5:45 AM - Main Street

There are dozens of American Flags in the Magic Kingdom, and all of them are fake except one. Some are missing stripes, or stars, and are produced that way on purpose; it means that they are not subject to formal US Flag Code, and so do not need to be taken down at night or during heavy weather.

The one real flag sits in the middle of the square at the head of Main Street. Ackermann had pointed it out to some passing National Guardsman, and he was surprised to see a group of them take the initiative to go up to the pole and lower the flag down to half-mast, in concert with millions of other flags around the country.

In all, five hundred and ninety-four civilians had died as a result of the crisis. Ninety percent of that number were the result of the attackers or the stampedes to escape the parks. The remaining number were a product of medical conditions while trapped. Rescue crews were still scouring the park, looking for either civilians or enemies that were still in hiding, and any bodies that had been moved.

There was more than enough of the latter. Aside from the civilians, the streets had been littered with corpses, either those of soldiers that had died of wounds from the big battle, or those that had been cut down during the night. There were so many dead that the National Guard didn't know what to do with them all, and Ackermann was consulting them on where to find as much cold storage as the park could provide. It wouldn't be enough, of course, and there were already plans to simply burn the mountain of bodies that still littered the main bus terminal.

The living were another story. The American Red Cross had split up the park by building or area, and was rushing to evacuate those with the most critical needs first. Other groups were being attended to section by section, but all were provided with blankets, water, and warm food… probably the first time so many had eaten for free at the parks. Completed families were sent out to the docks for transport back to the field hospital at the Polynesian Resort. Separated Families were being assembled in Frontierland to be indexed and reunited… or informed of the bad news. There were worse fates, Ackermann supposed, like that of the fifty or so Imperial prisoners who had not died during the raid. These had been marched past the debris where the Gate once stood and, on realizing their situation, became despondent and empty. Some dropped to their knees and became unresponsive to anything. They were castaways in another world, never to see their homes or families again, and destined to receive all the ire of the nation that had beaten them.

Next to him, Captain Metzinger stomped out another cigarette and muttered something.

"What?" Ackermann asked.

"We had them. We fucking had them, and they were able to get away."

The old engineer shrugged. "You did kill thousands and thousands of them. Regardless of where they came from, I imagine they're hurting right now. For every person we lost, we killed a hundred of theirs. I'd say it's enough."

"Fuck that. I wanted to find the guy who ordered this attack and put his face through a wall."

As they watched, a series of big trucks reading DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY entered through the southern parade entrance, then turned north up Main Street in the direction of the hub. "You might still get your chance," Ackermann pointed out.

"It's a crapshoot," Metzinger said. "It was impossible to figure out how the Gate worked from pictures. They'll spend a month picking through the debris, throw up their hands, and dump it all in some desert Air Force base until they have the time or tools to mess around with it later. And the POWs probably have no fucking clue—someone who has the tech to make a warp gate wouldn't scout the other side with bows and swords. Unless another one opens, or unless we hit some random breakthrough in the debris, this is a dead end."

Ackermann nodded. In a way, he preferred for things to end this way. If the Rangers had captured the Gate, the Magic Kingdom would have almost certainly closed for good. Metzinger seemed to realize this too. "You get your park back, at least. How long do you think it will take them to get everything up and running again?"

"Once everyone clears out?" Ackermann looked around again. "Most of the damage to the park was slight, and I haven't heard anything wrong about the rides. To retrain personnel and patch the broken facades… a month or two?"

"Really? That's it?"

"Probably less if we put some partitions up. I'll bet that by the time we hit the Christmas season, everything will be back to normal."

"Won't Disney take a huge hit?"

"Sure, but Marvel and Lucasfilm will make up for it eventually. Replacing what we lost won't be the problem. The real problem is how long it will take for people to come here and not think about everyone that died. This is a theme park, you know. Not a cemetery."

"Yeah," Metzinger muttered. "Took a while for Lower Manhattan to feel 'normal' again, and some folks I know had similar feelings about the Pentagon."

Ackermann nodded. "So what now?"

"Now? Now we clear the remaining civilians and POWs out of here, spend about a week collecting everything the Imperials left behind, and then as long as the DoE needs to finish up with the Gate."

"I wish there was more I could do to help."

"Is there anything you'd like to do?"

The old engineer looked up and down the street, thought about it for a little while, then said, "I'd like to get the power back on. It stinks to see everything dead like this."

Metzinger nodded and said, "I bet the guys would be happy for the indoor lighting. Come with me, let's see if we can do something."

The Captain began to turn to walk back up Main Street when Ackermann asked, 'Where are you going?"

"Aren't the Utilidors entrances this way?"

Ackermann grinned and pointed back over his shoulder. "There's a closer one in the back of Tony's."

Metzinger snorted. "Guess I'll never know all the tricks of this place."

"Well, yeah," Ackerman said, 'Then it wouldn't be magic, would it?"

6:00 AM - In Front of Liberty Tree Tavern (Restaurant)

Looking at Emily in her Mylar blanket and sipping a cup of hot cocoa, Ethan was convinced that the hardest part was finally over.

As they had promised, the Special Forces had dealt with Helm, then sent a group medic to look over them both and usher them to a safe spot to wait out the remaining fight. It took nearly another hour, but ultimately it was not a SEAL who returned, but an Army Ranger, who identified himself and took them back aboveground.

There, it was if a complete cast-change had taken place. The Roman-like Imperials and their monsters had gone, and the streets had switched from being virtually empty to packed with Red Cross workers, EMTs, police officers, and National Guardsmen. The Rangers hadn't left either—the military had created a shoulder-to-shoulder perimeter around the Gate, the last thing that anyone was still unsure of.

After being fed, blanketed, and checked in, the only thing left to do was wait.

From where they sat, they could see across the river to Tom Sawyer's Island. They had started their stay under twelve hours ago, and yet it felt like they had spent an eternity over there. For a place that he had dismissed as 'boring' and having no attractions, it has sure as hell kept them occupied for quite a long while. He wondered what it would be like to go back there without the threat of death hanging over their heads… or if he could even bear doing so.

Emily tugged on his shoulder and pointed. A group of Navy SEALs had just emerged from the Hall of Presidents, one of them carrying a rolled up circular rug. Ethan didn't understand why they were, but he did feel like he had unfinished business. "Hey, Em," he said, "I'm going to talk to them for a moment. You'll be able to watch me the whole time. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

His sister nodded, and Ethan jogged off in their direction. As he approached, he heard the muttered banter between the men.

"McKenzie, which is your favorite Disney Princess?"

One of them jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, "That'd be you, Lopez."

"Hey, um—" Ethan said, causing them to stop in the middle of their snickering and look at him.

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you for helping us—me and my sister—earlier," he said, "So… thank you."

Perhaps if they were Disney actors, he would have gotten a whole spiel about bravery and courage and whatnot, but wasn't a group of actors before him. The SEALs exchanged glances, some with rueful grins, before one said, "Uh… yeah, sure thing!"

Deciding it best to leave it there, Ethan smiled, gave a nod, then turned around and walked away. What was I thinking? Is that really all I could say?

But then, the one that had responded didn't seem any more magnificent. Maybe they hadn't known what to think either. In a way it mirrored his own experience. You deal with what you encountered to the best of your ability.

Nearly back, he saw Emily look up from her cup, eyes wide, then go sprinting off towards the west. Even after that, she's still running off, he thought, then, following her direction of travel, finally saw what had spurred her reaction.

His parents. Both of them.

And so, just like at the start, Emily ran, and Ethan ran after her.

6:30 AM - In front of the park

It was different for the Cast Members than it was for the guests. Katie still received initial care from the Red Cross, but once she had convinced them that the blood on her dress wasn't hers, she was sent along to the offices in the Utilidors where she was identified and checked by Disney's Human Resources department. Members of the FBI were there too, trying to gather details from anyone who might have overhead useful information on the invaders. Enough of the other staff members from the Royal Table restaurant had identified her that she received a brief, private interview and, after telling them a list of names and roles, they assured her that they would contact her again for an extended discussion, and to write down as much as she could remember the moment she got home.

As for that, Disney staff were to take shuttle busses from the Ticket and Transportation Center back to the staff overflow parking lot. With the bus terminal closed and monorail inoperative, there was no other option but to take one of the ferries across the Seven Seas Lagoon.

All of this was a blur to Katie though. She stumbled her way through the front gates of the park, the blue ball gown long since replaced by a t-shirt and shorts, not really aware or caring much about what was going on around her. Indeed, as she emerged from the tunnels, she stopped. The once-pristine entry area was a torn up mess; its gardens trampled, its security checkpoints upended, its concrete walkways raked by canyons and craters torn up by helicopter missiles and machine gun fire. Somewhere off to the east, National Guardsmen in gas masks and other biohazard gear were dumping fuel upon an enormous pile that she could not see—that she did not wish to see—as they waited for the second conflagration of the day. In the dim twilight silence, the park felt cold and dead.

Her thoughts were still on Lyla. Sandy had warned her not to get too close, and she hadn't listened. She couldn't help but think that if she had done something differently, the girl would still be alive. Failing that, she could have at least never put such a preposterous idea into Lyla's head. In real life, princesses didn't stand up for what they believed in—they stayed in their room, in their castle, away from swords, and soldiers, and all those other nasty things that the world longed to escape. Lyla must have known that, so why…

...why was she smiling in the end?

Katie shifted her pocketbook on her shoulder, and just as she was about to make her way to the ferry dock, a sound caught her ear. At first she thought she was hearing things… a whistle?

No, a flute.

One by one, the lampposts in the entry area began to flicker on, slowly spreading their light from the monorail station, to the ticket booths, the security stands, and ultimately sweeping over her head to the train station above.

There, mounted atop the gate to the Magic Kingdom, she saw a plaque; the same one sits somewhere on every Disney park around the globe.

HERE YOU LEAVE TODAY

AND ENTER THE WORLD

OF YESTERDAY, TOMORROW

AND FANTASY

Around her, When You Wish upon a Star began to play.

She had forgotten, she didn't understand when it had happened, but for a moment she had, and it had nearly destroyed her. Disney World wasn't about reality. It was a place of dreams. It was a place where you could ignore the sorrows of the world outside, where the good guys won not because they were powerful but because they were just, where for a day you could venture into space, or explore a wilderness, or talk to royalty.

It was a place where, for five seconds, a peasant girl could believe that she had gotten the thing she wanted most.

Disney World is a collection of fakes. Fake castles, fake princesses, fake kingdom, but the emotions it could generate were real. Happiness, excitement, hope.

As an actress, she was part of that.

Katie let her hand drift into her pocketbook and touched the Amulet of Elange buried at the bottom. Perhaps the magic wasn't gone from this place after all.

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Italica, Falmart

The Calamity beyond the Gate was the single worst military defeat incurred by the Saderan Empire in generations. Of the Sixty-five thousand men that had been sent through, about three thousand returned. Three hundred of these died of wounds. Of the survivors, sixty were junior officers. Of the twenty nobles that had gone through the Gate, only one had returned.

Arguably, less than one.

Colt Formal had been bedridden for three weeks, and had nearly died of blood loss and infection. The surgeon ultimately took his right arm, and once he regained consciousness the phantom limb still gave him periodic spikes of pain, the missing hand still trying with muscles and nerves that were no longer there to hold on to the fleeing horse. It hadn't been successful in that regard either—he had slipped off the moment he was back in Alnus and had broken his other arm, hip, and four ribs. It was only by some miracle that he hadn't broken his neck as well.

As a result, he was one of the last of the survivors that was interviewed about the experience beyond the Gate. Colt struggled through the pain to recount everything to the best of his abilities. It took nearly a dozen sessions—he fainted in agony halfway through the first two.

His Interviewer, Diabo El Caesar, the Second Prince of Sadera, was thankfully very patient, and listened to everything he had to say. Colt had been worried that his stories of themed parks and roller-coasters and green-eyed monsters would be seen as the ranting of a madman. Fortunately, Diabo had already interviewed plenty of junior officers who recounted the same things and was willing to accept them as truth. As Colt concluded his story, Diabo looked up from his quill and parchment and said, "All things considered, I suppose we should be thankful that you shut the Gate before these Americans were able to capture it. Our losses are bad enough as they currently stand. I can't begin to imagine what an all-out war with these people would have been like."

"Do the others agree with you?" Colt asked.

"My father does. My brother and half the Senate do not. They want revenge for what they see as a military embarrassment. It would not be entirely out of the question for them to open another Gate, perhaps to somewhere else on that world. Even with your testimony, it's going to take some effort to convince them out of it."

"Hmm…" he pointed with his remaining hand and said, "Aurea, would you mind?"

The maid jumped up from her chair and hurried to bring over a platter of Colt's personal possessions. From these, Colt drew one of his two souvenirs from the other world, a tube made of material unlike any seen in the Empire before. "I spoke of this in my story, right? Here, examine it."

Diabo walked over, accepted the implement from Colt and said, "This is the 'pen', right?"

"Correct," Colt said. "Looks simple enough on the outside, right?"

"Indeed."

"Very well, uncap it."

Diabo did so, and much as Colt did over a month ago, he examined the intricacies of the ball-point. "A fascinating device," he said.

"The lands beyond the Gate are much like that," Colt explained. "Simple enough on the exterior, but hiding a whole world of complexity within, and a power and capability that will take us time to understand or match… time that we don't have. Before the Senate wishes to try again, before they attempt to get more men slaughtered… please show them that pen."

Diabo pocketed the pen and gave him a polite bow. "We shall see what they think. I wish you a speedy recovery."

Colt nodded in return, and the Second Prince departed.

It was with some irritation that Colt noticed that the Prince had left the door to the room open, and he was about to ask Aurea to go close it when he noticed the light hair and big blue eye peeking in from the hallway. "Myui?" he said, "Is that you?"

His youngest daughter stuck her head around the door, and her father waved at her to come in. Of his three children, Myui was the only one still living under his roof, so she visited him the most often. The other two were still reeling over the loss of their husbands, Counts Missna and Roen, and were heavily occupied with managing the affairs of the domains they had been left with. He had been unconscious when he had been brought home the first time; that was another small miracle, as on seeing his broken body Myui had supposedly cried her eyes out. He was thankful that he didn't have to witness that.

Colt couldn't help but grin as she settled in next to him on the bed. Well into her tenth year, she was in that amusing age where little girls were still making up their minds as to whether or not they wished to fight with the boys or pursue a courtly, ladylike character. She had asked for both tea serving and business lessons in the past. Thankfully, no sword lessons; Colt didn't want to think of his daughter going to war, and with his right arm lost to the Americans, his fighting days were firmly behind him.

"Running from Kaine again?" He asked her. The head maid was not her primary teacher, but she was her primary disciplinarian.

"I don't like natural philosophy," Myui said. "What's the use in it?"

Colt raised an eyebrow. "On the far side of the Gate, everyone knows Natural Philosophy. They use it to build machines that push both imagination and believability, but there they were."

Myui gave a wry grin. "Now can you tell me the story of the other side of the Gate?"

Colt thought about it. He had been holding off until after he had fully recovered, but he figured that he had been bedridden long enough… and he would have liked to tell the story just once more.

"Very well, but not here. Let's go out to the gardens. This room is getting stuffy. Aurea, send for my chair."

The maid brought over a wheelchair, and together the three of them left the manor for the hall's gardens.

Compared to what he had seen at the Magic Kingdom, his gardens, often considered a jewel of the city, seemed less grand. What he valued from it now was not its scope, but its tranquility. It was a calm place, and everything from his duties and fighting could be left behind here to focus on personal concerns.

One such personal concern was a tree by the edge of the garden, where a small marble slab had been set, and was being looked over by another one of the maids.

On seeing them approach, the maid rose, curtseyed, and asked, "Anything you need, m'lord?"

"Not particularly. I just wanted to check up on you… and her."

Persia nodded, her cat-like ears falling in conjunction with her mood. "Madame Kaine asked me to see to the gardens today. I… I thought I should see how she was—" her voice cracked, "How she was doing. She was so thankful that she was working with you, you know, and our mother and father heard that she had earned the role they were so proud of her…"

Lyla El Scyanthall had ultimately been buried here, on the manor grounds, with her parent's permission. Colt had hoped that nothing of the sort would ever happen, but he had made some brief plans in case he or Lyla lost their lives on the far side of the Gate. In his own case, Myui would have become Lady of Italica with Kaine as her ward, but looking down at his daughter now he felt sick at how close he had come to that exact situation. What would she have done if Italica were pressed by political rivals or, worse, attacked by bandits?

As for Lyla, his plan was to ensure that her oldest sister, Persia, would be allowed into the maid staff at Formal Manor. It wasn't quite on par with the position of court mage, but it would ensure that Lyla's family remained fed, and show that he was taking responsibility for her passing. Even now, looking at the girl's grave, Colt was thinking about whether or not he could do more.

"Did anyone ever tell you the specifics of what happened that day?" he asked.

Persia shook her head. "I've heard only stories. It seems like a wild fantasy."

Colt gave an understanding nod. "Stories… looking back on it all, it was quite a fantasy wasn't it? I'll tell you now, if you'd like. It's a story of monsters and magic, kingdoms and castles—"

"And princesses?" Myui asked with a grin.

"Yes," Colt said. "Two of them."

THE END

"After all, if Itami could get Pina into Tokyo Disneyland, I'm sure the State Department could safely guide you through EPCOT."

—Carol Dawson, A Sky Full of Fire (2017)

Author's note:

Initially, I hadn't planned on writing any more Gate fiction, but I kept returning to this one joke on SpaceBattleForums and Discord about what would happen if the Gate opened in Disney World. Initially it stayed that way: just a joke. The thing was, as I found myself thinking more and more about it, I realized that Disney World is actually an interesting chance to present off-worlders with how Earth sees "magic" and "otherworldly" experiences. A reverse-Isekai into a fake Isekai, if you will. From there, I had considered including it as part of an anthology of short stories taking place between Thunder and Starlight. The anthology never materialized (one short, about a meteorite, is posted on SBF) but the Disney idea refused to leave. Ultimately, having realized that I never wrote a Gate invasion scene, I decided to go for a full novella.

And here we are! This work was heavily based on books like Jurassic Park by Crichton and Airport by Hailey, but also takes moments from Nylund's Halo books and, of course, the 1950 animated film Cinderella. It also heavily utilized maps provided by The Disney Blueprints Page (Ed on Flickr), and consultation with my old colleagues on The Palace and iEars Minecraft servers. As the old saying goes, "Write what you know", and I would not know as much without the experience of working and interacting with those people.

Finally, I would like to thank those of you who stayed with me through the whole story, and who took time to write reviews. It means a lot to me, and I hope that I have a chance to entertain all of you again in the future.

—8andahalfby11, 2019

As always, if you have lingering questions or just want to chat, feel free to PM me.