Archives of the Friendquisition

by Inquisipony Stallius

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Caballus was speechless.

“What… what are they doing here?” he finally said.

“Couldn’t tell you,” Fyzzix said nonchalantly. “They rolled in about midnight, no lights, not even any comm traffic. Kind of like us. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed them if I had had anything better to do than stare at my auspex all night. Didn’t see any reason to hail them without you.”

Caballus surveyed the cluster of craft hanging in the air over Applemattox. They had been gradually growing in the window, one large ship, and about five smaller support craft surrounding it.

“There,” he said, pointing at the flagship. “I’d like to have a little chat with them.”

The Inquisipony returned to the rest of the team, where Roughshod was helping Hairtrigger get his wing into a proper sling. Mystic’s leg was already in a brace, and she was rummaging through the Majesty’s medical supplies.

“What’s the good word, boss?” Roughshod asked cheerily. “Is the cavalry on their way?”

“That’s the thing,” Caballus replied. “They’re already here. In fact, Fyzzix says a navy flotilla arrived last night while we were down in the caves.”

All three of them were visibly surprised by this, Roughshod and Mystic going over to the nearest porthole. Hairtrigger seemed skeptical. “Why would they be moseying around these parts? Applemattox ain’t nowhere near regular navy patrol lanes.”

“That’s what I intend to find out first.” said Caballus. “Then maybe they can make themselves useful and help us capture Sniffles.”

A beeping noise rang from the cockpit. “Incoming transmission, Cab,” Fyzzix called.

The Inquisipony returned to the Meq-priest’s side. He gave a nod and Fyzzix opened the channel.

“Attention, incoming aircraft,” droned an artificial voice, “you are ordered to break course immediately and proceed to the following coordinates.”

Caballus pressed the vox transmitter and leaned in toward the microphone. “This is Inquisipony Caballus, of the Ordo Hereticolt. I am requesting a meeting with this battlegroup’s commanding officer.” He fitted his rosette into a socket on the transmitter, to verify his identity, and to ensure his request was understood to be mandatory.

After a minute or so, the transmitter chimed again. “Request granted. Continue on your present course.”

“You may not want to be too pushy,” Fyzzix said, surveying his instruments. “That flagship is a Pony Marine Strike Cruiser.”

“Now you tell me,” said Caballus. A member of the Inquisition might have the power, on paper, to command any individual in all of Equestria if they deemed it necessary, but there were still those whom it paid to ask nicely. The Pony Marines tended to take direct demands by any other organization as an unacceptable infringement on their autonomy, so a certain level of tact was usually required to secure their cooperation. The poor manners of one headstrong Inquisipony could set off a feud that might end in the excommunication and annihilation of an entire chapter. And that was only if they didn’t escape into the wilderness, where they might turn to the powers of Darkness just to survive. It was not without precedent.

Thankfully, Banehoof had taught Caballus the proper manners for dealing with Pony Marines: treat them as equals, be polite and brief, and ask, rather than tell. If you can manage not to offend them or convince them you are wasting their time, he had said, they could actually be quite pleasant.

By the time the Majesty passed between the nearest escort ships, the Strike Cruiser filled the entire window. Skimming the readout automatically displayed by the ship’s instruments, Caballus could see it was Destrier class vessel, nearly 700 meters long, and armed to the teeth. Like most airships of its size, its superstructure was built mostly inside the rigid balloon, rather than attached underneath, with six huge propeller engines ringing the aft portion, evenly spaced apart.

The entire front end of the Cruiser was hooked like the beak of a gigantic bird of prey, and feathers had been stylized onto the hull to add to the intimidating effect. Much of said hull was the usual gunmetal grey, but even more was painted a pastel yellow, with occasional sections of light pink. Gothic steeples—which in reality were communication arrays—rose along the spine of the ship, and the sides were lined with vaulted arches that contained the launch bays. To call it a “flying fortress” would have been less than metaphorical.

Following the automated instructions, Fyzzix brought the Majesty up beside the Cruiser, like a fish swimming up alongside a whale. “A shuttle will be with you shortly,” the voice assured.

A few minutes later, the instruments alerted of an incoming craft, and Fyzzix opened the rear cargo ramp. A pair of Tech-pegasi pulling a chariot backed up to the ramp, and Caballus climbed aboard, careful to mind the gap and not look down. With the wind nearly whipping the hat from his head the entire time, it was a miracle Caballus held onto his lunch as they brought him over.

The launch bay interior was cavernous, and bustling with activity. Tech-pegasi flew from deck to deck, some tending to dozens of dropships and ground vehicles, while others busied themselves blessing hundreds of weapons and support systems. It certainly appeared as though they were preparing for war.

The chariot set down on an empty landing pad, where somepony was waiting for him. Caballus took a moment to become steady on his legs once again before he disembarked and approached his host. The Pony Marine waiting for him bore a suit of power armor the same yellow color as his ship, with pink butterflies on the left shoulder pauldron. He wore no helmet, which revealed his coal-black coat, his stony, hard-set face and piercing eyes.

“Greetings, Inquisipony Caballus,” the Marine said. His voice was remarkably soft and tranquil for such a giant. “I am Brother-Captain Steel Rein of the Fluttermanders’ sixth company. Welcome aboard the Merciful Judgement.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Caballus replied, giving a courteous bow. “I am here to speak with you about-”

“Come then,” interrupted Captain Rein, “we can speak on the bridge. This way.”

A little surprised, Caballus merely followed as the Marine led him out of the bay, down a series of winding corridors. He held his questions for the moment, leaving only the clang of the Marine’s heavy boots and hum of the ship to listen to. Even though they were spacious enough to easily accommodate the enhanced frames of the supersoldiers that used them, the halls still made him feel… claustrophobic. Perhaps he’d spent too much time underground.

Finally, the last bulkhead door parted and they entered the ship’s bridge. The semi-circular room was separated into three rings of control panels, each stepping up as one moved inward. Scores of Meq-priests, naval officers, mindless servitors and a few more Pony Marines manned the stations, handling the myriad of technical and military tasks required to run such a vessel. Caballus craned his neck upward and beheld a massive mural, painstakingly hoof-painted on the ceiling, of a yellow pegasus battling a dragon on a mountaintop.

On the highest platform in the center, where Captain Rein came to a halt, stood a crimson unicorn in a black cape, facing away from them.

“Your colleague has arrived,” the Captain said to her.

The unicorn turned from the holo-table she was surveying to Caballus. On her necklace was a polished silver “F.” A rosette.

“L-Lady Inquisipony Vigilant?” Caballus stammered.

She smirked at him. “Hello, Caballus. I must say, hearing your voice on the vox was a very pleasant surprise.”

It was unusual, though not unheard of, for the Inquisipony Lords sitting on the Tribunal to continue with their usual field work. Some viewed it as an honor and a duty to help coordinate the Ordos’ activities across the sector, while others treated it as a sabattical. But either way, they rarely left Hippopolis, or even the Black Spire.

Caballus cleared his throat. “I… I’m here on the Cheat-worm case. You were there when I delivered my report, remember?”

“Of course,” she said casually. “I was also there when my Ordo cleaned up the mess you left in the Stabledregs. But by then you were already gone.”

“I… had to follow an important lead.” said Caballus, a little hesitantly. “It led me out here, to Applemattox.”

“Well if you couldn’t guess, I’m here on business as well.” The unicorn gestured to the viewscreen beside her. “I’ve come to watch Applemattox die.”

---

Outside the town hall, the sandstorm finally seemed to be petering out. Which was a good thing, because it had been one of the worst Bucky Roo had ever seen.

It hadn’t been easy to sit around waiting for the storm to pass. The boys always got fidgety when Papa Sniffles sounded a Deep-Grabber alert and put them on guard duty. Being cooped up inside the entire time only made it worse.

“Looks like you win again, boss,” said the beige-coated bandit across from him, tossing his cards down onto the table. He had been the last of the four other players to fold.

“I always win,” Bucky said with a cigar in his smiling teeth, “and don’t you boys forget it!” He leaned in and scooped up the pile of bits on the table. “Say, now that the dust has settled, why don’t you go out and tell them boys holed up in the general store to get their flanks back out on patrol.”

“Sure thing, boss,” said Wrangler, another one of the losers.

Boss. Bucky liked the sound of that. It had only been the night before last that Sniffles had put Bucky in charge of the gang. Before then, the Marine’s right hoof in Applemattox had always been Red Bandanna. Only Red Bandanna had let the Inquisipony and his friends get away. Turns out they’d had a unicorn with them, and she’d whooped Red and his boys something fierce. Sniffles hadn’t seemed that mad at the time, but then again nopony had seen Red since. Oh well, thought Bucky, it turned into a tidy little promotion for me.

“Hey boss,” said a bandit at the window, “Wrangler’s hollering for ya.”

“What? Did he forget how to get there? It’s right across the dagburn street!” Bucky pushed himself away from the card table and poked his head out the window.

The volunteer stood in front of the store. “There ain’t nopony in here!”

“What?” Bucky yelled. “You sure they’re not just out back?”

“Lemme see,” Wrangler called back. He trotted around the side of the store, at one point nearly tripping over a pile of dirt in his way. A moment later, he came back around. “Nope. There ain’t no sign of ‘em.”

Bucky frowned. “They probably snuck off to the saloon during the storm,” he grumbled to the pony beside him. “Let’s go. Sniffles’ll have all our skins if he hears there were slackers on Grabber watch.”

Leaving two of the stallions behind at the town hall, Bucky took Wrangler and a wiry, burgundy-hued desperado named Tumbleweed with him down the main street. When they turned the corner a few minutes later, they saw a solitary figure slowly walking down the middle of the street.

“Hey there!” Bucky called out. Getting no response, so the trio trotted over. It was Rudy Begga, one of the bandits they were looking for.

“What’re you doing out here, Rudy?” Bucky demanded. “Where’s Rustler and Whiskey Barrel?”

Rudy didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him. She just kept walking, shivering as if she were cold, and mumbling to herself.

Bucky got in front of her, forcing the mare to stop. “What’s the matter with you, Rudy?”

She looked at him with wide, dead eyes. “In-Into the d-dark. They grabbed ‘em. G-Gotta get away. Gonna… gonna grab me too.”

“She’s gone moonbrained,” Bucky concluded. “Let’s get her back inside, so we can go find the others.”

After a minute or two of gentle coaxing, they managed to convince the mare to turn around and follow them back to town hall. A few times on the trip back, Rudy shrieked and tried to run away from some imaginary attacker, forcing them to chase her down and hold her until she returned to her prior daze. At first it was simply irritating, but every time Bucky looked into her eyes, the obvious terror rattled his nerves a little more. So much so that he even found himself turning phantom noises and tricks of the light into lurking Deep-Grabbers.

Not that he’d ever seen a Deep-Grabber. Nopony in living memory had seen one in Applemattox. Before, that was because the Grabbers never left any witnesses, but nowadays it was because of “Papa” Sniffles and the cult keeping everypony safe. There hadn’t been a disappearance for years, and Bucky knew that as long as they did what Sniffles said, it would stay that way.

“We found Rudy out in the street,” Bucky announced as he strode through back into the town hall. “Don’t know why, but she…”

He looked back and forth. There was no one there. The room was empty

“What in tarnation is going on?” he wondered aloud.

Behind him, the pair of bandits exchanged nervous glances. “Hey boss, where’s Six Shooter and Sundance?”

“I… I don’t know,” Bucky answered. “Let’s… let’s go back outside. I gotta find Papa Sniffles. He’ll know what’s going on.”

“Into the dark,” Rudy muttered. “They grabbed ‘em. Gone forever. Gotta get away.”

“But we haven’t seen him since he called the alert.” Wrangler said. “We don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll… he’ll be back soon,” said Bucky. “Then we’ll get this all figured out.”

There was a crash on the other side of the room. In an instant, all eyes locked on the source, slingshots pulled taut in the bandits’ teeth. The room was dark from the windows being shuttered from the sandstorm, but not completely. Still, the light they did have revealed nothing. The head bandit cautiously approached the area the noise had come from, over by the card table. A chair was now lying where it had fallen.

Bucky’s hoof bumped against something on the floor. He glanced down, then slowly bent over to pick it up, but dropped it again as soon as he recognized it. It was Sundance’s lucky hat.

He took a step back, his voice low and even. “Everypony out. Now.”

The dust hung in the air, twinkling in the shafts of pale light that peeked through the shutters. Every creaking floorboard was deafening to the ponies as they all fought the urge to flee out the door.

Although it might have been Bucky’s imagination, the light in the room seemed to dim further with every passing heartbeat. Shadows pooled in the corners of the room, spreading out across the floor like a tide. More and more of the room was being engulfed by impenetrable blackness, and imagination or not, the outlaws weren’t going to stick around to find out why or how.

Somewhere in the shadows, the wooden floor creaked. Bucky jumped, and fired wildly into the dark. Wrangler and Tumbleweed immediately joined in, unloading their slingshots in the same direction. Over and over, the three ponies blasted the area with cupcakes, until they each had emptied their first saddlebag.

Long moments stretched on without a reply, without any indication whatsoever that they had hit anything, or that anything had even been there in the first place. Bucky might have breathed a sigh of relief, if the light in the room didn’t continue to fade.

He turned around and waved his companions to the door. They beat a hasty retreat back into the road, dragging Rudy with them. Her tremors had gotten much worse during the one-sided firefight.

“Grabbed ‘em! Into the dark!” she wailed, eyes darting and limbs flailing. “They’re coming for us!”

“Would somepony shut her up!” Bucky hissed. “She’s starting to damage my calm.”

He opened his other saddlebag and reloaded his slingshot, keeping his gaze fixed on the town hall door. By now he couldn’t even see past the threshold, and smoky tendrils were beginning to creep beyond that, too.

“What are we gonna do, boss?” asked Tumbleweed. “It’s gotta be the Grabbers. It’s just- whoa!”

The ground underneath Tumbleweed exploded, throwing dirt into the air and the stallion off his hooves. Long, grasping arms shot out of the new hole, clutching his vest and his legs, dragging the kicking pony down. Bucky and Wrangler grabbed his front hooves, pulling back as hard as they could, but they were losing their friend inch by inch.

Another pair of claws lifted a rusty, iron yoke over Tumbleweed, and slammed it down on his back. The chains attached to it instantly snapped tight and the screaming bandit was yanked away from the ponies. Before they could even get a look into the hole he disappeared down, a fountain of soil filled it in, leaving a mound as the only evidence anything had even happened.

Bucky stared at the dirt pile, panting. Tumbleweed had just been standing there, and now he was gone. Forever.

“Boss,” said Wrangler softly, “I reckon we got ourselves a Deep-Grabber problem.”

“It can’t be. Sniffles… Sniffles said that if we… he promised…” Bucky sputtered. He had believed the Marine for so long, believed that everything would be fine as long as he did what he was supposed to. The decidedly not-fine turn events had taken was still sinking in, and it wasn’t settling well. Only the example of Rudy, who was now sobbing in a ball on the ground, kept him from cracking.

Laughter rang from the town hall’s interior. It startled Bucky and Wrangler to their hooves, and the pair took off down the street, leaving Rudy behind. Glancing back to see a shapeless mass of shadows slither out of the building and swallow her was the last they saw of the mare.

The stallions galloped past every storefront on main street, but every door and window was black as night, forcing them to keep running. Terrified shouts and bloodcurdling howls carried over the dry desert breeze from other parts of town. Nowhere was safe.

Bucky, getting ahead of Wrangler as they ducked into the alley between The Hitching Post and the town’s farrier, heard his friend yelp and crash to the ground. He skidded to a halt, and found the pony with a claw around his ankle, a claw belonging to a snarling, billowing void.

Wrangler scraped at the dirt, frantically struggling. “Help boss! Don’t let ‘em grab me, please!”

Bucky froze. Two more of the… things were coming up behind them. He looked into his friend’s pleading eyes, and without a word, or ever looking back, he fled. His whispered apology was drowned out as the bandit’s screams faded into the distance.

He ran and ran, even as it became all too clear there was nowhere to run to. They were everywhere, coming out of every building, ever corner, out of the very ground. No matter where Bucky ran, they followed, hunting him. He tripped, and by the time he was on his hooves again, he was surrounded.

This was it. The once proud pony sank to his haunches. He looked up into the clear, blue sky, praying desperately. The wispy clouds parted, and through his tears he thought he saw something looming abve. But the sky disappeared behind a pall of liquid darkness, and Bucky found himself face to face with the first Grabber he had ever truly seen.

It was a big, ugly creature, clad in purple and spines. He tried to bring up his slingshot, but the beast caught his hoof in its paw, and plucked the weapon away.

“Sick pony was right,” it said. “These ponies make good hunting.”

It pushed him into its fellows, who held him down and locked his own yoke around his back. He’d been grabbed, and thanks to the stories, he knew exactly where he was headed.

Into the dark.