Attorney for the Damned
It had been a soda pop day.
Aaron flopped down on the couch in his den, fairly exhausted after today's activities. Magically summoning a glass, he filled it with a fizzy bottle of root beer imported from Equestria. Some parts of the day had been stressful, like Lyra's apparent mishap in court. But other parts had been rather pleasing, like his surprise lunch date with his girlfriend. Girlfriend; the very word made his quiver with self satisfaction, and what a catch! She was smart, funny, good looking, had a great job, and most of all, she was just as interested in him as he was in her.
But most pleasing to him had been his lessons today. He had expected that when he told Lisa to invite some friends that he would have maybe one or two other people show up wanting to learn a little magic. But no, a full two dozen eager students had been at the Singing Crystal's shrine tonight, and the progress they were showing was nothing short of astounding. A handful had already mastered the focus and willpower exercises, and now they were actually practicing rune scripting and alchemy in their spare time.
Hell, a few of them had been talking, saying that the group should become a little more organized than just a few people gathering to practice magic. They'd even started calling themselves something. Druids, like the Celtic spellcasters of ancient myth and lore. But the difference between those ancient druids and these modern ones, these ones actually could use magic. Well, it was sort of fitting. There were already groups in Taurassian that practiced very similar rites, and lo and behold they already called themselves druids. Kind of weird for minotaurs to worship nature spirits, but who's judging?
So his day had started out pretty crappy, not as crappy as Lyra's though, and finished off pretty good. It was...average in the end. Not quite stressful enough to warrant a couple of shots of hard liquor, but not good enough to celebrate and open up a bottle of wine. He wouldn't need a cup of coffee to stay up, but he wouldn't need a mug of tea to relax. And thus, it was a soda pop day.
But something was niggling at his mind. Well, not really his mind, something connected to his mind. It was a very difficult feeling to describe, but he felt that someone was being unnaturally quiet right now. Her thoughts felt distant, like they were focused elsewhere. She was planning something, probably up to no good.
...or ultimate good, whichever decided to come first. But there were always exceptions to the rule. Always.
Aaron sank back into the cushions of his couch, slugging down his hard earned end of the day beverage. "Wonder if Ann likes theater. Didn't someone say that Les Miserables was starting next week? They also said that tickets were outrageously overpriced. Who did I talk to about that?" he wondered to himself, enjoying this bit of truly free time. "Was it Eve? No, haven't seen her in three days. Maybe Ann told me about it? Oh crap, is this one of those subliminal messages that I'll end up in the doghouse if I don't do what she didn't directly say?"
He thought for moment back to his lovely little lunch out with his best gal. Even though the turkey club was amazing, and the weather had been just perfect, he could recall no message, subliminal or not, about seeing a play. He decided to be a gentleman, and he'd ask her out again tomorrow.
And just when he completely unwound from his day, sinking so deep into the cushions that his imprints would likely be preserved in the fossil record, he heard the front door open.
"Wait a minute, who the hell could that be? I thought Lyra was upstairs in her bedroom, crying her eyes out as usual."
He lurched from the couch, poking his head out the doorway. He barely caught the flicker of an aquamarine tail as it ducked into his office at the end of the hall.
Aaron fell back into the den, slapping a hand to his gaping mouth. "She's been out all day?! Jesus Christ, she coulda done something stupid out there in the city! I should never have taken my eyes off of her for a second! Christ, she could be suicidal right now!" He smacked himself on the forehead for not actually checking to see if the mare had been in her room.
And as he shook his head, a rank scent hit his nose. An acrid, oily smell of ashes mixed with spit. A smell he knew all too well from spending time around his uncle George back in the twenty-first century. Somebody nearby had been smokin' cigars. And he knew for a fact that Lyra was not a smoker.
******************************************************
Lyra panted slightly as she latched the office door behind herself. Turning to the ghostly orb floating over the desk, she sat down in the swiveling office chair.
"Why did we have to sneak in?" she whispered.
The loose soul peered over to the door, making sure it was latched good. "You neglected to mention that your roommate is a necromancer. I knew the moment I crossed the threshold you had one around."
"So he talks to dead people, so what?"
Clarence shivered in agitation. "Necromancers do talk to spirits, but only ones on the other side. Any free floating ghosts just seem to piss 'em off to no end. It's one of their odd little character flaws, if they see a wandering spirit, they feel compelled to deport it to the nearest soul well."
The mare raised an eyebrow in confusion. "But, I can just go back to the Crystal and summon you back."
"Not after being deported by a necromancer. I could be resummoned, but the necromancer's magic and will have a lasting effect, and bar the way to reentering this world for a long time, sometimes as long as a century. It's an adaptation to curb demon souls from escaping too often and causing chaos, but it's damn inconvenient for the rest of us. But, I must admit the boy did do something selfless for me, and indeed all mankind. So I have to give him that."
"You sure know a lot about souls and soul magic. But you died way before magic was ever around."
Clarence bobbed up and down, nodding to her assumption. "The day you stop learning is the day you die. And the day you die is the day you start re-learning everything you thought you knew. Now, let's do a little learning."
The spirit orb floated over to the bookcase, checking the spines of the books for any indicator of what was inside. The soul dove into the books, his incorporeal form passing through the matter of the books with ease. Lyra jumped when the soul popped out right in front of her muzzle, motioning over to the bottom shelf.
"Over there, in the corner. Grab the book labeled VII, green spine."
The unicorn pulled the inconspicuous looking tome out of its place, setting it on the desk and carefully cracking it open.
"Start reading," her ghostly lawyer commanded, diving back into the bookcase to begin his own enlightenment in the development of law since his demise.
Lyra cracked open the book, scanning through the reference table in the front. "They have an entire set of laws just for families? Jeez, humans love laws." And when she started reading through the thick volume, the more her mouth swept into a smile. Family law had been her salvation, not civil law! She'd been so stuck on the idea of this being a violation of her civil rights that she had overlooked the fact that it was a complete denial of her family rights.
A frantic knock at the door of the study startled her. Lyra looked up, and meekly called out, "Who is it?"
"You know damn well who it is! Lyra, open this door before I break it down!"
The ghostly orb popped out of the bookcase for a moment, then dove back in to hide itself. With her magic she quickly undid the lock, and Aaron stumbled in, downright terrified that Lyra might do something stupid.
"Jesus Christ, are you alright?! I swear I thought you were upstairs all day and-and I just got so worried!"
"I'm okay," she honestly replied, her voice carrying none of that melancholy that had been there since she arrived in Lazarus.
He stopped in the middle of a sentence. "Wait, you're...okay? How the hell is that possible? When you left the courthouse this morning I ran back here and locked up all the kitchen knives so you wouldn't hurt yourself! And now...you're fine?!" His eyes narrowed at her. "Where did you go today?"
She thought about it for a moment, then decided it was best to avoid suspicion and go simple. "I...I just went for a walk. Thought about how I've been so silly lately, being all depressed and such. Big emotional and mental check, that kind of thing."
"Nobody breaks out of a funk like that without either snapping or taking drugs." Mr Patterson turned to leave, but before he left, he took a deep whiff from the office. "And if I find out that it's you who's smoking cigars in my house, your little pony butt isn't allowed within fifty feet of my books."
The door closed behind him, and the ghost of Clarence Darrow materialized out of the bookcase. "That was too close of a shave. We may need to abandon this office in favor of safer climes."
"What do you mean? He didn't suspect a thing," Lyra rebutted.
The spirit openly scoffed. "He could smell me. His particular magic set is alert and aware that a wandering soul is nearby. His magic knows I'm here, but his conscious mind isn't aware. It's bombarding him with a scent that I wore often during my days, the smell of my favorite Cuban cigars. There's an interesting story that goes along with those cigars, I once hid a wire in one and smoked it in the middle of a defense argument. The ash couldn't fall no matter how much I jostled it, and the jury couldn't take their eyes off of it long enough to hear my defense."
The ghost chuckled at that little story, but he quickly regained himself. "Now, I've taken the liberty of reading all I can from your friend's law books. But there are a few things that you need to tell me before I can proceed with the best course of action."
Lyra's jaw fell slack, her eyes as wide as plates. "You read all of those books in ten minutes?! I'm only on page three of this book!"
"Hmm, reading takes on a different tone when you have no eyes and can pass through matter at will. As I was saying, you need to tell me what ever you can about this city's situation."
Lyra sat back in the swiveling chair, wondering where to start. She pondered long and hard, and eventually she decided to start with what little she knew about the end of the War.
"Well, I should say it all started about a year ago. I don't remember much, but I do know that Equestria's army and the human army faced off on a field not far from here. Nopony died, because my friend out there joined forces with one of the Princesses to ask for peace. And...it happened. Everypony laid down their arms, and we ponies withdrew our army. They both signed an agreement not to fight anymore, and once the army left, some ponies decided to stay and help them get back on their feet."
She told the story of the foundation of the Republic as much as she knew it, even grabbing a few books to help fill in her gaps. She told her lawyer about coming to the city, about all the wonderful and glorious sights she had seen. But whenever her eyes looked down from the glory and power of human might and technology, they always saw what got left behind in their desperate bid to prove their worth.
She regaled him with the story of the tour through the city, of the diamond dogs working in the steel mill and the pony shops being separate from the rest of the market. Her story pretty much skipped over Fort Greenewell, and she focused almost too long on the hospital in the Undercity. After that, she skipped ahead to her being kicked out of the bar, and the segregation by species that was so common in Lazarus. The story of her citizenship test came with a few nods from the specter, and her denial before Terran Social Services made him hum in thought.
After around two hours of doing nothing but talking in a hushed voice to her lawyer, she finally finished her story. "And after I went to the gazebo, that's where you got involved. And you know the rest."
Clarence stayed silent for several minutes, the orb drifting back and forth in front of the desk, pondering a proper course of action. His pacing ceased, and the fluorescent orb took on a greater glow. "I believe I have a plan. But first, you will need something crystalline. Do you perchance have a wedding band or a bracelet set with a gem?"
A wedding band. The words bit deep into Lyra's mind, and the barest hint of a tear shimmered in the corner of her eye. The ghost noticed her discomfort, and he tried to console her as best as he could without the enhancement of form. "I apologize. I temporarily forgot about the recent dissolution of your vows. But this is not something that we can see in court. The people of this nation need you to be strong, you need you to be strong! Now I need you to tell me, do you have some kind of gem that you can wear?"
Lyra thought for a moment, biting back the tears of regret and thinking about what she carried in her meager luggage. "I...I have some diamond earrings. I wore them at my....at my wedding. Why do you need my earrings?"
"Perfect, even better than I expected. I can use your jewelry as an anchor so that I can be present during your trial. And since it is conveniently on your ears, I can whisper to you during the hearings. More importantly around the household, I can use the jewels as a safe place to hide from the necromancer. Have you ever heard of the Hope Diamond?"
The mare shook her head. Certainly a jewel called the "Hope Diamond" had to be some kind of very important and very powerful gem that protected people like the Crystal Heart, the Elements of Harmony or even more recently the Singing Crystal.
Clarence shook himself, and Lyra could almost swear she saw a grimace within the illuminated depths of his energies. "Oh the Hope Diamond. Among souls, it's legendary for being a wanderer's paradise. A demon soul from points unknown took a shine to it and haunted it for nearly six hundred years. The bastard was frightfully territorial, and used his influence to hurt anyone that dared to touch his precious prize. The son of a bitch was finally deported by a pony necromancer fifty years after the War, and his little reign of terror ended. The point of this little tale is that like the fellow who inhabited that gem, I can haunt your earrings and use them to stay stable indefinitely."
Lyra nodded. "I'll get them back in right before bed. What's the next step?"
The orb resumed his stepless pacing in front of the desk. "Step two is going to take almost the entire trial. It's an ongoing event that you must keep going. Step two is to make some friends."
"What? Make friends? How is going out for drinks with my pals going to help my case?"
Clarence laughed out loud, and he explained, "In court and politics, that kind of friend is only a pipe dream for retirement! I mean supporters, sympathizers, politicians, media, reporters! If what you say is right, this case is completely under the table, nobody who could help you knows that you even exist. We have to get this story out to the public, we have to see where the people stand on this issue, not just nine Justices. You said that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of your oppressed countrymen in this city and in this country. We need to get them to fight for their rights alongside you. Once voice can be silenced with little quarrel, but ten thousand cannot be ignored so easily! And step three, step three is to get into the minds of the Justices, I want dossiers on each one of them! Personal backgrounds, political and religious affiliations, who supports them, who's in their pockets, and whose pockets they're in. Hell, if one Justice likes to drink Earl Grey Tea before each hearing, I want to know about it."
He ceased his endless pacing, zipping over to rest right by her muzzle. "Lyra, you didn't sue the nation of Terra. You didn't stand up for rights that are being denied, you picked a fight with the biggest boy on the block. And like a fool you rushed in headfirst, hoping that your opponent wouldn't knock you out with his best moves. You got lucky the first time, and you survived with everything but your nerves intact. Well, now it's round two, and we're going to treat this like what it is, a fight to the finish. So, we're going to find you some friends to stand behind you, then we're going to train you on what your opponent's weak points are. And just when the brass bell rings, we'll hit him with our best shot! And when we find some people with the gumption and the guts to stand behind our cause, then we'll go into step four."
Clarence backed away from Lyra, shivering with anticipation of this grand and glorious plan that he had coming together. And if it was executed down to the letter, it would turn heads all over the Terra, Equestria, Kali'Gryph and parts unknown all across the world. "What is today?"
Lyra quickly checked a little calendar on the desk. "Thursday."
"Then we have court tomorrow. After that, we take the weekend to enact our plan. But for now, we read." The ghostly orb flickered over to another bookshelf, and bobbed there for a second. "You will need to read this one as well."
Her golden magical glow grasped the book from the shelf and placed it gingerly on the desk. "Psychology?" Her shoulders drooped, and Lyra propped up her cheek with a hoof. "Let me guess, I have to get inside the human mind?"
"More than you can imagine, madam. And this one too." He motioned to another book on the shelf, one labeled: The 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement.
**************************************************************
Morning in Lazarus, and Lyra prepared herself like she was going five rounds with Brawny Hooves, Manehattan's most famous prizefighter and equine pugilist. The alarm next to her bed rang early, and her hoof slammed down on it before it could finish its first round. Hopping out of bed, she immediately started stretching out.
Downstairs at the breakfast table, she shoveled food into her mouth with a vigor she had lacked for so long. Dumping a glass of milk down her gullet, her host and temporary roommate walked in with the morning paper hot off the presses.
"Woah there, slow it down or there won't be any left for me."
Swallowing half of an apple whole, she barely took the time to look at him between reading the pages of a family law book and forcing down the mountain of food on her plate. "Can't talk, busy."
Aaron snatched a bagel from her pile, taking a bite as he sat down across from her. "So, working on your game plan?"
"You could say that. I've actually got an argument now, with valid applicable points." Her hoof raised up to scratch at her ear, where her diamond earrings sat in freshly made pinpricks.
"When did you start wearing jewelry?" he asked.
"This morning. It helps with self image and confidence," she replied, innocently covering up the fact that she had a damned attorney haunting her left earring.
"Don't draw attention to it, pretend as though you wear proper ladylike accouterments all the time," her secret lawyer whispered to her ear.
Aaron leaned back in his chair, unfolding the Lazarus Phoenix and checking out the top stories of the day. "So, do you need me to walk you down to the courthouse today?" he asked with a tone like a parent talking to a school aged child.
"No thanks, I've got everything under control today," she replied sweetly, honestly flattered and glad that he would offer.
He peered over the edge of the paper, raising an eyebrow. Without further questions, he accepted her choice and shrugged it off. "M'kay." He looked back down at the paper and went silent, his only noise being the crunch of the bagel in his hand.
With her breakfast finished and some odd semblance of her old self regained, Lyra grabbed her books and her papers, setting a course for the courthouse just across the suburbs.
***************************************************
The setting was the same as the day before. The courthouse lay almost entirely empty, with the gallery most derelict than a ghost town and the only people present being the nine Justices, a bailiff/chaplain to open the proceedings, Mr Bennett at his table, and Lyra lugging her heavy saddlebags over to her own table.
Little did anyone in that courtroom know except the lone pony that another person was present, though only present in spirit. The ghost of Clarence Darrow peeked out from his anchor in the mare's earring, taking in his surroundings with a grimace of some small degree of disgust. In his time he had defended the rights of the most damned souls in the highest courts of the most powerful nation in the world. Cities whose grandeur was only surpassed by ancient Rome and Athens in her prime had been his stomping grounds. The marble columns, the rosewood benches and statutes of blind justice; symbols of order and power that this dilapidated little shanty of a "courthouse" lacked. It wasn't the finest place to hold a hearing, but it sure as hell wasn't the worst place he had ever attended one. He could have shuddered as he remembered the Dayton courthouse in Tennessee.
Damn that William Jennings Bryant, that trial wasn't even about John Scopes or the idea that he taught evolution after the first day! It had all boiled down to the social divide between the modernist Christians and the traditionalist Christians, (no such thing as a declared atheist back then). Social divides, always making trouble. Just like this trial, it would probably start just like the Scopes Trial and focus on the actual petitioned issue, then drift off on some tangent as both the petitioner and respondent ran out of steam.
Clarence quickly banished his reminiscence of the Scopes-Monkey Trial, peering out of the crystal facets of his bejeweled camouflage. By the easy swagger in his step and the way his confident smile seemed to make Lyra go on edge, Clarence guessed this man to be the respondent representative and Attorney General that Lyra had been talking about last night. Bennett, yeah that was his name.
Bennett sipped from his ever present coffee mug, leaning on the corner of Lyra's desk as she spread out her borrowed books and papers.
"So Heartstrings, I went down to the community center yesterday afternoon. Attended a very informative seminar on the Heimlich Maneuver. You know, just in case you start choking again today." He chuckled to himself, taking a sip from his mug.
Clarence could have laughed inside of the diamond earring, whispering to Lyra, "Don't take it too personally, it's just offense-defense banter. He's testing you right now to see how confident and prepared you are. Classic move, even Cicero of Rome did it in his trials. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book. Say something snarky back."
Lyra quickly tried to think of a comeback. She didn't know what in the world the Heimlich Maneuver was, but by context she guessed it to be similar to the Hooflick Procedure. "David, you're such a sweet and intelligent person for being so thoughtful about my safety. Oh wait, I thought this was a lying contest. Nothing personal," she finished, giving him a recalcitrant smirk.
Bennett took a step back, mildly surprised at the complete turn around from yesterday. He had figured yesterday when he left the courthouse that Lyra wouldn't even show up today, and the only thing that would be left of her was a couple aquamarine hairs and a bad memory.
Without another word Bennett retreated to his stand, shifting his papers around and stealing glances over at Lyra, wondering what surprises she was hiding up her sleeves.
The bailiff cleared his throat. "All rise for the honorable Justices of the Supreme Court of the Republic of Terra."
Just like yesterday, the nine Justices filed in from a backroom, taking their respective spots along the stand. Once seated, the bailiff called, "Be seated. God save the Republic of Terra and this honorable court. May he bless us with swift, righteous judgement." The bailiff took his own spot in the corner, and Chief Justice Haliburton drew out her docket.
"We will continue to hear argument this morning in case No. 1 of the Terran Judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings against the Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstrings, you may begin."
Lyra rose from her seat, levitating a few papers along with her. "Thank you, Madam Chief Justice," she said boldly.
Almost immediately she noticed a vast difference between their reactions today and their original take on her. The day before the Justices had loomed over their stand with scrutiny and disapproval, judging her every actions. But today her bold declaration and the swagger in her step seemed to pique their curiosity, and more than one Justice actually leaned forward, somewhat eager to hear what she had to say.
Clearing her throat, she leapt straight into her argument. "I apologize for my exemplary evidence yesterday, at the time I did not have quite the resources to form a proper case. But today, I come before the court with definitive evidence and precedence to prove that Republic Social Services were beyond their rights when denying me the right to adopt a child simply because of my heritage."
She levitated a hefty book from the desk, flipping through the pages to find her mark. "If it pleases the court, I would like to present the Multiethnic Placement Act of 1994. I will henceforth refer to this as "MEPA". From my understanding, MEPA was voted into place by American lawmakers to curtail the length that children spent in foster care and orphanages by opening up new possibilities to which a child might find a suitable home. This act prohibits an agency from denying adoptive or foster care placements because of a child or adoptive parent's national origin, color, or more relevant to my case, race. And what's more, MEPA prohibits race, color, or national origin as a basis for denying approval of a foster or adoptive parent."
"Good, that's good. Just like we practiced," Clarence whispered to her ear. Clearly the Justices thought so as well. Justice Brockmann was bent over his notes, giving slight nods. Justice Nakamura and Justice Rutherford whispered back and forth, and Chief Justice Haliburton remained stoic as usual.
Lyra stopped pacing in front of the Justices, placing her book back on her desk. "I submit to the court that my denial of adoptive care was based solely on my race and national origin. A clear violation of my rights as a Terran citizen and a violation of my basic civil rights as a person. To deny this privilege, no this right is to proclaim that I as a pony am not a person. And by allowing me to become a citizen, by allying yourselves with the nation of Equestria, the Republic of Terra has made an official proclamation declaring that you recognize us ponies as people!"
Justice Sikes interrupted her with a statement. "Mrs Heartstrings, the good book declares that Man alone is capable of becoming a thinking person. Most of the people of this nation subscribe to a Christian theology, and your assertion that all people of this country must recognize you as a person is flawed. It's the individual's choice to recognize another person, not the state at large. As of yet, there has been no legal declaration of your claim. And furthermore, that law applies to ethnic differences between human beings! There is no legal precedent to say that a pony such as yourself is to be considered an ethnicity."
"And so we find the bad apple," Clarence murmured to Lyra.
Lyra narrowed her eyes at Justice Sikes, taking a seat behind her desk. "Petitioner rests for the duration."
"Very well," said Chief Justice Haliburton. "Respondent, you may begin your argument."
Mr Bennett rose from his seat, and despite the extremely valid evidence presented, he still looked calm and cool.
"I would like to begin by applauding Mrs Heartstrings on a well delivered and well studied argument. Indeed, the MEPA doctrine of 1994 was made law to expedite the process of adoption and make sure no child was left too long without a family and a home. Now, it is underneath us as people to question whether Mrs Heartstrings is a person or not. As a personal belief, I welcome the thought that these fine and exemplary creatures are people in their own right. But the law is not so lax, and as I recall, MEPA was not accepted by popular society like lawmakers believed it would. It was African American social workers who were the major proponents of repealing this law, saying that it threatened to distort and ultimately deprive a child of their heritage. African American children would not know their race's struggles as their own, Hispanic children would not appreciate the depth of their culture. And thus I say that we as human beings must not think along lines of creed, but we must think along the lines of protecting our culture and heritage! Any human child that is removed from the body of the human populace is bound to think of themselves as more of a pony than a human. It's the dilution of our racial identity that is the true threat to the Republic and indeed the human race as a whole! If that child is placed into pony hands, we lose her as a human being. The pony race may gain a two legged pony, but we lose a daughter of mankind."
At that point, the divide among the Justices had never been clearer. Those who had accepted Lyra's argument due to precedent stayed silent throughout Bennett's response. And those who had supported Bennett lightly nodded their heads and whispered between each other.
But Bennett was far from finished.
"Let it not be forgotten that it is not only the child's identity and morals that are at question, it is her health and well being that are the primary focus! Although I personally recognize Mrs Heartstrings as a person, she is still a horse. A species which is far removed from the human race on the family tree. And though this is true, any man or woman in this city that has handled or farmed horses in the old days can tell you that disease between our species is incredibly common."
Bennett whipped out a paper from his attache case, reading it by rote. "Brucellosis, leptospirosis, Lyme disease, anthrax." He said that last word with dreadful emphasis, knowing the cords of fear it would strike in any person that would hear it. "These are all diseases that can be common in equines. Mind you, these diseases are often deadly to children and young adults, and I don't need to tell you about the deadly potential of an anthrax infection in a child."
And indeed he did not have to press the point. Late in the year 2016, during the breakout war between Iran and Israel, it had been all too common to hear on the evening news about teams of black operations soldiers breaking into secret labs and destroying entire strains of weaponized anthrax. And to hear that this deadly pathogen was common among ponies was terrifying to some of the Justices. Justice Dailey eyed Lyra with a small amount of repulsion and disgust.
Lyra threatened to boil over. None of those diseases had ever been reported in Ponyville, the town had a health record cleaner than the rest of Equestria! Well, except for that food poisoning scare that happened that one time when Applejack made those muffins. But she couldn't remember the last time anypony had ever reported a case of anthrax. In fact, one of the things that earth ponies did when breaking new ground for fields or building was to spread lime and ashes everywhere to kill the toxic pathogen.
"I object to that!" Lyra shouted.
Clarence immediately started screaming in her ear, "You don't object in a Supreme Court hearing! He's playing dirty, but we can play dirty too. So just calm down, and let him finish!"
The Justices stared at Lyra, glaring at her. Her face flushed red, and she sat down, withdrawing into a tiny little ball. Several minutes and no outbursts later, it ended. Bennett reached the limit of his argument, and the Justices withdrew for the day.
Walking down the street, Lyra could almost feel the scorn coming from her left ear.
"Let me tell you this right now so I don't have to repeat it, we do not have outbursts in court! An outburst by either party will drive away the people you need on your side!"
"But he was saying a bunch of crock! Nopony in Equestria has any kind of disease like that! And I sure as heck wouldn't make that little girl forget her heritage! I'd never raise her as anything but a human!" Lyra replied, venting her frustration on Clarence.
"Then we say that on the next appointed trial day! Or, we could go back to the house, do our research and prove it at the next hearing. Or even better, we get some expert to say it for us. Once we find some sympathizers, we'll get some subpoenas written and hopefully get some professional opinions on our side. Nothing sways a jury or a judge like the word straight from the horse's mouth."
"What? But I already said that stuff!"
Clarence stopped himself to explain, but quickly caught on to his own pun. "Right, horse, I forgot for a moment. Anyways, Bennett is using cheap scare tactics to get his way. It's not unethical, but it is frowned upon heavily by the true professionals. But we can counter that, we can show that we are the bigger man by using less coercive arguments and getting actual proof. If I didn't know any better, I would say Bennett has some kind of a deal with the Justices. Did you notice how they didn't ask a single question during his argument?"
"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we can raise that as an accusation?" Lyra wondered. It was true, the entire time Bennett had been prattling on with his rebuttal, he hadn't backed up a single word of his response, nor allowed the Justices any time to ask questions. With his germ scare, he had completely silenced the Justices. And the thought that Lyra would stop that child from learning about her heritage and embracing her humanity must have been downright enraging.
"Damn Bennett's good!" she snarled in frustration.
"He's a greasy, bottom feeding, scare tactics using, sophistry spewing, rhetoric poet, snake in the grass who could charm the pants off of a nun. All qualities of a despicable human being, but a damn fine lawyer. If I ever elected to not represent myself, I would look for a man like Bennett. But Bennett is not the enemy here. Remember Mrs Heartstrings, it's the Republic who we're fighting toe to toe here, and the Republic just found itself good back up early on. So what we have to do is redouble our efforts on researching precedent while finding our own back up."
Lyra sighed in mental exhaustion when she crossed the threshold of her temporary house. Dropping off her saddlebags unceremoniously at the door, she trotted into the kitchen, fetched a soda and crashed on the couch in the den. Taking a sweet sip of orange soda, she sighed loudly. "So, now that we're actually saying stuff that applies in court, what's the next step in your diabolical plan for world domination? How do I 'find my friends'?"
The spirit of Clarence zipped out of her earring, meandering over to the liquor cabinet and passing through a bottle of scotch, wishing he could taste it. "Even though his clout and expertise makes the necromancer the most obvious first choice, from what you say he is completely distanced from the political procedure. We'll have to pass him by."
Lyra rolled her eyes, thinking about her only real friend in this city being completely inaccessible. Hell, with his shining character reference for the pony race, his irrefutable scientific knowledge and high political standing, the trial could be over today. "He has a name you know. His whole life doesn't revolve around talking to the dead."
Clarence flickered from a dazzling white to a shade of annoyed red. "Since Aaron can't help us, we're going to have to start low. Dig down deep on the societal totem pole to the disgruntled and disenfranchised workers that keep this country afloat and rattle their cages. Tonight when all the factories and shops close, you're going out for a night on the town. Find anyone who is just as disgruntled about the situation of this city as you, and recruit them to your cause. Did you read that book on the Civil Rights Movement?"
Lyra leaned back in the couch, taking a sip of her soda. "I got to about the part when the "negroes" started boycotting businesses. By the way, what's a "negro"?"
Clarence wondered how to explain it in polite terminology. "You've seen Justice Brockmann?"
"Yeah, he's the dark man. Are there other colors of humans? 'Cause I've only seen pink ones and a few tan ones. I've been wondering why you guys aren't so colorful. I mean, ponies run the entire rainbow, and gryphons and minotaurs can have lots of colors. But then I figured that sleeping underground for so long must've done something to your colors, like some creatures that live under logs. What color were you?"
Clarence had to wonder what the hell was in that orange soda, because right now Lyra was acting like a drunk philosopher and asking some very racy questions. "Back in my later years of living, many would have called Justice Brockmann a negro. A negro is an outdated term that is typically used in a derogatory manner. Back in my days, being a negro meant that certain people in society looked down on you for the simple reason that your skin was dark. Humans in general aren't a very colorful people, we're limited to anywhere between extremely pale to very dark brown. No really bright skins out there. I myself was considered "white", as is the necr-...as is Aaron. And back in the old days, the black communities suffered through social obstacles very similar to what your people are going through in this country."
The ghost settled on the couch next to Lyra, wishing to the greater spirits that he could light up a thick Cuban cigar and relax with his client. "You know, the blacks had it much worse. They couldn't look another man in the eye without risking their own lives." He fell silent, his mind only focused on one event in his past. Ossian Sweet, claiming before a jury of his "peers" that he only acted in self defense when he shot into that angry mob of white folks, folks that were at his home with the intent to harm his family and drive them out of their "pure" white neighborhood. He killed a man who had beaten on his door, screaming that he would murder everyone inside.
And Clarence defended him, saying that Ossian, his family and the friends he had brought over to defend their home were simply afraid for their lives. In the end, Clarence had succeeded in an acquittal. But it never cleared the fact that Ossian Sweet was the one on trial, and not one of the murderous men who came to kill him that night ever saw a minute of jail time. The prejudice and racism of the times would ensure that the only people to ever pay for that crime were Ossian Sweet and his whole family.
And for the sake of Lyra, and for her people, and even for the sake of the tiny granule that was left of mankind, he hoped that the little bit of soul mending that Aaron had done would keep the humans of this city from repeating their history. He hoped that people wouldn't find some excuse to try and evict those creatures. Or even worse, he prayed silently to the greater forces of the universe that no person in this city got an itch to tie a hangman's knot.
************************************************************************
It had been a dreary night at The Watering Hole.
The ponies and other creatures that bothered to spend their hard earned bits and dollars to call themselves patrons silently sipped down their various beverages. There was never a song to be sung, nor any boisterous laughter at some joke. Everypony was always too exhausted or too down beat to even try. Just like last night, and every night before that.
The Watering Hole wasn't some place to go and relax and knock back a cold one like Abraham's, nor was it a dignified communal hall like the officer's club in Fort Greenewell. But you could get a drink here, if you weren't too stingy about quality or the company.
High Spirits ran his ratty bar rag down the length of the bar, just to pass the time. And as always, the rag only succeeded in smearing the dirt and grinding it deeper into the grain of the wood. The barkeeper sighed, tossing his faithful rag over his shoulder and waiting to serve a drink to somepony if they had the thirst.
The few ponies sitting in the barstools might as well have been statues, staring blankly off into an unknown distance, only occasionally breaking their statuesque silence to take a sip of beer. High Spirits shuddered, even though this place was practically full almost every night, it might as well have been a ghost town. Well, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. Certainly a ghost town had more life than this place.
If somepony had come up to him a year ago, back when he was waiting tables at an establishment in Appaloosa, and said that he was going to be serving drinks in a ramshackle place like this, he would have laughed. But when these humans literally sprang out of the ground, he'd been among the first to hear those rumors that they needed just about everything. And in his book, liquor and a place to drink it in were a part of everything. And besides the rumors of opportunity, he'd heard the rumors from the returning soldiers that the humans did things very different from Equestria. They didn't have immortal leaders, kings, or nobility who always had the "wisest" and final say on any issue that came before them. No, they voted for a leader. And whenever they wanted a law instated, they voted for that too. Tax increase? Vote for it. New possible design for a road sign? Vote for it. Repeal a law that seemed like a good idea at the time? Votedy vote-vote. They voted for just about everything.
It was the rumors of a fair and righteous democracy that had ultimately lured High Spirits out of Equestria and into the Republic as a part of the first wave of pony immigrants. To be an actual part of the political process, to have his voice heard in a government built by the people. And now, a year later, he found those rumors of a system of equal government to be just that, rumors.
"Only fair to the humans," the barkeeper muttered under his breath. He resigned himself to scrubbing off the smudges on the bar again, only smearing them even further.
And then she came in.
The door to the bar swung wide open, and a unicorn mare walked into the establishment. But instantly the barkeep focused on her. It was that mare from a few days ago, that fiery spirited girl who had been denied the right to adopt a human baby. The one who had paid for a drink, then stormed out saying she was going to do something about the humans. And instantly she turned heads all over the bar. She walked tall, with a determined look on her face. Her step was sure, and she wasn't dragging her hooves on the floor like anypony else that came in.
Taking a stool at the bar, the mare sat down and looked around.
"Er, what can I get ya, m'am?" the bartender asked.
The mare turned her attention to him. "I need a beer, a shot of whiskey, and a few good ponies."
"Well," High Spirits answered, "I can do the first two, but I don't even want to know why a young lady like yourself is looking for 'a few good ponies'."
The mare huffed, turning back to the bar patrons. "Listen up everypony!" she shouted to the stoic crowd. All eyes raised up from their glasses, wondering who dared to break their meditative melancholy. "My name is Lyra Heartstrings. None of you may know my name, but that's not important right now. A few days ago, I tried to adopt a human child out of the goodness of my heart. And I was denied that right! That day, I came into this place and saw that I wasn't the only one being oppressed because of who I was. And that night, I swore that I would do something to change that."
The permeating stoicism began to melt into curiosity, and more than one creature leaned intently towards Lyra, wondering where she was going with this.
"And you know what?" she continued. She had their attention now, and now was the time to execute step two of Clarence's grand plan. "I did something about it. I didn't sit there and drink myself stupid. I didn't whine about how things were unfair in this country. I took action, and I sued the Republic of Terra for my rights!"
This set the whole room to awe, and whispers floated between the bar patrons. One lone mare, daring to stand up against the moral and intellectual might of the most ancient civilization in the world? She's crazy, some whispered. She's a brave pony, others said. Most thought that she was a mixture of both the former and the latter.
Lyra drank down her shot of whiskey, needing to fortify herself for what came next. "I may have stood up for my rights, but I can't do it alone. I need as many people to stand up for theirs as I can get. I need people to stand up and show that we are people to be reckoned with! I need all the voices I can get. So, who's with me? Which one of you has the guts to stand up and say, "I deserve better than this"?"
All across the crowd, many lost any courage that they had been holding on to, and meekly turned back to look down at the table again. No, there couldn't be any courage to stand up, because they would be in the wrong. Their races had done the ultimate injustice to humanity, and the humans seemed content to regularly remind them of that fact. Having the courage to stand up would simply deepen the wounds that they had rent over two thousand years ago.
But when courage failed, sometimes it was bullheaded stubbornness that prevailed. And of all the races that seemed to be the most stubborn and immovable in that bar, it was the tough and tenacious diamond dogs, worn down to the edge of their minds and hearts when all they had left was their wills. And among them, one stood up.
A dog with the pointed face and sandy coat of a coyote stood up. "I deserve better than this," the dog said, holding a paw to his sheenless and filthy coat.
And with the ice broken by the brave and stubborn dog, a pony stood from her seat. The same pegasus mare from the night when Lyra had been denied her rights. "I deserve better than this," she declared.
"I deserve better than this," a voice behind Lyra said. Spinning around, she spied a look of determination in the barkeeper's eye.
Out of a crowd of nearly a hundred, only three stood up to stand beside her. But it was three people she had on her side.
Lyra nodded to her three supporters. "Good. Now, I want to discuss something with you. Something that could drastically change the Republic for everybody."
Taking a table in the corner, Lyra sat down with the seeds of her growing movement, telling them what was wrong with the legal system of the Republic, and what they could do as citizens to fix it.
And when the clock struck midnight, and all the other patrons had left, Lyra decided it was time to leave as well. There was no court tomorrow, but there were plans to enact, and Clarence had once again decreed that Lyra would use tomorrow to study.
She learned the names of her supporters, and what they did. Honey Cup, the pegasus mare, was of course an actress, denied the right to perform her art in human theatre. With the ghost of her lawyer still in her ear, he could make the proper assesment and assign each one to where they would need to be. Since her voice and her presence was her greatest asset, Honey would be using it more than anypony else. High Spirits was the local barkeeper that catered to all races in Lazarus, his establishment would make a good base of operations for the movement. The diamond dog was Foxtrot, a steelworker that ranked fairly high in the hierarchy of the Stoneclaw pack. And from what Clarence kept whispering to her, Foxtrot and his dogs were going to be key parts in this movement.
Of course, before they all departed to go their separate ways, they agreed to meet in secret again later that week to develop their plan of action further. And one last thing had to be done. Lyra dictated a letter, written anonymously by High Spirits. Two of them would be sent out to the two places that needed to be informed the quickest for their plan to work.
And when they left, Honey Cup took one letter and slid it under the door of the offices of the Lazarus Phoenix, flitting away to avoid being seen at this time of night. And when she passed it by on the way back to Aaron's house, Lyra slipped the second letter under the door of the door of Ed Burns and Lisa Eddin, the radio hosts of Lazarus Public Radio.
**************************************************
That morning, the two radio hosts shuffled out of their bedrooms, taking their spots at the breakfast table. It was still pre-dawn, and they were waiting for their newest associate to show up so they could begin the morning block of radio.
Aaron had been right, their shows had been much better after they hired Melody Medley. Her worldly experience combined with a quick to joke attitude, extremely quick learning, and exceptionally smooth voice made for a perfect jockey. And Lisa found a fast friend in the spunky pegasus mare. Of course with two girls at the helm, Ed was starting to feel a bit outnumbered (which only made the comedy elements even funnier).
"Hey hey hey! What's the news, my dudes?" the mare greeted as she practically bashed in the front door. Somehow she always had energy to spare at any time of the day. Perhaps it was that mind boggling pegasus metabolism, maybe it was all the sugar she slipped into her coffee. But no matter the cause, Melody was always on top of her game.
"Morning Mel," Lisa rasped, still too exhausted to match the mare's energy.
The blue coated mare slipped into a chair, swiping a slice of toast with her wing and the entire jar of jam. "So what's the agenda? Hear any choice bits of info that might catch a few ratings? Eddie, come on baby, give me something to work with!"
"Jeez Mel, simmer down. We've got half an hour until we start up the show, I think we've got some time to think."
The table quieted down, and Mel suddenly remembered something. "Hey guys, I think the mail carrier's gettin' a bit lazy. Left this on your doorstep." She flicked out the letter she had found on the stoop, tossing it over to Ed.
Ed grunted a thanks as he tore it open, expecting some bill or the first piece of junk mail in over two millenia. His fatigue melted away almost instantly, and his eyes only got wider as he kept reading. "This has got to be a prank," he said to himself.
But the more he read, the less likely that seemed. Pranks could usually be seen through, they were always along some lines of being some horrendous disaster or complete Onion style satire. But this, this was so outlandish that it would have taken a professional fiction writer on drugs to conjure up.
"Lisa, Mel, do either of you have any experience in politics?"
Mel scoffed at the assertion, she'd been a comedian in her early career, and a columnist ranter for some smaller newspaper before she immigrated out west. But Lisa nodded. "Well, I did investigative reporting back in college a couple of times. Sometimes I did reports on city governments and student councils."
"Then you're on this." He passed the letter over to Lisa who read it with Mel.
"Ed, what in god's name is this?" she asked after reading the opening lines.
The radio host flashed a triumphant grin. "Our biggest scoop yet."
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1976139 And to think, I passed up the opportunity to write an adventure story about minotaurs to do this.
The hell was I thinking?
1976608 It's hard to find a pic of Lyra that applied and wasn't R34.
And the minotaur story... it would have been godly awesome. So awesome that Kratos would have been out of his league. If I had a story I wanted to submit to EqD, it would have been that one.
1976668 "Come on Klondike! Write the awesome adventure story about minotaurs!"- Schizo Klondike
"I don't know, maybe I should write that one about Lyra that I was thinking about at work. You know, we need to expand on the War of the Fallen Race universe, and people wanted to see greater depth in that area."- Regular Klondike
"Fuck those guys! You're an adventure writer, dumbass! Stick to what you know! Your crappy little tryst into drama and politics ain't gonna be worth jack shit!"
"You're a very angry little side of my conscious thoughts, aren't you?"
"That's beside the point! Or how about that other culture feature you were thinking about the other day? The one with the pack of diamond dogs traveling through the dangerous underground caverns of Equestria, seeking to reclaim a lost dog city and the powerful magical artifact with it? Eh? Eh?"
"Oooohhhh, that was a good idea. But I already published the first chapter of the Lyra story!"
"Oh my freaking GOD!
You. Are. A. Dumbass. You're way in over your head now. And you didn't even freaking tell me!"
"Not tell you?! It was the main topic at the Klondike Committee meeting last week! Scholar Klondike put up a very concise argument in favor of doing a more intellectual fic as opposed to the normal gun/sword fight fics that we envy so much. And Moral Klondike had the swing vote that said we should go ahead and finish this before we do any more projects. Besides, you and Id Klondike had your privileges revoked after that atrocity on that date with Corissa."
So yeah, that's basically a synopsis of what happened. I published the first chapter of Lyra before I actually thought of the minotaur story/
I for one am glad you chose to do this story instead of a minotaur adventure story. Gotta have more War of the Fallen Race, bro. It's fuckin' great.
1977208 Okay, here it is. I went a little insane (even more than usual), and freaking wrote a prologue.
ENJOY IT NOW!
2004197 Actually, what did you think of it? Should I actually go ahead and do that as kind of a side project?
The minotaur sample story you made is nice (I am more interested in the soviet side of the fall though). But please don't abandon this story arc. I think I realize how hard it can be doing a non adventure story but I believe that this does a good job of fleshing out your war of the race universe.
Really I liked the original story so much I used it in conjunction with a voice reading app (voice reader with the free Ivona voice app) during a cross country road trip to pass the time (I would have payed for this story by the way). I read it before that of course but it was enjoyable hearing it again nonetheless.
Plus I believe Lyra is best pony don't let this story die like others I have seen on this site. Your story arcs should see more attention than they have.