Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies
Guest Stars
"Politics is the ability to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month and next year. And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn’t happen."
— Winston Churchill
"I was brought up on the books of The Wizard of Oz and my mother told me that these were great philosophies. It was a very simple philosophy, that everybody had a heart, that everybody had a brain, that everybody had courage. These were the gifts that are given to you when you come on this earth, and if you use them properly, you reach the pot at the end of the rainbow. And that pot of gold was a home. And home isn't just a house or an abode, its people, people who love you and that you love. That's a home."
— Ray Bolger
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Time: 6:15 P.M. Monday June 29, 2015
Location: Port Canaveral, Royal Caribbean Cruise Terminal, Florida
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“Are you sure that thing floats?” Both Widget and Goose were glued to the side windows as Dakota Henderson eased the RV around a u-turn. To get a slower drive-by of the ship, he had ‘accidentally’ missed the parking lot turnoff the first time through, because once the Royal Caribbean people took over their visit, things would go fast. It seemed a fair precaution since the two ponies were a mixture of excited and apprehensive about their visit to the Caribbean Princess, much like his own first worries about boarding a US aircraft carrier as a Marine.
“I’ve been on bigger,” he responded casually. “On a carrier, you can go for days without seeing the outside. Of course, mostly all you’d see is grey water, so you don’t miss much. Most of the fun on a cruise ship is going to new places, so the ship is there to entertain while you’re traveling.”
“I wish we had more time.” Widget kept gazing up at the huge cruise ship every moment while Dakota took the RV the rest of the way around the traffic circle and headed back to the parking lot and the frustrated staff member who had waved at them on the way by a few moments ago. “We looked up all the things to do in Disney and two days just isn’t enough. Two weeks, maybe. And the rest of the city… We could spend our entire lives exploring the nifty places in your world and never even make a good dent.”
“The same thing goes for your world,” said Claire. “Magic fountains and cities in the clouds. I’d give anything to see that.”
“I don’t think the princesses are going to let anypony visit, at least not soon.” Widget took a nervous lick across her lips and kept looking out the window at the occasional stunned human giving a wave at the unexpected pony. “You heard the letter that Spike read once the mail started flowing. Everypony goes home first. Then they might start the occasional contact to see if interactions between our world are safe before they even think about actually sending diplomats back and forth. It could be years before you could return. Decades, even.”
“I know, I know.” Claire took a break from stuffing dirty clothes into a duffel bag for laundering later. There needed to be a certain amount of sorting afterwards also, because four females and one male generated some… interesting bits of smelly cloth.
Dakota called over his shoulder, “And I promised to get the RV back to the Thompsons in KC right after you girls go home, so no fair trying to get us back too late for the portal opening. I can’t just drive you all over the country, after all. I’ve got work to do when this is all over. I’m going to be indexing photos for years. Might even write a book.”
He didn’t think much of it while following the directions of the parking attendants to get the RV slotted into their reserved parking spot, but he was abruptly reminded of his statement when Claire smugly showed him the bottom line on the ‘Widget and Goose podcast’ that Eddie had been carefully editing and monetizing on YouTube.
“Dang,” he managed with a low whistle. “A long way away from buying your own country, but Uncle Sugar’s going to be happy as a clam when you file your income tax.”
“Income tax?” Widget flicked an ear in their direction, showing the exceptional ability of an Equestrian to listen in when least expected. “What’s that?”
* * *
There were certain advantages to living on a cruise ship, particularly on a relatively rare day of downtime. Normally, the Caribbean Princess would dock in the morning, unload all the passengers until around noon, load up another batch, and be gone with the evening tide. It made for an unending avalanche of feet and carts, screaming children wanting to go play in the sports court, or wet passengers in swimming suits leaving damp footprints everywhere. The churning happy chaos disrupted Anders’ normal routine of working from his balcony, but it had added entertainment value. There was something new on every trip. And today…
He closed his laptop and tossed it onto the bed, taking the time to snag his cell phone because of the obvious opportunity he had just spotted outside. It would have been perhaps more appropriate to put on a suit and tie to meet aliens from another world, but shorts and a polo shirt had been his dress for the last month and probably were going to be the casual dress of the day too, if he didn’t want to drop over from the July heat. Besides, he had watched several of the ‘Widget and Goose’ webcasts in the theatre downstairs over the last few days. The footage had no men in suits, but lots of kids of all varieties. The kids in the audience went nuts when the ponies had appeared on screen, and the crew had to show the episodes twice to calm them down.
Having the two tourist ponies show up today was extremely fortunate for the Equestrians’s sanity. If they had tried to take a tour in the middle of loading three thousand passengers and children…
The crew and contractors were scurrying around like diligent ants, maintaining and improving their floating anthill in the mere day they had before the next wave of passengers arrived. A monster like this ship required more than just the maintenance they could do while occupied, so the occasional day of concentrated activity had to be scheduled where it would fit. There was a crew laying carpet on his corridor, painting in the stairwell, and none of the elevators were in full working order. He slipped down the end staircase and headed over to the promenade where he guessed their brief visit would begin, only to be bowled over by both of the ponies before he rounded a corner.
“Sorry!” blurted out the pink one with a plastic brace on a forehoof. She appeared to be looking in all directions at once, mostly up, while the dark vampire-like pony behind her was mostly looking down and horizontally beneath her wide-brimmed Stetson. To be honest, the hat threw him more than being run into by a pink unicorn. One naturally expected a cowboy to be under a cowboy hat, not a yellow-eyed and bat-winged armored horse.
“Wait a sec,” he managed, holding up one open hand as he got to his feet. “I’m Anders Hansen, one of the longer-term passengers. Which one of you is Widget and which one is Goose again?”
“I’m Widget,” said the unicorn, sticking out a hoof to shake. “Glad to meet you, Mister Andershansen.”
“And I’m Goose Down,” said the dark bat-winged pony with a faint frown. She gave a glance down the hall where several people were trimming carpet, or at least had been doing so until the ponies abruptly showed up and captured their attention. “I thought all the passengers left the ship for a day so the maintenance ponies… I mean people could work on it.”
“I’m a long-term passenger.” Anders palmed his cell phone hesitantly because he had to get a selfie or he would never forgive himself, but didn’t want to embarrass the ponies. He might not have even worried because Goose Down and Widget immediately moved up beside him like selfie experts, mugging it up for the camera with matching grins as his phone floated a few feet away, clicked once, and floated back into his hand.
“Whew,” said Widget. “Glad there aren’t a dozen guests here. More than that and the crowds get really aggressive. I keep getting my sore hoof stepped on.”
“Disney’s going to be even worse,” said Anders before thinking. “It’s the middle of tourist season. They’ll be packed in before you show up, but Magic Kingdom should be able to scoot you through the corridors under the park if you get swamped. I took the tour once,” he admitted. “Aren’t you going there tomorrow?”
Goose Down and Widget exchanged guilty looks. “We were supposed to,” admitted the unicorn.
“There’s an event over at the big resort tonight,” said Goose mostly into the floor. “A big one. They’re going to be horribly upset when we don’t show up. I think. I mean I messaged the mayor on the telephone and she said something like she expected it but—”
“There you are!” It was easy to recognize Claire Bruener from their videos, although the young lady was already glossy from sweat in the Florida evening sun. ‘Farm-fed’ seemed to fit her well, although most stereotypical hillbilly women were more stacked up top, and blonde instead of raven-haired.
“Good evening, Miss Bruener,” said Anders quickly. “I was just talking to your pony—”
They had been there a moment ago. Now, all he could hear was the distant clatter of hooves somewhere deeper in the cruise ship.
“You get used to it,” said Claire, sticking out a hand to shake. “Claire Bruener. The others are still talking with the captain by the gangplank. Goose almost knocked him overboard. Dakota, that is. He stopped to salute the flag and…”
“They’re quicker than they look,” admitted Anders. “Anders Hansen, long-term guest here on the Caribbean Princess. Stock analyst.”
“Claire Bruner,” said the young lady. “Pony chaser and press agent, I think. Kota’s the photographer and Agent Anacostia the human security. You live on the cruise ship? That’s a thing?”
“Mostly,” admitted Anders. “I’ve got a condo ashore. It’s cheaper than living in New York.”
“If you want an earful, talk to Kota about how much it costs in San Francisco and how likely you are to be mugged,” admitted Claire. “I’m spoiled for my Manhattan, I guess. Not nearly as much to see and do, but the crime rate is so low I don’t concealed carry anymore. Well, not often.”
“Never have understood the Americans,” said Anders with a shake of his head. “At home, it takes a license to even look at a firearm. This state has them in shopping malls. There’s even a little store about an hour from here where you can rent machine guns and shoot up targets.”
“And how was it?” asked the young woman with a suspiciously innocent expression.
“Fun,” he admitted. “But expensive. And noisy.”
The two of them moved to one side so two men carrying carpet could pass by, then saw the ship’s captain walking briskly past them on the deck with Kota and Agent Anacostia by his side. “I guess you’ll be going now, Miss Bruener?”
“Actually…” Claire took a deep breath. “The girls should be fine. Everything has been going so fast recently. I need a break. Would you like to just sit somewhere and talk about your job? I tried to get into business with my degree in marketing, but the real world and college don’t seem to have an intersection of their sets. I just don’t seem to belong anywhere so it put me off working from the bottom up.”
“And I’m looking at businesses from the topside down,” said Anders. “Although at times I find it just as baffling. I understand you’ve got a limited business setup for funding their trip around the country. Are you wanting some pointers?”
“Oh, heavens yes,” said Claire. She let out a breath. “I’ve gone from clipping coupons and collecting tips at Pizza Hut to needing a tax expert in Kansas City and dealing with quarterly estimates that have to be paid before we know how much money is coming in. It’s overwhelming. I envy the ponies their lives so much.”
“I can understand,” said Anders with a glance at where he had last seen the ponies gallop away. “For a dime, I’d go back with them.”
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 8:52 P.M. Monday June 29, 2015
Location: Caribbean Princess, Royal Caribbean Cruise Terminal, Florida
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“This place is a huge city.” Widget stumbled into the staff pool area and began to ease herself into the hot tub. One of the remaining staff promptly scurried over with a plastic bag and wrapped it around her plastic brace while a second young lady brought over some towels. “I could get used to this far too easily.”
Goose grunted from where she was stretched out flat on the pool deck, spread out across a half-dozen towels. There were five maids putting oil on her wings and a huge Samoan in swimming trunks sitting by her head, feeding her grapes whenever she opened her mouth.
That was Mark. He still was not quite certain how he wound up in this position, but was not about to give up his bowl of grapes. Having a magical horse, now two magical horses in the room was a dream come true, something he had wanted ever since he was a child growing up on the islands. And he was feeling very much like a child now.
“I’m Mark,” he said. “Goose is a little worn out.”
Widget lowered herself into the bubbling water carefully, leaving her plastic-wrapped limb on the damp pool deck. “Sparring with you?”
“Cleaning with the housekeeping staff. She asked for it, since she was on your castle cleaning staff before she became a soldier. I really don’t spar much,” he admitted while flexing a bicep, which made interesting things happen among human guests during his normal days. From the sudden equine attention he gained, the attraction was cross-species, although most of the maids merely rolled their eyes. “Generally, I lead yoga classes and serve at the bar. Some of the guys are going to spar with her later, but she just got done learning about the room cleaning routine and towel animals.”
“So many different towel creatures,” murmured Goose from her flattened position. “Did you take apart the engines, Widge?”
“I only looked,” said the pink unicorn, which Mark was still trying to get his mind wrapped around. After all, he loved magical horses in fiction, and had several tattered paperbacks in his cabin dating back to before he bought a Kindle and the entire catalog of Valdemar stories to go on it. Talking unicorns were something else, and a bat-winged pony small enough to be tucked under one arm…
“So what happened to Claire?” he asked instead.
“I thought she would have been here with Dakota and Karla.” The unicorn’s horn glowed slightly, but one of the maids spoke up first.
“They used the weight room, swam a few laps, then your young gentleman excused himself to get some sleep.”
One of the other oil-scented maids giggled. “Your agent friend stayed in the hot tub just long enough to pretend she wasn’t following him.”
“Then she followed him,” said another maid, which set off a wave of oily giggling.
“We’re not supposed to notice,” said Widget. “They’re very careful. You know, Dakota’s children are real cuties and he’s got a bunch of pictures of them, so he’s trying to get back together with his ex-wife so he can have some influence in their life.”
“Only she’s a bitch,” said Goose without raising her head from her prone position. “Not even a nice bitch like Lamina. He tries not to say that out loud since he loves those girls.”
“Please don’t repeat that,” said Widget, slumping down a little in the hot tub. “They’d both get into trouble and they’ve been so good to us. Everypony… I mean everyhuman has so far.”
A general wave of friendly amnesia swept around the hot tub, leaving Mark to his task of quiet grape-dispensing. There was just too much for him to keep inside, but he had some time after the ponies were scheduled to leave and before the next wave of passengers boarded, so he planned on having a long phone call with his family back home.
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 10:25 PM June 29, 2015
Location: Casa de Henderson, Randolph Kansas
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“And I thought moving grain sacks was going to be the most physical part of our marriage.” Maria Bruener grunted as she took another box from the UPS truck and went back into the house again. “I hope Claire appreciates this.”
“I’m not sure she knows.” Jon picked up his box from the UPS driver and turned to follow his wife, making sure to keep to one side so the ponies helping load would not step on his foot by accident. “When she called me to make sure the boxes would get where they needed to go, it sounded like one of her little four-footed friends just made a catalog order. I don’t think she expected Widget to click on ‘knives’ in the Cold Steel website and just say ‘Yes’ to everything.”
“There’s some boxes from Museum Replicas in back,” called out the UPS driver. “Not too many, at least.”
“Ooo,” chirped Double Billing as she picked up a box of rapiers in her magic. “Do you think she’d mind if we unpacked a few of those boxes. Just to look, of course.”
Jon eased his way through the basement door to the corner where the boxes were being stacked. The thought of putting so much weight on the first floor above fifty-year-old beams had nixed their first unloading plan, because he didn’t think Dakota Henderson would like it too much if the house he had never seen since he purchased it was likewise destroyed by a knifealance. At least the house was insured. Jon had made sure of that, because he worked for an insurance company, after all, and it was the least he could do for a fellow military vet who was taking care of the mobile disaster area named Widget.
“I’m glad we got the recording studio done and the water heater installed before this all arrived.” Mike Rowe pushed one of the cardboard boxes full of knives into a more stable position before taking the box that Double Billing floated over to him.
“And you both autographed the water heater for Dakota,” said Jon with a smirk. “I wish this could have been an episode of Dirty Jobs but I suppose it hasn’t been too dirty and there’s too many happy ponies to call it a job. Are they going to get you to sing in the new studio?”
“Hell, yeah.” Blake heaved the box of knives he had carried in on top of the stack. “I know you’re just a volunteer, Mr. Rowe, but our fleabite quarantine is over in a couple of days, and we’d be honored if you could record a couple of tracks with the band. We’ll sign over the rights so you can fundraise for your foundation with it, if that’ll help. It’ll give us something to get warmed up on before Sweetie Belle gets back and we start on that project.”
“And I’ll stay way out of the way,” said Jon, who had no musical talent to speak of or to sing about. “Speaking of which, it’s been awfully quiet around here since Trixie took off so quick this evening. I wonder what the Crusaders are up to, now that they’re safely away from my farm equipment?”
“Trixie has that guard with her, and the kids have only been gone since this morning,” chided Maria as she brought another box in, stepping carefully in the glare of the porch light. “What kind of trouble could they get into in one day?”
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Time: 10:30 PM June 29, 2015
Location: Hendrick’s Animal Farm Bed and Breakfast, Kansas
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It had been quite some time since Senior Agent O’Malley, US Secret Service, had tucked a child into bed. Thankfully, you never lose the skillset even without practicing for a time, although his upcoming retirement was supposed to come with enough free time to practice with his grandkids as plain old Grandad Conner. He straightened up and looked over the kid’s bedroom at Hendrick’s Animal Farm (with Bed and Breakfast), thankful that some things remained the same no matter the species.
The pony children went generally one to a twin bed, with the very small ones doubling up. The last young pony under the covers was a rather peculiar child who had spent the whole visit with the animals sketching away in his notebook, pencil held firmly in his teeth and never stopping for a moment. The small colt curled up next to his greenish unicorn friend without a word, but Conner made sure to collect his pencils and the notebook because of the high probability of midnight sketching lasting until dawn. Also, he took the screwdriver that the other pony had hidden, taking a few minutes to reconnect the parts of the bunk bed she had been in the process of disassembling before he arrived.
The last bed held three ticking time bombs, or as Conner had learned to call them, the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Apparently, the evening spent with the various camels, zebras, bunnies, peacocks, kangaroos, buffalo, and ostriches had worn them out.
The day certainly had exhausted the adults. Lucky was back in the room, soaking in the hot tub, and Miss Thermal had both her foal and Clover sleeping in a cloud-crib nearby so the two tiny terrors could be guarded against anything. Or maybe anything was being guarded against them. It was difficult to tell.
As soon as all the children were properly beneath sheets, Conner turned for his own room and the attraction of an hour soaking in the hot tub while while in discussions with a professional historian from the pony world, but something bothered him. Backtracking over to the Crusaders’ bed, he bent over and examined a fuzzy green and yellow alligator with a mottled pattern of blackish blotches. It was quite an unattractive and somewhat bland stuffed animal, or at least until its googly eyes popped open and it squeaked one word.
“Hi!”
It startled Conner enough to nearly fall down, but after a skeptical look at the alligator’s dopey and idiotic expression, he managed a fairly weak “Hi” in return before turning his head just far enough to look at Sweetie Belle. The sleepy little unicorn gave the animal a squeeze and snuggled down against its furry belly with a happy sigh.
“What… is that?” managed Conner.
“It’s Winslow,” murmured Sweetie. “Isn’t he adorable? I’m gonna take him home and show him to my sister.”
It left Conner in a thoughtful mood as he returned to the bedroom suite that he was sharing with the Equestrians, mostly because of the odd stuffed animal but partially since he was looking forward to a long quiet soak to end the day. Unlike the ponies, Conner put on swimming trunks before slipping into the hot tub with a sigh and one brief phrase that encompassed his entire experience so far.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” Lucky closed his phone and gave Conner a puzzled look
“I think I just destroyed the world but I don’t know it yet,” admitted Conner.
“Oh, is it Tuesday already?” Lucky settled down in the water with a low chuckle. “The Crusaders used to be so much more difficult. Even in your world, I don’t think they can top some of their past disasters, and we lived through them all so far, though Apple Bloom's sister's eyebrows never grew back right after one incident.” He settled down further into the bubbling hot tub, although the dull-green earth pony kept one eye part-way open to watch the cloud crib and his own daughter.
They were sage words of advice from somebody who had been there and survived, so Conner tried his best to get comfortable in the hot tub and relax. After all, the Equestrians were probably more comfortable being in his dimension than he ever would have been in theirs.
It was Conner’s good fortune to have been bitten by a flea and assigned to the children’s all-Kansas tour. Otherwise, he would have been back in Washington and most probably assigned to the ‘Equestrian Welcome Event’ that had been slapped together on short notice. Politicians needed pony exposure in the worst possible way, since popularity rubbed off by close proximity.
Anthony had texted about his missed ‘opportunity’ to volunteer for the Orlando trip, and Conner had made sure to respond with a note stating the absolute inevitability of their communication being subpoenaed someday, and that there would be more chances for Agent Washington to advance his career in the near future, etc, etc, and other such official verbage.
It was probably for the best. The event did not go exactly as planned, to say the least.
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 9:30 PM June 29, 2015
Location: Special Outreach meeting, Swan and Dolphin Hotel Ballroom, Orlando
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Isabella Schwant had been in the event coordinator team on Disney properties for nearly a decade now, across several hotels and resorts. This was a unique experience far above anything she had seen before. Through luck and a bit of weaseling to her boss, she had actually managed to wrangle the concierge position for the Equestrian who was going to entertain the absolute horde of wealthy politicians and donors at the ‘Special Outreach’ meeting. Now if the Equestrian would actually show up.
The close-packed collection of political power was more than a little unnerving to Isabella, much like a collection of lizards waiting on a fly. They were growing impatient in the Hemisphere ballroom despite the waitstaff circulating among the tables for drink orders and answering the inevitable question with “The Equestrian is almost to the hotel, so it won’t be very much longer.”
All she knew was her upcoming client was a unicorn, although that seemed to be an adequate description considering the two-legged overcrowded environment. Photographers clustered by the front entrance to the hotel mixed in with reporters taking breathless notes, leaving a dense mess that anybody would have trouble pushing through. Thankfully, there were several back entrances where special guests could be slipped in without drama, and most of the interior hotel spaces had been restricted to guests and convention-attendees.
Ben’s radio gave out a brief squawk, sounding much like somebody had stepped on the microphone at the other end, and the security guard looked down the corridor with a frown. “That should have been our guest arriving,” he said. “Stay here, Bella. I’ll go find out.”
“Men,” she growled under her breath, but only after the broad-shouldered guard had gotten out of earshot. After all, he filled out the uniform well, although he was already married and thus off-limits. She had paired with Ben several times over the last year, and he would have been ideal husband material. Nothing bothered him, like a still pool of water in the middle of a storm, and he had exquisite taste in food. There was no dining place in EPCOT unscouted by his nose, which made him an excellent companion when escorting a client.
Ben was gone for some time, so she took the opportunity to peek into the back door of the stage area and the podium set up for their extraterrestrial guest. It was a bit minimal, but as long as the client could string together two or three sentences, the politicians in the audience would stand and clap like trained seals. It would have been much more interesting to sit in on the Association of Insurance Adjusters convention going on just across the partition, squished to about half their original floor space to make room for this impromptu political gathering.
Giving a quick reassurance to the cast member backstage who was set to prepare the speaker, Isabella turned back to the corridor and the relative lack of horned equines it contained. Thankfully, there was a faint clatter of what could only be hooves headed in her direction, along with Ben’s breathless attempts at cautioning the equine to a slower pace.
Her first glimpse of a real alien pony was somewhat jarring, since she was headed down the corridor in her direction head-first at a good clip and did not look as if she was slowing down. Just out of arm’s reach behind the pony ran Ben, half stooped over in a futile attempt at grabbing onto the pony to slow her down and stumbling from his awkward position every few steps.
“Hello, I’m your host this evening—”
Really, Isabella did not think any syllable after the first word reached the galloping pony as she ran past, headed for the door into the public area instead of the backstage door like she should have been. Isabella sprinted to catch up, falling into line behind Ben as the pony burst through the door into the bright lights of the public hallways, paused, and made a sharp right turn just as Ben lunged forward to grab her.
His thick fingers almost closed on one pale-blue leg right over some sort of ‘sock’ that marked her fur, but the pony put on a burst of speed that made a curl appear in the throw rug right under Ben’s foot as he stumbled for footing and went groin-first into an overstuffed chair.
Isabella slowed down to check on him, decided from the way Ben was clutching his… midsection that he would very much prefer her not to look at his injury, and turned to pursue her client. That momentary hesitation let the pony get an extraordinary lead, which she used to duck into the ballroom door next to the event she was supposed to attend.
“Greetings Earthlings!” came a loud and male voice from the insurance adjuster’s meeting over the rising murmur of surprised business executives. “Behold, for Schadenfreude is finally here. You may applaud with great vigor and throw money.”
Another pony came bursting out of the door behind Isabella, only this one was dressed in dark armor with a frayed curl of reddish mane drooping down onto her face. Where the first pony had seemed young and dashing, this darker reddish one was more middle-aged and frumpy, with split ends and an irritated expression that indicated her transition to the next age bracket was taking place right now regardless of her wishes. She glanced from side to side, then caught Isabella’s eyes and blurted out, “Have you seen that bucking idiot?”
She pointed. The pony galloped past Isabella like she was not even there, giving her a good look at the reddish horn and sweat-soaked maroon coat of an actual unicorn that she recognized from the Bruener videos.
“Specialist Rose Petal,” she called while taking off after the armored guard. “I thought the Equestrian guest was a female unicorn.”
“She is!” snapped the guard over her shoulder as she skidded to a halt in front of the ballroom entrance where the insurance adjusters were meeting. Greenish magic formed around the doorknobs and the doors practically flung themselves open. “Schadenfreude! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Meeting and greeting,” declared the pale blue-white pony with one hoof out to shake. The middle-aged executive at the other end was caught totally unaware, and was staring at the hoof like it was some sort of snake. That was an understandable reaction, considering the startled human had been listening to a presentation about some insurance software before having a pony pop up in front of him.
Admittedly, Schadenfreude was a disconcerting pony. The pale blue of his coat was mottled and uneven much the same way his dark mane was tangled so tightly that Isabella’s fingers itched for a currycomb and a pair of scissors. There was an erratic dark ring around one ankle and his barrel that she mistook for clothes at first, along with a square-ish mark on his rump that was subtly tilted to one side like a mis-hung painting. He had the most honest expression of sincere care that she had ever seen, even compared to politicians and used car salesmen, and he turned that trusting smile back on the poor unsuspecting insurance executive like a wolf spotting a wounded sheep. Or at least until Rose snapped at him with an experienced voice that was one step away from cold-blooded murder.
“Well, get your stowaway tail out of there and next door where the official meeting is supposed to be!” If mere glares could set things on fire, Schadenfreude would have been incinerated to ashes. The unicorn guard moved to one side and held the door open for the pony’s departure from the insurance adjuster’s meeting, then said a few terse words of apology to the awestruck audience before leaving them to their original presentation, now shot to pieces.
“So you’re my client?” asked Isabella, rapidly picking up speed as she talked. “My roommates have been keeping up on the news coming out of Kansas and must have watched your beatdown by the protesters a dozen times.”
The middle-aged unicorn visibly flinched, and Isabella felt terrible about her first words, or at least until she noticed Schadenfreude had dodged between two impassive security guards and vanished into the political meeting where he was supposed to go in the first place.
“Behold, Humans!” he called out from inside the room. “Be humbled at the awesome powers we bring for your education. No need to grovel, but a few cheers or applause would be just fine.”
Rose skidded to a halt again, looked up at the two guards standing to either side of the doorway, then gave a brief nod to each of them in turn. “Darius,” she said quietly. “Senior Agent Hallman.”
It took Isabella a moment to realize this was the same FBI agent who she had last seen on video being lifted down from the rafters of their training facility after being severely ‘Goosed.’ There was a point of discussion among her roommates if any of the agents would ever be seen in public again, and it made her feel at least a little more comfortable at the thought that somebody with pony experience was involved in this presentation.
“Rose,” said Agent Hallman back, keeping a perfectly straight face even though his blue eyes flickered to Isabella and back.
The frazzled unicorn glanced over at the door leading to the backstage corridors, obviously concerned about her missing pony. “Can I trust you with Schadenfreude while I get the real entertainment ready for her presentation?”
The ghost of a smile passed over the hefty black agent’s face while Hallman next to him finally scowled. “How did you do that? Why are you here of all places?”
“Punishment detail,” said Rose. “You?”
“I think it’s a reward,” said Hallman with a glance over his shoulder where Schadenfreude was loudly mixing with the political elite behind the closed ballroom doors.
“Let me know if you still think that after you foalsit Schadenfreude.” Rose turned and began to trot away. “Come on, young lady. I’ll introduce you to the Greatest and most Powerful unicorn on the planet. Then she’ll be your problem.”
Unfortunately, there was no unicorn waiting in the back hallway. Well, other than the one Isabella brought with her. Ben had recovered enough to hobble after them and volunteered to see if their missing entertainer was still in the car outside, which left the darkish magenta guard alone after he headed down the hallway in that direction.
“So who was that?” asked Isabella as soon as Ben was out of earshot. “The quick unicorn, that is.”
“Schadenfreude,” growled Rose. “And he’s not a unicorn. He’s some sort of hellish demon from the depths of Tartarus.”
From the brief glimpse Isabella had gotten of the pale-blue pony, he had not seemed to be that terrible. She had dealt with human movie stars before, after all.
“He’s normally Blueblood’s butler,” continued Rose, practically spitting the name like it was a vile obscenity. “He was far too quiet over the last few days since we got thrown into your world. Made the guards more nervous than if he had been acting up. That’s probably why he was on his best behavior.”
“How did he stow away on your trip here? I heard you tell the FBI agents,” explained Isabella.
“He hid in the airplane icebox,” growled Rose again, matched by a growl from her stomach. “Mister Gates was nice enough to provide the loan of his transportation on short notice when Mayor Mare received the call. I was assigned to Trixie as security and we were in the air almost at once. I have no idea how he got to the airplane ahead of us, but he came popping out of the icebox once we were in the air, and Mister Gates refused to let me throw him out. Worse, he threw out all the food so he’d fit in there, so we’re all hungry.”
The unicorn gave out a frustrated huff of air that blew a tuft of frazzled mane out of her eyes, then looked down the hallway in obvious hopes of seeing her client. It gave Isabella a nearly irresistible urge to give a reassuring pat to the alien pony, but she was unsure how the unicorn would react, even since she had seen other humans on TV doing the same thing. After all, Rose seemed far more like her mother’s age than a pet.
“Our most annoying pony matched against your most annoying human,” Rose snapped. “The whole world uses his computer language. I purchased a portable computer to take home, but after a few hours trying to make it work, I threw it into a box. It was like a machine version of Schadenfreude, but at least you could turn it off if you pushed on the button long enough.”
Isabella gave up resisting. She reached out and patted the depressed guard on the head, running her fingers through her russet mane and scratching one dark magenta ear. There was something she wanted to ask ever since she first recognized Rose Petal, but it would be terribly embarrassing if she was wrong. Still, it wasn’t like she was ever going to get this opportunity again.
“The first news reports had a report about how many ponies crossed into our world,” started Isabella carefully. “They said there was one changeling in the group, but we didn’t hear anything about him or her afterward. My roommates had all kinds of theories about it, and since the dragon explained all the different kinds of ponies and griffons and changelings during that one interview and he said that changelings ate love that means they absorb emotions—” Isabella’s fingers found a snarl in the guard’s mane and started to unknot it because she really did not want to go any further.
“It’s not Schadenfreude, “ said Rose carefully. “Just because his cutie mark is tilted enough off-center that you want to straighten it up, and his mane is all tangled to the point you’d need a lawn mower to trim it doesn’t mean he’s anything other than a very, very, very annoying twit.”
“Actually, I thought it was you ever since we saw the footage of you reacting to those religious nuts before they came out of the car,” said Isabella very rapidly. “Now you’ve been cooped up in a plane for several hours with two annoying people—”
“Three,” said Rose. “Trixie is not quite as bad. Even though we had to stop three times on the drive here so she could pick up ‘supplies’ for her presentation. And something called a slurpy.” Rose hesitated, glanced up and down the empty hallways in search of her missing mare, and added, “They’re very good.”
“And you’re diverting again,” said Isabella. “That’s fine if you don’t want to say anything.”
There was a long pause, then a sideways glance up at her much like her own mother had given her when she was acting too smart for her own good. It said volumes.
“Do the others know?” she asked instead.
“Not Schadenfreude.” Rose shuddered. “Trixie knew since we met. She gave me pointers. Critiques, even. Did… you want to see?”
“Don’t change if you’re hungry,” said Isabella quickly. “If Ben gets back unexpectedly, he’d flip. He can’t even step on a spider.”
“I can’t either,” grumbled Rose, giving another look up and down the empty hallways. “Icky things. My husband puts them in jars and releases them away from the house. And you’re right. I’m hungry, but you’re helping.” She shifted positions to let the scratching fingers reach her other ear and let out a low noise like a purring kitten.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” squeaked Isabella, but recovered quickly and added a second hand for ear-scratching when the noise from the ballroom increased. “At least the politicians sound entertained. Your Schadenfreude has them cheering in there.”
“He’s a charming weasel when he tries,” said Rose with a grunt and leaning her armored torso into Isabella’s leg. “That’s probably the only reason he’s alive. And with Darius and Hallman watching over him, I can actually do my job. That should be enough scratching for now,” she managed. “I’m still running on fumes, although…” She cocked her head and looked at the closed door to the backstage area of the ballroom. “I’m getting a familiar bit of joy from in there.”
“She’s already at the stage,” gasped Isabella, who promptly found herself in a race for the back door. Unicorn… or changeling magic was quicker than her reach, and a green magical aura formed around the doorknob even as an overpowering amplified voice from inside the ballroom deafened her enough that she could feel her dental fillings rattle.
“Behold, humans!” came the loud—and more annoying—voice of Schadenfreude from the ballroom, along with a sharp feedback squeal. “The one! The only! Great and Powerful Truxie!”
Rose yanked the door open with her magic and revealed something that would stay with Isabella for the rest of her life. The crowd was filled with wide-eyed people, dressed in their finest clothes and staring up in fascination at their pet alien entertainer. She knew there were at least several congressmen and one ex-president out there, but all she could really see was her client’s backside.
The stage was occupied by a bright blue unicorn with a pointed hat and star-adorned cloak, standing proudly on her hind legs and giving a broad gesture to the crowd of politicians and donors packed into the ballroom. This was obviously the pinnacle of her career, the most important magic show she had ever given to the most important people in a brand new world, and she was going all out. Large boxes were spread out to either side of the stage, filled to overflowing with the products of several local fireworks stands, which were quite obviously the result of the side-trips by her client and one nefarious associate.
But Isabella’s attention was riveted by the sight of a spluttering fuse vanishing into the boxes.
She moved without thinking, hitting Rose’s side in a solid tackle that moved her behind the doorframe just as the explosions began. Screaming whistles and deafening detonations made any conversation impossible, although none of the whizzing and spinning fireworks came shooting back out of the open doorway. It made Isabella’s supposedly heroic tackle look silly in hindsight, but only while they were picking themselves off the floor.
The concussions of fireworks had not died down completely, but it was rapidly being replaced by a loud watery hiss and the earsplitting ‘Blat-Blat-Blat’ of the fire alarm. A fog of mist washed out from the open doorway, accompanied by a dripping-wet blue unicorn who was a far cry from the confident performer of just a minute ago.
“What kind—cough—of fire control enchantments—cough—are those?”
“They don’t have enchantments, you blithering twit!” snapped Rose over the sound of the alarm and hiss of the sprinkler system. She struggled the rest of the way to her hooves, pushing Isabella to one side. “You can’t counterspell when there are no spells to counter! You blew up our best chance to make a positive impression on the humans.”
“What?” said Trixie. “I can’t hear you.”
Even dripping wet with her pointed hat drooping over her face, Trixie was an impressive sight. She was only the second unicorn Isabella had ever seen, so that was understandable. There was something that twinged a thread of sympathy in Isabella’s heart to see a performer go from such heights to abject misery, and it brought a matching idea to mind.
She peeked in the back door of the ballroom and regarded the huge evacuation backlog in the sprinkler-spraying space. Politicians in dripping suits and wives in formerly elegant gowns stood eagerly in a rough wet line, all awaiting their turn with the pale cyan blur she could barely see though the artificial rain. She could still hear his grating voice despite the distance and the number of humans gathered around him.
“Thank you for attending, sir or madam. Would you like a picture with your telephone? Oops. I’ll just dry it off and it will be fine.”
“The most annoying pony in our world and the most annoying people in your world. How does this sound? I’ve got my concierge pass, so I can get you into EPCOT. It’s about a half-hour walk if we take our time, considering the crowds, and we’ll get you fed enough we’ll have to roll you around the parks.”
“What?” said Trixie again.
“And we’ll leave Schadenfreude to the politicians,” added Isabella.
Rose had looked as if she were about to object, but settled back down as the concept soaked in. “Happy people?” she asked.
“The happiest place on Earth.” Isabella plucked up Trixie’s hat and wrung out a puddle of water, along with a few damp playing cards. “They’re open late this evening, and the place is full of kids who will go bonkers over seeing an actual unicorn.”
“I think I can hear you a little,” said Trixie at the top of her lungs. “Can you hear me?”
By the time they made it to the EPCOT front gates, Trixie had regained most of her hearing, gained a collection of ecstatic children, and lost every bit of her depressed and miserable attitude. The trick where she turned Rose into various important Equestrians was particularly popular, although Trixie refused to admit that the stunt was achieved by way of changeling transformation.
Or at least out loud.