Nation Shall Speak Peace Unto Nation

by Dan The Man

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Princess Luna, Original Character, Octavia, Comedy, Tragedy, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Human
Length: 40898

In the year 2012, Equestria is discovered. The United Nations reacts swiftly.

It is the year 2012. When military pilots discover a previously
uncharted Bermuda triangle-like area in southern Oceania, a cordon around
the area is established.
Soon it is noticed, that inside the cordon, there is a large, isolated and
utterly undiscovered land mass. And it is inhabited, too.
The UN, upon realising that the inhibitants' civilisation seems to be
highly advanced and organised, decides to send a diplomatic mission to
make a proper first contact, and to achieve a peaceful cooperation with
the rest of the world. Had they only prepared both sides properly, they
may have not have had the risk of a full scale war...

This Fanfic will be posted in form of two... no, four scenes per week.
It is, as it heavily relies on dialogue, kept in form of a piece of theatre, (with music cues and all). Please don't judge too harshly, it is my very first piece of Fanfiction, as well as a Pilot (as I will most probably post sequels to this to flesh out side characters). Please leave lots of feedback in your comments on what I can possibly improve. You'd all be really helpful.

Enjoy.

Published 2011-12-25 21:53:14 UTC
Last updated 2012-01-18 21:09:44 UTC

2. Late To The Party

2. Scene – The Stone Platform

“Late To The Party, In Someone Else’s Dream”

(The Chinook slowly descends onto an abandoned paved square just outside of Ponyville. Miriam Levin jumps out, and holding a Glock at her side, keeping in mind not to look threatening. She is soon followed by the other agents, who strategically position themselves around the Chinook, observing the area closely. As one RAAF airman holds open the hefty door, Mrs. Matuszek exits as she puts on her UN- vest, followed by Finch who quickly bestows his suitcase with important documents to save them from the helicopter’s ghastly winds. Laukkinen exits next, carrying the camera and the tripod over his shoulders, going out of his way to not to fall out of the hatch. He is then followed by Hartfield, shouting to FO Kinsman, who leans out of the hatch as the helicopter slowly but loudly hovers inches above the ground)

◦ Hartfield: Wait in the air! Ten minutes minimum! Should we have any complications , you should be able to pick us up ASAP! Okay?!
◦ Kinsman: Alright, Mr. Hartfield! Ten minutes it’ll be! *shuts hatch*
◦ Laukkinen: *quickly setting up the tripod and following the helicopter with his camera* Pahuksen… It’s like Afghanistan, not?!
◦ Finch: *gazes at the tree-rich horizon* It’s incomparable! Clearly incomparable!

(On the other side of a nearby hill, two ponies are on their way to the town centre)

◦ Applejack: …know’ what I’m sayin’? The whole apple stuck juhst, dissapeyerd!
◦ Twilight: Really? How could that have happened?
◦ Applejack: ‘ere’s the funneh part. That pour poneh mixed uhp the barns. *sniggers* He weant into the abandon’d old barn. Of cowrse he didn’t fahnd no apples dere.
◦ Twilight: *laughs* Oh dear, that must have been a shock for him.
◦ Applejack: Ya bet! Ah was feelin’ really bad for him after on.

(Octavia the Cellist suddenly appears, running past them. Her normally calm countenance is overly nervous and she really seems to be in a hurry)

◦ Octavia: *breathing heavily* Hi!
◦ Twilight: *surprised* Oh hi… *quizzical* Wasn’t that… Octavia?
◦ Applejack: The ork’stra pony? Yeah. *to Octavia* Hey, Octavia, where ya runnin’ to?
◦ Octavia: *without turning around* Can’t talk! It’s important!
◦ Twilight: *to Applejack* What would be so important today in Everfree Forest?

(Chinook suddenly rises majestically over the treetops as waves of ferocious wind blind three utterly perplexed observers. Slowly, it lifts off to it’s observation of the area, leaving the dumbfounded ponies to contemplate it. Octavia slowly goes into motion again as she tries to leave Twilight and Applejack behind)

◦ Applejack: *nearly whispering* Holeh poneh! Did ya see that? Was it a draggin?
◦ Twilight: *squeezing eyes in thought* No. That didn’t look like one. It seemed so strangely mechanical, don’t you think?
◦ Applejack: Yeah, but how did liaft off widout wings? Ah didn’t see no wings…
◦ Twilight: Was that thing maybe the reason why Octavia was acting so strange? *looks back to the spot where Octavia was standing before* Hey, where has she gone to all of a sudden?
◦ Applejack: P’raps she ran into the fowrs’t.
◦ Twilight: *galloping in front* Quick, maybe something happened. She may have had something to do with that thing. We have to see if she needs help.
◦ Applejack: Sure thing, partner! Hyah! *catches up with Twilight*

(Octavia warily creeps through the forest that separates the two sites. She seems very scared and nervous. Pushing her head forward, she slowly proceeds towards the forest edge, ready to jump the side should she see anyone (or anyone see her). She is aware of being late, and she is appropriately insecure whether to keep the slow pace or to sprint the last few metres. Meanwhile, on said forest edge, the group packs their suitcases together, ready to be received)

◦ Finch: *anxious* So… Mr. Hartfield… you said you were in the horse business?
◦ Hartfield: Uh, yes. That is, my dad still was. We had a ranch in Wisconsin. Sold her for a mere two hundred grand in ‘82…
◦ Finch: Really? Well that’s dandy, isn’t it?
◦ Hartfield: What do you mean?
◦ Finch: My father was with the Blues And Royals. A Quarter Master. As good as the Queen’s Own Stable lad, really. He retired after the Falklands Kerfuffle.
◦ Hartfield: *smiles* Nice.
◦ Finch: You know what I mean? *ironic* Horse Whisperer to Horse Whisperer…
◦ Hartfield: Huh *grins*. Nice. So we both have a legacy to follow here, right?
*checks the area around him, growing impatient*
Now where is everyone? I thought the horse had understood our deal.
◦ Finch: Or maybe not? Maybe it was just a miscomprehension on the pilot’s side. It was a horse, after all.
◦ Hartfield: That’s simply impossible. You saw the picture of the drawing in the sand, didn’t you?

(Octavia halts. She sees the group of mysterious creatures. They looked just like the one she had seen earlier in that strange contraption of his. But then she listens, and understands! She can understand what they say. If that would make things any easier. She’s nervously proceeding again)

◦ Matuszek: *to Agent Levin* Oh by the way. I don’t think I had the chance to introduce myself yet.
◦ Levin: Yes , of course. Mrs. Matuszek, of the German Institute in DC, am I correct? *shakes hands* I am Special Agent Miriam Levin of the Bureau of Diplomatic Security. I am in charge of your safety and wellbeing.
◦ Matuszek: Will you be able to manage? I mean, this is after all Terra Incognita.
◦ Levin: *slightly buffed* I’m sorry? *continues before Matuszek can answer* Ah well, I believe that I can. I tend to view such situations in form of a map. And according to my map *points at her pouch*, it is fairly familiar environment. *Looks around* it’s the same trees and hills as in, say, Yugoslavia (I was on a few tasks there).
◦ Matuszek: What do you think of the natives?
◦ Levin: Well, I ‘was’ assured a peaceful situation by guys who weren’t even in my department… and I just go along with it for now.
◦ Matuszek: Well *acknowledges Finch, who listens*, we’re in safe hands then.
◦ Finch: Why shouldn’t we be?

(Octavia slightly brushes a nearby branch aside, mere metres away from the group, which is definitely about to notice her. She mumbles to herself that she is ready to face them. And that they don’t seem too bad after all)

◦ Octavia: *shaky voice* Uhm… hello? *eyes them*
◦ Finch: *turns* Yes… *notices the grey, talking, purple-eyed pony mere metres away from him* Good… God!
◦ Levin: *turns around sharply, reaching for the holster* Back, Mr. Finch!

(Everyone turns and sees Octavia, reacting with catatonic amazement)
◦ Octavia: *retracts in fear* Please… no! I… you… wanted to…
◦ Hartfield: *reacts quickly, to the DS-agents* Hold it… Wait.

(An awkward moment of silence; Levin and her agents have frozen in their tracks, Finch is trying to surpress the sensation of jolt, Laukkinen absent-mindedly turns the camera and frames the extraordinary equine, and Matuszek curiously knees down a tad to be on the pony’s height)

◦ Matuszek: *wide-eyed, murmuring absent-mindedly* Was in aller Welt ist denn das? *quickly corrects herself and directly asks Octavia* You… can… speak?
◦ Finch: *has snapped out of it; follows Mrs. Matuszek’s example and knees; murmurs* I… don’t believe it.

(Octavia grows more and more nervous; she would too be fascinated by her human counterparts, weren’t they in superior number; Finch and Matuszek notice that, and slowly try to approximate…)

◦ Matuszek: *not knowing what to say; she decides to introduce herself* My… my name is Elke Matuszek, Dr. Elke Matuszek. *she is unsure, talks slowly* How… is yours?
◦ Octavia: *answers stammeringly* My name is Octavia. Octavia Strings. You wanted to…
◦ Finch: *attempting the formal approach* Don’t be scared, Octavia. Or is it Ms. Strings?
◦ Octavia: You c-can c-call me Octavia. *wants to break the ice* Who… what are you?
◦ Matuszek: We are human, Octavia. Do you know, what humans are?
◦ Octavia: *in sudden realization* I do. *shows doubt* But only from Bedtime stories. I didn’t know you would actually exist. Let alone even come to Equestria…
◦ Hartfield: *beat* Equestria?
◦ Matuszek: *to Octavia* Equestria? *Quickly deduces it’s connection to ‘Equinae’* Is… this where we are right now?
◦ Octavia: *nods worryingly* Aha…
◦ Finch: *cautiously* I am sorry, but may I ask whom I am addressing? What is your profession or rank?
◦ Matuszek: Mr. Finch, please don’t be impolite.
◦ Octavia: No, not at all, please… I earned my cutie mark in music. It is my family’s trade. I play the Cello.
◦ Matuszek: Cutie Mark? Is that an honouring?
◦ Finch: I am sorry, Octavia. Are you here by yourself?
◦ Levin: *still clutching her holster, but has difficulties differentiating between believing her eyes and forming a rational thought* I don’t think she is. *looks around briefly*
◦ Laukkinen: *still clutching his tripoded camera* Hullu Hevosia… *takes a few pictures*
◦ Octavia: *faintly remorseful* No. I am here alone. *looks for justification* I know, you may have wanted to speak to a princess. But I could not simply tell her that… *mumbles timidly* ponytale creatures…
◦ Hardfield: Did you say ‘princesses’?
◦ Octavia: *confused* Yes. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. I thought you wished to speak them.
◦ Finch: We are!... *clears his throat, slows down* We are. *observing Octavia’s confusion* I may have to explain myself, with all respects. Would that be appropriate with you, Octavia?
◦ Octavia: I… *gulps* I would appreciate it…
◦ Finch: My name is Donathan Finch. My colleague here *designates Hartfield*, Lucas Hartfield, Dr. Elke Matuszek and I, have come here, to *scratches his forehead* learn more of your country, your world, your culture. *empathetically* Do you follow?
◦ Octavia: *warming up* Yes, I do. *attempts a positive facial expression*. W-welcome in Equestria.
◦ Matuszek: Thank you. *with a faint smile*
◦ Finch: However, Octavia, I have to add that we are here in Equestria on a professional task. We are envoys, of our very own countries, having come here to speak with your leaders.
◦ Octavia: I see…
◦ Finch: You may be aware that humans and Equines…
◦ Octavia: *well-meaning* Do you mean ‘ponies’?

(Dr. Matuszek and Mr. Finch don’t quite understand)

◦ Hartfield: Well, you may be a pony.
◦ Octavia: But we’re all ponies, here in Equestria… So we prefer being called… ponies. *smiles shyly*
◦ Finch: Octavia. You may have noticed that humans have not been to Equestria as long as seven centuries. Ponies, such as you,… they have been viewed as mythological characters of our world as much as humans have been here. It was us who managed to rediscover Equestria… *quickly corrects himself* for ourselves, that is... But we are afraid that seven hundred years of estrangement will indeed negatively affect any possible future relations. It is the task of myself and my colleagues to nip it in the bud. It is this reason why we need to meet with the King or the Queen - the Monarchs – of Equestria.
◦ Octavia: I unfortunately only am an Orchestra Pony. I am sorry, but I don’t think that I have the right to present you to Princess Celestia.
◦ Hartfield: But would you at least lead us to the princess? Couldn’t you possibly bring us close? It is of great importance and of great interest.
◦ Octavia: *hopeless* No. I am not the right one to be dragged into things. I was just the wrong pony at the wrong place at the wrong time.

(Speaking of the devil, Twilight and Applejack; who have been wandering through the short strap of forest in search of Octavia the whole time, emerge from the forest just behind Octavia, bearing surprised faces. Hartfield and Levin and her agents take notice of them soon enough, but instead curiously watch what they would do next. Laukkinen, who observe everything through the lens of his camera, objectively tilts to the two others. He is the only one to immediately notice that Twilight actually is a unicorn)

◦ Twilight: *smelling danger* Octavia! What gives?
◦ Applejack: *trying to lure her back to safety* Octavia, gebbeck here, quickly!
◦ Octavia: *surprised, spins around* Twilight? Applejack?
◦ Finch: *stands up quickly, trying to drag Mrs Matuszek up with him* What is it? *confused; to Octavia* Do you know them?
◦ Octavia: No… I mean Yes! But they don’t know-
◦ Applejack: Who are dey, Octavia? Wat’s goin’ on?
◦ Octavia: No, please! It’s not what it looks like.
◦ Hartfield: We, uh, are heralding- I mean heralds…
◦ Applejack: *squints eyes of realisation* Ay, wait joost a sec. *suspensefully to Twilight* Dey look like… *questioningly* ‘umans?
◦ Matuszek: Wir sind… we … we are human! Please, don’t be scared. We come on friendly terms!
◦ Twilight: *both to Applejack and to the others* But humans… are only ponytale myths.
◦ Octavia: *warranting* But so was Nightmare Moon!
◦ Finch: *to Hartfield* Who?
◦ Twilight: *in doubt* I see. But are they friendly? *addresses group directly* What would you want here?
◦ Octavia: They want to speak to the Princesses!
◦ Finch: Yes, we are emissaries of…
◦ Applejack: *warily* Whae do you want to speek to de Princesses?
◦ Hartfield: *running awkwardly short of temper* It’s official business. We were sent here by the United Nations, the union of the humans’ countries, to speak to the leaders of Equestria!
◦ Applejack: Wait… dere more of you?
◦ Finch: Yes. Yes, there are. This is why we are so interested in bringing our countries closer together!
◦ Twilight: *fascinated* Really? This is incredible…
◦ Applejack: *very suspicious* I don’t know, Twilight…
◦ Matuszek: I swear, you can trust us. We have no fiendish intentions towards you. Your surprise and novelty is mutual.
◦ Twilight: Well, they do seem to be well-spoken and well-taught… *makes a move forward*
◦ Applejack: *mumbling; fortified in her preoccupation* I’m a’stayin’ raght here until it’s definite. I’ve never heard any good tales a’bout ‘em! Just get Octavia outta dere and run fer it!
◦ Twilight: *in a ridiculed tone* Applejack, please! Stories are stories. Trust me... *bravely approaches Matuszek, Hartfield and Finch* My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am pleased to meet you.
◦ Matuszek: I assure you it is a pleasure for us as well. *notices the horn* Oh…
◦ Twilight: Is everything alright?
◦ Matuszek: Yes, of course. The thing is, I have never personally encountered a unicorn before.

(Finch, Hartman and Levin notice the horn too. They are clearly impressed)

◦ Forgive me my ignorance. I have only heard of creatures like you in old historical documents, and even then I didn’t believe creatures like you exist. *acknowledges the horn with her fingers* It is magnificent.
◦ Twilight: And I have only heard of humans in old scriptures *acknowledges Dr Matuszek’s face with her hoof*. It’s… interesting.

You always were distant bogeybeasts for us, just like Nightmare Moon or so. But as a librarian, I have to say that I do know all of the old folk tales.
◦ Matuszek: *apologetically* I unfortunately do not know all your folk tales yet, but did you say you were a librarian?
◦ Twilight: Yes, I am a personal scholar of Princess Celestia, which is a great honor for me.
◦ Finch: I am sorry, *tires to remember name* Ma’am, but do you know a Princess personally?
◦ Twilight: *smiles* Yes, I do. I could present you to her if you wish to. It would be a great honor.
◦ Hartfield: *excited* This is just great. *also fails to remember name* Ma’am, a thousand thanks for you cooperation.
◦ Twilight: *smiles blushingly* Oh it’s nothing, really. I feel this will be an important event for us all. *to Octavia, who is still standing there* You will also be rewarded for your bravery. And that you kept your word to some mysterious visitors.
◦ Octavia: *surprised but slightly worried* What? Me?
◦ Twilight: Of course. After all it was you who received them.
◦ Octavia: But I was too scared to tell Princess Celestia myself.
◦ Matuszek: Well, no harm done. Anyone can accompany us if they want.
◦ Levin: *to herself* Bad idea. But God, what are they going to do anyway?

(Concluding Music Cue)

3. Bad Apples

3. Scene – The Pathway

·Laukkinen: *turns on a digital voice recorder he brought along* Okay. So, uh, I walk here. With the delegation of Mr. Finch and Mr. Hartfield. I… *sounds of checking his pocket* Oh Jumala, One moment. Mr. Hartfield, what is the clock?

·Hartfield: Dunno, the battery’s still dying on me.

·Laukkinen: Kunossa! *to DVR* Well. It’s about noon, and we go through small forests and a big field, about for one kilometre, so twenty minutes. We have talked with our, uhm, greeting party. Is consisting of three Equine… ponies. Look like Shetlands. Have nigh-human style of life. They talk. And in English (note: with strangely American dialect). Claim to have a society, called Equinestria. Have very distinct genetic traits. One has purple eyes, another one has purple mane and fur, as well as dark purple eyes. The same one has… a horn-like growth on forehead. Very reminiscent of a… *cannot remember English word* Translate: Yksisarvinen. Back to the culture: One wears strange fedora-esque headgear.

·Applejack: Would you stop touchin’ my hat?!

·Laukkinen: *excited* Sorry. Could you… repeat it again? Speak into here, please…

·Applejack: and put that thing outta my face. *grunts* Will you keep doin’ thes for de ho’ trip now?

·Laukkinen: *ignores her* It is fascinating. Very Americanismic choice of words. Apart of that, have noticed a rank and honour system (consisting of “jolly badges” in areas of life in which they excel, such as agriculture or musical instrumentality), additional to a social hierarchy structure.

·Applejack: Could you just stuhp usin’ fancy terms, mister?!

·Laukkinen: They have community leaders: One… no two monarchs. They are entitled… “Princesses”. However, there is no king or queen represented above, apparently…

·Applejack: Are you insultin’ da princesses now, huh?!

·Laukkinen: *finally acknowledges her* If you want to comment, say it into here, please!

·Applejack: No!

·Laukkinen: It is my profession to document the progressing. After all, I am a reporter and News correspondent. *back to DVR* Pardon the interruption. One of the Equines is shy, reserved. One is interested, fascinated, very approaching to the delegates. The third one is very… ehm… temperamental, though-

·Applejack: *snaps* Now listen here, mister! First’y it’s “Equestria”, nuht “Equestriana”! Second’y, it’s “Cutie Marks”, not “Juhlly Badg’ies”! Third’y: Ah’ve heard stories of my own grandmother ‘bout ya ‘umans, an’ ya weren’t nuht well receiv’d!

·Levin: *to Applejack* I am sorry, Ms. Applejack, is it? I am in charge of the safety of the emissaries. If you keep showing such an antagonistic attitude, I will have to separate you from this party.

·Twilight: *intervenes; to Levin* Please, I must apologize for my friend. She is still… very unacquainted to such situations. I will talk to her.

·Laukkinen. *back to DVR* Well, it is noon on the 15th of September, my name is Joona Filip Laukkinen, Documentator of the Diplomatic Exploration of H#12 as intended by the United Nations delegation under Charge d’affaires Donathan Finch. H#12 is now formally defined as The Kingdom… no… the principality of Equestria.*turns off the DVR* So, that is done. *to Finch, who is nearby* Log 1 of Day 1 completely recorded, Mr. Finch.

·Finch: Thank you, Mr. Laukkinen. Please have some battery power reserved to record the talks. *grabs and digs around his suitcase, which now looks hilariously out of place in the woods*

·Twilight: *hissing to Applejack* Was that really necessary?

·Applejack: Nah, it wasn’t. But ah juhst wonder ‘bout mah granny’s stories regardin’ ‘em ‘umans. Dey say dat they put ponies to work, and dat dey ate ‘em afterwards.

·Octavia: *intimidated* Oh, really?

·Twilight: Now these are just stories, Octavia. They are just legends.

·Octavia: Well, I don’t know. If you get them told to you your whole life, one does start to believe them sooner or later…

·Twilight: Aw, come on, you two. These are just tales you tell to fillies to get them to sleep. *looks into the noon sky; double-takes* Say, didn’t we forget something?

·Applejack: Whaddya mean?

·Twilight: *realises* Talking of fillies; we were in our way to Pinkie Pie, weren’t we, Applejack?

·Applejack: Holy apples, yes! Ah todally forguht that! Somepony has to tell ‘er dat we cain’t make it.

·Octavia: Who do you mean? Pinkie, my sister?

·Twilight: Yes, yes. *double take* Wait, what? She is you sister? I didn’t know that.

·Applejack: Me neith’r. You’re her sister, Octavia? But she never told uhs dat.

·Octavia: Well, we haven’t spoken for some time. We just had different aspirations, that’s all. I always wanted to play a Cello on the big stage in Ponyville, and maybe for Princess Celestia. She, on the other hoof…

·Applejack: Always wan’ed to be a “partey!!!” pony, huh?

·Octavia: *looks on the floor* Aha.

·Twilight: Would you perhaps like to join us later on, when we meet up with Pinkie?

·Octavia: *rolls eyes in uncertainty* I don’t know…

·Twilight: Come on, she is your sister, after all.

·Octavia: *looks up again; at Twilight* Oh well…

·Applejack: Okay, c’mon den, Octavia. We’re past due anyway… can’t get away fruhm ‘ere fast enuff!

·Octavia: What, are we going now already?

·Applejack: Sure, now or never. We may ‘ave to send Pinkie on ‘er way, ‘cos she’ll probably freak out when she sees dem ‘umans…

·Twilight: Yes, that’s probably a good idea, Applejack. You two go. Pinkie can come along *rolls eyes* but I wouldn’t advise it… *to Levin* I’m sorry Ma’am, but there is some personal matters my friend have to attend to. Can they join us later on?

·Levin: *skeptical* Yes… technically speaking… please mind your entrances from now on, though. I want to take notice of all of this group’s movements now. Please be discrete about their Excellency’s presences, this mission is classified as ‘Confidential’.

·Applejack: Okay, Twilight, see y’all lader!

·Octavia: Good bye, Twilight.

·Twilight: See you both later.

(Concluding Music Cue)

4. Of Birds And Dragons

4. Scene – In the sky

(the Chinook has cancelled its ten minute area supervision, and returns to the designated air path towards the mainland. Kinsman loosely sits on the co-pilot’s seat, meticulously studying a map. His second, ‘Jane’, has instilled the autopilot. The situation is all in all very relaxed. Locon, the aeronautical engineer, leans over the cockpit’s ice box and tosses Coke cans to the others, who gratefully catch them)

·Kinsman: Thanks, Locon. *opens it and drains it halfway in only one mouthful* I hope *points down* the gentlemen manage to amuse themselves down there. But I have no idea how to pick them up again. They didn’t set an ultimatum or anything…

·Locon: DILLIGAF? I’m just happy that we could bug out without any further special requests of their ‘majestic highnesses’. *takes a big zip* Should’ve been my free day today. No flight routines, no training, no patrolling, not even bloody desking, how generous is that? Anyways, then *gesticulates with a hand-wave* the Light Colonel himself flutters up at my place about “the classified escort assignment” for that bunch of pencil brass. And my mood went downhill from that moment on. And on your question who’ll pick them up again, Flogg Off; *wipes his mouth* let C-group do it. That lazy bunch of WOBTAMs. *empties his can*

·Kinsman: RHIP, my friend. I was at least proposed to.

·Locon: And you accepted it?

·Kinsman: Yes. Because ‘that’s’ *points at his smile* how you impress the brass. Y’know flying politicians around and being all cosmopolitan and contributioning or whatever. And we didn’t even fly over unknown terrain. Hell, it’s not even boring! There’s interesting things going down there. Why else would you think the goddamn UN is interested in it?

·Locon: Oil. It’s always oil these days.

·Kinsman: I heard that it’s about a lost tribe or civilisation something. And rare animals. Or both. Figure they have a few spare dodos lurking around. *squashes the empty can and nonchalantly throws it on the ground; turn to his co-pilot* So Jane. How’s the course? Are we over the borders soon?

·Jane: *equally nonchalant* No, Flogg Off. In fact, I’m quite worried it will take much longer. The autopilot is being nuts again. I’m currently trying to spot ourselves on the map.

·Kinsman: And *his patience being tested* you couldn’t have told us this incredibly disturbing matter of facts any earlier?! FIGJAM, Jane, FIGJAM!

·Jane: *trying to evade Flogg Off’s berating, he looks outside on his side; he notices a very large cloud, formed like an entire white mountain range floating in mid-air* Now that’s interesting.

·Locon: *follows Jane’s view* Well, where did that big thing come from?! A cumulus cloud, and how!

·Kinsman: Looks dangerous. We change the flying route above it. There’s no point in circumventing it left or right. Advancing to 16500 feet…

·Jane: *takes out his binocular* Now, that is very strange. *hands the binoculars to Kinsman* Flogg Off, look at those shadows atop of the cloud. They look like structures of some sort.

·Kinsman: *looks through them* Aaaah, yes. Very funny optical illusion, but nothing special, really. *turns to Jane* Ever been to New Zealand? That’s where the landscape starts getting really interesting.

·Locon: *inspecting the radar panel; quizzical* Uhm, Flogg Off. You better take a look at that one here.

(The radar screen shows a tiny but fast little dot closing in on the Chinook from behind)

·Kinsman: *bows over and observes the small dot* Its fast. But nowhere near the speed or agility of a SAM or AAM.

·Locon: No doesn’t look like it. *observes it for another second* But it is coming closer. It’s trailing path is curved and inconsistent. As if it were manually directed.

·Jane: So it’s a plane?

·Locon: No, it’s nowhere near the size of a plane. It’s the size of a medium missile…

·Kinsman: *sitting upright in his seat* That’s good enough for me. *straps himself hard; jumps into action*. Jane, deactivate the autopilot.

·Jane: *leans forward toward the switch panels* Right, Flogg Off! *the helicopter trembles and turns as the autopilot is exited*

·Kinsman: And Locon, make the IDFs ready!

·Locon: *dashes towards his sear, buckles in and makes use of the switches* Yes, Flogg Off!

·Kinsman: *checks his mechanical watch* So, Jane, make ready for evasive manoeuvre starting at fifteen!

(Fifteen seconds go by as the crew actively watches the mysterious FO advance upon their Chinook. 10000 feet, 5000 feet…)

·Kinsman: Locon; flares! Jane, turn ‘er around!

·Locon: Affirmative, Flogg Off!

·Jane: Yes, Flogg Off!

(A rocket-like hissing emanates from the Chinook’s back as the area outside is lit in orange light. Then the Chinook immediately whirls around by it’s two rotor sets, shaking and pulling fast to right. The crew cling to their belts, but Locon watches the left side’s porthole to espy the mysterious trailer. It shoots past it like a white and yellow flash. As the helicopter normalises again, the three airmen see that the thing has suddenly halted and stopped only a few dozen metres left from their windscreen.)

·Jane: It’s a bloody bird! It must be, it’s standing, like, in mid-air.

·Locon: That is not a bird, Jane. Look. It’s got… legs. Four of ‘em.

·Kinsman: It’s a… *doesn’t believe his own eyes* It’s a Pegasus!

(The Pegasus outside makes menacing movements with it’s hooves that resemble them carving in an arena’s sand. Then, suddenly, its takes another shot directly at the windshield, much to the helpless pilots’ horror. But it stops directly in front of it, staring at them.)

·Kinsman: (breathes) I do not believe it… a real Pegasus. A real Pegasus!

·Locon: *lost for any other words* Your orders, Flogg Off?

(The Pegasus, however, bangs against with his hooves against the windshield, then rests his head against it, glaring once more at the crewmen. Only now do they notice it wears metal plates and a helmet that resembles ancient greek armour. The armour looks like pure gold)

·Jane: It doesn’t like us. SNAFU.

·Kinsman: Second that.

(Then, the Pegasus slides to the right of the helicopter, apparently meticulously looking for an entry point. It drags the hooves alongside the plane’s outer skin, creating as haunting scratching sound.
Meanwhile, only a kilometre beneath, lies Cloudsdale, misinterpreted by the pilots as visual illusions. Rainbow Dash and Derpy have a private cloud circumventing marathon. As Derpy, slower as always, gets one full roundabout, she nearly collides with a Royal Guard Pegasus flying through the race track, apathetic to both Rainbow Dash’s and Derpy’s presence)

·Rainbow: Hey, watch where you’re going, or you’ll have to deal with me!

·Derpy: Yeah, you’ll have to deal with her!

(Before they can get any further, they espy the Chinook hovering far above them.)

·Rainbow: Is something going on up there?

·Derpy: Well, I don’t see anything…

·Rainbow: *still looking up* Derpy, if you won’t put on those darn glasses sooner or later, you wont see where you’re flying either.

·Derpy: I can see perfectly awesome. Thank you very much for your trustfulness, Rainbow Dash!

·Rainbow: *notices the strange thing above* It’s another royal guard. He’s attacking something.

·Derpy: *gawking up* Wut?

·Rainbow: I have no idea.

(Notices how the Royal Guard tries to attack the rear end of the Chinook, just as another flare round shoots out, in a desperate attempt to frighten him away. The Guard notices that the phosphorus bullet scuffed his tail, and evokes a panicked yelp as he shoots straight back to Cloudsdale, leaving a black smoke trail all the way)

·Rainbow: Whoah, it spurting fire! It’s attacking him!

·Derpy: We have to do something!

(Speaking of the devil, several more Guard-Pegasi storm past them, taking off to engage the monstrous thing. Two of the guards halt, and turn around to Rainbow, whom they remember)

·Guard: Hey, aren’t you the weather pony who won in the Best Young Flying Competition?

·Rainbow: *skeptic* Uh… yeah?

·Guard: *stern and certain* We may need your help. That monstrosity up there was trying to attack Cloudsdale. Thank goodness we had caught it on the hop! But it’s armoured, so we cannot beat it down. Can you possibly blow it out of the sky with a tornado or a thundercloud?

·Rainbow: *modesty* Heh, if you mean I should… *suddenly vitalised* a tornado sounds good! I’ll give you the biggest tornado you have ever set eyes on!

·Guard: *unimpressed* Follow us.

·Derpy: *hyped* And and and what about me? Can’t I help with something too?

·Guard: *bluntly* No, Derpy! *flies off with Rainbow*

·Derpy: *disgruntled; hissing to herself* ‘Oooh no Derpy, we don’t need your help, Derpy, you’re of no use, Derpy!’ *double-takes* Wait, how did he know my name?

(The guards scatter as Rainbow begins with her big whirls around the supposedly dreaded fire-spitter. She gets faster and faster, collects all the clouds she can find on the way. Soon, when she reaches a break-neck speed, she releases the clouds, and the winds inside the designated area get more and more turbulent. The pilots try to fly away, but they cannot control the Chinook optimally enough to make it outside. They are trapped in the eye of the storm)

·Rainbow: *can hardly speak due to the speed* That’s what you get for trying to ruin my hometown, you monsteeeeeeeer!

(The Chinook can no longer balance out the wind pressure, and begins to turn with the wind. As it now is out of control, it begins to float out of the eye, right into the dangerous current. Inside, Kinsman, Lokon and Jane make their prayers as the red emergency lights and electronic alert signals dye the cockpit red)

·Kinsman: *while being rocked back and forth by the storm* I don’t know what we have gone ourselves into. It’s like a bad dream from which we can’t manage to wake up!

·Lokon: *suddenly unbuckles himself, much to the shock of the others* This is not how I’m going to go, Flogg Off! *rips the parachute from under his seat* I’m going to jump for it!

·Jane: Are you mental?! Have you seen what’s happening out there?!

·Lokon: Yes! And no, sir, I don’t know what’s going on! But by God, I at least want to end up the way I want to! Flying like a bird!

·Kinsman: *looks for his parachute* Or a bloody Pegasus, hah! Where’s my chute, Jane? *Jane frightenedly looks at him* What? I don’t have anything to lose now, do I?

·Jane: No! No, sir! *unbuckles himself*

(The Chinook turns and tilts, and eventually literally falls out of the sky. Rainbow Dash exhaustedly looks at the hurricane she initiated. The hurricane slowly diminishes again; she had carefully made him short-lived so Cloudsdale itself would not be imperilled.
Then she spots the Chinook’s back hatch opening; the three jump out, falling nearly synchronically with the helicopter. Then, one chute after another opens. They are literally hurled away from the whirlwind, enabling them to slowly but gradually descend upon Cloudsdale.
The Chinook however, drops directly at the city’s heart. Countless Pegasi make a fly for it as the massive iron bird melts through the individual cloud layers like a hot knife through butter, and then proceeds to plummet towards earth and out of eyesight. The three pilots dangle on their chutes, nearly five kilometres above the mainland. The remaining winds carry them towards the massive cloud, and only now do they notice the white buildings and streams of rainbow colour making up most of the surface. Locon lands first, when his parachute becomes entangled on a big chimney which strangely lies in-between many, tiny small rain clouds. Kinsman lands on solid roman roofing belonging to the great forum in the centre. Jane, on the other hand, sinks right through the ground, unable to find a solid halt.)

·Kinsman: *overwhelmed by what just happened; unpacks a small emergency radio* Ahem, Locon, do you read me?

·Locon: *hears the radio message; sees Kinsman sitting on the forum roof, about 500 metres away; answers extremely calmly* Positive, Flogg Off. Every single word. Over.

(an awkward silence ensues as both dazed men fully realise that they have landed on)

·Locon: *looks left and right* Dear God. *to radio* Flogg Off?

·Kinsman: I hear you.

·Locon: Are we, by any chance, in heaven? Because I always thought that heaven looks like this.

·Kinsman: Negative, Locon. *Scrambles to the edge of the roof, looking for the plane, but is instead received by dozens of Pegasi on the main square, looking up to him.* Very negative.

·Locon: Negative negative or WAG negative?

·Kinsman: The latter. Say, have do you happen to see Jane or the bird around here somewhere?

·Locon: *tries to see everything around him, until he remembers that he hangs by his shoulders* Ehm, negative. Over.

·Kinsman: This is really bad. We’re stranded. So’s the pencil brass on the ground.

·Locon: Will someone get us down? Sooner than later?

·Kinsman: *takes another look at the stunned crowd* Definitely.

(Concluding Music Cue)

5. Ponytales

4. Scene – Applejack’s Farm

(Applejack and Octavia advance just arrived at the farm gate, knowing that Pinkie was waiting there for them)

·Applejack: Now… where’s your sis lurkin’ about agin?

·Octavia: I don’t know… I can’t see her anywhere. Are you sure she came to wait here?

·Pinkie Pie: *virtually appearing out of nowhere; jumps around excitedly* Yep! *jumps between the two* Wooo. Hey guys, what’s up?

·Applejack: Hi Pinkie, we d’came here to see if you was alright-

·Pinkie Pie: Yeah sure, I’m alright alright, but guys: you won’t believe what just happened! It’s amazing! Unbelievable!

·Applejack: *stays objectional* That’s nice Pinkie. But listen here furst; I’m ‘fraid we’ll have to cancel our hike today. Dere’s important business waitin’ for Twilight and Princess Celestia. And second’y: Ah brought your sister Octavia along!

·Pinkie: *to Octavia; seems to notice her only now, but doesn’t seem too surprised* Hi little sis! Long time no see!

·Octavia: *a bit uneasy* Hello, Pinkie.

·Pinkie: How’s your Fiddle-Fiddling coming along? Does it sound awesome already?

·Octavia: I moved up to the Cello. I mean, you know that. Didn’t we see each other at the Grand Galloping Gala?

·Pinkie: Oooh yeah! Thanks for playing that song for me! Wasn’t it some cool party in the end?

·Octavia: Well, you all nearly levelled the Royal Mess Hall. So it depends.

·Pinkie: *shining as bright as ever* Ooh, no harm done! *thinks* Now where was I…? Oooh, yes. Guys! You won’t believe what happened!

·Applejack: Lemme guess. *happily* Grandma straightened her hip agin?

·Pinkie: No, silly! My Pinkie senses were at it again!

·Applejack: *excited* Really? Wut ‘appened?

·Pinkie: Twitchy Tail!

·Octavia: “Pinkie Sense”? What is that?

·Applejack: Dat’s when yore sister can predict crazy things joost by twitchin’ body part! And “Twitchy Tail” usually means that sumthin’ fell outta de sky.

·Pinkie: Exactly! And guess what? Something did fall out of the sky! Right on your old barn, Applejack!

·Applejack: *frowns instantly* What, our ould Apple Family Apple Barn?

·Pinkie: Yeah!

·Applejack: Is… the barn okay?

·Pinkie: Nope! Totally flattened! Pulverized! Untraceable!

·Applejack: Oh no… what could’ve possibly fell on it to flatten the entire barn? Ah mean, that thing must’ve been huge!

·Pinkie: Come and look for yourselves!

(the three proceed to the old barn. Or at least its remains. Big Macintosh is already at the scene, over-viewing the field of shredded wood planks while chewing on a straw)

·Big Mac: *calmly* Hi, Applejack. Who’s yore friend?

·Applejack: Hi Mac. This is Pinkie’s sister Octavia. *looks at the destruction* Did you see wut ‘appened?

·Big Mac: Eeeyup.

·Applejack: Well, what was that?

·Big Mac: It wasn’t preddy.

·Applejack: Dat wasn’t mah question, Mac.

·Big Mac: Why don’tcha go and look for yoreselves?

(Applejack starts to dig through some of the rubble, with Octavia observing her findings and Pinkie eagerly hopping on the spot. With on pull of a plank, Applejack uncovers an upturned Kangaroo roundel, printed on a large metal surface)

·Applejack: Hang on, ah know dat thing! It’s the thing the ‘umans came in, Octavia!

·Big Mac: Who?

·Pinkie: What?

·Applejack: *being the bad liar she is* Uh, no one.

·Octavia: You are right. But how did it end up on top of your barn?

·Applejack: Dunno. *slits her eyes for dramatic effect* But ah knew them ‘umans would be nothin’ but trouble!

·Pinkie: “Nothin’ but trouble”?

·Big Mac: *approaches the two* Now wut in alluf Equestria are ya talkin’ about? What is what ‘about them ‘umans’?

·Applejack: Uh… Octavia here… has met… Oh ah can’t do it. Octavia, you tell ‘im, Ill go and look after Granny Smith.

·Octavia: *nervous* Applejack! No, wait!

·Pinkie: *all eager, as usual* So, what happened? Tellmetellmetellme!

·Octavia: Well, okay. I have been on my way from Everfree Forest ten days ago…

(While Octavia tells Big Mac and Pinkie everything she had witnessed, Applejack goes into the farmhouse to personally tell her about the human visit. After all, Granny Smith was the one who had always told her those frightening stories about humans. Maybe she knew even more)

·Applejack: Granny Smith, ah’ve got crazy news.

·Granny: *sits in her rocking chair; is half asleep* Wut? Applejack, ith dat you?

·Applejack: Yes, it’s your Applejack. Have ya seen what mess happened outside?

·Granny: Thure. I heardh it alright. A bigh crath, an’ dha barn wath gone.

·Applejack: Granny, ah think ah know whose fault iddis.

·Granny: What?

·Applejack: AH THINK AH KNOW WHOSE FAULT IDDIS.

·Granny: Oookay, ya donth have to thtart shoutin’.

·Applejack: Granny, ah’ve seen… ‘umans!

·Granny: ‘Umanth? You’ve theen ‘em?

·Applejack: Yeah, they look just like in your stories. They walk on two hooves, an’ have flat faces. They said they wanned to speak to the princesses.

·Granny: Oooh, thothe mennatheth are really comin’ ‘ere?

·Applejack: Whaddaya know about ‘em, Granny?

·Granny: When ah wath onleh a young filly, mah daddy toldh me dat he an’ mom weren’t born in Equethria. Dhey told me dat dey were actually born and raithed in thome great prairieth, where dey had lived many yearth. Den dey were attackedh bah ‘umanth, who tried to enthlave ‘em an’ force ‘em to work! Howev’r, dey ethcaped jootht in time, an’ some’ow made it to Equethtria, of which de ‘umanth didn’t know nothin’ about. Ah dunno how dhey reached Equethtria though, it’th an old thtory and from a long time ago, too. But now, ith theemth like they foundh it now, doe.

·Applejack: Holy apple pie, Granny. Is dat all true?

·Granny: Yep, child, it’th all true. Ya bedder watch yer back wid dothe ‘umanth around!

·Applejack: Ah will, Granny. I think dat Princess Celestia might be very interested in de story of yers. As long a swe don’ not know whad they want, we bedder keep an eye on ‘em.

·Granny: Do dat, Applejack. Tell me wad dhey look like lader on. Ah’ve been alwayth looking for’d to thee one wid mah own eyeth.

·Applejack: *storms out* Sure thing! Thanks, Granny Smith!

(Concluding Music Cue)

6. Lost Contact

4. Scene – Everfree Forest

(Sgt. ‘Jane’ Eyre crashes through the dense twigs and branches of Everfree Forest. He gets stuck only two metres above the ground, and dangles helplessly on his parachute cords. The darkness of the moor-like terrain is unnerving for him, and he quickly starts shouting for his comrades, but cannot see much behind him)

·Jane: Hello?! Flogg Off! *beat* Locon! I am stuck in a tree! I… require assistance! *tries the arranged code word* Gale! Gale!

(After a little while, he grows tired of shouting for some sort of assistance. He realises that neither Kinsman nor Mallard had landed anywhere nearby. He was alone. He fumbles with a small military knife he had just recalled. With great caution, he lops one of the strings, causing him to fully hang onto the other one. He then cuts the other one, preparing to hit the ground boots-first. However, as the second strap is cut, he falls in a slanted way, hitting the ground with his right knee. He wasn’t sure if he had broken it or not; he just knew it hurt terribly)

·Jane: *attempting to hobble along a faintly visible forest path* Ow. Ow! Christ, why are these things always happening to me? A Trash Trailer belongs to the Trashies, and nowhere else. SLUG, that’s what they’ll call me once I’m back. No mention of ‘famed war hero’, oooh no. SLUG, that’s my new name when they show me the bloody gate out of Mordor. UTS, they’ll say. *breathes heavily as he slumps his leg on the road*
It’s useless. They’ll surely come looking for us. Coming to pick us up. They’ll surely notice there are three pencil pushers, one Paparazzi and three wannabe-Adgies that are amiss. *he packs out his small parachute emergency kit; it includes a flare gun with five rounds; he loads it and jokingly aims at the various trees crowding around him* Ka-boom! Ollus wanted to try that one out.

(Suddenly, one of the trees begins moving as if somebody were hiding behind it. Jane notices it immediately)

·Jane: Who is it? *shouts out the codeword*Gale…

(no response, the movement behind the bushes instead becomes even more frantic; Jane nervously unpacks his gun, and picks up the flare gun with his left hand. He aims at the bushes)

·Jane: Come out! I’m armed! Royal Australian Air Force NCO speaking! Come out of there!

(Slowly, a small white head of a chicken pokes out of the undergrowth)

·Jane: *sinks back in ungodly relief; looks up* You must be joking…

(Then the chicken spreads its green, scaly wings and opens its fiery red eyes at Jane)

·Jane: *picking up the flare gun again in panic* Ooooh no you won’t!

(The flare gun unloads at the monster. The flare hisses towards the chicken, but blows up beforehand, blinding both Jane and the thing)

·Jane: Not this time! I survived a goddamn tornado!

(He rapidly stands up and quickly limps away, holding the flare gun in one hand and the pistol in the other. The monster takes a few seconds, and then starts the chase; the monster and surprisingly speedy with its little legs, and nearly catches up to the limping sergeant, eventually snapping at him, which causes him to drop).

·Jane: *lying on his back, sees the creature hop on top of him and walking around a bit* Stay back! Whatever you are! *he points his pistol at it; the monster is nearly in touching range of the mussle* Yeeees, hold still…

(Then suddenly, the creature fully opens up and looks him deep into the eyes; he tries to pull the trigger, but he feels how he looses the control of his fingers; they feel numb. His arms have been turned into stone)

·Jane: *weak with shock* No… nonono…

·Bystander: Hey you! What did I tell you?!

(He turns his head around, and his last sight before passing out, is a yellow Pegasus)

(The Is No Concluding Music Cue)

7. Dear Princess Celestia...

7. Scene – The Library

(The group of Finch and Matuszek were lead around the town’s outskirts and then directly to the library to avoid too much attention, as she knew fully well how easily the townsfolk could become panic-stricken. Twilight knocks discretely, and Spike opens the door)

·Spike: Hey, Twilight. Back alrea… *he sees the strange creatures behind her* …dy?

·Twilight: Spike, I want you to meet Mr… *cannot remember his name*

·Finch: *finishes the sentence* Finch. *notices there is a dragon standing at the door* Donathan Fi- A Dragon?!

·Matuszek: *Peeps over his shoulder* A dragon? *truly amazed* Ungeheuerlich…

·Spike: Ooookaaaay… creepy. *bows Twilight’s ear to his mouth and whispers* Who are those guys?!

·Twilight: *frees herself* These, my dear Spike, are humans.

·Spike: *wide-eyed* Humans? Wow…

·Twilight: *telling him to snap out of it* Spike, these humans are your guests. They are here to make diplomacy with Princess Celestia.

·Finch: *still unsettled* My… my name is Donathan Finch. I am the Charge d’Affaires of the Diplomatic Mission to Equestria. *acknowledges his two colleagues* These are my colleagues, Mr. Hartfield and Dr. Matuszek.

·Spike: *bedazzled* …Fascinating… *gets bluntly nudged by Twilight* Ow!

·Twilight: Spike, please, let our guests in and write a letter to Princess Celestia about their visit.

·Spike: Uuh, sure thing, Twi! Right away. *to all* Please, come in.

(Laukkinen, although impressed by the dragon’s presence as much as everyone else, remains outside, aiming for the house’s exterior with his camera)

·Hartfield: Mr. Laukkinen, please come in.

·Laukkinen: Only one minute, Mr. Hartfield. Just let me photograph this house from the exterior. Remarkable use of a tree, very similar to the Swedish Tree Housings. And that houses over there! A very interesting half-timbered house variation. Very popular in Europe of the 1500s… but never in this form…

·Hartfield: Alright, you can photograph it. But please, do not cause any unnecessary attention.

·Laukkinen: Don’t worry. You see? The town is like deserted.

(Spike and Twilight go in, quickly followed by the DS. They take a short look around, and then hail the diplomats in)

·DS-Agent: *to Levin* It’s clear, Miriam.

·Levin: *waves to the diplomats* Please come in.

·Spike: *having slumped down at the writing desk* What should I write, Twilight?

·Twilight: Well, uh, write-

·Finch: *approaching quickly* Ehm, I will take that over! *takes Twilight’s spot* Thank you for your cooperation, Ms Twilight, but this is nevertheless a form of diplomatic correspondence.

·Twilight: *slightly irritated* Okay, alright.

·Matuszek: *intervening* Mr. Finch, with all due respect.

·Finch: You are aware of the protocol as much as me, Dr. Matuszek. It is a sign of mutual respect and cooperation on a geopolitical level. *To Spike* now please: “To Her Royal Highness”… *quickly to Twilight* is this Princess Celestia’s title?

·Twilight: Well, I always call her ‘Princess Celestia’, but she will probably accept it.

·Finch: *rather gruff* I will take that as a ‘Yes’, Ms. Twilight. *dictates to Spike*: “To Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia of Equestria”. *waits for the approval of Twilight* ?

·Twilight: *exhales* Yes, this is correct.

·Finch: Well, “
The Country of Equestria, being isolated to all Nations belonging to the United Nations, has only been recently located by members of allied Armed Forces. A discrete and pre-emptive conference between the diplomatic authorities of the UN and Her Royal Highness was supposed to be arranged and agreed upon.

·Matuszek: *whispers to Hartfield* Really? That is what he is calling it? I mean, we simply drew it in the sand for a passerby horse.

·Hartfield: *whispers back* Don’t worry, I guess he knows what he’s doing. If it were any different, I wouldn’t be sitting here for long…

·Finch: *still dictating* However, due to some complications regarding the transfer of the message, there was no mutual agreement, and the diplomatic mission has run aground at a local…” *he looks around* “library, near the city centre of…” *he looks at Twilight for advice*

·Twilight: …’Ponyville’. But you can just write that the library belongs to Twilight Sparkle. I am her personal scholar.

·Finch: *stiff yet genuinely thankful* Thank you, Ms. Sparkle. *to Spike* Alright, cut that last part…

·Spike: *wearily* Okay…

·Finch: “has run aground at a library of Her Royal Highness’ Protégé, Twilight Sparkle.
Her Royal Highness is unquestionably free to either receive the diplomatic mission and engage the summit as proposed, or would otherwise benevolently allow preparations for the diplomats’ departures (through the air) to be made.
Sincerely, Donathan Finch, Envoy of the United Nations, Special Envoy of the Foreign And Commonwealth Office of the United Kingdom, Charge d’Affaires of the current Diplomatic Mission.“ Full stop.

·Spike: *Who rapidly copies everything down, rolls up the parchment and massages his right arm* Got it all (ow, my claw!).

·Finch: Excellent. Would you mind to hurry when delivering it, please? This is urgent.

·Spike: Okay… *stands up and goes up to the window*

·Finch: *startled* Are you… sending it by pigeon?

·Spike: *readying* Nope.

·Finch: *starting to get concerned* Please be careful with it.

·Spike: I am! *quickly and efficiently incinerates the letter over the windowsill with a big green flame burst*

·Finch: *buff with shock, nervously combs through his hair* What… are… you … doing?! Why did you… *goes over to Hartfield and drags him by the shoulder* Did you see what he just did? He incinerated that letter!

·Hartfield : *in startlement* Hell… *to Spike* Sucker, what did you do that for?!

·Spike: *defensively* Hey, calm down. I sent it to the princess, I swear!

·Twilight: *hurrying along; to Finch* Don’t be scared, he did send it. It’s just a faster way!

·Finch: *violently sarcastic* Well I can see that! *turns around and keeps combing* Dr. Matuszek, could you kindly tell him that it needs to be delivered?

·Matuszek: *amazed, yet tries to be reasonable* Mr. Finch, I think it is their way of sending letters.

·Finch: *stands up with a surrendered face* All right, then. *sarcastically* So, what do we do now, interpret the ashes?

·Hartfield: What is it, Finch? Are we perchance running out of Valerian Pills?

·Finch: Watch it, Hartfield. Shouldn’t you be the one agreeing with me now? This mission is about to run aground completely if no one wishes to help us!

·Twilight: *empathetically* No, we have to wait, Mr. Finch.

·Hartfield: Okay, calm down, Finch. Let’s give them a minute before I join you *glares at Spike and Twilight*. Let’s just sit down wait.

·Finch: Well, lets wait, alright.

(Both Finch and Hartfield slump down on a random staircase; Matuszek however approaches Spike, packing a copy of an historical Habsburgian Encyclopedia)

·Matuszek: I am sorry, is your name Spike?

·Spike: Yes, how is yours?

·Matuszek: Elke, Matuszek. In my country, I am a professor of history and myths. A little bit like Twilight.

·Spike: *interested* Really?

·Matuszek: Yes. And I have read and heard a lot about dragons like you.

·Spike: Awesome! I have also heard from humans, but only from ponytales.

·Matuszek: Fairytales? *smiles* So have I. *thinks; she remembers that Spike really looks like a European Dragon* Say, you don’t happen to know ‘Europe’, do you? *she opens the book and shows him a typical lindworm of a Scandinavian Coat-Of-Arms*

·Spike: Is that really how you think dragons looked? That’s weird.

·Matuszek: *grins* You think so? Do you happen to know Eastern Dragons? *shows him a separate picture of a Korean Temple Dragon* Dragons with serpent-like bodies and colourful scales.

·Spike: *realisation* Ha, tons! They’re all over the place! Both sorts!

·Matuszek: Unbelievable! *to Finch and Hartfield* It seems this nation is a combined refuge for all of Eurasian anthropomorphic mythology!

·Finch: *unimpressed* You don’t say. I just find it strangely disturbing.

·Matuszek: *to Spike* Please, do not take him too serious. We all have a tiring day behind us.

·Spike: But isn’t it only noon now?

·Matuszek: *breathes* Well, enough is enough for some…

·Spike: *making strange sounds* Ooh, I’m sorry, you better stand back.

·Matuszek: Alright… *goes a few steps back*

·Finch: What is it?

·Spike: *belches audibly, accompanied by a typical green gas cloud and a sealed parchment* Here it is.

·Hartfield: *searches his pockets for his pills* Now, that’s just disgusting.

·Finch: *standing up, he didn’t see it* What exactly did just happen? *notices the still sealed parchment* Is that… the reply?

·Twilight: Yes, Mr Finch. She has responded really quickly this time. Please, sit down again. *to Spike* Spike, read it.

·Spike: Yessir. *unscrolls the parchment* So, it says… *holds* Wait, this is strange. This cannot be written by Princess Celestia…

·Twilight: Can I ? *Spike holds the letter in front of her eyes*“Dearest Legates,
Due to a hapless circumstance in Cloudsdale, Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, is nonattending. However, We, Her Royal Highness Luna, a Princess of Equestra, hath chosen to liase with ye dearest plenipotentiaries any pivotal matters of the realm or realms. We will receive the honourable legates forthright and on the earth. Hence, Donathan Finch of the United Kingdom shall please be willed to tarry in Our confidante’s establishment until Our arrival.
Thous Truthfully, Luna, Princess of Equestria.”

·Finch: *relieved and motivated* Thank God for that. *looks towards Spike and back to Twilight* I have positively no idea how on earth it reached her… but I have to say that this mission might as well end as a success. *shakes hands/hooves with Twilight* Thank you, Ms. Sparkle, *and just looks at Spike, unwilling to shake hands* and ‘Spike’, you have been a great help. *mentions on* Say, is Princess Luna a benevolent personality?

·Twilight: But of course. She is trying to be benign to her subjects. However, it does not always succeed. She… *tries to think of a word* she is very difficult to initially comprehend.

·Matuzek: *snarky* Then, I believe Mr Finch may be the best person to attend to negotiations with her.

·Finch: *snarking back* I will take that as a compliment on my potentiality, Dr. Matuszek.

·Laukkinen: *enters through the door* I am sorry, Mr Finch. I have just finished with my documentations… have I missed anything?

·Hartfield: *smiles at his unawareness* Well, Mr. Laukkinen, you have just missed a dragon that wrote a letter, burnt it and then belched out a totally different letter.

(His description causes much amusement among the listeners)

·Laukinnen: *does not understand what Hartfield is talking about* That is interesting. *looks at Spike* On the other hand, it reminds me… *he quickly kneels down before Spike, camera at the ready* Please, you Lohikäärme, Can you fire-breathe?

·Spike: *poses comically* Sure I can! *blows a small flame*

·Laukinnen: Uskomatomnta. Hän voi! *takes the pictures*

(Concluding Music Cue)

8. P.O.W.

8. Scene – Cloudsdale Guardhouse

(Kinsman and Locon sit in a white, marble-like cell in one of the countless stable-based buildings of Cloudsdale. The cells are remarkable for having no bars or grating, as outside, two Pegasus Guards stand in an atrium-shaped room with a direct archway into the blue sky, who know full-well that only they can stand on the cloud ground outside the cell’s marble square without simply falling through. Both airmen are still very shaken up about the whole affair, yet try to communicate with the Pegasi, not fully realitzing that they are Pegasi)

·Locon: I ask you a last time: What is going to happen to us?

·Guard: *very grudgingly* Silence!

·Kinsman: You do not have a right to shut us up, GRUNT! As Prisoners Of War, we have a right to demand to speak with our Guards! Where is your commanding officer, soldier?! I want to speak your CO!

·Guard: *snubs them bluntly* Be quiet! Both of you!

·Locon: *nudges Kinsman and corrects* Technically, there is no war. So I don’t know how it would go for us.

·Kinsman: *rubs his face* We’d have to speak with an enemy officer about that. But *points at the guards* depending on what the hell those guys are, they may as well have never spoken to humans. I mean, it’s a miracle they even understand us! But if they are as remote as I think they are, it means there won’t be any diplomatic talks, agreements, extraditions, prisoner exchanges or anything else to help us out of here. We may as well be ‘cast away’.

·Locon: But the CDF or somebody will notice that we’re missing, right? He’ll send out search parties. But not for us only, but for the pencil battalion on the ground, too.

·Kinsman: *scrabbles closer together with Locon notices how one of the guards looks at them suspiciously; whispers* Yes, but I can think of how it will work: They’ll fly here, looking for us, but find the diplomats, who hopefully managed to make deals with whomever they have decided to meet down there, said ‘whomever’ might know of those *points at the guards* things, upon which they’ll hopefully locate us.

·Locon: Doesn’t exactly sound foolproof… we’re so dead. *sits back in worryings, then remembers* But what about Jane, Flogg Off? He must’ve para’d all the way to the ground. He can possibly contact the diplomats!

·Kinsman: *buries his face in his hands once more* Without a map?

·Locon: Yes… no. *sinks back in cynical despair*

(Suddenly, two other Pegasi land outside and walk into the station. It’s Rainbow Dash, who brought Derpy along because, since the incident earlier this morning, she decided to stick to Rainbow like a burdock. The guards assume a respectful and proud position in front of the hero of the day)

·Guard: *half-jokingly* Ten-shun!

·Derpy: *somehwat bashful* Hey thanks, guys.

·Guard: *ignores Derpy; to Rainbow* Have you come to see them?

·Rainbow: *jollily victorious* Yeah, I was just curious. The ponies on the main square are talking, ya know…

·Guard: *looks at the prisoners* Well, I can see why… Come to attack Cloudsdale and then they start making demands to me, Can you believe that?

·Derpy: *goggles at the two airmen* Wooow, they really do look creepy.

·Locon: *whispering to Kinsman* Wow, that one squinting over there really does look creepy…

·Kinsman: *nudges him roughly; under his breath* Shut it, Mallard! I think the rainbow-coloured one is some kind of authority. Ill talk to her.

·Rainbow: *replies to Derpy* Don’t they? *joins her in gawking through the nonexistent jail bars* Hey, you two in there. How do ya like Cloudsdale now?

·Kinsman: *affably to Rainbow* Er…, yes. Lovely. Very much, in fact.

·Rainbow: *continuing her sarcastic charade* Didn’t quite meet your expectations. Didn’t it, flatface?

·Kinsman: *unsure* Well, depends on how one defines seeing it from a prison cell.

·Rainbow: *annoyed; drops masquerade* Cut it out, wise guy! What were you trying to do to Cloudsdale in that contraption of yours?! Couldn’t have come up here without it, huh?

·Kinsman: Listen; we were not on our way to ‘Cloudsdale’, if this really is it’s name. Secondly, we did not try to attack any one; we were attacked. Thirdly: We are, apart from the fact that we nearly died beforehand, being locked up in here without trial or sentence.

·Rainbow: *no-nonesense* What, are, you?

·Kinsman: We, are, humans. You know what humans are?

·Derpy: *gasps* Whoah, humans? Like from the bedtime tales? Do you really live under the earth and eat foals for breakfast?

·Kinsman: *smiles confusedly* Nnnno…

·Derpy: *disappointed* Aaaw!

·Rainbow: *quite impressed herself* So you are real humans? Where did you come from? I didn’t know you exist in Equestria.

·Kinsman: *confused as ever* No… we are from Australia. You know where that is? *reads Rainbows bedazzled face* No, I didn’t think so. Well look, where we come from, we are soldiers. Just like your two gruff friends there.

(Receives unfriendly looks from the Guards)

·Kinsman: And I, as an officer, would require to talk with their commander or another authority to parley about our release. *sees Rainbow’s blank look* … Please?

·Derpy: *cutting short Rainbow’s reply* Ha! You wish it’ll be so easy, don’t you? Well you just wait. You’ll have to deal with Princess Celestia herself first!

·Rainbow: *to Derpy* I think that’s whom they wanted anyway.

·Derpy: Oh?

·Kinsman: I am sorry, did you say ‘Princess’?

·Rainbow: *proudly* Yes, Princess Celestia herself wants to take a dander at you ‘humans’. She might also wonder why you have a grudge against my hometown.

·Kinsman: But… but we don’t have a grudge against your hometown! We swear, we were just passing over that large cloud formation… that appears to be your hometown… thinking it was a bad weather – region.

·Rainbow: Well, why did you burn Strong Jim’s tail off?

·Kinsman: Who is that? *realises* Oh, you mean that other Pegasus soldier? Well, he was trailing our aircraft. And then started to damage it. We were even trying to scare him away without using lethal force.

·Guard: *raises eyebrow* That’s not what’s he told us! He said you tried to use fire spell on him!

·Kinsman: Now, those were countermeasure flar… *face palm in realisation; smiles* Oh, now that explains a lot. It was all a misunderstanding, then?

·Guard: You tell that to somebody who cares, flatface.

·Kinsman: You stop calling me that. I am a commissioned officer.

·Locon: *rubs his face tiredly* Lay it off, Flogg Off.

·Rainbow: Yeah. *giggles* “Flogg Off”?… gosh you really are strange dudes, aren’t you?

·Derpy: *joins in, laughs* “Flogg Off”, bwahaha! You are really funny, you know that?

·Locon: *snarks back* Well, and you need glasses for those eyes of yours.

·Rainbow: *laughs, and so do the guards, much to Derpy’s discomfort* Hah! Those guys might be okay after all?

·Kinsman: *leans forward optimistically* Does that mean we can go?

·Rainbow: *falls back to being stern* No! The law is the law. You and your creepy giant metal wood cutter have seriously messed up Cloudsdale for the day! Have you seen those holes in the ground? We can’t just let you run off scot-free! Somepony could’ve got seriously hurt! Why do you think Princess Celestia is coming here? Because we didn’t have something like you here since… ever!

·Kinsman: All right. So we will talk to your Princess. We can clear this all up easily, I’ll promise.

·Rainbow: Just wait and see. She may be kind but she is not naïve. *turns around to talk with the guards*

·Derpy: Yeah, she is a really tough one! You’ll see.

·Locon: At least we can. *smiles broadly*

·Derpy: Hey! I can see totally splendiferous! You… human! *turns around, feigning offence*

(Concluding Music Cue)

9. Personal Agendas / The Newer Encounter

8. Scene – The Library

(Finch holds his glasses before his eyes as he skims through the UN’s sepciations for the diplomatic session together with Hartfield, Dr. Matuszek talks actively with Twilight and Spike about the various differences between their worlds, Laukkinnen talks to his DVR as he meticulousy describes the architecture of the room, and Levin leans against at one of the shelves, reading one of the books with great fascination)

·Twilight: … Yes, yes. But those are skills one has to learn. One can in fact learn them, provided they have enough time and devotion.

·Matuszek: This is… simply stunning. It seems to be a skill that is utterly lost in our world.

·Twilight: Really? You know, it would make in fact make your life so much easier.

·Matuszek: But it would bring big consequences, too. We even have a saying “Achievement through quality work”. It is a simple matter of imput and output. I am not a physicist, but I would call it a law of nature. Doesn’t this make ‘magic’ capabilities… unnatural? Or even impossible?

·Twilight: Well, one just has to see it differently, too, Doctor. For us, the mind itself is a valid, physical, if only subliminal, power on its own. Of course, we use our mind to achieve ‘magic’, but basically, the power input is still larger than the resulting output.

·Matuszek: In our world, science and research is usually dismissed as… blarney, really.

·Twilight: Really? But you really are missing out a potentially huge field to research about…

·Matuszek: *smiling appreciatively* You really are a very smart young girl, Twilight. *double-take* Oh, pardon me, I meant ‘pony’.

·Twilight: *grins* Oh, no offense taken. I understand how strange this all must be for you.

·Spike: *who has simply noddied and waited before* Listen. I have absolutely no clue what you two are talking about. Output? Blarney? For me, it’s plain hocum…

·Twilight: *nudges Spike friendishly* Ooh Spike, isn’t it just adorable when you don’t understand?

·Spike: Stop it Twilight, it’s embarrassing!

(Finch and Hartfield approach the trio, smiling at how well everything is going)

·Finch: So, Mrs. Matuszek, how is the cultural exchange going?

·Matuszek: Well, it is going simply excellent. I strongly advise you to take a look at the books.

·Twilight: Please feel free, everypony. *beat* Everyone, that is. I have Twenty-thousand five-hundred and twenty books in stock.

·Hartfield: And how many of the have you read?

·Twilight: *shily rolling her eyes* Oh, I don’t really know. But I do love reading in general.

·Hartfield: So it seems. What franchises did you focus on?

·Twilight: Well, I am pretty interdisciplinary. I have a lot on medicine and culture.

·Finch: *sees Agent Levin reading* It seems like one has already found a particular area of interest. *thinks for a second* Say, Ms. Sparkle, in what state are your government agencies?

·Twilight: Sorry?

·Finch: I mean Law Enforcement. Do you have Law Enforcement?

·Twilight: Well, there still are the Royal Guards. They are in charge of keeping order and peace. They are, however, mostly responsible for the protection of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.

·Hartfield: A Praetorian Guard then, eh? And what kind of Military do you have?

·Matuszek: Mr. Finch, Mr. Hartfield. Please, we have not come to talk about such topics.

·Hartfield: Dr. Matuszek, please. This is required in our capacity. You may understand why. *to Twilight* Please, carry on, Miss.

·Twilight: *startled* As… as I said, there only is the Royal Guard. We weren’t exactly attacked before. At least nothing that the Guard could contain by themselves.

·Finch: *smiles patronisingly* Well, Ms. Sparkle. We just wanted some advice on that before the session begins.

·Hartfield: What equipment does your military carry? Do they have firearms?

·Matuszek: *snaps a little bit* This is it, Mr. Hartfield. I cannot believe that you ask questions like this out of pure mutual understanding.

·Hartfield: Quite on the contrary, really. You must not forget that we never saw them and neither were we known by them. It would be in our best interests to discuss military cooperative benefits. *back to Twilight* Are there branches in the Royal Guard? What kind of weaponry do they get issued?

·Matuszek: *insulted* I believe I will go now. *walks over to Laukkinen, who positioned his camera near a window*

·Twilight: *watches her walk away and looks up again to Finch and Harfield* Well, to be fair… I really wouldn’t like to talk about such topics. It seems that my personal principles are very different.

·Finch: I understand that, Ms Sparkle. But you, of all people must know that knowledge often does equal power.

·Twilight: *somewhat dissappointed in Finch and Hartfield* Of all ponies, Mr. Finch… *walks over to one of the bookshelves*

·Hartfield: *to Finch* I could not have formulated it worse, Finch. We do not need that kind of philosophy to accompany our reputation.

·Finch: But it is true. Just you watch it, Mr Hartfield.

(Both diplomats carry on with a conversation about their respective tasks, while Dr. Matuszek strikes up a converstion with Laukkinen seems to be finished. Twilight stops at the shelf Levin leans against. Unseen by everyone else, she levitates a book to herself and opens it. The book is entitled “The Tale of the Dragon and the Knights”)

·Matuszek: *to Laukkinen, who has witnessed the conversation* Oh, Mr Laukkinen.

·Laukkinen: *curiously* What is wrong, Ms. Matuszek?

·Matuszek: How could I have been so stupid?

·Laukkinen: What do you mean?

·Matuszek: Well, I tend to call myself an anthropologist and a sociologist, don’t I?

·Laukkinen: Why, yes. And you do a great job, if I may judge it…

·Matuszek: But how can anyone call herself that if one forgets to acknowledge our own culture.

·Laukkinen: *quickly disassembles one of his lenses, then turns around to Matuszek*

·Matuszek: *nods at Finch and Hartfield* Look at those two, Mr Laukkinen. Now that I thing of it, it was pretty naïve of me not to expect such a behaviour.

·Laukkinen: And why do you think so?

·Matuszek: Finch and Hartfield… Representatives of two of the world’s most powerful countries. Countries whose affluence is traditionally based on the representation on a global scale. With all the influence that accompanies it, naturally. Their trade is diplomacy. The trade of ensuring that one’s own nation gets a piece of the cake. It is pretty much their job to assure their nation’s interests before the Unknown. Coming here to ask for cooperation, military cooperation no less. Then they might even return for the mining rights, I suspect. It wouldn’t surprise me.

·Laukkinen: *in a patronising tone* Oh, Ms Matuszek. It is always like this, not?

·Matuszek: I’m sorry?

·Laukkinen: *grins* It is. See, when I was in Iraq in August ‘92, I accompanied an American minister, Garret McCoughney. It should have been a trip about regional conflicts at the Kuwait border. The Iraq-Kuwait Barrier, you know?

·Matuszek: Ah, yes.

·Laukkinen: Anyway…But what did the whole trip amount to in the end?

·Matuszek: What?

·Laukkinen: Visiting the Sabriyah Oil Fields.

·Matuszek: *just shakes her head* Typisch…

·Laukkinen: “Damage Prevention” he said, “The Oil Fields were burned one and a half years prior by Iraqi Forces”. He just had to see if there was still salable. But I didn’t fret about it, and so should you.
And after that, in ’95, the same thing. We were on our way to Kragujevac, then-Yugoslavia. Our last destination? The Zastava Works, to discuss “the sanctions.”
For these diplomats, you see, it is completely normal for them. Don’t blame them, Mrs. Matuszek, it is routine, it would be strange for them not to do so. It is practically the only way to appropriately do it. They accustomed to it, I accustomed to it, the brass accustomed to it. War is market, war is profit.

·Matuszek: Then I ask, Mr. Laukkinen, why are you here?

·Laukkinen: *beat* Because I love my job, Dr. Matuszek. Of course, I am not on the same train as them, but still. I like photography, I like travelling, percieving people from other cultures. So I do, I must confess, follow my very own agenda. I captured the endless deserts of Kuwait, the old, shattered Grammar School of Kragujevac on 35mm film… that itself was worth it. Yes, I report for the UN. I record diplomacy, transcribe bureaucratic processes. I… I get a good pay for that, that may be. But still, my true hobby is the documentary of the regions themselves. I make the photos, the interviews, and in the end I sell them anonymously (as long as the information is not classified). I have worked with Reuters, I have worked with the BBC. I see myself as a camera-man filming life. With a destiny to inform the rest of the world of what is happening in it.
But still, let us not pretend that we have more rights to be here than Finch and Hartfield. They do things that are… questionable… but they do genuinely care about doing them proper. Because they believe in this, they have their own standards. They want their countries to be there. They are professionals of their conviction.
So, Mrs. Matuszek, why exactly are you here then? Also any double agendas?

·Matuszek: No, just for my own curiosity, Mr. Laukkinen. And this curiosity is required, as well as fueled, by my profession. You understand what I mean?

·Laukkinen: Yes. Our tasks have quite a few things in common, Mrs. Matuszek.

·Matuszek: Maybe.

(There suddenly seems to be some commotion outside. Twilight packs away her book and gallops to the door, witnessing the black chariot landing smoothly before her entrance, pulled by four bulky black Pegasi and holding the majestic and somewhat intimidating Princess Luna, carrying a gracefully featureless smile. Twilight quickly turns to the diplomats)

·Twilight: Princess Luna has arrived.

·Finch: *who had assumed an official standing pose the moment he heard the commotion* Excellent. *to the others* Please, put away the security vests, this is getting formal. Agent Levin, please lead the way.

(Levin snaps into action, snapping the book shut and straightening her blazer. Her agents check their radios (that naturally still don’t work) and their weapons, and then crowd around Levin to receive last instructions)

·Levin: Okay, here’s the plan. The Princess seems to attract a lot of civilians. Do not touch them if they do not directly stand in the way of the delegates. Try to make clear that you want them to make an alley. As you might know, they’d be scared crapless by you as much as they scare you. Just be proffesional. It’s Standard Crowd Control.

·Agents: *along the lines of* Roger that, Levin. No worries.

(Levin slowly opens the door and sees the crowd of immensely colourful ponies, as well as Princess Luna, who is just getting off her chariot)

·Levin: *sighs* God. This is creeped out. Guys, just stay professional.

·Hartfield: Finch. You kind of should have pointed out that we’re humans, not ponies.

·Finch: *highly sarcastic* Well thank you very much, Hartfield.

(Slowly, the agents emerge from the entrance, to find themselves surrounded with rubberneck ponies. They reacted with a mixture of genuine amazement at the diplomats from a far away country, but were simultaneously at the freakish look of them. Like giant monkeys without the fur. And fully dressed. As the agents diffedently split the crowd to make an alley for the diplomats. Next, Twilight and Spike emerged from the library, approaching Princess Luna. Luna herself is indeed surprised by the visitors; she had not expexcted a diplomatic party from anyone but ponies, or in extreme cases, buffaloes. Twilight makes a short traditional bow before addressing her, knowing how much Luna paid attention to Canterlot Etiquette)

·Twilight: Good Morning, Princess Luna. The diplomats are already present.

·Luna: GOOD MORROW, TWILIGHT SPARKLE. THOU HAST SERVED THE ROYAL COURT GREATLY TODAY.

(Immediately, the ponies crowding around them jiggle back or kneel. The agents, taken off guard by the shouting, decide to knee in order to keep low)

·Twilight: Thank you, Princess Luna. *a little bit lower* Please, your volume…

·Luna: OH… Thank thee again, Twilight Sparkle *whispers into her ear upon seeing the agents* But were We not expecting Buffaloes to come and talk?

·Twilight: *corrects quickly* Oh no no. The foreign envoys are humans. This is why it was so urgent.

·Luna: Humans? *takes a second to rethink her approach* It has been… quite a long time for Us.

·Twilight: But they have come a long way to find us. They say that they didn’t know of Equestria either until a short while ago.

·Luna: So it seems. Very well then, We shall greet the humans now.

(Twilight winks at Spike who holds the door, who then holds it open for Finch, Matuszek and Hartfield. Laukkinen follows the at some distance, the camera over his shoulders. Finch stands completely stiff before Princess Luna. He had not thought how to address her, or whether he should kneel. He whispers to Matuszek, who stands to his left and to Hartfield, who stands to his right)

·Finch: *very very silently* Booooooow at threeeeee…

(Finch does what he would have done before the Queen; a discrete bow. Nearly simultaneously, Hartman bow while Dr. Matuszek makes a curtsey. All three notice her tiara and horn. Her mane, “the flaming stuff around her head”, was a mystifying as it looked on Octavia’s drawing. It assumed the form of a deep blue flame, flickering in an invisible wind. Her countenance was proud and patient. She didn’t seem like royalty, but like a deity. Her dark-blue greyishness with the sickle moon cutie mark and the majestic wings certainly did not help)

·Luna: *fascinated* NOW WHO OF THOU IS DONATHAN FINCH OF THE UNITED KINGDOM?

·Finch: *bows his head, it takes him a second* I am, Your Highness.

·Luna: *lifts her hoof for a shake* CHARMED.

·Finch: *Unsure whether to shake or to kiss it* The joy… *takes the silver-clad hoof* is on our part… *kisses it, covertly very reluctant*

·Luna: *quickly pulls back her hoof; she had just expected a formal shake* Well… yes, erm… WE HAVE HEARD THOU AND THY ACCOMPANISTS HAVE COME FROM A LAND FAR AWAY.

·Finch: That is true, Your Highness. *presents his ‘accompanists’* This, uhm, is Lucas Hartfield, a Career Minister of the United States of America, heading the economic delegation. And this Dr. Elke Matuszek of the Federal Republic of Germany, heading the Cultural and Scientific Exchange Programme. I… myself am, as Your Highness might already know, from The United Kingdom of England, Scotland and Northern Ireland…

·Luna: HAST THOU SAID ‘ENGLAND’?

·Finch: *absolutely intimidated* Yes, Your Highness…

·Luna: ENGLAND IS A COUNTRY WELL KNOWN BY PONIES OF ALL AGES. IT IS A LAND FEATURED IN THE MOST FAMOUS EQUESTRIAN TALES. SAY, DONATHAN FINCH, WHAT MESSAGES HAST THOU BROUGHT FROM THY SOVEREIGN?

·Finch: *nervously* To be exact, your highness, we…

·Luna: PLEASE SPEAK UP, DONATHAN FINCH.

·Finch: I… my colleagues and I have come in the name of the United Nations. It is an alliance of most human nations. We have come to achieve good relations between our two cultures, and to discuss themes for our mutual gain. *he holds his breath as he awaits her reaction*

·Luna: *is a bit quizzical about Finch’s apparently shy nature* PLEASE, DONATHAN FINCH. WE HAVE WELCOMED THOU AND THY COMPANIONS IN OUR REALM AS GUESTS OF PEACE AND HONOR. AS THOU MAY BE AWARE, THE TIMES OF ILL-DISPOSED RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN BOTH OUR WORLDS HATH PASSED A (HOPEFULLY) LONG TIME AGO. THY COMPANY HATH NOTHING TO FEAR!

·Finch: *still intimidated at being shouted down like that, but he still identifies what she says; he doesn’t know of any ‘ill-disposed’ relations, but carries on* Thank you, Your Highness. We appreciate your country’s stance very much.

·Luna: VERY WELL. SHALL THOU AND US RELOCATE TO CANTERLOT; OUR ROYAL RESIDENCE?

·Finch: *a tad relieved* As Your Highness wishes.

·Luna: *noticing Laukkinen and his camera in the background* SHALL HE COME WITH US, TOO?

·Finch: *turns around, nervously waving to Laukkinen and quickly hssing* Come here! *then turning back to Luna* Yes, he is part of the diplomatic group. He will record the results and document the entire visit.

·Luna: SO BE IT. PLEASE FOLLOW ME TO MY CHARIOT. THOU ART ALLOWED TO TRAVEL WITH US. FLYING TO CANTERLOT WILL BE FASTER.

·Finch: *beat* Ffflying,..? Your Highness

·Luna: OF COURSE. WE SHANT WANT TO ABANDON THOU ON THE GROUND.

·Finch: With… that chariot?

·Luna: CERTAINLY. IT HAS BEEN IN ROYAL USE FOR CENTURIES.

(Finch, Matuszek, Hartfield and Laukkinen gulp. None of them had the intention to fly. Especially not on a chariot, no matter how glidable. Finch was simply scared by the fact that a chariot could fly. Matuszek was afraid of heights. Hartfield was a claustrophobiac, and the thought of sharing a gliding chariot with three other people and a horse was just scarring. Laukkinen was afraid that he had to leave his equipment behind. After a series of unhappy glances towards each other, Finch steps forward and nervously says)

·Finch: With all… condolences, Your Highness. We do not wish to strain your means of transportation like that. Hundreds of years are certainly a valiant effort, but we are not used to… *halts, smiles and waits for her reaction*

·Luna: *awkwardly disgruntled* SO BE IT, DONATHAN FINCH. WE SHALL EXPECT THY COMPANY AT CANTERLOT WITHIN THE DAY.

·Finch: *nods with relief* Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness.

·Luna: ARE THOU SURE? ARE THY CHAPERONS UP TO THE TASK?

·Finch: *nodding to Levin* Of course, your highness. They are experted security agents…

·Luna: THEN, GOOD FORTUNE AT THY SAUNDER, OUR DEAR LEGATES.

(As Finch, Matuszek, Hartfield and Laukkinen bow to her once more, she steps back on her chariot, hailing one last time to the attendees and her subjects. Then she gives the signal, upon which the Guard Pegasi start to speed again, lifting the chariot high into the sky like a Harrier Jet. Then, it speeds off towards the clouds. It was as insane as it was majestic. Eyes wide open, Finch turns to Mrs. Matuszek)

·Finch: *silently* Bloody Hell, not even ten horses could have gotten me on that goddamn contraption!

·Matuszek: *slowly shakes head in disbelief* Me neither… Die Kiste hatte nicht mal irgendwelche Flügel…

·Hartman: *speechless* …What she said.

·Laukkinen: *his tripod still over his shoulder* I guess that I will get enough possibilities to take pictures of that later on…

·Finch: *tries to snap out of it* Do that. *turns to his group* We will just use the conventional way for now, Ladies and Gentlemen. *turns to Twilight* Ms Sparkle, how far is it to the residence?

·Twilight: You mean Canterlot? *thinks shortly* It is that way, about five miles down the path…

·Hartfield: Five miles? Christ, more walking…

·Finch: Pay the price, Hartfield. No backup convoys now. No herded streets, no road blocks…

·Levin: And how about them? *points at all the ponies still standing and watching in awe*

·Hartfield: Well, we have to get through somehow.

(Levin unpacks her security vest and puts it on. She then unpacks a small, portable megaphone ad attaches it to her radio. The agents clear the way as the diplomats cross the sea of longing ponies. Finch tries to get through quickly, while Matuszek shakes several of the hoovs that are stretched up to her by the ponies)

·Levin: *to the crowd* Please make way. Make an alleyway.

(They all pass through the talking and babbling crowd, and are merely followed by a handful of ponies. Finch look straight forward, on the path before him. Dr. Matuszek, who has gradually enough of his supposed ignorance of the miracles of Equestria, confronts him)

·Matuszek: *accusingly yet sarcastic* It may not interest you that much, Mr. Finch, but do you…

·Finch: *cuts her sentence short with a rather unaccustomed force*
I know what you want to say, Dr. Matuszek. I have seen you speaking with Laukkinen (good riddance to him!).
But I am currently trying hard to put my position on the first place. And by God, you do not believe how difficult it is for me at the moment to concentrate! I don’t have your advantage of inciting my natural curiosity into my profession, Ms Matuszek. I tried to, but it simply never worked out. You believe that I am oblivious to all those magnificent, intriguing sights? Not, in, the, slightest! It is very difficult for me to ignore this, in order to set my priotities straight. *suddenly back to his smug deadpan, when Levin appears behind him, bearing his security vest, which he promptly puts on* Now, if you excuse me, Ms. Matuszek, there still is business to attend to. If you wish to talk, we shall find a better time.

·Matuszek: *astounded at his actual lack of ignorance; remotely glad* We will find a better time, then.

(Concluding Music Cue)

10. The Farmer's Viper

8. Scene – Fluttershy’s Cottage

·Rarity: Be still, or else he may come around.

·Fluttershy: Oh, don’t be like that, Rarity. Look at him, he seemed so poor and helpless…

·Rarity: That ape is twice your size! What makes you think he was helpless?! And apart from that; the only thing “poor” about that one is his sense of fashion!

·Jane: *coming around; tired and numb’* What the…

(Jane wakes up to notice that he is lying on the floor of a cottage house. He first thinks that his whole day was a bad dream, no matter how real it seemed. He then notices that he is lying on the floor. Then, he notices with shock that his leg is still pumping and feels incredibly sensible. He opens hiseyes further, trying to look around. At first, he barely notices Fluttershy and Rarity standing a few feet away from his head, surveying his grimaces with interest. But then he turns his head towards them)

·Jane: *stares at them with widened eyes. The sense of jolt forbids him to speak*

·Fluttershy: *a bit unsure now* Oh oh. Looks like he is waking up now.

·Jane: *without further adoo, he tries to get up, but falls back to his knees, writhing in pain*

·Fluttershy: *in her natural conversing voice when talking to animals* P-please don’t be afraid… We just want to help you…

·Jane: *he attempts to crawl away from both of them, and gets to a nearby wall. He turns around and reaches for his holster; then he notices that his gun has been stuck back into it. He stares at them awkwardly*

·Rarity: Oh, great. What is he trying to do now?

·Jane: *weighing the situation* Segreant David Eyre, Royal Australian Air Force. Who… are you?

·Rarity: *appaled* It can speak?!

·Fluttershy: *smiles mildly* Yes, I told you I heard him shouting for help.

·Jane: *impatiently* Who are you?! Where am I?

·Fluttershy: Pssssssh… don’t be afraid, you’re just hurt.

·Jane: *takes a look at his throbbing knee; It has been neatly bandaged* I… I know. *he is confused. Creatures like that have attacked the Chinook earlier* Where are Flying Officer Kinsman and Flight Sergeant Mallard? Are they narby?

·Rarity: Who? Talk sense, will you?

·Jane: My superiors, they came down with me… did they survive it?

·Rarity: Survive what? What in all of Equestria are you talking about? You just… kind of dropped out of the sky, Fluttershy said.

·Jane: Yes, I know… *recollecting nervously* my helicopter crashed. I made it to the ground, my parachute got stuck. I jumped, and broke my leg. Then… *he stops* I don’t remember.

·Rarity: Well, you got frozen by a cockatrice for one. Fluttershy had to save you!

·Fluttershy: *modestly* Oh, it was nothing. I didn’t really save…

·Rarity: Yes, you did! You sent that monster on your way by just clapping your hooves!

·Jane: What is that monster? What monster? *glares at them* And what are you? Why do you speak English?!

·Rarity: *imitating* ‘What what what?!’ Just listen to yourself, overcooking with ignorance! *rapidly listing* We are ponies. We are just outside of Ponyville. This *acknowledges Fluttershy* is Fluttershy, friend to all living things and my modelling compeer, and I am the marvelous fashionista Rarity (you should have heard of me). Does that answer your questions?

·Jane: *confused and nervous* Yes… no… *looks around* You don’t have a telephone around here, do you?

·Fluttershy: Maybe… I am so sorry, but I don’t really know what it is. Should I bring you to a real doctor instead?

·Jane: No… no. Not necessary.
*he tries to stand; it is very painful; he then jumps into action nevertheless, taking out his gun, looking around the room*
My helicopter has been attacked by horses with wings. *acknowledges Fluttershy’s wings* Similar to your’s there. But they had armour. They may come back looking for me. No need in jeopardising you, too...

·Rarity: *appalled with realisation* You put up a fight with the Royal Guard?!

·Fluttershy: *very afraid now* Oh my…

·Jane: What? Royal Guard? *shrugs it off* Whomever. We were attacked. And now, I would have orders to avoid capture. My little own Mrkonjić Grad… my weekend is complete now.

·Fluttershy: Please… we do not want trouble…

·Rarity: *protective* Get out of my friend’s house, criminal scum!

·Jane: What? Why?

·Rarity: You should know why! Running from the guards, eh? Not when we are around, fugitive! What ever dungeon you crawled forth from, you better get crawling back!

(Rarity quickly uses her horn to levitate one of the chairs up in a menacing manner as Fluttershy gets behind her in panic. Scared by the floating chair and Rarity’s strange powers, as well as the fact that both are on “their” side, Jane points his gun on both of them: He knows he should have been more reserved with these strange civilians)

·Jane: Whoah! *keeping both at gunpoint as he tries to espy the exit alongside the wall he leans against* No step further, you two!

·Rarity: *unaware of ‘firearms’* You better put that bludgeon of yours away, you oversized, ill-tasted monkey! Threatening us in our own homes, now? You better get out!

·Jane: *having noticed the door, and dragging himself alongside the wall* No problem, you two just stay riiight there! Or I’ll shoot!

·Rarity: *completely enraged* Out, I said! *thrusts the levitating chair into his direction. It crashes before his feet* Take that, scoundrel!

(Jane jumps up in shock at the flying furniture; he quickly aims and fires over both ponies’ heads. The burst is loud, sudden and unforgiving, especially inside such a small confined space as Fluttershy’s cottage. She gives a shriek of alarm as she covers her head with her hooves. Also Rarity flinches forcefully to the ground at the unforgiving crack and the buzzing sensation above her head. Even Jane reacts with retraction and safeguard s his face with his free hand as he creeps on alongside the wall. He is very nervous about that ‘Rarity’ creature)

·Jane: You just stay where you bloody well are!

·Fluttershy: *to Rarity; scared to tears* Make him stop! Please. Let him go…

(Meanwhile, Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Octavia walk alongside the Everfree Forest Range towards Fluttershy’s Cottage. They know that Rarity was also there, trying on a few new outfits with her. They want to call them both over. Perhaps, they think, they might make use of the bracelets of Harmony later on. Then, they hear the shot)

·Applejack: Wut in tarnation?!

·Pinkie: Whoa, Fluttershy is doing fireworks? Rarity must have a bombastic new look!

·Applejack: Pinkie, plees concentrate. You know how … shy Fluttershy is. She won’t ever burn faherwurks!

·Octavia: Maybe there is something wrong. It came from inside the house. Should we maybe call fireponies?

·Applejack: Let’s look furst.

(The advance upon the remote cottage. It seems very lifeless; most of Fluttershy’s pets have fled or are hiding due to the boom. Just as they consider going around the house rather than through the front entrance, Jane storms out, dodging a flying stool on his way out. He does not immediately notice Applejack, Octavia and Pinkie behind him)

·Jane: *gawking at the stranded stool* Bloody hell! Stop it!

·Applejack: *gruffly* Hey! You! Wut are you doin’ here?

·Jane: *freezing in shock* Who?

·Rarity: *peeping through the entranceway, shouting to Applejack* He put up a fight and is now running from Royal Guards! Do something!

·Fluttershy: *peeping through behind Rarity, adding* Ruuuun!

·Jane: *regaining his instincts, totes with his gun at both parties* Stay away, you!

·Applejack: *furious* Ah knew dem ‘umans were up to somethin’! First ringin’ at de gate, then kicking doun de back door! *charges Jane head-on* You! Stuhp!

·Jane: Stay away! *fires his gun at Applejack while skipping towards the forest range*

·Octavia: *finding cover behind the great oak in the front garden with Pinkie; to Applejack* Run away, Applejack! Come back!

·Applejack: *gets her hat shot off by the stray bullet; she instantly reaches for her head* Wut de…?! Don’cha ‘urt mah hat , mister!

·Pinke: *being Pinkie Pie* Aaaaaw… those weren’t fireworks after all.

·Applejack: Pinke! Quick, help me catchin’ ‘im. Ah donno find mah lasso!

·Pinkie: *motivated* Oh… Okey Dokey Lokey! *jumps and sprints forward*

·Jane: *reaches a tree and leans against it exahaustedly; he reaches for his walkie talkie another time* Hello! Locon! Flogg Off! Gale! Gale! Respond, damnit! The bird goes to the market! The bird goes to the market! Eight Five!

·Pinkie: *with her head popping up mere centimetres behind Jane* Hey, mister! Who are you talkin’ to? Can I join in?

·Jane: *swings around and pulls the trigger reflexively, but fortunately it turns he had already wasted his clip*

·Pinkie: *giggling, the empty gun only centimetres from her mussle* Whoah, easy there, mister. You could hurt somebody with that thingy!

·Jane: *taking root in her words* No problem! *he skillfully rotates the weapon by it’s grip and quickly decks her with its bottom on her forehead*

·Pinkie: *growing cross-eyed* Those rainbowcakes are spicy… cupcakes… *she slumps down unconciously on the floor*

·Applejack: Pinkie! Nooo!

·Fluttershy: *prepares to fly to Pinkie, with a voice nearly hoarse of worrying* I’m coming, Pinkie!

·Jane: *quickly reaching for the next magazine, he struggles finding it quickly* Let’s see who is… faster! *with trembling hands, he inserts the next clip; he looks around, and sees Applejack furiously growling at him from a distance, who now knows that she she should keep her distance from the gun* I told you to stay back! I will not kill any civilians!

(He quickly holsters his gun and keeps moving, deeper into the forst. Fluttershy instantly flies Pinkie, and turns her on her back)

·Fluttershy: Oh no. Pinkie, please say something! *Pinkie remains absent, and Fluttershy massages her forehead* Dearie me, that ruffian must have hit her very hard.

(Applejack and Rarity rush to the scene to aid Fluttershy. Octavia follows them worriedly. She is silently panicking)

·Applejack: Quick, we must’ brignin’ ‘er into yer house, Fluddershy!

·Rarity: Yes, I wil help to carry her. *painfully* That criminal scum! What did she ever do to him?

·Octavia: *buries her head in her unconcious sister’s neck, holding back tears* No, Pinkie, no. You will be alright, you can struggle through this!

·Applejack: *holding Octavia back softly* Don’t wurry, Octavia. She ‘ad been thru worse.

·Rarity: *helping Fluttershy holding Pinkie up by levitation* Stay back, everyone. Give us room.

(Fluttershy and Rarity, slowly carry Pinkie back to the cottage. Applejack follows them, comforting a silent Octavia with a determine voice)

·Rarity: *curiously trying to calm nervous Octavia* So… do you and Pinkie know each other?

·Octavia: *not wishing to talk* Yes. We are sisters.

·Rarity: Oh, really? I didn’t know she has a sister.

·Octavia: We are very different.

·Rarity: I see. Ah, well, my name is Rarity, by the way. I am a good friend of Pinkie Pie. And this *acknowledges Fluttershy, who keeps silent* is Fluttershy, she lives here. She is a bit… silent today, forgive her.

·Octavia: Yes, I know you. You both were at the most recent Grand Galloping Gala too, weren’t you? You caught that apple pie and you released the animals into the ballroom.

·Rarity: *a bit annoyed* Yes, ‘catching’ is putting it rather mildly.

·Applejack: *talking to herself* Ah knew dem ‘umans had some kahnd’a scheme prepared. *to Octavia* Don’t be sad, Octavia. We’ll show them wut we ‘defensless’ ponies are made of.

·Octavia: *resisting* No please. I… I don’t want any fighting! I want to stay out of this!

·Applejack: Even after dey swadded yer own sister?

·Octavia: Yes! *faint voice* I know it seems heartless, but I wouldn’t bear arms against them. I would stay with Pinkie Pie. She needs me… and… we… haven’t seen for such a long time…

·Applejack: Lissun… Ah know yer not used to any of dis. But we need as maneh ponies ready for dem ‘umans as pussible! Dey try to take over Equestria. To pud uhs all in chains an’ make us work all day! Dat’s wut they tried to make wid Great Grandpa and Great Grandma. They sent ‘em fancy guys to distract de princesses, and then sent armed grunts to attack us!

·Rarity: That monster said that he was a soldier. And that he put up a fight with Princess Celestia’s guards and was now running from them. It makes perfect sense. They may be many more out there!

·Octavia: *with a concerned voice* But where? Where did they come from in the first place? We don’t know anything about that man! But the diplomats, the said they were only interested in peace.

·Applejack: *sarcastically* Oh, did dey say that? How do ya know dey weren’t lyin’?

·Octavia: *sadly* Then how do you know they were?

·Applejack: Bah Celestia, Octayvia: Ah joost knew it! I saw it in deir faces- Deir politeness, deir smugness, deir interest! It seem’d so unnatural. Dey simply had more in mind.

·Octavia: Or was it just all those ponytales you have been told?

·Applejack: *protestingly* Ponytales dat turn’d outta be true!

·Octavia: *thinks* Then why can’t we just warn Princess Celestia? She would believe you, I am sure. You are the bearer of the force of truth.

·Applejack: Bu dere’s a difference between believin’ and thinkin’ crazy, Octavia. She may believe it was just ponytales!

·Octavia: But… but what about Nightmare Moon. It was only a ponytale, too. And it came true, especially for Celestia.

·Applejack: But onleh because Nightmare Moon was Princess Luna, Celestia’s own sis, and Celestia ‘erself banished ‘er. But here, we’re nuht even sure she ever saw em ‘umans before.

·Octavia: *appeasingly to Applejack, but determined* Then I will tell her, before the humans can talk to her. I will gallop to Canterlot, on my own if I have to…

·Applejack: *blocks her way* It’s too dangerous t’be alone out there, Octavia. Stay wid us, we’ll go as a group!

·Octavia: *steps out of Applejack’s way* Leave me, Applejack. I will do it for Pinkie! No more harm!

·Applejack: *seemingly giving up, coming back to accompany Pinkie* It’s never dat easeh, unfortunately… *reaches the door and holds it open for Fluttershy and Rarity* Bring ‘er in.
(They lay Pinkie on the living room’s carpet. She is slowly regaining her senses, and moves her head around distress.)

·Fluttershy: *to the others* She is coming around. Oh, thank goodness. *to Pinkie* Pinkie, don’t worry, you are safe now.

·Pinkie: *mumbling* Safe… from cupcakes?

·Fluttershy: *beat* Of course. Now keep still until you feel better, aou have been hurt very much.

·Pinkie: Crazy, huh?

·Fluttershy: You have been hit on the forehead by that… human.

·Pinkie: How much of me did he gobble up?

·Fluttershy: Ehm, oh fortunately, he gobbled up nothing of you at all. *lays a wet blanket on her head* Now, I really hope that this is going to help. Your sister can maybe bring you home afterwards, if it is okay with you…

·Pinkie: Aaaaw no, the fun part just started.

·Fluttershy: *uncertain* Oh, then you can stay here… although I personally would not call being hit on the head “fun”.

·Rarity: Don’t worry, Fluttershy, she is still a bit out of her senses. We may have to bring her to a real doctor, though. She is a pony, after all, and not just a critter.

·Applejack: Agreed. We have to go extra-super-safe in ’er health. Octavia here can stay with ‘er there… *turns around for Octavia* Octavia? *she is not there anymore*

·Rarity: Where is Octavia? Wasn’t she standing there just a minute ago?

·Applejack: Oh… no! *storms out of the cottage* She di’nt even come in! She headed for strait’ for Canterlot! *she halts behind the door, skimming the garden*

·Rarity: *peeps outside* Oh no! You must stop her, Applejack. It could be dangerous.

·Applejack: Ah, ts’no use! Now, she’s in fact priddy headstrong. She ain’t as intimidated now…

·Rarity: Then we will better move out as quickly as possible. For Octavia, and for Equestria!

·Applejack: Agreed!

(Concluding Music Cue)

11. Thus Spake Celestia

10. Scene – Cloudsdale Guardhouse

(Princess Celestia kept her promise. She personally visits the extraordinary prisoners in one of her crowning cities. She has been warned what powerful weapons they have, namely the helicopter. She has established that she would try to encounter the prisoners unyieldingly and with stiffness, to show them that, while being lighter armed, it was still her empire they were in. They could serve a very powerful foe, notorious enough to attack Cloudsdale, of all cities. The ancient guard captain meets her as she lands on her chariot and flies the last few dozen metres to the guardshouse)

·Captain: *bows head* Your Highness, the prisoners are already awaitig you.

·Celestia: *surprised by the prisoners’ forestalling* Oh, are they? What have they said?

·Captain: They said they are humans, and wish to talk to “superior officer”. They probably meant someone like me, but I didn’t want to talk to them.

·Celestia: Are they behaving revoltingly?

·Captain: Not exactly. But they are quite impudent for someone who had just been incarcerated. They probably think a lot of themselves.

·Celestia: I will have to take them roughly, won’t I? Where did they come from?

·Captain: That would be favourable, Your Highness. But from what I overheard, they came from a place called “Austria”. It seems to be not too far away.

·Celestia: *thinking* Hmmm, Austria, they say? Have they ever mentioned the words “Roman” or “Empire” as well?

·Captain: No, actually, nothing I would know of. *halts* Your highness, do you know that place they talked about?

·Celestia: *strangely evasive* Yes, Captain. I even remember some of their tongue. But it has been a long time, too. It were different times then. I hope that humans have changed since then.

·Captain: So you have indeed dealt with humans before, Your Highness? Were they dastardly then?

·Celestia: Yes, Captain. As I said, those were different times.

·Captain: Of course, Your Highness.

(Both land at the porch of the guardhouse with their heads held high. Rainbow, Derpy, and the two Guard-Pegasi, being happy about her arrival, make a big bow. Derpy nearly crushes her head through the cloud floor when trying to keep a look up at Celestia. She smiles and nods respectfully. Kinsman and Locon look at her speechlessly, unable to keep their eyes from her strange mane and giant wings. Rainbow starts eagerly)

·Rainbow: Welcome to Cloudsdale, Princess Celestia. It’s great that you’re here. I was getting finished with those two thugs…

·Celestia: Thank you, Rainbow. I have heard that you have done great deeds today.

·Rainbow: *modestly* Well yeah, that is maybe kinda true…

·Derpy: *motorising her mouth* Oh yeah, it’s totally true your majesty! You should have seen that hurricane! It was big and round and gray, and Rainbow was like totally going around at super speed…

·Locon: *nudges Kisnman and hisses* I think *points at the proud Rainbow* that moll over there caused that bloody hurricane!

·Kinsman: Shut it, Mallard!

·Celestia: *smiles acknowledgingly* Why, of course, Derpy Doo. You have certainly witnessed something magnificent.

(Then, she turns to the two airmen, recollecting her knowledge of the old ‘tongue’. Kinsman and Locon listen in suspense)

·Celestia: Ich bin Zelestia, eine Prinzessin des equestrischen Reichs. Sprecht, ihr Landsknecht. Wer befehlet euch? In welcher Absicht ward ihr in diese Ländereien gekommen?

·Kinsman: *who speaks not a single word German* We…

·Celestia: *persistent* Antwortet mir, oder ihr werdet eure übrigen Tage in Ketten verbringen. Die Schändung Wolkenthals bleibt gewiß nicht ungestraft.

·Rainbow: *whispering in Celestia’s ear* Princess Celestia, uh, I think they understand our language as well.

·Celestia: *thankfully* So they do? Thank you Rainbow. *back to the airmen* So, you speak my language?

·Kinsman: *quickly and clearly* Yes… *thinks of a way to address her* M’am.

·Celestia: *gruff* What do you have to say for yourselves?

·Locon: Nothing,… marm. *gets kicked by Kinsman*

·Kinsman: *standing up* Your majesty, this whole affair was… a tragic messup.

·Celestia: What do you mean with “messup”. Speak clearly, it may be your only chance.

·Kinsman: *nervously* We were not at fault…

·Celestia: *skeptically* You weren’t?

·Kinsman: *continuing* …and neither were your men… Pegasi. They were only doing their duty…

·Celestia: Which is to protect the cities and towns of Equestria against all dangers. *sternly* I ask you again, why were you a danger?

·Kinsman: We were acting under orders of our superiors to fulfill a… transport assignment. Forgive us, but this information is classified.

·Celestia: What happened above Cloudsdale? I was told that you decided to fight against guards.

·Kinsman: We were not fighting, we were definding our aircraft.

·Celestia: What ‘aircraft’? What do you mean?

·Kinsman: Our Chinook 47, which is a helicopter. It is a machine that allows us to fly.

·Celestia: So it seems. What else do you use the machine for?

·Kinsman: *bites his lip* As a military purpose vehicle… it is used for transport persons and equimpent…

·Celestia: And fighting?

·Kinsman: It… it has weapons on board, yes. But… we did not use them… seeing that we had little knowledge on how to fight… Pegasi.

·Celestia: Then why did you try to do so? What have Pegasi ever done to you? And how come to have the audacity to do it near one of our cities?

·Kinsman: *desperately, avoiding eye contact* We had no intention to fight, we were trying to scare them away. We used flares, not rockets! We had to eject the aircraft and got stranded on the roofs of this… town! We were unaware that we would encounter this place in the first place, it was only a stroke of bad navigational luck…

·Celestia: *turning to Rainbow and the Captain* Is this true?

·Captain: Mostly. But about their intentions, I don’t know. What should we do with them, Your Highness?

·Celestia: *thinks* Well, it looks rather grim for your prisoners if we cannot deduce what really happened today. *she closes her eyes* But I am trying to be fair, so I will doubt the humans no more than your Pegasi’s reports. *she opens her eyes and inhales* Still, you should them them here until we are certain. If they actually came here with fiendish intentions, it would of course be best to keep them. But from my own experience, we cannot rely on the humans saying the complete truth…

·Locon: *having enough of the ambiguous situation; he snaps, completely out of desperation* Bollocks! I don’t believe it… *hysterically, to Celestia* Listen, I don’t know who or what you are, what you do or what you believe, but I only know we are not at fault! We don’t know what else to tell you! We are being held here without rhyme, without reason, and you even have the audacity to present servicemen as criminals or wild animals or some crap like that?!
Do you even know you you deal with? This the Royal Australian Air Force, one of the best fighting forces in the world! Do you really think we won’t be missed? Do you really think they would let us sit here until kingdom come?! No, they’ll come for us, and then they’ll come for you! Give ‘em 10 hours, and they will locate this little LSD nightmare and they will find us! Then, they will take care of anyone who does not respect the customs of war!
So why don’t you just let us go, and make it easier for yourself and your colony and your bunch of savage grunts. You have no right to keep us, and you know it! We will make short work of your pathet…

·Celestia: *in an exceptionally tempramental, loud and authoritative tone* SILENCE!

(Everyone in the room takes a shocked step back; never had they seen Celestia this disgruntled. Also, she had never been talked to in such a way. Her stare says that it is personal, though nobody knows in what way)

·Celestia: *she approaches the marble floor, keeping a deadly gaze on Locon* I have tried to be reasonable. I have tried to talk sense. I have tried to judge fairly. I was foolish enough to believe that humans have changed! That they are not the same, hoarding thieves and conquerors anymore. I thought 1271 or 1513 would have taught me a lesson! Make myself prepare for your nature.
But now I see that nothing has changed. You are back to your old, lying ways, deceiving and garnering wherever you go, keeping secrets from benevolents and then stabbing in the back. And when you fail, then you immediately rely on the courtesy and gullibility of others, only to await the right moment and stab them again. Claiming to obey their own laws… customs of war, and expect the others to to the same.
You insult me, with both your pathetic expectations of ponies and Pegasi alike and your forlorn confidence on brute force, as you just demonstrated yourself. Air Force, indeed. It has taken you another six hundred years for a new in-run, but this time I shall say, no more! I will personally put your ravaging rabble to an end, for the sake of the innocents you have on your consciences.
*she closes her eyes, and slowly pants out her adrenaline and anger; she turns to the perplexed Captain and Rainbow* Captain, please summon your best Pegasi and let them come to Canterlot Castle. Rainbow Dash, please accompany me right away, you might be needed afterwards as well. Oh, and Captain; I wish that the prisoners are to be kept here until further notice. They are not to be released anywhere outside.

·Captain: *uneasily* Yes, Your Highness…

·Rainbow *perpelexedly* Sure, Princess Celestia…

(They mutely dart confused glances at each other behind Celestia’s back, and then look at Kinsman and Locon. The former sits huddled against the wall, nervously massaging his nasal bone, and the latter rests on his knees, in the same position in which he attempted to confront Celestia. She, on the other hand, slowly trods out of the building. Rainbow looks one last time at the airmen, and then follows her sovereign in a quick gallop. The Captain stays behind, giving his guards concurring looks. Rainbow sees Celestia’s discomfiture, and brings up the courage to ask her)

·Rainbow: Princess Celestia, please… is it okay if I ask you what happened?

·Celestia: *timidly* Rainbow Dash, I salute your concern, but that will have to wait. I hope you understand.

·Rainbow: *pulls out quickly* Yes, Princess.

(Suddenly, another Guard lands on the porch outside the Guardhouse. He is quick to address Celestia)

·Guard: Your Highness, I brought a message from Princess Luna.

·Celestia: Really. What does she say?

·Guard: Princess Luna passes word that a group of legates from a far away country wish to speak to you and her. They say it is of critical importance.

(Kinsman overhears the little talk from inside the cell. He perplexes at the mentioning of “legates”)

·Kinsman: *to Locon* “Legates”?

·Locon: *confusedly* What?

·Celestia: *to the guard* Tell Princess Luna that I am on my way, but that the emissaries may have to wait in favor of a much more urgent matter.

·Guard: Yes, Your Highness! *he quickly pulls into the air and flies off*

·Kinsman: *stands up slowly* “Legates”? *adds one and one together; reacts with shock* Legates? Oh, no. Finch, Hartfield, no… No. No. No!

(He storms to the outmost corner of his cell, careful not to tread over the edge. Alertedly, the Guard Pegasi swing around to drive him back. Only now has he realised that those “legates” are the same he and his crew had transported here earlier. He tries to shout to Celestia, to warn her)

·Kinsman: Ma’am, no! Wait! Please! Those legates! Those legates are ours! The-

·Guard: *ramming Kinsman in the stomach* Silence! Be quiet!

·Kinsman: *straightening up again* Your Highness! Your Highness! Listen to me! Finch! Donathan Finch! Lucas Hartfield! Donathan Finch and Lucas Hartfield! They are the dip-

·Guard: *together with his comrade, they restrain him to the marble ground* Quiet, I said! Shut it!

·Kinsman: *keeping to shout* No! This is important! This is vital! They are ours! They came to talk! They came for you! Your Highness!

(At the Guardhouse’s exit, Rainbow tries to point out Kinsman’s persistence)

·Rainbow: Princess Celestia, the human wants to say something. He says its important.

·Celestia: *re-assuming her stern stance* No, it wasn’t. If it were, he would have said so earlier. It is too late, now. Come with me, Rainbow Dash.

·Rainbow: But Princess…

·Celestia: No. Now come to the chariot.

(Celestia and Rainbow climb onto the Chariot again. Kinsman, on the other hand, gets shoved back into the walled corner of his cell. He is panting from nervousness, and can only watch the Princess taking off behind his two guards’ heads. He looks over to Locon, who holds his head in the same terrible realisation)

·Kinsman: *slowly, through his teeth* You… bogan bastard! *he lunges at Locon and punches him across the jaw* You killed us all!

(Before Kinsman can deck him a second time, a Guard knocks him down with his armoured hooves from behind, causing to drop flat on the floor. Locon catatonically fingers his own wounded mouth, but dares not to react in any way. He knew that the droppings had hit the fan, and that it was all his fault)

(Concluding Music Cue)

13. Difficult Inheritance

13. – Canterlot Castle

(The delegation is closing in, emerging from a nearby forest, and this allows them to look at Canterlot’s tremendous architectural scenery in awe. Never has anyone of them seen such daring, impossible, risking architecture. The delegates think one of their conclusions to be conformed; this civilisation may as well be technologically superior to the contemporary human one)

·Finch: *to Hartfield, but in a volume so Matuszek can listen in too* Look at that. Those are, what, 450 feet vertically up!

·Hartfield: Hell. I’ never thought one could build that height using merely stone. You’d need steel frames… and main weight-carrying points, wide supports, high rise cranes and God knows what other supplements. Just think at how long it must have taken to build it in the first place…

·Matuszek: This is unbelievable. They have the technology to do it, alright. It cannot be made by humans. We had this technology since, I don’t know, forty years. If it were that unsupported height alone, it may be still understandable; just look at the Minster of Ulm. But this… this is not built like a cathedral tower. And it is built on a mountain. That’s something we have the hardest time to do ourselves.

·Finch: Look at the way it is halfway constructed over the cliff behind there! Those must be a half a million tons backed only by those few manmade support arcs. And it’s not even manmade, per se. And so is much of the other technology.
Do you remember that flying chariot, Hartfield? Such a small yet so powerful aviational turbine has yet to be constructed in our world. The same goes for the letter; I am not sure, but it seems that that dragon has sent his letter by… by spurting a flame to motor a small pipe post system out the window to that residence.
That is the only possible explanation.

·Hartfield: Didn’t that little sucker burp out the reply? *he reaches for his medicine*

·Finch: So, what are you saying Hartfield? *thinks it over* That they maybe have developed small, portable fax machines? That they carry them on the interior of their digestive tract? *raises his eyebrows* That’s simply tacky.

·Hartfield: *shrugs at his theories* You’re outta line, Finch. *drowns his pills and puts them away again*

·´Finch: *skeptically* I believe that you are the one ‘outta line’ here. What exactly is that stuff you keep drowning?

·Hartfield: Meds. Against heartburn and high blood pressure. I have something strange there at high nervousness levels.

·Finch: Ah well. Never mind. Back to the castle: Have you ever seen anything from the medieval ages that is shaped like that?

·Hartfield: Nah.

·Matuszek: *to Twilight, who is close by* What can you tell us about that residence?

·Twilight: Well, it was constructed nigh exactly 600 years ago. I think there should be a jubilee feast coming up very soon, too…

·Hartfield: 600 years? What, uh, years are we talking about here?

·Twilight: *confusedly* Well, years years, I guess.

·Matuszek: I believe Mr. Hartfield meant how many days one year has here.

·Twilight: 150 days exactly. It is a very old calendar system, developed in Canterlot too, I believe.

·Finch: Only 150 days? Fascinating. And how long is a day of yours?

·Twilight: *grinning a bit strangely at his obvious question* Well, one day and one night exactly. It starts over each midnight.

·Hartfield: And how do you define midnight?

·Matuszek: *frowning at Hatfield and Finch* Okay, I think that’s enough, gentlemen. *to Twilight* It is just, that in our world, we do not have such architecture. But I would say that it is clearly paralleled with human European building. It, too is some 500 to 1000 years old.

·Twilight: *nods in agreement* This makes perfect sense. I once read in the Canterlot Town Archive Records, that the construction of Canterlot, taking full eight years, was issued and directed by “many a species’ prodigies”. It never named the species exactly. I always suspected buffaloes and mules, or something alike. Perhaps even dragons. But humans were still ponytale creatures for me.

·Matuszek: *thinking for a second* Do you know what this means?

·Twilight: What?

·Matuszek: That humanity has done enough impact on this society beforehand. As in the architecture. If you look at the various houses back in the town, they appear to be quite distinctively similar with various forms of historical human architecture.

·Finch: That, Dr Matuszek, has be prevalent in many forms I have seen here. Many of the objects I have seen here seem… so strangely out of place. There would be the carriages, there would be the quill and parchment, there would be the books… I mean, why does a pony do with books? How do equines use or even hold books?

·Twilight: Ah, I see what you mean. We normally use levitation for such tasks. As well as the mouth. And sometimes, when the objects are just flat enough, we balance them on our heads and even with our hooves.

·Hartfield: Levitation? That is… uh… interesting. In our society, we would usually call levitation… humbug. *quickly raises his hand before somebody gets the chance to berate him* But I am surprised by nothing anymore now, just hear me out. Well, it just is weird that one has to rely on… levitation to do even the most mundane of tasks at times. In my opinion, this… world is imbedded in this society like… well… like a hoof in a glove. Literally.

·Twilight: *smiles at the strangely fitting simile* Well, we do produce hoof gloves, but that is unimportant. Yes, it is rather strange for myself too, now that I think about it. I myself have grown up in this society, and it has always been that way to me. I guess Equestrians adapted much of the knowledge from beyond our borders and… simply decided to stick without much change, as long as it didn’t cause any serious problems.

·Laukkinen: *moving up to them; he had been standing further down the path and made geographic pictures of the castle* Too, as I have mentioned before, the language is strange. It is full English. Full, correct English. I understand all you, Ms. Twilight, are saying to us. It does, however, sound strangely American in pronouncement. How can it be possible?

·Matuszek: Of course, the English! How could we forget that? And it sound so modern, too. Most words are only a hundred years old. *looks at the castle* Then again, Twilight, your regent’s English is again different. I would even say that it is an Elizabethan choice of words.

·Twilight: “Elizabethan”? What does it mean?

·Matuszek: That was an important era of the human world, about 500 years back. And let us not forget the use of Greek and Latin… the names “Luna” and “Celestia”, “levitation” and “medicine”, the helmets of Princess Luna’s Guardsponies…
All in all really, the structure of the entire… civilisation of yours, Ms. Sparkle, is uncannily similar to the real world.

·Laukkinen: Yes. *gets out his DVR* As you mentioned, you have a state system. Not tribal, but actually Eurasian. You have libraries and records, which already comes from the Sumerans, Babylonians, Greeks and Romans. That seems, that your world had contact with ours already 6000 - 2000 years back, at least. Then 1000 years, 700 years, and, as we found out right now, also 500 years and 100 years. What does it mean?

·Matuszek: Yes, exactly. How could our worlds share and actively exchange this information in such as way that none of them were even aware of each others’ existence?

·Finch: *quickly reciting Luna’s words in his head* “Asthoumaybeawarethetimesofilldisposedrelationshipsbetween bothourworldshathpassedahopefullylongtimeago… thycompanyhathnothingtofear”…
So could this be what she meant? What did she mean with those words, Ms. Sparkle?

·Twilight: You know, I cannot actually answer this question. Quite surprisingly, I could have never considered too much what could be outside of Equestria.
For me, the world beyond could have just been one square map. Then I would think that that is impossible, as the sun and the moon would be in its way. Then, I would discard this thought completely.
I simply never wondered far enough. And neither did anypony else. *thinks*
Then again, I may not be the right pony to ask. I am sure Princess Celestia and Princess Luna will willingly answer you all of your questions. *smilingly* After all, I am not the one who has lived through the entire history of Equestria.

·Finch: *smiles back, thinking that the ‘living through the entire history of Equestria’ portion was a mere throwaway joke* Yes, yes. Though to be fair, I wouldn’t talk about their Highnesses in such a manner. Her Highness Luna, for instance, seems to be still young.

·Twilight: *misinterpreting him too* Well, they do not usually such signs of age.

·Finch: Aha…

(They come to the majestic hill upon which Canterlot lies. With big steps, they make their way up to the heavy gate, passing fountains and sculptures on the way. One or two gardeners, a maid on leave and a small regiment of guards espy the strange group. Some kneel before the honoured guests, some start to panick and gallop into the opposite direction and some try to get back to work)

·Twilight: *to the guards* I’m sorry. Could you possibly open the gates for our guests? They have an audience with Princess Luna.

·Guard: Of course, Twilight Sparkle. The guests are already awaited.

·Twilight: Oh excellent.

(The heavy three-layer gate is budged open, uncovering the view on Canterlot’s eponymous gate square. The diplomats think they have been led into either Babylon or Moscow, judging by every single ivory tower and colourful Onion-arch towers shooting into the sky.
Solemnly, they pass through the gate made of pure white marble and colour-stained glass plates representing large though artificial windows. On the other side, a parade of guardsmen has rowed up left and right of Princess Luna, who, now standing proud with a passionate smile on her face, in the middle of a market square filled with cheering, onlooking ponies, a little servant holding on to one very special massive book, whom she seems to have brought only for the diplomatic mission.
Finch, Matuszek, Hartfield and also Laukkinen step forward, while the DS agents build an honour guard formation of their own)

·Finch: *under his breath* Twooo, three…

(the four slowly bow and before Luna once more, and she nods her head in acknowledgement)

·Finch: Your Highness.

·Luna: *in a much more moderate tone* Donathan Finch. While thou hast wished to depart manually from the Library, we have taken ourselves the liberty to read the book of thy people once more. It has been kept in the same state as when it was presented to us in thy year of 1271.

(Her servant brings her the hefty book on his back, and then shifts it on the floor before her hooves. It is a thick and heavy book, coated with dark brown leather, and remarkable drawings and in colourings on its cover, which were somewhat reminiscent of old gothic illustrations and shapes. Among the black tying bands that ran across the front diagonally, a visible cross made from white cloth and colourful ceramic rises out of the middle. The servant carefully opens the ancient document for her onto a designated page, skipping very small yet detailed written scriptures, as well as lushly coloured images that covered multiple pages. Twilight is impressed by the beautiful book, but confused; never had she seen it. Never had Celestia shown her that one book )

·Luna: *tapping unto the page* May we recite this passage for thee, as Brother Wiegand did, countless years ago.

·Finch: Certainly, Your Highness.

·Luna: *translating slowly and gracefully*
Now if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in some measure—not to put it too severely—to all of you. For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him.

·Finch: The Bible, Your Highness?

·Luna: Yes, Donathan Finch. It is a very old document that hath been given to us in the name of Reynard d’Elsace, the count of Elsace.

·Matuszek: And he was human?

·Luna: Certainly, milady. He said he was French, and his soldiers had journeyed over the frontiers of Equestria. We were inclined to greet him ourselves. When he percieved our countenance for the first time, he believed to be surrounded by “creatures of the heavens”.
He himself stated that he were engaging in a war, which he referred to as “the holy war”, or “the crusades”. We decided that he would stay with us at Canterlot until futher notice, for he and his companions, thousands of creatures, looked ill and fatigued.
At that time, thou must understand, many of our subjects were quite discomforted by the fact that humans had entered our kingdom, for they had fled oppression and slavery before, and settled here for their own protection. Reynard replied by teaching us his languages, which were Fränkisch and Teutsch, and his faiths, the arts of the spoken and the written word and of the imagery. Furthermore, he taught us the taming of falcons. He gave us his shield, which bears his personal standard.

(Another servant brings a flat, surfboard-sized packet, lays it down and unfolds it, revealing it to be a heraldic shield of a crusader, completely with a blue cross and a dark green coat of arms located in the middle, that contained a red griffon on white cloth, three white birds following a red trail over a yellow background and a red-and-white diamond pattern)

·Luna: That he put such an amount of emphasis on the sharing of knowledge between both our cultures showed that he was an intelligent and well-read commander.
Soon, Reynard and his forces grew better, both physically and mentally, yet strangely protective of our nation. He said that it was his ambition to protect Equestria, of his own enemies, which he called “infidels” and “devil-worshippers”, telling us that they were savage slavers and out to spread the “unholy faith”. My sister and us, quite naturally, decided that this matter, disregarding of his persistence, was not of our personal concern. We were and we still are a nation founded upon the principle of friendship and harmony.
However, he did not listen, and grew more rabid. He began to threaten our sister and us, that if we do not take measures for war, he would assume control.
When we asked him and his troops to leave, he refused. He proceeded to tell his men that they had been betrayed, and that their hosts were traitors of their faith. He ordered the burning of Ponyville, where his army had initially camped.
Celestia personally lead the charge against him, and yet, due to our inferior fighting experience, many ponies were lost on that day. It was tragic. The entire old town of Ponyville burned to the ground, but his own soldiers were scattered and driven back into the desert, overwhelmed by our sister’s abilities.
It was despotic of us, yes, but it was necessary for our ponies.
Until this day, this remembrance haunts us and our sister. Especially our sister, for she had lost many friends and good allies in those decisive days.

·Finch: With respect, Your Highness, I believe that I speak for my nation when I say that I condemn the behaviour of Reynard d’Elsace, as well as his treatment of your authority.

·Luna: We thank thee for thy opinion. We were hoping that a change had come over humans since those times.

·Finch: Indeed, Your Highness. This period has been one of the bloodiest of conflicts in all of human history. Between faith and culture. Of course, today, such an erratic behaviour has been avoided to a minority of fanatics. If I may quote Edmund Burke, a great historian; “History repeats himself because nobody was listening the first time.”

·Luna: Thou hast spoken words of great wisdom, Donathan Finch. One shall never forget his or her history, and neither should one attempt to discard it. However, neither should one let history influence you in judging other situations under completely different premises.

·Matsuzek: *slowly reaching out for the shield* May I take a look at the shield, Your Highness?

·Luna: *putting the away her hoof that was resting on the shield* Naturally.

·Matuszek: *lifting the shield to her and Luna’s head height*

·Twilight: What is it, Doctor?

·Matuszek: This shield definitely is a piece of armour of that time period. From the crusades. Your Highness, what was the year when it happened?

·Luna: 1800 years ago. In your own time, if we remember correctly, it was 740 years ago.

·Matuszek: *making sure* in the year of… 1271?

·Hartfield: Your Highness, did you just say that you were personally present when this happened?

·Luna: Yes, Lucas Hartfield. And so was our sister, Princess Celestia.

·Hartfield: *looking at Matuszek and Finch with a skeptic look* Even though… it has happened exactly 1800 years ago… 740 years ago?

·Finch: Forgive us our dubiety, but how can Your Highness and Her Highness Princess Celestia have witnessed the incident first-hand and still be… living?

(There is a small pause. Prominently Finch and Hartfield eye Luna inquiringly, discretely designating her as a lunatic. Luna looks somewhat confused by their questions, subconsciously asking ‘Well, what answer is there to give?’ until she manages to remind herself that they were merely humans, and may need an additional explanation. Before Twilight, who is standing behind Hartfield and Matuszek can utter ‘I told you so before!’, Luna answers)

·Luna: We are grateful to say that we were blessed, considering our earthly duty, with an exceptionally long span of life, that may as well not be measured with that of any other creature, neither pony, nor… human.

·Hartfield: Your Highness…

·Luna: I understand that you have not heard of anything like it before. It is indeed a very inimitable, but we and our subjects have learned to accept it as a part of our destinies. *she shows the four her cutie mark* It is perhaps part of our very existence, as perceived by powers beyond our cognisance or control. We may have one duty to fullfill for our lives, no matter how difficult and unimaginable it seems.
For the moment though, Lucas Hartman, we sincerely look forward to explore said areas together, the sciences of both worlds contributing to each other, rather than fomenting rivalry and dissent of our principles.

·Finch: *glancing left and right, as if to motion the others forward* Your Highness. It should be in the best interests of both our worlds to rely on such principles. *he raises his hand for a shake* At least in our world, it is complementary to complete such an agreement with a vigorous and spirited handshake.

·Luna: *smiles affectionately* Then this is another semblance between our cultures *she gives him her hoof, although a bit hesitantly* Osculation is not a necessity, Donathan Finch.

·Finch: Certainly, Your Highness.

(They shake hoof and hand one more time, though this time more affectionately and trustingly. After a few seconds of shaking, Laukkinen breaks out of his position and grabs up his photocamera. As Luna and Finch turn to him so see what happened, he quickly nods his head and then asks)

·Laukkinen: Please, Your Highness, Mr. Finch, would photographs be appropriate?

·Finch: Naturally, Laukkinen. *turns to Luna* As he is our documenter, he will have to capture this moment.

·Laukkinen: *waves to Hartfield, Matuszek and Twilight* Please, ladies and Gentlemen, Ms. Sparkle, please feel free to come into the frame.

(They do as he bids, and come closer to Finch and Luna, who are still holding their shake. Dr. Matuszek picks up the book and the shield, presenting it to the camera, having the book rest in the foreground and Reynard’s shield symbolically in the back.
Laukkinen bows his face into the camera and makes the picture, as the crowd in the background gives a hefty cheer)

(Concluding Music Cue)

14. No Appointment

12. – Dr. Whooves’ Townhouse

(While Pinkie, having lost conscience again, lies on the office table of the doctor, he himself paces around, accessing the situation of Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy)

·Whooves: Again, young miss: Why did you bring her to me?

·Applejack: Well, yer’ called Doctor Whooves, so ah figured that you’d be the best person to truhst Pinkie to.

·Whooves: Well… I really am not sure if I am… qualified to medically treat your friend!

·Fluttershy: But aren’t you a doctor?

·Whooves: Rather! *beat* With which I mean, that I am simply not acquainted with Equine… ahem, I mean general biology.

·Rarity: So you tell us you are not a qualified doctor, and yet you’re called doctor?

·Whooves: It is… perhaps more of a nickname. And apart from that; being a doctor does not automatically make me a medical practitioner.

·Applejack: Enuff big words, doc; Pinke Pie here guht hit on the head preddy hard, and we have ’ta be off to some reeeely importn’ bizness.

·Whooves: Hit on the head? How on earth did you manage to hit your friend on the head?

·Applejack: Twasn’t us! It was one of ‘em ‘umans!

·Whooves: Hu… Did you say “Humans”?

·Fluttershy: Yes. You wouldn’t believe it: I found that poor creature lying in the woods, being attacked by that vicious cockatrice! I could save him in the nick of time…

·Whooves: Human? Really? Ha, now that is rather a fortunate correlation, innit?

·Rarity: What do you mean, doctor? Have you ever seen a human before?

·Whooves: Not… directly… no… I know them from… tales! Just old tales…

·Rarity: Well, doctor, we happen to be on our way to warn Princess Celestia herself of those dreadful creatures. It seems like those savages are sitting somewhere in the woods, planning to rob and plunder, or even worse!

·Whooves: Do they, those... silly sods…

·Rarity: Pardon me?

·Whooves: Ah… nobody. Nopony, that is… So, a human knocked out your friend? ... What did he do that for?

·Applejack: Beats me. He wuhs just no friend of nopony.

·Rarity: He had even dared to threaten us! In Fluttershy’s own house! After Fluttershy saved him, no less!

·Fluttershy: Well… it was just something small I did…

·Rarity: Don’t be modest, Fluttershy! This was just one thankless creature, I can tell you! No appreciation at all!

·Whooves: Well… alright, my young friends. I shall commit to your friend, after all, it does not seem too bad, I guess… Now, you just find that human and… if the possibility is there… perhaps show him to me?

·Applejack: Sure, doc. Better spread the word tho’. Dere’s more of ‘em ‘umans comin’ dis way, too! Acted all calm and affable, mahnd you, but dey wanted to speak wid Celestia personally. W’ve gotta warn her quick!

·Whooves: Well, I am certain that there is no reason to panic, is there? I am certain that those humans are perhaps only adventurers… looking for adventure. *under his breath* And are simple-minded at best!

·Rarity: Doctor! I find it very difficult to believe that they are not just some cowardly thugs and slavers! Just like in the stories!

·Whooves: *laughs nervously* Well, haha, I would not jump to pre-emptive conclusions if I were you. I am certain they don’t strive to split the sky open or anything like that…

(Speaking of the devil, a murderous, yet distant, echoing roar-like growl in the background makes the character shudder. Doctor Hooves opens one of his windows (which he usually kept behind curtains most of the time for some reason) to see what was going on. He spots, far above them in the sky, a fighter jet scout breaking through the clouds)

·Pilot: *into the radio* Master; Thatch here, 23-58-22l; current position 139200 ft NNE of Break Point Bravo. Overflying Tango November 3. Golf Foxtrot not sighted; Alpha Foxtrot not sighted. Charlie India Victors, dispersing on ground. Over.

·Lead: Master here; Roger, Thatch. Abort at 1530 hrs, return to formation. Preparation of S-2. Over.

(Back on the ground)

·Whooves: *snarkily deadpan* Well, by Jove.

·Applejack: Waddin’ tarnation is dat?!

·Whooves: Well, it may be those humans of yours.

·Fluttershy: *intimidated by the growling* What?! How…?

·Whooves: A fighter jet- *stops abruptly; corrects himself* With which I mean;… I have no faint idea what that thing could be… Perhaps a… rather large and loud bird?

·Fluttershy: Do you mean dragons?

·Whooves: *beat* Perhaps…

·Rarity: We have to go, and go fast! Before those humans beat us to it!

·Whooves: Well, humans are never really fast in anything… *beat* or so I have read. Quite depressing, actually.

(Pinkie comes around. She raises her head from the table, as if she were really drunk. She looks at the doctor and then at her friends)

·Pinkie: Wazzup, Applejack? Uh, my head feels like a squeaky doll.

·Fluttershy: *with much relief* Oh Pinkie Pie! *hugging her* We were so worried that he hit you too hard!

·Pinkie: Oh, *lunging for air* its cool that you worried about me.

But… who are you?

(There is a moment of complete silence. Everyone stares at Pinkie in the deep shock of the moment)

·Whooves: What… did she say? Oh, this isn’t good…

·Rarity: Oh, no! Pinkie…

·Fluttershy: *tearful of fear* Pi… Pinkie?

·Pinkie: *in a sudden change of mood* Ha! Gotcha! You, like, fell for the oldest of ‘em! You really thought that a smack on the head would make me forget everythi-

·Fluttershy: *hugging her even harder* Oh, thank goodness you are alright! We were so unbelievably worried!

·Applejack: *pushing her head in place out of relief* Well, by Granny’s hip, dat was a close wun. O’right, fellas, lets go and get dat scamp who holed up my hat.

·Pinkie: *ready to get up, but sees Applejack’s hat* T’heeheehee, “holed up”…

·Applejack: No, Pinkie. Lah back down. You’re hurt. Ledde doc take care of ya.

·Whooves: On the other hand… hoof… you maybe go right with your friends, Pinkie. I see that you recuperated rather speedily. *assuming a rushed official stance* According to my diagnosis, you are... well. *opens the door down the stairs* Let us go now, miladies.

·Applejack: Ya… really sure she’s fine?

·Whooves: Of course! Can’t fix her any more! Now let us go… This will get extremely fascinating…

(He hurries through the door of his practice, outside)

·Rarity: Doctor!

·Whooves: Allons-y!

·Pinkie: Come on, you heard him! Lets find this meanie-pants human. Alone Zee!

·Rarity: Let us better go, or else those two will run off as well!

(Concluding Music Cue)

15. Crazy Gods

14. Scene – Zecora’s hut

(Jane had dragged himself though the forest for hours. The only possibility he saw was to retrace his steps after landing his parachute. Somewhere near the area of impact, he must have lost his emergency radio and location kit, which was included in the parachute equipment. He had to go back to find it and contact the reinforcements ASAP.
He ultimately found the parachute, still hanging in shreds in one of the trees. However, none of his equipment, that should have reached the ground, were to be found. Had someone collected it during his absence? The two horses who saved him, perhaps?
Disgruntledly, he continued along the small dirt path. Through a small field of awkward, bluish flowers. He paid no further attention to it. Soon, however, he spotted a small hut, which strangely resembled southern African settlements. He saw that smoke rose out of the chimney hole; somebody had to be in there.
He hides behind a nearby bush, and trains his gun at the entrance. Should anybody exit it, he would be automatically in advantage. Then, suddenly, bushes started moving to his right. ‘Not this time’ he thinks, and aims, willing the pull the trigger at the smallest proof that it had seen him first. However, a zebra came out, passing him without noticing him. She immediately skips onto the path, and empties her small pouch in front of her front step. She had prepares some small tools next to the entrance, such as a hammer and a chisle. With her snout, she digs around in the little heap of findings, grinning with deep satisfaction)

·Zecora: Soon, my wondrous instruments
I will find out with careful sense,
How you ever came to be
Lying near the highest tree…

(She picks up a strange sort of capsule with her mouth and delivers it unto a nearby chopping block)

·Zecora: Like a firework you are shaped

Though never at a thing like you I gaped.

The tar so clearly poured in form

Then coated by the orange horm.

(She proceeds to smack a small mallet upon the capsule, causing it to burst and split into two)

·Zecora: And now black powder flowing out
That makes the shining lights fly ‘bout.

(From behind his cover, Jane realises; ‘Fireworks? Tar? Orange horm? Shining lights?’ He looks closer. That capsule was a signal flare bullet. And with that zebra hammering on it with such a force, it’s a miracle that it hasn’t exploded already. He takes quick action before Zecora can lift her hammer once more)

·Jane: No! Stay away from the capsule! It’s explosive, it’ll blow up you and your hut.

·Zecora: *surprised* Stupendous beast, don’t scare me so.
You really thought that I don’t know?

·Jane: Well yes. Yes, I did! You’re welcome.

·Zecora: Where did you hail from, anyway?
Is your home from far away?

·Jane: That’s none of your business. Hand over the equipment, now! *he cocks his gun threateningly and pulls out a hand to receive the flare rounds*

·Zecora: *angrily* What in all the forest fair
Does make you think I will defer?

·Jane: Perhaps the fact that I carry a gun. Now hand it over!

·Zecora: It’s up to me for you to catch.
As when you threaten, I will dash!

(Before Jane can react, Zecora pulls forth a small glass tube from her pouch and stomps on it. There is a loud bang, and instantly, the whole area is covered by heavy, grey smog. Though Jane can still breathe, his view on Zecora is completely gone. In his desperation, he shoots at the place she stood just moments ago.
When he notices that she is long gone, she skips forward to the spot where he presumes the chopping block and the pile of equipment stood. He stumbles upon the block, and turns around for the equipment. He finds it, sinks on all fours to greedily sort out the flare rounds as he hears a loud noise approaching from above.
An aircraft! It must be! He has to find the gun quickly. As he spots the orange piece of plastic only mere centimetres away from him, he suddenly receives a painful buck in his backside.)

·Zecora: You fool! You thief! You little thug!
You thought an enchantress you could mug?

·Jane: Thief? You stole my equipment, you witch! *he scrambles forth the flare gun and lets a cartridge slide inside* I need to fire that shot. Stay back!

·Zecora: You dare command me, in my home?
You will pay a heavy lo-

(Jane quickly turns on his back and empties the gun vertically upwards. The noise is loud and the flare flash only gets magnified by the fog. It hisses upward a few dozen metres, and gradually explodes in a large, red fireball above the trees. Zecora is dumbfounded, as only seconds later, a dark shadow covers up the foggy cloud they stand in.
Accompanied by heavy rotor sounds, a fully grown helicopter has been halted in mid-flight by the small missile, and now hovers directly above them; the flare had nearly tackled it off course. The Chinook sinks down upon the floor on the treeless area around the hut, and the grey smoke cloud is literally blown away by the violent wind that causes all the trees, bushes, and even Zecora’s hut to yield. Flood lights on board of the aircraft illuminate the gloomy atmosphere.
Jane and Zecora lie flat on the ground, blinded and tied down by the strong winds and deaf by the loud engines roaring. Through a megaphone, the pilot addresses them)

·Pilot: Stay on the ground, or we will open fire! Stay on the ground or we will open fire!

(Jane can see that ropes get lowered from the Chinook’s three hatches, and several men in full battle attire make their way to the ground at a moderate speed. They land, unbuckle and immediately engage the two creatures lying flat.
One of the men yanks Jane by his sleeve to get his attention, recognising his badge immediately)

·Soldier: Name?! Rank?! Unit?! Identify yourself!

·Jane: David Eyre! RAAF Sergeant! 5th Trashies!

·Soldier: *salutes him speedily* Right! Stand up, Sarge! *gets out a carbine* Hook in, you’re wounded!

·Jane: *hooks in* Thanks, I can manage! Listen, you have to do something about the diplomats and my mates!

·Soldier: What exactly happened?!

·Jane: We were attacked! By bloody horses! Flogg Off John Kinsman and Flight Sergeant Henry Mallard have could not be relocated! They’re either KIA or POW! We need to warn the dips!

·Soldier: *interestingly not hesitant about the ’bloody horses’ description* Right! Hold fast! *he attaches him to one of the ropes* What’s wrong with that one?! *he points at the zebra, who is still on the ground, getting covered by another rifleman*

·Jane: Leave her! Civilians! Damn Civilian fruitcakes! All trying to kill you! Let God sort ’em out!

·Soldier: Good. One less thing! Strap in, we’re flying directly to our deployment zone!

·Jane: *holding himself in place as the rope tightens and starts pulling him upwards* Deployment zone?!

·Soldier: The Major’s right inside! He wants to know it all! Tell him who your enemies were and where they came from!

·Jane: No prob!

(The men scout the forest surroundings, then re-enter the helicopter on by one. Soon, it was back in the air and in motion. Jane was the first one they managed to locate.
Major Atkinson and Vice Marshal McIntyre listen closely to what Jane has to say; They were attacked by armoured, flying horses with wings which was referred to as a “Royal Guard”. The civilians, in this case talking horses and other equines were allied with said “Royal Guard”, willing to go as far as to deliberately attack soldiers.
From this moment on, McIntyre simply knew that this was a very war-like situation, and that it was time to punch those strange, extraordinary enemies right in their mussles.
Back on the ground, Zecora stands up in awe at the suprising intervention from the sky. Her complex mind doesn't allow her to simply ignore what had just happened. She couldn't explain it, but there was a certain emotional distemper lurking around now. Like cloud, the human arrival shaped like one bad premonition)

(Concluding Music Cue)

16. A Vote of Confidence / The Eclat of Obstinacy

15. - Canterlot Great Hall

(Princess Luna, Finch, Matuszek and Hartfield are situated around a table, standing in the middle of the large hall. Luna had to grant the diplomats three minutes time to come out of the awe-induced catharsis. Mr. Finch proceeded to lay out a few papers on the table, which were outlines of treaties as well as written statements of most of the world leaders. Outside, the cheering and babbling of the crowds continued throughout. The excitement was big.
No one outside the castle knew any details about the truly violent history of Humans, Ponies, Pegasi and Unicorns living together. It was in ancient times, in the eras of Homer, that the groups began to separate. The equines , feeling oppressed by human settlements, migrated into well less-known areas of the globe, swearing mutually not to engage with humans anytime soon.
But not even luna knew the remaining chapters of this very book. There were ‘incidents’ between equines and humans before and after Reynard’s takeover. The only one who could indeed say that she was there absolutely every time, was Celestia.
The crowd outside went silent suddenly. Luna looked up from reading the bids and congratulations of the world leaders, and so did Finch, Hartfield and Matuszek. What was happening out there?)

·Luna: We believe there may be a predicament.

·Hartfield: Sounds like one.

·Luna: *rising* We might have to beg thou to follow us.

·Finch: Why so, Your Highness?

·Luna: Believe us, thou shall understand soon. *to her servants* Lead our guests to the scriptorium. And bid our sister welcome.

·Matuszek: Your sister, Ma’am?

·Luna: Princess Celestia. She has not been informed of thy visit.

·Finch: Please, Your Highness, that will not be a major complication.

·Luna: She took her experiences with humanity very… personal. Please, follow Lily Odor through the door and up the stairs. We will summon thou and thy companions later.

·Finch: Just one moment, Your Highness. *moving to Special Agent Levin, who stands near the door, talking to one of the Royal Guards* Agent Levin. We’ll be moving on. Princess Luna is suggesting that her sister will not receive us very friendly. Be aware that it might turn critical.

·Levin: Thank you, Mr. Finch. I will do my best. I will ask around if there are any alternate exits.

·Finch: Good. Just remember; mark my words: No fighting and no killing. As a diplomatic mission we have no right to attack them, should they restrict us from travelling on or leaving the country.

·Levin: I know how this works, Mr. Finch. This is not my first escort assignment.

·Finch: This is not the Taliban, Levin. We are in a full functioning, legitimate state, not at war, but with a currently positive stance towards us. Don’t mess this up.

·Levin: I know how to do my job. You don’t have to patronize me, Finch!

·Hartfield: Mr. Finch. Please, get over here.

(They speedily cross the great hall, servant in front. The reach a small side door hidden in one of the mirrors on the side. The servant clumsily drags out a set of keys, and then cannot decide which one is the right one for that lock.
In that moment, the grand gate of the hall, on the other end of the room, opens. One dozen Pegasi guards enter in a militaristic gallop. Once they have cleared the entrance, Princess Celestia comes in. Her face is dominated by both urgency and weariness. Rainbow walks to her left, with an abnormally worried expression. Worried because of her regent)

·Celestia: *to Luna, who is standing closest to her* Luna, good that you are here already. Come with me, we have to brace ourselves.

·Luna: *rather indifferently* Against whom, my dear sister?

·Celestia: The humans. They have returned. They preparing another try. We must get the Royal Guard scrambling to encounter them! *she moves to the table that has been used by Finch and Hartfield just a minute before and clears the pages away left and right with her levitational magic, without even noticing what is written on them* We need all of the maps of Equestria, right now! They have acquired some new weapons this time…

·Rainbow: *whispering to Twilight* Gee, you have no idea what kaboozles is going on up in Cloudsdale. Some weird ponytale creatures flew up in one of those things like Pinkie uses, you know those, you know… whirling things on top…

·Twilight: Rotors?

·Rainbow: Yeah, exactly. Now, we trid to scare ‘em away and then and then they totally crashed into our clouds! We arrested them, and then Celestia personally came to ask them where they came from, and then they started shouting and complaining, and then…

·Twilight: What?

·Rainbow: Twilight, Celestia started shouting back. As if she was not herself in that moment.

·Twilight: Oh dear. You mean, that Celestia was angry at them?

·Rainbow: That doesn’t even put it, really. I don’t know what it was, it must have been something far back.

·Twilight: Oh no. I’ll talk to her now, don’t worry. *to Celestia* Princess Celestia. What is the matter?

·Celestia: Oh Twilight. It is good of you that you are here. Please, bring me some of the plans from the Marble Tower Library, will you?

·Luna: But Celestia. Hear me out first. Diplomats have arrived to talk with us both.

·Celestia: I told you that we do not have the time. We are at war!

·Luna: At war?

·Celestia: Yes. We may face the gravest danger since the release of Discord.

·Luna: Are you certain? Please, Celestia, just look to your right and then tell me that the diplomats are of less importance.

·Celestia: *looks up and right* Yes, why? *she sees the Finch, Hartfield, Matuszek, Laukkinen, Levin and her agents still waiting at the door, with the servant having completely lost the faith of becoming the door open*

·Luna: Our visitors, my dear sister.

·Rainbow: *clinging on to Twilight with excitement* They… they’re humans! They’re the humans! Twilight, how did they get here?!

·Twilight: They asked to speak to the princesses.

(Once more, silence prevails as Celestia sees and understands)

·Celestia: *slowly and silently* The audacity…

·Luna: Celestia, please, refrain just for once.

·Celestia: No, Luna! *to the Pegasi* Guards, seize and arrest the humans.

·Levin: *instantly unholstering for her weapon* Hold your horses! This is the Diplomatic Security! In the name of the UN!

·Finch: Levin! Stop!

·Agents: *pull their guns and jostle their way in front of the diplomats as if to form a defensive line*

·Luna: Royal Guards! We order thee to abstain!

·Celestia: Stop playing your silly games, Luna! These humans not only assaulted innocents, but then even have the gall to come into these very halls. And to lie to us while looking into our very eyes!

·Luna: As your sister I have the right to order our Guard to halt!

·Celestia: Guards; apprehend them.

·Luna: Guards! We demand that thou all desist of our guests! *to Celestia* They came here to talk peace! They came not for war.

·Celestia: They came for war, sister! They did before and they do so now.

·Finch: *intervening from the other side of the hall* Your Highness, please! We came with no violent intentions whatsoever!

·Celestia: Silence! You will answer when you are asked. I cannot bear another lie from the mouths out of the likes of you! Have you or have you not brought along the large, black birds that circle Canterlot like vultures circle a dying bison?

·Luna: Celestia, what ever you are talking about…

·Celestia: On my way here, I was nearly thrown off the chariot by one of the creatures. I saw that there were humans inside them, commanding their every movements!

·Finch: *silently to Hartman and Matuszek* What? Fighters? Does she mean aircraft? Where the bloody hell did they come from?!

·Matuszek: Mr. Finch… what have you done?

·Finch: *audibly* I did not order a thing!

·Matuszek: *accusingly* Then who did order it?

·Hartfield: No one did! No one could have possibly given that order from here; we’re out of the radio reach. You know that!

·Celestia: *overhearing every word; trodding menacingly towards the surrounded diplomats* What do you have to say, humans?

·Finch: Your Highness. I say that no air strikes or any other combatant moves were agreed or ordered! This must be a misunderstanding…

·Celestia: Then is the downed iron ‘helicopter’ that gored the very foundations of Cloudsdale earlier this morning a misunderstanding as well? And is the human that dared to threaten Equestria with war and redemption after we had captured him an misunderstanding, too?

·Rarity: And is the cowardly assault upon Pinkie Pie of all ponies just a coincidence as well, human?!

(Everybody turns around to witness Rarity, Applejack and Pinkie Pie enter the great hall, taking their side next to Princess Celestia, Rainbow and Twilight)

·Applejack: Ah sinceerleh hope dat for yer little scheme didn’t spare any trouble or expenses, ‘cos it fooled nopony!

·Pinkie: That meanie-pants hurt me right here! *points right on her forehead*

·Celestia: *to her sister; nearly jeeringly* Is this your own special perception of peace, Luna? Can’t you see that the humans try it all again? Every time our cultures crossed ways, it had ended in the cold misery of greed and war and slavery.

·Luna: Celestia. You know that it is not right to succumb to one’s very own prejudgements. What Reynard did, was truly appaling. I was there, sister. I, too, was very fond of old Starswirl the Bearded. I too saw with my own eyes how he was struck down during the battle for Ponyville. His frail body was no match for their steel.
But the cardinal difference, Celestia, lay in the fact that afterwards, I forgave. I tried to see good, and I saw it. The book of the humans, though utterly unfeasible and occasionally immoderate, was pure in its principles and clean in its morals. I understood, that they were deluded in the book’s words, rather than actively ignoring them.

·Celestia: Did you really believe that Reynard was the only time, Luna?

·Luna: *taken by surprise by this revelation* What do you mean?

·Celestia: I mean that if Reynard would have been the only time, it would have still been possible for me to forgive. But it was not. During your grievious absence from this world, sister, the humans came back. Two times. They came in smaller groups, passing our frontier in a very similar manner. They were different from Reynard’s army, but what they had in common was the lust for glory. While you, Luna, may have had spent a forlorn presence in your banishment, I am glad to say you were at least kept away from the tensions.
Tensions that would have fed a thousand Windigos. It were difficult years. They came, they stayed, they claimed many both lives and spirits. I had to… to sweep them away. *she halts, being shaken by her choice of words*.

·Luna: *cutting off her explanations* Look upon the table, sister!
It is from their leaders. They wrote us their personal guarantees.

(Celestia bows over the table. She skims through the now wildly scattered epistles and formalities. To show her ultimate despair, she flings all the papers off the table with a non-present, magical fist. Luna steps forward forcefully. She picks up one of the letters with her horn magic, and levitates it all the way into Celestia’s face. This all happens much to the curiosity of the humans, who had not yet true levitation at first hand)

·Luna: Read! 142 individual addresses. It is certainly not a small horde of thieves or groups of mislead fanatics this time.
Now it is the entity of the human civilisations, who has sent us their greetings, each with their own respective seal, crest and signatures. Without even one demand. Without even one shout for compliance.
Not even a human would be foalish enough to back such words with troops-in-arms.

·Celestia: *discarding the letter in front of her nose, although she is visibly chipped in her assertiveness* It makes no sense. *to the diplomats* Why do you do that?

·Finch: *pathetically, pitted by the rate of change of state* We did nothing. I swear to God in the heaven above… that we came here with a peaceful purpose.

·Celestia: You swear to your own God?

·Luna: Yes sister. He just swore to his God.

(Not one second after the words were uttered, a thunder-like echo emits from outside. It was followed by the roaring of two jets overpassing Canterlot with great speed)

·Luna: What was that?

·Celestia: The iron birds…

(There is another short moment of assessment of the situation. Finch, roused by the homely sound of military engines, makes a speedy decision)

·Finch: *hands the suitcase he had been holding on to the entire time to Matuszek* Hold this will you? *before Dr. Matuszek can inquire what he is trying to do, he suddenly breaks out of between the others, heading quickly for the main exit*

·Hartfield: Finch! What are you doing?

·Levin: Stay here, Mr. Finch! Are you crazy?!

(What happens then is a matter of a few seconds:
He brushes aside the DS- agents, who try to stop him vehemently, but only manage to grab and pull off his security vest in the process.
He storms across the room, past the Guard Pegasi who had kept the humans in check just a minute ago. They try to cut off his way and to hold him, but they barely miss him while trying to jump him to stop him in his tracks.
Celestia and Luna are taken as much by surprise as everybody else, but regain their senses quickly as they start shouting at their Guards to stop him or to leave their escapee be, respectively. Also, they cannot apply their levitational magic in time as Finch tackles the last guard in his way and then heads directly for the door.
The Mane six prepare to engage him as he tries to pass through the portal to the outer entrance gate of the castle building. Applejack stomps her hooves and Rainbow Dash prepares her wings. Pinkie and the princesses join the Guard Ponies in their chase of Finch.
Finch reaches the outer atrium of the hall and shifts open the heavy door…)

(At the exactly same time, the contignent under the lead of Vice Marshal McIntyre lands outside the Canterlot district, on a small knoll in the royal Gardens near a connectional road between Ponyville and Canterlot, overseeing the back gate of Canterlot Castle itself, and unwittingly being merely 500 metres away from the UN delegation inside. As that large building had been determined to be a major tactical landmark beforehand, it was the duty of that special helicopter to land and hold this spot until the diplomats could be located. The SAR mission would “begin right here”, as McIntyre put it.
Above them, an interesting dogfight between two Recon jets and half a dozen Guard Pegasi took place, who all whirled through the air with an immense agility and traded sporadic machine gun fire and the occasional heat-seeking missile (by the jets, not the Pegasi), who would always get outmanoeuvred by the Pegasi and then blindly past them and explode in mid-air.
Back on the ground, McIntyre climbs out of the landed Chinook, dragging his field radio operator with him)

·McIntyre: *into the radio* Hello! Hello! This is Grasshog 1 speaking. Respond, over! *throwing the handset back at the Field Radio Operator* God damn it! Does anything work in here?! *to the SASR members* Right: square position around the Chinook, at the double! Machine gunner, you get your gear over there! Facing 14:00 o’clock at the gatehouse and buildings! Sgt Eyre, you stay right where you are! Group Captain White, join Sgt Eyre, will you?
Everyone else, get that square going! Defensive position, wait for my
firing order! *he uses his binoculars to take a look at the Pegasi flying above him* Pegasi formation. Up at 11 o’clock. Ignore them, the fighters will steer ‘em clear from us! *he proceeds to watch the gate in front of him* Aha! The gate’s opening. Somebody is coming out to greet us, eh?

(The gate moves open and shut again, as if there was a struggle on it’s other side. Soon, it flings wide open as Finch personally stumbles out, only to be immediately followed by Applejack, Rainbow and lastly Princess Celestia)

·McIntyre: *still through his binoculars* What the hell? *to Jane* Hey, Eyre. My eyes aren’t that good now. Listen, can you tell me who that fellow is who just made his way out of the gate?

·Jane: *accepting the binoculars* Sir… that is Donathan Finch!

·McIntyre: Is he?!

·Jane: Almost certainly, sir! And… he is chased. We have to do something, sir!

·McIntyre: *taking the binoculars* Right! Machine Gunner, 14:00 o’clock, 500 metres, engage at my s-

(The machine gunner, having located and zeroed in on his target rather quickly, immediately opens fire, spraying ten bullets into the crowd at the gate, ant it takes a shove from McIntyre to make him stop)

·McIntyre: You stupid bastard! Wait for my order! That was a diplomat who was standing there!

(A trice earlier, Finch stumbles out of the exit, and, before he can be finally seized for good by Applejack and Rainbow, he sees the helicopter and the dug-in SASR-units in the distance. Then, he sees a machine gun’s mussle flash illuming from one of the barrels. Instinctively, he tries to turn away and lie down immediately. But Applejack and Rainbow, having not yet noticed the helicopter, however keep him upright. Finch decides to bowl them over to protect them, as well as Princess Celestia who stands behind them)

·Finch: Geddown!

(But the area is promptly convulsed by erupting bullet holes and little dust clouds, as mason debris and chinking margin sounds fill the atmosphere.
The three land on their knees and back-hooves, having never made behind cover flat on the ground. There is a short moment of realisation: Finch himself had been hit by one of the lead projectiles in his side. Applejack and Rainbow let go of his wounded form, out of deep shock and regret. Whatever had happened to him; it could have happened to them as well. He stumbles a little bit, but manages to keep himself standing upright by leaning against the archway. Celestia herself is momentarily surprise-stricken at this unforeseeable turn of events. She slowly approaches him, but Finch absent-mindedly refuses any aid)

·Finch: I… I will talk to him myself…

·Celestia: Wait! Don’t be a foal!

(He keeps dragging himself further towards the helicopter at a snail pace. The rest of the mane six, the guards and the rest of Finch’s delegation arrive at the gate, and Twilight and Fluttershy immediately rush to the limping human’s help before anyone can stop them.
They support him left and right, and help him to move along faster. Nobody still feels the need to chase that one down anymore. Still, Finch knows that he needs to keeps moving; if he can’t put that madness to an ultimate end then and there, then God knows how it would end for him and his colleagues. And for their countries. And for Equestria.
Halfway on the way to the knoll, McIntyre orders two of the Commandos to run up and to receive the wounded man, which meant break their carefully placed cover. But the men obey and jog to the three creatures, heads held low)

·Jane: Sir, can I take the binoculars once more? *he receives the binoculars and scrutinises Finch’s two helpers* That’s… unbelievable. I swear, there is one of the ponies I encountered in the woods. The one on the right… she bandaged my injuries…

·McIntyre: You’re sure?

·Jane: Definitely, sir.

(The two commandos receive Finch practically into their arms. He can hardly support himself, and is taken by the soldiers like on an invisible stretcher. But then he starts revolting trying to address the soldiers in the most neutral of stances)

·Finch: Where is Vice Marshal Edmond McIntyre? I want to speak to Vice Marshal Edmond McIntyre!

·Soldier: Sir, calm down. You are wounded.

·Finch: I could not care less. Get me McIntyre on the radio! That stupid cretin is not getting away with this! Do you want to start a goddamn war?!

·Soldier: The radios are out. Please, calm down, sir.

·Finch: Calm down? You nearly shot the regent of this country, and nearly killed me! Don’t you expect me to calm down. You better get those weapons of yours untied, you are on foreign soil without an authorisation to march through! This is an act of war, you need to surrender your weapons or they may retaliate!

·Soldier: *to his comrade* Hold him like that. *they help him onto the ground*

·Finch: *looks back at the helicopter* Are you from McIntyre’s detachment? You can go back and tell them that they don’t need to hide! The ponies are ready to abstain if you abstain! Surrender, now! Or they’ll fight back! We, do, not, need, war!

·Soldier: *nods hesitantly and turns around. He waves at the others to come to them*

·McIntyre: *through his binoculars* What the hell is going on? What do they want?

·Major: He says we should move forward. He wants you, sir.

·McIntyre: Well that may be, but we are in the middle of a combat situation right now! *looks up* Where did the jets go to, anyway?

·Major: Retreated, it seems.

·McIntyre: Christ, I hate it when there is no way to communicate properly! Without air support we have to keep on moving. *to the other soldiers* Right, move forward, scatter, slowly and steadily. Weapons at the ready. Defensive stance shall remain.

·Major: You’ve heard him, guys. Pack it up!

(On the steps of the gate, Celestia and her sister observe the situation.
What had Finch achieved? On moment he was nearly dying, the second one, he looked like he strived for putting up an argument with the other humans, and the very next moment, the human soldiers abandon their position and approach the castle. However, they did not discard any of their weapons in the process. She did not know if she should be suspicious or instead fully trust the human.
Only a few hundred metres away, Finch finally manages to address McIntyre, while Twilight and Fluttershy look on helplessly, unwilling to return to the castle)

·McIntyre: Mr. Finch! Good to see that you’re alive. Were you treated well? *looks at Twilight and the hopelessly intimidated Fluttershy* Are they medics?

·Finch: *sarcastically* The best there are. *he quickly proceeds to nonchalantly punch McIntyre in the face. He gets immediately restrained by two of the other soldiers*

·Fluttershy: *exasperatedly* Oh, no…

·Twilight: Mr. Finch! Please!

·McIntyre: *holding his nose* What the hell is wrong with you?!

·Finch: You nearly killed us all! That’s what’s wrong! You nearly started a war! That’s what’s wrong! Get your face off the soil. You’re provoking World War III here!

·McIntyre: *wiping his nose* Are you aware we came here to rescue you and the Royal Australian Airmen that were attacked out there by those creatures?!
A small fucking Thank You would be in order!

·Finch: I have no idea what you talk about! I was being threatened with incarceration for allegedly promoting an armed assault on the country! Where does that come from, do you think?!

·McIntyre: This is denouncement, pure denouncement! I will not remove a thing from here until the security of the entire diplomatic mission is ensured!

·Finch: They are being held at the castle due to the presence of you! Pull back your troops now, McIntyre! I carry the full responsibility for whatever happens after this!

·McIntyre: No, I won’t!
That is so typical of your kind! Diplomats… lying so-and-so. It is I who has to carry the burden for the security with this operation. You will get off scot-free in any case… except when you die, then it also wanders on my record! Rule no. 1, as a CO, do not ever let anyone else vouch for you!

·Finch: I will hold what I will promise, you silly sod! Pull off the men! You are on their territory.

·McIntyre: *beat; to his men* Detain him so he won’t subverse this SAR-mission! Prepare to advance upon the castle buildings.

·Finch: *still supported by two soldiers* Go to hell, McIntyre! You big bloody idiot! *in his plight, he looks around and quickly addresses Twilight and Fluttershy* Get back, you two! Tell Princess Luna it will not come about!

·McIntyre: No! Hold them! They are POWs from now on!

·Finch: Run!

(Without a moment’s hesitation, Twilight uses her levitational magic to make the soldiers next to her and Fluttershy topple back. She nudges Fluttershy to keep moving, using the gained time)

·Twilight: Quick, Fluttershy! Fly as fast as never before!

·Fluttershy: Oh, Twilight… what about you?

·Twilight: I can manage myself! Quick, fly to the princesses!

(Before the soldiers can overpower her, she jumps and takes off, whizzing back to the castle with a break-neck speed. She dodges a few stray bullets and drops upon the gatehouse’s platform with a scared yelp. She lands before Celestis’s hooves, who quickly proceeds to help her up with levitation.
McIntyre rages on his inside at the escapee, who would now definitely try to warn that “princess”)

·McIntyre: Right! No time to loose. Company: Scatter and advance at slow pace upon the gatehouse. Open fire upon my command only! Get Mr. Finch on a stretcher. He will accompany our advance *spots the scared Twilight, still standing there* And take her with you. We might still need her, POW or not!

(The company advances on, slowly closing in on the gatehouse where the Guards wait for take-off order by Princess Celestia.
Fluttershy starts to report quickly and breathlessly)

·Fluttershy: Yyyyour Highness, Princess Celestia! Mr: Finch says that the other don’t want to stand down!

·Celestia: Then I won’t either! Sergeant, make the Guards ready to fly!

·Matuszek: *Interveningly and appeasingly* Please your Highness, consider the lives that can be preserved!

·Celestia: They openly choose war, and by the sun, I will give them war!

·Matuszek: But they do not even directly act on accord of the UN.

·Celestia: I do not care for whom they work.
And this is why I will not harm you. You may have come here with good intentions, but they have not. Now I know my enemies.

·Matuszelk: Please, your majesty, believe me when I say that you don’t! Let them live!

·Luna: I believe her, Celestia. Her philosophy is wise, she would not lie to us.

·Celestia: Then what do you suggest, Luna? Should we simply let them rage on our soil, even though we should protect our ponies?

·Luna: *thoughtfully* No. We shall not, sister. *resolutely* But you know as well as me that there is a way to make them stand down their arms without shedding blood on either side.

·Celestia: Do you mean the Moon Spark Spell, Luna? You know that it requires a lot of energy and strong confidence. Even an Alicorn cannot do it by herself.

·Luna: Then we shall do it, sister. Together, we may be able to effectuate it alright.

·Celestia: I don’t know. I am not confident. It is a difficult spell and very consuming.
In the end, it may not even work at all, and yet we would have wasted much of both of our powers. We would be helpless against them, then…

·Luna: Then believe, sister. Trust me. I was led to believe that since I… returned, I would have gained your trust again.

·Celestia: Luna, I…

·Luna: You swore it to me, Tia.

·Celestia: *she closes her eyes contemplatingly* I did. *she turns to the Mane five* What do you think, my element bearers?

·Fluttershy: Please, I would like to vote for the peaceful solution

·Rarity: For these lowlifes? Why, one must do what can defeat them the fastest, your Highness! I say, do what you have to do!

·Rainbow: Uh, I don’t know. They looked quite affable to me… perhaps they are just doing their jobs, protecting here and serving there., just like the Royal Guards; they shouldn’t deserve something that… harsh …

·Applejack: Well, ah’ve heard much about them ‘umans, but seeing how those appear t’be more violent than others, ah’m ‘fraid ah cannot decide joost for mahself…

·Pinkie: Well, I don’t know either. They are mean, yes… but you can’t just sink on their level… My Ma always said ‘Pinkie, be always happy and polite. Be yourself and they will always lose’. Aren’t you usually so polite when you’re yourself, Princess? Maybe it’ll work.

·Celestia: We can try it. But I hope you are aware, that if we fail, we might as well be completely helpless against them.

·Lua: I know, Sister. *she solemnly touches Celestia’s horn with her hers* Let us try it.

·Hartfield: *worringly* What,… spell, your Highness?

·Matuszek: What is the “Moon Spark Spell”?

·Celestia: Well, you better close your eyes for this. *to the Mane Five* you too, please.

·Hartfield: *under his breath while closing his eyes* Oh, this is not going to be good, is it?

·Luna: *overhearing him* Do not worry, Lucas Hartfield. Thou shall be safe.

(Luna and Celestia point their horns at each other and close their eyes. Their horns start to glow subtly at first. Dr. Matuszek cannot believe her eyes, but quickly closes them as she remembers Celestia’s words)

·Celestia: *faintly* Captain; should we fail at casting this spell… do not show fear. Show no mercy. Defend Equestria,… to the last…

(Concluding Music Cue)

17. Nightmare

(Finch gripped his pounding side tightly as he dragged himself through the high grass of Canterlot’s bleak Palace Park. His head was still spinning, full of voices and memories, reliving his last known whereabouts.
His clothing was drenched in mud and soil. He froze. Even though it was the middle of summer. His wound felt like a hole to the outside of a Siberian log cabin. If he listened very closely, he could even hear it whistle.
He wearily looked around the partially razed park to find at least some orientation.
Over the edge of the balcony-like plateau of the completely abandoned garden, he could see Ponyville in the distance. A few, lone black smoke columns had silently risen out of the ground in the centre of the town, and ascended into the sky, darkening the clouds that rotated in the deserted heavens above him. The atmosphere was practically silent, except for the occasional moderate wind. Once and a while, a roar would emanate from above the clouds, and roll across over the horizon as quickly as it came.
Finch turned around.
Before him lay - what had remained of - the magnificent castle of Canterlot. Were it not for the countless missing windows and the nonexistent keep, it would have looked just as inspiring as... before. The colours had faded. All the colours had faded. The grass that reached up to his thighs seemed to be getting greyer by the second. ‘Must be the the fallout’ he thought.
Bearing the heart-like beating in his kidney not a moment longer, he slowly lowered his battered body into the moist grass. He tried to assort the thoughts of what had happened before he passed out. He was... on a stretcher, wasn’t he? Trying to stand up.... the soldiers... where were they? What were their last words again?)

·Cartwright: Distance, 3000 feet! Coming in at 50 mph! Two minutes until impact! Should we find cover, sir?

·McIntyre: Cover, Cartwright? … A toffee apple and not a glory hole in sight…

·Atkinson: Sir?

·McIntyre: Has an arty strike been ordered?

·Cartwright: No, sir.

(Yes. Yes, that made just sense. But what exactly happened then? Was that all? What about... Twilight? The purple unicorn who was at his side until the end. What did she say again?)

·Twilight: Is it really bad, Mr. Finch? It looks like a spell to me...

(Poor girl. Never knew what hit her, as they say.
Speaking of which. Equestria, as a whole. What an awful shame, he thought. A country with so much potential. It was something that many people could have considered to be the one thing closest to the Garden of Eden. With such a rosy future, had one certain somebody pooped the party for everyone.
Equestria, the rose which withered right after its bloom. Equestria, found and lost, lost and found. Oh, the kitschy irony.
It was crazy what nonchalant and mundane thoughts one could come up with the eve of despair and failure. When he had the shrivelled remains of an entire culture at his feet, with possibly the only thing still standing, per se. Everything was burning and wasting away as he lay there. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if that other big castle tower over there would come down any moment. It looked rather despaired.
For now, that was certain, it was all gone for good. All the potential, all the paradise. And all those innocent denizens.
Shame.
And he just lay in the grass, and didn’t feel even a smidge of melancholy. After all of this... mess...
Should he considering that a miracle? A good sign? Or simply as a sign for the horizon of empathy? Or maybe an indication that he turned into a sociopath? Has he gone crazy?
Quite possible.
Then, his wound began signalling him again. The cold air was streaming out (or ‘in’, it depends), as the skin around began... expanding?
What was happening? His wound, it suddenly behaved all like a suction cup. Wounds don’t work that way, that he was sure of.
Then, also the throbbing pain returned, slowly but gradually. He quickly pulled his coat over the wound opening, in a desperate attempt to seal it off)

·Voice: What are you waiting for? Hold him tight!
·Finch: *smugly* Pah, what do you think I’m trying to do the whole time?
·Voice: *ignoringly* Hold him while I take care of the projectile.
·Finch: What? Projectile? Aah, right, I remember. Quite a feat, getting shot and all, eh? *wincing* Oy, ouch! Watch it, will you?
·Voice: He’s flinching. It seems like he is coming to. Just hold him for a few more seconds, its nearly out.
·Finch: I don’t know who you’re talking to or what about, but you better stop it. Ow!
·Voice: His arms! Hold his arms! It’s almost over.

(With one pull, followed by a scorching yet iced trail of pain, Finch flinched horribly. The greyish grass around him exploded. For a moment, he felt as if he became trapped in a combine harvester, with the leaves and twigs lashing at his entire body.
Then... for just a split second... nothing.
He opened his eyes, and was received by a white, sterile ceiling staring down at him. His head felt like a motorbike engine, yet he could faintly move it left and right. To his left, he saw a orange-maned pony in a white suit and a stethoscope dangling around his neck, restraining his numbed arms to the bed with his hooves. On the left side, there stood a field surgeon in a camouflage shirt. He sported a small, bent, soiled and reddish piece of copper with a moderately big pincer. He smiled acknowledgingly has he pressed a white lump onto Finch’s pounding kidney)

·Corpsman: You see, sir? Isn’t that a great way to start the morning? By removing this little bugger from your nodule? *places the pincer on the desk* Oh, good morning, by the way, Mr Finch.
I hope the operation didn’t affect your dreams too much. I can tell you, I was sweating when I woke up this morning. A nightmare beyond compare. Never had anything like it.
·Finch: *weakly* Whatonearthareyouonabout?
·Corpsman: You have slept for almost fifteen hours, sir. You’re one of the last ones to wake up.
·Finch: Butwhathappened? WhereamI?
·Doctor: Nursehoof Central Hospital, Ponyville. Enjoy your stay. You can find your suitcase on the table to your left.
·Finch: *unsure* Thanks? *to the surgeon* Whereiseverybodyelsecorpsman?
·Corpsman: Here. They’re all in this room. Just look around.
·Doctor: Don’t think that you’re the only one to have received the full broadside by Princess Celestia. With that spell of hers, she practically overdid herself this time. Don’t you think?
·Finch: Leavemyhandsalone.
·Doctor: *lets go of his hands* Whoopsie. Sorry. It’s just, while you slept you were wriggling like a fish on a hook.
·Finch: Sleep? Iwasasleep?
·Doctor: Yep.
·Finch: *he closes his eyes with deep relief* Thankgod.

(Concluding Music Cue)

18. Waiting

16. – RAAF Base Pearce, Western Australia

(Eighteen hours have passed. The base is still at full alarm. The news of the… delay of the attack were carried home by some of the pilots. Rear Admiral Sir Wetherby, Brigadier General Menendez and Group Captain Benson look at a trued of Area H#12, in a small, unclimatised briefing room inside the base quartres)

·Benson: *a raspy voice and the attitude of someone who was is deprived of a few hours of sleep* Four hours ago, Flight 12-52-94 returned to base… he was the last. Let us look at that casualty list again *he unpacks a clip board with stuck-in papers*; 18 planes returned in total… seven by ‘tactical retreat’… two for running out of ammunition… five for running out of fuel, and another two for substantial collateral damage on the exterior.

·Menendez: This is grave. I mean, granted, they were mere cadet pilots, but this must have been especially terrifying.

·Benson: Of them all, 70% claimed to have seen “horses with wings” waging combat with them in the air. Another 20% wish not to talk about what happened.

·Wetherby: What about the Chinook detachment? Did they even return?

·Benson: Sir… *looks it up on the list* Exactly one returned. Brought the full payload of IRRs back with them, too…

·Wetherby: One out of how many?

·Benson: Out of four, sir.

·Menendez: Well, what happened to the rest? And their crews? And the SAS-commandos and engineers?

·Benson: Those could be… *wiping through his hair* considered MIA for now. 45 men in total, 9 air crew, 24 IRRs and 12 SASRs, notwithstanding Vice Marshal McIntyre, Group Captain White, the MIA crewmembers or the MIA diplomatic Corps from yesterday forenoon.
*takes a deep breath before continuing* And the ‘funniest’ thing is that, in order to effectively organise another SAR mission, it would take, what, at least 24 more hours. Mordor is snagging. *shrugs cynically* It happens…

·Menendez: And as for my men, it would take a week to get US-marines over here. At least seven days.

·Wetherby: I will not eve start about the RN. It took them half an eternity to get me over here. Not to mention how long actual reinforcements would take.

(Suddenly, a communications officer swings open the door, and proclaims)

·Officer: Group Captain Benson, sir, contact was established!

·Benson: Wait, what?

·Officer: Radio contact was established with Vice Marshal McIntyre’s com, Grasshog 1.

(The three officers look at each other for a moment, not immediately realising that they had been hoping on for that kind of message. The jump from the chairs and push themselves out of the briefing room, taking the officer with them)

·Benson: Commo, you lead on!

·Officer: Yes sir. Communications Room 4, just down the stairs and the first one on the right…

(They burst through the room’s door in a quick march, and crowd around the designated radio set. The officer takes his seat and speedily fumbles his earphones back on. Benson, who is nearly broken by the anticipation, rips them from his head)

·Benson: Use the goddamn loudspeakers, Commo!

·Officer: Yes, sir.

(As the loudspeakers are turned on, the listeners are greeted by loud static signals)

·Officer: Oh…kay. *to Benson* Sir, we just had him online a minute ago.

·Benson: Oh great. Was he at least well?

·Officer: He said he was “quite a bit out of action”…

·Benson: Well, that was to be expected. *to the others* I have no idea what is to be expected, but…

·McIntyre: Hello, this is Groundhog 1 to HQ, over!

·Benson: *quickly responding* Yes! Yes. Yes, this is Benson at HQ responding… over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Roger that, Benson. So, how are you? Over.

·Benson: *pausing* Sorry, sir, repeat that question, over.

·McIntyre: *beat* How are you Benson, over?

·Benson: *ridiculingly* Sir, how are you? We had you designated as MIA. And so were the SASRs and IRRs you had with you. Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* So, I am… *sounds of the speaker getting passed around* Sorry about that, this is… would you… would just give me the damn thing?! Give it to me! Yes, I can hold it myself. And watch out for that cable… Oh for Christ’s sake…
I got it, I’m holding it, its in my hand! Yes, you can go now. No, just go! And go and visit a doctor to get those eyes of yours fixed, will you?
Right, I apologise for this, Benson. Those guys probably’ve never seen a proper FR before.

·Benson: What is your current position, sir? In what combative state or situation are you? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Well, strictly speaking, right out.

---------

(Nearly eighteen hours earlier)

·Celestia: *weakly* Captain; should we fail at casting this spell… do not show fear. Show no mercy. Defend Equestria,… to the last…

(The glowing gets stronger and stronger. They shine like a thousand torches united in only a few sparks.
As if in a trance, the two princesses move to the edge of the gate staircase. They raise their heads and horns high, and, out of the blue, a great white spark comes flashing down from the sky. At first, it drops slowly, like a large flare…)

·Cartwright: *spotting the spark first* Oh dear god. *shouting over to McIntyre* Sir!

·McIntyre: *looking up* What the…

·Atkinson: Is that…? *realises* Missile incoming at 10 o’clock!

(The other soldiers drop on their knees in the high grass, they all see the spark)

·Finch: *from his stretcher, to Twilight* What is that?

·Twilight: *scared* I… I have no idea.

·Finch: *looks back up* Then God save us all. That is a missile.

·Twilight: *uncertain* What is a missile?

·Finch: *keeping to talk while looking over to McIntyre* … Best one doesn’t think about it.

·Cartwright: *quickly using his electronic binocular* Distance, 3000 feet! Coming in at 50 mph! Two minutes until impact! Should we order to find cover, sir?

·McIntyre: Cover, Cartwright? *follows the spark with his eyes; slowly and calmly* A toffee apple and not a glory hole in sight…

·Atkinson: *inquiringly* Sir?

·McIntyre: Has an arty strike been ordered?

·Cartwright: No, sir. Not by us, and not by HQ.

·McIntyre: *paralysed* We… we have two minutes. We… wouldn’t reach cover before that thing comes in. Would we?

·Atkinson: *in a faint whisper* We wouldn’t, sir.

·Finch: Oh Christ, no.

·Twilight: *to Finch* Is it really bad, Mr. Finch? It looks like a spell to me...

·Finch: *cynically* Does it?

(The soldiers react differently. Some lie flat on the ground, burying their helmeted heads in their arms. Others stay as they are, praying, frozen at the thought of imminent death. Others stand up, turning around nervously, looking around for caves, forests, cellars or something like it in their surrounding. But there is nothing there but garden, fields and a flimsy maze.

On the gatehouse’s porch, the princesses initiate the true spell. A white and a blue thunder flash emit from their horns, as they take a few steps back to yield to the pure emanating energy. It shoots all the way up into the air, colliding with the spark in a magnificent white flash.

The men get down quickly, clenching their helmets and lying flat before the supposed explosion’s pressure wave.
But there is no explosion. Instead the white spark stops, and begins hovering in mid-air.

Then, it starts circling round and round, round in round. Never had they seems something like that before. Slowly and steadily, it transforms into a perfect, glass-like orb. From its middle, a little, purple gleam begins forming. It gets stronger and brighter, pumping like a heart, and gaining momentum with each beat. Each beat taints the surrounding countryside in an increasingly intensive cold crimson, seemingly casting a spell over the entire atmosphere.

The men start to notice how the intensive light starts to blind them severely. They only see the flash of the light before the eyes, and nothing else. They cover their eyes with weary hands, and try to turn away from it, but they don’t see any better. Some close their eyes or look to the ground, suddenly feeling themselves overcome with an awkward tranquillity. Their equipment suddenly feels so much heavier.
With his eyes tightly shut, McIntyre reaching out for the shoulder of his second. He starts feeling a strange lightness in his chest, and massages his forehead in an enervated manner, in an attempt to keep conscience.
Finch fares no better. He has given up to try to screen his eyes, and limply stares at the incessantly turning orb. Slowly, his contracted body relaxes, and he sinks back down into the stretcher from which he attempted to rise mere moments ago.
Even Twilight, who painstakingly tries to sort her thoughts, begins to stagger slightly. Her mind is spinning wildly. It seems as if the nervousness would get the better of her. Then however, her worn eyelids fall shut…

Back at the castle, Luna and Celestia seize their spell. Their horns loose their glow, and revert back to their normal states. Both sisters seem suddenly very fatigued, but manage to remain standing tall, with the royal sense of dignity still very much prevalent.
Dr. Matuszek, Hartfield and the mane five open their eyes. What had happened? They see the orb, still spinning, hanging in the air. As the gleam begins to grow weaker and weaker, the sphere contracts a progressively reddish tone.
With one, thong-like sound, it shatters, scattering thousands of smouldering pieces of red glass raining down. Not one of them manages to reach the ground.

Once the orb had cleared itself as fast as it had appeared, the onlookers notice the three dozen men lying unconsciously on the field, each having collapsed on the spot. Solely Twilight Sparkle is still standing, her head sunk in a deep sleep)

·Celestia: By the fates, Luna. It worked…

·Luna: It did, because you trusted me.

·Celestia: Oh, how couldn’t I?

·Matuszek: Your Highness… What has happened?

·Luna: They are in a deep slumber. Thou shan’t worry, they will wake up soon. However, they bear no danger for thy and our lives anymore. We shall let thou go to your homeland as soon as possible.

·Celestia: We do not want to assume the role of the captors. You have tried to do what you perceived as the right thing. It may not have been your fault, and apart from that, this may have to be explained to your kings and queens.

·Hartfield: Will the men be also allowed to go?

·Celestia: There is no reason why we would want to keep them here.

·Hartfield: Then we have to take care of them. They couldn’t just be left there. They may need medical attention.

·Celestia: Do not fear. Your men will be cared for. *to the captain* Make your pegasi ready to bring those soldiers away from the castle.

·Matuszek: *after a little pause* Your Highness, can I ask you a question?

·Luna: Certainly.

·Matuszek: I have, and with that I am certain to speak for Mr. Finch as well: I have seen the great wonders and miracles of this land, which is positively not comparable with any other place on this planet.
This nation is a treasure. Speaking culturally as well as scientifically, it is unique on this planet. There is no other way to put it. I am afraid that if we, in our duty as diplomats of the United Nations, would leave your nation at this point, our worlds may never become acquainted on good terms.
I know that our visit was tainted by a row of unfortunate occurrences and misunderstandings, but I can assure that, if Your Highness would still find the time to conclude the diplomatic negotiations, we will try our hardest to do so on a good note.

·Celestia: Do you mean that you would prefer to stay? Even after the woeful conditions that have reigned here in the last hours?

·Matuszek: As a representative of the UN, I say that it is of utter importance to arrange a basic compromise to clear all initial differences between our worlds.
However, as a pedagogue and a liberal person, I decide to stay because I bear a deep trust on Your Highness’ honesty and cherish a strong prospect that cooperation can be achieved.
In the end, it is still the personal choice of Your Highness, though personally… I would select this course as the one of action.

(Celestia looks at her. Her eyes, still weak from the spell, wander from Dr. Matuszek to her sister Luna. Then, to the mane five. They look back at her with faces heavily anticipating her own reaction. Her sister smiles at her)

·Luna: Trust. My dear sister.

·Celestia: *bearing a mild smile, turning back to Dr. Matuszek* Please, doctor. You can call me Celestia.

·Matuszek: *performing a curtsy* The favour is on our side.

·Hartfield: Please, Your Highness. What will happen to the men? They may be in need of assistance!

·Celestia: Ah yes. *looks one more time out into the field, then immediately at her captain of the guard* Captain. Make sure that all humans are brought to the Ponyville Nursehoof Hospital at once.

·Captain: *surprised* Yes? Of course, your Highness. *to the others* Company, you heard it; move out!

---------

·McIntyre: My position; *sighs* a bed. Over.

·Benson: A bed, sir?

·Menendez: A bed?

·McIntyre: *beat* A… ehm, a sickbed. Over…

·Benson: Sickbed, what? Where are you? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Well, mainland area H#12. *groans*
I apologise. Just, my head feels like a balloon filled with hot water. Over. I hardly remember…

·Benson: Sir, please clarify: You are in Area H#12… in a sickbed?

·McIntyre: *beat* Affirmative, Benson. We are being held up settlement #A, and are currently ‘hosted’ in the local hospital. Over.

·Benson: Are there casualties? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Let me put it like this; most of the units are not under arms at the moment. One case of broken limbs, one bullet wound through friendly fire, though no fatalities, so far.
With that said, we fell victim to a collective, non-lethal attack. The details are… nebulous. All units, including me, were caught in it.
We can hardly stand up now. But that, so we were assured, is just a temporary condition.
Now, the facts are these: We were moved to the hospitals by decree of their head of state, personally. Can you believe that?

·Benson: Clarify ‘They’, sir. Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* The bloody horses, that’s who. Over.

·Benson: And the horses have a hospital? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat; wearily* Yeah, they have a medical centre of a sort. But not the modern variety, per se. I would say, 19th century, Nightingale. Over.

·Benson: Are you actively treated, or are you being detained there by the enemy? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Well, we were detained here, at least. When I came to my senses, I was informed that we were disarmed and prisoners of war. That was three hours ago. Now, not one hour ago, this state of us was officially lifted. They said that an… ehm… a local cease-fire as well as an ‘extraction allowance’ agreement was negotiated.

·Benson: By whom? By which authorities? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* The diplomats of the UN, in the name of the Australian Government. Yes, it was a bit confusing.
Oh and yes, we did manage to locate the diplomats’ position yesterday. They were being held up at the local seat of government, allegedly as a reaction to the SAR-mission. Over.

·Benson: And, well, how is the treatment? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Shameful. Seriously, they behave like they’ve never treated fleshwounds before. Mind you, my own corpsmen are doing their part already. Over.

·Benson: Right, sir. Now, have you been saying that there is an official allowance for the extraction of your contingents? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* I’m saying that it is not only that, but a temporary, unilateral proposal for a prolonged ceasefire, and that I am talking to you right now to provoke a validation from the Australian government. Over.

·Benson: Is Mr. Donathan Finch nearby, perchance?

·McIntyre: *beat* Oh sure, he is in the same ward. He is a bit beaten up. But he’s listening. One moment. *sounds* He says that there should be no more hostile military movements, and never anymore unheralded ones. *sounds* And that this government’s position is neutral and pacific. *listens* That they apologise and take credit for all casualties on our side *listens* And that Mordor would be better off complying with that armisitce. Ehm, over.

·Benson: The message will be forwarded immediately, sir. Everything is affirmative. Lastly though: Are you and your men definitely out of danger? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Affirmative, Benson.

·Benson: Is the target persons of the SAR Winter Dew out of danger? Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Yes. Affirmative.

·Benson: And the situation is, tactically as well as politically, neutral?

·McIntyre: *beat* Yes, Benson, yes! Now get some proper medics over here. And the Australian government, too. Don’t forget: Settlement #A.
I need my rest, now. Over.

·Benson: Yes, sir. Out…

·McIntyre: *quickly* Wait! One more thing. A notice passed on from one of ‘em horses. Says that one should contact the… the UK Ministry of Defence. Message reads; “To Cpt. Jack Harkness” – H-A-R-K-N-E-S-S:
“Doctor here. Back rather quickly. Am little bit confused; this is the same planet?! Fascinating.
ps: Still not ginger.”
Can you, ehm, possibly forward it, then?

·Benson: I… it can be arranged, sir. Over.

·McIntyre: *beat* Right. Out!

(Concluding Music Cue)

19. Epilogue

Epilogue – Nursehoof Hospital, Ponyville

·Benson: *beat* Affirmative. Benson out.

(McIntyre puts the speaker back onto the bulky device to which it is connected, and lays back down into his sickbed. It is slightly smaller than usual, but that doesn’t concern him too much. He looks around. To both his right and his left, some of the more awake soldiers have crowded around him and the radio, puffing and sharing cigarettes and silently judging the situation in their heads. Most of the others, however, still lie wearily in their own sickbeds, only waking up now from their deep sleep. One or two rows from McIntyre’s bunk, Finch sits upright in his bed, re-reading the last pages of “The Lost World”, utterly trying to ignore McIntyre)

·McIntyre: *to the soldiers around him* Right, you heard Benson, guys. We’ll be going home soon, extraction crew is coming. We are technically not POWs anymore, so you could technically get some fresh air outside. If anyone still feels sick or lame, complain to someone else. Technically.

·Soldiers: Aye, sir. *they scatter. Some have a good stretch and then make their way out the rather sizeable infirmary ward*

·McIntyre: *grimly looking over to Finch* I hope you are happy now, Mr. Finch.

·Finch: Happy? *closes his book shut, and looks at him menacingly* Why I get the feeling that you lust for blood, McIntyre?

·McIntyre: What is that supposed to mean?

·Finch: We both are lying in hospital beds in a foreign subcontinent, completely isolated from the rest of the world, with a substantially unique ecosystem and civilisation, while one of us was nearly shot to death by members of the same expedition while the other one was nearly killed by a supposed blockbuster, and two diplomats almost single-handedly managed to avert a war on a global scale, preserve their lives, both of our lives and all in all still managed to complete the diplomatic talks.
And you little son of a bitch lie here and ask me if I were happy? Did you want war, McIntyre?

·McIntyre: I want acknowledgement for what I did was right. That I acted according to the standard international protocol. I don’t wish to sound melodramatically egocentric, but…
My reputation is ruined. My career is gone.
Once we return to mainland, I will be put in front of an international inquiry board for causing an international incident, while trying to act to protocol, as well as to follow my own orders.
I just know this is how it will go for me. I mean, what will they do with accusing with her royal majesty, huh? One cannot blame an entire country, even when it is so obviously justified. Ah well, they can still send her a mellow ‘condemnation’… I, on the other hand, will receive the fist.
They will throw the books only at those who are in range.

·Finch: Don’t you get emotional with me, McIntyre. Would you have listened to me, you would probably not be lying here and complaining in the first place!

·McIntyre: You nearly broke my damn nose! You call that a friendly advice?

·Finch: No, I don’t. *realises his perhaps irate behaviour* That was… the heat of the moment. But can you understand what pressure I was in? Inside that castle, one regent’s peaceful talking session was suddenly being overturned by that rabid sister of hers. First that one tries to hide us, then the other one tries to have us arrested, and then our own escort nearly shoots the whole place apart. And then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, a jet or two fly by, nearly bombing the roof away from over us. I hear you coming, try to escape out of their grasp to warn you, in order to end this whole madness, and… get machine-gunned as a result. Perhaps, yes, I was a bit under heat...

·McIntyre: You can add my day as well. Biting my fingernails out from ten in the morning, hoping, no… praying the plan B would not come into effect. And then, your lift indeed did not return. Something had happened.
That meant I had to ring up a dozen agencies in- and outside the country (Mordor, UN, Pentagon, Whitehall, name what you will), organising the deployment permission, getting the forces into to the base, rounding up the pilot cadets, receive the foreign observers, appeasing people above and under me, and lastly getting all the aircraft out of the hangars. It is a logistical and bureaucratic nightmare!

·Finch: Speaking of “Something had happened”; where is our air crew from yesterday morning?

·McIntyre: Well, you know that one of them we found in a forest with a broken foot. And concerning the other two: that blue horse with that 80s cut mentioned that they were imprisoned somewhere else… Main thing is they were alive the whole time, too. I guess they will be brought here anytime soon, then.
Which is good. Perhaps they know who fired that first shot…

·Finch: Ah… Well, as I said… I will definitely apply as a witness for testimony.

·McIntyre: You bet; you’ll have to, anyway.

·Finch: Even if I don’t have to, I will come. After all, I am quite interested myself in how this will end. *looks at the radio* How did you contact the mainland, anyway? I thought this area was out of bounds for all radio connection or something.

·McIntyre: It was that purple horse with the horn. She proposed to ‘repair’ the thing. She came back a minute later, with a fully ‘repaired’ receiver. I don’t know what she did. I don’t know how she did it. But it works now, so I won’t question anything.

·Finch: Fascinating.

·McIntyre: Isn’t it? Speaking of which, what exactly was wrong with that fully grown mare’s mane hair?

·Finch: Who? Princess Luna? Or Princess Celestia?

·McIntyre: Dunno, both of them. What was… that? *gesturing the hair on his own head*

·Finch: Maybe it was an optical illusion of a sort. You know, a ‘Glass Noodle’ effect…

·McIntyre: A what?

·Finch: Well, the hair is maybe transparent, and then it waves in the wind, and sunlight falls on it, and… boof.

·McIntyre: Aha…

·Finch: I am generally amazed by the peculiarities of this world. There are so many of them that all my rational explanations simply cannot… keep pace.

(The doors open, and the princesses enter the room, closely followed by their bodyguards, the mane six and Dr. Matuszek and Mr. Hartfield)

·Twilight: Good morning, Mr. Finch.

·Luna: Good morrow to thee, Donathan Finch.

·Celestia: I hope you have recuperated over the night.

·Doctor: Unfortunately not yet, your Highness. One of the human medics said that he must be transported back to a human hospital for more… specialized… treatment. You must understand, we have never treated a human before.

·Celestia: Oh. If that is so, I wish your wounds will heal fast.

·Finch: Thank you, Your Highness. *looks at Matuszek and Hartfield* I have heard that the conciliation had a positive conclusion.

·Hartfield: If I may judge so, Your Highnesses, it was a success. Apart from negotiating peace between us, we have also declared that all prisoners of war are to be returned to their respective countries. If the confirmation from the government of Australia, peace will be secured for a long time.

·Matuszek: And apart from that crisis, the UN proposal considering the cooperation between our civilisations has been successful as well. Shared sciences, education and politics. I can say with great relief that our first steps together, although treacherous and unpredictable, but presented us with the directions for a peaceful trod.

·Luna: Hear hear. We have deeply believed in the good of man, and have continued to do so for the last centuries, whether in regency or in exile. Although we may have been not aware of all the encounters between Equine and Man, which regularly ended in calamity due to the… unpreparedness of both groups’ parts, we have kept up the dire hope of concurrence.

·Celestia: I believe that I have to apologise for my mistrust. I confess that my deeds were heavily warped by the leaden curtain of a dark past. It was not justified and against the very principles of Equestria. *looks at Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash* Compassion and Loyalty – two of the most important elements of the Equestrian philosophy. It was a certainly hard lesson to be learned, even for a regent.

·Fluttershy: Sometimes, all we need to do is to be faithful in the good will of others.

·Pinkie: Oh! Oh! And to laugh the dark and unknown in its dark and unknown face.
I mean not literally, because if it’s dark and unknown, then how do you know where it’s face is? What would you be laughing at then, huh?

·Celestia: That is true, Pinkie Pie. An enormous amount of faith brings this capability about. It is a lost art in its own right.

·Luna: However, Celestia, the art exists in the ability of not only remaining positive in the face of the unknown, but also in the controversial.

·Celestia: How so? What do you mean?

·Luna: *to the door* Please, you can come in now.

(Instantly, Octavia emerges from behind the infirmary double door, however still bearing a very unsure expression)

·Pinkie: Hey, Octy! How is life?

·Octavia: *falling on her sister’s neck* Pinkie! You are not hurt?

·Pinkie: Nah, I’m way too busy for that sort of claptrap.

·Matuszek: Oh, Ms. Strings, isn’t it? How are you doing?

·Pinkie: “Strings”, Octy?

·Octavia: It… it’s just a stage name. I just didn’t think “Octavia Pie” was very… poignant. *to everyone* Please, call me Octavia Pie.

·Applejack: Octayvia. Where have ya been? We wer’ wurried sick, y’know.

·Luna: Octavia came straight to me, to report of the occurrences in the woods.

·Rarity: But when did she arrive?

·Luna: A little bit after noon. She had been very fast. She said that it was very important and that We had to know all about it.

·Octavia: Yes… I first wanted to tell her all about the visitors. But Princess Luna knew all about it, already. Then I told her how Fluttershy and Rarity had found and treated a completely different human from Everfree Forest. How he said that he was a soldier, and tried to put a fight with Rarity, and then even hurt Pinkie. But I also told Princess Luna how scared he was, and how uncertain his attitude had been. I could never forgive him hurting Pinkie, my sister, but I still felt a little sorry for him.

·Celestia: Luna. Are you saying that you knew what had happened? You knew that humans were attacking ponies?

·Luna: No, Celestia. I knew that one frightened, wounded human tried to struggle with the ponies who had found and cared for him. I was not being immediately decisive on what his intentions were, or if this was part of a bigger event. I wanted to find out for myself.
Call it lack of creativity, but I am usually very accurate about finding proof for such facts since… you know when.

·Celestia: It is a lesson that one has to learn, better sooner, *sighs* than later. *to Octavia* And what concerns you, Octavia…

·Octavia: Yes, Your Highness?

·Celestia: I have always known you as a dreaded, exceptional musician and philharmonic virtuoso. But that you are a pony of such pragmatic thought and open heart, I did not. You have shown bravery and intuition in the face of the strange and awkward.
The mourning about your sister’s fate is, although genuine and heart-felt, has not stopped you from doing the right and most sensible thing. To tell only the truth, and the full truth at that, to someone you did not even know very well. Perhaps the same someone who had been among us known only as a creature of the dark, my sister. However, you did know that she was both honest and sensible, and that she could be entrusted with such information, as we all learned yesterday and now.
Also that *she winks at Applejack* is an element. Yet, you do not represent an element of harmony, like your sister. It is a shame, as you do deserve a reward.

·Octavia: Thank you, Princess Celestia.

·Celestia: *turns to Finch* And the same would also apply to you, Mr. Finch. Your valor in the face of danger and the risk of possible failure, and thus your decision to put all one’s eggs in the basket is quite remarkable in its own right.

·Finch: *humbly and uneasily* Thank you very much, Your Highness. *small pause* However, I am afraid that I cannot accept the honouring.

·Luna: Whyever not, Donathan Finch?

·Finch: As a subject and a member of the diplomatic service of Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth II, it would be highly tendentious to accept extralocal honourings. Nevertheless, I feel deeply honoured by the proposal.

·Celestia: It is a shame that this is the philosophy of your country, even though I understand why. *turns to the others* And apart from that, it is never bad to hold on to the own principles, even if confronted with the Uncharted.

·Finch: Yes, the Uncharted. *taps his book in irony* How true it is.

·Celestia: What book is it that you are reading?

·Finch: Oh, this is a book called “The Lost World”. It is about a group of explorers who discover a completely isolated habitat, untouched by the outer world for millions of years. *grins* It was too tempting a pun to make.

·Celestia: And how does the story end?

·Finch: Well, it ends with the explorers surviving the new world, and returning to their country as famous and wealthy voyagers. The Terra Incognita is discovered for the rest of the world, and serves it from that day forth as a museum and a true treasure for most if not all fields of science. *he notices Dr. Matuszek’s worried face*
Still, your Highness, it is a part of the book I cannot consent with. Perhaps, Dr. Matuszek would like to tell you why.

·Matuszek: Your Highness, this is not the goal of our expedition. This country should not be treated as a treasure cove or a museum; it is a living witness, and should be looked upon with care and respect. Your world should have as much knowledge from ours as we do from yours.

·Luna: We have waited for a long time to hear such a proposal. While we still are very loyal to Equestria, we cannot help ourselves but be fascinated by the world beyond. There certainly is a lot to catch up to… We wished this were the only time this phrase would apply.

·Hartfield: What does Your Highness mean?

·Luna: It is a long story, Lucas Hartfield.

·Applejack: Wehl, looky ther’. It´s the camera guy, aint it?

(Everybody turns to Laukkinen, who migrates from bed row to bed row, filming the smiling and cheering soldiers, strongly cemented in the belief to have laughed death in the face themselves. Also Laukkinen, who had witnessed the moon spark spell first hand, is giddy as a schoolboy, talking to himself, as if he were narrating a documentary about what he had seen)

·Applejack: Hey, mister! Whah don’tcha lay off the camera and come over here? We’ve got plenny of stories to tell ‘ere! Penny to write up, dont’cha think?

·Laukkinen: *exasperatedly* Of course, just one moment, please. I will make these photos, too. I just want to document the whole mission *to the soldiers in their beds* Come on, you! Smile a bit, these photos will get sent home to your sisters’ cousins. Make a good impression.

·Hartfield: Uhm, I don’t think so, Laukkinen. Those are SASR. Nothing will get sent anywhere, alright?

·Laukkinen: Oh. What a shame. *he puts down the camera and gradually walks over to the others* Your Majesties, Mr. Finch, Ms. Matsuzek, Mr. Hartfield.

·Hartfield: I do hope that you have the recordings of the session with Their Highnesses.

·Laukkinen: *looks at the princesses* I… Well, you must understand that I had a lot to… digest. And, perhaps… I have, well not exactly ‘missed’, the second session.

·Hartfield: *drags out his pill box* For God’s sake, Laukkinen. You have not?

·Finch: Laukkinen, I though that I reminded you to do it!

·Laukkinen: Well, yes. Yesterday you did.

(The mane six, particularly Applejack and Pinkie, start laughing at the nearly comedical irony. Had they really come here and started so much trouble only to staring about such little things? Soon, also the to primncesses and Dr. Matuszek are stuck in the laughter, much to Finch’s and Matuszek’s annoyance)

·Finch: But it is protocol. And protocol isn’t funny.

·McIntyre: Yeah. Ha, who’s laughing now?

·Hartfield: *swallows his pills, nearly dropping them back out of his mouth after a giggle fit* This brave new world’ll be better having meds that are easier to… apply.

·Twilight: *enthusiastically* Oh but we do, Mr.Hartfield. The just aren’t always in pill form.

·Hartfield: Oh, really? What form do they come in?

·Twilight: *smiles, and shows him her horn, which becomes to shine*

·Hartfield: *quite ‘freaked out’* I’ll… think that I’ll better stay with those pebbles.

(Now everybody is laughing. The notion of such painful redundancy, in the wake of probably an entirely new era for the world, overcomes all ponies and people present.
Whether with or without new, magic-induced medical treatments, or manually regulated weather…
The real world had - finally - secured its hooks in the colour-rich soil of Equestria)

(Concluding Music Cue)

----------TO BE CONTINUED ----------

The Human Cast

Characters:

Donathan Finch – 48 – Charge D’Affaires of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and Permanent Representative of the United Kingdom to the United Nations (British Citizen). Member of the United Nations Department of Political Affairs. Leader of the Political Diplomatic Mission. He is usually striving to be very formal and moderately snarky, but can become overly stiff when his diplomatic stance is called for, making him rather bipolar. He does not relate too well to criticism from others.

Elke Matuszek – 36 – Doctor of History and Anthropology of the German Historical Institute of Washington D.C. (German and U.S.-American Citizen). Coordinator of the United Nations Cultural and Scientific Exchange Programme. Being curious as well as erudite, she spends her intellecto-idealistic knowledge on the exploration of her areas of interest. She is liberal and can adapt to foreign cultures quickly.

Lucas Hartfield – 45 – Career Minister of the United States Foreign Service (U.S.-American Citizen). Member of the United Nations Social and Economic Council. Leader of the Economic Diplomatic Mission. He is a veteran diplomat, with a deep wisdom for organisation and sees an economic aspect of any occasion. He is however utterly clueless when confronted with the extracurricular. He has some medical issues, which are another one of his restrictions.

Joona Laukkinen – 50 – Member of the United Nations Correspondent Association (Finnish Citizen). Affiliations with the BBC World Service and Reuters. Photographer and Documenter. He is a well-travelled expert on conflict coverage and environmental documentaries. However, his innate sense for his trade makes him prone to personal ventures.

FLGOFF John ‘Flogg Off’ Kinsman – 38 – Flying Officer of the Royal Australian Air Force (Australian Citizen). Senior Coordinator of the Aerial Operations. He is a lax commander, but has an extensive knowledge about theory (such as navigation and officers’ protocols).
• Flight Sergeant Henry ‘Locon’ Mallard. He is a veteran of the force, his experience is occasionally overshadowed by cynicism as well as his inability to maintain friendly relations.
• Sergeant David ‘Jane’ Eyre. He is moderately new in the force, hence his inexperience. He takes the military history of such missions as an example for his own actions.

Miriam Levin – 37 – Special Agent of the Bureau of Diplomatic Security (U.S.-American Citizen). Senior Coordinator of the Ground-Based Operations. She is a serious character who maintains an orderly but only strenuously sympathisable precaution.
• 5 Diplomatic Security Agents.

AVM Edmond McIntyre – 51 – Air Vice Marshall of the RAAF (Australian Citizen). The commander-in-chief and main coordinator of the promptly names “Operation Winter Dew”. He is a strongly mulish person, who will only rarely take advice from others below him. Nevertheless, he cherishes a fatherly attitude towards his men, and has a strong feeling of duty and the importance of any mission’s success.

1. A Bumpy Entree

Intro Scene – The Helicopter

“A Bumpy Entrée”

(Background Music Cue)

(An RAAF CH-47 Chinook Helicopter’s passenger section. Emergency Lighting gives a faint glim over the fairly dim metal-ribcaged, cable-packing hallway that is the interior. All characters and some flight crew personnel and DS Agents sitting in strapped camouflaged chairs, staring out of the intensely bright portholes at the gorgeous, colourful atmosphere outside. A camera aimed through a porthole stands attached to a bulky tripod. A man keeps adjusting it every few seconds.)

• Finch: *Wearing a bright blue security vest over his quintessentially formal dark grey business suit, packing a stack of document portfolios, he reads a small book* Doyle was right…

• Hartfield: *Sitting across of him, fumbling with his vest trying loosen it* Mr. Finch?

• Matuszek: *Sitting next to Finch across a porthole, skimming through a folder of medieval paintings, but eager for a conversation* What did you mean?

• Finch: I was just saying that Arthur Conan Doyle was right. I’m re-reading my copy of “The Lost World”. I knew it would be somehow useful in the future.

• Matuszek: Now that is one nice comparison. Yes, it’s very fitting…

• Hartfield: What is “The Lost World”? A Scy-Fy novel?

• Matuszek: Sort of. It’s a book about scientists who discover a prehistoric animal colony.

• Hartfield: Hell, that’s fitting. *Checks his watch and taps it* And the battery’s dying down again. Seems like this atmosphere is messing with my watch. *halts* Now that sounds just silly.

• Kinsman: *partially standing, hanging on to a ceiling railing* It messes up the instruments and compasses every single time we fly over this area. We have committed to maps a long time ago. We have no radio, no signalling. Only limited radio connection, but even that’s scarce. *hears his co-pilot calling and quickly heads towards cockpit* ‘cuse me…

• Finch: *shuts book, leans toward porthole* Just like Yorkshire. *grins* I swear to God, this looks like Yorkshire. Only this time in colour.

• Laukkinen: *peeps through his camera and wipes the lens* Say so, uh, but I have never… positively never seen landscapes like those. As if the colour tv-set was overworking. Bright and intensive sun and reflectings. Like, seeing the environment with a new set of sensitive eyes.

• Hartfield: Kinda like a totally different channel on TV. Or reality.

• Laukkinen: Moderate climate, needle tree forests,… like Europe, really.

• Matuszek: *Inhales and exhales audibly once; she wants to get to the point* Gentlemen, please. Let us focus on this task: *flips through her reference album* Listen closely to what I have listed in my portfolio: “Unicorns and Pegasi”, “The Fountain of Youth”, “Deities of the Sun and the Moon”, “Alchemism”, “Levitation and Teleportation”, “Mythical Serpentines and Reptiles of the Ancient and Medieval Ages” “Anthropomorphism in Eurasian Mythology”, “Stellar Constellations and Astrology”, “Greek and Roman Archeomythology”. *combs through her hair with her fingers* Can you please tell me what I just listed here?

(Finch and Hartman and Laukkinen and Kinsman look at her, are a little nonplussed)

• Finch: Dr. Matuszek?

• Matuszek: *persistently* Please answer my question. What have I just listed for you?

• Hartfield: *grins* reference material, Dr. Matuszek.

• Matuszek: That is exactly my point. *inhales and exhales once more before continuing* Let me recap our situation.

• Finch: Please, Ms Matuszek, contain yourself. Hyperventilation has been known to make people nervous…

• Matuszek: *uptight* Gentlemen; We are on a diplomatic assistance mission to a recently acknowledged – no, recently found – region of the earth. One that has been lost for nearly one millennium. One with an intelligent civilisation. And the reference material that I was issued on their societal structure and existence… is about horses with wings and horns.

• Hartfield: *wants to think of a witty and sarcastic remark* Mmmh… Yes.

• Finch: This is a great day for how we define reality, Ms Matuszek. Don’t spoil it. We had this trip in preparation for three years.

• Matuszek: But I only had one year, Mr Finch. One year of research and gathering old medieval Germanic prints, most of whom were considered outdated in the very time they were written. I have reasoned with myself before, you know. I have reasoned that I am a realist, a serious scientist who only strives to be the best, free of all prejudices and unserious beliefs. *ironic voice* But since three days, those times are officially over, as I stood in the UN and proudly declared to the … no. I cannot say it.

• Finch: Say it. The second time is always the hardest. I, for one, did it after taking valerian pills.

• Matuszek: *sighs, begins chanting the hypothesis* “We are to make contact with a society within a country isolated from the rest of the planet possibly for millennia. The population consists not of humans, but of evolved yet genuine members of the equines, living in a society to be considered of equal, if not superior maturity to that of most recognised nations. Many members have been considered mythological creatures for centuries, but had last genuine contact with the human society as far back as 700 years. The society has adapted traits and abilities that border on supernaturalism, evolved as direct result to geophysical aspects.”

• Finch: “The Lost World of Mythology”. Think about it. Other observant people had proven the existence of, say, Giant Squids, Okapis, Platypuses and the like. This… may be the biggest of such cases to date. We will re-write history.

• Matuszek: When you put it like that, it is still more than challenging. I find it, forgive my vocabulary, very moronic to ditch a group of diplomats in Terra Incognita only to add some spice to the first contact between two worlds.

• Hartfield: With all respect, Ms Matuszek, we are 15000 feet in the air, less than twenty minutes away from destination x. Are you really telling me that this is the right time to start doubting the logic behind this mission?

• Matuszek: Well, when have you started wondering about its logic?

• Hartfield: *scratches his chin* Let me put it like that, Ms Matuszek. I stopped wondering about it literally minutes before taking a seat riiight here *taps his seat in satisfaction*. I needed three sacred years to plan a routine. To get this whole mess of an idea to stop spinning around in my head and settle in the realism department. Planning and filing. It is virtually the only way I can make myself believe. Believe this, anyway.

• Finch: *to Hartfield* Really? I didn’t know that. I thought you were flexible.

• Hartfield: I am not allowing myself to be flexible for… claptrap. It would make me eccentric. And by God, I hate eccentrics. Are you an eccentric, Finch?

• Finch: *smiles calmly* No. As I said, I just took Valerian pills. And they will wear off in five to ten minutes.

• Hartfield: *jokingly* Well, then God save us all from you. *remembers something important* Speaking of which… *clumsily takes out a pill box, and presses the now open end against his hand palm. In order not to draw too much attention, he asks Dr. Matuszek* On the other hand… Ms. Matuszek; dunno if this makes it any better for you, but you may be interested to know that this isn’t the “first contact” per se.

• Matuszek: *freezes* I’m sorry? *Hartfield and Finch look at her with a hint of a snarky tranquility for a while; she understands* Before I start asking you why I didn’t know; Mr. Hartfield, you mean that we have communicated with them once before?

• Hartfield: Not quite… *removes some pills form the box, quickly swallows them and resumes to the conversation* we did however attempt communication. A helicopter located one of the horses and managed to attract its attention.

• Matuszek: An RAAF helicopter?

• Hartfield: No, RNZF. According to the pilot’s testimony, he landed it, and managed to approach the horse. In the beginning, he heavily relied on basic hand communication.

• Matuszek: *Um…* Basic hoof communication, you mean?

• Hartfield: *grins at the pun* I see what you did there. *harrumphs slightly* But the horse did understand! He then went a step further and carved a message into the earth. The horse was, he said, a little bit dumbfounded, but looked on, being all fascinated. Must have been a really awkward moment. He drew what he had seen from the helicopter: Fields, buildings, castles…

• Matuszek: *negatively surprised* A castle? That’s new to me. If that really was a castle, the equine society may be in fact closer to ours than I thought! Why hasn’t anybody told me about their dwellings?

• Finch: Ms. Matuszek, please…

• Matuszek: So what happened?

• Hartfield: The horse… *enjoys her envy* Get ready for that!

• Matuszek: *impatient* Yes?!

• Hartfield: The horse used it’s hooves, and drew a message back!

• Matuszek: Really? Wow, what kind of message?

• Hartfield: *Pulls a photograph from his coat pocket* See for yourself.

• Finch: One more reason to have signed the vow of silence.

• Matuszek: It’s… schön.

• Finch: I don’t know, it looks like a burning police car to me.

• Matuszek: Mr Finch, are you serious? This is definitely a horse’s head. With a horn. And a tiara.

• Finch: *points at the picture* How can you see all that?

• Matuszek: *smiles sarcastically* Firstly, it’s my job as a historian. And secondly, it’s probably because I’m a woman.

• Finch: Then what is that flaming stuff around the “head”?

• Matuszek. It must be its mane… a mane in the wind.

• Finch: Dramatic. Maybe it’s their community leader. A regent of a sort. Why else would it draw a tiara?

• Hartfield: That’s what the pilot also concluded. He drew an arrow to the picture, to symbolize that we would want to meet or approach her. He also described ten suns, representing the 10 days time when he intended to return. We, uh, relieved him off this task. Today would be the afore-mentioned meet-up.

• Matuszek: So it in fact is official? I wonder what will await us. Haven’t you ever thought what they might think we are? Also mythical creatures, perchance?

• Finch: Then we better make a bleeding good impression. Chin up, smile, don’t attempt sit on them…

• Hartfield: Yeah, and don’t tell ‘em what some of their friends do in our society. Very important. You see, my dad owned a horse ranch once.

• Finch: Yes, that’s really important. Ms Matuszek, You may be aware that some things in cultural and scientific exchange may be vital, but nevertheless not… appreciated. *symbolically scratches his cheek*

• Matuszek: *slightly appalled* Well, Mr Finch, I will mention what is worthy of mentioning, and that may still be my field of expertise. Thank you very much.

• Finch: Be my guest. But you simply do not have a comparable diplomatic experience.

• Hartfield: Finch, take it easy with her. Don’t you know what massive amounts of work I put into convincing her to come along…

• Matuszek: I’m doing it solely for the curiosity alone, Mr. Hartfield.

• Kinsman *emerges from cockpit* Ladies and Gentlemen, five more minutes. It may get shaky, the terrain is probably unforgiving! Fasten your belts and raise your feet a bit.

• Finch: Well… good Sirs and ladies. God speed… *sits up straight*

(Concluding Music Cue)

12. The Strictest of Deadlines

11. – RAAF Base Pearce, Western Australia

(It is 2 o’clock pm. The airfield of the generally quaint training base of the RAAF is bustling with aviational engineers, flight controllers and equipment-carrying soldiers as several jets and heavy transport helicopters and lightweight search planes are tugged onto the hamoc. About three dozen Marines assembled at the hangars, checking and stocking up their equipment kits one last time. A Land Rover convoy rolls onto the asphalt, and half a dozen orderlies and officers hop out, and run up to a designated spot at the foot of the flight control tower.
Inside the tower, navigational officers sit at their RADAR screens, enviously checking the panels for any signs of Flight 18-50-37, which was manned by three personell and which they knew had transported ten members of a UN-assembled diplomatic mission out into the sea.
Behind the navigators, Group Captain Andy White drains his thermos can of coffee. He feels duped. His airfield has been literally overrun. All he ever was told was “Winter Dew”. That was the codename for this mission.
Nothing more had he been told. Not about those guys below, and not about Area H#12. Never had he been told anything about Area H#12. It was his men that patrolled this area, but were nevertheless ordered to report directly to a representative of the Brass back in Canberra (also known as “Mordor”). He, on the other hand, was merely told something about possible “Violent Compass Variations” and Electromagnetic Radiation Occurences” that occurred from time to time in that restricted area, and those justifications usually kept him at bay; he was no scientist.
But from 5 am in the same morning, his stance had changed all the more. All those diplomats; calls for compliance from above the command chain...
And now, at 2 pm, the Brass had returned in a hurry; they brought along a couple dozen soldiers in full battle armour. “Deadlines” had been crossed by Flight 18-50-37. They should have returned at 9 am. They didn’t. Now they came back being all worried. White was growing sick and tired; he had to ask them. He had a right to know; it was his machinery, after all)

·White: *to his subordinate* I’m going down there, Morrison. *hands him the thermos flask*Hold on to this.

·Morrison: God speed. But they won’t say nothin’.

·White: *sarcastically* Right!

(He heads down the winding-stairs in a rush; he doesn’t want to miss the officers. He opens the glass terminal doors to see his superior, Vice Marshal Edmond McIntyre, another Group Captain, a Major, a Brigadier, an American Brigadier General and a British Rear Admiral pinning a big, yet rudimental map against one of the buildings’ outer walls. As he opens the door, the noise of a dozen plane turbines and lorry motors fills his ears, and the typical, grey dust blinds him and fills his nostrils. He is quick to approach the group with his back to the tarmac)

·White: *shouting over all the noise* Vice Marshal McIntyre, sir!

·Mcintyre: Good afternoon, White! *to the others* This is Group Captain Andy White, the commander of Pearce Base! *to White* I hope you know Group Captain Benson!

·White: Of course, sir! Afternoon, Benson!

·Benson: Afternoon, White!

·McIntyre: Our guests are Rear Admiral Sir Paul Wetherby of the RN and Brigadier General Arnold Menendez of the USMC!

·White: Afternoon, Sirs!

·McIntyre: And these are Major Atkinson of SASR and Brigadier Cartwright of the IRR!

·Atkinson and Cartwright: Afternoon, sir!

·White: *pretty impressed about the high-ranking figures* Afternoon!

·McIntyre: What is the matter, White?! Is it important?!

·White: I have a question, sir; Are you the Commander-In-Chief of Operation “Winter Dew”?!

·McIntyre: *beat* Yes, White. Why?! Is there a call for me?!

·White: No! Sir, can I speak with you tete-a-tete?!

·McIntyre: *turning to his staff* Excuse me! *to White* Of course, White! But make it quick, please!

·White: *motions for the doors* Inside, sir?!

·McIntyre: *slowly letting go of the map so the others could hold on to it* Yes!…

(Both re-enter the tower, and White quickly comes to the point once the glass doors shut behind them)

·White: Sir, it is about Operation “Winter Dew”. And about the ‘deadline’ and the fact that my machines have been brought out of their hangars without a formal statement…

·McIntyre: White, calm down. OAAA. I am in a hurry. I take the full the responsibility, right? You will have a formal statement in by Monday, I’ll vouch on that. *looks back at the door with the intent to get out of there*

·White: Sir, I require complete insight into the details of “Winter Dew”.

·McIntyre: *appeasingly* White. Do not worry about any of this. This is all going according to Mordor. You don’t even have to move a toe. I can say in the name of Air Chief Marshal Hunter that you are not liable.

·White: It isn’t about that, sir! The chain of command at my base has been circumvented for some twenty months, sir. Six of my units have been actively patrolling in that Area H#12, and I have not once been reported to. I have let it slide up to today. Then that diplomatic mission arrived today at 4 am in the morning. Without my prior knowledge, they boarded a Chinook and were flown over the coastline. I was there today, sir. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known at all! And now… *looks outside* SASR, sir? Pardon my language, but am I missing out on something?

·McIntyre: *eyeing around with a slightly embarrassed attitude* Let me be honest woth you, White. Yes, you are missing out of something. But here’s the thing; it is classified as “NATO Secret”. I hope you know what this means. I am not allowed to talk about it.

·White: “NATO Secret”, I see. So the NATO is involved in it.

·McIntyre: Exactly. It is big.

·White: Then what are my planes are needed for? This is a practice airfield.

·McIntyre: You were the closest.

·White: Right. What aircraft have you commandeered here?

·McIntyre: Lets see… *looks out the doors once more* Four Chinooks, 5 Pilatus PCs, 3 BAe Hawks, eight Lockheed Orions and 2 Boeing F/A Hornets. It’s a high-priority SAR situation covering more than 3000 hectares. That is all I’m going to say.

·White: *in serious disbelief* I am sorry? There is an officer of the SASR standing on my tarmac. You take four Chinook helicopters to deploy dozens of heavily armed soldiers. You require Hornets, Orions and and Hawks? This… has nothing to do with SAR anymore. You have deployed enough men to invade Monaco, sir!

·McIntyre: *negatively surprised by White’s audacity* I will not repeat myself, White. This operation is “NATO Secret”. It involves SAR; there are countless important persons’ lives at peril, and it is our duty to preserve them.

·White: *points outside, with the ocean in the background* There is nothing out there, sir! Five thousand miles of sea, nothing more! Where do those marines plan to land? The Antarctic Isles? Or is it maybe Area H#12?

·McIntyre: Oh shut up White! Quit shouting around. If you are really that interested in seeing your men in action *digs in his pocket*, this is where they are going. *he shows White a small, blurry sattelite photograph, depicting a european countryside, with farms, acres, beside some rows of reannaisance-like housing and a giant structure at the foot of a mountain. That structure strangely resembled a castle or a stronghold, or maybe a palace*

·White: *sarcastically* We take over Neuschwanstein?

·McIntyre: *unable to follow White* No… but this is our possible destination. We do not know how the habitants would react to an SAR mission intruding their airspace. The soldiers only serve the purpose of preventation.

·White: Where was this picture made? This is clearly mainland. And the countryside looks a lot like… I don’t know… Bosnia to me.

·McIntyre: *quickly packs away the photograph* I have already shown you too much, White. *sighs* What should I do with you? *thinks* Should I take you in protective custody until this assignment is accomplished?

·White: *with a faint smirk* I will then have to name the source of this information, sir.

·McIntyre: Right… I might have to ask you to accompany the men until further notice.

(There is a small pause of consideration and excitement)

·White: *giddily* Would that be possible, sir? Is it legal?

·McIntyre: Of course not, White. You should feel lucky I have told you anything. I usually don’t play the exposition fairy, you know.

·White: Certainly. Thank you, sir.

·McIntyre: Let us just say that you… assume an observational position, *smiling* seeing how your aircraft are involved.

·White: Yes, sir.

·McIntyre: *checks his watch* We will set out at 1450 hours, which is in… 42 minutes. Be there, White. You are now on alert and in action.

·White: Of course, sir!

(As McIntyre makes his way out onto the crowded tarmac again, White quickly motions to his locker in the other facility as outside, the first soldiers enter the still grounded helicopters and drain their flight medicines)

(Concluding Music Cue)