Horte Cuisine made for the ship’s bridge first. If anypony was still awake, he knew that they would likely be watching over the communications array. He would need to deal with them before returning to the cargo hold. He could then activate the homing beacon hidden in the bottom of his crate and wait for the rest of his allies to show up.
He didn’t like making so many assumptions about the ship’s sleep cycle. The motion detector in his suit said that nopony was moving, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were asleep. He would simply have to tread lightly and hope for the best.
We’re certainly taking a lot more chances than usual these days, he thought darkly. I hate field work. Still, there is that old saying about wanting something done right. I might even put an end to all of this trouble myself, Goddesses be willing.
It was almost eerie to find the bridge abandoned when he had been prepared for a struggle. I was told that I would be dealing with professionals, Horte Cuisine thought as he glanced over the ship’s controls. A small, cheaply made lyre was resting against the instrument panel. Is it strange that I’m disappointed?
He turned around and, quite by accident, came muzzle to muzzle with the ship’s captain. Lyra dropped the muffin she was holding, eyes widening comically in surprise. The bandages around her head had been freshly changed, and she must have stopped by the galley on her way back to her post. Her arrival was so sudden that, had his life not been in danger, Horte Cuisine might have taken the time to wonder how in the ‘Verse she had managed to sneak up on him unintentionally.
After a moment of confusion, Lyra drew her pistol. She was so fast that the gun had actually cleared its holster before Horte could even move. Fortunately, he was close enough to swat it out of the air. Had they been standing even a few more inches apart, she could have killed him.
Lyra capitalized on the distraction her gun provided, and the stallion rocked back on his hooves to soften the blow as her hoof made contact with his chin. He reached for his blaster, but her magic yanked it away as it went off. The plasma bolt melted a bit of circuitry in the corridor outside.
Horte Cuisine fought back, and tackled her against the guard rail separating the seating area from the avionics bay. He targeted her head first, thinking that he could capitalize on her previous injury.
The Captain squirmed in his grip, somehow breaking free in her attempt to turn the tables. He grunted as her hooves found his mane, grabbing hold and using it to yank him aside. She punched him hard enough to bruise his jaw and hurled him into the control panel with the aid of her magic. The exertion caused the glow around her horn to sputter, and she grimaced in pain.
Before she could recover, Horte swept her legs out from under her. He kicked hard, aiming for her temple and scoring a perfect knockout.
Lyra’s weakness made binding her hooves foal’s play. Horte Cuisine hoisted her over his back, staggering slightly under the weight, and carried her toward her cabin. He had studied the schematics for Firefly vessels thoroughly, and knew that hers would be the first hatch on the left.
He was just about to dump her inside when she wrapped her forelegs around his neck and squeezed. “I’m quite impressed,” he said as he slipped out of the poorly executed choke hold. She was only halfway conscious, and had no strength left in her limbs. “I admire your spirit, though I do not envy your situation.”
After dumping the rebellious unicorn into her cabin, Horte locked the hatch firmly behind her. He worked his jaw, rubbing gently at the brand new bruises that were going to be forming soon. Sorbet is going to worry again, he thought, sighing internally. Occupational hazard, I suppose. I should make certain the other doors are locked.
After making sure that the rest of the crew were sealed into their bunks, Horte returned to the cargo hold and activated the beacon. He sat down to wait, pistol held at the ready in case he needed to defend himself until help could arrive.
I hate to admit it, he thought, but this plan worked perfectly. He had objected at first to the idea of being quietly slipped aboard an enemy vessel. It wasn’t because he doubted his own abilities; he mostly distrusted the plan it because it was Spitfire’s idea. In the end he had been ordered to go along with it, much to his distaste.
Unfortunately, Spitfire’s questionable competence in her current state of mind wasn’t the only thing that bothered him about the mission. This was the second time that his employer had undermined his authority, and it was beginning to make him nervous. He hadn’t become one of the most dangerous ponies in the entire ‘Verse without developing a healthy sense of paranoia, and that paranoia had been eating at him for weeks.
I don’t even know what I’m here for. I understand that it could be extremely sensitive material or dangerous information, but it’s already been stolen. What would anypony gain by keeping secrets about it while it’s on a ship full of criminals? He looked around surreptitiously, as though worried that his employer could somehow sense that he was about to misbehave. I suppose that I should check to make sure it’s on board. I’m not actually disobeying orders. If anything, I’m going above and beyond.
Horte Cuisine holstered his pistol and trotted up to the galley to begin his search. On the way he slipped some ice into a bag and held it to his jaw.
*****
“You’re really good at this,” Derpy said as she watched Shepherd Mac fiddle with a small radar dish. “Where did you learn to fix electronics?”
“Family had a few machines that had to be taken care of,” the Shepherd grunted. “Weren’t nothin’ like this, though. Mostly Ah just had to know where to find the duck tape.”
“You’ve got the capacitor in backwards,” Derpy giggled. “Also, that’s the wrong kind of wire. The insulation needs to be thicker or it could burn up.”
Mac set the dish down next to the mechanic and grunted in resignation. “Lost cause,” he admitted. “Illegal Cortex connections are mah limit, Ah guess.” Derpy carefully disassembled his work and returned each component to its proper place. He looked down at Vision, who had crawled into the engine room an hour ago and fallen asleep between them. “This one’s gonna give her brother a heart attack when he notices she’s missin’.”
“I know,” Derpy agreed. “He’s been so worried about her lately. It’s even worse than usual. I think he’s afraid the Captain is going to make them leave.”
“Makes sense why he’d think that,” Mac said thoughtfully. “After that incident with the gun, Lyra’s been mighty careful to keep Vision under control. Ah don’t reckon she’d actually throw ‘em out, though.”
Derpy gently rested her hoof on Vision’s shoulder. “Do you still have family somewhere?” she asked. “I mean, I was just wondering. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Mac didn’t answer right away, and at first she thought he was going to be annoyed with her.
Eventually, the big stallion was able to collect his thoughts. “Had a real big family once,” Mac said. “Two sisters and a whole mess of cousins. The sisters did pretty well for themselves; one’s a politician, other’s an engineer. Don’t reckon Ah’d like to say more than that, if’n it’s all the same.”
“That’s fine!” Derpy said, almost before he was finished speaking. She could feel a minor anxiety attack coming on, and quickly tried to change the subject. “I probably shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry. S-sometimes I don’t know when to stop prying.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Mac put one of his huge hooves on her shoulder, apparently unaware that it nearly toppled her over. “No need for it. We’re friends.” He carefully got to his hooves, stretching a bit to work the kinks out of his back. “Reckon Ah’ll go and let Tick Tock know where his sister is. Be back in a minute.”
Derpy waited patiently for Mac to return. After a few minutes she heard a loud clatter in the aft hallway, followed by something heavy dropping to the floor. She trotted out of the engine room to investigate, thinking that one of the maintenance panels must have come loose and fallen from the wall.
A strange stallion with a blue mane shoved a gun into her face and pushed her back into the engine room. “Be quiet!” he snapped when she opened her mouth to scream. “I can promise you that this finely crafted blaster makes far less noise than you would.”
Derpy glanced behind him and saw Shepherd Mac lying on the ground. “Y-you attacked a Shepherd!”
The stranger leaned into the doorway to look at Mac’s limp form. “That was hardly a Shepherd. There’s no need to panic; he’s merely sedated. Turn around, please. I’m quite capable of using force, but I would prefer to leave you unharmed. I think you’d prefer it that way too, wouldn’t you?”
Tears were beginning to wet her cheeks, but Derpy forced herself to nod. Her breaths came in short, frightened gasps as she struggled to keep her wings from flaring. She was descending into a full-blown panic attack, and the stranger knew it.
“You’re going to be alright,” he assured her. “My name is Horte Cuisine. May I ask yours?”
“D-Derpy.”
“I see. My apologies; I was only given information on the ship’s original crew. Now, I can understand why you would be afraid, but I need you to remain calm. I am going to tie you up, and you are going to let me. If you don’t, I will be forced to hurt you.” She shook her head, but wisely remained quiet.
Horte Cuisine pulled several zip ties out of his belt pouch. “I promise that you won’t be harmed in any way,” he said when he noticed Derpy shaking in fear. “If you do as I ask, this will be completely painless. However, I feel that it’s only fair to warn you of the consequences should you decide to disobey.” He reached into the same pouch and pulled out a thin metal rod with a ring on one end. “Do you know what this is for?” he asked. She shook her head, already sobbing in quiet resignation. “It’s used to pull a rope through the hole I’ll cut through your leg.”
“No!” Derpy whimpered.
“It will be extremely painful,” he warned. “Your calf muscles are remarkably tough; I once tied a pegasus down for days, and he still wasn’t able to pull free. By the time I finally let him go he was never able to walk right again. Believe me, this is not a punishment that I enjoy carrying out, but I will if you make me. Do as I ask, and you’ll never have to see me again after today. You’ll spare us both a lot of unhappiness.”
Her wings drooping in defeat, Derpy offered her hooves to be tied together. “I’m glad that you made the sensible decision,” Horte said once he had secured her. “I am going to look around the rest of the ship. If I find what I’m looking for, I will simply take it and leave. If not, I will have to question you about it.”
Derpy looked around for Vision, and was surprised to see that she had disappeared. “I’ll be back,” Horte Cuisine said. “Behave yourself while I’m gone.”
*****
Tick Tock wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up with his head resting on his desk and his neck twisted at an unpleasant angle. He sat up and massaged his shoulders, trying to loosen the cramps. The plans on the table in front of him were completely unfamiliar; he couldn’t even remember sketching the device’s basic outline, let alone its inner workings.
The doctor sighed and gathered his papers into a neat stack. Maybe he could work on it later, once he figured out what he had designed.
“That’s a very lovely clock,” somepony said from behind him. Tick Tock screamed and spun around, tossing his papers into the air in a panic. A very bemused pony stood in the doorway of the infirmary, pointing an advanced blaster pistol right at his chest. “Goodness!” the intruder chuckled. “You don’t see a reaction like that very often. At least, not from a stallion.”
“Who are you?” Tick Tock asked, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks.
“Sir Horte Cuisine, at your service.” The stranger did a little bow. “Well, not really. If anything you’re about to serve me, not vice versa. Where is it?”
Tick Tock looked pointedly around the infirmary. “Could you be more specific?” he asked. “And please don’t say ‘the thing you stole’, because there are probably a lot of those around here.” He picked up a pen from his desk and began nervously toying with it. Hopefully Sir Cuisine wouldn’t notice that he was beginning to sweat.
“Don’t play games with me,” the intruder warned. “I’m sure that you have a fairly good idea of what I’m here for. The Captain would have mentioned it to you. Tell me about it; what it looks like, what it does, how hard it would be to transport. Something this important wouldn’t go unnoticed.”
“You’re asking the ship’s medic where he’s hiding priceless stolen cargo?” Tick Tock asked. “When last I checked, my job description was mostly limited to treating injuries and handing out Band-Aids.”
Horte Cuisine hissed out an exasperated sigh. “I have neither the time nor the patience for this. You will take me to what I’m looking for, or I will mutilate your mechanic. When she tries to fight back – and she will, I assure you – I could easily end up killing her.”
Tick Tock snapped his pen between his hooves. “Now we’re making progress,” Horte said. “Don’t look so glum, Doctor. There’s always a chance that I’ll get careless and you’ll turn the tables. Unlikely, I grant you, but there it is.” He stepped aside, gesturing politely toward the door. “After you. What did you say your name was?”
He doesn’t know that he’s here for a living pony, Tick Tock thought. I assume that’s a good thing, but I haven’t been in enough of these situations to know. The smart thing to do would be to tell him as little as possible, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that what Lyra would do? “Clockwork,” the doctor lied. “Doctor Clockwork. I would say that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but let’s not kid ourselves.”
*****
Despite not finding what he was looking for in the infirmary or the cargo hold, Horte Cuisine was in high spirits as he strolled into the galley. It was only a matter of time until the brown earth pony told him where to find what he needed, and then he could sit tight and wait for the cavalry to arrive. There didn’t seem to be anypony left on the ship to interrupt them, and he was pretty sure that Clockwork wasn’t hiding a gun anywhere.
That said, he was beginning to get a little impatient. “This is the second time you’ve taken me through here,” he said as they finished the circuit of the ship. “I’m beginning to think that you don’t know anything useful. I may have to ask Derpy after all.”
“What makes you think she’ll know better than I would?” Clockwork asked.
“She wouldn’t,” he answered. “I just think she’ll be more honest.” The doctor bristled at the threat, but said nothing more.
They paced through the cold storage area, looking in all of the same spots they had checked last time. “I’m tired of this,” Horte announced before they headed back to the aft hallway. “This is your last chance, doctor. Tell me where to find what I’m looking for, or I’ll turn my attentions to your mechanic. I’d really prefer to settle this without doing grievous bodily harm to anypony, but you’ve given me no other option.”
The lights in the room dimmed, then abruptly flared red. “What is that?” Horte asked as a siren sounded through the ship’s intercom system. “What’s going on?”
“The ship’s on high alert,” Clockwork said. “Somepony must have triggered the alarm.”
Who could have done that? Horte Cuisine wondered. I’ve already sealed off all the cabins. Who did I miss? He trotted out of the galley and looked around the cargo hold, his eyes immediately settling on the thick hatches on either side of the room. Each of them led to one of the small shuttles that came standard with Firefly cargo vessels. Of course! It was foolish to assume that the Companion would run her business from the crew's quarters. What an embarrassing oversight.
He returned to the galley, intending to say something clever about loose ends, and instead saw a frying pan streaking through the air toward his head. Speaking of oversights.
The blow wasn’t backed by a lot of strength on the part of the doctor, but it still knocked him senseless. Horte Cuisine stumbled back, covering his head to prevent another attack, and tried to keep his balance. He teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, knowing that to pass out now would probably mean death.
Slowly, he recovered from the blow and took stock of his surroundings. Clockwork had fled, not even bothering to take the pan with him. I need a new job, Horte Cuisine thought sadly as he checked his pistol’s charge. I am getting too old for this kind of work. He decided to head for the engine room, reasoning that freeing the mechanic would likely be the doctor’s first priority.
The door to the aft hallway wouldn’t budge. It appeared that Clockwork had decided to put the entire ship on lockdown rather than let an intruder roam around as he wished. Smart, Horte Cuisine admitted to himself. I suppose there’s no chance of getting the answers I want now. I’ll just have to survive until help arrives.
He settled in for a long wait, but it was only a few minutes before something clattered across the catwalks outside. Horte Cuisine looked through the small window in the door, and saw a charcoal grey pegasus taking aim with a hideously large rifle. Oh, dear. That might be easier said than done.