercing glare at the reporter. “But I heard English. Did everyone else hear the same?”
From all around the room there was a chorus of agreement and nods. The only discordant note came from the earbud worn by Phil Bartiromo, who put his hand against his ear to listen.
“Can we get Seattle up on a speaker?” he called out to the producer, who was watching from his nest in the observation gallery. A few swift motions later and the producer gave Bartiromo a thumbs up, who asked, “Seattle, can you say that again so that everyone can hear you?”
“Yeah, this is Rob in the Q13 Fox control room in Seattle,” came a clear man’s voice. “We definitely heard Spanish on our end.”
“Princess, you don’t seem surprised by this,” Bartiromo said, noticing Celestia’s calm demeanor. “Care to enlighten us?”
“In a moment, I want to be sure first,” Celestia commented, turning her head to face Velasquez, who still sat within the circle of Celestia’s left wing. “Go ahead, say something else.”
“Hello, my name is Jessica Velasquez,” Jessica said, in a more confident voice this time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you... Queen Celestia.”
“Queen?” asked Celestia, smiling at the woman. “I’m just a princess. And I heard English again, even though I’m quite sure you spoke in another language.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Velasquez replied, quickly adding. “I don’t know the Navajo word for ‘princess’ so I used the one for ‘queen’. I’m sure there’s one for ‘princess’, but Gran never taught me it.”
“I had to do some checking around the studio,” came the voice of the Seattle producer, “but I can confirm that was Navajo being spoken. Or at least that’s what we heard.”
“But we all heard English here,” Bartiromo added. “I’m thinking that you have an explanation for this phenomenon, Princess Celestia.”
“Indeed I do,” the princess replied, then paused to stop Jessica from getting up and leaving with a gentle touch of her wingtip on the woman's shoulder. “Please wait a moment, Miss Velasquez. There may be something very important you can do for me.”
Torn between her need to get out of the all-seeing eye of the camera, and her desire to avoid offending what amounted to a foreign dignitary, Velasquez looked to her boss, spreading her hands in mute appeal.
“As long as we get her back in one piece, Miss Velasquez is at your command,” Bartiromo said, with a smile as he made a “sit down” motion toward the production assistant.
“Excellent. First, though, the explanation as to what’s happening,” Celestia began, allowing her wing to rest in place on the futon around the again sitting Velasquez. “The portal between our worlds was created through a fluke accident that involved a layering of different spells. Among which was a translation spell.”
“Translation spell?” Bartiromo repeated, questioningly. “You mean magic?”
“That’s right,” Celestia said, looking like a teacher who has had a student say something clever.
“I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with the whole concept of magic,” Bartiromo supplied, frowning slightly. “But are you saying it's the portal reaching out and doing this through magic?”
“When the portal was opened up to your world in general, the buildup of over a century of leakage into the mine tunnels under Brightly burst free, saturating the entire area in Equestrian magic,” Celestia explained, keeping her face serene. “That saturation includes not just raw magical power, but the underlying matrix of the spells that were part of the portal itself. Among them, the translation spell.”
“Folks, we’re still hearing nothing but gibberish on our end,” said Rob in Seattle. “Can someone please tell us what’s going on?”
“Here’s where you come in, Jessica,” Celestia stated, turning so that she was almost muzzle to nose with the woman.
Magenta eyes locked with chocolate brown, and Celestia felt deep satisfaction when she saw a spark flare in those caramel depths. She’d had a feeling about this woman from the moment Celestia had felt Jessica’s hands on her mane. Were they in Equestria, Jessica would right now be getting an invitation to one of Celestia’s schools. But alas, they were not, so Celestia decided to improvise.
“I need a Voice,” Celestia began, capitalizing the noun. “Someone to speak my words in situations just like this one. I will speak in Equestrian, and you will repeat my words in English, exactly as you hear them from me. Can you do this for me?”
“Y-yes, Princess Celestia,” Velasquez answered, straightening up a bit. “As long as it’s okay with my bosses.”
“You’re to consider yourself on paid leave from the network for as long as the princess needs you,” Bartiromo interjected, leaping at the chance to get a staffer embedded into the news story of the millenium. “I’ll handle any paperwork and family arrangements you need taken care of, personally.”
“Thank you,” Jessica said, turning her head to fall back into the warm magenta pools in front of her. “I guess I’m all yours.”
“We need to do this properly,” Celestia replied, clearing her throat and allowing magic to fill her voice. “Jessica Velasquez, We call upon you to be Our Voice. To speak with Our words and in Our name. To put yourself aside for a time, and become an extension of the Diarchy of Equestria, that Our words may be passed to those who have need to hear them. Will you do this thing for Us?”
“I will,” Velasquez replied in a firm voice, feeling an unknown warmth fill her.
“Then by the power invested in me as Princess Celestia, Sol Invictus, I declare you to be my Royal Voice,” Celestia stated, and smiling she summoned a small ball of magic laced with something she had learned from Discord, long ago. “Stretch out your hand, and receive your badge of office.”
Automatically Velasquez reached into the ball and found her fingers closing around something hard. She pulled out her hand and opened it to reveal a four inch long brooch of shining silver. A howling coyote with turquoise eyes looked back at her, and for a second she could have sworn the figure winked at her.
“Now my Voice, repeat my words for those in Seattle and abroad,” Celestia began, drawing Jessica’s attention back to her new boss. “To recap for everyone not in Brightly, the portal to Equestria was created through an accident that involved…”
Princess Luna sipped at her mochaccino, pausing to lick a bit of cream off her upper lip. She lay comfortably on a futon of her own in her room, and as she continued to watch the broadcast she could not stop a chuckle that escaped her lips, along with, “Oh, dear sister. It seems you’ve found yet another pony to draw into your herd.”
“Beg pardon, Ma’am?” asked Captain Rios, dressed in borrowed civilian clothes and sipping at his own black but heavily sweetened coffee.
“A lesson for you about my sister, Captain Rios,” Luna replied, turning toward the captured soldier. “She is always on the watch for ponies around whom destiny turns.”
“What’s that supp… Wait, I never said I was a captain,” Rios protested, a stormcloud frown forming on his features.
“Your quarters over the past two nights were ‘bugged’, I believe the term is,” Luna supplied. “And your horse doctor is rather free with his tongue.”
“I guess I should be happy you didn’t read my mind or something,” Rios grumbled. “So what now? Did you ask me here just to tell me that?”
“No, I had you brought here to tell you that you and your team will be going home with the news crew,” Luna answered. “And to make you an offer.”
“Your Highness, I will never betray my country. No matter what,” Rios replied, drawing himself up angrily.
“And I would never ask you to,” Luna replied calmly. “But there are things that threaten all who would walk in Harmony. Things that I think you would be willing to fight at my side against.”
“What are you talking about?” Rios asked, now thoroughly confused. “And what does this have to do with your sister?”
“Think, good Captain,” Luna said, taking care to appear calm and nonthreatening. “I’m sure you were told of the events in Brightly after the portal was opened to your world. What happened to the windigo when it separated from Dora Godwinson?”
“It ran away,” Rios replied, after a moment’s thought. “Everyone assumed it faded into nothing once it got outside the Brightly Bubble.”
“It had fed long and deeply upon my sister,” Luna stated, her voice growing cold. “Even now she feels it’s talons caressing her soul. It lives, Captain. Oh yes, the beast lives, and it hungers, and my sister knows that it hungers for her.”
“You want me to help you fight it,” Rios replied. “What about the Power Ponies?”
“Those ponies are both mighty and intrepid,” Luna answered, warmth returning to her voice, “but they are children, first and foremost. My sister and I will not risk them if at all possible, which is why she seeks to bind Medevac and now this Velasquez woman to her side.”
“Excuse me?” Rios asked, his tone showing that he wasn’t sure he liked that idea.
“Be at peace, Captain,” Luna said, her voice soothing. “Were this Equestria, those ponies would even now find themselves being granted titles, offers of mentor-ship, invitations to special schooling or access to vast repositories of knowledge.”
“Sounds like bribery to me,” Rios commented, picking his coffee back up and taking a deep pull of sweet caffeine.
“Celestia decided long ago that the best way to have loyal, powerful allies was to find ponies with potential, and then to nurture that spark of possibility inside them into a roaring flame,” Luna commented, as she aped Rios by taking a sip off her own drink. “She has always had a sense of which ponies would change the world, instead of being changed by it. Velasquez is obviously one such pony, or Celestia would simply have asked the reporter to repeat her words..”
“And what do you intend to offer me?” Rios replied, with a derisive snort.
“You are a soldier, and a man of integrity,” Luna stated, to which the captain lifted his coffee in acknowledgement. “You would view anything I offer as a quid pro quo, and so I will offer you one where the terms are clear. Here, take this.”
Luna tossed a small object to the soldier, who automatically caught it. Rios opened his hand to find a leather thong knotted around the hollow shaft of a deep blue feather. To any other eye it would look like a simple leather necklace with a feather for a pendant. Rios however knew better however, and the look he gave Princess Luna spoke volumes.
“Yes, Captain Rios, it is one of mine,” Luna said, answering the unspoken question. “And, it is enchanted by my own horn.”
“Why?” Rios asked simply, setting his coffee aside.
“Let me answer that with a question,” Luna replied. “Did you dream last night?”
“What?” Rios, asked puzzled, before taking a minute to think and reply, “No, as a matter of fact I didn’t. Or when I slept before that.”
“In Equestria, one of my responsibilities is to guard the dreams of my ponies,” Luna informed the captain. “I ward off nightmares and help them deal with what they see in the realms of sleep.”
“You WERE in my mind!” Rios growled hotly, and Luna could see that it took the soldier an effort of will not to leap at her to avenge the perceived wrong.
“I was not,” Luna declared, looking the angry man directly in the eye. “I will not enter the mind of someone who has neither given me permission nor is a subject of mine. What I could do though, was to give you and yours a restful, dreamless sleep.”
“Oh, sorry,” Rios replied, relaxing slightly before firing back with, “What made you think we weren't going to dream about riding around on winged unicorns?”
“The fact that you are experienced soldiers who have seen combat. Plus, you didn’t bring any tack with you,” Luna smoothly tossed back with a mild smirk. “Something for an Arabian yearling is about my size, by the way.”
Rios couldn’t help but snort at that, “Okay, fair enough and thank you. You haven’t said what you expect back from me though.”
“I want you to tell your government that my sister and I have no wish to be an enemy of America,” Luna said, getting up from her futon. “Neither do we wish to be an ally, as yet.”
“Then what do you want?” Rios asked, realizing for the first time the true size of the alicorn. “And why do I get the feeling this feather of yours is meant for me?”
“What we want is to be friends,” Luna answered, stepping close enough to Rios that he could touch her, if he wished. “The feather is meant as a peace offering to both you and your government. Examining it should reveal information about what I am, and what magic is.”
“Dios,” Rios breathed, realizing that Luna had just up and given him one of the key pieces of information he had been sent to gather. “And what are you giving me?”
“Sleep with the feather next to your skin,” Luna said, keeping her voice soft. “Doing so will allow it to be a bridge between us, allowing me to enter your dreams and speak with you.”
“Why? And what if I don’t want to?” Rios asked, eyes flicking between the feather and the mare it had come from.
“If you do not wish to hear from me again, simply never sleep with it next to you,” Luna assured the man. “Without some sort of thaumic link, my magic cannot reach beyond this town.”
“You still haven’t said why,” Rios replied, arching an inquiring eyebrow toward the princess.
“I intend to go after the windigo before it comes back to finish the job it started,” Luna said, and Rios saw the anger in those lunar eyes. “Foxfire and her mate, Iron Heart, are with me as my Midnight Sorceress and my Nighttide Stallion. Captain Rios, I am asking you to become my Soldier of the Night.”
yáʼátʼééh
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Luna, you do realize that there's no way on heaven or earth that he's going to be keeping that? I'd honestly be disappointed with him if he even entertained the idea. No ranger has any business making a private deal with a foreign leader.
I was so excited to see a chapter of this length. And then so frustrated at how soon I reached the end.
10137950
I'm fairly sure Captain Rios will make a full report to his superiors
im glad your feeling better
To paraphrase from Kingdoms of Amalur, "A doctor treats a patient hoping they never have to again".
10137986
It's a process. To quote the comment I gave to the one who holds my reins, "My injury was basically the capstone on a pyramid of hurt I've been building for some time now." It's going to take awhile to tear down that pyramid.
In the future I have to remember that just because I am physically capable of a thing, it does not mean I should do the thing.
O boy
As for this chapter, huh, measuring matters differently, and I got a laugh of the 'hunters' and the look the reporters going to have here.
10137950
There are military Attache's that the states have done to places in the 60's and 70's. This looks like that.
This is looking to be interesting. Glad to see you could get it out quickly.
I hope that you heal well; age is an unkind mistress, so I've seen.
If Equestrian magic created a magical translation matrix in Canada, does it translate into English or French? Or both?
10138609
That's a good question. Canada is officially bilingual, but BC is heavily English speaking. French is taught as a mandatory course up through the elementary years. I can order a plate of well done earmuffs, myself. And I know a few of the more interesting curse words and phrases.
10138717
You need to make a few up for later man (blended with Ponish), im sure Luna will earn her silver tongue just looking at the news
10138717
Tabernac!
Simply hearing the term "Fox News" made me cringe. Why insert such a terrible news station into such a sweet story? Yet I think you handled it well there. Hope things will go better with your back, those injuries are definitely not fun at all. Just take care of yourself, especially with COVID-19 out there.
10138743
Heh, I wasn't gonna say it
I am brand new to this series, having archive binged the original last week...and I am *loving* this. Write on!
Celestia doesn't need to bribe anyone. She has a very big good side, and a bad side reserved for those who decide her good side isn't good enough.
Also, she has Luna, who reserves her bad side for those who attempt to bribe her.
The perfect crime...
Yes, yes, YES! ALL MY YES!
Ah, so even Fox News (yeah, it doesn't have a good reputation overseas either) knows it's best to behave when you have the first -and thereby possibly only- shot at interviewing alien royalty. Always nice to see sanity prevail.
10137950
Under normal circumstances, no. But right now Rios presents the only non-civilian link the USA has to the first ever aliens, and their royalty on top of that. Even discounting that this represents a promise of a mutual alliance against a local supernatural threat, I'm pretty sure whatever rules are in place against this sort of thing are going to be binned in very short order to make sure they can direct Rios to exploit this connection for every single drop it has.
'Nuf Said.
10201913
One of my favorites
10142392
Yeah, it also doesn't have a good reputation here in the states. I know even some right-wing peeps who don't like how biased it is, mostly cause they believe the news should be free of such bias.
What's with the "yáʼátʼééh" at the end of Chapter 3? I get that it's from the Navajo language, but I don't understand why you've put it there in the first place.
10608061
In truth, it was by accident. I was playing around with bits of Navajo with my language sherpa and that wound up sneaking past the edits. I decided to leave it in as Coyote obviously meant for it to be there.
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/y%C3%A1%CA%BC%C3%A1t%CA%BC%C3%A9%C3%A9h