//------------------------------// // 31. Just For Kicks // Story: Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies // by Georg //------------------------------// Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies Just For Kicks “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” — Bruce Lee, Striking Thoughts - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 9:05 P.M. Wednesday June 24, 2015 Location: Hyatt Regency Hotel, Wichita Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “So, tomorrow night can we go to the dojo, right?” For all intents and purposes, Goose looked like a begging puppy, and was just as irresistible. The problem was reality. “Tomorrow we’re going to the Hutchinson Cosmosphere, and their salt mine,” said Karla. “Which is nice, because I’ve been in the state almost a year and the FBI never sent me to visit either. The salt mines are really big and really deep underground, so maybe you can get some flying time down there. Since the Boeing aircraft hangers were a bust, that is.” That took a little of the starch out of the perky batpony. She had flown in the hangars, but with all of the chaos of the day, there had nearly been a catastrophic crash at the end, and that had set her back nearly as much as Widget’s nervous breakdown. The two ponies had developed far more than just a guard-guarded relationship. They covered for each other’s weaknesses, and tag-teamed Karla like professional troublemakers. Widget had been poking her stylus at Karla’s phone during the conversation, and promptly perked up with, “It’s only an hour’s drive between them. We can go to the dojo after.” “We’re going to have to get there first.” Claire pointed out the window at the crowd of people standing in front of the Hyatt, waving cameras and microphones. “It seems your people’s request to be left alone by the press worked right up until now. Wana sic Goose on ‘em?” “No,” said Karla before Goose could respond. “They’re our people press, so I’ll go chase them off. Although,” she admitted, “it would be a positive for public relations if some of the ponies wanted to tell our hosts how much they’ve enjoyed their day in Wichita. Anybody?” A few hooves went up in the bus, although most of the ponies looked genuinely spooked by the chaotic crowd of reporters. “I’ll go calm them down,” said Karla as the bus came to a halt rather than plow through the Fourth Estate, no matter how tempting the thought was. Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the opening door and addressed the crowd that pressed forward, who were all shouting at the top of their lungs. “Gentlemen!” she shouted. It took several times until she was able to make herself heard, and although she was slightly tempted to fire a shot in the air to calm them down, it would make no end of trouble, so she resisted. It did not look like the press was going to give the ponies even the slightest bit of slack, so interviews this evening were probably a bust. At this rate, the jittery ponies were probably going to spend a good chunk of the evening coming to her for reassurance, and her sleep deficit was only going to get deeper. Her resulting short temper did not help when one of the reporters wedged himself to the front of the crowd and stuck a finger right in her face. “The people have a right to know about the alien’s plans here on Earth, and you have no authority to obstruct our— Yeeeahhh!” To be honest, she really did not think she had broken the prodding finger, and one of his fellow reporters had probably nudged him in the middle of his tirade, so the scratch on her nose was most likely accidental. Then again, holding onto the damaged digit kept the obnoxious reporter’s mouth shut, so… “Either he goes over there—” Karla jerked her head toward an open patch of grass outside of the hotel’s immediate vicinity “—or you all leave. Right now! You’re frightening our guests, and I’m not having it. Any volunteers to transport our reluctant reporter?” Two of the more hefty cameramen took hold of an elbow each and guided the angry man away, leaving a much more subdued group looking at Karla when she began talking again. “I’ll see if I can convince five ponies to talk with you this evening over there on the south side of the hotel,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You will be polite, calm, and examples of what humanity should be when faced with guests. Huddle up and pick your best interviewers, and split up the footage however you want when you’re done, but when they say they’re done, you’re done.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the hotel. “If you need me, I’ll be in the hot tub. Don’t need me.” - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 9:59 P.M. Wednesday June 24, 2015 Location: Hyatt Regency Hotel hot tub, Wichita Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “I am so fired, I am so fired…” Karla Anacostia opened one eye as the door to the pool room opened and the Terrible Trio came in with one swimming suit between them, although Widget was wearing a ‘Wichita State Shockers’ t-shirt to cover most of her shaved patches and a USS Wichita ball cap that had been modified to accommodate a horn. Claire Bruener gave a cheerful wave to Nick, who was resting at the edge of the pool after swimming laps, but she was almost bowled over by a bounding naked (or at least unarmored) batpony, who dove in with a huge splash. “Cowabunga!” called out Nick, followed by a startled yelp when Goose surfaced right underneath him. “Girl! Watch where that nose goes!” Claire helped Widget settle down into the hot tub next to Karla and stuck a dry towel under her plastic-wrapped foreleg. Her own entry into the water was much more subdued, and with more than a few looks over her shoulder at the two idiots splashing each other in the pool. “Good news,” said Claire. “Mister Acosta’s not going to press charges. Of course that may have had something to do with the state troopers who visited him while the paramedics were taping up his hand.” Karla sank lower in the water until only her nose and mouth were above the bubbles. It helped keep her from hearing anything else while she repeated, “I am so fired, I am so fired…” “And I got a call on my new phone,” declared Widget, waving the iPhone in question regardless of the pool water all around. “Mister President wanted to know if there was anything I needed when he visits on the weekend to give us our medals, so I told him I wanted you with me. And Claire,” she added. “Because you two are my favorite people friends.” Karla vanished under the bubbling water. “I don’t think she’s looking forward to Saturday,” said Claire. - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 11:59 P.M. Wednesday June 24, 2015 Location: Manhattan Regional Airport, Manhattan Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “I am so looking forward to Saturday.” US Secret Service Agent O’Malley stretched with a yawn that popped his jaw while walking toward the terminal. “We were in Kansas during January when Renegade had a speech in Lawrence, but that was strictly in-and-out. Secretary Johnson had a Landon Lecture at K-State back in May, but we weren’t involved there.” “I’d think the towns would all blur together after a while. Other than the ponies in this one, of course. Wonder where they’re hiding.” Agent Washington took a long look around the otherwise plebeian airport terminal building where their government aircraft had parked, and in particular the uniformed police officer walking their direction. “You’ll learn to see each town as different in their own ways, regardless of alien visitors. Hello, Captain Rietz,” added Conner with his hand outstretched. “You must be Agent O’Malley from the Secret Service,” said the leggy brunette with her own welcoming smile and handshake. “Welcome to Kansas. I’ve been selected as RCPD liason for the duration of your stay, so please feel free to contact me if you have any questions. Enterprise has the rental cars for your officers, we’ve expedited hotel space at the Holidome, and made arrangements with the Equestrians for a member of their Night Guard to conduct a walk-through of the scheduled activities. We thought doing it at night would cut down on the reporters,” she added, sounding slightly embarrassed. “They’ve been following the Equestrians like mosquitoes, and I can understand most of their enthusiasm, but—” Captain Rietz let out a quick huff of frustration. “Are they all this bad in Washington?” “I could tell you stories,” started O’Malley, “but the Secret Service keeps its secrets. Did you say one of their soldiers was going to meet us tomorrow?” “I’m sorry!” The voice drifting down from above was angelic and frazzled, like some sort of fairy creature being pursued by trolls, and Conner felt an unreasoning urge to rush to her defense even if she was somewhere up in the sky above him. “We tried to leave Wichita in time to get back here, but Standing Water saw the Braum’s ice cream store in Salina since we didn’t want to travel cross-country without a trans ponder and we were following the highways but we got a little lost but the nice people at the Lion’s Den store pointed us in the right direction—” It was a pony. It took several blinks to recognize that simple fact, mostly because of the color scheme. Even at night, in the reflected light from the airport terminal, the pegasus practically glowed pink, in such an aggressive tint that it tended to grab onto every neuron in an unwary brain. And just when Connor managed to come to terms with the iridescent pink drifting down out of the sky, the orange of her mane and tail ambushed any recovered neurons and proceeded to flog them mercilessly. If the colors were not bad enough, her shocking orange mane was in the process of unwinding from a tight braid, leaving a cascade of flowing color around her neck as she touched down lightly on the asphalt tarmac, still talking as fast as she could make words. “—and there was this big truck beside the road and the driver was looking under the hood so I went down to see if I could help but he banged his head on the metal and his wife did not seem to like us there and I remember what happened the last time I tried to help a car that had pulled over and I know there were a lot of collisions afterward but it was dark tonight so I thought it wouldn’t happen again. But it did,” she added. “I’m sorry.” “I was following that on the radio⁽*⁾ while waiting,” said Captain Rietz. “Only a five car pile-up by Abilene, and all minor fender-benders. Specialist Dahlia Thermal, I’d like you to meet the US Secret Service members who will be in charge of the President’s security detail, Senior Agent O’Malley and…” (*) Sam was missing the current drama where the Highway Patrol was pulling three kilos of cocaine and meth out of the truck while arresting the driver and his wife. — “Agent Washington.” The black man stuck out his hand to shake and nearly jumped back when a dark shape on the pegasus’ back shifted positions and two curious eyes opened up. “Mama?” asked the little blue pegasus foal, shaking some windblown mane out of his face. “Home?” “Not quite yet, Standing Water. You can run around here a little, but don’t get too far away.” The colorful pegasus shrugged out from under some sort of metal crossbar, which was when Conner finally realized she had been towing an extremely minimalist cart, which was barely more than a pair of extremely small bicycle wheels and a padded passenger seat, with two small footpegs and no place at all to hang on. The hefty pegasus colt was almost too large for Thermal’s backpack carrier, and she had to twist around in some… interesting ways to get him extracted. “Run! Run!” No sooner had the colt’s hooves touched the ground than he was off like a shot to the other Secret Service agents coming out of the aircraft, bouncing around them with short flaps of his wings and exuberant cries of, “Play!” “I’m sorry,” said Thermal again. “He’s so much like his father.” “Your husband must be one heck of an energetic guy,” said Agent Washington. “Is he here on Earth with you?” Thermal shook her head, making the cascade of orange mane bounce around her like some pornographic movie star getting ready to shoot a sex scene. “Oh, no. He’s in VanHoover with a few thousand bits of jewelry out of the police evidence locker and a floozy from the Parking Division, but we have a number of leads in that area, and hope to have him in custody soon. Are you married, Agent Washington?” The way the sexy pegasus said the words in that porn star voice was almost an invitation… Well, not almost, and in fact could be considered an engraved invitation on letterhead with gilded edges, so Conner quickly stepped into the conversation to prevent his junior agent from making some sort of extradimensional faux pas. “He’s been happily married to a beautiful woman for three years now, and has the most adorable newborn that I’m sure he’d be willing to talk about for hours, but right now I think we should focus on the job at hand.” “Oh!” Conner had heard about people jumping up in the air when they were startled, but people did not simply stick there in mid-hop like pegasi, and in particular when she put such a vibrant collection of colors at nose-length in combination with her rampant disregard for periods or commas. “I’m sorry, Agent Washington. If you would be seated, we can take a look at the preparations for Mister President’s visit and I can fly you out to the farm since it’s just up the road and it’s so easy to fly at night here since there aren’t any cloud structures but we only have an hour before your moon sets which seems really strange that your princesses don’t keep your sun and moon synchronized. Sam, can you watch Standing Water for me?” “No problem,” said Captain Rietz. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew a sharp whistle, which earned her about forty pounds of energetic young pegasus to the chest a few moments later. “Oof, you giant puppy! No, don’t lick my face. The makeup can’t be good— Phuphttth!” “Thank you, Sam!” declared the vibrant-colored pegasus before ducking underneath her harness again and shedding the saddlebags over her rump with an additional wiggle that attracted the undivided attention of every male human within a few hundred feet. “I’ve got one bottle of formula in the bag in case he gets thirsty, and don’t let him poop in the potted plants. Come on, Agent Washington. Let’s get started.” Then there was a whoosh of air, and Conner found himself without his trainee. “Are they… um… all like that?” he asked the police officer, who was holding onto the pegasus colt so he did not go chasing off into the dark sky after his mother. “I mean… she’s in their military?” “Recent hire in the Night Guard, from what I’ve been told,” managed Samantha while getting a better grip on the colt. “The police got invited to watch a sparring demonstration they had with the Rangers one evening in the woods. She can hold her own with any of their guards, and she makes Rangers go flying through the air with the greatest of ease. And— umph —she can wrestle Standing Water, which should qualify her for the WWF. Welcome to Kansas, and the unique creatures within.” - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 10:04 A.M. Thursday June 25, 2015 Location: Discovery Center vicinity — Topeka, Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “Now gather around,” said the older man, squatting down in the grass. “My name is Joe Collins, and while we’re waiting for the smoke to clear—” he gave a quick glance in the direction of the glass-lined Discovery Center and the several fire engines around it “—I thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to some creatures who are very much like yourselves.” “You mean ponies?” asked Applebloom. “I didn’t think you have pegasusus on your planet,” said Scootaloo. “I didn’t mean to start the fire,” said Sweetie Belle with a dejected groan. “It was just a vending machine, and I thought hot chocolate would be—” Joe held out a hand and patted the depressed unicorn on her puffed-up mane, being careful to avoid the horn. “It was just a fluke,” he said, trying to sound at reassuring as possible. “Probably a short circuit. But while we’re waiting for them to make the building safe again, I want everyone to look around in the grass for one of these.” He produced a photograph of a speckled green-and-black lizard. “There may not be any in the immediate vicinity, so you’ll have to spread out—” “Found one,” declared a lanky young unicorn named Snails, who had his nose almost against the ground. “Ooo, and here’s another one on this rock, getting warm.” It was a little discouraging, since the children he normally had out on a lizard hunt always took most of an hour to find several of the lizards, but Joe took it in stride and picked up the first one to show his group of different students, who gathered close around him. “This little fellow—” “It’s a girl lizard,” said Snails, which was a little disconcerting since sexing them was not exactly an easy task, and he was supposed to be the expert. “This little girl,” said Joe, “is known generally as an Italian Wall Lizard, or podarcis siculus which is Greek for agile feet.” “Ooooo,” said Snails, who was watching cross-eyed as the other lizard crawled up his nose in search of a higher elevation. “It’s normally found in Italy,” he continued despite the distraction, “as well as other places in Europe where they can find large rocks with cracks to hide in so they are protected from predators. But Europe is over four thousand miles away, with an ocean between us. How do you think they got here?” “Did they thwim?” asked a small pony with enormous glasses. “I bet they have wings!” declared another. “Not even close.” Joe waved one hand in the general direction of downtown Topeka. “About fifty years ago, a man named Charles Burt had a pet store, and he imported all kinds of small creatures from all over the world that people like to keep as pets. Well, the store did not do well, and when it closed down, he did not send his pets to other pet stores, he just dumped them outside.” “That wathent very nithe,” said the glasses-wearing pony. “They could have gotten eaten!” “Or far worse, they could have thrived and overwhelmed their environment,” said Joe. “Our world has several species that were taken to new places where they did not have natural predators. Like rabbits in Australia, who have devastated large sections of the country because they don’t have any predators to keep them in check. Or pythons in Florida, or even some invasive fish species have caused millions of dollars worth of damage.” “Are we an invasive specie that causes destruction?” asked Applebloom. “Because Sweetie keeps setting things on fire.” “Hey!” objected the little unicorn. “It’s not my fault the vending machine caught on fire. Or the microwave oven at Mister Bruener’s house. Or that fire in Taco Bell. And Burger Princess said its food was char-broiled, so I don’t see why they got so upset.” “Or when we roasted marshmallows,” said a chubby little colt right next to Snails. “They’re not supposed to blow up.” “Or when you helped toatht thandwicheth at Thubway.” “How about when— Oof,” added Scootaloo when Applebloom stuck an elbow into her side. It should have been a premonition of danger, but Joe put it aside while guiding his little herd of students through the rest of the morning’s wildlife discovery and education, culminating in an old-fashioned cookout at the Topeka Zoo’s pavilion complete with roasted corn on the cob, carrot dogs, and various other vegetarian entrees. Thankfully, Miss Cheerilee provided just as quick with the fire extinguisher as she had been inside the Discovery Center, or the unicorn-assisted fire over the grill would have gotten out of control, and everybody would have gone on to the next educational event hungry. - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 10:38 A.M. Thursday June 25, 2015 Location: Strataca — Hutchinson, Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “I’ve never been in this kind of cave before. We’re further underground more than the tallest building in Manehattan,” whispered Goose almost reverently. “And everypony else has gone to the Cosmosphere already,” whispered Widget back in a rapid cascade of words. “Which is fine. I mean the salt mine tram is so cool, and I’ve never been on a train so far underground, but… there’s a spaceship there.” Claire put an arm around the shivering unicorn and pulled her closer. “Hey, if you stuck around, I could take you to the English Chunnel. It’s like twenty miles long under the ocean between England and France, and runs a hundred feet under the seafloor. Of course you can’t see anything like you can here,” she added, waving one hand at the greyish walls of salt on both sides of the tram. “Or I could take you to Florida and you could watch them launch a real spaceship.” That stopped the shivering almost immediately. “You would?” “Sure!” Claire took another photo of the two ponies, one of whom was enjoying her trip through the deep caves with almost indecent joy. Goose had admitted that most pegasi of any type did not like being underground, but as Claire had been reminded frequently, Goose was not normal. “We can even bring Goose’s coltfriend along,” she added with a grin. “Nope!” declared Lieutenant Nicholas Comena from the next seat back. “Pretty sure General Hackmore isn’t going to let me take off in the middle of an alien invasion. All them tentacled monsters⁽¹⁾ ain’t gonna fight themselves.” (1) Later, he would regret those words. — “I’ll bat my eyes at him and ask nicely,” said Goose with a giggle, adding yet another bat-pun to a long afternoon of linguistic humor. “That would be so cool!” declared Widget. “I’ll ask Mister President on Saturday if Karla can come along. If that’s okay with you,” she added in a rush. There was no response other than a quiet snore from the back seat where Agent Anacostia was taking advantage of the darkness to catch up on her sleep. - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 2:04 P.M. Thursday June 25, 2015 Location: Cosmosphere — Hutchinson, Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “There’s too much here to see in one day,” breathed Widget as she stared enraptured at the building index. “Can we live here?” “They won’t actually let you go inside of the capsules,” pointed out Claire, “just like they’re not about to let Goose into the SR-71 hanging from the ceiling over there.” “They just about didn’t let me into one either,” said a fairly nondescript older man standing near the Blackbird’s pointed nose. He certainly was not one of the Space Shuttle pilots that NASA had sent, because they were all unfailingly handsome middle-aged men trailed by a publicity photographer while meeting with the various ponies on tour. This man had been badly burned over most of his body some years ago, and nobody would make any claims to his attractiveness, but he carried himself with the same assertiveness as any fighter pilot, and given a flight suit, Claire would not have been shocked at all to see him slip into the pilot’s seat of the hypersonic craft. Goose appeared in front of the man so fast that Claire could have sworn she teleported. “You flew one of these airplanes?” she asked in a voice just one step short of worship. “I flew dozens of jet aircraft, including this one,” he said with a gentle pat to the leading edge chine. “SR-71 Niner Six One. One of the A models, so it wasn’t quite so smooth as the others once we got up to about eighty-five thousand feet. Um, ma’am?” “She gets this way sometimes,” said Widget, trotting over with a paper bag held in her magic field. “Breathe, Goose. Long, slow breaths.” “Claire Bruener,” said Claire while the girls were occupied. The man’s grasp was just as firm as she expected, and he went on to shake hooves while she continued. “This is Widget, our local hero who likes taking things apart, and Goose Down, cadet in the Royal Guard Academy.” “Brian Shul,” said the man. “Former Air Force pilot and author. One of my flying buddies asked me to come down today and talk with a young mare who had a frightening experience when flying once. I’m guessing that would be you, Goose?” Unable to speak with her face in the paper bag, Goose merely squeaked and nodded. “So would you like to hear an old pilot talk about flying jet aircraft?” asked Mister Shul. Both ponies nodded vigorously, and followed the old man like obedient puppies while he started to walk around the suspended aircraft. Claire took advantage of the momentary break to wander back to Karla, who was discussing something with one of the museum employees. Once they were finished, and the employee scurried off to deal with some other four-legged customers, Carla nodded toward the talking trio. “Interesting coincidence that we bump into a SR-71 pilot here, isn’t it?” “I was hoping he’d be able to make it,” said Karla. “The FBI had him as a motivational speaker a few years back, and I texted him once the scheduled visit here was fairly firm. I’ve got all his books,” she added. “And he’s a flight instructor, so I got to do a little flying with him out in California. He’s a heck of a guy.” After a few moments, Claire managed to get her mouth shut. “You’re awesome. You know that, right?” “Networking.” Agent Anacostia produced her cell phone and scrolled down the extensive contact list. “You never know who you’re going to meet, and how they’re going to relate to a case.” “Like a federal judge,” mused Claire. “I suppose that’s a lot better than my record. I’ve broken a few phones, so I really don’t have a good track on anybody other than a few girls from my Japanese trip and my grandparents in Portugal.” She pulled out her phone, regarded the messages she had not responded to yet, and stuck it back in her pocket. “Heck, I don’t really even respond to the emails I get from my travel blog. So many creeps on the internet nowadays.” “I don’t know how you can treat your relationship to some of the first visitors to our planet so casually.” Karla waved at the two ponies, one of whom was using Claire’s tablet to take notes. “Clyde said you have millions of hits on your videos, and—” “Wait.” Claire held up a hand. “Millions?” She scrambled to get her phone out again and poked with numb fingers to get her email application open, then waited impatiently while it loaded. “Claire, didn’t you hear when Mister Henderson said he’s going to get well over ten thousand dollars for his photos? And you’ve been making videos of Widget, the world’s most famous pony.” “They demonetized them,” said Claire numbly. “A few hundred dollars, and poof. Still, it’s a lot more money than I’ve made off the site in ever. There’s got to be a way to get them reactivated.” After a few minutes while the ponies were otherwise occupied, Claire finished pushing things on her phone and scowled fiercely at the uncooperative technology. “This sucks. Karla, do you have any— Oh, you’re on the phone.” “Yeah, Eddie,” said Karla with one hand out to keep Claire quiet. “You still have that YouTube channel? Uh-huh. Between jobs? Anything important?” She blushed furiously and snapped a sharp glance at Claire. “No, I’m not having sex with that reporter! I guess that means I don’t have to ask if you’ve been watching Claire’s videos. Uh-huh. Well, she’s been a little busy to post anything recently, and YouTube demonetized her income stream, so—” Karla held the phone away from her head, and Claire could hear the man on the other end having a geekgasm. “So once Eddie’s calmed down,” she said slowly, “why don’t I put you in contact with a lawyer I know. You shoot footage, Eddie produces and publishes, split the income over the next week or two, and you can buy a car that isn’t spread out over your father’s shed in little pieces.” Ponies were definitely rubbing off on them. Claire found herself giving the FBI agent a hug, and there were no objections from either of them. And the Cosmosphere stayed open late just so Widget could crawl around the Mercury capsule and make ‘vrumm-vrumm’ noises for the video. - - - - ⧖ - - - - Time: 8:34 P.M. Thursday June 25, 2015 Location: JanJan’s MMA Academy — Wichita, Kansas - - - - ⧖ - - - - “It’s probably too late,” fidgeted Widget as she looked over the back of the driver’s seat and breathed in Karla’s ear. “I mean it’s almost Sun’s set. And Goose is sleeping,” she added with a look over her shoulder at the back of the SUV where something dark and mysterious was… well, not snoring, per se. Breathing loud enough to be heard, which was somewhat unusual for the silent batpony. Nick was quite obviously sleeping, with his head thrown back on the rear seat and occasional real snores. “Marine instincts,” said Karla as she pulled into a parking spot. “I’ll bet if I bellowed ‘ten-hut’ loud enough—” “What?” spluttered Nick, struggling with his seat belt. “I was awake, just resting my eyes.” “Me too,” proclaimed Goose, emerging out of the back of the SUV like a wave of darkness. Both of their protestations of enhanced alertness lasted all the way to the front door of the gym, which had all the windows lit up inside and a reasonable crowd of hefty men waiting around for their arrival. “Welcome to my dojo!” announced a short but densely muscled Fillipino man, who advanced one step and gave a brief bow. “Most of my students call me JanJan, because they can’t pronounce my name in Tagalog. You must be the fabled Goose Down and Widget.” “Yes, sir.” Widget gave a short bow while her guard simply stood behind her and slightly to one side. “I’m really not that interested in fighting, but Goose would like to compare her abilities to humans, and maybe teach each other something about ourselves.” “A very diplomatic response.” JanJan gave a wicked grin. “I really wouldn’t want to fight you anyway, young lady. Magic seems to be cheating.” “I don’t have any spells for fighting,” admitted Widget. “Just mechanical manipulation, and a few that Doctor Stable taught me.” Her horn glowed briefly, and she continued in a flowing language that Claire could only pick out a few words, mostly Spanish. JanJan’s smiling face dropped into astonishment, then lit up with entrancement. They exchanged several more sentences before JanJan turned to Goose and continued, although the batpony obviously did not understand a word. “Oh!” said Widget with her horn glowing again and a sensation like ants crawled over Claire’s skull. “I only copied the imprint of Tagalog from you. I didn’t give it to Goose or my friends. Sorry about that.” “” “” admitted Widget, “” She proudly produced a bright purple roll. “” * * * It took longer than Claire expected for any actual sparring to take place, although she took video of the process for Eddie and their mutual pony picture site that was taking place somewhere in Kansas City. Since it would give her an unfair advantage, Goose reluctantly gave up her armor while getting her hooves wrapped, followed by a fairly extensive review of what places on people and ponies that were not to be hit, or at least struck gently. Then JanJan took Goose out in the center of the gym, and the fun began. There were no end of enthusiastic students to toss around, but the serious sparring took place with wooden swords and bo staffs, sometimes in such a blur of motion that Claire didn’t think the tablet camera had a prayer of catching the action. The thing that really unnerved the watchers was the way Goose could use her tail like some sort of monkey, and how it really did not matter how many attackers came at her at one time, because she seemed to perform better when attacked in groups. ‘Bat-Mane’ did not get out of the practice session unscathed, however. Several times, students or the teacher managed to toss or hit their speedy target, but after each impact, Goose bounced up like a rubber ball, requesting ever so politely for another attempt until she could counter or block it. A few of the more courageous students attempted judo throws or jujitsu pins, only to complain that it was like trying to pin down an octopus, since Goose had the advantage of extra limbs and a tail. Midnight came. It left, and so did several of the limping students who had to get up in the morning. At some point after 1 A.M. and a few minutes more, Claire had to raise an obvious point. “Sensi JanJan, you do realize Goose is nocturnal, and can probably keep this up until sunrise, right?” “But Claire!” Goose tucked a sweat-soaked strand of mane up behind her ear and pouted. The rest of her coat was just as slick, with a few hints of froth beginning to show in the expected places. “No buts,” she insisted. “We can come back earlier in the afternoon next week sometime. They’re going to want us all back in Randolph tomorrow to get ready for the president’s visit, and I for one don’t want to be standing next to a stinky pony.” “I’m not a stinky—” Goose sniffed and changed the subject. “Only if you promise. Hey, where’s Widget?” “Outside with some of the guys, who are showing off their cars. She’s probably got somebody’s supercharger torn apart by now. Come on, thank Sensi JanJan for tonight’s demonstration and let’s get back to the hotel.” The thanks, of course, came in Tagalog, which made Claire wonder about how long she was going to retain the language. Thankfully, the batpony switched to English once they got outside, pulled Widget out from under a jacked-up truck, and they all headed in the general direction of Karla’s giant pink SUV. “Was starting to think you two were going to be in the dojo forever,” said the FBI agent with a yawn. “You want to drive, Claire?” “Yeah, looks like I better.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Lieutenant Comena, who was exchanging a few last words with some ex-military students of JanJan’s while carrying one of the gym’s embossed bags full of Goose’s armor. “Nick would probably try to park us on top of another vehicle if he drives this tank.” It was only a matter of minutes before they were driving out into the dark streets with a wave or two for the few remaining students standing out in the parking lot and JanJan, who was still standing in the gym’s lit doorway. Widget gave a yawn of her own while waving, then bumped Nick in the ribs. “Hey, lovercolt. How come you weren’t out in the ring with the rest of JanJan’s students?” “Three reasons.” Nick held up three dark fingers. “First, it would have been impolite to take up some of the instructor’s time when they were all there for our guest. Second, I didn’t bring any protective gear or a workout outfit.” He folded down a finger every time he marked off a point, leaving only his middle finger sticking up. “And third, fuck you if you think I’m going to fight Goose without a tank wrapped around me. She did damned good out there tonight. How are you feeling, Goose?” There was a pause, a brief clearing of an equine throat, and Goose’s beautiful voice floated out of the back of the SUV. “Can I get a couple of your moe-trins, and when we get to the hotel, I might need somepony to carry me to the hot tub. Everything hurts. But it’s a good hurt,” she added. * * * JanJan remained standing in the doorway while the pink SUV drove away, only raising his voice once they were out of sight. “Sergeant Olson, a word, if you will?” Senior Master Sergeant Olson, the hefty Air Force Special Forces soldier who had been slipped into the city a few days ago, ambled out of the small crowd of martial arts students, who were happily chatting among themselves while nursing various sprains, strains, and contusions. As for himself, he had to keep one arm down due to a pulled muscle in his shoulder, and both wrists were chafed with the number of times a wing or tape-wrapped foreleg had flung him a fair distance for an awkward landing on the thick mat. The only time he had gotten close to throwing the Equestrian was for a fraction of a second where he had been directly pressing a hold, small female horse muscles against human male biceps, then a tail of all things had grabbed him around an ankle and flipped his world. Worse, the action had singled him out for extra Goose-time, and right now he was feeling much like a tenderized steak. “Did you need something, Sir?” Olson asked once he got close enough not to be overheard by the rest of the students. “I’m retired, so don’t call me sir,” said JanJan tersely. “Go into my office, get the bottle of Percocet off my desk, and bring it to me. Then, once I’m able to walk, we’re going to take a nice, slow trip down to the emergency room, and I’m going to get an x-ray.” “What, did you break something?” Olson gave his former commanding officer a once-over. “Everything,” said JanJan. Chapter notes (inline for e-readers) - JanJan is based off my former martial arts instructor, Stan Wilson, who went everywhere and did everything in the armed forces. He only came up to your chin, but that just let him hit the important places on you better. -Major Brian Shul is a real Air Force pilot, who lived through a horrible crash behind enemy lines and was back in the cockpit a few days after getting out of the hospital. He is now a photographer, public speaker, and excellent published author of several books. -Joe Collins is a herpetologist at KU, and fascinating to talk with. And don’t worry. None of the little lizards are going home with the ponies other than Spike. - The Hutchinson Cosmosphere is an unexpected air and space museum about as far from Houston and Cape Canaveral as can be, and yet has one of the largest collections of space-based material anywhere, and their restoration specialists have a world-wide reputation. It’s well-worth the trip. - Strateca is what they call the Hutchinson Salt Mines now (I guess it’s more touristy) - Two elevators to to get down to the working depth, which is a layer of rock salt that extends for miles, and a tourist train. Yes, I plan on going sometime. - Specialist Dahlia Thermal is from The Night Guard - Night Mares. She was a skyglider in Canterlot (mare of the evening, that kind of thing) when she was young, but eventually joined the police as a decoy at first, since she seems to be drawn to criminal activity as much as it is drawn to her. (Thus her visit to The Lion’s Den, one of our more famous porn stores on I-70, and an accidental stop at a truck smuggling drugs) She’s one of the first four female ponies to join Luna’s Night Guard, along with Miss Grace and Rose Thorn mentioned previously.