Portmaster

We slept, him spooning with me, me helping his imagination by leaning into him. I didn't intend to keep his forced chastity much longer. Especially with the many stunningly beautiful, incredibly skilled and mind-bogglingly expensive prostitutes Elysium was full of. All of them real ponies too, doing what they did for own profit, or maybe enjoyment if such was the case. Replicants may not have any competitive streak, but we do have marital jealousy.

A tag popped for a meeting request in my dream, someone politely requesting to speak with me when I wake up. I let the current dream run its course, laughing at Rainbow Dash throwing rusty horseshoes at the old mare. Small benefit of Portmaster leaving his account open to me: I bought myself the complete oneirography of Princess Luna, unlimited license.

With amusement, I realized it was the first time in my actual life (against preloaded memories) that somepony showed the common courtesy of leaving a tag, instead of waking me up forcefully or barging into my dreams.

I decided if they show that much courtesy, I ought not make them wait. The dream was just ending anyway, so instead of picking another I shook myself awake and checked the message.

Oh. Mister Night. Inviting us to meet him at nearest convenience.

I rolled and kissed my stallion's nose. He cracked his eyes open and smiled, then he pulled me with his hooves close. We lay embracing for a while, then we stood up, me dressing up in my Hayburg police armor (do I still have the right to wear it?), him going to the bathroom.

Less than fifteen minutes later we were entering Mr. Night's office.

Besides the big boss, two replicants awaited us; a stallion and a mare. I did recognize the mare from the party with the cops, though I couldn't recall her name.

Mr. Night gave us a gentle smile. "Hello, Mr. Stomper, officer Baton. It seems you two are very well liked around here."

"At least by non-ponies," Portmaster answered.

"That is especially true. These two," he nodded to the replicants, "have got an idea which I think we might roll with, if you approve."

"Let's hear it then."

"I believe you're not too fond of running again, and seeking a safe place all over the universe. Even with a Dart class sloop and a full account, that is going to be rather dangerous. I would be quite happy to let you stay in Elysium, and my only reason for my request for your departure was the pressure... which I believe is about to escalate, to a level I cease to be comfortable with."

"Was?"

"We have excellent plastic surgeons, some very skilled cyberengineers, quality services that would allow you to change your identity making you quite difficult to recognize for somepony who is not looking for you specifically. It's not quite as efficient during a focused search following a reasonable suspicion, as officer Baton could surely attest."

Oh, yes. A simple direct scan against specific file, requiring merely line of sight to the suspect, would confirm real identity in two seconds. Still, it's a "yes/no" match; not a search. You load up the scanner with the selected suspect's cutie mark magical hoofprint and you only get 'match' if the pony scanned is that specific one. Of course stationary scanners at passenger spaceports check you against lists of a few hundreds wanted criminals, but small portable ones let the bounty hunters only identify their specific marks.

"Still, if we manage to throw your chase off the track," Mr. Night continued, "you could live for years undisturbed, providing there is no suspicion that you are yourselves. If they believe you're off-station, while you remain here, you're more than welcome to stay. Now, how to create such a diversion..."

"I see where you're going," I said. "You've got volunteers to play decoys, which the chase would follow, right? But then it will get the bounty hunters on their tails, and I believe we're still just as accepted dead, as alive..."

The mare spoke. "This is true, but this is also our dream. An adventure across space, serving a noble case, with real danger, and a chance for victory - note that if we do manage to lose the pursuit, they will never find us, simply because we are not you. We won't come up as a match during focused search."

"But if you’re caught before that..." Portmaster seconded my doubts.

Mister Night grinned. "Then I will have some serious explaining to do, and you will need to run for real. The only risk is if they are shot dead during the chase, and summarily we're risking less than if I let you two go."

"Also," the stallion spoke, "please don't forget you'd be helping us fulfill our secret wish. We're not just offering. We implore you most sincerely, please let us do it!"

"Baton?" Portmaster turned to me.

I walked up to the two, then poked their chests. "Alright, but no jackassery. No stupid risks. If your grand adventure turns out to be slightly boring, do not try to spice it up. It's a responsible mission you're undertaking. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the two shouted out in unison.

Mr. Night grinned. "Then let's get to it. So far we five are the only who know this plan, and I won't let that circle grow much more. Oh, also, Portmaster..."

"Yes?"

"You'll be posing as a replicant. Easy Trot here flies a ferry to Mars surface and back. Not a dream job but I believe you're quite capable of it. I'll transfer you to something better once things die down a little."

"And me?" I asked.

"Oh," he grinned, "I believe you will like your job. True Strike here is a guard."

* * *

True Strike had to be reflashed. Failed upgrade, a very unfortunate accident during routine maintenance procedures. Complete wipe followed by loading a stock personality and bare scraps of what was left of her original memory.

Also, that reclusive stallion from the ferry was very saddened by the fact that his marefriend hardly remembers him, but she was kind enough to accept him asking her out for a date, giving him a chance to rebuild their relationship.

That was our cover story.

I won't lie, I practically danced through the gardens and streets in my new black plastobsidian armor. I was made to be a cop. I loved being a cop. And Elysium was one of the best places a cop could land a job. Save for the guys' armor thing until recently of course, but the new batch with proper adjustments included arrived just yesterday.

Well, maybe except it was slightly boring. No small-time pickpockets, no illicit media traders, no drunken pilots, at least not inside. I heard the guys from the patrol crafts get a couple of these every day. That doesn't mean there was no crime within Elysium. Come on, it harbored two of most wanted criminals in recent history!

There was plain old peacekeeping - rich, arrogant guests could be just as rowdy as some drunken bottom-scrapers. There was finding these, whose credit ran out, and expelling them in case they wouldn't pay. There was some illicit trade - not much, especially since obtaining a legal trade concession was quite easy and not overly expensive. There were dangerous, illegal drugs sold by some ruthless scoundrel. The good, smart detectives were on their track already. Simple grunts like me kept the streets safe.

Also, there was all the 'legal-illegal'. Some wares would become more desirable with air of unavailability, with thrill of risk, with aura of exclusivity. Elysium had a rather broad underground that appeared illegal to the guests, but in fact ran with complete approval of Mr. Night, and bringing him significant profits. Light drugs not legal in Equestria, dreams banned by Empress Celestia, a secret restaurant with synthetic meat, more 'exotic' erotic pleasures (for a cop who did patrol the Red District, just foals' play.) We'd organize a bust from time to time, paying attention to be inept enough to let all the customers escape through secret exits, and for our pursuit to fail. At times we'd 'arrest' an actor who'd play a straggler to increase the level of thrill, giving the air of legitimacy to our show. Well, just a small quirk of the job. Vastly better than 'service me'.

So, there I was, trotting through a particularly beautiful garden, watching out for troublemakers, being polite to law-abiding citizens. My clock was ticking down the last twenty minutes to my shift end, when I'd meet my love and we'd have a date, and the world was so beautiful I felt like breaking into a song. I had to remind myself, the statute forbade starting song gigs while on duty. Joining one in progress was a different matter.

I turned into a narrow path under some low-hanging willows, enjoying the gentle caress of grass on my hooves, then I slipped under the canopy. The trunks seemed old, older than the station. I wondered what trick allowed them grow so big. Real, natural willows. Probably imported as mature, though still young trees. One of the trunks was branching off into two a short way off the ground and I gave in to a foalish temptation, climbing to the fork between the trunks, then I leaned into one with my back. My gaze wandered up into the multitude of branches, and green of the leaves obscuring the distant roof of the torus with Mars and the stars. I took a deep breath of air.

A corner of something white caught my eye some distance up, in a fork of two smaller branches. Zooming my sight on the object I recognized it to be a corner of a small package. Using my magic I pulled it to me, and unwrapped the plastic, revealing a small bundle of herbs. I gave it a sniff, grinned and pulled comms up.

"Operator, True Strike requesting advice."

"Always for you, good mare," the voice answered.

"What is a guard to do upon discovering a small personal stash of the highly illegal cicute hidden in a public location?" I asked with humor. The genetically engineered plant was deprived of its toxicity but still possessed the strong stimulant properties, making it one of the 'legal-illegal' drugs of Elysium.

"Good work, officer. Place it back where you found it. We'll focus the automatic monitoring on the location and give the owner a small chase when they show up to pick it up."

"Roger that." I chuckled, replacing the plastic wrap and levitating it back where I found it. I jumped off the fork of the tree and made my way back to the alleys of the park.

Some turns, circling some square in the arts district, a stop to help a pair of ponies finding their way to an open-air theatre where live actors played. Classy. Finally I found a teleporter booth and zipped back to the police station. Stripping off the armor, leaving the gun in my locker, shower, report, and I clocked out for the day.

I shuddered, feeling naked out in the open. A Hayburg Police Officer was never fully off-duty, only allowed to strip their armor for sleep, bathing and maintenance. I pondered getting myself a dress. No... I've got a better idea. I'll drop Portmaster... heh, Easy Trot, some hints to let him buy me one.

I took the teleporter to the spaceport, already giddy for meeting my love, his arrival delayed a bit by customers who requested the shuttle to take a scenic route. I crossed the crowded passenger terminal, and entered the service section. Minutes later I was by the pilot check-out point, greeted by a couple other pilots, who were already getting used to my visits. I watched the screens showing the docks, and recognized his shuttle approaching. Last one flying for the dock - other than private crafts, no new arrivals or departures scheduled for another hour. It docked gracefully and I saw the access trotway of hard light extend from the passenger corridor.

I ran to the boarding corridor, allowing the few passengers pass me by, then I stood by the entrance to the shuttle. And there he was, still busy switching lights off, and sweeping trash from under the seats. He smiled cheerfully seeing me. "Give me a minute my sweet, I'll just shut the systems down and we're good to go."

He vanished in the pilot cabin and returned a minute later, as the lights went dim. He stood in the doorway watching me with adoring smile.

His smile died.

A blast tore a huge hole across my chest. A hundred warnings rang out, most systems going offline. There were two things to do.

I slammed my forehoof into an 'emergency lockdown' switch by the doorway. The hard light wall blocked access to the shuttle.

I turned to my assailant.

"Pesky bitch," he muttered and pulled the trigger.

* * *

I screamed at top of my lungs, seeing the gryphon blast my sunshine's head to smithereens with a bolter gun. He didn't bother to stop to pick any proof of his deed. He just shot the body once again, leaving far less than I knew to be recoverable, then hurried away through the corridor.

Then I heard my comms.

"Undock and fly ahead of me."

I was sitting numbly, watching my love's body scattered in pieces across the corridor.

"You are wanted dead or alive. I can pick your corpse out of debris in space."

I didn't answer. The fact his hunter class caravel loomed behind the windows of the tiny shuttle, the fact he bluffed, unable to open fire this close to station, the fact he could still ram into me, it all passed me by. I just watched the pieces of my beloved.

The shuttle groaned in pull of a tractor beam, but being still anchored, it didn't budge.

Neither did I.

A rapid shock shook the craft, the much bigger assailant very slowly rammed its top side, snapping the anchor joint. The violently disconnected sleeve flickered out, and the airlock detecting imminent decompression snapped shut.

I just watched the white door now, completely numb.

Tractor beam pulled the small shuttle and attached it to magnetic clamps of the caravel.

Red and blue flashes of police crafts surrounding the caravel lit up the windows. Had he shot at them, they would make a short story of him, stationary turrets of the station capable of easily obliterating such a vessel. But his activity so far qualified only as property damage, and that could be resolved with a simple fine. He was a pro. He surely transferred the amount. They just escorted him out of the area, and he sped towards the planet.

Within ten minutes we were surrounded by a dozen of police vessels of the Olympus colony. A police transporter took over my shuttle, and the caravel sped away. Not claiming the ten million, not getting a hundred million bounty on his head. Probably out to claim an alternate bounty. Set by... oh, I had my suspicions. But at this point I really didn't care.

Another five minutes later, the surprisingly polite police force of the Olympus Village, a part of Equestrian Commonwealth had me in a tar field set to comfortable levels, and my laws were read to me. I was led to a holding cell, given basic comforts. They tried speaking to me, but I'd hardly speak a word in return.

Supposedly the gryphon stopped at Titan for routine maintenance of the craft, and later he had an accident with fuel leak, hyperjump gone wrong, he didn't arrive at the destination. Probability of rescue: 0.03%. Mrs. Lamia had an accident with a faulty airlock a short time later.

Unsurprisingly, that didn't cheer me up the least bit.

* * *

The lawsuit was short. The condemning recording of my testimony to Baton served as the crown piece of evidence. It would have passed as an accident; nopony kept a close record of replacement of the ancient core memory modules, the crash of the barge would be blamed on a programmer who was long dead by now. It was only my admission - but that was enough for the jury. I didn't fight back, I didn't try to deny it. When asked if I'd do this again given the opportunity, I choose not to answer.

The verdict was unanimous, 'guilty'.

Death sentence by disintegration was to be carried out at dawn.

Before dawn though, Empress Celestia, yielding to public pressure, choose to apply royal mercy. She changed my sentence to lifetime prison. No life extensions, no general amnesties. Just prison to the natural end of my days.

I spent my first year of prison dreaming dreams of Ponyville. The dreams she loved. I learned them all by heart.

Then the prison manager approached me.

"Make no mistake," she said. "I don't give two shits about the replicants. I don't give two shits about the inmates either. But we could really use a 30% bump in efficiency."