Love, not War

Isaac Gabriel Leeson woke up in the morning with the feeling that something was off. Was it the pile of used clothing on the floor? No, that was quite normal, as Isaac had never been too fond of cleanliness. It was next to godliness, after all. Was it the curtains over his bedroom window, that had been manufactured with just the right materials to allow light to annoy him and semi-rouse him from sleep for the past three hours? No, it couldn’t be that, that was normal too. So what was it? Isaac wondered, as he blearily got dressed, scratching his black stubble of a beard. Oh, that was it, it was the sound. Screams could be heard all around him, the cacophony somehow having failed to rouse him before now. What was going on? He wondered, as he strode downstairs to meet his parents and ask them for a debriefing. During his trip down the stairs, Isaac just barely remembered to be smart enough to look out the window, and discovered the problem. Ah, yes, of course.

Aliens.

There was a massive ship in the sky, all black and seemingly as pockmarked as the Moon, though Isaac couldn’t quite spot it from here. It was surrounded by smaller ships, which were as small as flies if the mothership could be compared to a watermelon. Isaac thought he saw some similarities, but overall the resemblance was easily disputed. Somewhat surprised by the turn of events his morning was taking, he noticed his parents walking over from the kitchen to talk with him. Well, at least he could fondly remember this as the second strangest thing to happen in his life – the aliens, that was, not his parents speaking with him. They did that quite a lot – too much, in Isaac’s humble opinion.

His father, a tall, thin man with graying black hair and blue eyes, put a hand on his shoulder. Isaac’s adopted father was normally a jovial man, but today he was as somber as a funeral. Isaac’s adoptive mother was close behind, her stout, thickly built frame, pursed lips, and shoulder-length brown hair all set to her usual expression: Griping. Isaac’s adoptive Mom was a very negative woman, who always nitpicked and never had a bright outlook on life. Consequently, Isaac took it upon himself to ignore her at most times. However, something about her expression was causing him to pay attention for once in his life. “Isaac… you’ve watched the show ‘My Little Pony’, right?” she asked, and Isaac stared at her, an eyebrow furrowing in disbelief. Was she serious? God, no, not this again. He'd escaped this nonsense once already.

Cautiously, he nodded – he had been one of those ‘in-the-closet’ bronies, not talking to anyone save those in the fandom, and he'd certainly never told his parents. Honestly, he didn't actually like the show, he just watched to... keep up, he supposed. Know thine enemy and all that. Isaac’s mother motioned him back over to the kitchen table, where her laptop was open to a news site depicting a strikingly familiar creature. Outlined in green, glossy armor, a changeling from the show in question was snarling at them, with the headline “BREAKING NEWS : Fictional Characters Invade Earth” in great bold black letters underneath it. Isaac took ahold of the mouse, growing increasingly dismayed as he skimmed the subheaders. Lauren Faust had been taken in for questioning? The United Nations had already passed a unanimous vote to initiate hostilities? Rick Astley was making a comeback? Wait, no, he’d misread that last one. As Isaac continued to read the news, he reflected on his own fandom preferences. He was a massive changeling apologist, arguing that if they could just work out something peaceful, then everything would have been fine. According to this article, the changelings had been sending out individual ships all night, the ships somehow immune to anti-aircraft missiles and whatever else the United States had been throwing at them. However, wherever the changelings had landed, there were no confirmed casualties, and in fact the changelings seemed to-

He was about to read more, but there was a great echoing ‘CRASH’ right outside their house. Isaac, now somewhat concerned for his safety, went and grabbed a butcher’s knife from the kitchen. He peered outside through a small window next to the front door, to find a very disturbing sight. A changeling, its armor glinting in the morning light, was cheerfully waving at him, an amicable smile present on its otherwise fearsome features.

“Hello!” It called through the door, a distinctly British accent permeating the glass, and Isaac was taken aback – so it was true, then. Ponies and other equines spoke English.

“H… hello?” Isaac replied, cocking an eyebrow at the invader and keeping the door firmly closed. The changeling’s expression brightened further, if that were possible, and it bounded right up to the door, causing Isaac to stumble backwards in alarm and his parents to clutch at the respective wall fixtures they had been holding onto as though lifelines.

“Great! Good, good, you understand me, I was thinking I’d ended up in the wrong country for a second, you’re the first ones to actually reply!” the changeling continued, still speaking in a British accent. Isaac would have almost found this funny, had he not still been attempting to process that he was spending the morning talking to aliens.

The changeling shuffled around, poking a hoof through its armor to reveal a bundle of papers stashed inside, somewhat sticky. Isaac didn’t really want to know why they were sticky, so he politely looked away until the changeling had finished. Once it had taken out the paper it apparently wanted, it put the rest back and coughed loudly, snapping Isaac’s attention back onto it. “Okay. Um. According to this, I am supposed to speak with… ‘Gabrielle Clarke’. Do you know where she is?” it asked, looking up at him innocently. Now this, at least, made some sense to Isaac. Gabrielle Clarke was one of their state representatives, a small-town political figure who prided herself on progressive and innovative viewpoints. Isaac never really checked to see if her viewpoints actually were progressive or innovative, but that’s what everyone had said when he had asked. He presumed the changeling either wanted to seek audience with a political figure, or disguise itself as her and replace her – and besides, if the latter was the case, why would it have revealed itself to the entire neighborhood? At any rate, she was in town: She'd been visiting his county as part of some political move or other.

“Yeah, she’s…” Isaac trailed off, wondering how he could give directions to an alien from another world. Really, the polite thing to do would be to take the changeling there in person, but did Isaac really want to risk being alone in a car with a potentially hostile alien? Well, that was a stupid question, of course he did. What was life without a bit of fun?

“Tell you what, I’ll just take you there,” Isaac replied, to the audible shock of his parents. Ignoring them, he went and grabbed his car keys, and cautiously opened the door.

“Oh, that’s a… that’s a big knife,” the changeling remarked nervously. Isaac smiled, looking down at the alien next to him.

“It is rather nice to be prepared,” he replied, and the changeling nodded, still looking up at the foot-long butcher’s knife with an extremely frightened expression on his face.

They got into the car, the changeling figuring out after some struggle where he was supposed to sit. Isaac showed him how to use the seat buckle, and the changeling reluctantly did so. “This, uh… this isn’t some kind of trap, is it? Where I strap myself into this thing, and you use that knife to, um…” the changeling trailed off, swallowing and shaking slightly. Isaac looked over, concerned and slightly amused.

“Not at all,” he replied. “To undo those straps, simply press that red thing where I connected them. As for the knife, it’s in case you hurt one of us,” he briefly explained as he started up the car, his parents still looking on in shock.

“Oh! Well, that’s – that’s good. Fine by me, in fact, I never really planned to hurt anyone anyway – not to imply that I’d do so under other circumstances, mind you, that’s-“ the babbling changeling was silenced by a look from Isaac. “Right,” the changeling muttered under his breath, seemingly composing himself.

A few minutes later, they were on the highway, the changeling looking excitedly at all the cars zooming by. “Keep your head low, I don’t want others trying to crash this car,” Isaac warned after noticing this. The changeling immediately vanished from sight, turning invisible and causing Isaac to jerk the car in surprise, barely avoiding a neighboring car going at quite a faster speed than he was. “Wha – where are you?” he demanded, now somewhat nervous himself.

To his relief, the changeling responded immediately. “Oh. Uh, still here, still in this seat – I mean, you can see that, right, these belt straps are visible even when I’m not?” the changeling asked. Isaac spared a second to look over, and true enough, the straps were still there, outlining the invisible changeling’s contours.

“…Okay,” Isaac muttered after a second. They drove on in silence, Isaac wondering what he should say. Fortunately, this changeling was a much better talker than he was.

“Never did get your name, by the way. Mine’s Burning Ash – all my… what’s the word you use? ‘Parents’? Yes, those, were glassblowers, and they wanted me to join the family… s’too bad I never had any talent at glassblowing, really,” the changeling petered off quietly.

“Isaac,” Isaac simply responded, unable to think of anything interesting to say about himself.

Still invisible, Burning Ash gave a grunt next to him, and Isaac thought the changeling might’ve been smiling. “Nice to meet you, Isaac.”

Just over an hour later, they drove into the parking space for the City Council building, which was unsurprisingly crammed with reporters, protesters, police, and the like. “My advice to you? Keep your head pointed straight ahead, and if anyone asks you anything, say you’re here on official business,” Isaac counseled, unsure if he really even should be helping.

Burning Ash turned visible again, smiling at him. “You know, that’s exactly what my supervisor said, word for word – well, not verbatim, obviously, because that would be-“ Isaac once again silenced him with a look, and Ash got the hint, standing up tall and pointing his compound eyes roughly forward. However, as soon as the crowd spotted the changeling, they immediately ran forward, and Isaac pushed Burning Ash off to the side. "Nevermind, run!" Isaac cried, and they sprinted around the building. Up ahead, Isaac spotted a loading dock, and motioned for Ash to follow. "S'cuse us!" Isaac called out, bounding through, and Ash gave them a sheepish grin as he followed.  Finally, they made their way to the main atrium of the building, and headed towards the stairs to find Mrs. Clarke's office. However, just as they were about to take the first step, a team of four policemen appeared at the top of the stairs, blocking their way.

“Hooves in the air, changeling," one of them said, and pointed a pistol at the changeling, who immediately backed away, shakily raising his hooves into the air and somehow keeping balance. Isaac, who also had a gun pointed at him, was surprisingly calm. He knew just what to do.

“Guns don't work on changelings, they have very hard exoskeletons," he called up to them. "Besides, we're here on peaceful terms only, so let us through," he added after a moment's thought.

The police officer looked at the others, and they huddled up for a round of whispering. Well, it was probably actually just regular inside voices, but it might as well have been whispering for all Isaac could make out over the noise of the crowd. Finally, the officers broke apart, and held open the doors for them. “If he tries anything, we have grenades,” the officer Isaac had spoken to warned, and Isaac grimly nodded, wondering what the hell he was doing with his life.

As soon as they were inside, Isaac motioned Ash over to the nearest restroom, locking them inside as soon as Ash closed the door. “Now what’s this all about, huh, I don’t have to use this place, I don’t even have the organs required to-“ Ash was once again silenced as Isaac put a finger to his lips. The human took a seat on the floor, moving his knife out of a potentially painful position as he glared at Ash.

“Before I get into trouble for allowing you to do something that is quite possibly a war crime, would you like to tell me just what it is you intend to do once you find Mrs. Clarke?” he asked.

Ash rubbed his forehead awkwardly. “Well, it’s – it’s classified,” he bluffed, but stiffened once he saw that Isaac had taken out his knife. “Okay, okay! Once I meet Mrs. Clarke, I am to tell her that the changeling queendom wishes to enter peaceful – you heard me, okay, peaceful – negotiations with the planet “Earth”. And I’m not supposed to say this out loud, but you’re pointing a knife at me, so here goes: We are starving. Okay? We’re all going to die of hunger, unless we start draining the love of you Earth humans. And before you kill me, I just wanted to say that we would do this voluntarily. No mind control, no magic, nothing to make you humans alarmed in the slightest. Just good, old-fashioned dating, and hugs, and whatever else passes for romance among your kind. Okay? Is that… is that good?” Burning Ash asked, as Isaac glared at him.

Finally, the human looked away, putting his knife back in his pocket. “Alright, that seems fine. But one wrong step-“ he began, and this time was surprisingly interrupted by an irate Ash.

“-And I’ll die, yes, I’m aware. Honestly, what is it with you humans and killing people?” Burning Ash questioned, reaching up to unlock the door with his hoof. He struggled with the lock for a moment, until Isaac reached out and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

Isaac chuckled to that. “What’s with the British accent?” he retorted as they continued making their way towards the office, and Ash looked up at him.

“Well, actually, it’s not my real voice, as you can probably imagine. My real voice sounds something like-“ here he demonstrated a series of clicks and hisses “-but we chose this ‘English’ accent because it sounded like it would be well received. No tricks, or any of that, mind you, but we’d rather not scare you by yelling incomprehensible things at you, even if they are polite.” Isaac nodded, as this made sense to him, and they made their way to Mrs. Clarke’s door.

Isaac was unsure of whether or not to knock, but decided to do so anyway. “We’re busy at the moment, thank you, now please wait until Mrs. Clarke has finished,” an annoyed, elderly female voice replied.

“Busy enough to not speak with the changeling right outside her door?” Isaac snarkily responded, and there was a moment of silence. The door was opened to reveal Mrs. Clarke’s secretary, looking at the pair of them with the utmost shock on her face.

“A – a changeling? Here? But, why are you-“ Isaac held up a hand to stop her.

“He is here on behalf of his nation, for diplomatic negotiation. I am here as… his counselor.” Isaac had made it up on the spot, but he felt that that was effectively his role when dealing with Ash: In exchange for Ash not going postal and biting someone, he, Isaac was entrusted with the responsibility of explaining Earth customs to Ash to avoid a potential fiasco.

A dark-skinned man with a news camera was ushered out of the room as soon as they entered. “-Later, we’ll finish this discussion later,” the other occupant of the room pressed. As soon as the door had closed, they looked at each other, Isaac sizing up Mrs. Gabrielle Clarke in person. She was rather shorter than he had expected, but he wasn’t exactly the tallest person around himself. Mrs. Clarke, on the other hand, was staring down at Ash, her mouth forming into a small “o”. “So…” Mrs. Clarke trailed off, unsure what to do.

“Should we sit?” Isaac prompted, and this at last spurred Mrs. Clarke into action, as she pulled out seats for the both of them. Finally, she took a seat at her desk, across from the two, and Ash cleared his throat officially.

“The Royal Queen Mimica would like to extend her formal greetings and salutations to Gabrielle Clarke. She has sent this changeling-“ here Ash stopped his surprisingly businesslike tone to point a hoof at himself – “in order to express the following: We changelings would like to enter peaceful negotiations with the planet Earth, in order to further relationships between changelings and humans. Our eventual goal is to work out a stable supply of love, readily available on your planet, so that we may continue to thrive as a species. This would only be done with the express, enthusiastic and continual consent of all parties involved, to prevent any hostilities from arising between our two races. Your role in this partnership, should you accept it, is simply to write to your state representative to please call off the threats of armed hostilities that have been made clear in the past day. If you do not consent to this action or the future implications of this action, please state so at this or any future time and we will peacefully withdraw from your place of residence.” Having finished, Burning Ash looked up at Mrs. Clarke, who had managed to calm down significantly. “Does that sound fair?” he asked, and Mrs. Clarke smiled before nodding.

“That does sound rather alright… but how do I know you’re telling the truth?” she asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Burning Ash. Burning Ash stiffened and was about to issue a retort, before Isaac stopped him.

“Mrs. Clarke,” he began carefully, “Burning Ash here has shown nothing but the utmost politeness and respect when dealing with humans. His story is plausible, given… our knowledge on the subject, and I am willing to give peace a chance. Are you?” he asked.