Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the movie Zootopia are owned by Disney the great and powerful. All registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

Chapter title from verse seven of Dylan's When the Ship Comes In.

They'll Pinch Themselves

Nick pulled out his cell phone as the walled city where he'd be headquartered for three weeks came into view, "Better call Judy and let her know she won't be seeing me for awhile."

"Got bad news for you, my new friend."

"Bad news?"

"No cell service."

"No cell service?"

"Nope, that thing is now only good for playing solitaire and for playing music – if you have solitaire and music on it."

"But how do we contact anyone if we need help?"

"Satellite telephone. Theory is that we use it for official business only. Practice is nobody notices a couple short personal calls a day. Behind my seat. You know how to use one?"

"No."

"I'll show you how after we get the truck unloaded."

"Could you show me as soon as we get there?"

"Well, Nick, it works like this. I figure I promise to show you after we unload the truck and it provides an incentive for you to unload faster, and I'm in hammock taking a nap that much sooner."

"No oases visits today?"

"I didn't see anything marked 'Urgent' when we loaded. We'll look a little harder when we unload. Try to limit your call to ten minutes. Fifteen tops. Twenty and someone notices and gets pissed."

"So there's some kind of record of a call being made?"

"Oh... Record of calls made, but they normally don't monitor content. Some brief calls, no one fusses. Ahmed is usually pretty laid back, but long calls will get you in hot water… Well, hot sand. Not much water down here… No long showers in the next three weeks."

No urgent packages were found in unloading. "Leave the phone by me when you're done," Joe instructed. "Theory is, we're on duty twenty-four seven. I get a call every three or four months and it may be time for another."

"Isn't it a little early for sacking out?"

"Never too early to sleep. I bank it, and party for the two weeks after I get home. Explore the station house. Eat anything you find in the kitchen and save money. MRE rations. We brought more. You want something better find the market and pay to eat – we had a couple officers thought they should eat for free."

"I won't make that mistake."

"Good... I can't think of anything else to tell you."

"What time do we go out tomorrow?"

"You're dedicated... Not sure if that's good or annoying. Maybe both. How does eight sound to you?"

"Perfect."

"Good. We'll get along," the camel told Nick before heading to his hammock.


Judy did not answer her phone. She had not been answering her phone since the failed proposal unless she recognized the caller – and the satellite phone was unknown to her. He had forgotten that when he attempted the call. At least his cell phone provided him contact information even if he had no service. He ruled out Susan for the same reason. Judy had once suggested he put her parents' number on his phone – it had seemed like more commitment than he was ready for at the time and he didn't have it. Would Judy recognize Doc Wheeler's number? He scrolled through his numbers a second time. "Not my first choice," he thought, "but probably my best bet."

"First Precinct."

"Ben? Nick here and–"

"Nick? How you doing? Judy said she tried calling you, but she couldn't reach you. Hey, this isn't your regular number… The number showing up looks weird to me. Are you okay? We're all–"

"Look, I need to get a message to Judy, okay?"

"Sure. No problem. I'd do anything for you two. Hey, what that… that pool player said about you and Judy getting married–"

"I can't talk long. Concentrate, I need to leave a message."

"No problem. I'll just… That pen isn't working. Let me… I'm ready."

"I'm out of town for three weeks. I–"

"Three weeks? What–"

"Sahel duty is three weeks in some old city with a funny name. She can get details if she calls the Sahara Station. I'll have two weeks off when I get back. Write this number down, but I don't know about taking incoming calls. It's official ZPD phone and I'm not supposed to talk long. I'll try to give her a fast call later today if–"

"Why did you call me instead of her?"

"She didn't answer her phone. She–"

"I hope she isn't hurt! I should call the hospital and–"

"She is currently not answering her phone unless she recognizes the number. She doesn't know this one. I got to go. Tell her I love her."

"Sure thing, I'll–"

"Bye," Nick hung up.

The fox spent a couple minutes looking around his temporary home. Joe snored in a hammock in the room apparently used by on duty officers. It was not a sizeable room, and the camel snored. A store room was a perfect size for Nick, but had no ventilation. There were two large-size holding cells and two short-sized holding cells. If cells for smalls existed he didn't see them immediately, and it didn't matter. There was a layer of sandy grit on the bunks in the cells, but they appeared little used. He shook the sand off the bedding in a short-sized cell and decided to claim it as his own. He dumped the contents of the duffle onto the bunk. The khaki uniforms didn't fit well, clearly meant for a larger animal. He wished he had his mother or father's skill with needle and thread, the best he could manage was restoring a button. He looked at his regular uniform pants and shirt and hesitated for a moment, then remembered he had never been told he had to wear the olive drab. Pants were pants, and the insignia of the First had been removed from the shirt.

The exotic sights and smells as he wandered the narrow, ancient streets were intoxicating. He wondered why the animals he met stared at him, and then realized that the odors and twisting paths were normal to them, and a fox was a strange and exotic animal. He wished Judy were beside him and they could explore the maze together. Finding the market proved easy. He wasn't sure of his ability to find his way back to the police station at the edge of the large quarter.

The market was huge, a broad lane ran from a major gate to a tiny fountain at the city center. The lane was broad, but certainly not empty. Carts and rickety stalls, and even vendors claiming a piece of open ground to put out a carpet and display their wares crowded the lane. More substantial shops lined the sides, many selling prepared food. Fresh and dried fruits and vegetables, and spices Nick had never smelled before were sold by the vendors in the lane.

Shorts dominated the market, although a few stalls and shops catered to lions and camels. Most of the animals were meerkats and zorillas. Most males, large and short, wore a simple white garment. It appeared to be a long shirt, hanging down almost to the ankles. Headcoverings varied. Nick wondered if the styles indicated anything about the tribe of the animal wearing them. The cloaks and scarves of the female zorillas were colorful. The female meerkats wore more subdued tones on their tunics – shades of gray and brown – but also sported colorful head scarves.

As the fox strolled through the market he noticed the small side streets which branched off. Each seemed devoted to a particular merchandise – a street of potters, a street of carpet makers, copper and tin smiths, tailors... Nick resolved to bring his khaki uniforms in for alteration so they would fit better. And he grinned and resolved to try and find his mother a proper copper coffee pot before he left, remembering a song she used to sing to him and his sister.

On the next street he discovered gold and silversmiths, and once again wished Judy were with him. He looked around one shop, wondering if he might find a gift for the bunny. A ring with an intricate design caught his eye and he examined it more closely.

"The perfect ring for your female," the old zorilla commented.

"Yes... How did you know?"

"You don't recognize... Ah, you are a stranger."

"Yes. So there's something special about this ring?"

"The design. You can find it on other items as well. It is a pledge of enduring love. What size ring do you need? You find no better price in any shop on the street."

"I, uh, don't know what size ring–"

"Bring her in."

Nick returned to the crowded central lane of the market. He suspected that if he followed the side streets away from the market he would come to the homes of the craftsmen selling goods, but he had no interest in the residential district. The strange fruits and vegetables fascinated him. A meerkat stood by a pile of slightly odd tomatoes, hawking them to passersby. The meerkat was especially animated in his gestures, and adept in haggling as Nick watched kilos of the odd tomatoes went from prices between two and five credits.

"A credit and a half for a kilo," Nick called when the vendor was not busy with a customer.

"Ha, six credits."

"One cred, seventy-five."

"You are clearly a stranger here, so you don't recognize their value. But, since you are a stranger, I will give you a generous introductory price, five credits."

"Two creds."

"There are limits to my generosity, stranger. I will forgive your insults. Four fifty."

"I heard you sell them for two creds."

"Your ears are dull. It was three. And that was the family price. You are not family."

"She was a zorilla."

"And now you insult my cousin's choice of female? For that I will raise the price."

"Serious question," Nick asked. "I can't understand why people are buying tomatoes by the kilo. Are they good for sauce?"

The meerkat gave him a puzzled look. "Tomatoes?"

"Those things you're selling... You don't call them tomatoes here?"

"You really are a stranger," the meerkat sighed and tossed one to Nick, who gave it a sniff. "Bite it."

"What–"

"Eat it."

Sweet juice filled Nick's mouth as bit into the fruit. His eyes opened in surprise.

"Persimmons," the laughing vendor explained. "Now, give me your market cloth and three creds for a kilo."

"Market cloth?"

"How do you expect to take... You really are a stranger."

"Just got here."

"Timon," the meerkat said by way of introduction. He pointed to several shoppers around the market. "Market cloths." They carried squares of cloth, like large handkerchiefs, although they appeared to come in different sizes. Purchases were put in the center of a cloth, the corners tied together, and it became a shopping bag. "Fabric sellers are two streets in that direction, on the left. Tell the zorilla in the shop with the red awning that Timon sent you. She'll give you her best price on a full set. Do you need a place to lay your head tonight? I can tell you the places to ask – and where you should not ask for lodging."

"I'll be sleeping in a cell at the police station," Nick told him. He laughed at the meerkat's response to the claim. "The door will be open, I'm a police officer."

"You are the oddest camel I've ever seen. Do you have a name, Mister Odd Camel?"

"Nick, and I'm a fox."

Forty minutes later, with his market cloth weighted down with half a kilo of persimmons, Nick found his way to the bar he had been warned about. It took Nick's eyes a moment to adjust to the shade after stepping in from the outdoor sun. He heard a voice, "Ah, a stranger in a strange land," and became aware of a middle-aged zorilla sitting at a bar. "Welcome to my humble establishment. You are an unfamiliar face."

"Just arrived in town. You're Rick?"

"If you want me to be. The name came with the place when I bought it and I didn't want to change the history or letterhead on the stationary."

"Understood. There were a couple times in my own life when I was Rick, I found it expedient."

"Ah, if you have felt a need to change your name and move here for your health the white house is an excellent location."

"I hear the waters are very good."

"They are indeed, I answer dryly. But, on a serious note, it is a town in which one may lose himself quite easily. The local gendarme is a camel, and never puts his nose in here. We have a range of drinks–" he turned and made a sweeping gesture at the bar, "both local and imported. Should you feel lucky there are games of chance and skill in the back."

"Before you say more, perhaps I should tell you, I'm a gendarme."

"You're not a camel."

"I had not noticed, I answer. But seriously, we're now an equal opportunity police department."

"I was, um, just kidding about the gambling, I swear nervously."

"Sure… Look, I really don't care – as long as the house isn't cheating."

The zorilla drew himself up proudly, "It is a poor house that needs to cheat in order to profit."

"Exactly, so as long as everyone's happy… Just keep it quiet."

"Of course… And, should you want to check out the honesty of the games I will give you money to play with. If you lose it goes back to me. Should you win, you are free to keep the difference."

"No thanks, that sounds vaguely like a bribe."

"Am I losing my touch? Of course it was a bribe."

"Don't want it. As long as you keep things quiet I'm fine. Should I ever choose to play I'll use my money… Any chance of Hold 'Em with a low stakes buy-in?"

"A couple times a week… Although you need to tell me your idea of low buy-in. Private parties, but I can introduce you, if you wish."

"No hurry. I'm just telling you my game for sometime in the future."

"If I can't offer you a bribe, may I offer you a drink?"

"I think that could be viewed as local hospitality. Thanks. You said local stuff?"

"Various local brews. You might like the bitter fizz."

"Bitter fizz?"

"Date wine is distilled to alcohol, and lions age it with lemon slices – but no sugar. A shot of bitter lemon, a spoonful of date sugar, and fill a tall glass with seltzer."

"Ice?"

"Not here. The solar panels let us store enough power to run the lights and a cooler, but not enough for a freezer."

"No problem. Oh, Rick? What's your actual name?"

"Louis, and your actual name, Rick?"

"Nick."

The zorilla tending bar had heard the offer and prepared the bitter lemon fizz, and refilled the boss's glass. The two animals sat on bar stools and Nick raised his glass for a toast, "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. May I never visit within my official duties."

"May I see your face only when it brings me profit. Tell me, are you an additional officer? Will there be two here? Will something different happen with the camels?"

Nick shrugged, "I may be taking over from the camel who brought me. Do you know Joe?"

"By face and name only, he is seldom seen around the city."

"He's a fan of sleeping. How old is this place?"

"I'm not sure. The original Rick owned it almost a century ago, for some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I've no desire to be disloyal it has been run by a Rick ever since."

"The drink is good. How's the food?"

"Because you are my friend I will tell you the truth. Don't eat here if you have a choice. The food is better in the market. Good chefs are hard to find."

Nick noticed an old piano to one side of the dining area, beside a large set of shelves piled high with what he suspected was sheet music. "Is there entertainment? Does the piano work?"

"I fear it is more of a squatter in my establishment than an employee. It is an old piano, but in good repair. The original Rick had a talented pianist named Sam… And as all proprietors are named Rick so is each pianist named Sam… It just makes things easier for the old drunks when they need to request a song. Our last pianist keeps the instrument in repair and tune, but his arthritis is so bad he no longer plays."

"Is that sheet music?"

"Yes."

"How old?"

"I've really paid no attention. My Rickhood is somewhat recent."

"May I look at it?"

"Certainly. Do you play?"

Nick hesitated, "Not really. Several years of lessons when I was young."

"You should have kept it up."

"Story behind that… Two stories behind that."

"And both are true, of course. You can't manage a third?"

"I could if you gave me a minute. The lessons were given by a friend of my mother. When my father died money became tight, and while the friend might have given them to me for free, my mother was too proud for charity."

"I am sorry for your father."

"And the other story is that my teacher told me that, if I worked hard, I would become a good piano player – but not a great piano player. I, of course, became discouraged. I wanted to be the greatest piano player ever. But I did not want to work hard."

"If you want to play the instrument you are welcome."

"I doubt anyone would want to listen."

"Play for yourself. Let me hear you."

They walked to the piano and Nick began thumbing through the music, "Wow! Oh… This is… This is a time capsule. I collect old records - seventy-eights. That means the record–"

"I know what it means."

"Sorry. There is so much here I recognize. There are classics here."

"Try something."

The fox sat down on the bench and apologized, "Been years since I was at the keys, and I wasn't a great player."

"Just try something."

The zorilla listened attentively. "I think customers would like you. Feel free to play anytime. We start getting customers as the markets close and are busy by dusk."

"I'm not ready to play for an audience."

"You are welcome to come by any time and practice. Perhaps if you get your confidence up you might try."

"Perhaps," the fox agreed.


Judy had partnered with Gannon that day, since his partner was on vacation. Gannon was a careful and methodical plodder. His patience insured he would always solve a crime eventually – as long as it required no imagination. If the criminal showed any creativity Gannon was out of his element. Fortunately most criminals had even less imagination than the detective. Neither was his sense of humor well developed. Gannon was a dedicated, honest, hard working detective, and a bit of a bore. The pair returned to the First after dropping off evidence gathered at a murder scene at the crime lab.

Ben Clawhauser waved frantically as they entered, "Judy! Message from Nick!"

The rabbit ran to his desk, "Really? I've tried to call, he didn't– He called you and not me?"

"He said he tried to call you, you didn't– Something about no cell coverage. It was a weird number he called from–"

"Did you copy down the number?"

"Sure." He slid the piece of paper with the number to her and she put it into her phone."

"He, uh, said it was some official police phone or something. He wasn't sure if he should take incoming calls. He'll call you back when he can."

Judy hesitated, she wanted to call. But if it was official police phone maybe she should wait until he had a good time to call her. "What else did he say?"

"He's at some place called Say-something for–"

"Sahel, he's in the Sahel district."

"He said he'll be there for three weeks."

"Three weeks?"

"It's what he said. He said call the Sahara Station and they can give you details."

"Three weeks? I'm calling Sahara Station. Did he say anything else?"

"He said he loved you."

Although details were scant Clawhauser texted them to a few of Nick's friends at the First – he had learned to not send texts out to everyone. It was an excellent statement of the facts as known, he didn't make guesses, suggestions, or amplifications. It was the classic, 'Just the facts, Ma'am'. Some of those who received the texts wondered if Ben was covering up details to keep them from worrying about Nick. What would be so bad the cheetah would be afraid to include it? And when they told colleagues where Nick had been sent their guesses and assumptions were sometimes added. And the additions were sometimes embroidered further in later retellings. In the more extreme versions Nick was chained in a dark cell and only allowed bread and water until after the election.

The news media did not repeat the wild rumors, but did report that mayoral candidate Nick Wilde had been sent to the ends of Zootopia territory for a three week tour of duty. Even the truth was enough to provoke broad outrage against the Mayor. Lionheart did not like bad press coverage, and did not wait for the polls to tell him how the public had reacted to Nick's exile.


The top items on the Mayor's agenda the day after the story broke were to have his secretary call a press conference, and to call the Police Commissioner and inform him that he would be speaking at the press conference, and should be prepared to give the public a very good reason for what had happened to Nick.

At ten, with cameras and tape recorders rolling, Bash Mustapha addressed reporters at City Hall. "Officer Nick Wilde has an exemplary record with the First Precinct. His demotion is in no way a reflection of his job performance and should not be interpreted as punishment. His recent high profile activities did cause his paperwork to be reviewed and–"

"Who reviewed it?" a reporter called.

The Commissioner ignored the question, "certain irregularities in his promotion to detective came to light. There are some very specific requirements for promotion to detective. Because of Officer Wilde's work in solving the Night Howler Crisis, for which the city is certainly grateful, he and Officer Hopps received their promotions. Now, since Officer Hopps was a member of the ZPD when she performed her heroic actions they could be considered as a factor in her promotion. While Wilde was no less brave he was not a member of the ZPD at the time, and his actions should not have been taken into consideration."

"So how come he was made detective?"

"His promotion was an error on my part. The city was justifiably grateful for his work, and I did not pay close enough attention to the details at that time. His fellow detectives report he performed his job well at the First, but the Police Department needs to be in the business of keeping its own rules rather than breaking them. For this reason he was reassigned to the appropriate rank."

"And why was he sent into the middle of nowhere?"

"As the ZPD has expanded the number of short officers their value to the Police Force is becoming more obvious. All Precincts have requested the assignment of more shorts. You can verify that fact by calling any precinct in Zootopia. The Sahara Station, informally known a the Camel Corps, interacts with a number of short species and has been requesting a short officer for Sahel duty for months. Rather than assigning a recent graduate of the Police Academy to this unique position I thought a seasoned officer would be more appropriate. Officer Wilde is a fine police officer and will, I am certain, perform his duties with excellence."

"You're telling us that the fact he is running in a recall election against the mayor had nothing to do with his demotion and being sent to the desert?"

"Only in the sense that it brought the irregularities of his promotion to light. It was not a punishment, it was a correction to bring his rank back in line with what it should be. And the Sahel is not a punishment, it is a challenge that required an experienced officer of Wilde's calibre."

"Does seeing the value of short officers mean small officers should be considered?" a reporter could be heard shouting, among the chorus of other questions being hurled at the Commissioner.

In the Mayor's office Lionheart and Deering watched a live broadcast of the press conference.

"Do you believe him?" the lion asked the Assistant Mayor.

She hesitated, then answered, "No. Do you?"

"No. And when he makes a mistake it looks like I make a mistake."


A camera crew waited outside the First, hoping to get an opinion from an officer. The uniformed officers tended to wave them away with, "No comment. Got work to do."

A female panther leaving the building caught the television reporter's attention and he tried again, "Excuse me, do you work here at the First?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask your name?"

"You just did. My name is Lylah Nyte."

"Ms. Nyte, I'm wondering if you can give a statement about the opinion of officers here at the First on Nick Wilde's reassignment. Do you know Detective Wilde?"

"I've worked with him. He did some of his initial training as a detective with me."

"The claim has been made his promotion was premature. Would you agree with that?"

She hesitated, "When he first got here, that was my opinion too."

"And your current opinion of the Detective?"

Nyte slowly exhaled, "Wilde and I don't always agree. But he is a damn fine officer."

"And when you say you don't always agree?"

She waved it off, "You get along with everyone? Maybe the fact he's a short. Maybe fact he's canid and I'm feline. Nothing important."

"What is the feeling here at the First on his demotion and reassignment?"

"I can't speak for everyone at the First."

"Can you give us your opinion?"

"It looks like undeserved retaliation to me. Early promotion or not, he deserves the rank of Detective and I'm glad we got him here at the First. Busting him and sticking in the desert sounds like an attempt to muzzle him. I look forward to his reinstatement."


Detective Nyte's comments were played several times in news broadcasts, and went viral on the web, along with details of her own distinguished career as a detective and the firsts she had obtained as a female detective.

The next morning Clawhauser looked worried as Nyte came into the station. "There's fallout over your comments yesterday. Bad fallout."

"Why? I say anything wrong?"

"I don't think you said anything wrong. But you rubbed some big shots the wrong way."

"What can they do to me? It's not like anyone can claim I got promoted too fast."

She learned what could happen ten minutes later in Alces office.

"That's crap!" she shouted. "I did not endorse Wilde for mayor!"

"I never said you did! And don't turn this into a shouting match."

"Why the hell not! You're telling me I've been busted – after all I've done – for telling the truth?"

"You were on duty and–"

"What does that have to do with anything? The rule is that officers, in their official capacity, can not endorse political candidates. Period. It doesn't say we aren't allowed to hold opinions. And I sure as hell didn't endorse Nick."

"I know that! And I've–"

"Filed another fucking grievance? So maybe I'll be back where I belong eventually?"

"No, I've asked the press to come to the First and I am making a statement, saying that I believe you are being treated unfairly and that there was no merit in the accusation against you."

"You're doing that? But, you could get–"

"And every other detective in the First has asked to go on record the same way."

"Every…"

"The Commissioner will have trouble keeping the First open if he demotes us all."

"I, um, wish to apologize for my language and tone earlier. It was inappropriate for your office."

"No problem, under the circumstances."


The story went out over the media even faster than Nick's assignment to the Sahel, and the response was even more devastating. Mayor Lionheart hoped he had misheard the story on the radio, and called in Assistant Mayor Wilma Deering. She confirmed the story, but he still could not believe it.

"Commissioner Mustapha did what?" Lionheart repeated in disbelief.

"He demoted the highest female detective in Zootopia, and now the entire First is in open rebellion."

"Define open rebellion."

"A captain called a press conference – a captain – and denounced her demotion as unjust. Two other captains joined him. Every other detective at the First has signed on to a statement calling the demotion wrong and retaliation. The news stations are playing Detective Nyte's comments about Wilde almost constantly. She condemned his demotion and being sent away, but she didn't endorse him."

"And she is senior female detective in the ZPD?"

"She is."

"Are they playing the full clip? Could she have possibly said anything else?"

"The camera crew swear it's every second of tape. There is no endorsement."

The lion closed his eyes, and a pained look crossed his face. After a minute he opened his eyes. "This won't go away, will it?"

"No, Sir."

"And waiting a day to see what happens will only make it worse?"

"Probably."

The Mayor sighed, "It doesn't matter who he's married to. Any chance you'll call Bash and tell him I need his resignation within the hour?"

"I think you should make the call."

"I suppose you're right. Call Quale, I need him here stat for how we handle this."


Deering suggested the resignation of the Commissioner could provide a reason to torpedo the recall campaign. "Now that Commissioner Mustapha is out you could ask the City Council to work towards creation of a police force of smalls. Wilde says it is the only reason he is running"

Lionheart sighed, "No, I can't. First I'm not sure if it is the right time. Maybe I should have read the Task Force report, but the damn thing is so long! And it would look like I flipped my position, caved in to pressure. Voters would rather have a Mayor who's wrong than a Mayor who changes his mind or lets others pressure him into a position, right?"

"Or a Mayor who changes her mind," the Assistant Mayor corrected him. "Sadly, you are right."

"And it would look like I relied on the department heads to do my thinking for me… Any way you look at it, it would look bad, and I don't want to look bad. No, got to stay the course."

Deering looked at the campaign manager, "There must be some positive spin you can put on this."

"I... Of course!" He turned to the Mayor and extended a paw for a congratulatory shake, "Congratulations, Sir, brilliant move! Serving the city is your highest priority, and you demand it of all department heads as well. While you appreciate the loyalty Bash Mustapha had towards you, you felt he had compromised his position by trying to work for your re-election. Your devotion to the city is so great you let him go for letting politics interfere with performing his duty. You come out of this looking better than ever."

"I like it," Lionheart murmured.

"What do we do with Nyte and Wilde?" Deering asked.

"Can't bring them back too fast," S. Quentin Quale muttered, "Would look like caving in."

"It is the Commissioner's job to deal with the issue," the Mayor pointed out. "And we currently are without one. And the position will be left open until after the election. I will recommend that, once the post is filled, Nyte be returned to detective – along with any difference in lost salary... Wilde..."

"He always talks about the value of the ZPD," Deering pointed out. "That's why he didn't take a leave of absence to campaign. So, whether the assignment was retaliation by the ex-Commissioner or not, his current work is important. He gets two weeks off when his Sahel shift is over, the election would be while he's doing his week at the Sahara Station. If Lionheart is re-elected–"

"I will tell the new Commissioner his first priority is to restore Wilde to detective rank at the First... Hmm, scratch that. First priority is to restore both Nyte and Wilde. Can't make it sound like restoring the male is a higher priority than restoring her rank, that would be sexist. They are both good detectives."

"That will play well with the voters," Quale predicted


Lionheart smiled that afternoon as he faced the press. He knew many of them were hostile to him at the moment, but felt confident he would have most of them on his side by the end of the conference.

"I have asked Bash Mustapha to tender his resignation as Police Commissioner. I asked with a heavy heart. Bash is my friend. I feel he did an outstanding job as Police Commissioner for most of his tenure. And the reason I asked for his resignation was for the loyalty he showed to me. I believe his recent actions in regard to Detectives Wilde and Nyte were inappropriate, but were done in a belief they would help me in the recall election. The Police Commissioner's highest duty must be the best interests of the city of Zootopia and the Police Department – and making certain there is no conflict between what is best for Zootopia and best for the Police Department. In doing what he believed was best for me he politicized the office, and that is why I asked for his resignation."

"What about Wilde and Nyte?" someone yelled.

"Before I address that important question I will make a confession. It was on my request that Commissioner Mustapha appointed Nick Wilde as detective. I felt the city owed him a debt of gratitude for his efforts on the city's behalf. If my request was inappropriate Bash should have told me that at the time."

"So what are you going to do for them now?" was repeated with other reporters murmuring appreciation for the question.

The mayor managed a small chuckle. He hoped it sounded like a sad chuckle. "In regard to Detectives Wilde and Nyte I sadly find myself in something of a Catch Twenty-two. I want them both returned to their appropriate ranks – and make no mistake, in my mind I am fully convinced Detective Wilde has earned his position – but it requires action on the part of the Commissioner of Police, and at the moment Zootopia has no Commissioner of Police. And frankly, given the closeness to the election I think a hurried appointment, getting the candidate vetted properly, and having him or her approved by the City Council would mean it would not happen until after the election. If Nick Wilde is elected, I want him to have a free hand in appointing a Commissioner. If I am re-elected I will tell the new Commissioner that re-instating the two detectives, with any difference in salary being restored, is to be day one priority."

"Will you bring Detective Wilde back from the Sahel?"

"Once again, I do not have that authority. Detective Wilde did not ask for a leave of absence to campaign. He has always maintained that serving the ZPD is an important job, and I applaud his devotion to duty. He will remain in his current position for now, but will have two weeks without any police duties on his return. To help even the playing field slightly I pledge to make no personal appearances or speak for my re-election campaign while he serves in the Sahel. Only after he returns and is able to speak on his own behalf will I do any campaigning."

"You'll suspend all campaigning until he's back?"

"I'll suspend all personal appearances on the recall until his return. Both of our campaigns will continue to run those ads the animals of Zootopia so love to watch – and pay for the time and print space that make your advertising departments happy."

There was laughter from the reporters, and Lionheart smiled. Even if he was not making personal appearances on his own behalf he would remain in the public eye as mayor, but at least he would be spared a couple weeks of the exhausting campaign circuit. And if he refrained from saying anything about the recall the commentators would compliment him in the news broadcasts for keeping his promise.

"Now, are there any brief questions." He had to take two or three before the question S. Quentin Quale had planted in a friendly reporter was asked, "You said you asked for the Commissioner's resignation because he was politicizing the ZPD, and you thought that was wrong?"

"That is correct."

"Is Officer Wilde–"

"Detective Wilde, please."

"Is Detective Wilde making the expansion of the ZPD to include smalls his highest priority in this campaign an example of politicizing the ZPD?"

The Mayor gave his rehearsed shrug, "Detective Wilde and I might have different views on that subject. You can ask him on his return. I am now entering my promised personal silence in regard to the election. Thank you all for coming." He gave them a broad smile, an honest smile, the seed had been planted which called Nick's campaign into question.


Alces glared at the bunny, "I don't like last minute requests like this."

"I understand. I don't like making a last minute request like this."

The moose stared at her for a minute, then grinned. "We're even. Get out of here."

Judy took a deep breath as she stood at the front of the First. She mentally reviewed all she had packed. She felt confident she hadn't forgotten anything. Four purchases left to make, and trips to two rental agencies to pick up the items she had reserved. And directions. She definitely needed directions.

The satellite phone rang as Joe and Nick visited a meerkat oasis. "Excuse me," the camel apologized to the sheik and left the conversation to answer the call. Nick continued the chat, and finished the paperwork for transporting some produce to the market. "Call for you," Joe yawned as they left. "Personal call. Told her to not make it a habit, but at least it was quick."

"Her? What did she say?"

"I didn't... No, guess I didn't. Gate into the large quarter?"

"What about it?"

"Be there between three-thirty and five."

"Why?"

"That was the message."

Nick glanced at his watch. There were two more stops scheduled, and they would probably be back to headquarters near four. They were back at three-forty, and Nick changed to a fresh uniform after helping unload. He wanted to think the call had come from Judy, but was afraid to get his hopes up. The fox waited, and waited. At five-seventeen he heard the sound of an engine and a dusty figure on a dusty motorcycle crested the hill and headed for the city. He watched as the cyclist rode to the gate.

The short rider stopped the motorcycle in front of Nick and took off her helmet, exposing a grimy rabbit. "Hey, Mister, you order a pizza?" She gestured to the back of the cycle, where a take-out pizza box was fastened down with bungee cords to the rack over the full panniers.

The fox laughed, and gave her a long kiss.

"I got dirt on you," she apologized as the kiss ended.

"It doesn't matter. You'll be happy to hear that when you weren't with me, I realized how much I love you."

"Idiot."

"I say I love you and you call me an idiot?"

"You said you realize you love me when I'm not with you. I can know how much I love you when I'm with you. Now, let's open the pizza – so we can enjoy after pizza sooner." Opening the pizza revealed that... "I should have covered the box with plastic wrap of something. I didn't realize all the dirt and sand I'd have to ride through.

"I didn't know you could ride a motorcycle."

"Sure. We had a small bike on the farm. I rode some bigger ones on the Burke and Hare track – I've never written this far before. I'm a little sore."

"We're going to have to enjoy the après pizza without the pizza... We can wait... How long do I have you? Please, please tell me you're not going back tomorrow."

"I'm taking vacation time. I'm here as long as you are."

He grimaced, "I'm on duty, I can't spend all day with–"

"I was told to bring books. I'll just relax until you're back. And what do I get for pizza delivery this far out. I expect a... Anything I say about getting a big tip from you will probably be twisted into something dirty or suggestive, won't it?"

"Why limit me? I could interpret it as dirty and suggestive, but I'm sure a well-brought up bunny would never mean it the way it sounded."

"I'm assuming I can stay at the station with you."

"Um, probably not. Joe has the room with privacy. I'm sleeping in a cell, and it is too open for what I have in mind doing with you. But I know someone who might know where there is a room for both of us."

"Good. Oh, I have a ton of news about stuff happening in Zootopia. Maybe I should get settled first, it might take awhile to tell you everything."

They walked the bike in to the station and Nick helped Judy unpack and arrange what she brought. She looked over his belongings.

"You brought a dinner jacket?"

"No, had it made. There are good tailors here, and they work fast and cheap."

"So… You're taking me someplace fancy when we get back?"

"Uh, actually it's for my evening job here."

"Evening job? Seriously?"

"I've always been a hard worker. And I have a lot of time to kill, Joe sleeps when we aren't on patrol."

"So… You're a waiter of some kind?"

"Would you believe I play piano at a bar."

"No, I wouldn't. What are you doing really?"

"I play piano."

"You play piano? Why did you never tell me?"

"Because I don't play very well. Silence is better than a really bad piano player. I'm better than silence... Maybe not by much–"

"I bet you're wonderful."

"I bet I'm not."

"I'll know when I hear you."

"You think I'm going to play when you're here? We have better things to do."

"We can't have sex every minute you're off duty."

"Why not? Oh, and in theory I'm always on duty. I know we swore to never fool around while on duty, but I think we might make an exception in this case."

"Nick, I'm serious. I want to hear you."

"No way, it would embarrass me to play for you."

"You play for other animals."

"They don't know me."

She looked up, "Plllleeeeaaassssse?"

"Don't give me bunny eyes! You'll make fun of my playing."

"I'd never make fun of my big strong fox."

"I won't play in... Do you sing?"

"I was in chorus in middle school and high school, I... I don't sing."

"You just said you did."

"I was in chorus. I was never given a solo. Never. I don't sing."

"I'll play the piano for you, if you sing for me. No sing, no piano."

Judy's eyes narrowed, "You know I can't resist a challenge, don't you."

He shrugged, "Makes no difference to me. Those are the terms. I'm happy either way."

They headed to the market. Judy was as impressed as Nick on his first visit, and drew as many stares. "We're looking for a room at the market?" Judy whispered.

"We're looking for someone who claims to know where to find a room." They stopped by a vendor and Nick pointed at a basket. "Know what those are?"

"Persimmons."

"You knew? I thought they were tomatoes?"

"City animal," Judy chuckled.

"Weird tomatoes, they look like weird tomatoes!"

"They look like persimmons, very good persimmons."

"Farm animal," Nick snorted. "Think you know everything." He called to the vendor, "Hey, vendor I've never seen before, I'll pay five creds a kilo for the persimmons, and not a cent less."

"Forget it, stranger who I have never seen before. You shall pay three creds a kilo, and not a cent more."

Some other animals left where they were to come and listen.

"Five and a half creds! Five and a half cred a kilo and no less you lunatic! Look at the beauty of these persimmons – easily the finest in all the market. And if the finest in the market here then the finest in all the world. You are insane if you take less."

"A robber like you calls me insane? It is a compliment from your unclean lips. Two and a half creds a kilo and no more. They are good persimmons, but not as good as the last I brought to the market – and those still ripening on the tree that I shall bring next time are even better. Two and a half!"

"Six credits! The trees growing the fruit are so beautiful that the stars themselves are in awe of–"

"The moon as well."

"Indeed the moon and stars are in awe of the trees which grow such wondrous persimmons," Nick looked at the crowd, "They are picked at the moment of perfection by his virgin sisters, that no hint of contamination would taint their wondrous flavor. Six credits a kilo!"

"Two creds! Two credits a kilo or I shall take a stick and drive you from the market for insulting me!"

The two argued for another minute, escalating the threats leveled against the other. Timon broke first, and started laughing.

A zorilla female whispered to Judy, "Those two are the best act in the marketplace."

Nick took a deep bow, "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. Matinees on the weekend."

"And for those of you wanting the finest persimmons in the market," Timon promised. "Three creds a kilo."

Nick helped weigh persimmons. He tossed one to Judy who hesitated a moment, and then bit into the delicious fruit. With the basket empty Nick explained to the meerkat, "I need a favor."

"For you, my friend, anything. What's the problem?"

"Judy came down from Zootopia to see me. We need a place for us to stay while she's here."

"A place for the two of you?" He looked back and forth. "What is she?"

"I'm a rabbit," Judy answered for herself. "And you are?"

"Timon… This is a little… unusual. Let me think of someone with a room to let who…"

"Would it help if she is a police officer too?"

The meerkat shrugged. "I do not think so. Let me put away my things and we will visit a place or two." The first place simply refused to rent a room, the second charged more than Timon said was proper, but it was still cheap by Zootopia standards. Judy was shocked by the limits to water use.


As they walked back to the station for their belongings Judy told him of events in Zootopia – Detective Nyte's demotion, the Commissioner's resignation, and the Mayor's pledge not to campaign while Nick was gone. She finished the narrative with a question, "Do you think if Lionheart is re-elected he would really tell the Police Commissioner to re-instate you and Lylah?"

"I'd bet money on it. He's not the brightest animal in Zootopia, but keeping his word means everything to him. If he says he'll do it, he will do it. Of course, that doesn't mean a new commissioner would follow Lionheart's suggestion."

"And Lylah really could be the next Commssioner?"

"Did he say he would nominate her?"

"No..."

"Exactly what did he say?"

"He said her name was on the list of possible candidates."

"Doesn't mean anything. But if he uses his brain he should consider her for the job. She'd be great."

"Nick Wilde! I don't think you and Lylah dislike each other nearly as much as you claim."

"We don't like each other, but we respect each other. And if she gets moved to City Hall she is out of my fur."

Judy kissed his cheek, "I'm telling her you think she'd do a great job."


They decided to postpone their celebration of being together until after a visit to Rick's. Nick put on his evening clothes. Judy had packed for a casual vacation, but put together the best outfit she could with what was available. He offered her an arm as they entered the old night club. Strange cries were directed at them, at least strange to the ears of the rabbit.

"Sam!" "You're late." "Play it again, Sam – you know the one I mean."

"Sam?" Judy whispered.

"Me."

"But–"

"Louie already had reserved Rick, and Sam was the only name available."

"Will you tell me or not?"

"I did. The owner of the place is called Rick. The piano player is Sam. As it was explained to me, keeping the name is an act of kindness for the old drunks who have difficulty remembering their own names and so to keep them from the burden of learning a new name the pianist is always Sam."

"Have I ever told you that you're crazy?"

"Frequently."

"It's still true."

A well dressed zorilla came over to them, "I was afraid you wouldn't be here tonight, and worried we might actually have to offer you money as an incentive. There were several customers asking for you."

"Judy, meet Rick – the owner. When he's not being Rick he'll answer to Louie. Rick, this is Judy."

"The love of his life," explained the rabbit.

"Indeed," Nick confirmed. "But, I fear I have bad news, she is also a gendarme."

"You will give Rick's a bad name if you fill it with gendarmes"

Nick put a tip jar on the piano and sat down. He told Judy, "Flip through the sheet music. Find a few things you know. If I know one of them you'll sing it." Then he began a song he remembered well from practicing in his youth, 'As Time Goes By'.

Two of the songs Judy picked out were well enough known to the fox that he was willing to attempt them. He picked the one that he thought would be easier, and wanted to die a few times when he hit the wrong keys, but she carried on. "You were great," he whispered as she finished.

"No I wasn't."

"You were. I'll play the other one in a minute. See if you can find a few more possibilities. I do vocals on this novelty foxtrot."

It was a song Nick remembered from his record collection, and one he'd practiced the previous afternoon – 'The Wreck of the Nancy Lee'. He started with the first verse

"I'll tell you the tale of the Nancy Lee,
The ship that got shipwrecked at sea
The bravest there was Captain Brown,
'Cause he played his ukulele as the ship went down."

He grinned at the applause when he finished the last verse. "Fiction to them," he whispered. "Most of them have never seen enough water in one place to drown, and the idea of enough water to float a ship in is beyond comprehension."

Judy sang another song. Nick showed her a piece of sheet music. "If we're here again. You're going to sing this. Syncopation is a little unusual, so just listen when I try and play it tonight. We can practice tomorrow. I think I've got, like, ten different recordings of this in my collection."

"Why do you have so many?"

"You don't have a collectors' mentality, or you would never ask the question."

Nick played 'The Wedding of the Painted Doll' as Judy tried to get a feel for the lyrics on the sheet music he played from. It sounded vaguely familiar.

Later in the evening, as Judy flipped through more music she heard something which disturbed her. "Nick," Judy whispered, "I heard someone talk about shooting craps in the back."

"I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on here!"

"We should do something."

"Maybe later."

Some five minutes later a waiter came over to Rick and pulled some credit notes from his pocket. "You were right, you didn't get cashed out properly last night."

"Oh, thank you very much!"

Judy gave him a look of disapproval. "You've been gambling!"

"Just a friendly game."

"And how much were your winnings?"

"There were just fifteen creds there, honest."

"But he said that was just what the error was."

"Around a hundred total. Buy-in was just twenty to get in the game."


Judy seemed oddly quiet as they left Rick's. "What's wrong?" the fox demanded.

"Nothing," she lied.

"As I've told you, you do a lousy job of lying."

She sighed, "I came out because I was afraid you were lonely and missing me. And you made friends... I didn't need to come out at all!"

"I made friends... Did you want me to spend my time sleeping, like Joe?"

"I wanted you to miss me!"

"I did," he assured her, putting an arm around her and drawing her close. "I thought of you every waking hour. I thought how I'd love you beside me as we explored the town together. I thought of you in the market. I thought... Oh, found a silversmith the first day I was here – I saw a ring I thought you'd love."

"Really?"

"Really. I didn't know the size for you. And, of course, there is... I need to remind you, water is at a premium. No long showers, so anyone with a nose will probably know what we're about to do."

She arched an eyebrow, "Even if the pizza didn't arrive in good condition?"

"You should always tip the delivery person."

"I have idea, rather than snappy comeback to your suggestive comment we can try going to our room and taking off our clothes."


Nick found the silversmith's shop where he had seen the ring. "There, that's the design. Remember, tap my hip twice if you like it, but don't look too anxious – maybe I can haggle a better price."

"Ah the stranger," the old zorilla said, looking up from his work bench. "I..." He looked back and forth between them. He inhaled deeply. He seemed puzzled. "The males and females of your species look very different."

"Some might think we were different species entirely," Nick agreed.

Judy quietly tapped his hip four times. Then she tapped his hip four more times.

He glanced over to let her know he got the message, and only two taps were required. But it was obvious from her expression she loved the ring. The smile on the face of the silversmith indicated he had seen the look on her face also, and the fox realized his room for negotiation was very small indeed.

Judy held up her arm as they left the shop to admire the ring. "It is beautiful!"

"Oh, and the inscription is some sort of silly promise that I will love you forever."

"Really?"

"That what he told me when–" He couldn't finish the sentence. Judy pulled him down and gave him an enthusiastic kiss.

The pair arrived at Rick's, "Guess who bought me a ring?" she asked Louis, and showed him her paw. "Can you read the inscription? I was told it says something about eternal love?"

"I can't read the old language," he told her. "But it is a zorilla betrothal ring, and I've always heard it a pledge of eternal love."

"A betrothal ring?" Judy asked in an excited voice, "like in being engaged?"

"Wait," protested the fox, "I didn't–" Judy's sudden hug caught him off guard and squeezed the wind out of him. "I didn't know anything like that when I saw it."

"You sly fox," she teased. "Of course I'll marry you."

"It can't be an engagement ring. An engagement ring has a diamond."

"Do you think the old zorillas were wealthy enough they owned diamonds?" Louis asked. "And we had no gold. Silver was the most precious metal we knew. The early rings were often copper or even tin."

"I didn't know it was an engagement ring!"

"It's fate," insisted Judy.

"It's coincidence!"

"Louis might think you don't want to marry me, the way you're protesting."

"Of course I want to marry you. But I'm supposed to ask you first."

"According to tradition," the zorilla explained. "You did not ask her her at all. You spoke with her father, and only after he approved did you present her with the ring. While tradition says only the father was asked there is strong reason to think he did not give his consent without talking with his wife."

"So he has to ask my father for his permission?"

"That is the tradition. Your species did not have similar traditions?"

"Foxes have the tradition. Hardly anyone still follows it… My dad drove up to the house at one in the morning, my mom jumped out the window and they left town. Grandpa would have never approved." He looked at Judy, "You really want me to ask your father – like you're his property? I'd rather ask you to marry me."

"Can you move a little faster on asking me? I'm already wearing my engagement… I need to call Suze, and Mom, and Hye, and… Darn, the satellite phone doesn't take pictures!


Over the next two weeks Judy made many purchases, mostly for the kitchen. She wanted to buy a carpet, but feared her budget could not allow it. She wasn't sure if she would ever wear the evening gown she had made once they were back in Zootopia – but it looked good when she sang at Rick's. Both animals were grateful for the lack of cell service, it kept from anyone from making a video of them and uploading it to the web.

Nick woke up first on their final morning in the city and smiled as he felt Judy's breath on his fur. He tried to put an arm around her without waking her, but failed.

"Morning," she yawned. "Back to Zootopia today."

"Let's stay here."

"What?"

"We can be officers on duty. There's no crime here. Everyone likes us. We're together. It will be perfect."

"Zootopia is home."

"Zootopia is crazy."

"We have friends there."

"We can make friends here. No politics, no crazy press conferences or Commissioners with an axe to grind. We can entertain at Rick's every night, and then make love."

"You don't mean it. We have too many responsibilities at home."

He was silent for a minute. "I know," he admitted. "But part of me really wants it. I just want to be somewhere quiet with you. I don't want the hassles and headaches."

"And you have friends counting on you. Mirage said you always keep your word to your friends."

"That's pretty low, using my own words against me."

"I think you can make a difference for a lot of animals. When I think of all you could do, the problems of two little animals looks like it don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. I would love to just stay with you – wherever you're happy I'll be happy. But we have responsibilities. If that truck returns to Zootopia and you're not in it, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life."

"I suppose. Well, in a couple hours we leave the world of civilization and return to the wild and savage place that is Zootopia."

The motorcycle was loaded onto the truck, along with items being sent to meerkat, zorilla, and lion families who had moved to Zootopia. Nick purchased two kilos of persimmons and Judy loaded her many purchases into the back of the truck as well.

Nick drove; three weeks of practice had given him the ability to handle the blocks tied to the accelerator and brake pedals, although he still had to sit up very straight to see over the dashboard. Judy sat in the middle of the bench seat, and Joe leaned against the door on the passenger side, snoring. His ability to apparently store sleep, like water, was a marvel to the fox and rabbit. As they neared Zootopia Judy pulled out her satellite phone, "I'm going to call Ben and say where we are."

"Why? You're not going to tell him about the ring, are you?"

"I told him already. He was number nine on the list. And I'm calling because everyone has been worried about you and wants to know you're safe."

The bunny placed her call. "Ben? Judy. We're on our way back. ... Yes, it will be good to see you too. ... What do I want most? Probably a long, long shower. ... Oh, that would be sweet. ... Anything exciting at the First?" Judy listened for an extended time. "We just passed the last oasis before Sahara Station, should arrive in about an hour and a half. ... Oh... See you tomorrow."

"Any excitement you need to share?"

"I think it can wait."

"I'm going home, flopping down on my bed, and doing ten to twelve hours of Joe impression. Carrots, much as I love you, I want ten to twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and alone time."

"Understood," she agreed. She wondered if she should warn him that Clawhauser had said there would probably be a small army of reporters at the Sahara Station awaiting his return.


Notes:

The song Eleanor Wilde sang to her children was 'What I Want Is a Proper Cup of Coffee'. The original version comes from 1928, and later adaptations, by definition, were written later. Variants recorded by different artists can be found on YouTube. The 1921 song, 'The Wreck of the Nancy Lee' has the alternate title 'He Played His Ukulele As the Ship Went Down'. There weren't many recordings of this novelty foxtrot. And 'The Wedding of the Painted Doll' was a standard written in 1929. Many bands recorded Doll, but it didn't have the range of variants that can be found for Coffee.

For anyone who missed it last chapter, white house = Casablanca. Several riffs on dialogue in the movie this chapter. The story that the Nazis missed a meeting between FDR and Churchill in North Africa because they translated Casablanca as White House and thought Churchill had flown to Washington DC appears to be urban legend. (And the FDR - Churchill meeting didn't take place in Casablanca, although it was held near Casablanca.)