Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies

“Third time this week,” muttered Manchu. “CNN is getting to be our best customer. They’re going to be putting in another order in a few hours, so make sure to get the modified drone configured and boxed up for next-day air. Better prep a few of them.”

“Probably should give them a few percent discount,” grumbled Specialist Cho as the image changed to bouncing along the ground. “They let her keep the drones for her unicorn child. They’ll have a full collection by the time the children get back.”

They watched as Derpy brought the damaged drone back to the pony mayor, who rolled her eyes and let her keep the device as expected. Then the scene changed with another ground-level tour of the Equestrian encampment all the way to the aluminum trailer she called home and the cardboard box where the rest of the broken drones had been placed.

“Any update on the two troublemakers in Florida?” asked Manchu. “Either of the groups.”

“We can’t get an agent near Schadenfreude,” said Cho. “Their Secret Service picked up his security and took him to Washington for talks. Apparently, he’s some sort of high-ranking diplomat who works for one of their royalty. He’s been making deals right and left, and they seem to expect a mutual defense treaty by tomorrow.” He checked an entry on his tablet computer. “Much the same for the teams trying to make contact with Trick See and the police officer inside the magical kingdom.”

“They can’t find them? Two alien ponies in an amusement park and they’re hiding?”

“No,” said Cho bluntly. “The police officer sniffed out our agents all night long and Tricks See steals their wallets. Several other countries are having the same issue.”

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 9:05 AM, June 30 2015
  Location: Magic Kingdom, Orlando Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“Looks Italian.” Ben turned the wallet over in his thick fingers. “No cash. Just like the rest of them.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” declared Trixie, who happily pranced in front of him with her tail whisking back and forth. “You humans are just naturally clumsy. I don’t know how you manage to make the clever little birds in that building.” She stopped cold and considered a nearby stand with a long line in front of it. “What’s a Dole Whip?”

Ben had been distracted by handing the wallet to one of the plainclothes security who had been lurking nearby, but his attention returned in a flash. “Ambrosia in a cup. Cut or no cut?”

“No cut, of course.” Trixie began trotting to the far end of the line where a half-dozen children had begun to jump up and down while pointing at the pony. “The line is the best part. Within reason, of course.”

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 9:15 AM, June 30 2015
  Location: Magic Kingdom Main Street, Orlando Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“Whoa, there. Whoa!” Isabella Schwant waved her hands at the crowd like she was shooing back a flock of ducks with much the same effect. “Rose has been taking pictures with all of you for an hour now, and we’re obstructing traffic from people entering the park.”

“Just one more?” Rose Thorn bobbed on the tips of her hooves. “It’ll be really quick, and then we can go further into the park. Everypony line up on two sides here, with a space in the middle. Come on, hurry up and get your camera telephones out. Phillip can’t take pictures of all of you at once.”

The Official Disney World Photographer who had been working his shutter like a maniac for the last two hours nodded in response, shaking his right hand to get a cramp out.

“About that far apart,” directed the reddish female unicorn, as Isabella tried to keep thinking of her. She certainly displayed her police officer roots, because tourists followed her direction like marching soldiers until there were two lines of park guests facing each other, all of whom had a camera in one or both hands. “A little further back, there. Children up front. There we go. Everybody get your camera telephones ready? Okay, start taking pictures…Now!”

Darting from one side of the crowd to another, Rose proceeded down the parallel rows of tourists like something out of a Warner Brothers cartoon, holding two kids by the shoulders one moment, then kissing an older bald man on the cheek while she stole his hat, and putting a young couple in handcuffs after another dash across the line. When she reached the end of the line, she turned to the crowd and took a bow to thunderous applause.

“Okay! Everypony, that was the first part. Now, go across the gap and find the human you took a picture of with me so you can trade photos and introduce yourself to a new friend you made here at Walt Disney World! And have a wonderful rest of the day!”

With a series of bounds, Rose Thorn bounced back to Isabella, taking a moment to get her handcuffs back from the young couple and making a delightful face at a baby in a nearby stroller.

“Overcharged?” Isabella could not resist the minor jab, but Rose merely nodded back with a broader grin.

“Enough love to be dribbling out my ears.”

“Enough to survive meeting with the politicians Trixie was supposed to meet last night?” asked Isabella. “Provided not all of them caught a cold.” She checked her phone messages. “Two more of them just canceled. Summer flu.”

“Doc Stable says we’re immune to just about everything cross-species.” The maroon unicorn took a deep breath. “I suppose, in the name of interdimensional unity. Any idea where Schadenfreude went?”

“Jetted to DC last night with his Secret Service contingent. Sounds like he’s going to be busy for the next few days until they fly him back to your portal.”

Rose slowed her brisk trot for a moment. “Do you think they’d like to keep him?”

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 7:04 A.M. Tuesday June 30, 2015
  Location: Port Canaveral, Royal Caribbean Cruise Terminal, Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

Everything takes longer and costs more.

Dakota determined that the saying did not apply to ponies in a hurry. It was unfair to leave most of their luggage for Agent Anacostia to load into the RV, but by the time Claire had her Carnival Cruise Lines shoulder bag hefted, a dripping wet batpony and a high-speed unicorn had her in a human sandwich and headed down the cruise ship corridor at a gallop. The cruise line employees had adapted to their equine guests, because they lined their path, pointing the way and taking pictures as the ponies ran past, waving or stopping briefly for quick group photos by Dakota as he tried to keep up.

“Thanks for your hospitality! Pictures will be posted to the San Francisco Chronicle website,” he called out over his shoulder as the ponies bolted for the next turn and down the stairs. He got a brief glimpse of the Caribbean Princess gangplank as they ran, and the unruly herd of reporters staking out their obvious exit made him quite glad they were taking an alternate way to disembark. The utility corridors of the cruise ship were markedly less decorated but just as spotless, with only a few of the maintenance crew still carrying equipment out to their vehicles or packing trash into nearby dumpsters in the early morning sunlight when they emerged.

“Oorah! Marine!” called out an enormous fat black man, looking as if he were a driver for a nearby semi-truck. He had his hefty body positioned to cover his pointing finger from the mob of reporters a hundred yards behind him, and a USMC tattoo proudly displayed on the shoulder rotated in their direction. “Other side of the cab. You expecting a couple of Brits?”

“Thanks!” The pony pair made a sharp right turn, hurrying around the side of the vision-blocking semi trailer and almost ran right into an extended passenger van with some redheaded people waving out the open windows. The sliding side door opened, the four of them piled in, and Dakota got the sudden feeling he was surrounded by Weasey siblings.

“James, can’t I drive back?” called out one of them, a bulky young man who was crouched down between two seats.

“You almost wrecked us on the way over,” said another similar redhead. “They drive on the right side of the road here.”

“I better drive,” said Dakota, climbing into the driver’s seat as the current redhead moved out of his way gratefully. “I’m not going to be taking photos during the trip anyway. Which one of you is James?”

“Me.” The young man settled into the passenger front seat and waved a paper map. “We don’t have internet, so I bought a map.”

“I told you to talk to the phone people to get it to work in the US before we left,” said the bulky young man between the seats.

“You gave us less than an hour before we had to catch the plane, Rupert.”

“British phones use a different networking protocol, Widget,” called Dakota over his shoulder as he maneuvered the big van onto the road and started back in the direction of Highway 528. “Can we get introductions, please. I’m starting to think I’m in a family of Weasleys.”

That got a round of laughter all around the van, with James speaking up once he had a chance. “That’s because my big brother over there actually played Ron Weasley in the movies. Say hi, Rupert.”

“Hi Rupert.”

“He’s ducking down because he’s afraid somebody will recognize him, and we’ll get swarmed at Universal. Anyway, the rest of the batch are our sisters, Georgina, Samantha, and Charlotte.”

Dakota gave the rear-view mirror a quick glance since they had gotten into a stable section of traffic. “You missed one.”

“I’m Bonnie,” volunteered the other redheaded girl. “When I heard Rupert was headed to the states to meet an actual unicorn—”

“She twisted my arm,” said Rupert, who had emerged out from behind the seat now that they were on the highway and away from the press scrum. “Literally. Made me buy her ticket. I swear, she’s worse than a real sister.”

Bonnie blushed, which was impressive with her complexion. It probably did not help her embarrassment that she was scratching Widget behind the ears, and that Goose had laid her head in Samantha’s lap beside her for some batpony scritches of her own, with the two other girls impatiently waiting their turn with the brushes that Claire had brought.

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 10:10 AM, June 30 2015
  Location: Universal Studios, Orlando Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

Paul had a good job that kept him on his toes. Normally, the worst thing that would happen in a day was a guest who harassed a cast member enough to be kicked out of the park, which could get sticky if they were wealthy or powerful. Thankfully, he did not have to deal with those consequences. Universal had lawyers. He had his lines to say, a badgecam, and at absolute worst, pepper spray and a taser. Most days the worst threat he had to face was the Florida sun, which made maximum sunscreen a necessity. The mixed group of uniformed and plainclothes security had already gathered together, swapped radio frequencies and sunscreen application in awkward places, and all that was left was the wait for the VIP guests.

He could say “The bathroom is over there” in seventeen languages, as well as “This way sir or madam” in a few more, but the best part of his job was telling his children who he met at work. As much as they were supposed to stay off the internet, or the ‘gaping sewer of depravity and malice’ that he preferred to think of it, the kids knew the names of every social media influencer who got snuck in by the VIP entrance, and treasured the occasional autograph.

You weren’t supposed to get autographs at work, but sometimes if you just happened to be holding a pad of paper and a sharpie while the VIP was standing by the exit, waiting for the car to be brought around…

And as if the thought had triggered it, a stretched van eased its way into the small circle drive at the bottom of the private VIP entrance. The head office had not said exactly who was visiting the park on a private and very much non-publicized trip, but from the number of redheaded young people who piled out of the van, it looked like the whole Weasely family.

And they brought their own Thestral.

To be honest, Paul had not really been keeping up with current events. He had dismissed the ponies, ponies, ponies everywhere ‘thing’ as some sort of media blitz for an upcoming cartoon or Harry Potter film. It had only been a few days since the first report, after all, and he had been fighting a fairly vicious invasion of Japanese beetles in his garden. His wife worked evening shift driving a Disney bus, so their limited time together in early morning and late night was mostly spent doing household stuff, and he had quit trying to keep up with his kids and their wild activities.

The arrival caught him by surprise in the middle of texting the head office to say the VIPs were late, so his cell phone was being held loosely in nerveless fingers as the wave of young humans and equines galloped up the sidewalk in front of him.

“Selfies!” squealed the pink and pale blue unicorn that Paul had overlooked until now. “Everybody get together and we’ll get a picture before we go in. Goose, scoot in there with the guards and here we go.”

He was just a moment too slow to catch his phone as it flew through the air, hovered in front of the mixed group of tourists and Universal security, and stayed there making clicking noises.

“Widget, let me get a picture too. Something a little more serious for the Chronicle. Everybody look up here.” A short-ish dark man with a professional camera scooted forward, taking his place right under the floating cell phone. “Everybody smile. And…um… Goose?”

“Oh, right.” A cool metal-clad hoof gently touched Paul on the bottom of his chin and lifted until his teeth finally made contact. “Don’t worry,” she whispered while smiling. “A lot of humans get caught like that. Widget is a bit enthusiastic. That’s why we were late. We— I mean she saw an antique store. And McDonalds for breakfast.”

The picture from the Chronicle website got posted in their house at poster-size, with Paul’s somewhat stunned-bunny expression right in the middle.

His kids loved it.

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 11:30 AM, June 30 2015
  Location: Port Canaveral, Royal Caribbean Cruise Terminal, Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“If Dakota kept the RV keys in his pocket, I’m going to kill him.” Agent Anacostia trudged through the parking lot with the Canaveral Cruise Line employees tagging along behind her, each of the young men with a luggage cart in that awkward situation where there’s really too many bags for one cart but not enough to make a second seem justified.

“I think I’ve got them,” said the more Dutch-looking porter, who checked his pockets. “They were sitting on the desk when we loaded up the bags, and they’re the only keys I saw. Are you going to be comfortable driving in your condition?”

“I’m sick, not pregnant,” snapped Karla. “I’ve got enough Motrin in me to survive an hour’s drive. Unless the FBI sent another agent to drive,” she added with a quick look around the parking lot and the crowd of incoming passengers maneuvering for a close spot.

“The captain said to do whatever I could to help, and he’d talk to the cruise line. I’ll happily drive if you need it,” said the man. “Anders Hansen. Stock analyst. I’d shake hands, but…”

“Stupid summer flu,” she muttered. “Clyde texted me while I was getting ready. The CDC paid a little visit to Lt. Comena’s parents last night. Said it’s the same strain that was in this year’s flu shot. Which I didn’t get.”

“I did.” Anders unlocked the RV with the key fob and opened the door for her and the baggage handler, who promptly began packing their luggage in a professional manner. “If you give me the address of where you’re going, you can sack out in one of the chairs until we get there.”

“Sounds good.” Karla yawned. “I’m going to need your contact information for the FBI report. Are you going to miss your boat by driving me to Fort Wilderness?”

Anders shrugged once he finished putting his knapsack behind the driver’s seat and settling down to drive. “I need to spend a few days in the condo catching up with phone calls anyway. Besides, the Carnival cruise people sounded very sincere about making sure you didn’t have any issues. Very much so. They’re practically sterilizing the suite you were in, and your trash was being double-bagged and treated like gold.”

Karla winced from the captain’s chair where she had fastened her seat belt and reclined the seat. It was a more stable platform to sleep than the bed, which would send her rolling around every time Anders took a turn. “I bet the CDC— Oh, hell.”

“What?” Anders caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror, but she waved him on.

“It’s not important. Here’s the address at Fort Wilderness where we’re supposed to park. Wake me when we get there, please. And thank you.”

Karla refused to consider what the CDC would think of one particular used item in the trash.

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 1350 Hours 30-Jun-2015
  Location: Camp Rainbow, Randolph Kansas
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“Corporal Frey?” Lt. Comena had been looking forward to sacking out in the barracks tent as close to the humming air conditioner vent as possible, but the look on his driver’s face when he peeked into the tent banished any thought of sleep. “What’s up?”

“Fire extinguisher system on Four-One got discharged,” said Rick. “Thankfully, Stars and Stripes was just shooting still photos instead of video or we’d star on YouTube.”

“Details?” asked Rick with a bit of trepidation since Frey never went into third-person without a reason.

“Lt. Miranda will have a full report eventually,” admitted Corporal Frey.

“Which means you don’t want to say anything that might look different when everything’s filed,” said Nick. “Unofficially, what happened?”

“Lt. Miranda was giving a dog and pony show to the press,” said Rick quietly. “Sergeant Rodriguez was doing a good job of playing Vanna White for the demo. You know, pointing at things being described, working the action on the .50 — unloaded, of course — and holding pieces of equipment. Miranda pointed out the T-handle over the armor skirt, Rodriguez pulled it before anybody could say anything, and… Well, the tank was empty at the moment anyway, so nobody was hurt.”

It was not appropriate officer behavior to beat his head against the wall, and since he was in a tent, it would be more futile than anything. Still, he was the local commanding officer for the short platoon.

“When I get notified officially, I’ll have Sergeant Spasowski pull the FSRS supplemental guide on refilling the Halon system and check for any updates online. I want him to supervise the maintenance crew doing the recharge, and Miranda to observe.”

“Not sure how much good that’s going to do.” The slightly built corporal fidgeted, then quietly took a laptop out from under his arm. “Earlier, I emailed one of my buds back at Ft. Benning. E-4 Mafia and all that. Got curious on how a golden boy… well, girl out of ROTC could get moved over to the Reserves and dropped on us so fast. I’ll just… leave this here, sir. On account I probably shouldn’t be gossiping with the CO.”

Once his driver had excused himself, Nick reviewed the open email on Corporal Frey’s laptop, internally marveling at how fast the informal wheels of the E-4 and E-5 pay grade could produce information that a horde of CIA spooks would take a week to match.

Second Lieutenant Caroline Miranda had a history that roughly read “Some disaster happened, it was not her fault, she got transferred.” Getting a tank stuck during maneuvers was not an unusual event. Sinking one deep enough in the river to flood it was. There were no fatalities in any of the incidents, but the property damage was impressive, and Nick suspected there were a few unlisted incidents that would push the bill higher.

His nap would wait. Time to officer-up, despite how much he would have rather been in Orlando with his buddy Dakota and the hot FBI agent.

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 12:30 PM, June 30 2015
  Location: Wagon Wheel Drive, Fort Wilderness, Orlando Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“Thank you again, Anders. Clyde says you can send your Uber bill to me so you can get driven home, or wherever you’re going.” Agent Anacostia checked her phone and pointed along an unbroken line of full-sized buses and fifth-wheels. It was a good example of Orlando in the middle of tourist season, and she had already been considering just exactly what to do if the mythical RV parking slot was between Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster. “About ten slots that way. At least we’re not driving one of those whales. This thing should back up into the slot without knocking down a tree.”

“The only empty place in the park,” said Anders Hansen as he turned the RV steering wheel. “Is that your friend?”

Karla looked at the hefty black man coming out of a converted bus as the RV swung wide and Anders put it into reverse gear. “The note I got said he’s a judge who reserves two spots for a full week every year, one for him and one for the Marshalls JSD if needed. Slow down backing up, please.”

“Sorry. I normally take a Uber. Haven’t driven in a few years.” The RV lurched going over a curb, and Karla grabbed onto the steering wheel quickly.

“I’m feeling better,” she started, “and the RV is a rental. Get out.”

It took a few minutes for Karla to get the RV backed into the oversized space, guided by the large black man and Anders standing beside him. The groggy feeling leftover from her nap really did not lift until she went into the back to wash her face, blow her nose, and change into comfortable shoes. She had seen the other man somewhere before, but could not immediately put a name to the face.

Until she stepped out of the RV door and came face-to-face with her childhood role model.

“Justice Thomas?” Karla clapped both hands over her face. “I’ve got the flu. Or a cold.”

“The CDC says it’s one of the variants in this year’s flu shot,” said Clarence Thomas, although he had obviously been ready to shake hands until she had jerked away. “The wife and I got vaccinated last year first thing, and from what I hear, the ponies you’re with don’t even need that.” He leaned slightly to one side in order to look past her. “They’re not in there, are they?”

“No, the girls are at Universal.” Karla took a step backward despite herself, still trying to keep one hand over her mouth while she fumbled her phone out and checked the messages. “They’re keeping the internet warm with group texts. And…um…” She turned the phone sideways. “They’re with the Weaselys over at the Harry Potter world place?”

Justice Thomas looked at the photo on her phone and chuckled. “Kids. Yeah, they’re lucky to be out of the line of media fire. The CDC and a number of very serious State Department bureaucrats have been keeping my phone buzzing. Half of them are terrified I’m going to come down with the extraterrestrial crud and die if I even glance at one of your little horse-friends, and the other half sound like they’re looking forward to it. Here. A gift from the government.”

Karla looked at the bag of orange trash bags and miscellaneous supplies Justice Thomas had given her, then looked up at him again.

“Courtesy of the Center for Disease Control and their expense account,” he explained. “Snacks, drugs, cough drops, tissues, extra toilet paper, and biological isolation bags. Tie a knot around one of them and drop it outside your RV door whenever it’s full. They said they’ll cruise by once an hour to pick up ‘biological samples’ and have them tested. Here’s the spare key to our RV if you need anything, and the phone number of the Disney concierge service. Lawn chairs are in the underbelly storage bin, and leave a note if you empty any bottles in the medicine cabinet. We’ll be back before Friday, but your friends will probably be on the road back to the portal by then and we won’t get to see them. Do you have any questions?”

It took a few moments for Karla to look over the immense bus-conversion RV from blunt nose to tail, then look back at Justice Thomas before blurting out, “I didn’t really understand the second part of Zivotofsky v. Kerry. The decision was horribly overcomplicated. Couldn’t you have just ruled that the President has the right to recognize foreign governments in one regard, and the Senate in a different regard, and if there are any conflicts between the two branches, the Executive decision shall be final? It would have been a lot easier.”

“Perhaps, young lady,” rumbled the judge, “but less in line with the Constitution’s text and—”

“Clarance!” A middle-aged white woman emerged from the huge RV, towing a pair of suitcases. “The taxi is going to be here in a few minutes, and the Swan says they can slip us into the pony reception for an hour if we hurry. Then we can still make it to Cape Crossings for Harlan’s cruise down the coast.”

“Beg pardon, young lady.” Judge Thomas moved as if he were going to shake hands again, but Karla recoiled away. “Sorry about that. At least it sounds like we’re going to meet at least one pony before they all go home next Monday. A policemare named Rose Petal, if the calls from the State Department have anything near the truth in them. I heard she was covering for your two ponies and their general fear of the limelight, and I put in a request. When this is all over, give me a ring when you’re in DC next so Antonin and I can talk some sense into your judicial education.”

“I’d be honored,” responded Karla reflexively, giving the approaching dark SUV a small portion of her remaining attention. It certainly looked like the generic US-made transport the Marshalls service used, with a generic US-made Marshalls officer playing cab driver. A few minutes later she was standing all alone in front of the two RVs in the hot Florida sunlight, wondering if the summer flu came with hallucinations.

“Do you suppose Mr. Thomas would mind if I used one of his lawn chairs in the shade here for an hour or so until the lunch rush traffic dies down?” asked Anders, who was standing right beside Karla as if it were her blind spot. “I’ve got my laptop, and Justice Thomas gave us each a signed copy of his book to read while waiting.”

“I…think he won’t mind,” managed Karla. She tapped a phone number out of reflex, and was not surprised a bit when it answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Clyde,” she started with a sniff. “I need to move today’s leave from annual to sick because— Oh, the CDC called already. Yes, that should work as a doctor’s note. Did they mention anything…else? Ah, good. Yes, I should have gotten my flu shot last year. Yes, I’ll get it this year. Anyway, do I need to enter anything into the Sentinel system for the girls today since… Oh, you’re tracking them by social media over at Universal. Good. Well, if you don’t need anything, I’m going back inside, cranking up the AC, and watching the rest of the Harry Potter movies. Thanks, Clyde. You’re an awesome boss.”

Karla put away the phone, plugged the RV into the electrical ‘mushroom’ at the back of the parking slot, and went back inside to prop her feet up. She had already read Justice Thomas’ book several times, but had not caught up on the Harry Potter series so she put the DVD in and relaxed in the captain’s chair while the opening credits rolled.

It was not as much fun as watching a pair of interdimensional aliens run around an amusement park, but it was about time for a break from the insanity.

• - - - ⧖ - - - -
  Time: 12:57 PM, June 30 2015
  Location: 7th Ave and Park Street, Universal Studios, Orlando Florida
  
• - - - ⧖ - - - -

“Are you OK, Goose?” Claire patted the back of the batpony while the front end was inside the stall, making rather loud and quite human barfing noises.

“I didn’t scare her, did I?” asked Tiffany, a little girl with curls who had filled in the empty space in their car for Transformers the Ride. “So sorry I screamed.”

“I think the 3-D glasses aren’t made for Equestrians. Are there any more quiet rides?” asked Goose between retching. “I’m done with roller coasters for now.”

“The other pony went back into the ride. At least you got to the bathroom before throwing your cookies,” said Tiffany. “Is that really the Weasely family outside? I’ve seen all the movies. I thought they’d be over at the Harry Potter section.”

“Rupert said he always spends all day over in that section when he’s here for a publicity trip,” explained Claire. “We’re running around the park in places he’s never really had time to visit before. That way it’s new for all of us.”

“Except for Dragon Challenge,” managed Goose. “That was still worth it. I need to get back in there. Widget’s my protective designee, like Agent Anacostia says.”

“Dakota’s got her, and most of the park security. I think they’re worried she’ll take something apart.” Claire checked her pockets. “I have her Leatherman tool, at least.”

By the time they got out of the bathroom, the other group was long gone to more exciting rides. Claire considered it a reasonable trade-off, since she was feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention. There was considerable cognitive dissonance between seeing somebody in a half-dozen movies, and meeting them in a different role as a Real Human Without a Script.

They still had tourists come up and greet them while traveling from ride to ride, including an elderly couple who seemed absolutely convinced Goose was some sort of actor when they met her next to the Hello Kitty character, who must have been sweltering in her costume.

Little Tiffany stuck to their group like glue, or at least that was the way Claire thought at first. Then she realized Goose Down was herding her slightly with the occasional wing-nudge or shoulder-push. Since there was no sign of the girl’s parents and none of the security along with them were displaying any signs of a lost child alert, it did not seem to be a problem and at least it kept the child out of trouble.

That left Claire to group text Widget whenever they got a few minutes to breathe.

Goose liked Minion Mayhem. You guys still good over there?

We’re hitting most of the motion simulators and avoiding coasters. Picked up a kid. She’s a peach but check back if Tiffany’s parents ask you about her.

Rode Forbidden Journey. Goose is fine, just a little spooked.

Sorry Hulk is closed for refurb. As long as you’re there, get me a shirt please.

Once you get dried out from Ripsaw Falls, we should meet up for lunch.

Ok, once your done with skull island.

since Rupert says the leaky caldron will be packed solid, where do you want to eat?

Simpsons it is. Meet you there.

Tiffany was still right next to Goose when they finished riding more of the kiddie rides in Springfield, meeting up with the rest of the redheaded bunch in a whirl of emotions. It seemed as if they had been separated for days instead of a few hours with as much chattering and laughter was involved.

The whole Weasley clan had swapped out long pants and heavy shirts for shorts and t-shirts somewhere, most probably one of the multitudinous souvenir shops, and Claire suspected one of Universal’s house-elf minions had spirited the replaced clothes back to the van. The staff had likewise cleared out a section of the Krusty Burger for their dining pleasure, although Widget and Goose still darted to the edge of the reserved zone whenever they saw a child in desperate need of a selfie or two. To Claire’s surprise, Tiffany ate an entire Krusty Burger combo for lunch, a task that seemed epic until Claire considered the way Widget and Goose went through three of the Mother Nature bean burger combos, each with shakes and extra orders of cheese fries. It was a rare moment to bond with the Harry Potter actors and their family before they headed out in one giant mob for Men in Black - Alien Attack.

It was not a roller-coaster, so Goose was good with the idea, and Widget was a bit stuffed after lunch, so violent outdoor motion was out for her too.

“When we’re done here, we should probably head back to the Harry Potter area,” said Rupert in the middle of their getting organized to board the MIB ride car. “Universal has a spot for us to sign autographs and get photos, and the fans are always ticked pink.”

“He’s a big softie,” said Bonnie. “Did you know he bought a ‘Mister Whippy’ Bedford ice cream truck back at home, just so he can go hand out lollies and cones for free?”

“I can’t sell them,” protested Rupert. “I don’t have a license. Besides, I seem to remember you lining up with the rest of the cast on the last day of filming when I brought it to the lot.”

“We can go over there, but just for an hour or so,” said Widget. “I get a little twitchy when we get swarmed. And I still want to try out my wand.” She floated a short stick out in her magic and gave it a wave. “Human magic is so different than unicorn magic.”

Tiffany did not seem to appreciate the display, either from the floating wand or the alien blasters on the ride, during which she scored no points at all. Goose escorted her to the bathroom afterward, and Claire was a little worried when the batpony returned alone.

“Where’s the kid?” asked Clarie, looking at the flow of tourists in and out of the ladies room.

“She went home.” Goose shrugged. “Some sort of teleportation device. Are we headed to the Harry Potter section now?”

“Wait a moment.” Claire put one hand on the warm batpony. “Teleportation device?”

“I knew she was an alien when we first met. That’s why I kept so close to her. Probably better to keep all the aliens in the same spot during our visit.” Goose gave Claire a puzzled look. “Didn’t you smell her?”

Scout T’nany emerged from the portation chamber, peeling out of her sweaty human disguise as her commander stood waiting for her report. “The invasion is off,” said T’nany. “I’m going to take a debrading. It’s hot as Msharana-9 down there.”

“What do you mean, Scout?” The commander stopped T’nany before she could slink away. “We have a million troops ready to go—”

“And they have allied with the Equestrians,” responded T’nany immediately. “One of them found me within minutes of my arrival. That alone would put an end to any invasion plans, but if that isn’t bad enough, the videos we intercepted are only the tip of the Schmorak-horn. They have games where their hatchlings are trained to shoot aliens with directed-energy weapons! Small hatchlings! They really do have technology so advanced they call it magic! There’s over a billion of the humans on their planet. Billion! An invasion isn’t practical. We’d be wiped out.”

The scout paused to think. “However, I should return to investigate this place called Disney next solar rotation. They are supposed to be building something called galaxy’s edge, and it sounds interesting.”