April 30, 6:40 PM

“This is your room,” Lance said, about six hours later. They passed in an absolute blur for Wayfinder, who could do little more than go along for the ride. She followed along with everything Lance said, even when that meant agreeing to things that were obviously false.

Yes, she’d been studying at the police academy as a young man about her real age named “Ryan Winters” on vacation to see his family from the East Coast. Yes, Wayfinder had lost everything to verify that claim and was just going by “Way” now, or “Wayfinder.” That got her a few looks, and her “sister” got her a few more. Then she showed them how she could aim a handgun or even a rifle with ease, showed them how she could cycle the action, fire, exchange the magazine, all while holding a radio in the air beside her and a riot shield for cover.

It had been quite some time since her “Rifle Shooting” or “Shotgun Shooting” merit badge back in the scouts. But she could at least hope that her “I didn’t complete the Academy” excuse would work well enough. Way wasn’t trying to start a career in Isolation Zone law enforcement; after all, this was only about finding her friends and getting them out of whatever prison they’d been shoved into for “smuggling contraband.”

A crime they were all guilty of, technically. They’d been trying to get a satellite cellular internet system into the zone, which would’ve let them connect with infected (or anyone) elsewhere. Just like they’d ignored instructions to come here when instructed and instead isolated in their own way. When they thought the Isolation Zone might be wiped off the face of the planet—

Wayfinder hesitated in the doorway, long enough for little Hazel to scamper into the space behind her. The bug now carried something in her mouth: a military-surplus style sleeping bag, a little big for her size.

At human size, the quarters would not have had a lot of space. Enough for a bunk, desk, wardrobe, and a sink against the wall. But being ponies did come with that advantage: they were a lot smaller, and a cramped room became more spacious when you weren’t as high off the ground. Way set her single bag down on the edge of the bed, then looked back at Lance.

“I know, it’s not the Ritz,” she said, tail flicking to either side. “Building used to be part of a National Guard base, so it’s not the most luxurious conditions. But the hot water works, there’s food in the mess, and we keep the trash out. Your sister won’t have to worry about meeting anyone less than friendly while you’re at work. Neither of you will go hungry, and you’ll be doing an important service for the people of Denver. People. Such as we are.”

Way glanced briefly at the window. Too narrow for a human to fit through, no doubt a deliberate choice. Plenty of sunlight still streamed in from outside. It was early afternoon at the latest. Her friends hadn’t been locked in some awful prison forever. “What is the government going to do with us?” she asked.

“You? Teach that levitation you’re doing to other officers. We’ve worked out it comes down to having these horns, which limits who we can use for some kinds of work. It’s even more important we can deploy every single available officer. If we could get everyone able to do what you’re doing, it would give us a whole world of new resources to clean up this mess of an Isolation Zone.”

She could hardly argue with the goal of cleaning the place up, if that meant making it safe enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked while walking through the most unsavory parts of the shelter. Helping that goal, making Denver safer for all the people trapped here, was certainly a worthwhile and noble goal.

“When would I start?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Lance said. “While you were getting set up, we got word from command about it. There’s a laptop coming for you, which you’ll bring to the class so one of our contacts at the CDC can listen in. They might have some questions for you too, not sure. But you can use it to put together lesson plans. And I’ll be there. Anyone with horns will probably be there. Lots of folks are expecting great things, so you better deliver.”

A laptop was coming, presumably one with some kind of wireless connectivity if a rep at the CDC was going to be watching. So they were just going to hand her the exact thing that her friends risked their lives to carry into the zone in their car.

Maybe she expected the pronouncement to weigh her down. Instead, Way grinned. “No worries. Magic’s not as scary as it seems, once you get some basic principles.” She trailed off abruptly, her ears twitching at the sound of a familiar voice in the hallway beyond. Someone’s talking and joking with another officer, apparently part of a large group making their way closer. She stepped past Lance into the doorway, staring. She can’t possibly be hearing—

It’s Peter, wearing one of the police vests and walking along with several other stallions through the dorms. They’re all wearing towels and smell like they came from the showers somewhere.

Lance flicked her tail in annoyance, then followed her out into the hall. “Guess you might as well meet some of our colleagues.” She took a few steps towards them, tail raised, gesturing with her foreleg. “Hey, losers! Fresh meat! But go easy on this one—she’s an instructor. Not another one of those pieces of dried leather out of ICE. Gentle, now.”

Way froze. Peter did too, though for less than a second. His eyes moved over her in a blink, and he was moving again before the other stallions even noticed him hesitate.

“Egghead, huh?” called someone else—an Earth pony, nearly as wide as two of Wayfinder. “I’m sure the collective IQ of this building just went up by a few points.”

“Don’t give her too much credit. Haven’t seen her open her mouth yet.”

Lance took a step towards them as they drew nearer—probably to head them off, or make them keep their distance from Way. Except that wasn’t what happened. As they approached, Lance stepped right up to Peter, stretching that tiny body with forelegs planted—and kissed him.

The gesture wasn’t particularly measured or chaste, either. The small crowd parted around the two of them, a few making crude remarks or whistling as they went. Wayfinder stared, mouth agape. Something small and sharp dug into her chest and twisted.

They’d survived together for weeks, months almost. But the second they get back to civilization and get separated, Peter had—

She looked away, waiting for the two of them to be finished. She didn’t have to watch.

“Way, this is Peter,” Lance said, a frighteningly long time later. “Another of our new recruits. He’s living with me, and I’m across the hall, so expect to see him around.” She took a single step towards Wayfinder, her voice low and suddenly dangerous. The whisper would not be quiet enough to stop Peter from overhearing, of course. “And you are not even going to think about inviting him over, or spending private time with him. Because I went out on a limb to get you and your little sister in here, and we don’t piss where we eat. Got it?”

She nodded weakly, but didn’t get any words out before Peter spoke from behind her, his tone casual. The words were so simple, yet every one burrowed into her afresh. “Easy there, short stuff. I’ve met this girl, and she’s not into me. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Lance glanced over her shoulder at him, then shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t. Just putting it out there.” Her casual smile returned, as though her previous intensity had never been there. “You’ll learn this, Way. But I don’t go in for any of those implications and hints shit. We just say things how they are and deal with them.” She glanced between them, then took one step down the hall. “Now, showers. You’re coming with me. Your sister can probably come too; she should know where they are. Won’t be long.”

It wasn’t. They even had hot water, though it lacked for anything like privacy. Instead, there was only one large, open space, with a list of times posted where guys or girls were permitted to use it. Wayfinder’s time there was as brief as it was surreal, with a steady stream of other police and staff coming through and fumbling to get clean with their reduced mobility. Compared to them, her magical use of soap and sponges attracted open stares.

“Command hired her as a telekinesis teacher,” Lance explained, at least a dozen times before they were done. She got more stares in the lockers. As annoying as all that attention was, it did accomplish one useful task: it kept anyone from staring too long at Hazel. The insect took a spot next to Wayfinder, hiding in her shower while she soaked up all the stares and attention. With her so prominent, there was no one left to bother her little sister.

“Tomorrow morning,” Lance reminded her, when they finally got back to the room. There was a laptop waiting on the bed, a rugged military style with a nicer webcam epoxied to the top. “Mess is at 7. Your class starts at 8. You’ll teach for two hours, then another at 1, after lunch. For now, that’s it. Might be PT or a duty schedule down the road. But you’re new, and I think command wants to see what you can do.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wayfinder promised. “See you there.” She shut the door before she could say anything stupid, slumping down in front of the bed.

A second later, Hazel appeared, nudging her from the side and meeting her eyes with those strange, multifaceted insect organs. “You didn’t tell him you liked him?”

Way groaned, flicking her tail in annoyance. “I was not so damn perceptive at your age.” She made her way back to the window, looking out at the Isolation Zone by night. Far less activity now, with most of the streetside shops closing. Those ponies who remained moved in groups, watching the night with fear and suspicion.

“I’ve got—bigger problems right now.” This explained why Peter wasn’t there when she woke up. Less so what the hell he thought he was doing. Maybe he had the same plan about busting Sam and Ruby out of jail? Do a little time to earn some trust, or get close enough to bust the lock. But why not leave a note?

“Your friends,” Hazel said. She settled onto the air mattress, expression unreadable. It always was, on that strange face. “You want to know what’s the fastest way to bust them out.”

“I wanted to get them to go with us into the forest,” she said, quiet. The walls seemed thick enough; she couldn’t hear other ponies. But this was also their first night somewhere. Anyone could be listening. But bureaucracy was never really my strong suit. That’s how I ended up in food service before. I don’t—there’s an important pony in there, the one we really need to make life better in here. For some reason he sprinted headfirst into danger when he got here, and didn’t come out. If it takes weeks to get my friends back—”

Hazel hopped up onto Way’s bed, wings buzzing with energy as she did so. Even so, she kept her voice low. “I might be able to do it. If you don’t think we can wait—”

Wayfinder didn’t know how long Sunburst would survive in the “Overgrowth.” Her friends were safer, though she didn’t like the idea of leaving them to suffer in jail. Once again, the decision was hers:

1. Play it safe, take her time to learn the ropes and follow legal channels to get her friends released. (4+ weeks)

2. Take a risk on letting Hazel do it (1 week)

3. Just go into the forest after class tomorrow and find that damn stallion (1 day)