"You think you're better than us?"

Swift Swim rolled her eyes. "Again, Bucky?"

"We didn't get to finish." He reached for her shoulder, but the little satyr danced away, spinning to face him.

"Oh, no, we're thoroughly done. Drop it, or I'll drop you."

A chorus of little kids oooed at the obvious threat, eyes locked on the two.

He cracked his knuckles as he balled his fists. "You think you can take me on?"

"You and your friend." Her long feathery ears twitching. "Who isn't nearly as sneaky as he thinks he is."

The tension grew around her, the only inhuman student in that gathering of the children there. She was still in grade school, which was a fine time to be introduced to the physical violence humans could visit upon things they decided were different. Her hooves slid faintly, adjusting her stance in readiness for the release of that tension. She hadn't started the fight, but she was determined to end it.

Her mother would have scolded her for days if she could see. Swift smirked softly, imagining Mobile Coral's disapproving glare. A mother didn't know the steps a child had to take sometimes. She loved her mom to pieces, but she had no idea what happened in the real world.

His friend wasn't coming closer. Too scared to start? Just as well, she kept most of her attention on the primary target. "Put up or walk away." What you said mattered in those things. The kids would talk about what you said. Sometimes you could be declared the winner of a fight just for what came out of your mouth at the right time.

He didn't walk away. With a great roar he hoped, perhaps without thinking, would intimidate her, he charged at her, fist already swinging towards her. She didn't back away, instead charging under the swing, letting his arm fly over her head as she spun in place, crashing her foot into his side.

One thing about satyrs, they always wore metal-tipped shoes. They were called hooves. Sure, hers were covered in a more rubbery arrangement of clip-on horseshoes, but they were thick and solid. The pained grunt that wheezed out of the boy told her she had struck well as they danced away from each other.

"Break it up!" boomed the voice of the referee neither had asked for. A scowling teacher stormed onto the scene, officially ending the conflict before it could proceed. "Who started this?"

"She kicked me!" wailed the big brute, rubbing where she had left a mark that became visible as the teacher lifted his shirt to have a look. The student body hissed and oooed at the sight.

"Everyone get back to class." The teacher banished them, but looked towards Swift. "Not you."

"Oooo." They dispersed as to not catch the fury that was approaching.

Swift folded her arms across her chest. "He punched me, but I was better at not being hit."

Her suspicious look wavered between the two. "I don't want either of you two fighting. Swift, you can really hurt someone."

"And a fist can't?" She huffed at the lines being drawn. "I'm fine not fighting if he is."

"You're both getting a note to take home. I expect them signed and brought back with you tomorrow."

Swift Swim sighed miserably. She'd have to admit to her parents what happened.

"Th-thanks." The little boy walked alongside Swift. "You really didn't have to... but thanks."

"Hey, if that creep bothers you again." She balled a fist a moment. "Just lemme know."

"You're really brave." He rubbed behind his head. "I was scared."

Most kids were, but she was not most kids. The way she saw it, she was kinda set apart by a lot of things. "I'm not letting any meat head pick on my friends." She threw an arm around the boy and squeezed him briefly. "That's why we stick together."

The boy smiled, appreciative for the backup and the solidarity. "If I can, uh, you know, help..."

"Fractions make my head hurt," admitted Swift with a suffering sigh. "Do you get it?"

"Fractions are easy!" he chimed, his whole face brightening. "I'll show you." She smiled at him, understanding he was happy to have some way to repay his debts, not to make fun of her.

Not a single creature said third grade was easy.

He wouldn't even run. There was a vote going on, with his name on it. President Smith would soon be Former President Smith, and he was largely alright with that. "It's time the people got to decide who will head this new era."

Sure, they had selected those who came before him, but he was never voted into the office. Another man had stepped down, thrusting him into the position. It was not what he had signed up for, but he had done his job with faith and rigor owed to the position. "What's on the docket today?" Sure, not technically the correct word, but it worked.

"Princess Celestia has a proposal." An assistant slid the folder forward. "There's a significant foreword by Princess Twilight Sparkle."

Which likely meant it involved magic or technology. Smith reached for it, flipping it open and beginning to read. Twilight was requesting use of the satellites in orbit around the world, to assist with weather, science, and other monitoring needs they had in Equestria. "We will gladly contribute towards this project, but it covers the entire world, and its benefits should also reach the world entire, and all its people and creatures. Our own space program is still, regretfully, behind on this matter. We hope to send the first payload of any kind into space within the next few years. Living ponies? At least a decade away."

"We have proven our friendship. I hope we can walk together in this, hoof in hand. Please get back to us."

The ponies were, as foreign nations went, fairly harmless. Though far more advanced in the ways of 'magic', a word he didn't much favor, they were fascinated with human technology, and quite eager to trade one for the other. They didn't seem to mind America being the most powerful nation, militarily. 'We're friends, why should we be worried?' being their motto on the matter.

There was really only one thing that bothered people, magic accessibility. While some technological research was delving into how to emulate specific feats of magic, the telekinesis bands came to mind, none of them let a human actually cast a spell as a unicorn did as a birthright with a little training. It was... just a biological fact. Humans had no eyes, and thus were blind.

But, unlike actually blind people, they could behold exactly what they were missing. It was right there for them to perceive fully, to marvel at, and desire. But just as denied. Worst of both worlds, that. Ultimately, that had nothing to do with the proposal they had just sent. They wanted a piece of the technological bounty and infrastructure America had at its disposal. They, magic-deprived humans, had figured out how to get their rockets up, to deliver payloads of satellites into orbit. It didn't work out exactly the same as it did back in their... home? reality. That place, that didn't have air in space. That place where the idea of needing to coax the sun to rise or set would be beyond ludicrous...

But an idea came to him. He began drafting a treaty, something to send to the senate for consideration and input, as was their job with such things. They would accept the mantle of watcher of the space above the world. America knew how to navigate it, and already was. They'd help others interact with it, for a proper fee. America would be the gatekeeper of outer-space. Such an idea would be ludicrous back on Earth, with other global powers already pushing off the planet who would have taken quite the dim view of such an idea.

But there... The ponies would likely bow their heads. The other members of their alliance would cheer, seeing it for its promise to help all people reach the stars. Those beyond would fall in line, most of them just not even considering it. To them, space travel was as fanciful as Smith would have thought magic was just a decade prior. They would only really realize what had happened long after it had occurred, and America would reap the benefits.

America wouldn't be the premiere space power. It would be the only one. All other nations would scramble to line America's pockets with support to gain the benefits of their innovations.

He may have been on the way out, but that didn't mean he couldn't squeeze his way into the history books.

"You thought you could just... betray me."

"You were killed once," reminded Paul, glaring at the changeling queen that had infiltrated his home. "Touch me and we'll see if the second time sticks."

"They won't even know what happened," laughed Chrysalis. "You're in your--"

"There are no less than five cameras recording you," noted Paul flatly. "They are recording, live, to the cloud. You could level this entire house and their recordings are available. Kill me, they will know."

Chrysalis scowled at her minion, who was not cowering. He wasn't begging for mercy. He wasn't even trying to run away in a panic. As dramatic reveals went, this was going... poorly. "Even if they see, how does that help you, who would be dead?" A renewed glare formed, confident she had him.

"It wouldn't." He folded his arms over his chest, still wearing that human disguise. "Go ahead. I won't give you the pleasure. You didn't break America, and you won't break me."

Chrysalis slammed a hoof down so hard the floor crumpled mildly at the impact. "You remain useless!" she hissed in outrage. "But there is, perhaps one use for you." She sat, bringing her forehooves together. "Those launch codes you were so hesitant to give before. You will give them to me, now."

"Any code I knew is already out of date. I'm about as useful to you on that front as a random hotdog vendor." Paul smirked, perhaps enjoying how poorly Chrysalis' little plan was going. "There is not one piece of information I have that will get you closer to any nuclear weapon."

This was not, entirely, truthful. Paul was a treasure trove of information. He knew the procedures. He knew the locations. He knew the plans and the capability of America. Held captive by competent enemies, he could be fleeced for all sorts of vital knowledge. At the hands of a psychotic changeling queen, he was worthless.

She was on him suddenly, her hoof crashing into his cheek with a viciously placed punch that sent him sprawling. With a flare of green magic, Paul was revealed to be the changeling he was. "That's better. I came to..." She noticed the bright shades, the altered lines. "You... The treachery only goes deeper."

She charged across the room even as he was just standing up. She crashed into him, sending him bouncing off the nearest wall to collapse back to his belly. "Infernal thing! Thorax's spawn! I will take such extreme pleasure in ripping you apart, limb from limb. We'll start with those grossly colored wings of yours."

Paul knew many things, but, ultimately, he was... an American. He had fallen so far into his role, he was a terrible changeling.

But he was an American.

Chrysalis staggered back a step, her charge aborted. "What?" she hissed, surprise clear on her face. She staggered back, crashing to her haunches. "What did you just do?"

Paul raised his gun, tucked into his exoskeleton as it had been, towards her head. "There's not a jury in the land that wouldn't call this self defense. Get out or die, make your choice, quickly."

"You will regret this," she hissed with impotent rage, darting away, breaking a window as she buzzed off, trailing a thin line of blood behind her.

Paul wasn't as safe in retirement as he thought he'd been.

Author's Note

It's so nice to dig into past characters and future ramifications. Which past characters do you want to see more of?

Join the special community of folks who like my stories and/or get your own written here at atreon!

Join my discord to chat!