• Published 10th Jan 2012
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Archives of the Friendquisition - Inquisipony Stallius



A Warhammer 40K crossover. An Inquisipony and his team must uncover and stop a dark conspiracy.

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Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hairtigger yanked away the lifeless claw still clutching his neck. “Not saying I’m ungrateful or nothing, but did you have to cut it so close?”

“You’re welcome,” the Inquisipony said with a hint of amusement. He bent down to tend to the Arbitrotter’s injuries.

“You know what?” the pegasus said. “I think I might owe the good folks of Applemattox an apology.”

Caballus’s amusement grew. “And why might that be?”

“I reckon the Deep-Grabbers might be real after all,” Hairtrigger replied, nodding toward the grotesque body.

Roughshod appeared beside his employer, out of breath. When he shined his own luminator down on Hairtrigger, he gave the pegasus a quizzical look. “There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you. Damn, you look like somepony worked you over good.” He started looking for a med-kit in his saddlebags.

“Don’t fuss over me, you idiot,” the Arbitrotter said irritably, “see to the filly.” He pointed a hoof in Mystic’s direction.

Roughshod did just that, and rushed to the unicorn’s side. But she recoiled from him, not even recognizing her close friend. In her toxic haze, everypony was an enemy, and every movement was an attack. She pulled so hard trying to get away, Roughshod was sure he heard a sickening snap.

“Relax, Sweet Pea! It’s me,” the stallion said in dismay. He tried to get a look at her leg, but she snarled at him. “Jeez, what’s the matter with you?”

“The Grabbers used some sort of gas weapon on her,” Hairtrigger explained. “Looks like it spooked her clean out of her wits.”

“Give her a sedative,” said Caballus. “The poison will have to run its course, but we need to keep her from hurting herself while it does.”

Roughshod nodded, and procured a needle from his med-kit. With some difficulty, he managed to inject his uncooperative patient with it. At the same time, Caballus prepared a painkiller for Hairtrigger, and gave it to him right at the base of his wing. Both of the wounded ponies started to relax. Mystic soon stopped struggling enough for Roughshod to roll away the boulder from her leg so he could set about binding it. “It’s definitely broken,” he reported.

“So is this wing,” said Caballus, “and probably a few ribs. How much Bone-Mending Brew did you pack in there?”

Roughshod rifled through the med-kit, pulling out a small vial filled with a purple liquid. “Not enough for all that, I don’t think.”

“Give it to her. I’ll be fine,” Hairtrigger insisted. He tried to stand, but a sharp stab in his side proved him wrong.

Caballus frowned. “You’re both dead weight if you can’t travel. Give Mystic enough to walk, and the rest to Hairtrigger. We can get them patched up properly once we’re back on the Majesty.”

Rolling Mystic onto her back, Roughshod poured a little more than half the potion into her mouth. With a little coaxing, the torpid unicorn swallowed it. A dim glow suffused the flesh of her fetlock. The joint stretched and twisted as the bone set itself back into place, popping and cracking as it went. By the time the light faded, it had fused back into working order.

Hairtrigger drank the remaining potion. His chest and right wing shone with an inner light as the fractures in his hollow bones sealed themselves. Once it was finished, he gave his wings and torso an experimental stretch. They still hurt; the bones may have been repaired—for the most part, anyway—but the scrapes and bruises still remained.

While Hairtrigger got shakily to his feet, Caballus kicked the creature’s body onto its back, examining his kill.

“What in the wide, wide world of Equestria is it?” Hairtrigger asked. “Besides ugly.”

Caballus shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. The Ordo Hereticolt usually hunts heretics, not zoonos. You probably know more about ‘Deep-Grabbers’ than I do.”

“All I know are the stories, the tall tales about them. They say ever since the first settlers came out to the edge of the sub-sector and put down roots, they were raided by monsters that lived out in from the Rocklands. Strike without warning, disappear without a trace; all the spooky story clichés. For as long as anypony can remember, they’re sort of just what folks blame when anything bad happens. If something breaks right when you need it, you’ll say ‘the Grabbers must’ve broke it,’ or whenever somepony would go missing and never come back, folks would say ‘the Grabbers must’ve got him.’ Whenever I took to bickering with my dear old Ma, she would tell me to cut it out or the Deep-Grabbers would come drag me underground, and make me work in their mines forever, never to see sun again.” He shook his head. “And to think, eventually I stopped believing her.

Caballus shrugged. “You’d be surprised how often legends from the past contain a kernel of truth. The archives of the Friendquisition contain a number of accounts from Inquisiponies who found themselves investigating entities that were supposedly fictional.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Nothing I’m at liberty to discuss,” Caballus said with a smirk.

By then, Roughshod had joined the two stallions again, with Mystic draped over his back. With the tranquilizer finally overpowering the poison, the unicorn had fallen into a fitful sleep. The drug couldn’t end her nightmares, but it had returned them to where they belonged. “Looks like we can move her now,” he said with some relief.

His weak smile belied the stress visible in his eyes, however. Caballus had seen the look before. It was one his companion often wore after he had finished administering first aid; the point at which nothing more could be done. All he could do now was wait for her to get better, and waiting made Roughshod feel helpless. Not to mention distracted. Then we won’t wait, Caballus decided.

“Right then,” the Inquisipony said, “we should get moving. Roughshod and I had just discovered a tunnel that appeared to lead out of this place when we heard the commotion you two were making. This way.”

It took a little bit of searching, but Caballus managed to backtrack to the place where the cavern wall opened into a narrow passage. It was even narrower than the first one Hairtrigger and Mystic had landed in, wide enough for one pony to walk comfortably, but not two. It was also tall enough for even Roughshod to have no lack of headroom. Caballus went first, followed by the hobbling Hairtrigger, and Roughshod bringing up the rear with Mystic on his back.

“So what now?” Hairtrigger asked after a few minutes.

“Huh?” Roughshod asked.

“What do we do now?” the Arbitrotter repeated. “Things ain’t exactly been going according to the plan we set out with this morning. The heretics are running the town, the ground beneath their hooves is crawling with Grabbers, and we’re trapped down here, cut off from help by both of them. I’m wondering what we’re fixin’ to do once we get out of this cave.”

Roughshod cocked his head, as if he’d never even considered the plan at all.

“The plan,” Caballus said confidently from the front, “hasn’t changed. Find the enemy, and destroy the enemy. It’s just our luck that there’s quite a bit more ‘enemy’ than we anticipated. Not only do we have to contend with Sniffles and the Children, but we’ve got this new zoonos threat to worry about, too.”

“Sniffles?” Roughshod asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, that’s the name of the Traitor Marine. He… introduced himself to me—though without his armor on, mind you—back in Tier’s warehouse. Right before that damn phoenix tried to kill me. He was the true Cheat-worm supplier, and I suspect he’s the one who’s behind the Children’s resurgence. He must have fled during the first purge, and hidden out here in Applemattox, eventually spreading his influence throughout the entire town.

“Anyway, what has changed is the scale of the plan. This is no longer small enough to contain ourselves. Once we reach the surface, we’ll signal Fyzzix for extraction, and then requisition some more firepower. I should think a full regiment of Equestrian Guard will be enough to take care of the townsfolk. And my counterparts in the Ordo Zoonos will certainly be interested in the Deep-Grabbers. If anypony knows how best to deal with hostile creatures, it’s them. With those reinforcements, we can purge the taint from this town, and the infestation beneath it.”

“I can’t wait,” Roughshod muttered. “Maybe we can round up some of those cultist scumbags for some good old-fashioned Friendquisitional ‘interrogation’ while we’re at it.”

There was a certain edge of… contempt in the stallion’s remarks, the likes of which Caballus hadn’t heard from him in a long time. Roughshod was usually the most easygoing of the team, even in combat situations. Especially in combat situations, actually. But ever since receiving their current assignment back in Hippopolis, the Inquisipony had noted a few times when his bodyguard hadn’t quite been himself. And always when the topic was the Children, which Caballus supposed wasn’t really surprising, all things considered.

Satisfied with the plan, Hairtrigger simply nodded in assent. Having little else to discuss, the team fell into a careful, deliberate pace through the tunnel. Though it snaked left and right, it did appear to generally slope upwards, providing the ponies cause for cautious optimism.

“I think it’s time for a rest,” Caballus suggested, after a couple hours of hiking.

Both of the ponies behind him agreed, and they all set their burdens down on the tunnel floor. Rations and a small canteen from Caballus’s saddle bag were passed around for the three to share, and some were saved for Mystic when she woke up.

Without the noise of clopping hooves bouncing off the walls, it was suddenly very quiet in the tunnel. Quiet enough for Caballus to hear a faint mumbling.

“Does anypony else hear that?” he asked.

“Oh, that? That’s Sweet Pea,” Roughshod replied, gesturing to Mystic lying on the ground in front of him. “She’s been talking in her sleep on and off for a while now. I can’t really tell what she’s saying, but it sounds like she might be coming out of it soon.”

Caballus got up and squeezed past Hairtrigger to where she lay. He knelt down, scrutinizing her face, and straining to listen. The green pony had stopped grappling with her phantom attackers an hour ago, but she still looked so scared, so fragile. Her eyes darted wildly under their lids, and her expression shifted back and forth between cowering and pleading.

“And… and yea,” she murmured, “though I stand as b-but a candle before the darkness, I… I have no fear, for thou art with me. My f-faith is my strength, and it shines as though the sun at dawn…”

Caballus pulled the hood off her head and stroked her blue mane. In his most reassuring tone, he recited with her. “As surely as the day scatters the night, with faith in my heart, I shall vanquish any foe.”

Beneath his touch, her trembling eased, and her own voice grew in confidence. “Sustain and protect me, O Princess, that I might carry your light wherever evil dwells, and bask in your glory eternal.”

The young mare’s face became serene, and her eyes fluttered open. “C-Caballus?”

“That was from The Psalms of Champions, wasn’t it?” he said, smiling down on her. “By Saint Radiance? It’s one of my favorites.”

Mystic returned the smile “Yeah, it was. I say it sometimes when I feel… ahem… when I feel scared.” She looked around, seeing the rest of the group as well. “Was… was I asleep? I feel like I’ve been...” She trailed off as she finally noticed her surroundings and realized where she was. Her smile soured slightly. “I almost thought that being chased by those… those shadow-dog-monsters was all a bad dream.”

“’Fraid not, missy,” Hairtrigger sighed.

“Here,” said Roughshod, handing her the food and water they’d set aside for her. “Let’s get you back on your hooves. Not to mention off of my back. I’m not an ambulance, you know.”

The stallions collected their equipment while Mystic inhaled the provisions. It took a little teamwork, but they helped her up into a standing position, where she tested the injured leg with a little weight. It hurt, but she could travel mostly unaided.

At a pace that accommodated their walking wounded, the team returned to their journey through the passageway. At the back of the procession, Roughshod’s mind began to wander. The monotonous march provided little in the way of distraction, so he found other ways to occupy himself. First he counted his ammunition, so he knew exactly how many pies he had left, and in what flavors. He double checked them, and then triple checked just to be sure. He refitted his flak armor, loosening and retightening straps that had shifted while they walked, until they once again hugged him properly.

Roughshod repeated simple diversions like these until even they became as tedious as staring at the omnipresent, rough-hewn tunnel walls. Turning his luminator’s beam to the wall, the brown pony silently cursed them for being the only thing to look at. But actually looking at them, something piqued his interest.

“Check out the walls,” Roughshod said. “They’re all scratched.”

The other ponies stopped and shined their lights on the wall as well.

“You’re right,” Hairtrigger said, his eye magnifying the texture of the stone. “It’s not smooth like the rest of the cave, not natural. But what’s that mean?”

Roughshod scratched his chin. “Well you got a look at their claws, right?”

The Arbitrotter gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, I got a good look at their claws. Especially when they were wringing my neck all homicidal-like.”

“Well,” Roughshod elaborated, “with claws like that, I’m guessing they can dig their own tunnels like this one with their bare paws. Might be how they got a reputation for attacking out of nowhere, and vanishing afterward: find a cave under the target or make your own, then pop up, snatch up everypony in sight, and you’re gone.”

“I’d have never pegged the disappearances on the Deep-Grabbers if I hadn’t seen one with my own eye,” Hairtrigger shrugged. “That explains the dirt piles at the crime scenes. They must fill their holes in after they leave.”

“But why?” Mystic said, giving voice to the next obvious question. “Why do they take ponies?”

As if in answer, a noise echoed from up ahead of them. It was faint, but it sounded very distinctly like a scream. A scream of agony.

“I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” Caballus said.