//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Manehattan // Story: Applejack's Trial // by Dreadnought //------------------------------// The train ride was pleasant. The first-class coach was in a new car of a fashionable model. The inside was lined with finely crafted wood paneling of dark mahogany. Large, picturesque windows afforded stunning panoramic views of the passing countryside. The purple curtains framing the windows were made of a rich fabric accented with golden tassels. Spacious benches incorporated plush cushions that pleased even the most discerning of rumps. The ventilation system provided fresh, cool air that kept the entire compartment at a comfortable temperature. The tracks to Manehattan ran straight over relatively flat land, creating a gentle ride and the occasional bump was smoothed by the car’s state-of-the-art suspension system. Yes, it truly was a pleasant ride. Unless, of course, you were hoofcuffed for an entire day to a blue pegasus who had even less personality than Maud Pie. At first, Applejack loudly protested only for her declarations of innocence to fall on deaf ears. The agents advised her of her right to remain silent, which similarly fell on deaf ears. When she continued objecting to her arrest, they very strongly encouraged her to exercise her right to remain silent. Finally, after an hour, Applejack had given up pleading her case, with her voice growing raspy and hoarse. And Golden Harvest fared no better. Every question posed to the government agents was met with a refusal to answer. Any attempts to engage in small talk went nowhere. And amazingly the three stallions didn’t even talk amongst themselves. Thus an eerie, tense silence followed between Applejack and her jailors with Golden Harvest nervously in the middle. It was like a heavily armed armistice, with each side readying for a renewed outbreak of hostilities. Now, the only sounds came from the clickety-clack of the wheels on the track or the wind outside the carriage. Golden Harvest glanced to her left, eyeing the commanding black earth pony who sat next to her. He towered over her, being larger than even Big Mac. Over his business suit he wore a heavy trench coat that only added to his authoritarian aura. The whole time he merely stared forward, cold and emotionless. She returned her gaze forward. On the opposite bench sat Applejack, unhappily sandwiched between two stoic pegasus guards. The agents grimly scowled and hardly moved a muscle. They sat ramrod straight, poised and ready to resist an unlikely assault to free their detainee or the more likely scenario of having to bodily restrain an unruly and violent prisoner. Their imposing demeanor deterred anypony on the carriage from approaching. Even the train’s conductor had been visibly apprehensive about checking their tickets. But on careful observation, they were not oblivious to their surroundings; their ears twitched and their eyes darted about ensuring complete situational awareness. Outside the morning sun had crossed the sky before slipping behind the westerly horizon. In the east the thinnest of crescent moons rose. It should have been a great night for stargazing. But it was far from dark. An artificial glow rested on the horizon. A glow that only grew with time until it saturated the night sky. A glow that slowly resolved itself into a million points of lights emanating from high-rise buildings, streetlamps, billboards, navigation aids, docked ships and the glistening bay. Golden Harvest couldn’t help but gasp at her first sight of the shimmering beauty that was nighttime Manehattan. The train passed over a suspension bridge connecting the island metropolis to the mainland and suddenly the passengers found themselves in a deep canyon, with tall buildings lining the tracks on either side. Quickly the train decelerated and descended, until finally pulling up to a platform underneath the city’s main train station. “Welcome to Manehattan! Last Stop! Everypony off!” announced the conductor as he opened the doors. Passengers quickly grabbed their bags and disembarked the carriage. Applejack started to stand when the blue pegasus yanked her by the hoofcuff back into the seat. “Not yet!” he barked as Applejack shot him the stink eye. Finally, after all the other passengers had departed the train and the platform appeared deserted, did the agents get up. The five ponies departed the coach and climbed the stairs to the grand lobby of the station. By this hour there were only a few individuals milling about, apparently waiting for the overnight to Canterlot. The five exited the front doors and found themselves on one of the main avenues of the upper west side. Without pause the black stallion led the group down the street. “Where are we going?” wondered Golden Harvest, not really expecting an answer. “The local police station,” he said. “They’ll be booking and processing her. We’re only involved because she skipped town and was outside their jurisdiction. R.B.I. is tasked with not only national crimes but also hunting down fugitives.” “Ah keep tellin’ y’all,” began Applejack in an extremely husky voice, “Ah didn’t do nuthin’!” The stallions continued to ignore her oft repeated claims while Golden advised “Save your breath, Applejack.” The walk to the police station was pleasant. Manhattan sparkled like a diamond at night in all its glory. Tall skyscrapers were lit up and created a dazzling skyline that was far different from the quaint rural hamlet of Ponyville. The usually crowded streets and sidewalks were deserted at this late hour. The air was cool but not cold, and the faint scent of the ocean wafted through the air. Yes, it truly was a pleasant walk. Unless, of course, you were hoofcuffed to a blue pegasus and closely guarded by two other brutes. Fortunately, the walk was a brief one of only two blocks. Shortly the five found themselves in the lobby of the police station. The black stallion led the group to the counter where an overweight police sergeant with a slightly graying mustache was seated. He put his coffee cup down next to his half-eaten jelly donut. Looking over the rather odd group of ponies before him, he asked, “How may I help you folks this evening?” The black stallion flashed a badge. “We’re with the RBI, here to deliver a fugitive. She needs to be booked and held overnight for her trial tomorrow.” The sergeant sighed. He pulled forth a large ledger and began taking down all the relevant information the agents relayed to him. He glanced over to the other mare. “You bringing her in too?” “No. She’s a friend of the fugitive and insisted on coming.” The sergeant turned around and yelled, “McColt! Callaharness! Out front!” Two police stallions arrived out front. “I need you to take Miss Apple back for processing. When you’re done, put her in a cell to await her trial tomorrow.” The blue pegasus unlocked the hoofcuff. The officers led Applejack into the back. “Where do you think you’re going?” asked one of them. “I’m going with her,” responded Golden Harvest. “We don’t allow the public back here.” Golden Harvest gritted her teeth. “I just spent all day riding a train, with my friend under arrest for crimes nopony will tell her about, coming to a city I’ve never been to. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and am dead tired. I’m going to stay with my friend until you lock her up,” she said with no room for argument. “Miss –” “Just go with it,” advised the black RBI stallion. “She’s a stubborn one.” “Fine,” groused the police officer. He stood aside and allowed Golden to accompany Applejack to the back. The four walked down a large room filled with desks. Only a few still had staff working at them but all were piled high with bulging files. Finally, they entered a private office in the back. The two motioned for the mares to sit as they pulled out forms to feed into the typewriter. The taller pony, a white earth pony with a brown mane, sat behind the typewriter. “Name.” Applejack sighed, “Ah already told that fella out front.” “We need to fill out this paperwork to properly process you,” said the other. He was a muscular pegasus with a balding head. “Fine,” grumbled Applejack, as the two officers typed up their report. When they had finished, she asked, “Are you gonna tell me what Ah’m charged with?” “You’d better talk to your lawyer about that, Miss Apple,” said the earth pony. “Mah lawyer?” she asked. “Yeah,” said the pegasus. “The one who’ll be defending you tomorrow.” She sighed, “Ah don’t have a lawyer.” “Doesn’t somepony in your family practice law?” asked Golden Harvest. “Yeah. Cousin Marshall’s a judge in Appleloosa. But he’s busy an’ Appleloosa’s a ways away.” The two officers shared a frustrated look between themselves. The pegasus returned to the file cabinet. Upon seeing the large stack of forms he grabbed, Applejack let out another annoyed groan. “We’ll get you set up with a government-appointed lawyer,” said the earth pony. “It’s late and a Sunday, so we’ll contact them tomorrow.” He began typing and asked Applejack for any missing information. She responded normally at first, but became listless as time wore on, seemingly going through the motions. Finally, after a solid hour, they had finished all the paperwork. “Are you going to lock her up now?” asked Golden Harvest. “No. First we’ve got to get her pictures and hoofprints for the records.” They led the two mares to another room, with a plain white wall and camera set up to one side. Applejack stood in front of the wall while the earth pony adjusted the camera. “Miss, you’re going to need to remove your hat.” Golden Harvest let out a half-hearted laugh. “What’s so funny?” demanded the pegasus. She sighed, “Sorry. But you’d be better off letting her keep her hat. I’ve lived in Ponyville all my life. I can’t think of anytime in the last five years when I haven’t seen Applejack without her hat.” He considered her words before saying, “Nevertheless regulations require she remove her hat.” Applejack sighed and took off her trusted stetson, revealing her beautiful golden mane. Still, given her exhausting trip and frustrating arrest, she looked far from her best in her mug shots. The stallions led her over to a small table, where they proceeded to take her hoofprints for the official registry. “Now what?” asked Golden Harvest. “Now, we put her in a cell for the night,” said the earth pony. The pegasus guided the group down a set of stairs to the basement. Truth be told, it felt more like a dungeon than a city jail. It was a long, dimly lit hallway with ten cells on either side. The walls were built of thick, rough-hewn granite blocks. Somewhere a slow drip, drip, drip came from a leaking pipe. The cold, musty air was dank and smelled foul, almost as if a toilet had recently overflowed. Given that the floor was slightly wet, Golden Harvest sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. As the mares walked down the cell block, the locked-up stallions took notice. They began ogling the two and giving wolf whistles. “Hey there baby.” “Come over here and give me a kiss.” “I’d like to be hoofcuffed with you.” “You wanna warm up my cell filly?” “You are a mare, right?” Finally, they reached the last cell on the right, a small empty chamber. Applejack stepped inside, and instantly the heavy iron bars slammed shut behind her. She turned around and looked up. Golden Harvest almost gasped at the sight. Her friend appeared apathetic – numb to the whole situation. Maybe it was fatigue, or maybe something more, but the fire that once burned fiercely in her green eyes was gone. Golden Harvest forced a smile through her own exhaustion. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back first thing.” Applejack merely nodded before climbing onto the worn cot and placing her hat over her face. The two officers led Golden Harvest back through the torrent of wolf whistles and cat calls and up to the main lobby of the police station. “Thanks for letting me be there with her, Officer....” The earth pony said, “I’m Officer Hairy Callaharness, and he is John McColt.” “Thank you, Officers Callaharness and McColt,” she said sincerely. “You must be some friend,” said McColt. Golden Harvest nodded, “Our families are neighbors and Applejack’s been a friend since my fillyhood.” “She’s going to need a friend tomorrow when she goes to trial,” said Callaharness. “What time should I be here?” she asked. “No earlier than 7:30, no later than 8.” “Okay.” She started to leave, then paused. “Do any of you know a place where I can stay? I wasn’t exactly planning on coming to Manehattan or spending the night.” “There’s a cheap hotel three blocks down the street. Called ‘The City Stable.’” “Thanks.” She turned and stepped outside onto the street. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, fighting back exhaustion and frustration. This was her first visit to Manehattan. And unfortunately this trip had been nothing like she’d been dreaming about. She opened her eyes and with a weary sigh trotted down the street, passing out of the light of a streetlamp and into the darkness....