A wall of posters featuring hand drawn depictions of missing, lost or wanted ponies pinned to a billboard behind a locked door in the eggshell painted offices of Celestia’s royal security forces. Crimes in Canterlot were commonly related to social misbehavior, minor theft or dishonesty. Grand scale lawlessness was simply not a staple of equestrian society.
“Six missing ponies and not a soul has raised a fervor,” Prancing Luster said, waving a hoof over half a dozen missing ponies throughout Canterlot. “We’ve kept files, of course, but they were so close together that we’ve barely begun to gather any information.”
“Barely begun? How long ago did the first kidnapping occur?” Forelock Holmes prodded. “It’s unlike the security forces to be so sluggish.”
“Three days,” Prancing frowned with the rejoinder. “Kidnappings are rare, Holmes. Besides, we had problems finding witnesses of any kind. No traces were left to indicate where they went missing from.”
“So how do you know they were kidnapped?”
“A witness more or less stepped forward.”
Holmes, intrigued, deliberately intruded into her personal space. She glared at him softly, but he did not back down. “More or less, you say?”
“I will explain, if you will give me some breathing space,” she bit off. He grinned briefly and complied. “On the second day of the kidnappings, a young colt working a local club stepped up and gave us a description of a suspicious pony.”
Forelock nodded emphatically. “Yes, quite. I’ve heard of this. Omnipony, correct? DJ at ‘Wub a Dubstep’, a party organized by Grift Heavyhoof. He disappeared as well, I heard.”
“I am not surprised, nor terribly impressed, that have that information, but … Cloudsdale never apologizes, so neither do I. I will tell you there’s more that we didn’t make public. Omnipony left a description of his attacker,” Prancing noted with grim satisfaction. She cantered to a desk and gestured at a sketch. “Though it is unusual.”
The sketch was indistinct, as much any pony as no pony. Prancer explained that Omnipony couldn’t decide which features were correct. Everything was a ‘might’ or ‘I dunno if’ or ‘like that, sort of’. Forelock puzzled over this unique piece of information. “So how does this connect to kidnapping?”
Prancing shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. Forelock Holmes. What a day I’m having. Here. When we interviewed the service staff about the disappearances, one fact came to light. There was a new hire recently, only nopony could remember him very well. The fact that he is a colt is the only point anypony could agree on.”
“So he’s new to the staff, but nopony has an opinion about him?” Forelock repeated skeptically. “Completely inoffensive and uninteresting. I find that highly unlikely.”
Prancing Luster nodded and murmured agreement, turning her attention to a line of vials containing powder samples arranged neatly on a table. “Then there’s this strange powder.”
“… That we’ve no understanding of. I suspect you had more to do with the staff. Let’s focus on that.”
“Yes, I wasn’t satisfied with what those lazy cloudheads found. I personally interviewed certain members of the staff, and I found three ponies who could describe him. What they told me was not consistent, but the eye color was always the same. Sun-flare yellow. Ah, close …” she murmured, judging a sample of the power they had recovered from the Hall 18 against known types of dust. “Whatever spell this pony cast didn’t affect them.”
“Then we must conclude he is not a unicorn, nor an alicorn,” Forelock asserted off hoofedly. “Lazy minded ponies can be convinced of nearly anything, Ms. Luster, and the disaffected even more. Quite troubling.” He seemed to phase out into a bubbling haze of thought. A harsh frown masked his face, but was shattered abruptly by an enthusiastic curiosity: “Tell me, who are these ponies who could describe him?”
“Ah,” she gasped, unsettled. “Strike Bowler, Cantering Sunlight and Tightrope Fancy. What makes you say he’s not horned,” she asked, glaring with greater intensity at the sample of powder.
“Azure Nocturne is a magic sensitive. If any magic had been used during the kidnappings, she would have found it. No, this is the work of an Earth pony. Carry on.”
“I see your logic. Those three I mentioned are immigrants from Londun. They’ve been described as dependable ponies, but they all have questionable social habits,” she explained, brow creasing with frustration. “I’ve been over all these samples four times and none match!”
Forelock postulated several common habits among residents of Canterlot, based on the availability of free time, compensation, and cultural interests of Londunites. “You’ve profiled their habits, have you?”
“Had to. A suicide put the whole of Equestria on alert for the cause. We’re not proud to admit it, but gambling is on the rise in many large towns, including Apploosa,” she stated with the expected air of clinical detachment. “Some are devoid of it, like Ponyville, but we don’t understand why.”
“The Elements of Harmony serve as a great reminder of values that encourage morally resolved ponies. Towns within their influence have benefited from the friendship those six ponies inspire. What about Canterlot?”
Prancing lifted the magnifying glasses from her eyes, voice hard. “We’ve seen symptoms of gambling, but as yet we’ve been unable to locate the venues where they take place.”
“Another mystery for another time, I’m afraid,” Forelock concluded. “We’re not going to find the origin of this powder, but I must be unequivocally certain before assuming anypony has died.”
“It’s unheard of,” Prancing whispered. “We mustn’t even speak of it until we can prove it.”
Forelock set her with a fixed, cool eye. “Not since the wars have their been any violent deaths in Canterlot. We must be careful, and act with great haste. Come with me. We’re reporting these developments to Celestia. Right now.”
“Yessir.”
Dinner was being prepared and served throughout the palace, and with all the noise, either nopony noticed the exaggerated hollow wheezing of the TARDIS’ entering the palace gardens, or nopony cared. The leftmost door of the blue box opened, and angled upward, nose to the sky, was the chestnut head of The Doctor. His brown eyes absorbed the star spotted sky with singular recognition; the entirety of it was Home.
“Doctor … is it okay to leave the TARDIS out where anypony can see it?”
The Doctor stepped forward, around the poking head of his companion, Ditzy, allowing her to exit. He turned and nonchalantly regarded her, and then his trustworthy vehicle, greater than any conveyance.
“My dear Derpy. Nopony will notice her.”
Her … she grumbled privately. “Are you sure? She’s nothing like any garden ornament I’ve ever seen.”
He either watched the ball pass or ducked, eyes half lidded at her spite. “Why don’t I ask you this: Where do you hide something you don’t want anyone to find?”
“Uh, you hide it really well?”
“I said ‘where’, but that doesn’t matter. You hide it better than ‘well’. You hide it in plain sight.”
“Oh, you mean how sometimes I can’t find my wooden spoon because it’s right on top of the oven tray and I’m looking too hard?” she replied, grasping the notion nimbly. The Doctor tapped his forehooves in approval. “I did that when I made those alien berry muffins.”
“Anyon—er, pony will see the TARDIS and think it a part of the scenery.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Been doing this a while, don’t you see? Uh … now just a moment. Who are these ponies?”
A pair of brusque, thickly muscled dark coated ponies boasting midnight black armor had blocked off one of the two passages out of the garden. Turning to the other passage, two tall, slender ivory coated ponies in shining white-gold armor appeared, blocking them in. Ditzy backed into the Doctor, and he could feel her trembling.
“Steady on. The Doctor is in,” he breathed
at her. A brief study of the four told him there was a sympathizer present and that it was the mother among them, the lightest colored one. He plodded over and made with smiling eyes. From a pony pocket he produced an apparently blank card, which he flashed at her.
“Yes?” intoned the pony, disinterested in the presentation. The Doctor looked at it, then grinned.
“Of course, you’re immune to low grade telepathic suggestion, aren’t you? Fancy that.”
“Are you The Doctor?”
“Oh, I am The Doctor,” he replied with a broad smile, eyes flicking up from hers to the helmet between her ears. “Now isn’t that an interesting thing you’re wearing. It was a gift?”
Gruffly the pony agreed. “Yes. Why would you be—”
“I’m not, but it’s strange, and strange things interest me. It doesn’t belong here. Wasn’t given to you by your armory, either? No. I agree! See that crystal there? It looks like a diamond but it’s actually a micro-transmitter. Really it’s a signal repeater. Equestria has no microprocessor technology, because there’s magic … so far as I’ve seen. But you didn’t know that, I can see it in your eyes. Oh you’re wonderful. Honest and sincere. Here, I need to see who’s using it, where the signal is originating from. You don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t mind. What’s a ‘signal’?” The pony flustered, but recollection steadied her nerves. You must trust this pony, Summer Shire. He’s a Knight of the Kingdom, Celestia had said. The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver to the crystal and activated it. An oscillating tone changed modulation and frequency as he manipulated the tool.
“Ah, thank you. You’re not even worried I’ll break it. Naturally, the safety of the Princesses is more important. Now isn’t that nice. All that practice with Lyra paid off …” he muttered, then automatically answered Summer’s question. “Yes, like an invisible wave in the air that carries information, just like water carries fish. Nutrients that make food grow, you know. No, no … where’s another … ah …! Splendid! Second signal. Not the source. So close. Need a third. It’s faint, but … moving? Hold on, hold on! There! Hah! Got you!”
The sonic screwdriver’s audio report had added a tone with each mention of another ‘signal’. At its pinnacle three tones intersected, and the Doctor began walking. His triumphant chortle echoed against the white stone walls of the palace garden.
“Come on, come on! All of you! Who-or-whatever is transmitting this signal is big – oh yes, very big – and probably dangerous! Yes. Dangerous. Extremely. Move your rumps!” The palace halls were clear, and few ponies wandered the halls, even servants. The grey, white and silver brickwork entranced and distracted Ditzy. The Doctor took notice of this and called back at her: “Keep up, Derpy!”
The hall narrowed, and they turned left into a dusty hall of muted colors. The Doctor halted and raised a hoof, indicating that everyone else should as well. The light thunder of hooffalls turned into the simmering rain of a mild summer. The Doctor caught Ditzy’s crossed eyes and expressed silent confidence in her.
“Don’t you think it was smart not to wear your dress right away? Hm?”
“I think you’re a little bent, Doctor,” Ditzy replied, disappointed and not bothering to hide her feelings. What made her especially cross was his apparent indifference.
“Might be. Tell me what you smell,” he requested casually. She lifted her nose and sniffed at the stale air. They had traveled through unused back corridors and encountered a locked cellar door.
“Sulfur,” she answered with a sneeze. “Doctor, I’m worried about Dinky.”
“A palace is no place for processing sulfur. We’ll pick her up when we’re done here, if you like. You. What is this cellar for?”
“We will? If I like?”
“Please, Derpy …”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“Well, come on, let’s go … you, whomever you are,” The Doctor lifted a hoof in the direction of the other ivory coated guardian.
Eyes full of reproach, she replied: “My name is Summer Shire, Doctor.”
“Oh! A pleasure to meet you,” he replied warmly, distilling Summer’s tepid unease. “Sorry about all the hullabaloo in the garden. Quite a matter of urgency here, you see. What did you say was in this cellar?”
“I didn’t say. It’s abandoned. See that mark?” she said, stepping up and gesturing at a panel across the front of the heavy plank door. “It’s written in ancient equestrian. Reads ‘Danger: High Explosives.’ ”
“You can read ancient equestrian? There’s an ancient pony language? Why do I want to dance? Because it’s charming! Oh I do love ponies. Explosives? Sulfur? Fresh sulfur? I don’t suppose the palace had a sulfur mine, some time long ago?”
“I … I don’t know,” Summer replied hesitantly, a curious tick of the cheek evident.
“Wouldn’t be unlikely, if it was being used for weaponry. Has Equestria had any great wars?”
“No one has ever besieged the palace,” she retorted, insulted by the inference. “The Princesses have always ruled in peace.”
“But there has been fighting amongst the ponies. Derpy and I witnessed it, and it was in your history. It’s clever of you to make a distinction between the battlefield and a siege against this palace. So you say they’ve always ruled in peace? You’ve rather a lot of pride for a pony, but possibly very little understanding of your own history? For shame. You’re a guardspony. Doomed to repeat it, don’t you know the phrase? Ah well, never mind that. It really doesn’t matter, so long as I can trust you to be honest. Here, we’ve got to hurry. Could be trouble down there. I don’t know why we’re all standing ‘round here.”
Because we’re listening to you ramble your beak off, Ditzy thought, both charmed and annoyed. Summer and she exchanged skeptical looks. A voice snapped up behind her:
“Captain, that’s prohibited territory. Are we going in?”
Ah, Summer sighed. Brazen. So the predictable colt. He wants to know who will assume responsibility for this mission. Summer turned to the three ponies that had accompanied them. Azure Nocturne, Light Seeker and Brazen Heart muttered amongst themselves expectantly. She dropped a hoof resoundingly and they snapped to attention.
“I’ll not require any of you to join us. The Doctor has the absolute trust of the highest authority; Princess Celestia, and is a Knight of the Realm. Your courage will not be forgotten, whatever you should choose.”
The Doctor retrieved his sonic screwdriver which he aimed at the cellar door. The tool flashed green at its tip and the door’s lock undid itself with a grating clank. “Do it fast, everypony. Active sulfur means live – whatever! We’ve got to see what it’s about!”
“I don’t think anypony, or anybody, locked in with sulfur of any kind is going to be nice,” Ditzy murmured, close to the Doctor’s ear.
“I’ve no doubt you’re right. Just keeping things light m’dear. Be ready to fly,” he replied just as softly.
The doorway became a winding downward stairwell, dank and grey as they forged downward. Automatically Summer followed behind The Doctor, competing with Ditzy until he waved his companion to his side. The wooden door was charred along the top edge but mildly, and the steps bore long score-marks that sent chills down Ditzy’s spine.
“It looks like claws made those …” she said, nigh a whisper.
“Looks like three claws per leg. See there? This is a beast with a temper,” Brazen observed, reddish sweep of mane drifting over clear emerald eyes. “I don’t think it’s a pony, Doctor.”
“Brazen Heart, is it? Undoubtedly you are correct. Observe these marks,” The Doctor gestured with a hoof at pony sized hoof gouges in the masonry. “Somepony fought with this fellow. What’s it take for a hoof to rake stone like that? Would your armor do it?”
Summer accepted the Doctor’s query, but eyed Brazen. “He’s Luna’s tactical specialist.”
“Ah. I see. Well?”
“No. You can’t crack stone with a hoof boot like these. They’re formal,
for show, not battle. I could easily do it with full battle grade gear, though.”
“I’ve a suspicion about our quarry, but I wonder what brought him here. Summer, you’re good at protection spells, aren’t you?”
“As good as Shining Armor!” she proclaimed proudly. “Ah, not really. I was third in his class.”
They stopped. A yellowish wash of light swelled up from the bottom of the staircase. “Can you whip up something to protect all of us if I ask you?”
“Done, Doctor. Just what will you say?”
“Oh, probably something like your name or ‘now’, ‘shield’ or ‘hide!’ You know. Can’t plan everything. Slow up, he’s close.”
The cadre lightened their hoofsteps, and while The Doctor entered the light-warm space, each prepared in their own way for a fight. The stairwell expanded into a great doorless opening, making surprise nearly impossible. With less than a dozen steps down to the basement, the occupant would surely know of their arrival before soon.
“Come down. I’m in no mood for games. Nor am I in any shape to tease you into combat,” pronounced a virile baritone. Shock overcame the group, apart from The Doctor, who looked more resolute than ever. “Though I might enjoy the distraction.”
Pure, unwavering caramel light poured over the adventurers as they sojourned in this strange, silver and white box strewn lair. Pipes and cubes of peculiar apparatus were carefully arrayed against the walls. Ditzy gasped. “Doctor, this looks just like Twilight’s laboratory.”
“Yes, bubbly foal. It’s hers. I copied it. Little choice, given the alternative. Been a while, Doctor. Who’s this cutie? Your new companion? Quaint artifice of the eye she has.”
The Doctor was not amused by the congenial tone of the dark, purple coated colt’s banter. His mane was a sallow muted green, reaching back across his head like wind tossed grass. The relaxed body language he portrayed was not mirrored in his honey-yellow pupils. He wore a simple jet black leather vest.
The Doctor hissed angrily. “You would wear that here?”
“Oh pity me, you’re romanced already by these creatures? You’re not my tailor,” retorted the colt evenly. “Leather’s my style, but not really. I wore it just to get your mane in a knot.”
“You are in violation of the Shadow Proclamation. Tell me why you’re here. Now.”
The foreboding pony was then inclined, for some reason, to grant The Doctor eye contact. Summer felt it was not out of respect or intimidation, she realized, for he was not the least bit impressed. Her gut clenched. Ditzy and Brazen reacted alike, sensing the concealed danger.
“What’s ‘leather’?” Ditzy ventured.
“Animal skin,” the colt chuckled gutturally. “It’s stripped from the flesh of animals like you and tanned, stretched—”
“Enough! Jesper—”
“Call me Shattering Blight!” snarled the colt, and The Doctor could see the title envisioned upon his flank. The Cutie Mark had the rendering of a planet rent in two pieces, coreless and drifting. “Shadow Proclamation? I know I’m in violation of that bedraggled code! What’ll you do about me, anyway? Sic the Jidoon on me? Why are you here? How did you get here?”
Ask the TARDIS, The Doctor thought. The Jidoon haven’t served the Shadow Proclamation in some time, but he does not know that. Interesting. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“Oh shards, don’t play games with me. I don’t mean here. I mean here!”
“I’m asking the questions, Blight. I want to know why you’re kidnapping innocent ponies.”
Reproach lapped at the shore of Blight’s temper. “Oh, how might I be doing that? Go on. Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you, but I need to clear a few points up. This isn’t Twlight’s laboratory. I’ve been. She’s not got the atomic re-generator you have here. That,” he gestured at a cage with transparent walls, “can break down physical matter within seconds and extract specific compounds. Like sulfur.”
“So why would I be doing that? Raw sulfur won’t do me any good.”
The Doctor began to pace, meeting the eyes of each of his allies as he circled the room. “It wouldn’t, unless you needed it badly enough. Oh, but I’m putting it simply. You’re not all here. Have a costly scuffle, lately?”
Ditzy laughed. The Doctor glanced and her and the emotive caught in her throat. She swallowed.
“Oh if it were funny I would be laughing, too. Traveling between dimensions is expensive, my dearest filly,” The Doctor began with a glance of warmth at Ditzy. “Very. That watch you’re wearing … isn’t a watch. It injects chemically altered sulfur directly into the energy field that keeps you alive. I suppose it happened slowly at first, but you had time. You figured out what was missing and began kidnapping ponies to provide you with raw sulfur.”
“Caught me,” grinned Blight, unrepentant. “I’m strong, when I’m all here, thanks to-”
“And now you’re barely breathing,” The Doctor shot back, cutting him short. “It amazes me all the more you built this … right here. That tells me you traveled here in a ship. Where is it?”
“You’ve the manners of a zenubian blortworm, Doctor. Do you think I’ll tell you that?” he said, a hint of bitterness the first trace of unfeigned emotion he’d betrayed. “You won’t kill me. Bloody superior Time Lords. Even though I have killed here.”
He’s baiting me. I wonder why? “What are you protecting, Blight? What are you hiding? Killed? When did I say that? Just a look at the particle extractor tells me that someone merged it with a vortex generator. Primitive but clever as ponyfeathers. If I’m right those ponies aren’t dead, and I’ve no reason to doubt my own hypothesis … Your victims just out of their home dimension. Probably sent to where you came from, but there’s no way of telling with the correct codes, markers you have. You don’t know how it works, really. Bought it from a space pirate, I’m sure. You’re just smart enough to adapt it to your needs. Nothing more.”
“If you’re right. Ha! Even I don’t know for sure,” snorted Blight. “Oh go on, you and your hopeful theories. Fancy a trip in an energy blender? The chap who copped that didn’t have instructions. Had to suss out the hardware myself. You’re an arrogant colt. I adore this, Doctor, I do! You can’t take the signatures from me, the ones you need to rescue those ponies. Thank you for the spice.”
“Summer.” The Doctor’s jaw sawed.
“Yes Doctor?” she answered, grateful for the call to action.
“This pony needs to be taken into custody. He’s not a threat. Look at him, barely conscious.”
Summer beheld the villain, who was obviously starved, and shaking like a leaf. “Yes Doctor. Come on, you.”
Summer, Azure and Seeker encircled the colt, who half coughed and laughed before dropping on all fours. Seeker cautiously examined him.
“He’s fainted. Just how serious is this condition of his?” Seeker was befuddled by most of what had been said, but understood that Blight was gravely ill. The Doctor was already beside the extractor/vortex hybrid, pointing at it with his sonic screwdriver with no apparent plan.
“It’ll take just a moment for me to bring the rest of him here. He’ll die in a few minutes, so I’d best hurry. That energy injector is slapdash too. He’s not been here more than a few days. I’d wager the fight took the rest of the strength he had, and that’s when he began kidnapping ponies. It’s a logical thought, wouldn’t you say?” The Doctor muttered unpleasantly to himself, then called: “Derpy, will you hold this?”
“Oh. Okay. I was getting bored.”
Bored, hm? The Doctor passed his sonic screwdriver to her. “Now hold it here. Just a little up … and, ah. Brilliant.”
“He was lying about everything, Doctor,” Ditzy pointed out. The Doctor agreed, and then listened: “He was desperate. I know that feeling. There was a time Dinky got lost in the Everfree forest, and when I went looking for her. When I found her she was being chased by a Myria snake.”
“What’s a Myria snake?”
“Uh … they eat ponies, Doctor. They’re big. So big they can’t climb trees like some little snakes. At least that’s what Fluttershy said. I saw Dinky was tired out from flying and being chased. She was lying on the ground and the Myria was right over her. I flew into a panic, throwing as many rocks as I could find at it. I was desperate too, just like Blight – desperate to protect Dinky. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I never want to lose her. She’s all I have.”
“Desperate to protect … hm …” muttered the Doctor, not deliberately insensitive to the undercurrent of sorrow in Ditzy’s voice. He mashed a button on the square, metallic glossy control panel and the machine made a high, humming sound. “That’s it. He’s back. Smart design, this thing. No wonder Jes- Blight was able to sort it out. Even has a mode switch. Protect … protect … ah!”
“Can I put this down?”
The Doctor backed away from the machine and reclaimed his sonic screwdriver. “No. I’ll have it back. Thank you, Derpy. You’re brilliant.”
“Again? What did I do this time?” she queried, puzzled by his sombre tone. The Doctor regarded her apologetically.
“I said that wrong, didn’t I? You’re spot on. Shattering Blight was protecting something.” While he talked he explored the room. His eyes narrowed. “This is the one. Huh … now, video, audio … two way transmission … he was monitoring, too. Monitoring us? If he was kidnapping ponies, that makes sense.”
“Ah, but it leaves much unexplained about the ponies who performed the kidnapping.”
The Doctor froze, mind processing the so very familiar voice. He turned with a wide grin. “Forelock Holmes!”
“Doctor. The Doctor. Welcome to Canterlot.”
Carbon Fabrications