An Exercise in Inter-Universal Politics

Twilight was still looking around the cabin.

Of course, she was clinging desperately to the sides of her seat as she did so. No way in hell she was letting go of that. Not in this contraption.

"Nervous there, miss?"

Twilight almost jumped out of her seat. Dear Celestia! How could those humans get used to that voice transmitter? Not just a record player, but a real, real-time transmitter. Without any wires, even.She adjusted how it sat on her face with magic, re-positioning the microphone closer to her face. "J- Just a little."

The human next to her laughed. "You seem tense. Don't worry. You're in good hands."

Twilight nodded, then went back to looking around in a strange mixture of awe and terror at the device around her. The numerous gauges, valves, levers, and little blinking red lights seemed to intentionally emphasize how different this was from a blimp or chariot back home.

The quiet one (Acone had called him "Marshall" most of the time, but that was probably just his title, right?) had explained a bit how it works. Apparently, those giant rotors on top pushed enough air downwards to actually drive the whole contraption upwards. The person next to her was the "pilot" of the device, and, apparently, a rather experienced one. The Marshall had said something about him being a high-ranking official in their "air force," which was apparently an entire branch of their military that used things like this. People also supposedly flew these for fun.

These people were crazy. Absolutely insane.

Flying machines. This race built machines, just to fly. Not something sensible. Not something powered by hot air or helium. No. Something that violently chopped the air around them by spinning four giant blades at insane speeds.

Luckily for her, she was too busy analyzing a dial (specifically, a very small one that monitored proximity to the nearest CCF station, although she didn't know it) to see out the left window, where two drone jets flew by about a hundred feet away. The Air Force was giving them several different escorts, even though the flight would only take an hour and a half.

"Alright, Ms. Sparkle," the pilot said, "We're going to land soon."

"O- Okay!"

Twilight desperately hoped that this guy knew what he was doing.

The pilot pressed a button and leaned back in his chair. Twilight's head almost exploded. He wasn't landing it -- That must have been the self-destruct!

Her fears were invalidated when she saw that the vehicle was descending. Even more strangely, the weird stick that the pilot had been fiddling with was moving on its own. They said they didn't have magic, but she was beginning to think that was a prank.

Two minutes later, Twilight heard the blades on top began to slow down. The door next to her opened on its own, captivating her attention for a few seconds.

She swallowed. Okay. It was over. Now came what she hoped would be the easy part.

Carefully, she removed the belt across her weight, and managed to get out on her feet. It was rather difficult, especially since she had been sitting in a position that was totally unnatural to her for two hours, but she surprisingly didn't fall.

The pilot was already waiting for her outside her door.

"Welcome to Bolling Air Force Base!" He said, enthusiastically. "Hopefully I didn't jostle you around too much. Still gettin' used to this new GB-44H chopper. It's a whole new line, after all."

"GB-44H?" Twilight asked.

"Groben-Zyklus model 44 Helicopter," the pilot responded. "Supposedly the best in the world, but its tracking control is a bit annoying to me."

Twilight nodded, resolving to go to a library to work out what the hay "Groben-Zyklus" meant as soon as possible.

"Ah," the man said, pointing towards the other end of the helicopter, "There's your ride."

Twilight looked to see a large black tube speeding towards her. After that crazy flying machine, this didn't shock her much.

"Uh, one other thing, Mrs. Sparkle," the pilot said, his time sounding a bit sheepish. Twilight turned to her.

"Yes?"

"Well, uh," he muttered, pulling a pad of paper out of his pocket, "My daughter has been, well, freaking out about you ever since you got here. If I could get your, uh, signature, I think she'd appreciate it."

"Oh." Twilight said, a bit surprised. She hadn't ever actually given out an autograph before. "Yes. Of course."

Twilight plucked a pen out of his pocket with magic, levitated the pad of paper in front of her, and signed "Twilight Sparkle" with a large flourish. The man next to her went pale.

"You- You just-"

Twilight closed the pad and turned it sideways at the man. He weakly grasped it. "Did I do something wrong?"

"That's- M-" The man stuttered. He was cut off by two men in suits, walking very quickly towards Twilight and the man.

"Ambassador Twilight. I am agent James B Harding, United States Secret Service," one said, his words short and staccato. "You may call me what you wish, but I prefer 'J', 'Harding,' or simply 'Agent,' and am naturally trained to respond the quickest to those terms.Come with me, please."

He placed a hand on Twilight's shoulder (leaning over to do so) and slowly turned him to the car. Meanwhile, the other agent walked up to the pilot.

"Senior Master Sergeant Ishtun."

"Y- Yes?"

"You do have top secret clearance for your work on the A-ten-thousand-SW, correct?"

"Y- Yes."

"We'll send somebody to debrief you on the witnessing of magical acts by the ambassador you have escorted." The agent said, his facial expression blank behind sunglasses. The agency was really going all-out action movie to try and impress their visitor. "Tell nobody."

"Understood," the pilot replied, trying to set his jaw in place. The agent in front of him nodded.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

With that, he walked back to the limo and got in. They joined the rest of the convoy just outside the base and began making their way to Capitol Hill.

* * *

Twilight was kind of glad the windows were so tinted.

She would have loved to look out them in normal conditions. There was a whole lot of information out there, ready to be taken in. But she had other matters to attend to right now, and sight-seeing would just be a distraction.

She stared at the papers in front of her. The portfolio had her name on the front, although it was lacking the traditional Equestrian wax seal. Instead, they were loose in a folder, sealed only by some kind of paperclip. She removed it and set to work.

The first was a small note. It outlined the purpose of the documents ("a walk-through of the hearing process,") thanked her for coming to the United States, and stated that the government hoped that all her accommodations were adequate. It was unsigned and left no indication who it had come from, save "The State Department."

Twilight put the note to her side, already beginning to feel at home. She had read many dockets like this while working on the project that got her here. Even though this one was in a strange typeface and full of alien information, something about it felt right.

Twilight set to reading the list of documents. So, Congress made all the laws, which were then signed by the President. They also had the exclusive power to declare war or other military aide. So these were the people she would have to impress.

Twilight leaned slightly into the chair and took a drink from the bottle of water she had been given, trying to settle her breathing. It's not like she had the fate of Equestria in her hooves, or anything.

Well, actually, she didn't. Congress had it in their hands.

If Twilight wasn't mostly oblivious to how Congress actually worked, she probably would have given up right than and there.

* * *

"So, what's your analysis?"

"Look, Jim," the interviewee said, adjusting how he was sitting on the couch, "She's a talking unicorn. I can't even began to wrap my head around that. She could want pretty much anything and it would make sense."

"But, I mean, you're the expert here. You have to have some idea, right?"

"No. Not a freaking clue. She's cooperating, though, and apparently is very courteous. That could be a lie but I'm inclined to actually trust that press release."

"Hold on a minute, Mr. Cage - We have some reports that there's a convoy of limousines heading towards the capital building. Do you think it could be this diplomat?"

The Interviewee paused and arched an eyebrow. "No, I bet it's the freaking Kool-Aide man. Of course it's her."

"Do you have any comments on this matter?"

"Well, it makes sense. They'd want to talk to her."

The interviewer tilted his head slightly to the side, inhaling slightly.

"If she wants to talk to them might be a different story."