May 14, 4:00 PM

Wayfinder’s next week passed without anything remarkable happening. Every other day she had lessons to teach, with ponies practically lining up to fill the room. There were more than just police now: a large number of security personnel and even some locals attended, packing into every seat in the room and overflowing down the hall.

Someone in command got rid of the non-unicorns, though those people were still free to listen over the loudspeakers. By the end of the week, the staff had expensive cameras at the end of the room, and her lessons were broadcasting to other isolation zones across the country.

Way didn’t much care—though the idea of more ponies being able to use their powers and improving their quality of life. Yes, it was true that those benefits would all go to the security people first. But the more ubiquitous this basic pony knowledge got, the more of it would get passed to ordinary people too. Let the whispers spread until they reached other plague victims.

But doing the spreading was not her focus. She still had friends locked in jail for smuggling. Even worse, the pony who was the source of all her magical knowledge had vanished into the “Overgrowth” and still not returned.

Every drop of extra resources and time Wayfinder had were devoted to learning more about her situation, or getting together the resources to free her friends. Or even both, in their time.

Unfortunately, what she learned was neither useful nor encouraging. The “jail” was divided by sex, so Sam and Ruby would be separated. Nor had very many people made it out of their confinement. The exceptionally small number who had ever been released were all ponies who had been captured and held for relatively small crimes; drunks mostly, or those who got mixed up in petty brawls. None accused of anything more serious had even come before a judge yet, much less been considered for release.

There was no timeline for any of the prisoners who got transferred from the little drunk-tank into the prison, and very little approaching “guards” or “law” inside that place. The accused were dumped inside, and given food and water by way of simple biometric bands that shut off if they were ever removed, to prevent prisoners from stealing or harming each other.

From what she could learn, many of the accused had, at worst, committed the same non-crimes as Rose and Sam. All lumped in together with actual killers and similarly dangerous folk—all with no guarantee of the safety of anyone involved.

The entire system was remarkably informal in a way Wayfinder could use to her advantage. They could get their friends free, if only they could provide the right bribes to the right ponies. All Wayfinder had to do was keep teaching the way they wanted, collect her paycheck, and be ready to invest it back into getting her friends free.

The process was slow and painful, knowing there was little she could do to speed it up without being willing to throw her progress away. Despite his other faults, Peter kept his word. He put his own pay aside, days turned into weeks, and they finally had what they needed.

It all felt a little too easy.

Part of her expected some kind of ambush on the day they finally arrived. She had her money—paid in old silver dollars, like the other police—tucked away inside her saddlebags, the same ones she always used to store the laptop when she brought it somewhere. She’d just come from the last class of the day after all, and wasn’t yet comfortable enough to leave the money sitting around in her room for someone to take.

Would they steal from each other? She didn’t know that part yet. But she would soon find out.

Peter was waiting for her near the loading dock, located somewhere tucked away behind the prison. He gave furtive glances to either side as she approached, flicking his tail towards her to hurry.

She didn’t, though. Way took every step deliberately, as though nothing in the world were wrong. He was glaring at her by the time she reached the edge of the building. “Taking your sweet time. What do you think we’re doing?”

She shrugged. “I’m following your lead, that’s what I’m doing. You weren’t even the first person to suggest this. I assume it must happen all the time.”

The metal door beside them rattled open a short distance. Two figures waited there: one pony outline covered completely in heavy cloth, and a stern-looking earth pony wearing a re-tailored version of a prison uniform. He stepped forward past the smaller figure, keeping her covered. “Magic teacher? Shit, what do you want with this one?”

“Should be two of them.” Peter hopped over the ledge, then held out a foreleg for her to climb up behind him. She couldn’t just climb the way a human would, but she could make it up with a good running start, landing in an enormous supply-room.

She slid a short distance before stopping beside Peter, annoyed. From their height and the color of those legs, that could only be Ruby. Which meant they were down one dangerous-looking bird roommate.

“Do you have the silver or no?” the earth pony asked, voice stern. “Would be I can take this one back. Plenty of room.”

As he said it, the pony began to tremble, her voice quavering under the intense pressure. She couldn’t read thoughts, but Way could imagine Ruby’s voice from under there, begging not to be sent back.

She stepped towards the earth pony, and deliberately produced a bright glow from her horn. Not pointed at him, as many ponies had begun to (incorrectly) associate the direction of a horn with what it was about to do. “You want to see silver, I want to see it’s the right one. Or you can go to hell.”

Peter actually jumped—high enough that his forelegs briefly left the floor. He shifted in front of her instantly, shoving her back with surprising force. “Forgive my companion, she’s an imbecile. Loveable imbecile, but—”

The uniformed stallion laughed. He gripped low on the cloth, then tugged sideways, exposing the pony underneath. It was Rose—though her cheeks were sunken, eyes bloodshot, and mane had been cut military short, it was Wayfinder’s old girlfriend. “Academic types. She thinks this is a movie. Double-cross waiting around the corner, right? But she misunderstands. Corruption is a pressure valve, young miss Wayfinder. It cannot serve that purpose when it is a simple vessel for extortion. Well, it is. I would love to extort you for the other one. Unfortunately, I did try to bring him.” He set something on the floor between them: a large plastic bowl with a flat bottom, like the ones used by the TSA when passing through the airport.

He pointed at it with a hoof. “Now, your turn.”

She levitated the bag empty, then peeled aside the little bit of Velcro she’d put in the liner, and extracted the silver coins. There were only a few of them—joined by a few more from Peter. But she supposed it didn’t take very many coins of a precious metal to make a significant amount. She’d never used them before.

She dumped them in, expression remaining harsh. “What do you mean you tried to bring the other one? I thought we were getting two of them out. They didn’t know they had contraband. They’d been living in a cabin in the woods. Neither of them belonged in there to begin with. It’s stupid we have to pay anything at all.”

“Stupid though it may be,” the stallion waited, then nudged the plastic bowl closer. “The world is sometimes stupid. It is not for us to decide. Yet for your sake…” He took the bowl in his mouth, then dumped it sideways into one of his uniform pockets.

Wayfinder had never seen a policeman put anything in those pockets before, except maybe the clip of a badge or radio. Yet from the sound, there were other coins. “He’s not in there. Bastard flew away. No, I’m not shitting you. Get up on something tall and look over the yard when you get a chance. You’ll see there’s a net there now. Wasn’t before. Your friend is the reason why. So I’m keeping the whole fee. That’s for losing his photo.”

Peter whistled. “So the bird was telling the truth. He really could fly.”

“Unfortunately.” The guard reached forward, then clicked something around Ruby’s hooves. A pair of restraints clattered to the concrete floor. “No end of headache for the rest of us. Half the winged inmates have started flapping around like they plan on flying out too. It’s gonna get somebody killed, if they actually hit the net. But technically it won’t be your friend’s fault.”

He flicked one hoof against Ruby’s leg, then turned. “Shame records are so shit in the apocalypse, eh? Just so long as they don’t try to get back any of the seized property, their cases are going to fall right out of the system. No one will be looking for them unless they intentionally stick their heads in shit. If they do, though…” he shrugged one shoulder, then stopped by a control box near the wall. “Get your asses out of here.”

Ruby stumbled her way over to Wayfinder, practically collapsing against her. Way and Peter had to help her out together, stumbling out the metal door. No sooner were they outside than it rattled closed behind them, sealing away the prison interior.

Ruby didn’t say anything, only met Way’s eyes with profound relief, resting her neck around hers in a weak hug. Way stood there for her, as strong as she could. She would ask what had happened in there, when the mare was ready. For now, though, she just stood strong.

“Where are we headed?” Peter asked, looking between them. “Or should I say, where am I leaving you? Back in the barracks, or…”

Way could tell from one look at Ruby that she wasn’t about to supply much of an answer herself. It was up to her.

New Arrival Quarantine. If the system treats prisoners like Ruby, Way isn’t exactly eager to keep working for it. She’ll go back for Hazel, then make a covert exit.
The Barracks. Ruby needs safety and stability above all else. Way already knows having a significant other is allowed. Ruby can pretend while she regains her strength. She certainly knows enough about Way to pull off the act convincingly.