The Military Weapons Branch was a department of military intelligence, despite most of its employees being civilian. Arc had worked for MWB since leaving the Army. As he had been instructed by the Shades, he didn’t let it slip that he would soon be moving on.
His wife being a lycan and him holding a security clearance, Arc already had the qualifications necessary to move from weapons analysis to supernatural weapons analysis. There was, by and large, no difference between the two other than the fact that he couldn’t tell his coworkers about his new assignments.
That was actually easier than it sounded. Arc had a cubicle of his own in the office and the hard tile floors made it easy to tell if anypony was approaching. He could go all day and not see anypony else if he wished.
Arc’s cubicle was made of three walls coated in fabric and arranged in a square. He’d oriented his desk facing the empty fourth side of the box. The desk was old and battered, having probably been around since before Arc was born. It was at odds with the new office chair, which was surprisingly comfortable for government furniture.
The surface of the desk held two computer monitors, one for unclassified browsing and one for the secure network. A matching keyboard and mouse were arranged in front of them with a pad of sticky notes and a few pens off to the side.
On the front of his desk was a nameplate. Arranged to either side of it were several decorative coins, most of them cast of brass and bearing the crossed cannons of the Royal Artillery Corps. Arc had gotten them from friends in the Army and also from units in which he had served.
Tacked to the wall was a chart bearing the names and pictures of all sorts of different hats. Arc knew them all by heart even if he didn’t wear hats himself. The poster had been left there by the cubicle's previous occupant, but Arc never had the heart to get rid of it. Now he wonded if he should bring it to his new office when he got one.
Personal touches aside, this space was for business and was where Arc did his work. The beauty of his job was that it was largely devoid of regulation. He received tasks through e-mail and replied with his results the same way.
Arc put his ID into the computer’s card reader and typed his password. With a secure card, he then did the same for the classified computer.
His first stop was e-mail. There were a few small queries, and Arc made short work of answering them.
In his downtime, Arc was expected to work on long-term assignments. Projects on deep subjects and in-depth weapons systems were taken care of through collaboration with other analysts.
Before opening the projects folder on the shared drive, however, Arc reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small notebook. The pages were still crisp, as it was brand new.
He opened the cover and glanced at the short list of information he’d written down, the things he’d gotten from Joe the previous night. There wasn’t any of it he could act on here in the MWB office, however.
When his e-mail was taken care of, Arc perused a few news websites. Current events were always important to his job. Arc mostly focused on foreign news. It could give him an indication of potential conflicts. Recently there had been more rumbling between Minos and the Gryphon Empire. The governments themselves had not begun hostilities, but several idealist and ultra-national groups had skirmished across the border. To Arc, that meant he should be on the lookout for weapons smuggling and other clandestine activities.
Worryingly, both Minos and the Gryphon Empire were calling on Equestria to come to their aid. Choosing to benefit either side would have consequences. Even brokering peace would be a challenge. The Princesses would have a difficult time of it, Arc thought.
He also noticed some national and local articles. Crime was up, although that was nothing new. A house had burned down in south San Palomino. Somepony had been busted trying to sneak into the local Navy base. As a coastal city with pleasant weather, San Palomino was a large hub of the Equestrian Navy.
It seemed like a good time for a cup of coffee, so Arc got up. Speaking of the Navy, as he came out of his cubicle, he nearly bumped into a female sailor who was walking by. The two of them jerked to halt, avoiding a collision.
Gunner’s Mate Seabreeze was an active duty military liaison to MWB. Like Arc, her job involved the study of weapons.
“Good morning, Mr. Arc,” the unicorn mare said, stepping to the side to let him pass. She adjusted her charcoal mane and blue uniform blouse, the sleeves of which didn’t quite cover the colorful tattoos that decorated her forelegs.
The process of freeze branding the skin to get rid of natural pigment and then getting a competent unicorn tattooist to insert new color had always sounded unpleasant to Arc. Seabreeze, however, had used her golden coat as a canvas to depict a myriad of designs including stars, waves, and ocean creatures.
Arc nodded to her and went on his way. Seabreeze was good at her job and polite, but not particularly amiable. However, the first two attributes were probably more important than the last one.
Getting his coffee from the office kitchenette, Arc returned to his workstation. Standing beside the cubicle as he returned was Seabreeze, and in her hoof was Arc’s notebook.
Concealing a sudden shot of panic that went through him, he said, “I was just looking for that.”
She gave it over. “I think you dropped it when we almost ran into each other.”
Arc nodded. “Thanks.” Mentally, he was kicking himself for being so careless. However, as the sailor walked away, his thoughts grew suspicious. Had he simply dropped the notebook? Flipping through the pages revealed nothing new. The information written on the first page hadn’t changed. It was what Joe had provided and was rather vague without context. He had no proof that she had even looked at it.
Still, a possible security breach had to be reported. It was that way in the military and at MWB, so Arc reasoned that the Shades would also want to know about a potential compromise.
He sat down at his desk. He had phone numbers for Proficient and Harv, but didn’t think it was a good idea to discuss such matters on an unsecured line. E-mail wasn’t possible without having their addresses, not to mention there was no telling who might be reading it – his bosses, some higher level of government agency, or a nefarious hacker.
Arc took out his notebook and wrote Get some way to communicate securely. Be it horseshoephone, Batmare Signal, or telepathy, this was a problem that needed to solved sooner rather than later.
Speaking of problems, at that moment Roxy was having a few of her own. It was a struggle trying to get enough privacy to analyze samples from Buttercup. The genetics lab where she worked had a steady flow of business. A lot of it was contracting from the San Palomino Police Department, although there was the odd paternity case thrown in.
Roxy had a docket of samples to process each day, and if she worked quickly she could open a gap for covert testing. The Shades hadn’t yet gotten things organized for her to switch jobs, and until she had a more private lab, she had decided to take her chances.
It actually wasn’t that hard to slip in some other samples. Nobody could tell one pony’s tissue from another at a glance. The real problem was making space for Buttercup’s tests and not getting her results mixed in with anypony else’s.
As she was looking over the centrifuge for separating samples, Carbon Lattice came into the room. Carbon was stout, although not overly tall, with a pinto coat. He had heavy brows and an unusually pointed snout. Like Roxy, he wore a lab coat, safety glasses, and nitrile gloves.
“A few of us were going out to lunch,” he said. “Want to come?”
Roxy smiled. “Sure. The usual time?”
Carbon nodded. “I was thinking the new bistro with a view of the beach. I hear good things about it.”
He was always finding places that served expensive food in small portions. Not that Roxy held that against him. Carbon said goodbye and left the lab.
Roxy turned back to her work. Genotyping was not an easy or fast process by any means. Arranging the chromosomes was difficult enough. Actually taking a peek inside to determine traits required specialized equipment and significant research.
Working quickly, she managed to obtain basic results on Buttercup’s sample by lunch. She had thirty two pairs of chromosomes, just like a regular pony. A very powerful microscope could actually make the chromosomes visible, although that wouldn’t help sequence the DNA.
Roxy’s own genetic code showed no irregularities. Whether her wolf self would was unknown. How she could transform into a different body and not show some sort of irregularity in her DNA was a problem of a question.
Not that magic could be expected to hold up to science, but it seemed almost unbelievable to Roxy that her body appeared completely normal to any tests. Then again, being singled out as a lycan every time she went to the doctor would make medical care a literal nightmare for her.
She finished cleaning up after testing Buttercup’s sample. There simply was not time to sequence every bit of her DNA to search for what might cause Buttercup’s reaction to the moon. Then again, would there be anything to find? Perhaps there was something else that caused her disorder, like Roxy’s own condition.
Magic genes? Sure, why not? Roxy chuckled to herself as she shed her lab coat and washed up. Although, as she thought about it, that idea provided an interesting possibility. DNA coded a pony’s physical makeup. What if there was some way to test a pony’s magic code? Could it be like a second, underlying set of genetics?
Roxy was still pondering it as she met up with the lunch group to carpool to the restaurant. Carbon sat beside her during the ride. Occasionally he would glance her way, although he never asked if there was something on her mind. Roxy wasn’t sure what she would have told him.
The restaurant turned out to be quite respectable. Carbon ordered something that Roxy couldn’t pronounce. It was good, then, that she simply took his suggestion on what to order for herself. Most of the group did.
Being a lycan in a restaurant was always interesting. As night predators, they were more driven by scent than ponies. The blend of aromas coming from the kitchen held at least as much of Roxy’s attention as the conversation at the table. She made a few notes of seasonings to try herself. She’d discovered the ability to recognize individual spices from memory when looking for them on the rack at the grocery store.
The food, when it came, was even more memorable.
By contrast, a grand feasting experience was not what Arc was looking for as he entered a diner near the MWB building. He’d stayed busy that morning before going out to lunch, calling Proficient and Harv to ask for a meeting.
As Arc came in the door, he picked a booth away from the windows and sat so he could see the rest of the diner. A quick check revealed nopony else present that he had seen before. Arc’s eyes kept moving.
Anypony could have been carrying a sidearm under their clothing, although Arc saw no obvious bulges. He observed a backpack resting on the floor next to two ponies. It didn’t look full, and at any rate wasn’t large enough to conceal a compact submachine gun, much less an assault rifle.
So, the most dangerous threat in the room might have been pistols. Good to know. The booth might stop the bullets, but Arc had already charted an exit back through the kitchen if it came to that.
Neither his Army training nor the recent Shade indoctrination had made him any more paranoid than he already was. Arc just thought it was a good idea to be prepared.
Proficient and Harv showed up before the waitress came to take Arc’s order. Arc started thinking his message to Harv before the two of them sat down.
Harv held up his hooves at the mental outburst. “Whoa, calm down. Someone looking at your notebook is not the problem of the century.”
“I thought I should say something; better safe than sorry,” Arc said out loud for Proficient’s benefit.
“Good idea,” Proficient replied. “We’ll look into it, and you would do well to continue to monitor the situation.”
“Although I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Harv added. “You’re keeping your notebook intentionally vague, right?”
Arc nodded. He certainly would be paying extra attention to that from now on.
“Since we’re here,” said Proficient, “I thought I would offer to let you interview Ms. Buttercup. Perhaps you could get some perspective on her weapons operation.”
“But lunch first,” cut in Harv. He spoke his own mind, although Arc was thinking the same thing.
The food was average, but at least it came quickly. Arc hurried through the meal, although truthfully it didn’t matter that much. He could probably get away with taking the afternoon off MWB. It was doubtful anypony would notice him missing from his cubicle and if they did, what would they do—fire him? If anything, that would make the transition to working for the Shades easier.
After lunch, the three of them got into the government sedan that Proficient and Harv seemed fond of and drove to a facility across the city. Arc had never been there before, but it was located a few blocks from the library where Roxy had met a dragon.
They took blood at the front desk. Arc briefly wondered if Granite the wizard was actively holding up the process of building him into barriers out of spite.
Upstairs, Arc was introduced to Market, who he thought looked more like a free-spirited college student than a prison warden. However, she certainly had the hardware. The belt she wore was outfitted with a wicked-looking baton and hobbles.
“If you really want to meet her, I’ll bring her out,” said Market. “I have to warn you, though, after the full moon last night she’s going to be pretty uncooperative.”
She showed the three stallions to the interrogation room and they waited while Market went down the hall. Arc looked at Proficient and Harv. “How do you want to do this?”
“I recommend you get some practice,” said Proficient, gesturing to one of the chairs at the table in the center of the room.
“I’ll stand here see what I can pick up,” added Harv.
Down the hall, Arc heard a door open and then what sounded like a short struggle. Some choice words were exchanged. He was just about to step into the hallway to see what was going on when Market returned, practically dragging Buttercup.
Buttercup’s mane was wild and she tugged at the hobbles Market had slapped on her fetlocks. Market shoved her down to sit in front of the table, locking her in place with a chain through the back of the chair.
Arc walked around the table and sat across from Buttercup. She stared at him through the unkempt strands of mane that fell into her eyes. Arc opened his mouth to speak, but she suddenly spit on him and demanded, “Who are you?”
Arc glanced down at the saliva on his shirt and decided not to touch it. He took out his notebook and a pen. Buttercup continued to stare at him, appearing to grow impatient as he took his time. “I asked you a question!”
Arc nodded. “You did. But I’m not the one locked up.”
Buttercup shifted slightly, testing her bonds. Market stood behind her, watching closely. Arc went on. “I’d like to know how that HU-7 ended up in your apartment.”
“Well, it’s a free country, isn’t it?” Buttercup said.
“Not for illegal weapons,” Arc replied. “But you weren’t alone in this. What does Sisal Twist do for you?”
Buttercup leaned back slightly. “Who told you about her?”
“Do the weapons belong to her?” Arc asked, ignoring her question.
“Of course not!” Buttercup’s tone was adamant.
Her sudden shift in attitude was interesting, Arc thought. He made a note and asked, “How do you get them into the country?”
“Magic.” Buttercup’s lips turned up slightly. Her displayed emotions so far had been like a roller coaster, and Arc wondered if she was really that unstable or merely feigning it. Of course, the possibility existed that she was telling the truth about the magic. Arc wrote that down.
However, as the conversation continued, he didn’t really learn anything. Buttercup’s answers were vague and often rude, when she replied at all. Not many questions were answered reasonably. After fifteen minutes, Proficient called a halt to things and Market dragged her prisoner away.
Arc’s notebook had a few new entries, but he felt frustrated. Maybe if there was more evidence, he could have forced something out. Regardless, he was no trained interrogator.
“You did well, keeping your emotions in check,” Proficient said with a smile.
“Better yet, you got her thinking,” added Harv. “Most of it was pretty convoluted but I pulled out a few interesting things. By the way, what’s RDX? Some kind of explosive?”
Arc nodded. “It’s generally used by the military. It’s the primary component of C4. Why? Does she have some?”
Harv shrugged. “Maybe. I would venture to say yes. She only briefly touched on it with her thoughts when you mentioned weapons. Tough read.”
“Speaking of weapons.” Arc flipped open his notebook. “At work I found some matches to the serial number on the HU-7 from Buttercup’s place. It’s from Gryphon Empire stocks, and was probably transferred to Al-Nestra. I haven’t figured out how it ended up here, though.”
“I wasn’t aware of any other connections to terrorists like Al-Nestra,” Proficient pondered. “I wonder if Buttercup was working with them or if the missile simply passed through her hooves.”
“More importantly,” said Harv, “We now have to worry about the possibility of terrorists here in San Palomino.”
“Al-Nestra is caught up in the conflict between Minos and the Gryphon Empire,” Proficient speculated. “Could they try something in an attempt to influence us?”
“An attack to warn us to mind our own business or perhaps a false flag to pin the blame on their enemies is not outside their capabilities,” Arc said.
The three of them were quiet for a moment at the ramifications of what they had discovered. Market came back just then, appearing slightly winded after dealing with Buttercup. She looked at the expressions the three of them wore and asked, “Who died?”
“With luck, no one,” replied Proficient. “Thank you for letting us meet with Ms. Buttercup. We should be going now.”
They got on the elevator and took it down.
Simultaneously, a few blocks away, Roxy was ascending the narrow staircase at the back of the library.
She had finished paging through the book Spike had lent her and had returned to see if he had found any new material.
The dragon was sorting a few books when she appeared, but he quickly put on a smile and greeted her. “Good to see you again.”
“Hello. I’m finished with this.” Roxy took the old book out of her purse and hoofed it over. Spike glanced at it before passing it off to a breezie to reshelve.
“Did you find anything else that could help me?” Roxy asked.
“I’m afraid not, however a contact of mine in Haycago has something that might help.” Spike paused briefly in recollection. “It should arrive within a few days.”
“Thank you. Could you call me when it comes in?”
“Sure. Gray could find your number in our records,” Spike replied. He didn’t not appear to notice the slight annoyed expression that Roxy quickly hid. He asked, “Was the book you returned helpful?”
Roxy nodded. “It was a little light on information about Loonies, but I picked up the basics. I was going to go talk to Buttercup after this to see if I could learn more.”
Spike frowned. “As I understand it, yesterday was the last day of her two-week honest period.”
“I know what changing feels like.” Roxy paused, then added, “She does have at least one good half.”
“Good luck.” Spike nodded to her.
Roxy smiled. “Thanks for the books. I’ll be back.”
She made her way down the stairs and emerged behind the librarian desk. She interrupted Gray, who had a mix of herbs arranged in a suspiciously arcane fashion. He jerked in surprise as she opened the door, scattering his procedure .
“Sorry.” Roxy stopped. “I hope that wasn’t too important.”
“Just a simple charm.” Gray swept his hoof over the ingredients and sighed. “I’ve been trying to learn a few things but it’s not going very well. Most ponies have a little magical ability even if they aren’t unicorns. They can at least understand basic spells or get goosebumps when a ghost passes nearby despite not realizing what they’re feeling. Some of the more gifted can throw around quite a bit of power. Me, I’ve got nothing. I can’t even fly that well. Spike says I’m like a magical black hole.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Roxy said.
Gray shrugged and forced an upbeat tone. “Spike theorizes that maybe it also means I’m less affected by harmful magic. I guess silver linings, right?”
“I suppose.” Roxy nodded to Gray and headed for the exit. Outside, she made the short flight to where Buttercup was being kept.
Market looked up from her desk as Roxy came in. “Busy day. Your husband was here earlier with some others.”
It was news to Roxy. “Oh? What did they talk about?”
“Arc was asking about the weapons.” Market shrugged. “They might have gotten the information they came for.”
“I’d like to speak with Buttercup again,” Roxy said.
Market nodded and got up. “All right, I’ll bring her. Go wait in the interrogation room.”
The two of them left the office. Roxy had her thoughts to occupy her as waited for Buttercup to appear. It was a little strange knowing the mare she had met the previous day would effectively be a different pony now. While she waited, she took a seat.
Market’s steady hoofsteps and Buttercup’s dragging ones came down the hallway. The two of them came through the door.
Buttercup looked terrible. It wasn’t just her careless hair, wrinkled feathers, or the hoofcuffs. She wore an expression that was part anger, part spite, and all unfriendly.
Market pushed her forward, aiming to put Buttercup in the chair on the other side of the table from Roxy. Buttercup suddenly sidestepped and threw up her hooves, projecting a small burst of sparks into Market’s face with a pop.
Twisting out of reach as Market flinched back, Buttercup kicked her in the torso and sent her to the floor. Roxy had already started to get up, but Buttercup jumped across the table and knocked her backwards.
Roxy got her hooves up to protect her face, but Buttercup bore down on her neck with the hobble chain. Kicking, Roxy rolled to the side, her wings pressing hard against the floor and managing to create some space between the two of them. It was enough for a swift hoof to Buttercup’s stomach, which Roxy followed by throwing her hind legs over Buttercup and reversing their positions on the floor.
Buttercup threw the hoofcuffs up, but Roxy ducked her head and caught the blow on her cheekbone rather than her neck again. Her lips pulled back at the pain, but her teeth were bared in offense. Her hooves found Buttercup’s throat as a growl began to rumble in her own.
Market’s hoof came down on Roxy’s shoulder and pulled her back. Buttercup gasped as Roxy’s hooves came away from her airway. Market rolled Buttercup over and put a knee in her back to keep her down.
“Are you okay?” Market asked, sparing a glance for Roxy.
Roxy touched her face. “Maybe.”
Market got up and took Buttercup’s bridle lead in her teeth, dragging the uncooperative inmate back to her cell.
“Come back and see me again!” called Buttercup, straining at her bonds. “We’re just getting started! Maybe you’ll finally learn something!”
It bothered Roxy how her comments to Buttercup’s other half about trying to understand her condition had been so twisted by her evil side. She also realized that whatever the good Buttercup knew, the evil one could exploit.
Roxy had picked herself up and straightened her feathers by the time Market returned. She peered at Roxy’s cheekbone. “I think you’ll be okay, although that looks like a bruise coming.”
“What made her do that?” Roxy wondered. “Did she do anything like that when Arc was here?”
Market shook her head. “No, I think she didn’t want to face three stallions and me. With just the two of us she might have thought she had a chance. I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I didn’t see her little trick coming.”
Roxy remembered the small display Buttercup had fabricated, like a magic firecracker. Apparently she was a Loony who also had some magical ability. That seemed like a terrible combination.
“I suppose we’re lucky that you had a few tricks up your sleeve, too,” Market said. “You shrugged off that smack to the face like it was nothing.”
“It didn’t feel like nothing.” Roxy moved her hoof to touch her injury again but decided against it.
Market shook her head. “I’m going to be more careful next time. Why don’t you come back on another day? For now, just go home to your husband.”
Even if she was arguably the stronger of the two, the comfort of being close to Arc sounded very soothing. Roxy said goodbye and went downstairs. Arc would be worried about her, as well he should be. Roxy was not used to feeling vulnerable, but she had somepony to turn to.
Her mood had improved by the time she stepped out of the building. Flapping her wings to clear the sidewalk, Roxy turned to go back to where she had parked. Gaining altitude and having a look above the nearby building, Roxy looked west and a column of black smoke caught her attention.
In the distance, the faint howls of emergency sirens carried through the air. Roxy came to a stop, staring, as a very bad feeling took hold of her. She turned, and with a beat of her wings flew off at top speed.