I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.
Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter
Chapter Nine: The Facts of the Matter
By: Gabriel LaVedier
"I don't know if it's right to wear the clothes I go to cathedral in for something like this," Buck said, as he stood in the Sheriff's office. He was done up in his best suit, with pressed black slacks, a white shirt with a starched collar, a skinny black tie and a single-breasted black coat. His horns had even been polished and waxed for the occasion. "He's a crazy purist, and the other folks are disgusting thugs. Probably a criminal element we were never aware of."
"Sadly, Deputy, I think you'll find they're upstanding, respectable members of society, hiding in plain sight, smiling and laughing in public so no one suspects a thing," Beatrix sighed, looking him over. "This isn't Zootopia and it certainly isn't SI7, so don't think of getting a laser blazer, an electronic mosquito or even a wire. You can record on your phone if you like, we're one-party consent here, too. But otherwise, it's down to your memory."
"I don't know if I'm gonna want to remember what that savage says. I suppose I need to remember when the judge needs to know how long to put him behind bars. I hope he doesn't lay it on too thick, I'm not an actor, I can't pretend to be able to take it. I don't want to vomit in the middle of his house, no matter how appropriate it would be," Buck said, rubbing his stomach.
"Antler-up, Deputy. You may not be an elk or moose but you've still got some pride, no matter what. You're strong enough to take this on."
Buck reflexively reached up to touch his polished antlers, letting his hoof caps tap over the few tines he had. "Thanks, Sheriff. This is a just too crazy. This isn't what the Burrows is all about. Half the time I think I'm gonna wake up, roll out of bed and go to a normal day at work."
"This is a normal day at work for us. Like it or not, cops of any kind encounter mammals at their worst sometimes. And we work hard because we want to make life better and safer for mammals and that helps them get to their best."
Buck nodded, stroking his antlers again and looking toward the door. "Do I take the car or go on my little Bombo? It's kind of a trip."
"It might look suspicious if I let you take the car while you're out of uniform. As odd as it looks, you'll have to go there on the scooter. Just accept they'll look at you oddly. You hate Seedcache anyhow, no need to try and impress him."
"But won't that make him think I'm just some yokel?"
"If it was a big-piped Bristleback, yes. But as far as I know, anything like a Bombo says I'm a young, hip Zootopian, and I'm probably in university for something non-science. It makes you look pretentious, so just don't let on it really means you were on a budget and liked the old Sean Coneyry Jack Savage movies set in locales where those were common."
"Here I go, undercover. SI7 Buck Roeberts, Agent Double Natural," Buck said, sliding on a pair of mirrored shades before walking out the door. The station was little more than a cheerfully designed extra-large cabin, like much of Bunnyburrow, the architecture filled with rabbit motifs, though the Sheriff had added a few runic touches of her own, some reindeer heads and, now that he knew to look, Buck could detect subtle wolf designs within the runes and the reindeer designs.
The parking lot in front of the station would have been accused of egotism by describing itself as such. It was a cracked asphalt patch holding three vehicles. The department car, the Sheriff's imported older model SAR Tunturi with its odd mix of compact boxiness and curved designs in the lines, and Buck's own Antilope. Buck settled his helmet on his head without any nervousness, and climbed onto the vehicle with confidence. He had things down.
The top speed on his scooter wasn't exactly like lightning but the zippy little thing performed well enough. After topping off at the Concho, the gas station on the way into Squirrelburrow, he made his way down the familiar dirt road, the knot in his stomach starting to twist. His earlier confidence evaporated as he came closer and closer. He could almost feel the bilious evil that Leonard Seedcache radiated.
By the time he reached the entrance to the property he didn't want to go through the gate. He had, in his least open moments, said and thought some stupid things, like his instant accusations against Travis caused by fatigue and a need to make things quick and easy. That was his bottom. Staring up the drive was staring into what really constituted a depth.
"I'm a good mammal," Buck whispered to himself as he revved the scooter up the way. "I'm not afraid of you, Seedcache. I can do this."
Buck noted that a few other cars, of different sizes, were already parked in front of the manor. It was likely, given the sizes involved, they wouldn't be in the main house. The place was much like the Dreyson manor, if slightly smaller and less impressively constructed. Maybe they'd even be in one of those stations they were stripping and sealing. An evil monster like Seedcache was the type to use things for very improper activities.
"Deputy, welcome," Leonard said with a smarmy smile, a cold contempt in his eyes. "What an... interesting choice of conveyance. It's very metropolitan. I hadn't figured you for the type."
"I'm full of surprises," Buck said, keeping his gaze fixed on Leonard, keeping his nerve. "Where are we meeting?"
"No mammal is ever a surprise. We all fall into our patterns. How superior or inferior they are come out sooner or later," Leonard huffed. "Head into the orchard, a light lunch is served. I didn't have all the folks I wanted but some were required to keep up appearances. Tragic that social pantomimes prevent the edification of folk but that's the reality. I'm sure you'll find the fare more fitting to your taxonomic class, and I'm certain this time my maid will provide no distraction, given the so-called progressive Sheriff is no longer monitoring you."
The sheer frigidity. The chilly hate, the bile, the condescension dripping from every word. It made a hot gorge rise in the back of Buck's throat, and sent a little surge of anger in him. But he tamped it all down with an easy smile. "Absolutely right, sir. I'll be acting much more, uh, properly."
"See that you do. I'll be out there shortly. Oh, and a good suit always proves a mammal's worth, even if they come up on a pretentious little conveyance," Leonard chuckled before turning back to his manor and going inside.
Buck shuddered in mingled disgust, disdain and unease once focus had passed from him. He slipped his helmet into his usual bag hanging from the side of the scooter and put his sunglasses inside the bag as well. Necessary when riding, but not for a formal gathering. He'd been raised just well enough to be able to fake the finer social niceties.
As indicated, the orchard had been set up with a table, much like the one around back of the manor, but the orchard setup seemed much more temporary, flimsier somehow, even if it was draped with fine linen. A small dais stood nearby, undoubtedly where Seedcache would stand and pontificate. He probably saw himself as a Fif, but he was clearly no Rebecca Cuniculus.
Other mammals were seated at the table, with whom Buck was passingly familiar. As the Sheriff had warned, he saw minor business leaders, upstanding mammals of some wealth and respectability. Most troubling, he saw Lawrence Grange, one of the Tri-Burrow Board of Supervisors members. The old rabbit was shaking paws with moneyed prey and laughing at something or another.
"Well! I think I know you," the old rabbit said, hopping up by Buck and peering at him. "Yes! Yes... young Mr. Roeberts, as I recall, you work with that... reindeer that seems to be settled into her position. Never thought I'd see an immigrant so high in power in these Burrows. At least we have fine mammals like you here to maintain native representation."
Buck could recall, if dimly, his grandfather vaguely saying something unkind about immigrants, though he had focused on immigrant predators, a sentiment he understood was also common in Zootopia. It had been once, it had been light, and it had been long ago. Hearing a Board member open up and disparage the Sheriff, for no reason, yanked the knot in his gut and sent the blood surging. "I do my best to get the job done, Mr. Grange."
"At least we have a counterbalance in you, young stag. That Sheriff is too filled with strange ideas. And with you here, well... if you join us full time, perhaps, just perhaps, you might have strong support should you discover some generously donated money for a run for Sheriff. We need traditional values in law enforcement," Lawrence said with a huge, seemingly friendly, smile.
That admission of political chicanery, based around being... what? Prey-power? Prey-pride? A purist? That admission froze Buck's blood. One member of the Board was unquestionably compromised, and now he was saying he wanted a Sheriff that would act like the rest of them. "That's a ways off," Buck mumbled, noncommittally.
"Elections are always closer than you perceive, Mr. Roeberts," Lawrence intoned, suddenly dark and serious. "That reindeer will find that out to her dismay. Don't worry, a team of professionals will smooth the way. Welcome to our little company."
Buck mumbled something he hoped sounded cheerful and agreeable before moving off to let Lawrence meet with another influential figure. Thugs. He wanted hired goons, filthy criminal scum. Lowly minions under a mastermind like in crime movies and television. This was disgusting. It seemed like the folk there had a good portion of the power in some parts of the Tri-Burrows. Naturally there weren't any Predburrowers that he could see, and, of course, Big Daddy Dreyson and Stu Hopps weren't there, robbing them of true power. He knew those two would never be involved in such a thing, given a few of their childrens' choices in mates.
Eventually, Leonard arrived, with Hayma following along behind him pushing a very large cart, which clearly strained her petite frame; but she was still expected to do it. Everyone took a seat around the table, Leonard at the head. The food was served out, each set-out plate easing Hayma's burden. She offered a smile on setting the plate down in front of Buck, and it took all his self-control to hold a neutral expression, sending her away with a sad look.
He felt like scum, and hadn't even heard a thing out of Seedcache.
The lunch was somewhat like Buck expected, a competent but fairly uninspired pile of spinach and kale, with some sectioned tangerines, pomegranate arils, almonds and shredded carrots and turnips to add a little extra flavor. Hayma had done her best with what she had been given, but it was still very lacking. Appropriate for a gathering of bland purists.
Everyone had something to say, but little worth repeating, as far as Buck was concerned. It all fell on him like twisted, warped versions of things the less enlightened in his life had obliquely said in unguarded moments. It was like a fun house mirror version of the reality he knew; he looked in and a disfigured monstrosity stared back, all lopsided features and malicious intent. He was required to nod and make little noises of agreement, while he focused mainly on making his lunch stay down his stomach when they talked about intelligence distribution curves and degenerates, which included the Sheriff more than a few times.
Hayma had to stay there, picking up plates as they were finished, then distributing glasses of wine. On her second pass, Buck let his eyes dart around quickly, allowing a small smile and a nod for her, along with a sudden switch back to a stern look and a clearing of his throat. He could only hope she understood what it all meant.
When the wine had been distributed and everyone was settling in, Leonard rose from the table and stepped to the dais, the thing slowly rising a little bit, panels sliding up to give him a more imposing height. It resembled more a wooden pedestal than anything else when the mechanism had finished rising. "My friends, I raise my glass to you all. By coming here and being in solidarity you represent the best this place has to offer, the brightest, the most enlightened, the most truly concerned with our greatness and our future. Hail yourselves and feel pride within!"
Everyone returned the toast and raised their glasses high, Buck caught up slightly late, a half-hearted hail lost in the roar of the others. He drank from his glass to wash the bitterness out of his mouth from having to go along. The praise was disgusting. It was like someone proudly calling him a cannibal or Chthon.
"I have made many speeches on similar subjects, but you have heard them before. However, there are new faces here, and it's important that they understand the true reason we're all here, and why they should feel proud of their choice. It's a decision that has far-reaching implications, and marks them as a true friend to the community. Their interest in the advancement of a healthy land and healthy family lines means they believe in a true, good, pure future.
"Purity... that's the truth of this world. As was said by the ancient philosopher, each being has a place, that place is immutable, or should be taught it is so. Rulers rule, and they do so through their incorruptible golden bloodline. We've let weak, feeble and mixed mammals have a say for a long while. They drag down our community, they pollute our lives and they destroy our infinite potential for perfect and peaceful communities of absolutely immaculate lives.
"I don't know how many of you remember The Curve, the absolute measure of intelligence and potential. There are many in the middle, with few at either the high or low end. That intelligence is the sole factor of success. We're all smart mammals here. We wouldn't be here if we weren't. We represent the elite, the cognitive pinnacle, the real food chain. Intelligence is what staves off criminality and degeneracy, stops the dysgenic decline of our society.
"We already know that for all their small numbers predators represent the low side of intellect and the high side of crime. Poverty, laziness, ignorance. No one with any integrity or sense disputes any of it. But even prey can fall on the far side of The Curve. And those of purity can protect from that. They can pass on their intelligence.
"But far too many throw away their perfection. They cast their intelligent bloodlines into the mud, mixing with an inferior stock. Rulers rule, by blood. Intelligence is inherited and should never be adulterated. Those of superior moral and intellectual perfection must keep the blood with their equals, with their sort.
"In mixing their breeds with who knows what, they ruin any hope they have of a better future. With intelligence being heritable, they destroy their own bloodline, all for some lie they've been told by talking heads and the larger, ever-more-sick society of halfbreeds and mixes of so many types you don't know what anyone is anymore. We must hold the line. We must stop the degeneration, we must stay with known perfection.
"I have additional literature, given to me by our friends that can no longer openly participate. Sacrifices for the prey perfection cause. They will be missed for a few years. I have confidence true justice will eventually prevail, and they will be set free by a genuinely enlightened government, filled with our sorts of mammals. I know it will come. I can feel it. I have more to relate but I feel a short break is warranted," Leonard said, lowering his stand with the tap of a button near his paw.
Buck's glass was empty. It had been empty since almost the beginning of that somewhat short but horrible speech. They... they wanted purity because intelligence was passed down? He knew stupid prey, and smart predators. There wasn't anything in either that made them more likely to be smart or stupid. It was all a mess of real hate. He knew some folks were... mean... but this was beyond mean. It was crazy. Just like he said, the purists were crazy mammals, only good for being locked up in Imboca Bay.
"Mr. Seedcache... where are the... facilities for someone of my size?" Buck delicately asked, eyes darting around wildly, though not for the reason that was implied given the question.
"Though my manor is made for my sort, I do have guest facilities. I would advise, in the future, you take care of that before. It's a matter of preparation and mind over body, which the superior can manage," Leonard snorted. "Go back to the manor, to where you had lunch last time, and go back along the rear of the manor to a set-aside latrine. It's porcelain on the inside and has working water flow. Yes, even my ill-used guest facilities are most grand. Let's see that Ebenezer claim such a thing."
"It's an impressive place, yeah..." Buck said with a falling tone as he he made his way from the gathering. It might give the game away but he had every inclination to hop on his Antilope and burn rubber out of there. One more speech from Seedcache and he'd use what horns he had to ram the bigoted chipmunk repeatedly.
As indicated, in an area that hadn't been seen on the last visit Buck found a kind of wood and stone shed sort of structure, nicely designed with a rustic aesthetic that fit the location. There was an identical one behind it and attached at one edge. Opening the wooden door revealed that it was, indeed, porcelain tiled inside, like the bathrooms that were occasionally seen in the magazines about style and design. Those were the ones with tusked women on the covers, generally, and he had absorbed a lot of that kind of thing.
The floor was tiled in alternating small porcelain squares of mint green and cream white, while the walls were much larger squares of a similar scheme. There was a drain in the floor, to make cleaning easier, and very few other features. Two toilets, one for larger mammals and one for medium ones that still outsized those like Seedcache, and two sinks of similar stature. Toilet tissue was provided, as well as a rather nice guest towel.
Buck slipped inside and closed the door, noting the light was provided by a few fancy sorts of extra-reflective tube skylights. Of course he'd be too cheap to pay to wire them for electricity. The lighting was sufficient but very diffuse. He pulled out his phone as he sat on the toilet and jotted down what he cared to remember from the speech and who he had seen. "Gotta snap photos... but I just wanna leave..."
A knock on the door made him fumble his phone, nearly dropping it to the ground. "Deputy?" Hayma quietly asked.
Buck sighed and stood up, opening the door a crack, "I'm not using it, I'm just..."
"You don't want to be here. I know. When you smiled, I knew. Why are you here?"
"The Sheriff wanted me here. I have to find out if Seedcache has been giving violent instructions. He's clearly doing something wrong, and if that includes giving orders..."
Hayma shook her head. "I have listened to his poisonous talk. He only fills them with anger, tells them that degenerates and the stupid are massing, that mixing their blood in any way will destroy the society. Even someone who is with a different kind of their own species, someone with a similar kind. A deer with a different deer... he says it makes for stupid offspring, that any mix is going to destroy everything and create chaos."
"What was all this about sacrifices and folks that can't be here anymore? Did that have to do with the Zootopia folks?"
"Yes, I asked Daw Peony about that. I wanted to know too. She confided in me that the ones who would come were sheep, and that at least one was one of the ones recently arrested, though she also heard her father say the name Vesper. Not the time period, the name. It was in a phone call but it had to have been him."
Buck stared off into space, slowly opening the door to step out into the day again. "Vesper Bellwether... the second most evil sheep in the city. But it wasn't him?"
"No, she said it was someone else, but couldn't recall his name. She was just certain about who it was. These mammals are not much better, so far as I can see. They're all so cold, unfriendly, even the ones that laugh and smile all the time."
"I need to get out of here. I can't stand another one of those speeches. I'll just snap a picture of the gathering, then rush off. The Sheriff will want to know about everyone there."
Hayma took out an older model cell phone, pulling up her contacts. "Can I help you? Please give me your number and I can send you any other pictures that I get. It's an old model but it works."
Buck helpfully typed in his number, brushing his hoof along Hayma's, a dark blush creeping over his ears. "I, uh, shouldn't let you do this. It's dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt..."
"It's my choice. I respect my job and my employer, but this community is so wonderful, I need to protect it," Hayma said, hugging the phone to her chest. "I'm glad I moved here."
Buck chuckled softly, flicking his ears as a rustle sounded out. A quick look didn't reveal anything, but he still pulled away and turned on his phone camera. "I'll show you around the Burrows sometime. Be safe, Hayma."
Back in the orchard, the gathering was still in mingling mode, wine getting drunk, deals seemingly being made, Seedcache discussing something with Lawrence. The muted phone camera snapped image after image, Buck only able to vaguely aim and hope that he was getting a decent shot of everything. His last few shots tracked his path up to Leonard and Lawrence, the phone coming up and being lightly shaken. "My work is never done. I'm off but the Sheriff still demanded I come in to keep working."
Leonard was about to comment, with a suspicious cant to his features, when Lawrence spoke up, loud and sudden. "That's what I suspected! She has no concept of allowing folk to enjoy their time off, but wants them to work on frivolities. I'll imagine you're still wasting time on that minor fire."
"The Sheriff gets focused on things," Buck said with a shake of his head.
"Yes... yes, well, as Mr. Grange said, the Sheriff is intent on wasting time and is tearing you away from a very important matter."
"Remember, the election is coming faster than she thinks," Lawrence said with a cheerful lilt.
"That's right, it is," Buck said, sliding his phone into his pocket and making his way back to the front of the manor. He'd made it. And he hadn't thrown up all over the place.
It took a bit of finagling to get out of the front drive, an older model, beat-up Pride Dray pickup truck partially blocking him in. Either a late arrival or he had parked without thinking about how he would get out. He had to walk himself out from around the vehicle, after slipping his helmet and shades back on.
Before he zipped off he brought the sheriff up on his phone. "That was horrifying, but I learned more than I ever wanted to. I think we found at least the source of this."
"He wasn't the one, I can tell. It wouldn't possibly be that easy. You'd have a much cheerier tone."
"I have so much to show you and tell you. We have a bigger problem than you figured. I'll be there as fast as I can. Ears up and eyes open indeed... we might as well have the Slashy-Smiley Killer already among us..."
o o o
"You were right, Deputy. I... Lawrence Grange really said they'd give money for you to run against me?" Later, after Buck had gotten back to the station and changed he had delivered the speech so far as he could remember, given the information Hayma had told him, and reported all that he had overheard. He also showed off the photos he had taken.
"He all but told me he was going to give me a load of money and make sure a team of mammals would ram me through into your job," Buck said, flicking through the photos. "Like I said, some big names. Of course, no Big Daddy Dreyson and no Stu Hopps, so there's no real power, but plenty of influence. I don't like there's a Board member there."
"It's just one, but one's bad enough..." Beatrix muttered. "I remember some of the things Seedcache said. When I was in university I had to take some electives, and there was a philosophy course that featured a look at an old philosophical tome that talked about lying to the population, convincing them they were magic, and their place in life was set by their blood, which was made of different classes of rock and metal. He believes in that, which falls somewhere between pathetic and terrifying, but that curve... you hear that from some of the more scientifically minded prey-arrogant types. It's about an intelligence curve that was wildly inflated in importance by those exact types."
"I've seen some smart predators, and I've seen some dumb as a stump prey. All preds aren't Old Tod Grey and all prey aren't Sharla Ovine."
"That was what made it so easy for the likes of Seedcache to misuse it. It's easy to sell an example of the upper area and lower area of intellect. And since there were so many reasons for predators to be left out of things... you saw how it works. He throws out a bit of fake science, some scary and provocative words, an allegedly scientific forecast of chaos and destruction, and there you have it. Instant hate, from a blunt instrument of a demagogue."
"No one's going to be making him a Fifrah and putting him in front of a congregation any time soon. They'd chuck the consecrated victus at his fool head."
"As if he'd even give it out. He'd charge folk for it," Beatrix said with a chuckle, jotting down the names of folks she could identify from the pictures.
Buck pulled the camera away when he got a text message indication, pulling up another photo from the Seedcache manor, this one of license plates, including part of the truck that had pulled up. Another came up, fuzzy shots of the gathering still going on. "She's too brave for her own good. The photos are blurry but we can confirm these plates for some of them."
"Gotta respect that doe for even bothering. Did anyone really jump out at you? Was anyone overly interested?"
"Honestly... no. Lawrence Grange was eager to get rid of you, but that's it. Only Seedcache himself talked openly about mixing lines, and was pretty up-front about how he didn't want me to even be kind to Hayma. That's some strict purism."
"Those types have strange rules. He'd probably keep apart an elk and a whitetail. And no way he'd accept one of the Dreyson boys being with a gray or a red. It's a strange little world that you're right to think ought to be buried and gone."
The two went quiet for a while, both of them writing out notes and filling in forms to later ask for a run on images, plates and criminal records. "So how's... your... wolf?"
"You're trying, Deputy, and that's what matters," Beatrix said with a chuckle. "Advancement is all anyone can ask for. Anyhow, he's fine. That dinner was tense but mostly because all of them were just throwing themselves at me, trying to butter me up. It really embarrasses Rimpssie, so I feel bad for him, but I understand it. They're trying too hard to keep me interested and involved. It's sad, on some level, but I'm charmed."
"I mean... I get it. Nana always told me that if I find a good doe, do what I need to. Learn things, go places, say the right things. I guess she was saying the same thing. That a good partner is worth a little fuss. Though maybe, just maybe, she was telling me to lift my status a little bit, like Travis Dreyson did, but with the same sense of love."
"I think we're all on the same page. Rimpssie's family wants to be very important. They're predators and immigrants, and I'm the Sheriff. I don't like him being a pawn for his family, but he chose to come to me, and I chose to be with him. They're just hoping that I'll keep loving him. Even if it's to their benefit I know, deep down, they want his happiness. They get worried or even cringe if I frown or look aside, like they're actually afraid I might leave him after all I've done. I'd rather cut off my own antlers before the natural cull than break his sweet little wolfy heart."
Buck reflexively touched his own antlers and gently rubbed one of the tines. "That's a lot of love, Sheriff..."
"If it wasn't that much I don't think I'd call it love at all," Beatrix said with a smile.
They worked in silence for a while longer, before Buck's phone sprang to life, the screen showing off Hayma's name. "I thought you were..." He started.
Cries, crashes and hissing sounds came through before Hayma cried out. "Deputy! Buck! H-help me!"
Buck shot out of his seat, hitting the speaker to let the sound out. "What's wrong? Where are you?"
"I'm running down the road from Hrang's manor! One of the guests caught me taking photos! He's going to catch me!"
"I'm on my way! Sheriff, we-!" His statement was cut off when he saw the sheriff wasn't at her desk anymore, just a scattered collection of papers. Buck rushed outside at hearing the sound of the siren, seeing Beatrix behind the wheel with the passenger door open.
"Get in now!" Beatrix shrieked, gunning the engine hard.
"Hayma! Hayma, we're on our way! Who's attacking you?"
"I don't know! I don't know the names of them but he's- ah! No! Let me-!" The scuffling grew louder and the phone could be heard impacting the ground, but still transmitting sound with more static. The impacts of fighting, cries of pain, of a male and female nature, and other noises of a terrible fight came though, making Buck frown more and more.
"S-sheriff?"
"Hold onto your antlers, Deputy! I'm going to turn this under-powered junker into a rocket!" Beatrix cried, revving the Simoom into a throaty, thundering roar. She shifted hard and slammed the pedal down with so much force she bent the edge of the metal under the rubber.
The car made good time as it screamed down the dirt roads, its dodgy suspension making both cervids bounce wildly as it hit pot holes and other divots. Buck kept listening at the speaker, growing more and more worried as the sounds of a titanic fight kept coming through, without coherent words, or at least none that could be identified through the damaged phone. "You can do it, you can do it. You kick his purist grapes into juice, Hayma..."
"Positive thoughts, Deputy. Even if she can't quite hear you I'm sure she knows you're there."
The car shot down the road and crested a low hill, coming upon the scene of Hayma on the ground, with a hunched figure dashing off into the orchard on Seedcache's property after leaping the low front fence. Buck leaped out of the braking cruiser, initially raging and aiming for the fence, but turning his attention to Hayma when she let out a piteous, soft bark. "Hayma!"
Her maid attire was a mess, filthy with dirt and mud made of a mix of that dirt and blood. There were some rough tears and ragged rips that seemed to be rakes from extremely blunted claws. A lot of the damage was focused to her midsection, but her face had taken a beating as well. Her pearly tusks were stained with blood, though hers of the attacker's wasn't readily apparent. One eye was almost swollen shut, and her other eye was only intermittently open. "B-buck..."
"Hayma! Who did this? What did he look like? I'll antler the living desolation out of him!"
"Came late... he saw... was a... yone... yone..." Hayma slumped down, breathing shallowly.
Beatrix was on the car radio, screaming into the mic. "You get out here as fast as possible! I told you, it's the road right outside the Seedcache property in Squirrelburrow! I've got a deer doe beaten to unconsciousness and I need to have her in some proper paws before I go to beat the pellets out of someone! If you slow down for anything but pedestrians, a supernova or an earthquake I'll ram my antlers so far up you backside you'll be able to read the runes on the ends!"
Buck had an ear pressed to Hayma's chest, listening to her breathe and making sure her heart was still beating. "Sheriff..."
"I don't care how rural we are, we need more ambulances and something better than that big clinic. They rang Dr. Arctos, she'll be rushing there," Beatrix sighed, walking over to the two. "Voittamaton aurinko ja siunattu maa... Deputy... Buck..."
"You don't need to say it!" Buck cried out with a concluding sob. "Now I get why it's so important! I get that it can happen here! I get it..." He squeezed Hayma's body tighter. "It can happen here..."
Beatrix place a hoof on his shoulder and gave it a pat. "You gonna be okay, Buck? Need some time? I can let you go with her..."
"No! I wanna but no. I need to catch the son of a rotting pile that did this..."
They stood there in silence, ears flicking aside at the distant shriek of ambulance sirens.
o o o
There were more ways than one to get out of the Seedcache property, and no cars passed the stretch of road that had just recently been visited by an ambulance. Beatrix and Buck roared their way up the drive to the manor, siren screaming the whole way.
Buck led the way into the hastily-evacuated orchard area, the flimsy tables and chairs in disarray, with Leonard Seedcache trying to make everything look as clean and normal as possible.
"You wretched son of a Chthon I'll tear your sun-cursed head off and shove it right where the earth won't kiss!" Buck bellowed, his attempted rush halted by Beatrix's powerful grasp.
"Not even close to being worth it, Deputy! If you're in prison for doing what he deserves to have happen to him you can't be there when Miss Sanda recovers. Do your job and let the courts ream him dry and in one go," Beatrix cried. "Leonard Seedcache you have a lot of questions to answer and if you try to moon-talk your way out I'll let him go and call it an accident!"
"There no need for incivility, Sheriff," Leonard said, in his most unctuous and obsequious tone. "I understand there was a small scuffle..."
"I'm going to let go, Seedcache, that wasn't a bluff, that was me telling you I think you deserve it. Now talk, you rotting pile!"
"Maintain some composure! We're all civilized prey here!" Leonard shouted. "Don't resort to predatory acts of ignorance. I knew you weren't really one of us, with your pretentious little scooter and tacky sunglasses, not to mention your dysgenic degeneracy. There are roe does in the area, stay with them."
"I could rip you apart with my bare hooves! Just let me, Sheriff!"
Beatrix pulled her grip tighter, body trembling. "Now's the exact wrong time to keep pretending you're a superior creature. You tell us which of your guests assaulted Miss Sanda right now or else."
"Threats. Violence. Insanity and stupidity. You're clearly on the short side of The Curve. Hardly surprising of an immigrant and a Chomper-Romper," Leonard spat.
Beatrix had a choice to make in that moment. Nearly every fiber of her being was screaming to pull her club from her belt and accidentally beat the bigoted chipmunk to death for resisting arrest or refusing to yield or littering, something. That last little shred of self-control within her made her stop and keep her iron-tight grip on her deputy. "You are aiding and abetting a criminal, we heard a direct report from the victim prior to her assault, the perpetrator was a late-arrival to your gathering, and the assault occurred as a direct result of your speech."
"You'll have a hard time proving that. I only deliver ideas and give speeches about scientific facts and figures, nothing at all about violence. But if someone was incidentally moved to action they reached that conclusion all on their own. I had nothing to do with any of that, I only gave them food for thought."
"You were also associating with known criminals. One of the Meadowlands Mob was here, we know that. You're a purist and a bigot, and you're refusing to name the perpetrator of a serious felony."
"One has nothing to to with the other," Leonard hissed. "My personal internal convictions are not criminal acts. And I refuse to cooperate with a corrupt government of mixed breeds and progressives. I stand by my actions and will protect the intellectual and social superiors!"
"We know about Lawrence Grange and his political chicanery. Think you can get rid of me that easily? Not a chance. You and your whole mob of purists are going to be revealed for what you are. You've lost," Beatrix huffed. "Deputy, I'm going to let go. I'm going to arrest him and we're not taking him into the woods to lose him, he's going to go in front of the judge. You said you didn't see any judges, and even if one came late the scrutiny is on them. He's not going to go free. Now, can I trust you?"
Buck snorted but sharply nodded his head. "Yes, Sheriff. I'll keep it legal."
Beatrix released her arms and went for her belt, picking from her supply of cuffs to get out the ones sized for Leonard's stature. "Leonard Seedcache, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the escape of a suspect in the assault of Hayma Sanda, concealing the identity of an assault suspect and conspiracy to circumvent the law. You have the right to maintain your silence and free speaking will negate the right against self-incrimination. You have the right to legal representation of your own choosing or one appointed by the state prior to questioning. Do you understand these rights?"
"Of course, I'm a pure-blooded mammal, with my intellect fully intact. I'll be released quickly and resume my life as if nothing happened."
"Not happening..." Beatrix huffed, leading Leonard along with rough shoves. "But how did he know? I've been discreet about my relationship with Rimpssie. I haven't told anyone. He told Mr. Ovine but he's been quiet as well."
"I told the Dreysons," Buck admitted. "I was still reeling, but it seemed right. They're trustworthy folk."
"I have to assume. But they're both the type to talk about those kinds of things. They wouldn't just tell anyone, but her brothers, his business partner and workers... they think they're trustworthy, but there's a traitor in their midst..."
Author's Notes
SI7- They would understand that as State Intelligence Division Seven, a play on Military Intelligence Division Six, MI6, the organization that James Bond works for. Implicit is that in the Jack Savage movies, he's from SI7.
Laser Blazer and Electronic Mosquito- I love Get Smart to this day and will make references until I die.
SAR Tunturi- That stands for Suomalainen Auto Ryhmä, Finnish Auto Group, an invented company vaguely meant to evoke something like Saab or Volvo, an economy import. Tunturi means Fell, a kind of rounded-off hard-rock mountain unaffected by glaciation. The main goal in the first Niko movie was the quest to reach Santa's Fell, so this serves as a cute reference.
Chthon- In this specific context, this would refer to someone who followed a sort of tradition-based elder law, neither strictly ecclesiastical, though often claiming Solaterra respectability, nor common or based on precedent. He's objecting to the idea of someone proudly asserting he's part of a heretical cult of quasi-anarchists.