Daring Do and the Hand of Doom

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 20: The Mute

Daring Do awoke with a start, but then immediately lay back down. Even moving slightly felt as though somepony was attempting transform her into an alicorn by drilling a horn directly into her skull.

“Oh! Look! She moved! She’s waking up!”

Groaning, Daring Do opened her eyes and sat up very slowly. She was lying in a bed she did not recognize, but as she sat up she found herself facing Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash was still mildly charred, and her and tail were substantially shorter than they had been before. She also completely lacked eyebrows, the effect of which was that she appeared perpetually surprised. Of course, in this case, she actually was.

“Ugh…Dash, what hit me?”

“The head of another pony,” said a gruff female voice. Daring Do turned sharply- -a mistake that made her nearly swoon- -and saw that agent Sweetie Drops was sitting on a wooden stool. The earth pony dexterously unwrapped a sweet and put it in her mouth. With her other hoof she then held up a shattered mask. “And through an armored mask. A mask which, let me make clear, was somehow a telecommunications device and sensory apparatus. You know. With technology that shouldn’t even exist in Equestria at this point in history, that could be reverse-engineered slowly and carefully with exacting precision to help us determine exactly who made and was wearing it.” She turned the mask to that Daring Do could see the face of it, where the entire front of it had been reduced to a large hole. “Or we could have. If you hadn’t smashed it.”

“What are you even doing here, Sweetie Drops?”

Sweetie Drops sighed. “What? Does it look like I want to be here?” She pointed at her face. “Because if you think this is the look of somepony who’s happy, then that really does explain why you never got married, now doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to be here. I asked WHY you are here.”

“Because SOMEPONY flew through the streets screaming ‘Bon Bon!’, ‘Bon Bon, I need help!’.” She groaned. “I mean, I’ve had my cover blown before. But never so spectacularly.”

“I do do things pretty awesome,” said Rainbow Dash, shrugging.

“One, it wasn’t a compliment. Two, ‘awesomely’. Use a gosh-darn bloody adverb for once.”

“I have a headache,” moaned Daring Do. “Do you really need to use language that harsh?”

“You’re gosh-darn right that I gosh-darn do or you can go straight to heck with your bum on fire all the way. In case you didn’t notice? You got concussed. Very badly.”

“And I got blown up,” added Rainbow Dash.

“Clearly not very well,” muttered Sweetie Drops. She turned back to Daring Do. “For the record? Getting hit so hard you pass out is a medical emergency. Don’t worry, I checked. Your brain isn’t bleeding. Neither is the one in the head of the mare you hit.”

Daring Do gasped and her eyes widened. She ignored the immense pain. “Other mare.”

“Yeah.” Sweetie Drops threw down the destroyed mask and stood up. “Dash. You set this whole thing up. Lead the way. It’s about time I got some answers.”

Rainbow Dash seemed oddly stern. “Right,” she said.

She turned away and Daring Do stood up. They were no longer in the hotel, but rather in what seemed to be the offices of a large abandoned warehouse. From the scent in the air, Daring Do could tell that they were near the docks, nearly five miles from where they had just been at least.

“Where are we?” she mumbled.

“One of my safe houses. Don’t worry. You don’t need to worry about staying alert enough to stop yourself getting surrounded by explosives here.”

“Did you even see what kind of explosives those were?” snapped Daring Do.

“No. But I recognize the fireball. And from what Rainbow Dash described, one that was cut into several pieces.” Sweetie Drops’s brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“You understand how hard that is to do, right? Even just rigging a star like that to a bomb is almost impossible…but cutting it?”

“Yeah. I know. I’ve only seen it once.”

“Really?” Sweetie Drops seemed surprised. “Who did the cutting?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly around to tell me. It was part of a trap at least five thousand years old.”

“Daring Do and the Priest of the Phoenix,” noted Rainbow Dash. When Sweetie Drops glared at her, she chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Needless to say,” continued Sweetie Drops, “there’s almost no one in Equestria who can cut a phoenix star. Only an absurdly skilled and steady mage, or rock ponies. And we keep good track of the rock-worshippers. We always have. There’s only one family of them left.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You mean the Pies?”

“No, I mean your mother. OF COURSE I mean the Pies.”

“Pinkie Pie wouldn’t do that! No way, she wouldn’t make a bomb! I mean, a confetti bomb…which can be pretty messy- -but not a REAL bomb!”

“Pinkie probably doesn’t have the capacity. We would be more concerned with Maud Pie in this case. But based on the number of pieces, I doubt she did it. That many requires a strong magical sustainment field.”

“And a phoenix star,” added Daring Do.

“Yes,” said Sweetie Drops, slowly. “Exactly like the one Caballeron wears on his wrist in the hollowed out body of an old watch. One that he was given as a graduation gift almost twenty years ago.”

“Do you think he did this?” gasped Rainbow Dash.

“No,” said Daring Do. “He wouldn’t.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Sweetie Drops. “But I am sure that he couldn’t. Not alone. So we need to ask somepony who knows.”

Rainbow Dash nodded and flew forward, reaching a door at the end of the dusty hallway and sliding it open. She gestured for Daring Do to enter, which she did.

What she saw was an old, empty office with a chair set up in the center. Sitting in it was a mare, her head slumped down over the tight rope that bound her to the seat. In fact, to Daring Do, she hardly looked like a mare at all: she was incredibly young, and had not yet completely outgrown the thin gangliness of a teenager.

The mare- -or filly- - had been stripped of her cloak and equipment, which were not in the room with her. Instead, she had been left wearing what appeared to be dark, form-fitting armor inlaid with silver that served an unknown purpose. Her mane was pure white, as was what little of her skin was visible on her face and fluffy wings. Exactly as Daring Do had expected.

“She looks like she’s tied pretty well,” said Daring Do, slowly.

“She is,” agreed Sweetie Drops. “Rainbow Dash did the honors.”

Rainbow Dash laughed awkwardly when Daring Do looked at her. “Well, you know. After reading your books, I wondered if I could get out of ropes like you can. But I had to learn knots first. And Fluttershy knows a LOT of knots. For some reason.”

“Huh,” said Sweetie Drops, approaching the bound pony. “I never pictured her as somepony who was into that sort of thing.”

“Into what sort of thing?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused.

Sweetie Drops did not answer. She instead approached the bound girl. Her motions were rapid, as though she were in a hurry, but Daring Do noted that she just barely put most of her weight on her left side. Ponies usually only did that when they would need to either dodge or land a punishing blow in an instant.

Instead of landing any sort of blow, though, Sweetie Drops lightly tapped the cheek of the young mare.

“Hey,” she said. “Wake up.”

The mare jerked slightly, and then lifted her head. She opened her eyes. Upon seeing them, Rainbow Dash cried out in surprise and jumped back. Daring Do, much to her chagrin, did so as well, although only on instinct. Sweetie Drops did not, although she did visibly stiffen.

The mare’s eyes- -if they could even be called that- -were enormous and gray. She had virtually no sclera, and what little she did was a dark, nearly black color. The center of her eyes was pale and metallic, and as Daring Do stared, she saw the motion of many tiny, incredibly intricate gears and watched as several separate irises per eyes mechanically adjusted themselves and the tiny lenses built around them.

“What- -what happened to her eyes?!” cried Rainbow Dash, still visibly upset by the sight. She was made more so when the mare’s eyes shifted just slightly so that some of her many reflective pupils were focused on Rainbow Dash specifically.

“They’re not eyes,” said Sweetie Drops, her voice grim. “They’re artificial. Implants.” She leaned closer. The mare barely reacted, instead staring forward stoically. “Incredibly detailed implants. I’d bet my best oats that she sees just as well with her eyes closed as with them open.” She pulled her head back and looked at Daring Do. “But the implications aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“What implications?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“That someone took the originals,” replied Daring Do, darkly.

All four of them fell silent. They remained this way for a long time, until Sweetie Drops sighed. “Well,” she said. “We might as well get to the interrogation.” She pushed her hoof hard against the side of the chair, causing the mare to tip. The mare either did not notice or did not care. “Right. I’m in a hurry. Just so you know, this isn’t my case. I’m working pro-bono here. But you put an incredibly powerful explosive device right in the center of a populated area. Do you have any idea how many ponies could have been hurt?” The mare did not react. “So. You can tell me a few things. Answer a few nice, friendly questions. Or...” she ran her hoof across one of the girl’s wings, and the girl shivered. “I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“Bon Bon,” protested Rainbow Dash. “No! You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I want,” snapped Sweetie Drops in return. “I literally have a license to. And if it means getting back home to Lyra? Sure. Even if it’s tough to watch.”

“But you can’t hurt her! Not while she’s tied up like that! It’s just not right!”

“I can and I will, if she lets me. I’m very good at this, Rainbow Dash. Ponies like to talk to me. Usually in under twenty minutes.”

“Well you’re not going to get anything out of her,” said Daring Do, grimly.

Sweetie Drops raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

Daring Do approached the mare and put her hoof slowly to her chin. She half expected to receive a painful bite, but the mare was amazingly compliant. She allowed Daring Do to tilt back her head, exposing her neck- -and a number of perfectly straight, barely visible surgical scars over her larynx.

“Sweet Princess drippings,” swore Bon Bon, speaking in a whisper.

“What is it?” said Rainbow Dash. Her voice was quavering. She already knew.

“They made sure she couldn’t talk,” said Daring Do. “Not now, and not ever. Her eyes weren’t the only things they took. And my guess? They didn’t teach her to write either. Just to listen and follow orders.”

“That puts a wrench in the whole darn thing,” muttered Sweetie Drops. She frowned for a moment. “We can still ask yes and no questions, though.”

“To get what? She won’t be able to tell us anything we don’t already know.”

Sweetie Drops’s expression hardened. “And what, exactly, do you know?”

“I know who she’s working for, for one.” Daring Do faced the mare. “She’s a Questlord.”

For the first time, the mare seemed surprised. It was a difficult emotion to pick up on, considering how her eyes were perpetually wide. Daring do was still able to see it, though, and she instantly knew that she was right.

“Not possible,” said Sweetie Drops.

“It is. A pony like her attacked me in southern Equestria. He had the same mane, same coat, and I’m guessing the same eyes at one point. And he wore a Questlord insignia. She just came back to try again.” She faced Sweetie Drops. “I also know that they’re working with Caballeron.”

The color seemed to drain from Sweetie Drops’s face. “Do you have any proof of that?”

Daring Do nodded. “They had something. Some sort of automaton, or golem, or- -”

“Robot,” added Rainbow Dash. “It was a robot.”

“Sure. A robot. A robot that could respond to a Questlord sign. Sweetie Drops, I’ve seen a LOT of things in my life. But nothing quite like that. I’m sure of it.”

Sweetie Drops’s gaze slowly turned from Daring Do to Rainbow Dash and then back again. “Bucking lemons,” she sighed, sitting down. “Great. Just great. You know, despite your interference, this wasn’t going all that bad for me. We have witnesses that saw Caballeron robbing a private artifact collection. I had him. All I needed to do was track him down and arrest him.”

“It’s not that easy. Not at all.”

“Not for you. But for me? A week, tops. Then we’d have him, and I could actually sleep at night without having nightmares about what my agent looked like after he was done with her. We’d have nailed him. But now you tell me this?” She shook her head. “That means we’re all up to our neck in pony plops. And Caballeron is well over his head.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” said Rainbow Dash. Her wings quivered, and Sweetie Drops made a face. “Sorry. It’s finally starting to get exciting!”

“If by ‘exciting’ you mean ‘horribly dangerous’, sure, why not.” Sweetie Drops pressed her hoof against her temple and rubbed it slowly. She paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Alright. I’m going to tell you some information. The classified time. As in, top secret. As in, if the agency knew I’d told you? You’d both be hung. By your wings. And used like piñatas.”
“Why does that make me want to know even more?” whined Rainbow Dash, clearly repulsed at the idea of being suspended by her wings. Daring Do was also repulsed, but hid it better. She had already been in that situation, more than once.

“It concerns the Questlords.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Should we be saying top secret stuff in front of, you know…” She pointed at the silent mare and whispered. “Her?”

Sweetie Drops and Daring Do both looked at the mare. “I don’t think it matters,” said Daring Do. “She already knows everything about the Questlords. Don’t you?”

The mare did not nod or shake her head. She only stared forward, blankly, as if she was still expecting to be treated harshly and had resigned herself to several hours of pain at least.

“Officially,” began Sweetie Drops, “the Questlords don’t exist. They never did. They’re a myth based on an ancient order of unicorn knights that eventually fell into obscurity. Any exploits they had are just old stories blown out of proportion by whispered retellings.”

“But that isn’t true,” said Daring Do. “Even I know that. They were an ancient order of knights opposed to the rule of Celestia. They were defeated completely in year 1307 pre-modern, over two thousand years ago.”

“That’s a really long time,” added Rainbow Dash.

“Except they weren’t crushed,” said Sweetie Drops. “Not completely. They still exist.”

“How?!”

“That’s what we don’t know. Now, pay attention. This is not common knowledge. This is considered Level One Heresy. You don’t even get wing-hung for this. You just disappear.”

Rainbow Dash gulped, but did not protest. Sweetie Drops took that as permission to continue.

“The Questlords were, and are, a terrorist group. We believe that their goal is to eventually overthrow Celestia. And all alicorns by extension.”

“Even Twilight?”

“Is she an alicorn?”

“Bon Bon, you know her! You literally live four blocks away from her! Of course she is!”

“Then they want her gone. By any means necessary.”

“And you haven’t done anything about them?” asked Daring Do.

“We can’t. Not without admitting they exist. That and we have no idea what they even look like. No one knows. A Questlord has never been captured alive, and no part of their organization has ever been studied in detail.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we caught one, isn’t it?” Rainbow Dash pointed at the bound mare, who was staring with great interest.

Sweetie Drops stared back. “We don’t know how their organization is structured, how many there are, or who they are. But we do know one things. They are invariably unicorns. Without exception, ever. See, they don’t accept new members. Every Questlord is a member of a bloodline that stretches back to their heyday. This is a Pegasus.”

“So was the one who attacked me before,” noted Daring Do. “But it was just like the legends said. Power-steel.” She pointed at the broken mask on the floor. “Just like her.”

Sweetie Drops stared at the mask, her face growing grim. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.” Her eyes met Daring Do’s. “And I’m sorry. But if this concerns the Questlords, I have a duty.” She slowly turned toward the bound mare. “I need to get more information.”

The mare watched them. She really had little other choice, as the eggshell-colored earth-mare had been correct. Even when blinking, she could still see. She would see every inch of what they would do to her, just like she could see the beating of their hearts and count the individual hairs on their flanks.

The earth-mare took a step forward, and the white mare braced herself, feeling her own heartrate quicken. She had been trained- -extensively- -on how to deal with this sort of adversity, but it was different in person. It was far more terrifying to not know the pony on the other side, and when she would stop- -if at all. It was so much easier when it was a brother or a sister.

Still, she held onto her resolve. She had failed her mission and brought great shame to her kind. Indeed, she reasoned that she likely deserved this for such poor performance. She would not fail again. They would receive no information from her. Not that there was any she could give them. The mare could neither write nor speak- - nor scream. Her vocal cords had been surgically severed for that very reason.

As the earth-mare approached, time seemed to slow down. The white mare first thought that this was simply an aspect of her fear, of her mind instinctively trying to savor her last few seconds without pain. That thought was soon dispelled, though, as time continued to slow- -until it outright stopped. The earth-mare had stopped, frozen mid-step, the pale brown Pegasus trying to stop her path, inexplicably defending the albino. The rainbow-maned mare, likewise, had ceased motion mid-flight as she rushed to her friend’s aid.

A thin projection of magic suddenly became visible, forming strange, barely perceptible components of a weightless, intangible machine. Then, from behind the earth-mare, another pony appeared. When the Pegasus saw him, her thoughts did not immediately skip to fear. Rather, to confusion. She did not understand how he was moving, or why he looked so strange, as though his large but sickly yellow eyes were on the sides of his head instead of the front. Or why she could perceive no single heartbeat in his chest.

The black unicorn approached her, and the white Pegasus became aware of a strange ticking sound. It was like a clock, but infinitely more unpleasant. The Pegasus could not ascertain its source, even as her incredibly perceptive eyes scanned the room.

Then, suddenly, she felt a sensation of falling, as if the chair had fallen out from under her. She opened her mouth and screamed silently from surprise, even though she quickly realized that the chair had never once moved. There had been a sense of inversion, but no real change in position.

She looked around, and saw that somehow she was somewhere else. The room was like it had been before, but now it was dim and gray, and the air was unnervingly cold. What had once been an office was rendered as a round room, its walls made of stone that was somehow paradoxically both cyclopean and monolithic. The floor was smooth but stained in strange, fading colors. There was no ceiling save for blackness.

She heard voices. They sounded distant at first, but grew closer. The mare did not know what language they were speaking, or if it was a language at all.

Then the owners of the voices appeared, and the Pegasus gasped audibly. They were ponies, but also somehow not. They were tall and gaunt creatures that stood on the edge of the room or up on some unseen second level in the darkness overhead. Their bodies remained largely obscured, save for their eyes. They had terrible eyes. Large, colorful, but with sharp, inquisitive gazes- -and an astounding lack of anything at all behind them. They were not living creatures.

Space distorted in the center of the room as though a door had been slipped imperceptibly between the air. The black unicorn appeared again. His eyes were closer than normal, but still wide spaced and ugly. Unlike the owners of the eyes that stared back from the perimeter of the room- -owners who were universally about three times taller than the black unicorn- -he was solid and real.

“Welcome,” he said. As a black unicorn, the mare had expected his voice to sound suave and inviting. Instead, it was more like a croak and came out unusually high.

“I will tell you nothing,” she replied with conviction- -only to cry out in abject surprise. Had she not still been bound, she would have grasped her throat. “I- -I can- -I can talk!”

The unicorn smiled. His smile was hideous. It was too wide, and he had neither teeth nor gums. “Of course you can,” he said. “Injuries…or surgeries…obtained in our world do not affect you in this one. And vice versa.”

“Who are you?” the mare demanded it. This was the first time she had ever spoken or heard her own voice, and she deemed that she sounded unpleasantly haughty. In this application, though, such a voice was appropriate.

“That hardly matters. You don’t really care.”

“No. I don’t. It changes nothing. I will tell you nothing.”

The stallion’s eyes glimmered. “Would you like to know something interesting?”

“No.”

“To be expected,” he sighed, his smile fading on his strange mouth but not on his equally strange eyes. “Your inferior race hardly cares about learning. No curiosity. Content to eat clouds or whatever it is the sky-kind do these days. Nevertheless, you are…well…a captive audience.” The mare groaned, but the black stallion continued. “Did you know that I am absolutely incapable of regret, remorse, pity, sympathy, and empathy? These aren’t just aspects of my profession. These are genetically heritable traits. They are the reason why I am superior to you.”

“You do not look superior.”

His smile fell completely. “No. Because I chose to look like one of your kind.”

The mare was confused. “I am a Pegasus.”

The smile returned. “Are you?”

The black stallion approached slowly. Next to him, something else appeared. A piece of equipment. The mare did not know what it was, but she saw gleaming blades of strange metal and thick, incredibly long needles.

“What- -what is that,” she stammered, trying to retain her composure.

“You do not have the vocabulary to express its function or purpose,” said the stallion dismissively. “It’s a tool of scientific inquiry. Something your kind lost when you allowed the White Queen to take power.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stallion laughed, or did something like laughing. It sounded more like a low shriek. He leaned in close, and the mare gagged. He stank horribly. “Yes you do. You know this will hurt. Quite a bit. More than is possible in your world, I think, because termination is not really possible in this one. Probably. But, as I’ve said, this is not a problem at all.”

“Not…a problem?”

“No. I feel no empathy. So this will not bother me in the slightest.”

He began to move the device closer. It had powered up, and was moving in strange and grotesque ways. The mare stiffened and tried to lean away, and did her best to be stoic.

“Do what you will,” she said, nearly spitting in his face. “I will tell you NOTHING.”

“Tell me?” The stallion looked confused. “Mortal, there’s nothing I want to know that you could tell me. I already know who you’re working for, why, and what your role is. Hint: it’s tiny and inconsequential. If this renders you insane, no one will care. Because you are disposable. Both to them and to me.”

“You’re lying.”

“Quite possibly. But it hardly matters. Don’t expect questions. What I really want to know is…deeper. I want to know what that body is. How it ticks. How it was ASSEMBLED. And what exactly you are. I want the secrets of your biology. Your mind- -like the Questlords- -are inconsequential to me.” He smiled pleasantly. “So please try to enjoy this as much as I’m about to.”

The machine moved even closer, and tears began to stream down from the white-mare’s red eyes. The tall, thin beings began to grow closer. Not to intervene. They were curious. The mare could see their limp, nonfunctional wings, and their long spiraled horns glimmering with flecks of strange metal. They never blinked. They never tried to stop him.

“You- -you will get nothing- -nothing- -NOTHING- -”

Sweetie Drops took another step forward. Daring Do was now clinging to one of her legs, proving once again that the stereotype of Pegasi being almost ridiculously weak was invariably true.

“You know at your age you probably have osteoporosis,” she said as Rainbow Dash grabbed one of her rear legs. “Please let go. I’d hate to break one of those hollow little bird-bones.”

“You won’t touch her, Sweetie Drops, I won’t- -”

“DARING!” cried Rainbow Dash, pointing at the white mare.

Daring Do turned her head to see that the Pegasus had suddenly gone into convulsions. Her body was struggling against her bindings, nearly tearing them free. Her head had rolled back, and she had started to foam at the mouth.

“Buck! Poison!” cried Daring Do, rushing to the mare’s side.

“Impossible! I checked her when Dash brought her in!”

The mare opened her mouth as if to let out a long and terrible scream of agony. All that came out was a quiet, barely audible hiss. The mechanical irises in her eyes spasmed, and suddenly she went limp.

Rainbow Dash gasped. “Is- -is she- -”

Daring Do put her hoof on the girl’s neck, praying to every Princess she knew that the situation was not as bad as it looked.

“No,” she said, sighing. “She’s still with us.”

“She’s…she’s saying something.”

Daring Do looked down and lifted the Pegasus’s mane. Her lips were indeed moving, repeating the same word over and over again.

“What is she saying?” asked Sweetie Drops. “I read lips but I don’t know the language.”

“I do,” said Daring Do, feeling herself grow cold. “She’s saying ‘mommy’. Just ‘mommy’. Over and over again…”

Comments

[AppleTank]

..... Renmus?