Author's Note
As of 5/25/2021, this chapter has undergone some extensive rewrites to improve the readability and overall feel. Thank you for reading, and please comment leave a rating; it helps understand the general opinion of my reader and what I can do better on.
I plan on doing some major rewrites of both the second and third chapters before releasing the fourth, so if there is a quality drop between this and the second and third right now, please bear with me.
And have a pleasant day! 
Chapter One - Alien
William Thomas let out a tired sigh as he leaned back in his chair. He glanced towards the papers that littered his desk with mock contempt. He had spent the better part of six hours trying to decipher an encrypted radio message from Wingbardy, all because President Reagan had been getting worried that their leader, Giulio Beakolini, was getting a little uppity.
Thomas snorted as he imagined the griffon. From the handful of pictures he had seen of him, he was amazed at how much the griffon resembled the Italian dictator his name alluded to; according to the translator who sent him the transcript, they even spoke in Italian.
He let out another sigh as his thoughts turned to home, or lack thereof. While his home state had been mostly spared from the atomic fire that burned up most of the globe, the effects of the nuclear fallout still consumed it. He still remembered the day the world ended; he had been attending a family reunion on leave from military service when the bombs dropped. He remembered listening to the radio as the operator gave out the grave news.
"This is the American Emergency Broadcast Service; please, everyone, stay calm. The United States has been the victim of an attack by the USSR. Please, report to your bomb shelters and stay indoors. We have multiple confirmed reports of atomic detonations in the following cities: New York...Los Angeles…Chicago—" They had been preparing for atomic war for years by that point, but for it to actually happen… He had half-expected the broadcaster to come back and tell them it was a false alarm and that the world wasn’t actually over, but it had happened, and there was no going back.
But that wasn't the end of it; fate had other plans in mind. Instead, things just moved on from there, from the military coup to the occupation of Canada, South America, and Australia, to the building of the portals to the New World and getting everyone across, it had been a rough ride, and it hadn’t ended. Going into the New World had proved to be another turning point in human history.
Not only had they met an alien race, but multiple. They had entered into a world of magical talking ponies, griffons, and a host of other races, but even then, they managed. The ponies had been surprisingly helpful, with the country of New Mareland providing them territory and aid. The Junta that governed America had graciously accepted the offers.
Then, two years later, the Junta leaders peacefully surrendered their positions after a national referendum, Congress had been restored, and they had held the first election in the New World without bloodshed; Ronald Reagan had been reelected to his prewar position, and he nominated his opponent Jimmy Carter as his vice president—uniting the remnants of the Democratic and Republican parties into the New American Party, the united face of democracy in the United States. Their only actual opposition being the America First Party, the radicalized pro-humanity group spearheaded by the "reformed" David Duke.
It never ceased to amaze Thomas how politics still survived and thrived even after the end of the world; four loud knocks at his door disturbed him from his thoughts, and he stood up, feeling his joints pop, and walking to the door. He had a good idea as to who it was. His house had recently been renovated to include a second bedroom and private bathroom, not by his own volition, but by government mandate. He was expected to house a foreigner, a rather important foreigner, if the non-disclosure agreement was anything to go by.
When he opened the door, he was greeted by the face of a man in formal attire. A black car with tinted windows sitting in his driveway, with two more men beside it, one standing on each side of the vehicle.
"Specialist Thomas, I'm Connor McConaughey, we're with the Central Intelligence Agency," the agent who knocked on his door said, extended his hand for Thomas to shake, which he did with some hesitation. He felt a little off-put by the appearance of the CIA agents; he had expected some kind of diplomat and escort or something, not three government no-names.
Well, he supposed at least one did have a name.
"Nice to meetcha, agent," a hint of his southeastern accent peeking through. He glanced from one agent to another, taking in their appearances. Agent McConaughey weathered face hinted towards him being in his late thirties, but he wore a leather jacket with a T-shirt with the logo of some new band and khaki pants. The aged man's strange casual wear greatly contrasted with his solemn frown and furrowed brow. The other agents wore more formal clothing, button-up white shirts with black dress pants, looking more like what one would expect from a CIA agent.
"We are here to drop off the V.I.P. Specialist." As if on cue, one of the agents opened the back passenger door, and a figure in a brown cloak exited, clear by their stature that they weren't human. The cloaked figure kept their head down as they walked towards the house, flanked by the two sharply dressed agents. The protrusion at the top of what looked to be its head seemed to reveal that the new guest was a unicorn. Thomas raised an eyebrow and glanced towards McConaughey, hoping to get some sort of explanation; however, Agent McConaughey was busy watching the pony as it approached Thomas's house.
Thomas stepped inside and stood clear of the door as the cloaked unicorn entered. When they passed by him, he was surprised to see how tall they were. Most of the ponies he had seen barely reached up to his waist, but this one’s head seemed to reach his upper chest, not including the horn that probably added an extra foot, and Thomas was relatively tall. The agents closed the door behind them, and all four of Thomas’s guests stood in his living room, an uncomfortable silence falling between them.
Thomas shifted a bit as he waited for someone to say something. The unicorn had taken a seat on the floor in the corner of his living room while the two CIA agents moved around the living room, looking at his furniture and decorations. Thomas assumed they were looking for spyware of something of the sort because they, sure as hell, weren't just admiring his decorations. Eventually, after a few uncomfortable minutes, Agent McConaughey broke the silence.
“Miss Luna, I believe it's safe.”
Luna, the unicorn, nodded before letting the hood fall off, revealing her face. Her fur was dark blue bordering purple, her eyes a cyan color, their sparkle dulled by the downtrodden expressions she wore. Thomas knew admittedly very little about ponies in general, but he knew for a fact that their hair, mane he corrected, didn’t typically sparkle like the night sky or float outwards as if pushed by an unfelt breeze.
“Woah," he breathed. He hadn’t much experience with magic, so seeing the unicorn's mane sparkle and flow as if it was an ethereal flame was quite the spectacle.
“Miss Luna, your quarters are over there,” Agent McConaughey said as he pointed to the recently added section of Thomas’s house. “We plan on bringing you your belongings tomorrow evening.”
The unicorn stood and absently nodded, the glum expression still on her face as she walked towards her room. Her horn had lit up as she twisted the nob with her magic and entered, the door closing gently as she disappeared from view. Agent McConaughey turned to face the Specialist with a newfound sneer. “Specialist William Thomas.”
“Yes, Agent?” he asked with a hint of trepidation.
“I want you to know we’ve read up on your file.”
“Oh?” a touch of nervousness tainted his voice.
“If we get even a single report of mistreatment of her or anything of that nature, you'll find yourself court-martialed faster than you can say 'Oh fuck.' This mission is too important for some asshole to fuck up,” the agent bitterly spat.
Thomas felt bitterness well up inside him, the agent was jumping to quite a few conclusions, but he couldn't really blame him. Not with how they were now. “Agent, I understand your concern, but you don’t have anything to worry about. That is well behind me now, and Miss Luna will be treated as well as I can manage. But if you don’t mind me asking what’s so important about her, besides being tall, she looks like a normal unicorn.”
The agent hadn't expected the question and regarded Thomas with a raised eyebrow, “Specialist, what do you know about the Equestrian civil war?”
Thomas shrugged, “I saw a headline in the paper.”
“Oh. Well, Specialist, that pony was an important part of it, a vital part. America was uninvolved during the war, so she decided to ask us for a haven for her and a few subordinates. We granted her request because the ruler of Equestria, Princess Celestia, has gotten more and more concerning with how she's been handling rebellion. You were chosen to host her while her subordinates were allowed to live here as residents.”
“Subordinates?" his eyes lit up with curiosity, "Is she some kind of general? And how bad was it to make her run from her home?”
“...I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”
Thomas sighed but didn’t press the issue. As he had expected, it was classified. As they were finishing their little exchange, the pony in question exited her room, unintentionally announcing her presence with the creak of a door. Drawing the eyes of Thomas, who did a double-take as he saw her without the cloak covering her body.
Her tail, unsurprisingly, was the same as her mane—free-flowing with a sparkling nightscape. She had a patch of darker blue fur on her flank where her 'cutie mark,' as the ponies called it, was. The mark was the image of a crescent moon. However, that wasn’t what truly stood out. Thomas had seen only a handful of ponies before, but he’d never seen one with both wings and a horn, like some kind of pegasus-unicorn crossbreed. The agent noticed his gaze and turned and faced Luna as well.
“Miss Luna, is your room comfortable enough?” The pegasus-unicorn silently nodded. “That’s good to hear. If that is all, we can leave.” The agent nodded towards his fellows, one of whom had been peering through the blinds, and they began to file out of the house, but before Agent McConaughey left, he turned and said. “Miss Luna, could you please come here for a moment?” She approached him, and he whispered something into her ear. Her face scrunched up in confusion, then she nodded and returned to her dour expression. After that, he left, giving Thomas a parting glare as he went. Luna returned to sitting in front of the couch on the hardwood floor.
Another uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Thomas just eyed the pegacorn—he was particularly proud of that name—observing her body language; despite not being human, the ponies, in general, weren't too difficult to read, especially with their big expressive eyes, and she was giving the floor an empty stare. "So?"
She slowly glanced up to him, and her frown disappeared as she gave him a passive look.
“Uh, what brings you to the States?” He asked in the hope that he could start some kind of conversation.
The pony didn’t vocally answer, but the reappearance of her frown made him regret asking. He mentally facepalmed and physically sighed, walked over to his couch, and sat down; the pegacorn watched him warily. He reached over and patted the seat closest to the pony. “Yah know, you don’t have to sit on the floor. You’ll probably be staying here for a while, so you might as well get comfortable.”
The pegacorn hesitated for a moment before she nodded and stood up. She boosted herself onto the couch using her forelegs and laid down, resting her head on the armrest, tucked her limbs beneath her in a most cat-like fashion; Thomas had to suppress a snort at the thought.
He felt a little guilty for being amused; the girl had lost her home, but then again, so had he. They relaxed on the couch for a few minutes in silence before he checked his watch for the time. Seeing it was 7:26, he supposed he could try and make breakfast. Maybe that would cheer up her solemn mood. But what did magical, talking horses eat? He remembered talking to one about food once, but he wasn't about to go outside and pick some flowers.
“Miss Luna?” He asked, keeping his tone low and soft.
She turned to him and gave him the same neutral expression.
“Would you like something to eat?”
The pegacorn took a moment to respond, but she nodded.
“What would you like to eat?”
Much to his relief, she answered. “Anything-’ her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, “-is fine, thank you.” He nodded and stood up. Progress!
“Alright, I’ll make some pancakes. You want one or two?”
“One,” she gave him a weak smile. He’d have to look more into the civil war in Equestria at some point. He read that the country had been torn apart by the two warring diarchs and half a dozen newly independent states, but he had read that four months ago. He wondered if she had been a leader or general of one of the revolutionary states before having her country crushed during the war. Maybe he hadn’t been all too truthful with the agent, but it wasn't like it mattered.
He poured the batter he had mixed into the pan. The more he had thought about it, the more he wanted to ask her directly, but he didn’t think she’d take that well. She was obviously still hurt by what had happened, and he wasn’t going to push her to tell him. If he pushed the magical horse enough, he'd probably end up as a frog; he chuckled at the thought, and he opened up his fridge, pulled out a jug of orange juice, and poured some into the two cups he had laid out, then he placed the last pancake on his plate. He looked over the two plates of pancakes and the accompanying glasses of orange juice and smiled, until he noticed that the one he had placed on Luna's plate was a little too brown around the edges; he used his spatula to replace one of his with her slightly burnt one. Then he grabbed Luna’s plate and drink and walked out of the kitchen.
Luna’s head swiveled to the kitchen door as she saw him enter the living room, and she flashed him a soft smile as he set her plate down on the end table next to her. “Thank you, Mister…” Her face fell as she realized she hadn’t gotten his name.
“William Thomas, you can call me Will, Tom, Tommy, or whatever,” He said, extending his hand. She reluctantly placed her hoof in his hand, and he gave it a firm shake.
“Thank you, Mister William.”
"That works too."
He walked back into the kitchen and fetched his plate, grabbing two forks and the bottle of syrup on his way back. He placed his plate on the end table on his side of the couch and laid the syrup on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He sat down with a contented sigh and handed a fork to Luna. Which she lifted from his hand with a dark bluish aura; the same aura surrounded her horn. She was using magic, he knew that, but it was still interesting to watch her move the fork around in the air so easily. It reminded Thomas of the Jedi using the force in Star Wars. He still had the tapes sitting in a box next to the television set. He heard that they were making a third movie before the war, but he supposed it had been canceled with the end of the world; he didn't even know if George Lucas had survived the nuclear holocaust.
Dismissed the dark thoughts from his mind and focused on enjoying his food. He and Luna ate in silence, giving Thomas time to think about what he should do about his new living arrangements. She had been courteous so far, so he supposed it wasn’t going to be too unpleasant, but he wondered how she would react if he ate meat, remembering one of his few times he had talked to a pony.
It had been on a visit to New Washington, and a male pony had randomly introduced himself to Thomas. While he had been uncomfortable at first, eventually, they had struck up a pleasant conversation. The stallion told him that he was curious about humanity as a whole and resolved to introduce himself to a random human to sate his curiosity; Thomas just so happened to be the first person he saw. Thomas had politely answered his questions and asked a few of his own, but when they inevitably came to the topic of diet, the pony had to take his leave. By politely sprinting away.
After they had finished their food and drinks, Thomas had offered to pick them up, to which Luna replied with a polite “Thank you.” After laying the dishes in his sink, he returned to his place on the couch. He quickly realized that he didn’t know what to do next. The pony seemed to be doing moderately better—she no longer had a frown and her eyes were a bit brighter—but he wanted to see if he could cheer her up fully. Then he had an idea.
“Hey, Miss Luna?” he grinned.
“Yes, Mister William?” she turned her head to face him.
“Have you ever watched Star Wars?”
She, of course, hadn’t, but what surprised him was that she had never seen an actual television. She said they were fancy devices of the nobles in her homeland, something she had no time to enjoy. Apparently, the only movie she had ever watched was a film in theaters with her friend and her friend’s friend. The film was based on the popular book series “Daring Doo.”
He knelt by the box filled with VHS tapes and searched around for the movie. He had acquired a lot of tapes over the years. Many he had owned before the war, some he had obtained from ruins, and a couple he had bought from people after arriving in the new world. They were one of his prized possessions. He would go to the ends of Earth and the New World to protect them. With the movie in the tape player, he took his spot on the couch, leaned back, and relaxed. He cast an eye towards Luna to see her reaction to the movie. She seemed to be amazed as the opening text crawl and music began. Thomas chuckled to himself; he remembered his first time watching A New Hope when he was fourteen; he had probably looked a lot like she did, mouth agape and wide-eyed as he saw the strange fictional planet of Tatooine. Growing up in the southeast, he knew heat but seeing a world entirely covered by a desert? Now that was something, and it astounded him as a child. All bright-eyed and filled with imagination, never expecting the horrors to come.
Thomas gritted his teeth; he hated where his train of thought kept going. He had no clue what was triggering it, but it was definitely new, he had managed to go six years without having to dwell too much on what had happened, but now every other thought in his head called his attention towards the war. It had begun to irritate him. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, just focusing on the movie and enjoying the awed reactions of the pony. Fortunately, she had begun asking him questions, and while it usually would have bothered him to talk during a movie, it provided the opportune distraction from his turbulent thoughts.
“How does the vessel travel through the heavens like that?”
“The ship isn’t real. It’s all just props or movie magic.”
“I thought humans could not perform magic?”
“Uh, it’s not real magic,” a small part of himself laughed at the apparent contradiction, “It’s special effects, like when they edit the film, they change certain things to make it look better. It’s a bit hard to explain; I’m just a cryptographer, not a director.”
She nodded her head and turned her attention back to the television, she gave him the occasional comment and question, but otherwise, her eyes were glued to the screen. Thomas smiled as he relaxed and wondered if she would want to watch more.
