The security guard looked up. “Hey, Radiance!” she cried joyfully. “Long time, no see!”
“Molly!” Radiance cried in return. “How’s the family?”
Mall Cop smiled. “The twins are fine. Starting school soon.” She reached for a picture frame on the desk. “Wanna see a picture?”
“Of course,” she said. “But I’m a little tight on time today.”
“No worries,” Molly replied. “Let me just—”
She leaned forward and flipped the cap off of one of the several speaking tubes built into her desk.
“I have Radiance here in the lobby, waiting to see Night Light.” She listened attentively as the pony on the other end squawked back at her. “Yes, his daughter,” she added, rolling her eyes at Radiance. Some more squawking from the tube, and she nodded and snapped it closed.
“He’s on his way,” she said.
Radiance nodded her thanks, then turned to look out the window at the lunchtime traffic. Father’s office building stood on a busy street, so there was quite the fare for a dedicated ponywatcher through the big picture windows that looked out over Canterlot. Ordinarily, she would have been happy to spend a quiet afternoon here, just enjoying the scenery. However, she’d spent a rather large portion of her teenaged years waiting in this very lobby, and had already seen nearly all the view had to offer.
Besides: she had more important things to worry about at the moment.
A few minutes later, the lobby’s elevator dinged open. Radiance turned and broke into a smile.
“Daddy!” she cried fondly, trotting towards him.
“Officer Radey!” he cried in return, pulling her in for a hug.
Father had been working at this office since Radiance was a little filly--though he hadn’t always had the liberty of stepping away from his desk for impromptu little visits like this. He had actually got his start as a night watchpony at the Canterlot Museum of Art, when Mother was pregnant with Shiny and they found themselves in need of a few extra bits. He discovered, to his surprise, that the work agreed with him--especially since it allowed him to spend his afternoons with his family before he had to go to work. From there, he worked his way up the chain, getting promoted and headhunted and promoted again, until he found himself the manager of a prestigious security company. The sort that charged four- and five-figure sums when somepony important needed to be cared for. But, even when duty called him elsewhere, he always did his best to make time for his children--and, in Radiance’s case, that meant taking frequent advantage of Bring Your Daughter To Work days, training seminars on conflict resolution and self-defense, networking opportunities disguised as office parties--and, for one particularly memorable six months, meeting her for lunch every day in between Police Academy classes.
Father pulled out of Radiance’s grasp, then looked down at her with a smile. “So,” he said, “what brings you all the way out here, Officer Radey?”
She smiled. He hadn’t stopped calling her Officer since she’d entered the Police Academy. Some days, she thought that he was more proud of her being a police officer than she was.
“Oh, you know,” she said evasively as she lit her horn, “I just thought I’d drop by…”
She opened up the flap of her saddlebags with her magic and lifted out a large thermos with the logo of the Café Cheval printed on the side. Father’s eyes lit up with an eager, greedy hunger at the sight of the thermos. If Radiance had learned anything about her father over the years, it was that he could never resist a cup of good coffee, a habit he had probably picked up during his time as a night watchpony. Probably a bad habit, truth be told, but it had its advantages.
Father lit his horn and plucked the thermos from her grasp.
“You know me so well,” he said wryly. “C’mon up,” he added, nodding towards the elevator.
* * *
Father picked up his mug of coffee and took a slow, deep breath of its aroma. Radiance, munching on a sandwich across the desk from him, tried not to gag. Father preferred dark roast, taken black. She couldn’t understand why--the stench of the stuff reminded her of nothing so much as some of her sister Serenade’s more unfortunate culinary experiments.
The two of them were sitting in Father’s office. When they had sat down, Radiance had opened her saddlebags again to reveal two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and a couple of Doughnut Joe’s finest chocolate sprinkles. Throwbacks to some of their favorite lunches together.
She chewed her sandwich while watching father savor his coffee. It was quite fascinating to watch, actually: when he needed a quick pick-me-up, he was more than happy to choke down any convenience-store fare he could find, but with a good cup? A really good cup? He took his time. It was almost like watching a wine connoisseur sampling a particularly rare vintage.
She watched him in silence until, after several minutes of smelling, sipping, and savoring the drink, Father sighed, set it down on his desk, then reached for one of the doughnuts.
“So,” he said, “how are you doing, Radey? We miss having you home…”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I don’t think it’s dignified for a mare my age to live with her parents, if she can afford to care for herself.”
Father nodded. “I know,” he replied. “And yet, little Serenade still misses you.”
“As do you and Mother, I’m sure,” she added with a smile.
Father nodded his head fondly, and smiled.
“It’s nice to have someone else around to help with the dishes, at least,” he said.
Radiance pressed a hoof to her chest with a gasp of mock horror. Father chuckled, then took a bite of his doughnut.
“I know it’s what you have to do,” he said, spraying crumbs on the desk. “You and Twiley both. But still: that old house feels empty without you.”
“I know,” she sighed. She looked down at her sandwich. “I could come by for Sunday dinner, if it’d help?”
Father’s eyes lit up, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth--but he quickly stifled them.
“I mean… if you have time,” he said, trying (and failing) to keep his voice neutral.
Radiance smiled to herself, then mentally cleared her calendar.
Father leaned back a little in his chair. “Maybe,” he said, “after dinner, we could go down into the basement and talk about whatever’s bothering you then.” He looked up at her slyly. “It’s not boy trouble, is it?”
Radiance frowned. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked.
Father gestured at the spread before them. “Café Cheval coffee, Grilled Cheese’s best sandwich, and my favorite from Doughnut Joe’s? Radiance,” he said, “you haven’t tried this hard to butter me up since you were trying to convince me to buy you a Shadow Spade costume for your eighth birthday.”
Her shoulders slumped. “It’s that obvious?” she said glumly.
Father’s teasing smile turned to a frown. He put his doughnut down, then leaned forward. “What’s going on?” he said. “It, uh…” he looked down uncertainly. “It isn’t boy trouble, is it?”
She shook her head. “I wish,” she replied. “It would make things easier…”
Radiance took a deep breath, then let it out. “Dad,” she began, “you always said, when I was growing up, that I could always come to you--anytime, any place--for advice.” She looked up at him. “Is that still true?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Of course it is, Honey,” he said. “You can always talk to me. About whatever.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “This one’s a bit of a doozy…”
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. He paused for just a moment, then frowned a little. “Of course, some issues might be better suited for your mom…”
She shot him an ugly look, and he gulped involuntarily.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try and be serious.”
She sighed, then looked at the ground. “Thank you,” she said.
They sat there quietly for a while, while Radiance tried to force her thoughts into some sort of order. Should I be honest? Tweak the details? Lie, so he doesn’t worry?
Finally, she licked her lips.
“I have… a friend,” she said carefully, eyes still downward. “She has a job that she loves. And she thinks it’s what her Cutie Mark is telling her to do.”
Night Light nodded slowly.
“And… what sort of job might that be?”
Radiance froze.
“Uh… baking,” she said, her voice trembling only a little. “She bakes cakes.”
“Uh-huh,” Night Light said, unconvinced. “Is this one of those ponies from Ponyville that you and Twilight know?”
Radiance shook her head. “She’s here. In Canterlot. Down off of Cliffrace Run.”
Father nodded, then gestured for her to continue.
“Well…” Radiance said uncertainly, “This friend, she… she has a problem at work. There’s… another employee. And he drops the cupcakes, sometimes. But he still frosts them up and sends them out, hoping the customer will never notice.”
Father made a little hmm noise, but said nothing else. Radiance took another breath, and used the opportunity to think. Her story was coming easier now…
“My friend,” she continued, “she was thinking about telling someone about the problem employee. But then, while she was still trying to figure out what to do, the head baker came to talk to her. He said that everyone dropped a cupcake now and then, and that she was taking things too seriously.”
“Tell me,” her father interrupted, “these cupcakes--are they as big a problem as your friend thinks they are? Or is she perhaps just blowing things out of proportion?”
Radiance looked away. “Dropping a cupcake at all is a violation of health codes,” she said, her voice low. “Even if it weren’t, a cupcake is still getting damaged. Badly.”
Father nodded, then gestured at her to continue.
She took another deep breath, then let it out “Here’s the thing,” she said slowly. “The baker told her that he didn’t want someone in his store who wouldn’t stand up for the other employees. He didn’t say it outright, but she thinks if she tells someone about how all these cupcakes are getting destroyed, he’s going to fire her. A-and she—” she suddenly felt herself choke up “--she’s always wanted to be a baker.”
“But there are other bakeries, aren’t there?”
Radiance grimaced. “Yes,” she admitted, “but this particular bakery--it’s… well, it’s a famous one. If she loses her job there, she probably won’t ever bake again.”
Father raised an eyebrow. “She could just leave the bad bakery off her resumé…”
Radiance rolled her eyes. “Bakers talk, Dad,” she said. “And, if they hear that she got fired, and what she got fired for—”
“Which would be?”
“Stealing from the register or something,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively. “Talking to the health department isn’t a crime. But the baker will find something else to get her in trouble for, I’m sure of it. Anyways,” she insisted, “my baker friend is worried that, if she gets a reputation as a bad baker, she’ll lose more than her job. She’s always wanted to bake--it’s the only thing she’s ever dreamed of. She’s built her whole identity around baking. Even her cutie mark is one about baking. It’s her destiny, Dad--and she’s in danger of losing it.” She cupped her head in her hooves. “She has to choose between looking the other way when somepony is getting hurt,” she said in a small voice, “or giving up everything she’s ever dreamed.” She was quiet for a second, before her eyes widened. “Cupcakes!” she blurted, looking up. “Getting hurt. Or something.”
Night Light watched her silently. After a few moments, she began to sag.
“It’s... it’s not actually cupcakes,” she admitted.
Night Light nodded. “I figured,” he said simply.
Radiance winced. However, Father didn’t appear to notice. Instead, he looked down at his mug of coffee, picked it up, and took a quiet sip. He set the mug down, pressed his hooves together, and looked down at his lap. Radiance bit her lip and looked around the office, briefly wondering why the clock was suddenly taking so long between ticks...
Finally, Father stood, then slowly walked around the desk. Radiance watched him curiously, until he walked up to her and drew her into a tight hug. Radiance sucked in a breath, then quietly began to cry.
“If I know your friend as well as I think I do,” he said into her ear, “I would begin by telling her that she is a wonderful young mare. She’s smart, she’s kind, and she could have any stallion she wanted--when she gets around to it.”
Radiance squeezed her eyes shut.
“I would also tell her,” he continued, “that this really is a difficult decision. It’s a big ask, to choose between your dreams and your conscience--and, for that reason, she shouldn’t feel bad about all the self doubt she’s been going through.”
She felt fresh tears on her cheek--tears that were not her own.
“But I also know,” he said quietly, “that she already knows what she should do. The consequences of her choice might be dire, but the question itself is a rather simple one: should she remain true to herself, or should she make someone else suffer for it?”
Her eyes snapped open.
“But I want her to know,” Father continued, “that, no matter what she chooses, your mother and I will still be proud of her. She’s already done so much, both as a pony and as a policemare, that, no matter what happens, she should be proud of herself too.”
Radiance hugged Father even tighter.
“And let her know,” he said, “that, if things don’t work out in her favor, I would be honored to have her join our staff.” He paused, then chuckled. “I’ve always wanted an on-call baker of my very own.”
And, despite herself, Radiance laughed. Her laugh made Father laugh, which just made her laugh even harder. And the two of them kept laughing, off and on, until, eventually, things didn’t hurt so bad anymore.
* * *
Radiance jammed the enter key one last time. The typewriter dinged with a note of finality. Radiance let out a heavy sigh, then pulled the sheet from the typewriter and laid it on top of the tall stack of forms laid on her desk.
She gathered the forms together and tapped them on the desk to make sure they were lined up properly. She laid them back down on the desk, then pulled a folded sheet of lined paper from one of her uniform pockets. She unfolded the paper, then smoothed it out on the desk with her hooves. She read Twilight’s hoofwriting carefully. Radiance was familiar with the basics of the spell, but she’d never actually tried it--especially with a document of this length and detail. Twilight, who always had been better at this sort of thing, had written out a set of detailed notes to help her with it. Radiance was something of a perfectionist even under the best of circumstances--but this spell, this time, had to go off without a hitch.
Radiance reread a few lines of her notes, muttering under her breath as she did so. As she muttered, she pulled open a drawer in her desk and withdrew a stack of blank paper. She set it on the desk beside the forms. Finally, she sighed, closed her eyes, and lit her horn.
The ink on the page glowed blue and began to tremble and shimmer. One by one, with the faintest sound of tearing paper, the letters peeled off the forms, then floated over to the blank papers, and arranged themselves in neat lines on the page.
When the last of the tearing sounds had faded, Radiance opened her eyes, and allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. The stack of forms on the left still had all its text in place, but an exact copy of the original forms now lay on top of the stack of blank sheets. She flipped through the copy, then let out a sigh of relief: everything seemed to have copied correctly. It appeared that Madame Mimeograph really did know what she was doing, after all.
Radiance set the copied forms to one side, then performed the spell twice more. When she was done, she wiped the sweat from her brow, then reached into another desk drawer and withdrew a small stack of manila envelopes. One by one, she slipped the copies into the envelopes, then arranged them in a careful stack: one copy for Internal Affairs, which, in theory, would investigate her report of excessive force without revealing her name--though it wouldn’t take much detective work to figure out which rookie had brought it to their attention. One copy she would give to her father for safekeeping at his office, and one she would sequester in a safe deposit box at Canterlot First Bank--perhaps a little overkill, of course, but Shadow Spade had taught her it was better to be too careful than not careful enough in cases like these.
Finally, Radiance turned to her original copy. She slipped it into an envelope of its own, then hesitated. Finally, she picked up one of the pencils from her desk, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the stack, then laid it in front of her. She stared at the blank sheet, and started tapping her pencil absently on the desk. Finally, she took a deep breath, lifted her pencil, and began to write.
Dear Twiley, she wrote, I have a favor to ask…