//------------------------------// // Hitch: Substiconfusion // Story: Sick Little Ponies II: The Multiseries Virus Vector // by Estee //------------------------------// It wasn't unusual for Hitch to not drop by the Brighthouse for several days, and most of that could be put down to the workload. When it came to law enforcement, Bridlewood had found some way of making a citizen's brigade actually function. Zephyr Heights had multiple precincts. Maretime Bay was currently at 'Hitch', and that didn't seem likely to change for a long time. Local government wasn't particularly interested in shoring up law enforcement. Not when the newborn tourism industry had the potential to bring so much foreign money into the Bay, and 'If you do something wrong, you may be arrested' didn't feel like much of a selling point for the commercials. And no matter how much trouble the visitors caused, regardless of how ragged Hitch sometimes looked, with all of the sweat in his coat converting to froth and froth was usually about three minutes away from triggering a faint... There were several vital things to understand about the City Council. The foundation stone was that just about every last pony on it had been personally chosen for their jobs by Phyllis Cloverleaf -- whose top priority was 'Find those who are willing to let me continue getting away with everything'. The result was a local government which was currently debating a statute which said that while taking money from lobbyists before holding a vote might legally be considered as a bribe, accepting cash after the final tally was merely accepting a tip for a job well done. Ponies like that generally didn't want to have a lot of law enforcement around, just in case it decided to try arresting them. So it was just Hitch, and was likely to remain so unless a truly major crisis threatened the Council with the only consequence they personally understood -- losing their authority -- or the next election actually managed to accomplish something. And with the sheer workload he had to deal with, it truly wasn't unusual to not see him at the Brighthouse for the better part of a week. But the resident mares could always call him. Pipp, who was slowly learning about the princess-perceived horrors of the old days, had shuddered at the thought of an age where checking on somepony would have meant having to actually visit their house. The true worry began when he stopped answering his phone. The five mares didn't panic immediately. It was possible that the charge had just run out, or that Hitch had stumbled into one of the Bay's dead zones. (The network was being upgraded to accommodate for pegasus models and transmissions: the first side effect of the process was to create multiple regions which, for transmission speed, struggled to reach dialup.) But after a few additional hours passed with no hint of stallion... Pipp, who sometimes had issues with the whole 'in person' thing, had proposed trying to tap every security camera in the Bay. Sunny had rather more sensibly pulled out a map and started dividing the city into search districts. It was Izzy who found his unconscious form, splayed across the stoop of a fully paid-off home. The mane was limp, with the tail having gone completely still. Breathing was ragged. Most of the froth had already slid away from his overheated coat, followed by evaporating in the rays of a summer sun. The right foreleg was outstretched, with the hoof almost up to the door. Straining to make contact. Trying to reach Sparky. It was his first word when he finally woke up. "...Sparky..." just barely croaked out of a dry throat, and did so before he'd even opened his eyes. "Is staying with your grandmother," a familiar voice softly said. "I used my key to go in and get him, and then Zipp flew him over in the Marestream. He was just a little hungry. He'll be fine, Hitch." "...Sunny?" "Right here." With the sort of faint laugh which was only incidentally devoid of all actual humor, "I've been here for a few hours. The others have been in and out. Zipp should drop by again once she gets back." Perhaps a little too carefully, "She's... very worried about you, Hitch. We all are." "...where am I...?" Because everything stank of cotton and chemicals, with the latter registering as the stench which only came when you were desperate to make every other smell go away. Hearing her say "The hospital," didn't create all that much of a shock. Hitch opened his eyes. An amber gaze slowly moved across the IV port on his left foreleg, then gradually tracked it back to the hanging bag. He'd been given a solo room. There was that, at least. No having to worry about physicians scrambling in and out to treat another patient. It also meant that all of the assigned space for visitors -- two whole benches -- could be used by anypony coming to see him. Sunny, whose expression was presenting concern and exhaustion in equal measure, had definitely been there for some time. A small amount of shed white down on the empty specimen offered proof of Pipp's previous attendance. Also, the blanket was too thin, the mattress had the smell which indicated that somepony was trying to conceal how many other patients had used it, there was yellowed grass on a tray near the bed, and the television remote displayed the damage of an object which had been kicked at the wall after not working during the last twenty attempts. Add that to all of the dull-white and snooze-beige paint, and you had a hospital. Slowly, Sunny stood up. "Don't try to talk for a few seconds," she told him. "You're rasping. The IV is keeping you hydrated, but your throat is dry. I'll get you some ice chips." She did. He carefully let the trickle of cold water work its way down. "How did I get here?" he finally asked. "Izzy. She managed to load you onto the scooter." "So it wasn't an ambulance," the stallion exhaled. "Good..." "Why is that good?" "The Council would have made me pay for the ride." The mare's expression went tight. Locked. Every strand of fur appeared to go rigid. "...they would what?" Sunny far too carefully said. "I don't get sick leave. Or very much medical coverage from the job." And very quickly, because they were exes and he could see the storm clouds gathering in her eyes, "But I do have some private insurance -- which doesn't cover ambulances -- so I should be fine for this stay. Besides, once the house was paid off and Sparky's college fund got established, I had to save up for something --" A little too softly, "I swear they're trying to make you quit." "Some of them think anarchy is a potential tourism draw," Hitch sighed. "The ones who don't understand how consequences work any more. Because it's been years since they've personally experienced one. I keep telling myself that elections are coming up..." And then he tried to get out of bed. Maroon forehooves instantly pinned him down. "Hitch...!" "I have to get back to work --" "-- you have to get better --" He struggled, to no effect. Earth pony strength had been gradually increasing since magic had returned, but -- she had the leverage. He didn't. And while there had also been a gradual bump in endurance over the last few season, Hitch's had already failed him. The stallion stopped trying to move. Sunny, who knew him a little too well, kept her forehooves planted against his back. "You were unconscious! The doctors..." Open frustration, "Well, you know how it is: if you're not family, you can hardly get them to tell you anything. But Zipp had your grandmother call, and then she told us. Hitch, you literally worked yourself sick. You need fluids. Bed rest. Time where you're not doing anything except getting better. So you're staying right here." Softly -- far too softly, "Because if you won't stay in a bed, then I can promise that you will stay in a coffin." He was silent for a few seconds. She held the reared-up position, waiting. "I'm it," Hitch finally said. "When it comes to enforcing the law around here, I'm it, Sunny. And I'm in here. Without me --" The stallion looked up just in time to see his ex smile. (He was sick. Feverish. Not thinking clearly. All things which, when regarded from the perspective of the near-future, explained why he hadn't seen the smile as the first warning.) "-- deputize us," the activist offered her solution. And just kept smiling. Hitch, in what a fully rational mind would have treated as the first sign of just how sick he was, thought about it. "Us," he tried. "All of us," Sunny clarified. "Everypony in the Brighthouse." He slowly shook his head. "I checked the books once, remember? I can't temporarily deputize outside of a major crisis --" "-- and what would you call having the Bay's entire police force in the hospital? Your being down is the crisis, Hitch. So deputize us. I already talked to the others. They're okay with trying to take over until you're better." She hesitated. "...mostly okay. Misty isn't sure she can -- well, exert authority. But she's willing to try." Hitch kept thinking. I've thought about this before, haven't I? There was some reason I never wanted Sunny to have a badge. Or any of the others. ...can't remember... ...focus. Just Sunny. Why didn't I want Sunny to...? 'NEVER give Sunny the power...' And that was all he could come up with. He knew it was something he'd considered before, and he'd definitely rejected the prospect at that time. But now the crisis was upon them, and... he couldn't remember why the idea had been pushed aside. "All of you?" "As volunteers," the activist declared, and did so with open satisfaction. "The Council can't complain about the expenses if we're doing it for free. I've been in your office --" she winced "-- and the cells more than often enough to understand how the basics operate. Including some of the paperwork. And we all reviewed the laws together when we were trying to figure out how to create a tourist code of conduct for the Bay, remember? We'll be okay." He was still trying to think. But most of what went through his head were faint memories. Because there were five mares living in the Brighthouse, and a lot of ponies had asked Hitch what it was like to live with them. He didn't. It wasn't proper. Half of the Bay could (and seemingly did) believe he was the lone stallion for the world's first (newest?) multi-species miniherd, but Hitch had his own house and the paid-off mortgage document was framed. No matter how many ponies tried to congratulate him on having secured so many beautiful mares for himself -- -- were they beautiful? It was actually a subject of some debate among the Bay's populace, because earth pony standards for unicorn and pegasus beauty were still being settled. What was the ideal length for a horn? Should Pipp's wings have lost the whole of their down already? And for the one mare he was qualified to judge... that hadn't worked out. It hadn't worked out with such force as to have the conclusion kick them right back into being friends. He wasn't the lone stallion in a six-pony miniherd. It was more like being a single father who kept getting stuck with extra foalsitting duties. "Let us try," Sunny gently encouraged him. "I know we don't have full training. But there's five of us, Hitch. Five are going to be more efficient than one." Or, for that matter, two. Then again, his original second had been Sprout and when he truly considered that, zero might have been a bare improvement over two. "None of you have the mark for the job. I don't know if there's another law enforcement mark in the entire Bay." "It's not an absolute requirement," Sunny emphasized. "It's not like I have a mark for making smoothies." Which may be why you keep insisting that some of your blends make sense. But the Bay needed somepony. "I can't formally swear the group in," Hitch said. "Not without all of you here." "...oh...?" said a mare who'd just spotted the first crack in the armor. Sunny kept telling him that he was effectively allergic to change. Maybe it was time to change his mind. "So I'll have to write it up. Or you write it, and I'll sign." "Oh!" was almost a peal of delight. "Sure! I can do that --" "-- after you take your hooves off my back." She dropped down. Paper was found, filled out, and signed. They talked for a little while. She berated him for not taking better care of himself. He tried to explain that the job never went away, she insisted that it was at least going to wait outside the hospital for a few days, and they eventually decided to mutually end the discussion before Debate graduated into Very Old Fight. Sunny headed for the door, promising to visit when she could. Glanced back -- "Pipp," she told him, "has your phone. And you're not getting it back until you're better." Amber eyes frantically blinked. "Sunny...!" "No," the activist insisted. "Because I know how the Council operates, Hitch. There's one sheriff, and he's never off-duty. The phone is how they call you in. Pipp's going to get you a burner, so you can talk to ponies normally. But the Council only knows the number for your phone. And I already gave the hospital a complete list of their names. They're not getting into this room. Not in person, and not by voice or text or email." With a faint smile, "We haven't had the chance to get any pegasi elected to the Council, so nopony's going to be hovering outside your window. And all of your critters are going to give you some space, instead of scouting the city and reporting emergencies to the station house. You'll get your own phone back when you're out of here, Hitch. Not before. Deal with it." And that was it. Because Sunny wanted to help. She needed to change the world. But she loved getting the last word. The others visited. Misty, who wasn't any more familiar with hospitals than she was with anything else, spent about a third of her time tentatively asking about what some of the equipment did: another third was used for openly regretting having gotten the answers. Zipp tried to express both consolation and condolences, and did just about as well at that as she did at expressing anything else. The older royal simply wasn't good with social interaction, but... there was something awkwardly endearing in watching her try. It was almost adorable. Pipp brought in the burner phone and shortly after, his grandmother called. Sparky was brought in front of the camera, and the highlight of Hitch's day became a five-minute broadcast demonstration of every funny face he knew, until his son finally giggled himself onto the edge of sleep. Medical personnel were in and out, hemming and hawing around his bed. (Doctor hemmed: nurses tended to haw.) His IV bag was changed. Hitch was offered a plate of items which qualified as 'food' on substance and nutritional balance, while utterly failing on taste. He tried to sleep. But it was hard to rest in a hospital. Normally, he would have been kept awake by stress over Sparky, but he trusted his grandmother. It was the hospital itself which turned sleep into a fitful thing. The darkness of recovery was regularly chased away by the sounds produced from the equipment, along with noises produced by hooves moving through the hallway and the simple knowledge that the entire building could turn into a crisis center at any time. There was also a certain nagging concern. Why didn't I want Sunny to have a badge? But the fever wouldn't let him remember. The remote failed to work as scuff-advertised. Hitch tried to think of something he could do in a hospital, considered what the life of a single parent and Law Enforcement's Only Option had done to his personal leisure time, and then asked a nurse for a book. A book, as opposed to the few dozen hardcovers which Zipp had tried to wheel in. It took him fifty pages to realize that the horror element in the very old story came from the prospect of having magically-disguised unicorns infiltrating an earth pony town. Hitch asked for another book. Finally, the night truly closed in. None of the Brighthouse mares came by in the morning. The natural presumption was that they were trying to set up their new schedules and would check in when they could. His grandmother called. Hitch gratefully used a few minutes to talk Sparky into not being quite so fussy over breakfast. Medications were issued. His temperature was checked. Several hours passed, along with a number of chapters. And then he got his first visitor of the day. "Your cousin Hika," the nurse announced as the dark blue earth pony mare tentatively made her way into the room. Hitch blinked. He was about to say something. He had to say something. But the nurse stepped away from the door, and the mare responded by accelerating her pace, virtually racing up to his bedside. The stallion got ready to call out. The other, extremely available option was to start kicking. "Sheriff!" the mare gasped. "I needed to --" "-- I don't have a cousin named Hika," Hitch said. Loudly. It was just possible to hear hooves coming to a complete stop in the hallway. Then they started to turn around. "I know!" the mare frantically told him. "I had to lie at the reception desk! It was the only way they'd let me come in here! Sheriff, you don't know what's going on out there! What they're all doing! You have to --" Which was when the nurse, head lowered and eyes blazing, raced into the room. Her jaw snapped. Teeth clamped down on the end of the startled mare's tail, and a slow backwards pace began to drag the intruder out. "NO!" the mare shouted. "You have to let me speak with him! Somepony has to do something --" Which was all she was able to say before the steady pull removed her from the room. He wasn't quite sure what had happened. The initial theory was that the hospital's psychiatric evaluation area had just suffered a breach. Of course, the mare had told him that she'd come in through the reception desk, but an escaped patient would have lied. Hitch thought about talking to the security personnel. A tentative plan was formed to go look at the evaluation section before departure, just to see if anything could be improved. And then he tried to rest again, because that was apparently the only way he was going to get better. That plan held up until the moment when the second stranger of the day got into the room. The new stallion didn't offer a name. He didn't try to claim a false relationship in front of the nurse, nor did she have the chance to announce one on his behalf. The dull red earth pony just tried to call for the sheriff's help at the instant his head cleared the door frame, and that meant it was as far as he got before the removal efforts closed in. Based on sound alone, nopony among the next three managed to get any farther than the nurses' station. Then the staff closed his door. He didn't know what was going on. One breach could have been believed. Two felt like a slim chance. Five would have required the entire psych section to empty out at once, and he was sure there would have been alarms going off all over the hospital. Hitch pulled out the burner phone. Called the Brighthouse mares, one by one. Four of the attempts produced no answer. Zipp picked up. "Hey, sheriff! I'm glad you called, but I'm kind of busy right now. I can try to call you back in --" She paused, likely to consider her answer. The sudden silence allowed him to pick up on some of the background noise. "Zipp," Hitch carefully began, "why do I hear ponies shouting?" "You can hear that?" The shrug was almost audible. "Well, trust Pipp to pick out a phone." "Why are they --" "-- it's just work stuff," the heir cut him off. "Your work, I mean. Nothing serious. All part of the job, right? You don't need to worry about it. You just get better. Anyway, I'll call you after my shift is over. Or maybe I'll drop by the hospital." He tried to talk, did everything he could to push the words out in time -- but Zipp had the same opinion regarding phone protocols as she did just about every other kind, and the call simply disconnected on the spot. Hitch took as much time as he dared for staring at the screen: about half a second. And then he turned his body to face the bed's railing before ramming a forehoof into the Call Nurse button. It took seven minutes before anypony actually came in and by that point, he'd just about finished removing the IV on his own. It took a lot of work to get out of the hospital, especially when the medical response to being told he was leaving started with a threat to reassign him into Psychiatric Evaluation. They wanted him to stay. They kept telling him about all of the things which could happen if he left. At one point, with malice aforethought, the doctor who knew him best invoked Sparky. Telling Hitch that he had to get better for his son. And it was almost enough -- but the little dragon also needed a town to grow up in. Being a father was one responsibility: being the sheriff was another. It wasn't a question of choosing; it was just seeing how they went together. Ultimately, the only reason he got free was that he had the legal right to leave. Anypony could tell the hospital that they were refusing treatment, or stopping whatever they'd been receiving. Dr. Michu could yell, stomp hooves, and say 'I insist' with ever-increasing volume -- but couldn't stop him. The most Hitch was willing to give the staff was a promise: that once matters were resolved, he would evaluate his own health and if he didn't feel better, he would come back. He had to heal for his son -- but nopony was telling him anything real (while quoting 'stress' as their reason for withholding information), and that meant he had to get out there for the sake of the Bay. On hoof. The hospital responded to this through informing him that due to insurance reasons, he wasn't allowed to trot the doors under his own power. And then they loaded him onto a cart. Hitch waited until the exact second the flat-topped humiliation had cleared the front doors, then jumped down to street level and tried to break into a full gallop -- -- three muscles cramped at the same time. He froze. Nearly dropped. Waited for the pain to fade. And then Hitch, driven by duty and mark, limped away under the summer sun. The first stop was the station house. He'd been hoping to catch at least one of the mares there. Find out what was going on. But the initial part of the plan didn't work. Hitch forced himself through the opened doors, and found nopony behind the desk. The work area was empty. "SHERIFF!" "You have to get us out --" "-- they didn't understand --" "-- I swear I care, I do, I just didn't have time --" "-- I didn't do anything, I didn't, she's crazy, just open the door and I can --" The cells were full. He'd... never seen them like this, not even after town festivals with alcohol involved or the inevitable family fights which were triggered by any gathering holiday. Cells which had been made for, at most, double occupancy had been crowded to at least three times that. There would have theoretically been some space available closer to the ceiling, but hovering was difficult to maintain and an active wingspan took up a lot of room. The pegasi among the imprisoned had no realistic means of claiming the high ground. "HELP US --" "-- stop." It had been the voice of Authority. Every prisoner went silent. "Tell me what you're all in for," Hitch instructed, and that was a mistake: the babbling started up immediately, overlapped into indistinctiveness, and then quickly degenerated into shouting. "Cancel that! I'm just going to review the paperwork. It'll be faster." He did his best to scramble for the filing cabinets, straining another muscle along the way -- -- where is it? Or rather, given the sheer quantity of forms which should have been involved, 'where are they?' But there was no fresh paperwork anywhere in the cabinets. The natural conclusion was that the Brighthouse mares had instantly taken on one bad habit of just about every rookie officer: putting off all bureaucracy until the end of the shift. He couldn't trust the prisoners to give the full truth, and without the forms -- -- a small, enthusiastic tail repeatedly rapped against his back left pastern. Hitch looked down. The mares hadn't left the station house completely undefended. It was current under the rather dubious guardianship of a small, white, mostly-spherical dog. The sheriff carefully lowered himself to the floor, Most of his body used the motion as an opportunity to request that he not get up against for at least two days. Hitch looked directly at Cloudpuff. "Tell me." The little dog didn't know much. Dogs generally didn't. There had been mares going in and out. Some of them brought other ponies with them, and then those ponies went into the cells. Nopony had given the dog a treat. He'd been intermittently barking at the cell occupants, along with just looking hungry and wagging his tail. No treats had resulted. Cloudpuff didn't understand what charges were, but a total lack of snacks had him ready to press all of them. Hitch moved directly for the safe. The little vault contained a gift, granted to him by Queen Haven in the open hopes that he would never have to use the thing. It was a tracker, capable of tapping into the modified cellular network. It had been designed to get past the security employed by Bestie and Zipp's tablet, because the queen had understood -- and dreaded -- that there might be a time when somepony would desperately need to find her daughters. It would be capable of locating every Brighthouse mare -- as long as they were carrying their phones, weren't occupying a dead zone, and Izzy hadn't found a new way to short out her battery. He donned the neck-mounted cradle, then turned the tracker on. The screen lit, and Hitch glanced at the frantic prisoners. "I'm going to find out what's going on," he promised them. "If anypony's been put into the cells without a good reason, you'll be released. The rest of you will be held over for court -- no, do not start arguing! This has to be sorted out, and the only way to do that is dealing with --" the words felt oddly slippery on his tongue "-- the arresting officers. You can manage in there for a few more hours. I'm going to bring you some water, and then I have to get out there." And he had the option to wait until one or more of the mares came back -- but that left them out in the Bay. Doing whatever had been happening to put so many ponies in the cells. Was it possible that every last arrest had been legitimate? Was there that much crime in Maretime Bay, and he'd missed nearly all of it because a single stallion could only cover so much? Or had all of the criminals simply been waiting until he'd been effectively locked away? "You need a drink," one of the older prisoners quickly said. "You don't look well --" "-- no time." With the tracker active... ...don't approach directly. Not at first. Get close. Avoid having them see me, because they'll probably just try to shuttle me back into the hospital room. See how they're interacting with the public. Assess and evaluate. ...and don't pass out. He found Zipp on the boardwalk. She was actually rather easy to spot, at least once he managed to peer through the milling, confused, and tightly-packed wall of bodies which (technically) surrounded her. The herd did a lot to conceal his presence, while still leaving her completely out in the open. She was very easy to see. The only thing simpler was hearing. There was a certain contrast between the royal siblings... You couldn't really describe Zipp as being antisocial, because there was a fundamental requirement for being against something: acknowledging its existence. As far as Zipp was concerned, the whole of society could go stand over there. And stay there. Forever. She loved her sister. She was capable of making friends, and it was just barely possible to talk her into hosting flying lessons without using a stake and rope to keep her in place. But the future ruler of a nation regarded the vast majority of other ponies as something which needed to exist a long way off. Hitch didn't feel her eventual ascension to the throne posed any threat of conquest -- but he knew that the reign of Queen Zephyrina was still going to redraw at least one border, and it would be around the throne room. In Zephyr Heights... that was where Zipp had some degree of power. Even when just about all true sovereignty had been consolidated within the central throne, Zipp could give a few orders to pegasus citizens. But she'd left just about everything associated with her title at the border. While within the Bay, she was effectively a Princess In Name Only. When it came to enforcing her wishes, she had no authority. Not as a royal. "I don't feel like some of you understand how this works!" emerged in a near-bark. "I am an officer of the law! I need to have clear vision at all times, so I can tell if anypony is breaking those laws! So I want a clear radius of eight body lengths maintained around me at all times! Violating that is Interference With An Officer In The Fulfillment Of Her Duties! And I will arrest!" She had no royal authority in Maretime Bay. And then Sunny had given her a substitute. Crossly, "This isn't complicated, people. I don't know why so many ponies are having problems with this." "It's the boardwalk," one of the natives managed. "You're on the boardwalk --" "Patrolling the boardwalk," Zipp automatically corrected. "-- we're just trying to get by you..." "Then you can get by," Zipp pointed out, "by skirting the border. Where I can see you." She looked satisfied at her own pronouncement. And that wasn't the worst of it. The Brighthouse mares didn't have a lot of things in common, and very few traits came close to being universal. But multiple ponies in the group had trouble expressing themselves -- or rather, they couldn't do so in ways which were recognized as being fully normal. Izzy, who'd been determined to show Bridlewood that positive emotions were allowed to publicly exist, had never truly learned to moderate herself. She was simply too intense, and some portion of that emotional fierceness remained even when she was at rest. Izzy, when calm, defaulted to what Hitch thought of as Resting Serial Killer Face. And if she was happy... Ponies tended to keep a very close eye on Izzy, especially when she was smiling. It was a good way to see just how close her teeth were to their throats. Zipp had a different issue, and Hitch wasn't sure the older princess was even aware of it. Because when viewed by an outside observer, the visible emotional base state of Zephyrina Storm came across as being (falsely) set to 'smug'. White ears perked. The regal head lifted. "I heard those wingbeats!" Zipp half-roared. "I said eight body lengths in all directions! That includes straight up! And if any of you earth ponies are thinking about using your magic to burrow a tunnel under me --" The locals within the crowd were staring at her again. "-- okay," Zipp conceded. "So maybe nopony's tried that yet. But you shouldn't try it today. Not here. And not if you're trying to slip under the boardwalk while I'm on patrol, because I call that Suspicious Activity and you'd better believe I'm going to detain a few ponies for it." She looked around, jabbed a purple forehoof at a random local. "You. You're a native. There's a public restroom two blocks up the boardwalk, right?" "...yes..." the local reluctantly tried. "I thought so." Zipp thoughtfully nodded to herself. "The law is going to require a toilet trench. Gallop ahead and clear the place out." Izzy's head automatically turned as Hitch approached. It was possible that there was some level of magical instinct in play, telling her that somepony was coming -- but it was much easier to blame the alleyway. There were wide, flat paving stones in the narrow space, and they combined with the close-pressing walls to effectively amplify sound. It had certainly made it easier for Hitch to hear the screaming. Her attention focused on him. The object which was currently surrounded by her hornlight bobbed somewhat at the bottom of the attaching loop. Portions of glow intensified here and there, while others dimmed. "Oh, hi!" she casually greeted him, and did so with one of those too-wide smiles -- which quickly inverted. "Should you be out of the hospital this soon? Because you don't look well. Tired. Kind of hot, and I don't mean in the calendar way. And you're limping! Sunny's going to be really mad if she finds out that you left before you were better. So if you aren't better -- are you? -- then right after I wrap up here, I can take you back --" "HELP US!" the youngest-looking of the three cloth-bound stallions screamed. "WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! SHE'S CRAZY! SHE JUST GALLOPED IN HERE AND TIED US UP --!" "-- oh, stop it already," Izzy crossly requested. "Nopony's buying this. Well, nopony who saw it happen, which doesn't include Hitch. But I think he'll believe me before he believes you." With a sudden worry which made the hornlight briefly dim, "You will believe me, won't you? Or you'll at least listen?" "-- LOOK AT HER FACE! SHE'S GOING TO --" Luminescent heliotrope clamped around three jaws. "-- I don't know why I didn't do this in the first place," the unicorn muttered. Three lengths of cloth floated forward, wrapped themselves around snouts before finishing off with the sort of knot which came with an inherent double-loop of near-malice. "Much better! So let me just finish what I'm doing, and then I should really put these three in the cells before I try anything else. Like taking you back. I'm sure you shouldn't be sweating that much. Sort of sure. How much do earth ponies sweat? Oh, and you don't smell like fish. Just to mention." He attempted to recover. It wasn't the illness. Trying to feel normal in Izzy's presence was an ongoing challenge. "I tried calling you," he told her. "All of you." "Pipp set our phones to only ring for emergency or police-related calls," Izzy informed him. "Anything which comes in through that server. Is a server like a switchboard? But she said it's to keep them from going off all the time. Even though they pretty much do that anyway." But Zipp picked up... The hornlight, along with Izzy's attention, mutually refocused on their original target. It rattled, and Hitch heard a small click. Izzy smiled. "What happened?" Hitch forced himself to ask. It was a necessary inquiry. But there were certain risks associated with asking Izzy a question. "They were trying to break in," the mare casually replied. "I was passing by on patrol and heard them. This alley makes it really easy to hear things. And I checked the other side of the building. There's a shop there -- and you already knew that because you've lived here your whole life." Politely, "But did you know the owners went on vacation? Maybe they did that because there's finally places to take vacations in. They left a sign on the door. It says they'll be back in two weeks. So what I think happened is that these three saw the sign and decided they'd get into the shop when nopony was going to be here." He briefly wondered where she'd gotten the binding fabric. Then he realized that she'd probably been patrolling on her scooter, which had the supply cabinet attached -- -- actually, when regarded from that perspective, the thieves had gotten off easy, because the crafter effectively carried weapons at all times. She had sharp-tipped screws, thin nails, an interesting selection of splinters which served for wood color samples -- and that was just what was probably secured within the overlong mane. The supply cabinet was worse. A very large number of horrible things could be done with buttons, especially if Izzy made an interesting choice on where she was going to put them. "So you stopped a crime in progress," Hitch tried. She nodded without looking at him. There were two more clicks. "I caught them trying to get the padlock open." "And... what are you trying to do now?" There were certain risks associated with asking Izzy a question. With a sort of merry politeness, "Trying to get the lock open." One of them was the possibility of having her answer it. "...what?" "Trying to get the lock open!" the crafter repeated for the benefit of the nearby stunned -- then thoughtfully added "Locks are kind of a paradox, aren't they? Or maybe it's a conundrum. Because you want them to stay closed -- but you also have to be capable of getting them open. What would happen if you lost the key and the lock just stayed shut forever, because it was so good that nopony could ever pick it? You'd never be able to get in again! Not unless you took out everything around the lock, and that would be really hard on the door. So you should never make a lock which can't be picked, and doing that is what locksmiths are for! Except that none of these three are locksmiths." Rather considerately, "I asked. So what I'm doing is seeing how hard this lock is to open. With my hornlight. They were using tools, but I think it's about the same for results. Anyway, I've got most of the tumblers pressed already, and I think that means it isn't a very good lock. So once I'm finished here, we'll drop off these three at the station house, maybe take you back to the hospital -- I can take them in myself if you'll just promise to go back, or flag a hansom in front of me -- and I'll write up a report about the lock. I can leave it in the mailbox and the owners will see it when they get back. Replace this one with something better." Hitch experienced what probably would have been the standard reaction to an extended Izzy speech from a healthy stallion. He stood very still, let his mind reel, and hoped that it didn't crash into the ground without him. "And after that," Izzy casually added, "I'm going to come back and test all of the other locks on the street. But only as long as there's still daylight. I don't want ponies to see me checking anypony's security at night! They might think I was trying to break in. And I'm not. Getting the lock off is just making sure ponies are safe. Breaking in means going through the door afterwards. You really don't look well. Do you need some water? I think I should get you some water. Maybe there's some inside the shop? Because Sunny was telling me about this really old loophole called the sufficiency clause..." There was a certain contrast between the princesses... "I'm going to explain this one more time," the little mare said with not-at-all-disguised impatience. "Because I don't feel like you're all getting it. I am an officer of the law. When I give an instruction, it has to be obeyed. If I tell you to move, you move. If I ask a question, you answer. Is everypony with me so far?" Several dozen watching ponies, whose confused presence was providing Hitch with just enough natural camouflage to stay hidden, collectively forced a nod. "So if I sing," Pipp instructed the herd, "strictly in the name of keeping myself focused while I'm trying to do all of this boring work -- then you either listen, or you sing along with me." In open self-satisfaction, "And that is an official roy -- legal. An official legal instruction. From an officer of the law." Thoughtfully, "But if we're going to do a chorus, then I really need to know what I'm working with. So let's get some sample notes. I think I'll start with -- you. The earth pony wearing the... hat. The one with the black band." Frowning now. "Hang on. I can almost remember your name..." "This isn't about mobs again, is it?" the stallion nervously asked. Pipp blinked. "Why would it be about mobs?" "Because I really don't do well with group musical numbers --" "-- oh, shut up, Rob," the little mare muttered -- then abruptly beamed. "See? I remembered! Look at that stallion, everypony! His name is Rob! Now let's hear what you can do! Give an A0." "A..." was as far as Rob got. "The lowest note on a piano," Pipp sniffed. "Let me hear your A0. Or as close as you can come. You do know you're a natural tenor, right?" It arguably wasn't his day for getting close to unicorn mares without being spotted. But then, by that point, he was sweating so much as to create a very real chance that Misty had simply smelled him coming. It was a hot day, he was still running a fever, and he hadn't been able to stop for a drink once... The watching crowd automatically parted as he approached. This was put down to their having heard approaching hoofsteps, because none of them looked at him. Everypony was simply staring at the tree. "...hi, Hitch," Misty finally mustered. Pink hooves nervously scraped against the soil. "Um... should you be out of the -- hospital?" A small, uncertain nod, as if she'd just checked herself and was still unwilling to believe she'd come up with the right answer. "Hospital. Because you really don't look very good. Um. Other ponies say you usually look good, but I don't know. I guess you wouldn't have the calendars if you didn't, but..." The herd was fixedly staring at a mangrove. There were a few in the Bay, because it was a species which thrived close to water. This one was an exceptionally sturdy specimen, with thick branches in the upper part of the structure. The tree groaned. Nopony blinked. "What happened?" Hitch asked. Silence. The dirt trenches got deeper. Remember that I'm talking to Misty. Be careful. Be gentle. Just let her talk. "Misty," Hitch softly said, "please..." Her eyes briefly squeezed shut. The tail curled in towards her right flank. He gave her time. "It was a shoplifter," the unicorn finally began. "I know she was stealing, because she came galloping out of the store with the jewelry in her mouth and the owner was screaming. So I... tried telling her to stop." "And?" Hitch carefully tried to advance the plot. Her head went down, leaving him staring at a hopeless riot of curls. "I... tried to tell her..." Right. Misty. She has real trouble talking to strangers. There's times when she can barely speak to us. There might have been a squeak. "And then?" Hitch gently said. Waited. Eventually, with the first wet sniffle which indicated that misery had settled in behind the manefall, "I... thought I could -- try to make her stop..." Hitch thought about Misty. She doesn't understand society, because she spent half of her life away from it and doesn't remember the early years. Feels, deep down, that just about everything she does it wrong. Still recovering from years of emotional abuse. (Misty claimed that the alicorn had never kicked her. Hitch had doubts.) Forever trying, while terrified of what she sees as inevitable failure. The tree groaned again. And she considers herself to be the weakest pony in the world. A mare who casually opened off-balance half-baleton doors in Queen Haven's palace truly believes that about herself. Because the only pony she'll compare herself against is Opaline. Misty's head slowly raised. Wet green eyes came into view, blinked away the tears. And then they all looked at the tree. The mare within the branches was actually rather hard to spot -- at first. Her natural mane and coat colors blended into those of the mangrove rather well. But once you saw her, she couldn't be missed. There were certain aspects which stood out. Like the necklace which was hanging over one branch. Or the bark which had cracked from impact. And if you somehow failed to recognize any of that, there was always the fact that she had been flung about three stories into the air and had wound up partially embedded against a tree. "Um..." Misty miserably summarized. "I... probably shouldn't try to levitate her down again..." Eventually, somepony found a rolling ramp. He hadn't really spoken to either of the sisters. But both unicorns had been available, and they'd told him about their own arrests. Prior to intercepting the break-in, Izzy had found a single traffic violation: one badly-parked cart, ticketed accordingly. For Misty... arresting somepony would have meant interaction. But she'd also said that the shoplifter was the first crime she'd spotted, and Hitch believed her. It was possible that the princesses were responsible for some of the cell occupants: in particular, it was easy to picture Zipp enforcing her personal restraining order against the world through relocating certain trotting sections of it. But that didn't account for the whole. And he was tired. His body was fighting against his willpower, and doing its best to win. Mark and duty drove him forward, but... they needed to be housed in a healthy shell. (He hadn't really eaten or drank since leaving the hospital. There were other priorities in play.) Ponies kept stopping him on the street. Asking what was going on. (None of them had any details.) How he was going to stop it. But for the most part, they took one look at his face, went for their phones, and tried to call an ambulance. He'd had to stop every last summons. An ambulance meant starting all over again and besides, he didn't need the extra kick to his savings. Hitch forced himself onward as the sun dipped and night began to close in, broken up by the little pools of illumination from the streetlights. Tracking the last signal. Fighting to stay conscious until it was all fixed. And then he found the final mare. There had been a reason why he'd never wanted Sunny to have a badge... It finally came back to his fevered brain, as he watched the playlet begin from his convenient patch of shadow. 'NEVER give Sunny the power to enforce or write laws.' "Excuse me, sir," the apricot-hued mare told the senior off-yellow stallion. "Oh, it's you," muttered the stallion. "What do you want? Because I'm not signing any petitions. And I don't care how many glowing body parts you can manifest: you're not getting into my office again --" 'She will be arresting EVERYPONY.' "-- that mare who's huddled in the doorway three buildings down," Sunny mercilessly said. "The unicorn. You looked directly at her as she was trying to settle in. Curling up, because that's where she's going to sleep tonight. Because some of the visitors don't bring enough money, or they can't figure out the twisting exchange rates because nopony can figure those out, or they get robbed and don't know where to go. Maybe she just came looking for a job and couldn't find one. I know you saw her --" "-- I am going home," the stallion said. "I look from side to side as I walk, because there might be crime in this area and I heard a rumor that our useless sheriff is sick." Do not move. Not that Hitch really wanted to. The senior snorted. "Which just proves how useless he is, I suppose. That'll be something to bring up at the next mee --" "You went right by her," Sunny darkly continued. "Without speaking to her. But your back right leg did kick some trash in her direction." "Litter on the street," the senior half-snarled, "accidentally directed towards refuse in the doorway. If you're quite done wasting my time --" "-- you're under arrest." He stared at her. She didn't move. "I don't honor citizen's arrests," he finally said. "'Alicorn' is meaningless, just as long as I want it to be. You have no real authority --" Sunny moved. Light glinted off the badge. The "-- oh no..." was brief. The desperate rally immediately followed. "On whose -- who gave you --" "Officially deputized while the sheriff is ill," Sunny smiled. There was no humor in it. "Come with me, please." "...what... what's the charge? What do you think I did?" 'Not Speaking Out For The Cause. Social violations, which is going to turn into a Charge Of Not Being More Involved In Changing Society For The Better. Because if you're not part of the solution, you're clearly part of the crime...' "It's what you didn't do." "What I... didn't..." "Insufficient compassion," said a smile verging into snarl. "I'm bringing you in on a charge of Not Caring Enough." "YOU CAN'T DO --" "Are you trying to stall me, sir?" "I'M TRYING TO MAKE YOU SEE SENSE --" "-- you're stalling," Sunny decided. "So let's kick in Wasting An Officer's Time." The pause was almost evil. "Of course, you could go over to that poor mare in the doorway. And offer her some money. Food. A real place to sleep. And then I might decide to be lenient." "...she's just a transient! The ones with money are the tourists! It's the tourists who matter --" Golden sparks flew from Sunny's forehead and flanks. The senior shut up. He just didn't do so in time. "Thank you for clearing that up," Sunny calmly told him as a glowing horn and two intangible wings appeared in a near-soundless explosion of light. "I personally disagree, of course. Ponies do disagree about things. Tonight, I disagree with your going home. I'm going to send that mare to the Brighthouse and in the morning, after she's had a good meal and a decent night's sleep, I'll see if she needs to go to her home. But you? Are going to the cells." "You can't do this!" represented the last-ditch attempt of the desperate. "I'M A CITY COUNCILOR --" Gold clamped around his jaw. A sparkling lasso of glow pulled all four legs together, and then the hornlight bubble lifted him off the ground. "Thank you again," Sunny offered. "That saves me from having to ask your occupation when I fill out the forms. Now you just float right there while I talk to her, and then we'll --" Hitch forced himself into the light. "Sunny," a dry throat croaked out. "Stop..." She froze. Bright green eyes stared at him, and the end of the braid seemed to twitch. "Hitch? Why are you out of the hospital? You look like you're about to faint --" His body decided to treat it as advice. All of the doctors had told him that he needed some rest. It was a warm night. The street looked oddly comfortable. Hitch passed out. Two days had passed and thanks to the strain he'd put on his body, it was going to be at least three more before the doctors would let him leave the hospital again. The homeless unicorn mare had been offered a job in one of the Oddtrot's specialty shops and was staying at the Brighthouse until she had her rent deposit together: another two weeks. Sunny, who'd been verbally dressed down by the City Council so many times as to turn the sonic dance into more of a dressage, had finally ventured back into Hitch's hospital room. Head down, tail tucked between her legs, and with the strange prismatic streaks seemingly dulled. "So what's been happening out there?" Hitch asked. The sigh lingered for a while. "Most of what we -- I did was overturned," Sunny miserably told him. "Hitch, this is... I..." He waited for her, as both ears went flat against her skull. She had to force them aloft again. "...I can't be trusted with power," she finally said. "This proves it. I was corrupted in less than a day..." "You've been able to summon the horn and wings for a few seasons now --" "-- sometimes summon --" was automatic. "-- and you haven't changed. Not even when those mares tried talking you into using them for getting -- everything." Hitch sighed. "You weren't corrupted, Sunny. You've always wanted to make changes, make the world better. And for what an officer can do-- you went outside the letter of the job." She wouldn't look at him. The orange stripe was now two thin shades away from henna. They'd been friends for years. They'd tried dating for a while, and -- that had been a mistake. Each had claimed the other's virginity, and that had required some time for both recovery and reconciliation. He'd also arrested her so many times in the course of his duties as to potentially give her squatter's rights on at least one cell. And then he'd chased her and a unicorn invader out of the Bay. They'd been through all of that. "The letter," Hitch said. "Not the spirit." But they were still friends. She looked up. Her eyes were damp. "...you think so?" "I wish I could do more than I can," he sighed. "A lot. But I still would have brought the mare to the Brighthouse. You have a good heart, Sunny. You always have. It... just overrides your head most of the time. Power hasn't corrupted you. You're always trying to make things better. You just chose the wrong outlet." And because they were honest with each other, "And because of how the Council's treated you, especially since they lost the Canterlogic backing... there might have been just a little revenge in there..." She giggled, and his heart warmed. "But you can't be a deputy again," he stated. "Not after that. You're lucky not to be up on charges. Or in a lawsuit." It got him a slow, abashed nod. "Not that the councilor came off looking very good," she told him. "He tried to beat me to the press. And succeeded. And then they televised everything he said during the interview. Unedited. The polls already shifted." "So with the group de-deputized..." "They actually asked Misty to keep going," Sunny said. "Maybe because they were afraid to tell her she should leave. But it's too much for her. We were all so busy. It's just too much work, Hitch." She sighed. "And it's still too much when it's all divided by five. But the Council is a little skittish right now, because you can deputize and they don't know who you might pick next. And no law enforcement means they can't call anypony if I try to get into an office. So -- they actually sent out for temporary help." They... "Where?" "Zephyr Heights. Queen Haven loaned us ten officers." She paused. "It's down to nine now." "Why?" "I don't want to think she was a bigot," Sunny sighed. "It's possible that she just got very confused, because she'd never left the Heights before. But there were forty arrests before anypony stepped in." "What were the charges?" "One charge." A little too carefully, "Which was...?" "'Being an earth pony'." "...oh." "But the Bay is more stable now." She hesitated, and he knew that it had gone on a little too long. "They're all going back once you're out of here, though. And the Council really doesn't want to give you any more officers, Hitch." Miserably, "Especially now that I've reminded them that they can be arrested. You're still on your own..." "Maybe after the elections," he told her. "We'll get changes from the new council." Which wasn't guaranteed -- but maybe the polls would stay shifted. She forced a nod. But she still looked sad, and he hated that. He had to cheer her up. At least get her to smile... "One of them visited before you came in," Hitch told Sunny. She blinked. "Seriously?" "He did have to lie about his name to get into the room. But I think they want to make sure I'm on the incumbents' side," he went on. "For all of the ones you'd rather have out. So he told me that they'd voted on two changes to my contract." The "...what?" was extremely cautious. "I get sick leave now. Ten days a year --" "-- Hitch, that's wonderful, you can finally get some rest when you really need it --" "-- dating back to when I started on the job. Cumulative." And deliberately paused. "The full amount is applied on the day of retirement." She thought it over. "So you have sick leave," Sunny finally said, "as long as you stay healthy for the rest of your life and never actually use it." He nodded. "How much sick leave does the Council --" "-- one full season per year. City pays all medical expenses. From tourism taxes." She giggled. "Blatant," Sunny said. "It's all so blatant. As if some of them believe nopony will ever vote again... So what's the second change?" "Remember how I had to pay for my own ambulance? Oh, and thanks for floating me back here." Sunny carefully nodded. Waited. "The Bay is going to cover three percent." "Three whole percent." "Well..." The pause felt artful. "...now." "Well, obviously now..." "It took me an hour to talk the councilor up from two." And she laughed.