Love, not War

Isaac was ushered by a group of changelings back to the hangar, led by Queen Mimica and with Chrysalis in tow.

“Mom, I don’t wanna go! They all hate me!” Chrysalis complained, trying to break free of the group.

“Chrysalis, please trust me. Everything will work out in the end,” Queen Mimica answered, outwardly calm.

They approached Queen Mimica’s personal ship, which was significantly larger than the drone ship Isaac had flown in on – he hoped he’d have enough room this time.

Thankfully, his spatial prayers were answered – the cabin of the ship did, in fact, have seats just large enough for him to sit up in. Two drones accompanied him, the Queen, and Chrysalis into the ship, immediately taking up their posts as pilots in the front seats.

“So… what’s the plan?” Isaac asked.

Queen Mimica shifted nervously. “Get to the United Nations council, and… beg for mercy,” she admitted quietly.

Chrysalis stared at her, openmouthed. “And why am I here?” the younger changeling demanded. “We all know the second any human catches sight of me, they’ll never accept the offer!”

Queen Mimica smiled down at her daughter. “A fair judgement given the circumstances, my dear, but I have hopes that these politicians can yet be swayed by logic and reason.” Isaac almost felt as if he should object to that, given his experience, but perhaps she had a point.

They made their way around the mothership and towards Earth, Isaac once again captivated by the beauty of the blue-green sphere he called home. Queen Mimica, noticing his stare, chuckled.

“A beauty, isn’t it? Not quite as colorful as our home planet… but that only makes it all the more appealing, in my opinion,” she remarked, now gazing out at the planet herself.

Isaac could only nod. Chrysalis, too, was watching their descent, though Isaac thought he noted a hint of trepidation in her expression.

“It’ll be fine,” he consoled her. “Once they realize you’re younger than your TV counterpart, and haven’t done anything, they can’t possibly have a reason to hate you.”

Chrysalis glared at him. “You know what your kind is like. Do they need a reason?” Isaac fell silent, and this time Queen Mimica spoke up.

“Chrysalis! Not all humans are so judgmental, and there is no reason to stoop to the level of those that are by making such generalizations.”

Chrysalis looked as though she were about to argue, but then dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she muttered in Isaac’s general direction.

“It’s alright,” Isaac replied, and the group fell silent.

“Isaac, do you have family on Earth?” Queen Mimica asked after a pause.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah… they’re probably wondering where I am,” he answered, now lost in thought. They’d probably seen him leave his car behind and get in the ship… Maybe they were waiting for him.

“What are they like?” Queen Mimica continued.

Isaac thought. “Well, my adoptive mom is… strict. She always wanted me to become something that paid well, like a doctor, or a lawyer… instead I chose a degree in engineering.” He allowed himself a small smile. “It wasn’t the worst type of job, so she ended up accepting in the end. She was a business major, herself, and helped me a lot with the college selection process – handling the paperwork, and all that. My adopted dad is a software engineer. He was pretty okay with what I ended up doing, though he of course insisted on teaching me how to program.”

From the expressions on Queen Mimica’s and Chrysalis’ faces, Isaac suspected that at least half of this was flying over their heads. “So… you went to college?” Queen Mimica asked, after nothing else was forthcoming.

Isaac nodded. “California Institute of Technology. According to most of the United States, it’s the single hardest engineering college there is. They’re not wrong,” Isaac remarked, chuckling as he recalled many sleepless nights.

Chrysalis was staring at him. “You said you were adopted?” she asked, and Isaac nodded again.

“I never knew my real parents. I guess… I guess they didn’t want me,” he admitted, looking away. It was not the grief of being abandoned that had caused him to do so, no, he had gotten over that a long time ago. It was what came next: Those looks of pity, those kind words that never meant anything beyond “I’m glad I’m not you”. Sure enough, when he chanced a look back, the Queen was looking at him with the utmost sympathy. Isaac held up a hand, forestalling the conversation he was sure was about to start. “I don’t want to talk about it, and I’ve gotten over it,” he asserted, and Queen Mimica went silent.

Earth slowly grew larger in the ship’s viewport, and Isaac felt the familiar sensation of gravity begin to overtake him. Stubbornly, he looked away, refusing to acknowledge his slowly accelerating heart rate or his already shaky breathing.

“Are you alright?” Chrysalis asked.

“I don’t like heights,” was Isaac’s only answer.

“Close your eyes, and pretend you’re somewhere else?” Chrysalis suggested.

Isaac grumbled, but did as instructed. He pretended he was in his room, studying for the test he was supposed to be taking tomorrow. As mathematical formulae and definitions swirled in his head, Isaac slowly began to relax, losing track of time.

It seemed only a few minutes later that the ship touched down on Earth with a jarring thump. “We’re here. The United Nations Headquarters, New York City,” Queen Mimica announced.

Isaac looked up, surprised to see that they had landed right on top of the building in question: The East River was visible to his left, and the rest of NYC on his right. He climbed out, assisted by one of the changeling pilots, and the group stood at the edge of the roof, overlooking the city.  Isaac could have sworn he saw another changeling ship in the distance, but perhaps it had been a trick of the light.

“How do we get down?” Isaac wondered.

A changeling snickered in response, but was quelled by a look from the Queen.

“I had forgotten you didn’t possess wings, my mistake,” she smoothly answered. “Would you like to ride on my back as a means of getting down?”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “…Alright,” he answered, as the assorted other changelings stared at their Queen in surprise. Isaac was surprised as well: She would have never done that.

Queen Mimica laid down on the roof, a gesture from her hoof indicating that Isaac should climb on. Hesitantly, he did so, and she stood up slowly, making sure he was comfortable before spreading out her wings. Not bothering to flap or ‘buzz’ her wings, she glided down to the nearby grass, landing as gently as she could before laying down once more.

“Thanks,” Isaac said as he dismounted, unable to hide his surprise at her politeness.

“Just being helpful,” Queen Mimica smiled.

They hurried around to the entrance of the building, passersby staring in shock and horror. “We all ready?” Isaac asked, pushing open a door.

“As ever,” Queen Mimica answered, striding in and thanking him as he held the door open for the rest of the changelings.

The inside of the main lobby was, as to be expected, very grandly-decorated and spacious. Clean, white-and-gray alternating marble tiles decorated the floor, and the walls were painted a vaguely off-white color to accent the yellowish lights and give the place a warmer feel than it would otherwise suggest. Of course, the place was once again packed with reporters, who went silent at the sight of the unlikely group. Feeling brave, Isaac stepped forward. “Which way to the Meeting Room?” he asked, and a nearby journalist shakingly pointed to a door all the way across the room. “Thank you,” Isaac replied, and the group quickly made their way to the door in question, the mass of news media associates politely parting so that they could move forward. Isaac wasn’t sure why they were being so polite, but it wasn’t until he found a man who was backing away as they passed by that he discerned a possible reason: They were terrified of the changelings. Mentally shrugging at their cowardice, Isaac strode forward and opened the door to the United Nations Conference Room.

Unlike the lobby, the Conference Room had brown wood and blue carpet accents to offset the stark white walls that were prevalent seemingly everywhere in the building. However, it still clearly gave off an aura of cold, hard business. The hundreds of men who were in the room had been arguing furiously about something, and they almost comically fell silent as Queen Mimica entered the room. Nonplussed by the sudden quiescence, Queen Mimica cleared her throat, addressing the room as a whole. “I am Queen Mimica of the changelings. I come in peace.”

There was shocked silence for a moment, then the entire United Nations burst into uproar. The Chairman, a burly, mustachioed man Isaac recognized as Ze’ev Johnsen, immediately shouted for quiet, and only after thirty solid seconds of yelling did anyone pay attention to him. It was another minute and a half before everyone had calmed down enough, and Queen Mimica kept a polite smile on her face throughout the whole spectacle. Isaac, meanwhile, had been unable to take the hilarity of the stereotypically dramatic arguing in front of him, and had collapsed against a wall with a hand to his face, trying desperately to keep himself from bursting into laughter and ruining everything.

Finally, the entire group had once again calmed down.

“Why are you here?” The Chairman asked, addressing Mimica directly.

Some of the changelings shifted from his brusque tone, but a look from Mimica quelled them instantly. She stepped forward, adopting a regal tone. “I am here to protest the upcoming launch of a biotechnological weapon at my ship and children. We changelings mean no harm, and… we will accede to any demands you wish. Please do not commit the xenocide of our race.”

The Chairman stared at her for a moment, then began laughing. His laugh filled the spacious chamber, reverberating off of the walls until most everyone in the room was staring at him as though afraid for his sanity. “Yes, that would be what you expected, wouldn’t it?” Mr. Johnsen asked, unable to contain his mirth. “Only – you, boy, you might have heard of this – we couldn’t figure out a way to propel the bomb at the ship in time. Too heavy or something, I forget the details.” He strode forward, a devious grin on his face. Isaac noticed a familiar visage in the periphery of his vision, but was too distracted to concentrate on it at the moment. “So instead, we went for the next best thing: If we couldn’t end you directly…” Mr. Johnsen drawled, smirking.

“No…” Isaac whispered. They couldn’t be that stupid.

“We’d get rid of all your food and ours, and leave you to starve! If there are no humans on the planet, there will be no love for you to feed on! You'll die with us!” The Chairman announced, whipping out a walkie-talkie and thumbing the button once, before laughing and coughing maniacally.

Isaac was about to object, to say something, maybe to tackle the man in front of him in some desperate attempt to reverse what had just happened, but somebody else had already beaten him to it: Gabrielle Clarke, who had somehow arrived on the scene, had tackled the Chairman to the ground.

“What – no – get off me!” Mr. Johnsen spluttered, evidently as surprised as Isaac was at his attacker. Finding her prize, Mrs. Clarke snatched it off of him and held up the walkie-talkie, hurriedly punching in buttons.

“This is Gabrielle Clarke of the United States Senate, and you will call off that bomb!” she shouted into the walkie-talkie, her untidy hair giving her a quite demented look. Another senator stood up, and Isaac looked over and did a double take: Gabrielle Clarke was standing there too, her hair in a quite orderly bun.

“But… I’m Gabrielle Clarke,” she began slowly. “I’ve been here the whole time, visiting my relatives, but who are…” she immediately quailed under the look her double was giving her.

“I am not an impostor, before you ask! I am you. I’m from the future, a future which this idiot created by killing everyone, and I will not let him do so again!” the other Mrs. Clarke declared, before pulling out a gun and shooting Ze’ev Johnsen directly in the face.

There was a shocked silence in the Conference Room. Even Queen Mimica was staring, slack-jawed, at the spectacle that had played out before her. Her pupils shrunk in fear as the duplicate Mrs. Clarke turned to face her, gun pointed at the changeling queen and breathing as heavily as though she had just ran a marathon.

“At first… I thought… it was you, who did this…” she breathed, gun hand twitching erratically. “But no… no, we did this to ourselves… But then why…” she trailed off, muttering incoherently.

“Mrs… Mrs. Clarke?” Isaac asked. She looked at him, eyes clouded and watery with exhaustion and humiliation.

“Yeah, kid?” she asked, any trace of formalities gone.

“What happens now?” Isaac asked, unsure of quite what else to say.

“Well, we wait for a response,” she sighed, holding up the walkie-talkie. “Hopefully they’ll call off the bomb. If not… Well, I guess I do this all over again,” she muttered. She straightened up and addressed her double.

“Gabrielle… go to the abandoned warehouse, it’s about 2 miles north of here. You won’t miss it, it’s big, and red, and they’ll set you up.” Her past self nodded, looking frightened, and ran from the room.

Barely a minute later, there was the crackle of static, and the older Mrs. Clarke held up the walkie-talkie to her ear. “Yes?” she asked, forgoing what Isaac assumed was standard radio protocol. He couldn’t make out the response, but judging from Mrs. Clarke’s impressively pale face, it wasn’t anything good.

“Get ready to run,” Isaac whispered to Queen Mimica and Chrysalis, who both stiffened and cautiously nodded. The transmission ended, and Mrs. Clarke stared around at them, eyes wide.

“WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” she bellowed. “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

There was, of course, an immediate mass panic. National representatives stampeded to escape the room, though Isaac didn’t know where they thought they were going. After all, it sounded like the older Mrs. Clarke had returned from a post-apocalyptic Earth, which meant the bomb had apparently managed to destroy all life on the planet. Where, then, would they flee to? He was distracted from his musings by the approach of Mrs. Clarke, her hair frazzled and her eyes more tired than Isaac had ever seen them.

“Well, you tried,” Isaac sadly remarked.

Mrs. Clarke glared at him. “Oh, hell no. I did not play that game and lose just to see humanity destroyed. Kid, get off this planet, and get back to the changeling ship.” When Isaac stared, confused, Mrs. Clarke shook him by the shoulders. “NOW!” she screamed, and Isaac stumbled back.

“Okay, okay!” he replied hastily, turning around to look at the changelings.

To his surprise, they had already left, and Isaac couldn’t see them. “Hey – hey, wait up!” Isaac called, forgetting about Mrs. Clarke as he ran after them.

He ran to the outside of the building, looking up – but of course he couldn’t make them out from here. “Chrysalis!” he yelled to the open air. “Queen Mimica?! Don’t leave me!” he pleaded. He was the only one with a ticket off this planet, and they’d already left! “Shit, shit, shit!” Isaac swore under his breath. Maybe he could hitch a ride to NASA, or something? No, he didn't know where it was, and the United Nations members would probably already have commandeered any available shuttles. Isaac faintly heard his name being called in the distance, and sprang up again. “Hello?!” he called back, over the din of the crowds . Finally, Chrysalis revealed herself, having been invisible just feet away from him. The oncoming rush of people immediately avoided her, some actually screaming in fear.

“Climb on!” she ordered, and turned around. Forgoing any hesitations he might have had about her ability to support his weight, Isaac climbed onto her back and she sprang up, somehow still flying despite being half his size.

“Wasn’t expecting you – did your mom okay this?” Isaac asked joyfully over the rush of air and the shouting crowd.

“No! You saved my people – I’m going to save you!” Chrysalis declared, struggling to stay airborne. Evidently she wasn’t used to carrying his weight, but sheer desperation kept her aloft as she reached the roof of the building. Isaac was tempted to object that, in fact, he might have doomed her and her mother by forcing them to be on Earth when the bomb hit. However, he elected to remain silent, because he was already very high up and didn't want to be dropped by an irate changeling nymph.

Chrysalis ran to the spot where the ship would be, only to find an empty patch of roof: Evidently, Queen Mimica had already escaped. “NO!” she yelled up at the sky. “Dammit, I don’t believe this – they left without me!” she cried.

“Chrysalis…” Isaac began.

“I mean, I escaped as they were pulling out, but I thought they’d come back, at least!” she continued, beginning to heave choking sobs as she laid down and buried her face in her hooves.

“Chrysalis!” Isaac shouted, interrupting her.

“Wha-“ Chrysalis said as she lifted her head to stare at the newcomer to the rooftop. A changeling ship had just arrived, and while it wasn't the Queen's ship, Isaac found it very familiar.

“All right there, gents?” Burning Ash asked as the cockpit of his ship slid open. Isaac and Chrysalis quickly clambered inside, Isaac actually cheering as he did so. “Next stop – not this place!” Burning Ash declared, and Chrysalis joyfully hugged him as Burning Ash gunned the throttle, the ship rocketing upward at speeds that would have made Isaac dizzy had he not already been so confused by recent events.

“What made you come back?” Isaac asked, his voice still far too loud from being outside – Burning Ash winced, but grinned back at him.

“T’be honest? I wanted to watch Queen Mimica. Y’know, just in case she… needed a valiant savior,” the changeling admitted, blushing.

“You have a crush on my mom?” Chrysalis asked, and Burning Ash blushed even further.

“H-hey, I didn’t mean-“ he was cut off by Chrysalis’ hoof on his lips.

“You’re enough of a savior for me,” she answered, and Burning Ash stared at her, mouth tightly closed and his whole face turning green from embarrassment. Chrysalis turned to face Isaac, who had been watching the spectacle with amusement. “You too, Isaac,” she quietly added, actually kissing him on the cheek. Isaac immediately went bright red – he hadn’t been expecting that.

Mrs. Clarke calmly sat, alone in the United Nations Conference Room, as the end of the world approached. "One kid," she kept muttering under her breath. "Just one, little kid... Well? At least I saved something this time. And to think, all I did was go to some backwater county and talk to a kid and a changeling..." She pulled out a photograph, faded yellow with age. It appeared to be of a younger her, outfitted all in red, making a two-fingered salute and holding up the deceased corpse of a monster that was like something out of a video game. Mrs. Clarke read the inscription, a single tear coming to her eye.

"Better luck next time..."