Chapter 43: Bear Trap

Royal receptionist Hoof Happy was having a good if somewhat uneventful day. The overflow of desperate and scared petitioners seeking an audience with the princesses that had been the order of the day going back about a month or two now had slacked off to normal levels, meaning his workload had lightened considerably. Happy was usually responsible for a sort of triage system, picking out legitimate concerns and ensuring that those of the highest priority got in quickly, while less pressing issues waited their turn. He also kept those obliged to wait for any considerable length of time calm and orderly, doing everything from crowd control to providing refreshments to those that needed them. On occasion, he had even been known to do a couple magic tricks his brother had taught him to keep cranky foals entertained.

Today barely called for it however, as the waiting chambers for Day Court were virtually empty. A few minor dignitaries and a representative for some Manehatten refugees, all with their paperwork in order and all able to fit neatly in the established docket, sat patiently and waited for their opportunity to speak with their ruler. In point of fact, Hoof was just about ready to settle down behind his desk and catch up on some paperwork, when the door to the reception hall slammed open with considerable force.

One might expect that this would generally elicit a reaction of surprise or even fright. Instead, the receptionist sighed. He knew that sound. Only ponies of considerable status with a bone to pick ever opened the door like that. When he looked up, the unfortunate fellow knew that all he could expect was the angry face of a pony that had enough coin to buy a private island several times over demanding to see the princess of their choice immediately, and hang any rules or protocol about simply barging in on a monarch. Not to mention anypony that might have been in line in front of them. All the same, poor Hoof had a job to do.

He raised his head and put on his best polite smile. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

Lord-Merchant Brash Brightlowe glared down imperiously at the receptionist. "You may inform Princess Celestia that I have arrived."

Hoof Happy maintained his pleasant smile. "Of course, Lord Brightlowe. If you would take a number, I'm sure you won't have to wait long, as today's docket is relatively light. Alternatively, you can make an appointment. We have some time slots available for tomorrow."

Lord Brightlowe was not amused.

Princess Celestia nodded politely to the representative from Las Pegasus. "We will ensure that somepony is dispatched to investigate your claims as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience in this matter."

"Of course, Princess," the representative replied, bowing. No sooner had he regained his feet than the doors to the hall swung open, revealing several alert palace guards flanking none other than Brash Brightlowe.

Celestia didn't miss a beat. "Good morning Lord Brightlowe, so good to see you again."

Lord Brightlowe bowed, though not quite as deeply as he might have normally. "Indeed, Princess, if only it were under better circumstances. I wish to speak with you regarding the death of my son, Brisk, and the possibility of legal action against his killer."

The monarch was infinitely grateful that Brightlowe had at least decided to come in the day, while Luna slept. What might happen if her sister were there for this . . . well it wasn't something she cared to contemplate. Hopefully she could deal with this problem through more diplomatic means than burning the head of an influential merchant family to ash. Still, she would be firm.

"Lord Brightlowe, your son attempted to commit criminal acts of the most heinous nature. He should have been in prison, or at least an institution for the mentally ill. How he even got out is unknown to me, but he used his freedom to ambush a federal agent, and died in the attempt. That is not the fault of said federal agent, Marshal Lewis. I'm afraid there is no recourse for legal action."

"Forgive me for interjecting princess, but that isn't quite correct." The feminine voice emanating from behind Lord Brightlowe would have been pretty if it weren't for the layer of malice buried in its tone. Lady Brat Brightlowe stepped into view, brushing her tail against her husband's flank in a manner that was simply inappropriate in the presence of the princess.

Celestia had always thought of Lady Brightlowe as being summed up by one word; 'shady.' Something about her mannerisms, the way she went unnoticed until the moment of greatest opportunity, all painted her in the Princess' mind as somepony not to be trusted. Her instincts were dead on. It was common knowledge that she was in charge of the more illicit aspects of the Brightlowe family's business. There was simply never any evidence to put a case together.

However, the princess was careful not to reveal her true thoughts in word or action, simply resolving never to trust anything the mare said at face value. Naturally, she had to question Lady Brightlowe's assertion. "Is that right? I presume you have some legal basis for this."

"Indeed," said the cunning mare, producing a piece of parchment. "I have here a copy of the Law Enforcement Procedural Code. It clearly states that in the event of the death or debilitating injury of a citizen of Equestria, wherein an officer of the law is present and no other witnesses are available to verify the circumstances of the event, the closest of kin to the injured or deceased party may demand a cross-examination, in a court of law, of the officer present, in order to ascertain to their satisfaction that no foul-play has occurred."

Brat rolled the parchment back up and presented it to Celestia. "So you see," she continued, "The issue at hand has nothing to do with whether my son deserved to die the way he did, a point I would prefer not to argue at this time, but whether his death occurred while the . . . er . . . federal marshal was obeying Equestrian law. My husband and I claim the right to cross examine the accused party to ascertain whether he killed Brisk, and whether in doing so he violated Brisk's rights and his own limits as a federal agent in doing so for ourselves."

Celestia examined the document closely. It was true, the Brightlowe family had the right to call Lewis to court to answer for his actions. "Very well then. Lewis will be brought before the royal court to plead his case."

"I'm sorry, but again, that just won't do," Brat said.

"How so?" Celestia asked, "The royal court is the highest and most incorruptible in Equestria."

"Normally so," Lady Brightlowe agreed, "However in this case, I'm afraid I must point out that the relevant article also stipulates that the choice of court is left to the family in such matters, and we would prefer a lower court, outside of Canterlot, with a judge that isn't so, and I hope you will forgive me for saying this, but a judge that is not so closely tied to the case."

Celestia frowned. The nasty little mare was right. "And in what good and honorable court would you like this matter settled?"

"The high court in Las Pegasus."

The last timber wolf snarled, surrounded on all sides by some very angry-looking ponies. There was much argument about how the creature should be executed, the pegasi adamant that their method was the surest, but the unicorns hoping for the honor of the final kill. Several earth ponies waited, as they themselves had only one method of attacking the beast, and getting in close enough to kick it to pieces might get a few of them killed in the process.

Lewis interrupted this scene with a shot from his pistol sent sky-ward. "Enough!" he yelled. The throng of ponies fell silent, awaiting his judgment. They had just recently been brainwashed cultists, and the mental trauma that came from that made them vulnerable to the influence of a powerful personality. Lewis had been keeping them alive, issuing their orders. Obedience came quite naturally by this point. The marshal circled the cornered beast, maintaining just enough distance that he could dodge aside if it struck out. It did not, keenly aware that it had no method of escape. It seemed more curious now, it's bloodlust set aside in favor of self-preservation. It too seemed to await a decision from the human.

Lewis examined it carefully, watching the wooden limbs clack together as it shifted its weight, looking for a way out. That was it though, wasn't it? The thing wasn't looking for a chance to strike, it wanted to escape, and the marshal was no executioner.

"Let it go," he said finally.

"Are you sure about that, mon ami?" Magus asked, "It might come back to haunt us later."

"I doubt that," Lewis replied, "I think seeing its whole pack wiped out might have taught this one something. At least enough to keep it away. Besides, even if it tries something, I think this herd has proven it can defend itself."

There were murmurs of assent as the ring of ponies parted to leave an open path into the Everfree forest. The creature was suspicious. Was it truly being allowed to leave? It took a cautious step. Nopony moved to stop it. It took another. Again, there were no repercussions. It continued inching toward the tree line.

It met its demise two steps short of safety.

To Lewis it seemed as though the night sky had returned in spite of the rising sun, and scooped up the wooden canine, raising it high, high into the air before swallowing it into nothingness. A last mournful howl was cut short as teeth the size of plow-blades snapped shut, sealing the predator away forever.

It took the human several seconds to accurately assess what he was seeing. The shape of dark midnight sky, complete with stars, made a rumbling sound and looked down upon the collection of ponies and their human leader, and finally its form was made clear against the backdrop of dawn. It was a bear. Sort of.

"Ursa Major!" Primus yelled, "Run!"

There was no need to urge any of them. As one the gathered ponies turned and fled back up the hill, instinct driving them on. Several collapsed from exhaustion and had to be helped along. They just weren't fast enough.

The paw of the great beast descended again, and four of the herd were snatched up, screaming for help that none there were equipped to offer. Their cries, like the timber wolf's final lament, were cut off abruptly by the enormous jaws of the true apex predator of Equestria.

Lewis found himself being left behind until Bourbon appeared, and the cowboy performed what was probably the most perfectly executed running mount of his life, swinging up onto the quarter horse's broad back. "What are we going to do about this?" Bourbon asked, calmly, convinced that his partner already had a plan.

"Gimme a minute," the human on his back replied, which was not at all the response the exhausted workhorse had hoped for.

"I think that's all you have," Magus called out, pulling up alongside them.

"Magus!" Lewis called, "You have anything left?"

Magus shook his head, "All I have left are simple tricks, nothing that could work on that thing!"

"What tricks?!" the marshal asked, prepared to take what he could get.

"Just a few noise makers!" the nomad called back.

Lewis didn't hesitate. "Give them to me!"

The sun was well up but the mood in Ponyville library couldn't have been darker. Six mares and a young dragon sat together, each trying to think of something to say, each completely silent. They had expected Lewis' group to send word by now but still nothing happened. Some snack food sat uneaten, the appetites in the room quite inactive.

Finally, it was Spike that broke the silence. He didn't say anything, but that old familiar belch of a letter arriving from Princess Celestia could have been a bomb going off for the effect it had on the other occupants of the massive book-filled tree. Even Applejack had to stand up from behind the couch she had used for cover, brushing herself off and looking embarrassed.

The scroll fell into Spike's claws, and he promptly examined it for the recipient. "To Everypony," he said. They all crowded around as he continued. "I have received word from Magus Neon that the strike force has accomplished its goal, and that the hostages have been recovered. However, as of the time I am sending this letter, I have received no more updates."

The baby dragon paused here to look at the worried faces surrounding him. "Aw, come on guys, they did it! That's good news. We don't know anything else yet." Some of them managed to smile nervously. Fluttershy seemed determined to remain worried out of her mind nevertheless.

Spike kept reading. "Furthermore, I want you all to prepare yourselves, because Lewis will not be able to rest much when he returns, and we must all be ready to help him. In spite of the work of the finest legal minds in Equestria, charges are being leveled against Lewis regarding the death of Brisk Brightlowe, and I am afraid I am unable to use my authority to interfere on his behalf. When he returns, he is allowed one week's rest, before he must make his way to Las Pegasus, to stand before a court of law to defend his actions in Canterlot. He will need your support. Thank you, singed Princess Celestia."

Spike rolled the scroll up and set it down. Any hopeful smiles in the room had been removed. Now each mare bore expressions of despair, outrage, and in Applejack's case, murderous fury.

"Tea, anypony?" Spike prompted, acknowledging to himself that this was going to be a very long, trying day indeed.

"What are we going to do with those?" Bourbon asked, running full tilt as the Ursa Major's paw descended again, scooping more hapless victims into its gaping maw.

"Still working on that," said Lewis, holding the bundle that Magus had given him. He looked up at the gigantic star-spotted bear-thing. He saw as it targeted yet another group. The spot it focused on was occupied by an older stallion. He was crying out in pain. Apparently he had fallen and broken something. Lewis saw the creature's ears twitch at the sound. "Got it!"

With the flawless symbiosis the duo had developed over their years together, Lewis leaned to the left, peeling away from the bulk of the fleeing herd. He pulled one of the devices in the bag loose, finding that looked like a coconut with a wailing face painted on, and pressed what he hoped was the "on" button.

Fortunately, Magus tried to make most of his equipment stupid-simple. The little coconut popped open and emitted a piercing wail. Lewis wanted badly to cover his ears, but he was preoccupied by the gigantic paw that redirected itself from the old stallion to pursue the obnoxious sounds of the little device.

The blow missed by mere inches, sending rider and steed reeling. Lewis barely managed to keep himself in the saddle. "Over there!" he yelled, pointing towards the ruined side of the hill where the charred remains of Antistita Pestis still smoldered. Bourbon recovered his wits quickly, maneuvering towards the giant corpse. As they approached, he could hear the Ursa Major's thunderous footsteps behind them, gaining easily in spite of their speed.

Just before the last footfall would overtake them, Lewis hurled the wailing thing hard at the gigantic corpse of the plague-priestess. It landed squarely on the thing's neck. Not a moment passed before a massive paw came down claws first, obliterating a large chunk of flesh. The marshal quickly primed another noise-maker, and threw it as well onto the wall of rotten meat. Again, down came the paw, massive bladed claws cutting deep. Within a minute, Lewis had emptied the bag, and the remains were being torn apart by the berserk sky-bear.

"Come on," said Lewis, "come on . . . ." Sure enough, maddened by the screeching noises that echoed in its skull, the Ursa Major resorted to its most powerful weapon in a desperate bid to end the noise. It roared its fury once more to the heaven before sinking its teeth deep into the scraps of necrotic tissue beneath it.

And so Antistita Pestis claimed her final victim.

Ursa Majors are powerful, enormous, and resistant to poisons and toxins of all kinds. They can survive on food of extraordinarily low quality and virtually any state of decomposition, so long as there is enough of it, but even that massive engine of destruction was not immune to the virulent diseases that infested the flesh of the plague-bitch.

At first, Lewis couldn't tell that his plan had worked, as the Ursa Major continued tearing frantically at the body, still working to end the excruciating noise, unaware of the war being fought within its own body. Within a minute, however, the feeling that something was wrong penetrated its brain. It looked down to see the rot spreading from its gut. The pain of the noise was now secondary to the pain from within, and with the ferocity natural to its kind, the great ursine attacked, tearing itself apart in a frenzy.

It was all over within moments. A final pained groan, and the lights on its body flickered and went out. The thunderous boom of the immense body hitting the ground sent cracks rippling outward from the point of impact. Bourbon trotted over to its mouth. No sound of breathing remained. It was dead.

"So," Lewis said, exchanging a look with his old friend, "What else do yah s'pose is gonna try and kill us today?"

Yeah, you ever have one of those days? Sorry if this turned out a bit short this time. Please review, tell your friends, and if anyone would be interested in helping me go back and clean up this story from chapter one in preparation for putting it on Fimfiction, let me know.