"First things first, you guys—If you ever pull shit like that again, I'm arresting both of you for treason."

The President's body was slowly fading to an outline against the dim light of the setting sun. Standing stark above the desk of the Oval Office, he looked almost like a bond villain. To be sure, a disconnect from his actual personality.

He stood and walked out from behind his desk and onto the stark white carpet that he himself picked out. With a jerk of his hand, he gestured at his three guests to sit on the white couch behind them. They all did so, the pony fluttering her wings to draw herself further in the air.

"Wait, wait, wait," the president interrupted, "Did you just flap?"

"Uh... yes?" Twilight responded, tilting her head.

"Those things work."

"Of course, why wouldn't..." Twilight let her voice trail off, briefly wondering if humans could disconnect their jaws when she saw the President's expression.

"You can fly?" Acone shouted, hand clutching his chest in case of heart attack.

"Not... not very well, but yes," the Alicorn responded, blushing in embarrassment. "I thought you would know."

"Why wouldn't she?" Marshal asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, seriously, isn't that less far-fetched than magic use?"

"She's–Gah, nevermind," the President mumbled, sitting opposite them. He turned his head towards the ceiling and spoke again. "Lights!"

Instantly, the room lit up. Twilight jumped in her seat. She was still getting used to that.

In the bright light, the room looked very different. The most obvious thing was how clean everything looked. Stainless steel desk, modernist white couches, white walls. The glass windows, each one long sheet that went from ceiling to floor, were held in place by stark white plastic. The only color in the entire room was the logo on the floor, and the portrait of a man with a funny hat on the wall.

"So. I understand that you can do some very powerful things if you had a fusion reaction, yes?"

The president leaned over, pressing his fingers together in anticipation of her response.

"Yes," Twilight replied, nodding, "But forgive me if I am a bit skeptical about what these two told me."

The president pulled a small glass rectangle from his breast pocket. "Gimmie a second..."

The rectangle started emitting light as he tapped on it. Seemed like everything did that in this place. Soon, though, his tapping ceased, and he turned the bright side towards her.

Twilight tilted her head. It was obviously some kind of video, but it wasn't interesting at all. Just a metal thing on a big stick. It was very low quality, too, grainy and...

"Oh Celestia," Twilight said, involuntarily. They had actually done it. That—that was either a fusion explosion, or a very convincing fake.

This wasn't in any of her preparatory material. This wasn't even discussed as a remote possibility. The very idea that they could have enough fissile material was, well, ludicrous. Nevermind how difficult it would be to mine or handle properly. But that had to be the real deal. They actually made explosions of this stuff.

In light of this fact, Twilight's problem was no longer if they could help with the Changeling problem. She had done a course on theoretical nuclear physics as part of her training. One of the throwaway extra-credit assignments was calculating the rough yield of a real fusion bomb. She, of course, had stayed up all night to solve it, and the final answer was astoundingly large. Just the threat of that much destruction would send that damned bug back to her hive, forever. Of course, at the time, she had scoffed at the very idea of using such a weapon. It was simply too dangerous, and too cruel.

Then she saw what the state their captured scouts were returned in, and she found herself wishing for the weapon instead of being afraid of it.

Now her only issue was convincing them to help Equestria out. She knew that there was a chance that they would turn on the ponies, but, frankly, she didn't really care. Anything was better than what that demon could do to a pony when she was hungry. Besides. She couldn't sense much magic in the world, but friendship... Well, that existed. Maybe not as much as in Equestria, but enough.

"Yeah," the President replied, tucking away the glass under his shirt, "we're the real deal. And we're nice guys. Willing to help. What kind of military capabilities do these, uh, change-a-lings have?"

"Just 'changelings,'" Twilight replied, reaching via magic into her saddlebag, "and, well, I have a full report. Here."

She pulled the relevant paper out of the bag, braced herself, and handed it to him. He looked it over.

"Ok. Real funny." The President held it out, for her to take it back. "What's the real one?"

"That... that is the real one," Twilight replied, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. What was she doing? She'd almost fainted when she saw those numbers. What kind of place...

"You're telling me that you guys want to–want to give us cold fusion, in exchange for defeating an army that has..."

The president pulled the paper up slightly, reading it again.

"...'Over seven thousand bronze spears, twenty thousand strong flying units with sharp fangs, and a rumored to hold at least ten pieces of gunpowder artillery?'"

Twilight nodded.

"You're a fucking liar," the President spouted, tossing the paper in her face. "You're a liar, and you're a bad one. No fucking way this is legitimate. You're actually insulting me with this? Are you stupid?"

Twilight just looked down, silently.

"I can't believe this. Jesus Christ," the President spat, looking away from her. "I should have you detained. Give it to me straight, or—"

"Hey!" Acone shouted. "Hey, el Presidente!"

The President blinked. Holy shit, somebody actually interrupted him. That almost never happened. Then again, Mr. Acone wasn't really one for respectful silences.

"Shut up for a moment and listen, ok?" Acone said, standing up. Even though he was only a few words into his monologue, his hands were working overtime, wildly flying in the air with gestures that enhanced the meaning of his vocalizations. "Look, she's a talking magic unicorn, right? So..."

He held both hands out as if pushing on something.

"Let's think about it like that. You got kids, right?"

"Yes," the President replied, not sure if he should be angry or amused. "Two daughters."

"They like ponies?"

"No, they like James Joyce. Of course they like ponies."

"They ever watch one of those cartoons 'bout 'em? There's like ten of the shows. You know the ones?"

"Yes."

"Well, think of those shows. They ever have violence?"

"No."

"Ever seen a hostage crisis or a terrorist attack? Any of that kinda shit?"

"Nope."

"And you never see 'em in cars or anything, do ya? You just see like, carriages and that sorta thing. You know?"

"You seem to have an awful lot of knowledge on this," Marshal interjected, snickering.

"Ey, I said to listen! No comments from the peanut gallery!" Acone took a moment to regain his confidence, then continued, "So if none of those shows have to deal with the heavy shit, then of course an actual talking pony wouldn't be used to it either! I bet–I would bet my car on this–I bet she got here because of something relating to friendship or kindness or something. Right?"

Twilight managed to squeak out a "yes."

"See? Boom!" Acone slumped back into his seat, as if hit by a canon. "She's not lying. She's actually scared of those numbers—and of course she's scared, because she hasn't had to deal with shit like that before! She's used to friendship problems or whatever, not fucking spears!"

The President stared at Acone in silence for a solid minute.

"...Ok. That is plausible," he finally said, his posture relaxing a little. "I'm willing to consider it. You three are all going to sleep here tonight, under armed guard. I don't want anything happening to you and that goddamn hospital leaks too much information. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Marshal responded.

"Good. Those agents will see you out."

Author's Note

Fun facts: This was a lot longer and different in tone, but I cut it down a bit.