I sat in the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse. The shades were pulled and the room was darkened, though I could still see. Their wall of pictures of ponies they had helped had expanded slightly since I last saw it. I did not know why Gabby the griffon’s picture was there. The CMC had not really helped her.
“Why did you call me here today?” I asked.
“We have a CMC emergency and need all hands on deck,” said Apple Bloom. “And the four of us are the only ones we could get here in time.”
“Of course. It is better than having to sit through Twilight trying to teach me a friendship lesson,” I said. “Knowing her, it would likely be something such as ‘Cordoba, don’t stab ponies, it isn’t nice.’”
“I thought Valiant was the one who was trying to be nice,” said Sweetie Belle.
I waved a hoof. “That is my point!”
The others nodded.
“So back the business we have to deal with today,” said Apple Bloom. “My brother has a crush!”
The three of them began to talk excitedly, their voices running together. My digital processors could sort it out later.
In the meantime, I did not know why my father was so insistent that I bring his tape recorder with me. It seemed to be an old, crude piece of technology. He had not shared his reason, but I suspected that he had a plan. It was certainly more likely than him not having a plan.
The Crusaders appeared to come to a decision.
“We’ll go undercover!” said Scootaloo. She put on a multicolored clown wig. “Call me Agent Rainbowhead.”
Sweetie put on a pair of nose glasses. “I’ll be Shimmering Spectacles, a librarian with a mysterious past.”
“And I'll be a pirate spy, a spyrate!” said Apple Bloom, putting on a pirate hat.
The one-item disguises would likely fool most ponies. Ponies are generally bad at seeing through disguises.
They all looked at me. “Well, do you have a disguise?” Apple Bloom asked.
It is always a good idea to have an alternate identity in mind and ready to go should the situation arise. I put on a pair of sunglasses. “Call me Imperial Crown.”
“All right,” said Sweetie. “If we’re going to look into Big Macintosh’s crush, we need to find a way to get to that weird equals-sign village where she lives.”
“I have a solution. A friend can carry us there,” I said.
A large VTOL aircraft with a face painted on the front landed outside. “Hello, I’m Vulcan Avenger.”
“I didn’t know you had a dragon friend!” exclaimed Scootaloo.
“It’s actually me, Tin Mare,” said Tin Mare.
Ponies are generally bad at seeing through disguises.
With introductions out of the way, we loaded aboard Tin Mare and took off for the weird equals-sign village. Apparently that was where Big Macintosh’s crush, Sugar Belle, lived.
“Did you see that?” said Apple Bloom as we flew. The others nodded. I did not see it, whatever it was.
When we arrived at the village, Mac did indeed appear to be making lovey-dovey eyes at some mare. He did not appear to be acting on his perceived desires, however.
“Well, that’s that, I guess,” said Apple Bloom.
“No it isn’t!” argued Scootaloo. “We came here to be spies and no spy I know has ever solved a case that quick!”
“How many spies do you know?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Well, none in particular,” said Scootaloo. “It’s more about what they do instead of what they call themselves. Everypony likes different labels, and who am I to judge?”
I evaluated that as a sound argument. The others apparently did, too.
“Anyway,” said Scootaloo, “we aren’t finished yet. Let’s take a closer look.”
We took a closer look. Sugar Belle appeared to be making lovey-dovey eyes at Mac in return.
“I do not suspect they will have sex,” said Tin Mare, landing gear partially retracted to crouch behind us.
“Good,” said Apple Bloom.
“What makes you say that?” Sweetie asked.
“Thermal analysis,” Tin Mare replied, her camera zooming in. “Mac likes her, but is not horny for her. I assess this means he does not want a relationship, or does not believe one is feasible.”
“Is she horny?” asked Scootaloo.
“Yes. Sugar Belle’s loins are burning with passion like a forest fire.”
The CMC all made disgusted faces. I lamented my lack of thermal sensors. Firsthand data of such things could be used for many applications, such as targeting vital spots.
“Did you see that?” said Sweetie just then. The others nodded. I did not see it, whatever it was.
“Still though,” said Apple Bloom, “This is so exciting! My big brother has his very first crush!”
Scootaloo frowned. “First crush? What about Cheerilee?”
“It doesn't really count when you trick a pony into drinking a love potion,” Sweetie reminded them.
“Well, we should still help out,” said Apple Bloom. She waved as Mac came out of the shop. “Hey, it’s me, Apple Bloom!”
Mac stopped. He looked at the other two CMC and squinted. His nostrils moved as if he were sniffing, which seemed to satisfy him as to their true identities. He still appeared lost when looking at myself and Tin Mare.
“You’ve got a crush on Sugar Belle and we want to help!” said Apple Bloom.
Mac hesitated and then shook his head. “Eenope.”
“But why not?” Apple Bloom asked.
Mac considered it and then said, “Won’t work.” He started to walk away.
“That’s no attitude to take if you intend to ‘score’ as they say,” observed Tin Mare. “She would gladly have sex with you.”
Mac stopped. “Eeyup.” He started to walk away again.
“Wait, how did you know?” Apple Bloom asked.
I assessed that it was likely due to his keen sense of smell. He had apparently identified Sweetie and Scootaloo by their scent, so it was probable that he had also been able to smell Sugar Belle’s arousal.
Mac did not seem inclined to say that, nor did he explain why he decided not to accept a seemingly obvious invitation.
A stallion with a carefully styled mane entered Sugar Belle’s shop. Superior smell sensing or not, he appeared to be hitting on her.
“Um, is it possible to have two crushes at once?” said Scootaloo. “Because it looks like Big Mac may not be the only pony Sugar Belle likes.”
“Hey Big Mac, where are you going?” called Apple Bloom.
“Home,” Mac replied.
“You can't let that guy get in the way of your one true love!” said Sweetie.
“You've got to take him down!” added Scootaloo.
“Eenope.”
Apple Bloom turned to me. “Somepony has to take him down.”
“Sí.” I drew my cutlass.
Mac was suddenly there, faster than I would have calculated. He blocked my way. “Eenope. She deserves to be happy. I can’t give her that.”
“So we’re just going to leave that pretty boy alone?” said Scootaloo.
“Eeyup.” Mac looked at us and then left.
I looked around. “So what am I supposed to stab now?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” said Sweetie.
The group of us loaded up to go home. “Did you see that?” said Scootaloo as we flew. The others nodded. I did not see it, whatever it was.
Arriving back in Ponyville, the group of us disembarked and went our separate directions. I headed for home.
On the way, I passed by the library. Twilight was out front, talking to Applejack. I stopped to talk with them. “Isn’t it ironic how you call Twilight ‘sugarcube’ because she’s such a square?”
“I call everypony sugarcube, so it isn’t ironic,” said Applejack.
“And I’m not that much of a square,” said Twilight.
Applejack’s lips twisted and she looked away.
I kept walking. My father was comparing two Hawaiian-print shirts when I arrived. He looked up as I came in and tossed the shirts aside. “I don’t even know why I was looking at those. Probably because Rarity isn’t around to tell me what I should wear when I need to wear things, and there’s this island-themed party coming up. It’s some Jimmy Buffett shit.”
I did not know who Jimmy Buffett was, but resolved to find out.
My father patted the workshop table. “Get on up here and let’s take a look. Do you have the tape recorder?”
I gave it to him. He hooked up a few wires to a few pieces of equipment and spent several minutes analyzing data. He replayed my day.
Big Macintosh refusing sex did not appear to surprise him.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I know why,” he said. “But it’s a secret. Mac told me once. It’s important to him, and I promised to keep it to myself.”
“You would not even tell me?”
He smiled. “I may be a man without principles, but at least I'm stubborn.”
He then sighed. “But I’m trying to be a nice guy now, so I should probably grow some principles.”
There was a frustrated banging on the door. The security camera showed a frustrated Wachowski outside.
“I know you’re in there!” she shouted.
He pushed the intercom button. “I know you’re out there.”
That appeared to throw her for a loop for a moment. He smirked. She said, “Look, stop being childish about this. I want to talk to you about this naughty/nice list.”
“I believe Santa specifically told you that it was your job,” he said.
“And I’m finished with it. I wanted to discuss the results with you, now that I’ve finally managed to find you.” Wachowski appeared to be struggling to control her voice.
My father pondered for a moment and then hit the unlock button. Wachowski appeared surprised that he had actually opened the door, but after a moment came in.
She looked around with interest at the room. There were a lot of electronics and glowing screens. I did not consider the sights quite so engaging.
“Oh, while you’re here, you know something about numbers, right?” he said to her. “I was just reviewing some data. I was hoping it could help me track down the serial killer.”
“You’re still working on that?” Wachowski said.
He gave her a flat look. “What else is more important? Arguing who should or shouldn’t merely be considered naughty or nice?”
She grumbled, but looked at the equipment he indicated. “Is this your famous tape recorder?”
“Not to mention the file from Cordoba’s memory banks. I got a setup to transfer her data from close range via wi-fi so no external plugs were required.”
I was pleased by this setup. External plugs entailed too many entendres.
The two of them sat down to review the data.
“So while we’re doing this, we can talk about what you plan to do next,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Your reputation precedes you, Valiant. I know you’ve got a plan to get out of your job. I know you’ve already got a setup for a sunset to ride off into.”
“Preposition use,” he said. “I’ve got a setup for a sunset into which I will ride. I would have thought you of all people would know that. Not to mention, we aren’t talking about Sunset Shimmer here. No puns. None.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I know.”
She shot him a look. He glanced back mildly. “Do you blame me? Would you want to be stuck in my position for all eternity? Would you want to be stuck in your postion for all eternity?”
Wachowski grumbled. “Maybe you’re right, but-”
“Wow, there’s a phrase I don’t hear often. People usually have very firm opinions about whether I’m right or not, no maybe about it.”
Wachowski was about to retort when my father noticed something in the data. “Hang on, there’s something missing.”
That did not sound good.
Wachowski saw it too. “Yeah, it’s…”
They both looked at me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There are a couple of skips,” he said. “I probably wouldn’t have noticed them if it weren’t for the tape recorder backup. Well, and if I hadn’t been specifically looking for them because I had a sneaking suspicion.”
“Way to pat yourself on the back,” Wachowski muttered.
“Oh, I can do better than that. I’m also hammered right now and still better at data analysis than you.” He waved an empty tequila bottle around.
“It’s not fair that you use that stupid GUI as a crutch for your minimal skills! Real geeks use pure numbers!”
“Yeah, and I bet you’re such a hipster that you still prefer the old green and black CRT monitors.” He waved his hoof as if she was a simpleminded fool spewing brainless nonsense. I suspected that was in fact the case.
My father went on. “Unfortunately, these skips in the data are not natural. It clearly would have looked different if there was an error or natural interference.”
“What does this mean?” I asked.
He put on a serious look. “Cordoba, I’m talking about the times when the CMC appeared to notice something that you didn’t.”
The meaning was quite clear. “I find this troubling.”
“So do I. And I suspected that it had been going on. That’s why I had you carry the tape recorder today. Analog is a lot harder to hack.”
“I was hacked?”
“I think you were. More importantly, I think that was how this serial killer has been getting such good information and has been able to stay ahead of us.”
He looked at me, looked away, closed his eyes, sighed, and looked back at me. “Goddamnit.”