Barlent

“Nothing?” the Captain asked.

“Nothing but some strange choices of clothing.” stated Torner.

“I really thought there'd be something in that box of his, sir.” Grimsly said. The four leaders of Sable, Greywacke included, had gathered in the Captain’s stateroom late at night to discuss their Equestrian passengers. Focusing on one in particular, of course.

“Why would the Tetrarchy send us after this Caballeron if he doesn't have anything of value?” Torner questioned to himself. “He's got to know something, then! He's got to!”

“Oh, he does.” said Greywacke, the political officer. Greywacke was not a talker; and when he did speak, his voice was always soft. It was slightly unnerving at how calm and quiet the rat remained, no matter the circumstance. Maybe that's why he was made a political officer? “I believe that the archaeologist carries something with him. However, we have no proof.”

Barlent turned to his executive officer. “Torner, put on the thinking music.”

“Yes, sir.” Torner walked over to a cabinet of records, and placed one from a well-worn cover on the phonograph. “Ambrose's 8th symphony, as requested.” he remarked, placing the record on the device and switching it on.

“There we go.” said Barlent, standing up and beginning to pace about. He fetched his pipe from the table, and lit it. “Grimsly, turn the record over when it is finished.”

“Yes, sir.” Grimsly said, nodding.

“The question is... what is the value of Caballeron?” began the Captain. “What makes him worth starting a war with Equestria over? And that is what's going to happen, mark my words.” He stabbed his tail in the air in emphasis. “There was a good reason for abducting him.”

“What if there wasn't, sir?” suggested Grimsly.

“Then the Republic is finished, because it's run by madrats!” Barlent waved his pipe at the marine. “No, I do not believe this was a fool's gamble. If our government thinks there was a reason, then there was a reason, and we will figure it out.”

The best idea he and Torner could come up with was that Caballeron had carried something other than mare's clothing in his box, and had switched it out at some point. That meant Coco Pommel was involved.

“Unlikely.” Greywacke said. “She's an Equestrian who's never left homeland, breaking rules does not come naturally to her kind.”

“Perhaps our Doctor convinced her to do something.” Torner said.

“Perhaps. But as Greywacke said, we have no proof.” stated Barlent. “And I'm not about to violate the privacy of a lady on a hunch.”

“Why not? She is a prisoner of war, technically speaking. What rights does she have?” asked Greywacke, shrugging. Barlent now had to wave his pipe at the political officer.

“What rights doesn't she have?” barked Barlent. “What are we? Pirates, or sailors? I won't make a mockery of international law, not while I still command this ship. If you wanted to spit on decency and morality, you should have gotten assigned to the army.” Torner winced at that, but Greywacke looked as cool as ever.

“This is your ship, Captain.” Greywacke inclined his head, speaking so respectfully it was almost mocking.

“You're damn right it is.” muttered Barlent, turning to look out the windows of his stateroom. He opened the doors to the captain's walk for fresh air, but did not go out. The music went on for a few minutes more, and Grimsly had to flip the record. It was then that Barlent finally thought of something. “Ah... Yes, I have it!”

“You do, sir?” asked Torner.

“We will play dumb with the Equestrians for now. As far as we know, we were told to snatch Caballeron and nothing else. We don't know why, we don't suspect him of anything, we pretend to be as confused as he is pretending to be. We don't suspect Miss Coco Pommel, either. If she is in league with Caballeron, we'll find out.” Barlent rubbed his hands together. “Now, here is what we will do...”

Author's Note

Pretend this is Ambrose's 8th Symphony, because I did:

And yes, I know I broke the pattern. Barlent was always planned to have a few scattered POVs. He's probably got two more in this story before the end.