AN. Well, my very first fanfic has reached a minor milestone: 50,000 words! Nobody told me to start with something simpler and shorter.
Thanks to Disney for letting me play in their copyrighted, all rights reserved sandbox.
Tinbuzzard11
Chapter Nine:
Crossing Paths
Officer Wilde whipped their ZPD cruiser across the asphalt of Oakglen Elementary's empty playground with lights flashing, gave a blip of the siren, and braked to a stop. Directly in front of them, the school's central courtyard actually did have several scrub oak trees, with the shaded grass beneath them mostly covered by a gaggle of students. Nick estimated almost one hundred and fifty—fourth through sixth grade, and from less than one foot high to taller than him. They were held well back from the edge of the pavement by a line of teachers.
"It's ShowTime Carrots!" Nick said brightly to his curiously rejuvenated partner. A nod and they simultaneously opened their doors wide to display the ZPD logos on them—she needed a foot to push hers all the way out. They stepped out smartly and stood at parade rest just beyond them. The staff barricade opened and they were engulfed by the kit amoeba.
His first interlocutor was a young girl porcupine—who could not be crowded out by the others due to the personal zone of avoidance that attended all of her species.
"Have anyone ever killed you!" Miss Prickle asked breathlessly.
OK, that was a new variation. She'd managed to get the first word in the right place. "Just twice, honey," Nick said as he crouched down and kept a careful eye on the soccerball of quivering weaponry. "But I got better."
Nick fielded a few more questions while Miss Prickle stood in confusion from her blown opportunity. Once the instructors had restored a semblance of order and set up a table, he stepped to the rear and opened the hatch to unload their posterboards, law enforcement paraphernalia, and safety brochures. On her side, Carrots was already reading a cuffed miscreant his rights as a smiling teacher waited to give a witness statement.
There was always one. This time it was a bear cub that had tried to clamber into the patrol cruiser—attracted by the lights on the radio scanner and the tape of dramatic police calls that issued from the modified device. He would be placed in the caged back seat until the teachers had the impromptu courtroom set up in the auditorium. These mock arrests and introductions to the justice system were a popular part of their community outreach visits. When requested, they would send the school advance materials to prepare the students and give the teachers roles to play.
"Mister Gregory Orson, you stand accused of one count each of trespassing on city property, breaking and entering, and interfering with the duties of a police officer," said the collard peccary prosecutor. "How do you plead?"
"What's that mean Mrs. Trotstan?"
"You have to tell the court if you're guilty or innocent of these charges, Gregory," the compact bovid told the likely fourth grade cub. "Did you do them or not?"
"I hafta be innocent cause I only did one!" Gregory looked indignant as intended—the over-the-top charges just reinforced the sham nature of the trial. This time there was a sheep on the faculty to play the judge—they always looked the part—and he impaneled a snickering jury of the defendant's peers; several said "guilty" as soon as they were selected. After some histrionics from the prosecution, defense, and witnesses—all identified by placards—the jury returned a verdict of guilty on two counts and not guilty of the B&E.
"Mister Orson. You are sentenced by this court to thirty minutes community service—that service to be concluded once you have helped the officers set up the demonstration on the playground." The judge enthusiastically slapped a ruler on his podium in lieu of a gavel.
Nick escorted the now grinning cub out of the auditorium, and handed his 'Bailiff' sign to 'Arresting Officer' Hopps on the way. She did look quite arresting, he thought. He was elated to have his apparently normal bunny back, but perplexed by her casual deflections as to how that had occurred. Something had happened either during her talk with agent Winter, or the one the next day with the contract psychologist that had cleared her return to duty. She had bounced into the bullpen this morning as if the last week hadn't happened.
"Officer Wilde will now step on the brakes—you'll see the strobe light on top and the taillights both flash when he does that." Carrots stood on a chair with the loudhailer, while he sat in the softly idling cruiser with the winner of the safety question contest as a ride-along. He started tapping the brake pedal.
"That's enough Nick," crackled the walky-talky. "Get in position." She hadn't just preempted his keycode message at "I LO..." earlier she'd casually mentioned the possibility of an 'exhibition of speed' citation if he showed too much enthusiasm behind the wheel. He drove carefully around the periphery of the playground and aligned the SUV with the two sets of traffic cones and the inflatable generic pedestrians.
He admired the fetching little flag on her rump from his staging point as she explained the demo. She raised a paw, then dropped it—he gunned the engine briefly, stabilized at twenty miles per hour, and hit the brakes as he passed the first set of cones. He stopped a few feet short of the pneumatic pedestrians with only a mild chirp from the tires.
The student's thought processes were as predictable as the sunrise. If he's gonna go twice as fast this time, it'll take him twice as far to stop! They placed a third set of cones at one hundred feet; twice the distance of the second set, and moved the pedestrian figures there. Nick slowly backed into position, and at Carrot's signal punched it to forty with a squeal from the passenger seat, and a longer louder one from the tires as he slid into the figures and sent them flying.
"Dispatch, kit-one is ten-twenty-four; heading back to the barn." She'd just asked for it, he knew, as Carrots hung up the microphone and gave the school a farewell wave.
"Ten-four farmbunny and foxtrot," Clawhauser never disappointed when given an opportunity. "Report to the principal's office on arrival." That was expected; Bogo wanted them to maintain the appearance of normalcy, and likely had another routine assignment—or possibly some privileged information.
"Whatja do Wilde, stick her ears together with gum?" said Wolfard's voice on the radio.
"Just be sure you ditch the booster seats and pedal extenders before you give the kiddycar back to precinct three." That was his partner Fangmeyer. "And do push the seats back."
"Don't want them to have a...diminished view of the stature of our officers," said a gruff voice, probably McHorn's. The rhino sat next to them at briefings the same way a mountain sat next to a vacation lodge. He'd been one of the slowest to warm up to the precinct's smallest officers, and this inclusive condescension showed that they'd finally earned some of his respect. Whether you thought of the ZPD as a pack, herd, skulk, or warren, they'd become a part of it and were being welcomed back. Nick matched his partner's smile; acceptance by a whole organization was still an unaccustomed state of mind for him.
Then there was Judy. However unnatural, he knew there was no other for him. She had accepted him as partner and her best friend—but based on what Jack had said, plus the night together at his place—she might really want some more. "Let her choose!" the hare had said; but would he have the strength to let her pull him down that path if she did? She'd seemed so comfortable nestled against him, warm, her small paws tightening in her sleep to pull his tail closer...to claim it...him as...
"Earth to Nick! Our corner—left!"
He focused on the road, slowed, and swung into the far-left lane behind a car that immediately put on its turn indicator. "Whoopsie, wandered off into fantasy land there."
"Sometimes I'd like to be a kit again too," Judy mused, "takes being an adult to realize how good you had it then. Even in school!" She choked off a laugh; her ears splayed and paws flew to her muzzle. "Sorry Nick! I didn't think...I just assumed everyb..."
"Steady, Carrots; it's all right. Mine was mostly good too, until I left and screwed it up. Years later I got lucky and some bunny rescued me." He let his voice become more serious. "Recently, I thought I'd lost that wonderful bunny; I was so happy to get her back this morning. Who do I thank for finding you—or maybe for writing you the prescription?"
"I'm not on anything, nosy fox. I just finally had a chance to unwind—to get a break."
"There has to be more to it, and you know I won't let up until you confess rabbit! A session with the shrink to get reinstated doesn't sound relaxing, so either the elixir of happiness just hit the market, or maybe you made some kind of...connection with Winter?" Bingo—her eyes widened at the mention of the agent's name.
"OK, we had a nice dinner and a good long talk afterwards. She's actually pretty cool if you take the time to get to know her," his bunny companion said a little too casually.
"With an arrest in the middle for dessert." Nick pulled into the precinct lot and parked over by the small maintenance bay. He shut off the engine, and gave her his full attention. She signaled her acquiescence with a half-smile and winsome little sigh.
"We didn't expect that, but it was a great ice breaker! Messed up my best skirt. All right Nick—once we'd talked, Skye suggested we relax at the groomer's. We actually found one that wasn't just open late, but had a rabbit specialist! Nick, it was so wonderful! I'd never been groomed quite like that before—it's been months since my last by someone else; and that was with my sister Emily. Skye was so considerate! She was stuck with a trainee, but said she didn't mind since she was still shedding." Judy's eyes were shining, and she looked a bit...hopeful. Hmmm.
"Was this an establishment we're both already familiar with, dear Carrots?" Nick tilted his muzzle down a trifle and pricked his ears at her.
"No! It wasn't that place...that...Mystic Spring one. This one was reputable, first class!"
"Sounds good; and they don't seem to mind fox walk-ins. Maybe I can try it out one of these days." Nick was rewarded by a distinct nose twitch and cant of ear from a caught-out bunny. Hafta file that one for future use, he noted. OK, she's softened up, but not really upset, that's good. "Anything interesting come up in your discussion with...did I hear she's Skye now?" Another nose twitch, a pause, then sudden animation.
"She's quite interesting and actually comes from overseas! With her background, you'd never expect her to end up with the ZBI. And yes, I seem to have found another fox friend; she's Skye and I'm Judy now!"
"I thought she had an accent—though she covers it well. Seems like you two females got beyond just business and maybe touched on friends and family?" Her eyes widened even further as he aligned his muzzle with hers and leaned to slowly close the distance. "Did foxy mention anything...scandalous!" He watched the certainty slowly spread across her face.
"You know," Judy said firmly. "You've already talked with..."
"Savage. Yeah, he told me they're mates. I sensed something between them before, but didn't believe it at first. Didn't even have to say much before he opened up."
"At least you had some idea, I was hit all at once when Skye got curious about us, and I realized that's why she wanted to talk to me so badly. They're not just alone within the ZBI Nick, I think they've totally isolated themselves socially!"
"Probably had to; who would approve of them? So they met us and saw themselves—a sudden opportunity to relate and be accepted. I'm certain we're the only ones that know—Savage seemed so relieved once he admitted it. Carrots, I'm still amazed they just assumed we shared a bond like theirs! What did they see?" Her suddenly crestfallen face stopped him.
Thin ice fox! No time to analyze, Back—Away—Slowly!
"Sooo, anyway," Nick said more tersely than he'd intended, "they've revealed everything about themselves to us, but we shouldn't until we first decide how we'll...present ourselves." The dejection on her face contracted further into raw pain in her eyes; better drop this! "Let's see the chief now before he gets suspicious and makes his own assumptions!" She was out of her door before he unlatched his.
Judy bolted for the back entrance as he strolled behind to give her time. He'd just wait near the ladies room until she composed herself. She so worried about how they appeared together in public...but that couldn't be enough to make her look so...hurt. Somehow, the two agents admitted relationship had really affected...
The rear door's inset window reflected a thoughtful red fox officer's face as he reached for its handle—and stopped. "Those that are closest together are the last to see." Nick had the singular experience of watching himself at the exact moment that he realized her pain had mirrored his perfectly. She'd hidden it like him; she'd hurt like him; she was...maybe she couldn't admit it yet, but as he'd chosen her—she'd also chosen him!
The reflective fox jumped aside as Nick opened the door and willed himself to walk down the hall without leaping and yipping in joy. He caught up with his true partner as she left the room of requirement—she turned to give him a brief glance, which became a look of surprise as he maintained it with a gentle finger under her modest chin.
"Judy Hopps, I just realized that I've been a really really stupid fox—I have everything I'll ever want right here—I knew it right after I threw it all...pushed you away. Then I... I've been afraid of you, of letting you all the way back in...to be us!" Her ears lifted, and tugged an open smile in their wake. "Judy...I..." Nick could barely squeeze his muted words out. Her bottomless eyes invited him closer—small paws suddenly grasped his muzzle and hushed it.
"Lobby...end of hall...Clawhauser!" she gasped before her voice steadied. "He'll bust every window in the station if he hears us!" she fervently whispered. They both quickly scanned the thankfully empty and silent hallway.
"You're right, we gotta...keep this mum!" He took a few calming breaths and managed to resist the overwhelming urge to snatch her up and claim her right there. "Let's just be cool with everybody and be extra professional around Bogo," he told mostly himself. "OK Carrots, we need to go see the chief before he thinks the fifth grade is holding us hostage!"
"Professional? Then we'd better be Wilde—Hopps, as she pointed to them both. "I think I like the sound of that," she said over her shoulder as she skipped towards the elevators.
"I am pleased that the two of you are apparently fit for duty again," chief Bogo said with an appraising look. "Who should I thank for this state of affairs? The ZBI, or the West Savanna Unified School District?"
"Sir, If anyone's going to eventually save Zootopia from itself, it's the kits," Judy said through her still broad smile. "We both just needed the reminder."
"I didn't realize that elementary school duty could be this therapeutic for my officers. Were you able to accommodate yourselves with Winter and Savage?" That came with more penetrating scrutiny from the cape buffalo.
"Yes sir; we'll make a good team," Nick said carefully. "We're very comfortable together now." Carrots gave an affirmative nod from beside him in Bogo's office hot seat.
"That phrase still concerns me, Wilde. Your own partnership already attracts notice; I did not expect to deal with a second so analogous. I expect you all will avoid any possible personal issues that will affect your performances?"
"I guarantee sir, there will be nothing of the sort between the ZPD and the ZBI," Judy clarified briskly. Nick kept silent and avoided the perils of further explanation.
"Humph! Just try to restrain Wilde's behavior. I would prefer that the ZBI retain a professional impression of this department." Chief Bogo picked up a thin report from his desk and waved it slightly at him. "An internal matter has come to my attention that concerns Officer Wilde; give us a few minutes first, Hopps."
"She can stay sir," Nick said evenly, "I have nothing to hide from my partner." Bogo's eyes widened slightly, as the smaller of the two officers hadn't even moved to leave.
"Very well; this concerns your application to the Zootopia Police Academy eight months ago. That, as we all remember, was a rather rushed affair to get you accepted in time for the fall class of cadets. One requirement was to attach three official recommendations; due to your past, we only had Hopps's and mine. I was prepared to write a temporary waiver for the last, as I doubted the new interim mayor or council would respond in time. I now regret that due to the chaos back then, I hastily accepted the fortuitous arrival of a reference..."
"From the ZBI," Nick stated. The look on Judy and Bogo's faces was curiously similar in spite of species and size differences. "Agent Savage mentioned it to me the other night, but didn't reveal whose it was."
A wisp of bovine breath washed over them as the chief stood and held out the report for him. "The ZBI has just withdrawn their prior endorsement based on the discovery of an apparent bribe made on your behalf. I am certain Wilde, that its source will be traced back either to you, or a past unsavory associate of yours. Now, before you look at the name on this report, understand that you still have my full confidence!"
His recommendation was a succinct two-paragraph endorsement signed by—S. Winter, ZBI Information Directorate, plus an official seal. A needlessly large outlined 'RESCINDED' was stamped across it. He felt Carrots reaction through the seat as she saw Skye's name, although she stayed silent and kept reading. The rest of the confidential report noted the agent's likely connection to financial irregularities still under investigation. There was a distinct scent of fishmarket to this.
"Chief Bogo, they're setting both of them up now!" Judy said. "Because they're foxes?"
"Winter also agrees, and yes," the buffalo said quietly, "This does match the one in Wilde's file, and I gave her a copy of this report not two hours ago. I expect you will have a rather interesting discussion with her tonight. It appears that at least this one of our adversary's schemes started before our two agents suspected anything amiss at the ZBI, and may overlap with your solving of the savage predator crisis."
"Chief? Did Winter say why she issued this?" Nick dismissively flipped it back onto Bogo's desk. "Was she instructed to?" He suddenly felt hollow inside—Skye had sensed a set-up before and avoided it; Jack mentioned that others had been set up too. But why would they plant something through her, to be useful against him before he was even in law enforcement? Then they decided to keep it in reserve until now...
"She was Wilde, which implies that someone close to us, likely in city hall, shares the ZBI conspirator's agenda and watched for opportunities. Only a few of us back then knew of your intentions to join this department. There are far too many possibilities suggested by the prior and present timings of this, and of why an apparently still ongoing ZBI investigation was even revealed to me." Chief Bogo looked pensive, then pinched a paper scrap off his desk.
"This all needs to be kept well away from Savanna Central; we have to assume the city's agencies are as compromised as the ZBI. The appearance of routine activities is our best protection—I don't want to see you here beyond them! If I need to be informed Wilde, be a wise ass. You five have a substantial set of circumstances to unravel together, meet at this location, six tonight, and dinner will be served." Bogo extended his burly arm.
Nick got out of the chair and took the folded sticky note from the chief's hoof, peeled it open and examined the cryptic address. He nodded to the chief. "Got it. Who's our fifth subversive?" Bogo had to have a good reason to want to expand their clandestine group.
"The instigator of our involvement in this whole mess. Doctor Soren has convinced me of her utility and right to be included. Until then, set aside any individual speculations as I have a new assignment for you both." The chief proffered another folder.
"This should be a simple follow-up to our recent recovery of stolen property from the AblePaws corporation," Bogo continued. "Their management now thinks that may have involved industrial espionage by a competitor. This is a prominent predator owned manufacturer, and I am concerned that there might be more than coincidence involved. Find out if this is just a business issue, or if there are any broader connections. They're in the South Savanna industrial zone, across from the Riverside ZTA station. Use the cover that you're there to do some product evaluation for us. Dismissed," Bogo said wearily.
AblePaws Inc. turned out to be a modest four-story office block adjoining two large tilt-up concrete commercial buildings—all in a fairly clean, decently landscaped area. Carrots' face had betrayed her expectation of finding something more akin to a steel mill.
Bogo's justification quickly got them sent up the elevator, where an elegantly dressed young lynx was waiting for them. She led them into an executive office where a remarkably similar older version rose to greet them. Both females were taller than he was.
"Thank you Cassie. See if you can find Ross, then tell marketing they have another hour to brainstorm before I'm done here. Thank you for coming officers, I'm Sandra Pouncet, owner and CEO of AblePaws." She came around a desk cluttered enough to show her active involvement in operations, and nodded in recognition at Carrots. "I did not expect that our complaint would rate a visit from our illustrious Officer Hopps!" Carrots responded with a demure smile, so Nick introduced himself before the door reopened to admit an otter lugging a briefcase. "And this is Ross Stillwater, our head production engineer. Please, be seated."
"I am afraid," the lynx began, "that our problems did not end with your recovery of our property last month. That was just the beginning of them. I'm certain that someone unknown, for reasons I cannot fathom, is trying to ruin our reputation and drive down our market share!" Ms. Pouncet fiddled briefly with one of her ear tassels, then caught herself.
"Our report implies that you thought one of your competitors would be responsible for this," Carrots said, opening the folder. "But you seem unwilling to go with that now."
"I do officer Hopps, for good reason. This will require some background if you'll bear with me. There are only three major firms that make augmentation prosthetics. We are the technological leaders by far, and make high-end custom products for a broad range of mid-sized and a few smaller mammals. We sell mostly to government agencies, businesses, research and medical professionals, and affluent individuals. We hold one quarter of the total market." The lynx rose, and stepped back to her desk with a rapid grace that belied her age. She scooped up and passed them a few brochures. "That one is ours," she said proudly.
"These cost as much as some cars!" Judy gasped as her face went protean. Nick managed to stifle any reaction to her precious expressions lest he pay for it later.
"And they're worth every dollar because we measure and custom build for the individual. Now, that gaudier catalog is from Empower Incorporated, which holds seventy percent of the market. Theirs are generic mass-produced products widely advertised and sold in retail shops and on-line. They do not have the versatility we offer, or the technical and manufacturing ability to compete with any part of our market."
Nick leafed through the list of products for the everymammal—with wince-worthy monikers like—Capabilizer, Accessible Ewe, Sowlutions, Seize your Deftiny, and from that horrible ad, The Clasper!
"The third is Dextron Manufacturing. They specialize in very large mammals only— above equine. They hold five percent of the market, and we barely compete at all with them.
"You don't try to cover your prosthetics at all, I see," Judy commented, as she continued to look at the brochure wide eyed. "These look so mechanical compared to theirs."
"Would you put fur on a hammer or pliers? These are tools, and we don't compromise their functionality!" Pouncet smiled at the otter. "Mr. Stillwater?"
They were given examples from his case. Nick was surprised at how small and light his was, and the delicate articulated parts evoked watchmaker rather than car mechanic. He stuck a finger into the contoured sleeve, and was able to move a few parts.
"These are from our Microfast line; note the quick change effector heads. They are popular with artisans, surgeons, and hi-tech industries. This one is a Holdfast example for professional chefs. It helps prevent scalds, and has an infra-red sensor here; you only have to point at the inside of an oven, or the contents of a pot to determine its exact temperature!"
Mr. Stillwater placed another unit on his paw and deftly twirled a pen about with the softly clicking mechanical digits—which had Nick wondering if there was a cardsharp model. From Carrots rapt gaze, this one was apparently designed to hypnotize rabbits.
"These are demonstration models similar to the ones stolen from our Palm Galleria display store." Pouncet raise her voice slightly to get them back on track. "The thieves likely found them unfenceable as they are both serialized, and were mounted on display sleeves. Remember, our actuators and control sleeves are customized for the individual—the stolen items were not fully functional." She waved a paw at the otter.
"That was what we assumed until recently," said Stillwater. He pulled more devices out of the briefcase. "These are two of the actual stolen items. We now know they were partially disassembled, deliberately degraded, then reassembled before their recovery. Skilled people did this. They annealed heat-treated parts—likely in a small induction furnace—so they would wear and fail prematurely! We only found out when an inspection tech spotted this subtle color banding on the annealed parts." Stillwater held the AblePaw up in the wedge of sunlight that slanted through the window, and pointed out the tinted flaws with his pen.
"We have also just received our first customer complaints about quality and durability issues. Somehow, more of these altered parts have gotten into our manufacturing stream in spite of our quality controls. This is sophisticated sabotage!" Stillwater said angrily.
"We are not a publicly held company, and our main competitor cannot easily exploit our difficulties, so I don't see this being done for financial reasons," Pouncet resumed. "We are taking measures to increase security and inspections, but I don't know if those will be enough to stop this attack on my company and its reputation! Officers, you need to help us find out who's doing this to us and why!"
"Ms. Pouncet," Judy said slowly, "how well-regarded do you consider yourself and your company to be in the community? I mean, do most see you as only a big company, or maybe an exclusive one, or as one run by predators?"
"I see Officer Hopps," Pouncet looked ill at ease. "We're socially and commercially quite visible. Due to the high cost of most of our products, and that a large majority of our individual customers are prey species, it's to our benefit to be seen as supporting various civic causes. We have always been aware that offering a helping paw to our less dexterous customer base engenders some resentment. That's why we market ourselves as a maker of precision tools, rather than as helping to correct someone's perceived disability. Do you think that this might somehow still be related to the unpleasantness last summer?"
Clever kitty, Nick thought, as Carrots told her it was possible. These devices were an embarrassing but necessary reality in many mammals' lives. Some might need one or two on the job, and more had some form of them at home for convenience; but it was still considered shameful by most to be seen using them in public. Particularly for some, if the best ones were from a visibly pred run company. If this was a part of the larger organized anti-pred con—he felt it was more likely since he'd just been set-up too...
"They're expending way too much effort here just to discredit you or your products Ms. Pouncet, a con like this needs to have a bigger payoff—like your whole company," Nick concluded. "It's always the money, probably a product liability insurance scam."
"We shouldn't speculate without more evidence Nick, we're not detectives!" Carrots objected. "We don't have any idea whose behind this yet."
"I know...officer Hopps," he reminded her to watch the familiarity. "But while we're gathering that evidence, these mammals need to take preventative measures against what I'm afraid is going to happen to them!"
"What would that be and what are your recommendations officer Wilde," Pouncet said with keen interest. Stillwater stopped putting away his demo items and listened as well.
"Our...adversaries—and I'm afraid this does go far beyond you—are trying to slowly change the general public's view of your products. Can I assume that you don't carry a large amount of liability insurance, and rely on your reputation for quality?" They both gave him an uncomfortable nod. "Have you even told your lawyers about this yet?"
"We have product limitation warnings, and customer training is included in the price," Stillwater said. "We also register our purchasers to control secondary sales," added Pouncet.
"Here's how I think it'll go down," Nick said as he stood, then dramatically pointed a digit at the floor. "You said your first few customers have started to complain; I'm sure you'll get more; then maybe in a few weeks you'll see a story planted in the news to reinforce the word of mouth spread about overpriced junk. That forces you on the defensive to publicly offer repairs or compensation and there goes your rep for quality. The more you try to publicly fight it, the more attention you'll draw to the issue, and the weaker your position becomes. That's what they want. This is a long con; they can drag it out as far as they need to."
"You spin an elaborate conspiracy, Officer Wilde, and imply a 'they' more powerful than business competitors or even organized crime," Pouncet said. "Do you seriously think it's forces working within the...authorities again?" It was awful what his small nod did to her patterned feline face.
"I agree with the fox," said Stillwater. "Whoever's after us seems to have planned this to make it difficult for us to defend ourselves. Any explanations of ours will sound like we're using a wild conspiracy to cover up our failures."
"They'll make sure it does. That will set you up for the finish. That's when they'll hit you with some kind of accident and a big lawsuit to bankrupt you! I'm sure they'll have an altered product in-paw, and an incident planned for the right time. So we have to catch them at it and expose them first!" Nick watched the silent faces on the other three as several seconds ticked by; good logic had a power of its own.
"It's not accidental that I'm talking with you two officers, is it?" Pouncet said quietly.
"No it's not," he told the lynx who was now gripping her paws tightly. "We have suspicions—and some recent leads like your present problem—that we only stopped part of a larger anti predator agenda last year. I need to caution you not to discuss this with anyone or take any obvious steps that might tip off our...opposition. We're in the early stages of understanding all the connections and gathering evidence, so more than anything else we need time to work. I think we have a few weeks before they're ready to do anything more evident against your company."
"Ross, we need to find out where this part tampering is being done," Pouncet said. "And we also need a way to check for weakened pieces at assembly if receiving isn't catching them. Is it just a few, or are we losing whole lots?"
"We do final finish work here after the initial heat treat, so it has to be done either here, or the completed parts are taken off-site and then brought back." The otter pondered for several seconds. "The first alterations were to the stolen units...so I'm assuming for now this is being done off-site. I don't think it involves a large percentage of the parts at this time."
"I'd like you to write up a report about what you've found being done to your products," Carrots said, jumping back in the conversation. "If we could have that, along with a few of the altered parts, we could put them into evidence. That would show your awareness and openness about the problem, and might reduce your liability later."
"If my initial summary is OK, you can have them today," Stillwater said.
"And don't tell anyone you don't trust that you've caught on to the sabotage, or that you've reported it to us. We need to keep the opposition, as Officer Wilde politely called them, ignorant of our knowledge of the scheme. If we have to contact you directly again here, it'll be by someone else in plainclothes, we're too visible now. If anyone asks about us being here today, tell em you're trying to get a law enforcement contract!" Carrots said as she shot him a brief smile; he so enjoyed seeing his bunny developing her street smarts.
"What kind of security controls do you have for parts brought in or taken off site? Do you keep an inventory?" Nick asked.
"We really don't," admitted the otter engineer. "Nearly all of the parts in question are small, say one to four centimeters long. We track batches mostly. Many are standard parts across several of our models and we use thousands of them. Someone could swipe a pawful from a tray and no one would be the wiser. We've never really had a pilfering problem since they're small enough that, say a recycler would pay almost nothing for them."
"Is it possible that the initial robbery was to get examples for study...to figure out the best ways to alter them? Maybe they didn't want to use ones already out in the field since you said they are registered to users." Carrots' ears leaned forward a bit above a frown of continued concentration. "Mr. Stillwater, you implied that there has to be someone on the inside here to take and return the parts," She looked to the lynx CEO. "Can we have a list of employees hired recently? So we can check backgrounds?"
"I assume you want to go back to before the robbery?" Pouncet asked. "Just the usual few production workers since then—we have over eighteen hundred mostly small mammals here—five or so is normal turnover per month. I'll have Mr. Dustin get you that; he's been setting up our new tracking and security measures."
"Him too, if you please," Nick requested. "I assume he's one of the recent measures you've taken? If so, I need to keep him out of this until we check!"
"He's a highly experienced and recommended professional, Officer Wilde," Pouncet said, her short tail slowly waving, "we were fortunate to find him, and I expected that you two would work well together. We need all the resources we can get to uncover this."
"Now I really want to check him out first!" His own tail was perfectly still.
Carrots bounded out into the rush-hour chaos of the Little Rodentia ZTA station—armed with his scribbled instructions as to where to rendezvous. The next stop was his, with a good mile and a half walk from there to home. It was warm enough that he'd probably need a quick cool down shower when he arrived. At the one-mile point he walked right past the much more convenient for him Pack Street station. Unfortunately, to get from one to the other by rail almost required a grand tour of Zootopia.
He'd be back here soon enough as a much less official fox. The local liquor store was close by to entice thirsty commuters; so he walked in and caught the attention of the Wombat on duty—who started a bit because of cop.
"Dinner invite at somebody new's home, mixed group with herbivores, half dozen, need something decent but not snobbish. I'll pick it up on my way back." He nodded his approval at the recommendation, paid and left.
It had cooled somewhat by the time Nick recrossed Pack Street with the bottle of Jerboa 02 wrapped in the deep green jacket he'd once used for classier hustles. The joint road and rail bridge on his right crossed the divide cut between Savanna Central and the Rainforest District beyond. The narrow but energetic river beneath it had collected, among others, his backyard creek somewhere upstream. He followed the winding road parallel to it downslope another mile or so to the Divide Terraces station—if anything, an even more inconveniently circuitous route away from where he lived.
He found the stairs the specified two blocks beyond the station, and stopped at the top of a long straight descent to a now wider and slower river. Some lights were already visible below; the depth of the river cut, and the canopy of trees effectively blocked what sunlight remained up here at street level.
Nick Wilde stood above the dusky vista as a tranquilizing weakness completed its spread through his body—during his walk illusory spiders had crawled up his spine, deadening successive pairs of nerves with their venom. They'd allowed him to internalize his earlier revelation by numbing any distractions. Now one had reached his brain to pry out a deeply hidden anxiety that he hadn't realized was shared. He placed a paw on the top railing and leaned against it, staring down the steps. Judy had been making the same noble sacrifice Jack has accused him of selfishly doing. Protecting him...from her. How long would they have frustrated themselves in matched but separate anguish had Jack and Skye not seen and forced the issue? He didn't know if they could have resolved their dilemma; they might have just continued to endure until one of them...broke.
Thankfully that was over, they were mates but for the ceremony—this was one of those irrevocable transitions in life. They'd had their doubts about the feasibility and permanence of a relationship, now they didn't. But issues about the propriety of their choice remained, and would be a permanent stigma on their lives. Except for their new friends and partners in deviancy, they would need to be deceitful with all those who were close to them.
Like Judy's family. The Hopps were close-knit enough that her trying to keep this secret from them would only layer a loss of trust onto the inevitable shame and estrangement she'd have to bear. She'd known that, and had still chosen to be with him. His warmth for her didn't stop a pang of sorrow at her willing sacrifice of an oft-described loving family.
It would be easier for him; mom was grateful for Judy's efforts to reconcile them, and had asked about her on his last visit. With time, he knew his bunny would grow on her enough to reduce the shock of his unconventional choice of mate. Of course, mom was an observant vixen and might figure it out herself.
Nick set the bottle aside briefly to put on his jacket and make sure he was a presentable guest, as he was already a few minutes late. He started down the steps without any protest from his leg, and surveyed doctor skunk's neighborhood. The slopes on either bank showed a myriad of inset doors and windows separated into levels by the meandering paths that gave the area it's name. He spotted a number of otters, beaver, and muskrats along the riverbanks and lower walkways, along with a few Coypu to remind him of their distant, problematic cousins. He turned right on the first cross path—Soren's was the third door along.
His nose was guided there by enticing scents that wafted from the open window by the round-topped wooden door. There was enough room between the front of the residence and the path to allow for a planter with several small bushes and a ceramic dinosaur. A mute windchime hung from a shingled awning over the door—which on closer inspection had somewhat wavy edges carefully fitted into its frame, and several apparently in-progress carvings. It all fit right in with the rest of her neighborhood's decor.
His knock summoned Jack, who took the winebottle and closed the door behind him. "The fox has brought an acceptable offering," the hare stated as he took it to a dining table further back and placed it next to a six-pack of foxy girlfriend. Carrots was rapidly laying out the place settings, while Skye and Dr. Soren were in the kitchen at the front, the skunk occasionally stirring the contents of one of the two pots on the stove.
The sable scientist turned and smiled. "Welcome to my dig Nicholas! Make yourself at home; everything's well in paw." Her apron was decorated with several prehistoric animals and enough faint stains and wrinkles to show regular use.
"Sure I can't help doctor Soren?" Nick said, as Judith's smirk acknowledged her culpability.
"Kristen. Just go sit. We're almost ready to serve!" Their host covered the pots and reached above them to close thick wood shutters over the window.
Someone with cursive skill had made paper name tags; Soren's place was at one end, with foxes to her left, rabbits to her right. They'd put him between Skye and Soren's fluffy tails...deliberately. Jack sat too; Nick cocked an eyebrow and pointed at the beer. He got a shake, no, and the agent's finger implicated Skye.
A gray whirlwind served chilled salads, as Soren placed the pots in the middle of the table. As the skunk turned to her seat, she managed to drag the tip of her tail under Nick's and set it happily wagging. He regarded her with lidded eyes, and a big smile. If the expected etiquette here included suggestive play, he'd accept the challenge! Then his tail thumped something. He knew it was Skye before he turned to see the cheeky vixen slip innocently into her seat right next to him. Carrots placed her salad, then sat behind it and watched him benignly.
Nick understood—they all badly needed some domestic calm before the coming storm. He reminded himself again to watch the familiarity, as their newest member was...unaware of the social dynamic of all of her guests. Although, Dr Sor...Kristen hadn't seemed to mind some occasional cross-species flirting with him.
"Must be losing my touch. Had all three of you revved up last time! Can I assume Officer Hopps, that tonight won't show up in my next performance evaluation?"
"You're off Judy tonight...Nick," his Carrots said smoothly to a snicker from Jack. Certainly a prepared line; from her tone she'd been waiting to use it. She turned and drew their gazes to the head of the table where Kristen remained seemingly oblivious.
"Fullest table I've had in awhile," the skunk said, patting her paws. "Our custom has been to have the last arrival give the invocation for our food!" Nick set his fork back down.
It didn't take a clever fox to realize she was still playing with him, so he dipped his muzzle and tried to look solemn.
"Looks good! Smells great! Let's eat!" he said swiftly as he snatched the fork and stabbed his blueberry and greens salad to general laughter. Skye's was similar, and the lagomorphs opposite dug into their more varied and elaborate concoctions. Their hostess's was unique, with everything from string beans to a few banana slices visible.
She had gone to a lot of work to accommodate them. Her old but serviceable dining set had been pre-adjusted to their heights, decorations placed about, and the stews in the pots had likely simmered on the stove for awhile. One was veggie heavy; the other had satisfyingly large Proteo chunks disguised among the potatoes. They'd done it right and hadn't overcooked and softened the meat substitute—Skye had obviously come here early to help.
The events at the school and some safely distant childhood experiences sufficed as conversation for their thoroughly satisfying meal. Once they'd cleaned up for her, Kristen lead them on a tour. Her burrow extended deeper into the bank than he'd expected, with room for all of them to stay if they doubled up. The last chamber had unfinished shale walls and provided considerable storage space. Again, his nose failed to detect any trace of skunky essence. Once back at the table, Jack eased them into their deferred underground conclave.
"Couldn't have asked for a better safe house if I'd written the specs myself! Out of the way but not suspiciously isolated, has heavy door and shutters, nice thick stone walls, and nothing bigger than a small wolf can easily move around in here. And it comes with a great cook! I wouldn't have thought of that detail." Jack Savage traded smiles with the skunk, while Skye seemingly ignored him, then around at the rest of them as his face slowly hardened. "Well, let's get to it. As I feared earlier, our speciest conspirators have accelerated their activities, the Fairfield discovery and yours truly definitely got their attention!"
"As did we," Skye said. "Early this morning I received instructions to confiscate the Mara fossil and return with it to Concordia and the national museum." Kristen nodded to confirm.
"Shit! So their gonna split us up," Jack snapped, followed by an audible growl.
Nick flashed back to the first time he'd heard Carrots do that after one of his more egregious stunts, it had been...unexpected to be growled at by a rabbit. "We've got some news too, a new case that's got to be related to all this."
"I assume Bogo told you about the bribe?" Skye added. Jack looked quickly back and forth at them, surprised by the non-exclusivity of his having breaking news for them.
"Yeah, of course. They'll spring that trap when you return, you know that," Nick said. "Then I'm next—Bogo will push back until they come up with hard enough evidence to convince him. I really don't have the financial records for them to fiddle with convincingly, so I might have a couple more weeks than you do Skye." The vixen's face appreciated his initial use of her first name.
"That should help me as well," she said. "I might be censured or suspended, but they won't risk the bad optics of incarcerating me too soon without a solid case. If I'm wrong, and have to disappear, I'm prepared, and we'll exchange means of contact before I go."
"What's the timeline for this?" Jack asked tersely.
"Three days; Friday noon I'll fly back." Skye turned to look at Soren with concern etched on her muzzle. "Are you all right dear?"
Their skunk paleontologist sat very still with eyes wide enough to rival Carrot's. Their irises were brown, he noted. Her tail was on the floor and mouth open.
"I don't think our hostess was fully briefed before she volunteered to join our subversive and dangerous lives as agents," Jack observed without reaction from the skunk.
"Well," Nick drawled, "she already knows enough that we would have t...OW!" He grabbed his stinging shin; the force of Carrot's kick had slid her chair back audibly. "Sorry!" He rubbed the reminder that Kristen hadn't been privy to their joint discussions with chief Bogo.
That broke Kristen out of her trance, and now all three ladies angrily glared at him. Skye briefly held her claws-out-paw near his muzzle and got a firm look of sanction from Judy, who favored him with another lapine growl. Yep, he'd overdone it and was in debt again. No response was his best option.
"We can no longer indulge in those kinds of Wilde witticisms," Skye stated, "there's enough serious issues for all of us to deal with. Kristen, last year's crisis was only part of a much larger anti predator conspiracy, we're still discovering new facets of it. Perhaps our Mr. Wilde could start with the one they found. Her clear blue eyes compelled his best behavior from now on.
"AblePaws is a pred-run prosthetics company almost certainly being set-up for takeover through a product liability scheme." That perked up the skunk—she obviously knew about them. "We were assigned to follow-up an earlier robbery and found that sophisticated product sabotage is being done by as yet unidentified persons." Nick was grateful he had their serious attention back. "This is a long-term effort, and Judy and I think we have several weeks before they make their move. We'll be trying to trace the source of the sabotage—we all agree it has to be from the inside. For now, we're checking the backgrounds of recent hires and company security before we undertake any joint investigations with them."
"Sounds good. We can probably run backgrounds faster than the ZPD can if you want Wilde," Jack offered, "can you get me...oh?"
Carrots already had their list out of her pawbag and passed it over. "The photo is their new security hire; Nick seemed wary of him," she told the hare.
Jack glanced at it and passed it to Skye—who exploded before it reached her paw.
"That son of a..." The vixen caught herself and pointed at the photo of the slender, dapper coyote on the table. "That's your inside saboteur! He's ex ZBI!"
"Thought it was your ex boyfriend," Jack snarked gently. "We all thought he'd been canned for workplace harassment of agent Winter here. Seems he's still working for someone there under this name. His last name isn't Dustin; it's Clifton. Good catch Wilde."
"Why would he be working with the anti-pred forces to bring down this company?"
"I don't know Judy," Jack said. "He had supremacist tendencies from what I heard; maybe someone found some twisted way to take advantage of that. Still, this fits disturbingly well alongside my new assignment! I'm to investigate Proteo Foods for any possible evidence that they've sourced actual mammalian meat for their synthetic products."
"I've never been so happy to be an herbivore," Judy said flatly. "Dad was right; should've stayed on the farm."
"Now the biggest pred owned company out there is in their sights." Skye said. "As Jack anticipated, events have forced the paws of the conspirators to prematurely advance their full agenda. Would you like proof?" No one filled her dramatic pause.
"It's not just Wesley that's being brought in, I'm also overseeing a guard detail transferring a prisoner to federal custody." Skye waited for them—Carrots beat him to it.
"Dawn Bellwether."
Skye nodded.
Later this night Judy and Nick will explore their newly recognized mutual status in our next installment—Chapter 10: Transition and Acceptance