Chapter 2
Sun News, Print Division, Fillydelphia
10:03 AM
Cold Type slapped the newspaper down on his desk, moving his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "Eve," he said. "Let's talk."
Across the table from him, a tiny blue unicorn checked her watch. "Sure, boss, but seriously, I've got to get back to the newsroom. Our team is due in Manehattan any minute now, and I want to make sure they can get a fiber-optic back to the main office. I can't imagine why you dragged me in here when we're in the middle of the biggest story of the year, but okay."
"Evening Edition," he said.
"What?" she said impatiently. "What is it??"
"Look. You're fired."
She just stared at him with her mouth open for a second. "Are you bucking kidding me?"
"There's no need for that kind of language, here," said Cold Type.
"Buck that! Horseradish! I'll say it all!"
He rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why we're letting you go."
"You're darn right, I'm wondering," she said, pointing a hoof at him. "I've always been like this. But up until today, nopony cared as long as I brought in the numbers."
"Eve, this isn't some snap decision. This has been coming on for months. And I'll bet that if you think real hard, you can figure out why."
"Bigots," she said. "Bigots at the helm."
"It doesn't matter what you think of our sponsors, Eve! Because they're the sponsors. Without them, there is no newspaper!"
"Well, in my defense, I have tried to stay out of the spotlight--"
"We saw you on the PBS Newshour last week, trying to assuage fears about the trade deal, talking up human art and science. You couldn't stop singing the humans' praises! Didn't you think the board of directors owned TVs? Were you trying to get fired??"
"But that's not--"
"They were livid, Eve," said Cold Type, collapsing back into his chair. "And they've been up my plot all week. You know I've covered your rump more times than your cutie-mark, but you're finally out of chances. Their message was pretty clear: you, out, now."
"Humans aren't the enemy," she said, slamming her hoof on his desk. "Darn it, Cold Type, they're just... they're lost souls! The humans don't have divine leadership like we do."
"Ha!" said Cold Type. "The majority of them might disagree!"
"I'm not talking about religion, Cold Type. I'm talking about the Sisters-- something flesh-and-blood that we can turn to in times of crisis and weakness. The humans cast about aimlessly, searching for purpose, for guidance, in a way we haven't for a hundred generations. You might call humans savage, but everything in their history is a result of trial-and-error. And the result, of course, is war, disease, crime... But don't you see, we can help them. The people of Earth need our help."
"You're arguing with the wrong guy, Eve," said Cold Type, with a wave of his hoof. "I'm only the rubber stamp."
"Well," she said, setting her mouth into a hard line. "I guess I just got stamped on. Freedom of expression only goes as far as the gold coin, right?"
"You can't possibly be learning that for the first time," said Cold Type. He dug around in his desk for a second, then handed her a packet of papers. "Your severance package. We're going to want you to stay on for a couple of weeks in a consulting role while Scoop Story gets acclimated to his new responsibilities. We have faith in him, of course, but it'll be better if you can oversee things while we work out the kinks."
"You want me to train my replacement!?" she shouted.
"Pretty much. Look, Eve, it's all in your contract. If you want to walk out of here today, fine, but you're not taking your severance pay with you."
"I have to say, Cold Type, this is the first time I've ever wished I had fingers, because I would flip you the biggest bird in the world."
"You could always just slam the door on your way out."
Now that he'd suggested it, she couldn't. "This is horse-apples!" she said, throwing the packet of papers back onto his desk. "You can train your own blasted manager. And the next time you see me, Cold Type, it will be on the front page of the competition."
"Goodbye, Evening Edition," said Cold Type. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasure."
She slammed the door anyway.
* * *
Equestrian Ministry of Justice, Canterlot
10:45 AM
Double Jeopardy was young-- a rookie, really. But in his six years as a Crown Prosecutor for the Canterlot Ministry of Justice, DJ had already experienced a number of gruesome cases and convicted his share of psycho-killer ponies. In comparison to monsters like that, this wealthy, white-collar criminal sitting across the table from him seemed utterly harmless. DJ knew better. Sometimes the hardest criminals to deal with, he thought, are the ones who never even see their victims faces.
"Well?" asked DJ, once the pony defendant and his pony lawyer had gotten a chance to look over the documents. "Not good enough?"
"Not good enough?" exclaimed the lawyer. "Prosecutor, this deal is a hoof to the face! 100 months in the Cloudsdale Penitentiary for embezzlement? Outrageous!"
"Counselor," said DJ to the lawyer, "your client bilked twenty-three separate charity organizations out of tens-of-millions of bits. I'm not being metaphorical when I say that he took food out of the mouths of orphans. If we go to trial, he's going to get a lot worse than eight years in a minimum security cloud-castle."
"Your evidence won't stand up in front of a jury," said the lawyer, "and you know it! Your office should have thought twice about bluffing me, Double Jeopardy, because I don't blink easily. You want a trial, you've got a trial."
A mail-colt poked his head into the meeting. He held up a manila folder. "You asked for this, Prosecutor?"
"Yes, thank you," said DJ, accepting the package. He handed it straight to the defendant. "This is for you. I don't think you'll want him seeing it though." He motioned at the lawyer.
The defendant looked at DJ suspiciously. His lawyer leaned over to grab the package, but the defendant yanked it away and opened it. He pulled out a series of photographs and scanned them as sweat broke out across his forehead.
"How the hay did you get these?" he demanded.
"Oh, well," said DJ, "after what you did, there really wasn't a place the judge didn't let us search. We found some other things, too, but this was my favorite."
"It's not illegal," said the defendant.
"I really don't think ponies will care," said DJ.
"Darn it, let me see those!" said the lawyer, grabbing for them again.
"You're dismissed," said the defendant. "You're dismissed! Go back to the office and wait for my call!"
The lawyer stood up. He straightened his vest. "Fine," he said. "Good luck on your own." He left.
"Who else has seen these?" said the defendant, once he was gone.
"Just me and my boss and the detective who found them," said DJ. "And as long as it doesn't go to trial, nopony else ever has to know."
The defendant seethed. "I'll take the deal," he said at last. "Just show me where to sign." He finished up and the bailiffs escorted him away.
DJ scooped the file folder off the table and walked back to his office with it. He pulled out a few of the photographs and looked at them with macabre amusement. The photos depicted a pony dinner party, attended by a small number of guests in evening wear, all equines, including the defendant himself. In the middle of the table was a huge roast turkey as the centerpiece, but there also was pork sausage, fried chicken, steak, veal, fish. Plenty of oily apricot brandy to make sure the feast wouldn't kill anypony.
"Barbarians," said DJ, his stomach churning. He couldn't believe that this of all things had become the new, bizarre pony fetish. The defendant would have been ruined by these pictures.
The phone on the desk rang. DJ shoved the photographs back into the folder and tossed them in the cabinet. Then he answered. "Crown Prosecutor's office, this is DJ."
"DJ? Oh, thank Celestia I caught up to you."
"Evening Edition! What's going on? Are you in trouble?"
"I... damn it, DJ, I got fired."
"Sun News let you go? You've been there since you graduated! I can't believe it."
"It was my fault, DJ. I was shooting my mouth off about the humans again, and the hand-that-fed-me bit back. I had it coming and I knew it. I was just in denial."
"Hey, come on sis, this isn't your fault. I mean, I guess it kind of is. But Sun News just wasn't a good fit for you anymore. You could always go work for EQD..."
"I just got fired, DJ! I can't exactly walk over to the biggest paper in the kingdom and sit down behind a desk."
"Okay, okay. Here's another idea. Why don't I talk to August about a position at the American Embassy? They could probably use the help."
"Work for the humans?"
"Sure, why not? I can tell you from experience that they're not all murderous colonialists."
"I know that, DJ. It's just... I mean, she's with the United States. I'm not sure how I feel about them."
"How about I just ask her and we go from there?"
"Sure."
"Are you going to be okay? Really? If you hopped on the train, you could be here by dinnertime."
"DJ, tonight I just want to go to a bar where I don't know anypony and drown my sorrows in a mug of cider. I'll take a rain-check, though. And thanks for asking August. Let me know what she says."
"Okay, sis. I've got to go. Oh, uh, one last question."
"Yeah?"
"What do you think about eating meat?"
There was a long pause. "I think races that eat meat tend to bully others. But the humans are omnivores, so who the hay knows? Why, you getting hungry for a burger or something?"
"No," said DJ emphatically. "It's just a case I'm working on. Forget I said anything. I'll call you later. Take care of yourself, Eve."
"I will, big-bro," she said, and hung up.
* * *
Ivory Stables Condo Complex, Canterlot
2:02 AM
The moon was high in the sky by the time August dragged herself through the front door of her apartment. The only light was coming from the microwave clock. She tossed her keys on the counter and let out a huge groan.
"That bad, huh?" said Double Jeopardy, plodding in from the hallway.
"You're still up?" said August.
"Are you really surprised? I've just been finalizing the embezzlement case. Defendant ended up taking the deal after all, for some reason."
"Lucky break for you guys," said August. "We could sure use one of those right about now over at the UN."
DJ went to the icebox and threw something into the microwave. "No clue who did it yet?"
August collapsed into the couch and kicked off her shoes. "Department of Justice said they'd get back to us. We had to conduct the Trade Summit today with the bombing hanging over everyone's head."
"That sounds like one heck of an ursa major in the room."
"It was. Nopony wanted to commit, since everything is up in the air. We only have until the end of the week to make our case, and now... now, I don't even know."
"Don't worry, you'll figure it out," said DJ. The microwave beeped and he started preparing something in the kitchen.
"What are you making?" said August. "Smells good for a change."
"Oh, you're hilarious." DJ came in with two plates and handed one to August with chopsticks. "I figured you'd be stumbling in late like this, so I got Chinese take-out for both of us and saved it."
"Oh my God, thank you," said August, digging in. She wolfed down the orange chicken right away. Tofu, of course, but August did not care in the slightest bit. "Vegetarian Earth food, you are the best stallion in Equestria, DJ."
"Be sure to mention that to your father every chance you get," said DJ, maneuvering some egg foo yung into his mouth. August marveled to watch him use chopsticks. Ponies would never reach the level of manual dexterity enjoyed by humans, but the malleable, gel-like surface of their hooves could still perform some amazing feats.
"You've got nothing to fear from Dad," said August. "He likes you just fine. And as long as you keep treating me like an alicorn Princess, I don't foresee any issues. If anything, I think he's worried I'm turning into a pony."
"Please don't," said DJ. "It's so hot that you're a human."
"I honestly don't understand the attraction," said August. "I mean, you ponies are so damned cute! But humans? We're kind of, uh, lumpy. And we have beady little eyes, like a shrimp."
"No way," said DJ. "Compared to equines, humans are so long-limbed and graceful. Like beautiful willow trees in motion."
"Are you quoting something?"
"Yes, but that's not the point. The lines of the human body are ethereal, fae, at least in my eyes. You make ponies look like fire-hydrants in comparison."
"Harsh!" she said with a laugh. "And I am so far from graceful."
"You're graceful where it counts," said DJ with a half-smile, and he started getting that look in his eye.
So did she. Her cell-phone was ringing, but she didn't give a shit. Let it ring. She'd call them back in twenty minutes. "I bucking love you," she said as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his warm body.
"And I love you," he said. "Bucking."
Suddenly the front-door slammed open and a half-dozen Secret Service agents rushed in.
"What the hell!?" said August and DJ together as they both leaped up from the couch.
"Package is secure," said the lead agent into his wrist-comm.
"You can say that again," muttered DJ.
"What is the meaning of this, Tomlin?" said August.
Agent Tomlin turned to her. "You weren't answering your phone, Miss Lansing. There's been an attempt on Ambassador Harry Kobayashi's life."
"What?" demanded August. "Where? How?"
"We don't have those answers, yet, Miss Lansing. Just stay put for now." He made a hand-signal and two of the agents broke off to head back into the bedroom.
"Uh," said DJ, "there's private stuff back there."
"It'll be okay, they won't touch anything," said August. She was far more used to this than she liked. The best thing was just to let the Secret Service do what they needed to do, so she could get back to her life. In the meantime, August picked up her phone and dialed Bill Wackenhut.
He answered immediately. "August," he said. "I was just calling you. Harry's been shot."
"Shit," she breathed. "Yeah, the Secret Service just put us on alert over here at my apartment. What the hell happened?"
"I don't know, he left the office a little after you did. The next thing we know, he's dialing 911 from his cell over on Shining Armour way, by the new Canterlot Costco. They found him almost dead in a pool of blood. We're talking cinematic assassination shit here, August. They're taking him to Starswirl Memorial. Beyond that, I've got nothing."
"Is Diplomatic Security with you, Bill?"
"Yeah. They are. And anyone trying to make me next on the hitlist is going to meet my other friends, Smith and Wesson!" Bill was one of those Southern Democrats.
"Remember, shoot to wound," said August sarcastically, "we need the perp alive to answer questions."
"Mock me if you'd like, but if Harry had been armed tonight, then maybe--"
"Bill, I'm not going to debate the Second Amendment with you. What are we doing about this?"
He took a deep breath. "I think we're going to have to delay the Summit."
"That was my thought, too," said August, "But the investors from Stalliongrad and Fillydelphia are only here until Friday. If we don't hook them by then, it's going to slam the brakes on this whole process."
"And your dad could lose the election in November," said Bill. "Right. Shit."
"Look," said August, resting her forehead in her hand. "Bill, I am just going to have to take over for Harry in the meantime. This is too important to throw in the towel."
"My backup's gone, August," said Bill. "You know Tracy went back through the portal last week, and it's been hard enough getting along without her. If you take on Harry's workload, then someone is going to have to pick up the slack for you on the other side."
"Maybe we should go down to the Canterlot Walmart and see if they've got any Communications Directors in the sale bin." That's when she noticed DJ waving his forelegs around like crazy. August put her hand over the phone's mouthpiece and said, "What is it?"
"My sister needs a job," said DJ.
"The one with Sun News in Fillydelphia? I thought that paper was anti-human."
"But she's not. That's why they let her go. August, she was an Editor in Chief. She knows how to run a newsroom. Maybe she can help you out."
August looked at him, not wanting to commit until she'd met the mare in question. But DJ was a good judge of character, and his sister certainly had the right resume. It was worth a shot, especially with things so close to the line.
"Bill," she said into the phone, "I might have a solution. What are you doing?"
"Well, I was sleeping, but now I'm wired as shit. So I think I'll go down to the hospital-- I mean horsepital--" (she could almost hear his eyes roll) "-- and talk to the doctors in person."
August checked the time. The sun would be up soon. "Look," she said into the phone, "let's compromise. We'll do a half-day today on the Summit, cut all the pageantry and stick to nuts and bolts. That will give me the morning to see if I can't put a few of the pieces back in our Jenga stack before the whole thing comes down on us."
"Okay. Just try not to hire any more ponies, okay? With you in charge, Congress is going to insist that the Embassy has gone native. No more ponies, August. Do you hear me?"
August didn't say anything.
"Goddamit, August," he said.
She hung up.
The phone rang in her hand. Blocked number. A chill went through August's body as she hit the talk button. "Lansing."
"It's Lukas," said the young German-British voice. "Sorry to call you on this number, but I'm over at UN Justice and our cell-phones don't work in here. Listen, August, Celestia sent over a few of her best pony diviners to try a temporal-luminescence echo-location spell and--"
"Layman's terms," said August.
"It's some sort of time-window. Like security-vid, only without the camera, ja? August, it was ponies that bombed the Manehattan Embassy."
August frowned. "Are you sure we can trust the diviners accuracy?"
"As much as we trust Celestia," said Lukas. "That's what she told us. Also, FBI's got a preliminary report on the Manehattan Embassy: plain, old, railroad-grade dynamite. Simple, but effective. That's a pony's style, don't you think?"
"Great," said August. "If it leaks out that it was ponies, they're going to hand Speaker Lomax the keys to the kingdom. Look, keep on this thing with the Equestrian Divination Corps. I've got to interview a prospective Comms Director this morning. In the meantime, whoever gets first-wind of Harry's condition calls the others, deal?"
"Deal," said Lukas, and he hung up.
"Miss Lansing," said Agent Tomlin. "This area is secure, but we're going to leave a few extra agents here tonight."
"Actually, I've got to head back to the office," said August with a weary sigh. "But you're more than welcome to tag along."
"Here," said DJ, texting a phone number to August. "My sister's name is Evening Edition, 'Eve' for short. You wanted a stroke of luck, and I think she's it."
"Thanks, stud," said August, then she collapsed against him for a moment while he hugged her tightly. "Sorry our date got ruined."
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," said DJ. "Spock said that, and you know he's always right."
"I love you so much," she said and kissed him. August couldn't help but notice one of the agents had turned away with a queasy look on his face. One day, they'll understand, she thought for the thousandth time. She looked back at DJ and gave his soft ear a tug. "I'll call you at lunch and let you know how things went with Eve."
"Sure, when should I tell her to meet you?"
"Eleven will be fine." August stood up like a creaky scarecrow. "Jesus," she sighed, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her house-keys. "Back to the salt mines. Shall we, gentlemen?" And the Secret Service escorted her out the door.
* * *
