Hegira: Rising Omega

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 5
Chapter 9

Prologue

Author's Note

Author's Foreword and Forewarning:

The Simple Nutrition Facts:
///This story is dark, anticapitalistic, collapse-aware, a touch foul-mouthed/beaked, and absolutely soaked in blood.///

The Complete Ingredients Label, and Manifesto:
Not Black Mirror Dark.

But dark.

Maybe Battlestar Galactica Dark, or thereabouts.

It is darker than its two preceding stories, certainly. But I like to 'write Chiaroscuro.' For the darkest darks, come also the lightest lights, and I promise the reader that both are in this story in equal measure.

For those of you like me who just can't stand it, and must know certain things before investing, here is a mild-to-moderate spoiler to help you decide:

This book does not end in an 'everyone dies' bad ending and far more main characters will live to see tomorrow than not.

But it will also not be as easy a journey, nor as completely rosy an ending, as the preceding two either, and not all characters are as safe from the reaper as they used to be, or from things equivalent to, or worse than, death.

This story also ups the ante with some of the invectives/cursing/colorful metaphors as the characters enter into increasing times of stress. Not as much language as Deadpool, but definitely more than Star Trek, if you're looking to establish a frame of reference.

Also, incase you somehow missed over six hundred thousand words of buildup in books one and two: I LOVE GRYPHONS. GRYPHONS ARE MY JAM. And I will unapologetically use my works as a platform to sing their praises and give them a little too much power, plot armor, moral high ground, and a liberal supply of whoop-assium even as I put them through torturous hell to achieve victory, beause they never get enough screen or page time in media, let alone *good* screen or page time.

Don't stick around if you expect me to go out of my way to show how Humans could defeat Gryphons in my world because guess what? They couldn't. No matter how much of a head-start you gave them. Same goes for Dragons, or Changelings, or Diamond Dogs to an only infinitesimally lesser degree. You're a Human, and you fuck around with a Dragon? You will find out in my world. In a *hurry.* No amount of technobabble or jingoistic patriotism will save the hide that pokes a scale.

Shoutout to all my Scale and Chitin and Fur covered comrades.

And finally, be advised all readers; The trigger warnings are not frakkin around in this one.

Gore means gore. Limbs get removed. And organs. Sometimes not so cleanly as a Disney Approved lightsaber blow complete with auto-cauterization.

Death means death. Lots of it. War-crimes-using-Strategic-Weapons' worth of death.

Violence means that I'm working on putting George RR to shame, so brace yourself.

Profanity means that while it won't be littered with it, I'm not holding back the shit quite so much as I damn used to. (You see what I fuckin did there?)

And again; Dark. Means. Dark.

If you are here to see Celestia and Luna somehow triumphantly turn the barrier around, and save the ruined Earth, and rejuvenate it, and for everything to end in a peaceful United Federation of Planets? I get it, I love Star Trek too, and sometimes I enjoy that unbridled optimism.

This is not that kind of story.

You've now been suitably warned.

If you're still here?

Cinch down the high-G harness. Raise your defense shields. Prime your railguns.

Drop the needle on the playlist (not organized in any particular order except that the first item is sort of a theme for the story, peruse and you'll have some idea what goes with what in general)

And enjoy.

Prologue

“Don't adventures ever have an end?

I suppose not.

Someone else always has to carry on the story.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien

“The world is so much larger than I thought.

I thought we went along paths-

-but it seems there are no paths.

The going itself is the path.”

― C.S. Lewis

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Third Day, Celestial Calendar

"Sister?"

Celestia paused for a long, uncertain moment. Her sibling remained silent, and motionless.
A shadowy form against the even darker backdrop of a waning moon. The lack of lights in the Lunar Monarch's study left it a cold, forbidding space, trimmed all in silver and deepest blue.

"Sister."

The elder Alicorn repeated the word, with a firm but warm tone, that strongly hinted at the depths of concern beneath her relatively tame visage.

Luna glanced up from her musings, and offered Celestia a piercingly emotional glance equal parts remorse, resignation, and gnawing concern. The Night Ruler's words, and the flat, almost prophetic tone of their delivery, did nothing to allay Celestia's concern.

"The nightfall of this age is upon us. A darkness moves through the edges of the land. Gathering. Preparing. Ready to exploit our time of weakness..."

Celestia moved to sit on the balcony beside her sibling, shivering involuntarily from the words, and the sting of the winter air. Luna finally locked eyes with her sister in full. The tears the younger Alicorn had been biting back were suddenly painfully apparent at close range.

Her voice began to crack as she finished putting verbal form to her dark thoughts.

"A weakness which I opened us to. And now all will suffer mightily for it, as our age comes crashing to a fell end. In silence, and in ruin."

As Luna began to cast her eyes downwards, the Solar monarch reached out, and firmly held her chin up with one hoof, forcing her sister to keep their gazes locked. Celestia's words issued forth, as firmly as her gesture.

"You need rest, dear sister. You are far less a realist, and more a pessimist, when you are exhausted. We both still feel, so keenly, the drain of our saving acts these eight months past. More than that, you need to accept that the loss of the Elements was not your fault."

Celestia sighed, and turned her gaze to the brilliant panoply of stars above. She continued slowly, drawing some small comfort from the brilliance of the sight before her.

"You had every reason to think them unsafe in our care, and they arrived as expected at their destination. No one, not even Cadence, could have foreseen the fault in her castle's defenses. It was older than most of recorded history."

The elder Alicorn sighed, and turned her eyes back to her sister as she continued her admonishment.

"I do not doubt that evil things are now stirring, readying themselves to snuff out the light and life of our civilization. But to do so? They must step out of the shadows, and into the last of the light. And then we will see them. We will know our enemy. We will face them at last. And we will make an end of this..."

Celestia rose, and her face hardened as she finished, her voice acquiring a rare and potent edge of steel that was highly uncharacteristic of her peaceful nature.

"We will make an end of this which will long be remembered. And in doing so, I would not even know where to make a start, were you not by my side. We *each* have our faults. And without you, mine would have seen us carried away into darkness long ago."

Luna raised an eyebrow, and for a brief moment, a spark of distant morbid humor twinkled in her eyes, and her tone.

"Couldst we have what you have quoth in writing?"

Celestia smiled, and gestured to the warm light of the castle's main corridor.

"Come. A late tea is brewing, and I need your council."

Luna rose, and followed her sister to the door, head tilted to one side in a gesture of curiosity.

"My council as to what?"

Celestia turned as she entered the corridor, and exhaled slowly, nodded her thanks and dismissal to Luna's Nightguards as she spoke.

"In the words of the Humans, 'We have company for dinner...' "

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 2nd, Gregorian Calendar

"Astris... What is this exactly?"

Councilor Martins pursed her lips as she examined the DaTab, the clank of her boots echoing off the gangway in nearly perfect synchronization with the softer thump of Astris' hooves. The unicorn winced reflexively, and sighed as he delivered an explanation.

"Two more people backed out. From the Atlantis roster. Husband and wife... A microbiologist and a triple PhD systems engineer."

Councilor Janet Martins stopped, leaning momentarily on the gangway railing and pinching the bridge of her nose, the DaTab folded under one arm.

She stared out at the fruition of her decades and decades of work, and sighed. Fifteen immense silver arrowhead shapes, each three times as long as a football stadium structure, and nearly half-again as wide.

Their scale was difficult to grasp at first. It was only after one began to perceive the roughly twelve thousand miles of tracks, loading gantries, gangways, and the ant-sized people scrambling about the superstructures, that one could truly comprehend the size of each ship.

Each and every vessel was intended to carry fifteen thousand people, and the first fifteen ships were only the first of five waves. In the distance behind the first rows of gargantuan silhouettes, an identical fifteen frames were swiftly taking shape.

The components for two of the other three waves had already been completed, and were merely awaiting free assembly docks. All in all, earth hoped to send out one million, one hundred twenty five thousand living souls. A seed. The genesis of something far greater.

Martins exhaled a ragged, slow breath, and glanced down at her companion. The Unicorn had been her assistant for several years, and in that time he had become as much a friend and confidant as an administrator.

"That makes the eighth withdrawal this week."

Astris grimly followed Martin's eyeline, watching as a two story thirty foot long crate of food supplies was carefully moved down a magnetic track, into one of the great ship's side loading bays.

"Ninth."

Martins winced, and shook her head once more.

"People are frightened, Astris. It's one thing to talk about exploring strange new worlds... Planting new life, and new civilization... But when you confront people with a cryotube? When the PER is breathing threats and hatred? It's a whole different ball game."

Silence reigned for a moment, as the two friends swept the barren African plains with their eyes. The space was given over more to steel and duracrete than to sand, dirt, or petrified trees. Great gaping assembly pits, twenty lane access roads, and high speed monorail tracks cut the desert floor into geometric patterns visible with the naked eye from the surface of the Moon.

Bunkhouses, research labs, fueling towers as large as ten city blocks, cold storage bays, and logistics warehouses filled the remaining free ground. Megalithic gray slabs, marching infinitely into the distance.

It was a small country unto itself, bustling with the frenzied activity of a quarter million crew, and five times that number in construction, support, and loading personnel.

Martins exhaled and threw up her hands, turning to look down at Astris.

"By the time we launch we may have half as many Equestrians onboard as Humans. So this brings our deficit to... What?"

Astris rattled off the names and numbers by heart. Memory and logistics were his job, and the Unicorn was exceptionally talented at his job.

"Six on Vostok, four on Voskhod, one on Mercury, none on Gemini, three on Apollo, twelve on Salyut, eight on Shenzhou, three on Tiangong, seven on Challenger, five on Discovery, three on Endeavour, fifteen on Atlantis, seven on Columbia, thirteen on Soyuz, and nine on Mir."

Martins sighed once again, and collected her thoughts. She turned back to face the nearest loading operation, sweeping the myriad immense cargo pallets with her eyes as she opened her mouth.

The words never came.

Martins winced, and buried her face in her arm as a brilliant flare of light filled her vision. Her ears screamed out for mercy as shock and pressure waves arrived, bringing with them a raging fury of sound that seemed to herald the end of the universe.

The heat from the explosion was easily felt on uncovered skin, even at a distance of half a mile.

At last, Martins and Astris found themselves able to look up as the ringing in their skulls abated, and their eyes adjusted to the momentary luminous assault. The final echoes of the detonation slowly died away, reverberating time and again off harsh, solid surfaces.

Martins hissed as she beheld the damage. An entire loading gantry attached to the Shenzhou, the nearest of the ships, had been wiped from existence. The damage extended nearly all the way to the ground level access road, and back up against the hull of the ship, which was carbon-scored in several building-sized patches around the loading bay aperture.

The interior of the loading bay had devolved into chaos, as the force of the detonation toppled crate stacks and threw people aside like ragdolls.

Astris whistled, and his eyes looked so wide, Martins wondered if they would simply pop from their sockets.

"Threats and hatred, Ma'am? That looks like a hell of a lot more than threats and hatred..."

Martins grit her teeth sharply as she steadied herself against the gangway railing, fire rising in her eyes and her tone alike. A piercing emergency condition siren crescendoed in from all sides, accenting her words as if by design.

"They've crossed a line. And God as my witness, they are going to wish they hadn't."

Astris blinked repeatedly, stammering to get his words out as he watched a swarm of emergency vehicles filled the access road.

"Pardon me ma'am, but what do we have that could scare off anyone that fanatical?"

Martins raised an eyebrow, and snorted her response.

"We have a favor to call in."

The Councilor turned on one heel and strode off, contrary to all normal human impulse, in the direction of the unfolding disaster. Her silhouette was framed by columns of smoke, and flame as she grit out her instructions in a fierce timbre.

"Get me a fast Equestrian courier. *Yesterday.*"

"There has been... A complication."

Veritas nodded towards the image on her viewscreen, pursing her lips in frustration. The emotion spilled over into her words, but only as the tiniest hint of a shift in tone.

"I can see that for myself. The incident has already become public knowledge. This presents a definitive obstacle to the plan. The Genesists are now aware that the threat constitutes more than mere words, and they will act swiftly to secure themselves. How did this happen?"

The figure on the screen sighed, and shook its head.

"The fool of an infiltrator failed to pack the device with proper EMF shielding. Nearby scanning equipment set off the timed detonator ahead of schedule. Only a loading bay and a few segments of hull plating were damaged."

Veritas nodded slowly, and leaned in towards the monitor. The relatively dim, but concentrated light of her office spilled over her mane, causing the surface to glisten like some far off starfield, as cold and heartless as her words.

"If necessary, see to this matter yourself. The Genesists are seeking a solution... An enemy to strike... So give them one. Feed them the remaining assets on site if you must. Make it convincing. But ensure that the plan proceeds as outlined, and on schedule."

The figure nodded, then tilted its head.

"What of the Shenzhou? We are now short one device."

Veritas shook her head, and sat back, focusing her eyes on the blank pearlescent white surface of the room's back wall. The twin teal orbs glittered with an unholy, unearthly light; eerily unfamiliar to all who looked upon them. And unmistakably malevolent.

"Inconsequential. Based on the news footage of the damage, the Earth Creatures will not be able to fully repair their 'Shenzhou' in time to launch it with the other fourteen vessels. Therefore it is of no concern."

A small smile cracked the surface of Veritas' muzzle as she terminated the connection with a wave of her hoof. As the unicorn rose, and made her way to the center of her inner chamber, she murmured softly to herself.

"Fourteen are sufficient to make our point."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Third Day, Celestial Calendar

In The Darkness, the void of voids, the space between, the voice of the one-who-would-lead reverberated softly. Cast in the frigid fires of celestial matter, yet as dark and soft as a black silken curtain.

"The plan moves to schedule, in spite of recent events. Proceed with final preparations on all fronts. Begin with the defilers. The skin changers. The usurpers. A potential alliance is burgeoning between them, and their weaker cousins. See to it that this does not come to pass."

As if leading an immense orchestral crescendo into a thoroughly sour note, the voice of the one-who-would-lead rose to a fever pitch, backed by the affirmations of her billions upon billions of subjects.

"Show them FEAR! Shatter their plans, and defile their associations! Show them HATE! Sow discord, and STRIFE! Show them DARKNESS! Show them DEATH!"

"In bonds of family six set out; To seek The Dispossessed,

In joy and sorrow, grief and strife, bearing morbid stress.

Where Sun and Moon the expanse share, the six will find the power,

To put an end to Darkness... Strife... The war of Night's own hour..."

Chapter 1

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 2

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fourth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

"Brother... Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?"

Kephic grit his beak as he tugged hard on the cinch of my backplate. The speckled Gryphon shook his head slowly, and stepped back, talons crunching softly in the snow. Not for the first time, a small part of me marveled at how good his natural winter camouflage was; Like a snow leopard mixed with an osprey.

Wincing, half as much over the words, as the mild physical discomfort, I raised an eyebrow and offered my adoptive brother a knowing look, keeping my tone low so that none of the spectators would hear the conversation.

"If only it were that simple. You know Neyla. When she gets an idea in her head..."

Kephic nodded, and inclined his head.

"Right. Well, you're set."

I flashed a brief smile by way of thanks. I had set out with only light armor for the morning, and hadn't fancied the concept of facing skilled opponents without the remainder of my full combat protective cladding.

Another voice chimed in momentarily, with a familiar note of dispassion that belied far deeper inner emotions.

"Not quite."

My head whipped to the side, and I lifted both foreclaws in time to pluck a pair of glittering curved dirks from mid-air. I flashed my other sibling a smile, and the large golden Gryphon responded with a similar gesture for a brief moment.

Varan had always shown incredible control over the outward expression of his emotions, and a small smile was a veritable outpouring of affection by his standards.

I relished every one of those moments.

Below his colder exterior, Varan may well have been the most emotional of us all. To express any convivial emotion visibly was an indicator of strong affection from him. The number of times Kephic, the rest of our little family, and I got to see his smile, as compared to anyone else, was testament to a deep and abiding love.

Pushing aside that train of thought, I tucked the small knives away into hidden compartments in my wing joint guards. The weapons had become one of several additions to the structure of my armor over recent months as I attempted to identify and address some of my worst weaknesses in close combat.

The dirks were useful as either throwable weapons that could be accessed with a single claw, or as a secondary mid-reach weapon for the free claw when wielding my sword with a lone claw.

Longer than a dagger, but shorter than a short sword. An excellent balance for my typical claw-to claw attack strategies, and very reminiscent of the tritanium KA-Bars I had favored as a Marine.

I had always valued adaptability, speed, precision, and unpredictable swift changes to the combat tempo, even before my Conversion. And even more-so than the average Gryphon knight.

The basic concepts were common to Gryphic warfare, but I prided myself on taking them to unheard-of extremes.

Doing so required spur-of-the-moment, devious, potent creativity, under impossibly great pressures. Something which few beings, of any species, possessed in great measure, but which Humans seemed to have an unusual penchant for all the same, and which I had held onto with ease as I crossed the species line.

As my brothers stepped out of the ring, Neyla sidled up, casting a wry glance over her shoulder at the King and Queen.

"At least they gave us ten minutes to prepare. That was sporting of them."

Snorting, I drew my sword, working my right front shoulder joint to slightly loosen the armor plating over the area, and quell a minor itch in an ill-seated feather.

"It won't help much. I've seen Siidran put Brelik flat on his back in less than thirty seconds, when he's having a good day. And as for Linnea, I have no idea... But mothers have a scary way of winning. Even in the most impossible of situations, let alone against such outmatched opponents. If half the rumors are true, she could take us to task alone, with one foreleg tied to one wing, without breaking a sweat."

Neyla inclined her head, and sighed.

"When you put it like that, it sucks the fun out of it. I'll tell you this; The Queen favors attacks starting from the left side, so her right side is the less defended in relative terms. The King's only weakness is perhaps that his sword is of the unusually heavy variety for its class, making it slightly slower than yours, and appreciably slower than mine."

I squinted, and murmured out of the left side of my beak as the two monarchs moved to ready positions across the arena, spinning out the strategy mentally only moments before the words left my syrinx.

"Right then. So we start off with the obvious, traditionalist, flawed approach. You hold off Linnea, I'll attack the king head-on. Then we'll swap attack vectors abruptly as soon as they enter combat rhythm, and maybe that will put them off-balance long enough for us to survive more than twenty seconds. The Kobayashi Maru isn't about winning, but how you lose after all..."

Neyla nodded, and squared her stance, cross-drawing her short blades and twirling them in opposite directions about her claws.

"Peculiar Human cultural reference notwithstanding... You take lead on this. Our best asset is your... 'Unconventional' style."

I raised an eyebrow as I raised his sword to a starting defensive posture.

"Is that sarcasm, implying I'm a dirty cheater? Or a compliment?"

The Gryphoness winked, and sidestepped slightly to face off against Linnea.

"Yes."

My heart skipped a beat. It always did when she winked like that.

Siidran stepped forward to stand across from me, and dipped his head.

"Good luck to you both! Let us do our best to entertain!"

The crowd, which had swelled to number in the thousands, let out a thunderous shout of approval, mixed with the occasional keening avian call, and scattered applause. Half the city had turned out for the spectacle.

The thought brought more ice to my breastbone than the chill of winter's wind.

As the noise died down to hushed expectation, there was a brief pause.

Relative silence hung over the clearing then. The only sounds were the soft crunch of paws and claws upon snow, and the nervous rustle of feathers.

I knew that the monarchs had what amounted to infinite patience, by Gryphon standards, so I decided to give them precisely what they would be prejudiced to expect from someone as young as we were, relatively speaking.

I charged Siidran madly with an all-out assault.

The maneuver was the purview of fools and fledglings, but I had no intention whatsoever of fully committing to it. I simply wanted to force the King and Queen to engage quickly, rather than let them gain a further advantage through long drawn-out pre-combat jockeying for attack positions.

At the last possible millisecond, I pivoted away, leaving Siidran with nothing meaningful to defend against, and nothing in particular to counter-attack.

Linnea was far too clever to obey her baser instincts and step in to capitalize on my brief vulnerability. Though I had exposed my flank to her, any attempt to exploit that would in turn leave the Queen entirely open to a vicious assault by Neyla, and I knew that full well.

As the two Gryphonesses engaged in exploratory pre-assault maneuvers, I took a passing swipe at Siidran with one wing.

As expected, the King deflected with his sword, easily and elegantly forcing me to duck to avoid an unpleasant and disadvantageous shock-injury to my left side.

The defensive-abort opened me to an assault from the King, providing an opportunity far too important for Siidran to miss. He obligingly lunged forward, delivering a terrific wallop to my skull with both of his own wings.

I had been ready for the assault. While it was a minor victory for Siidran, it did far less to wear down my defenses than the king might have hoped.

My armor was a constantly evolving experiment in fusing Human military ingenuity with Gryphic experience and technology. The helmet had been retrofitted with an advanced shock-absorbing gel-layer of my own design, based in part off Earthgov standard assaut equipment, and in part off older prototypical Gryphic technology of a similar stripe.

The cushioning of the gel turned what should have been a head-spinning instantaneous victory into a minor, pointless jolt; Easily shrugged off for a warrior with any real combat hardening.

I had taken a grenade to the face before. I'd had far worse.

Siidran raised an eyebrow in a gesture of complimentary surprise as I ducked in under his defenses, exploiting the opportunity to lambaste the King's left side with the flat of my sword.

The entire exchange was over in less than a single second, and we withdrew a foreleg's length, and began to circle. I was vaguely aware that Neyla and Linnea had also sparred briefly, with neither emerging especially victorious.

All four of us were keenly aware that the real fight had yet to begin. Neither side had shown their true strategy, nor engaged beyond the point of swift extrication as of yet.

In Gryphon terms, two seconds was an eternity for a fight. An entire extended, leisurely prelude to a much more vicious fracas. It was the most potent natural advantage we had at our disposal, and also one of the hardest tools to learn true mastery for a Convert like me.

An onlooker of any other species, save perhaps a Changeling, Wisp, Pegasus, or Dragon, wouldn't have even seen combat occur at all. Most of it passed far too swiftly for slower brains and eyes to process as any sort of meaningful data.

The Gryphic ability to perceive and understand events in absolute quantum real-time was perhaps our most devastating capability on the battlefield, matched truly evenly only by Changelings, or Wisps.

Though we paid for our complementary agility and lightness with relatively brittle bones, by Equestrian standards, we seldom found the need to take a hit directly from an opponent.

All but Changelings and Wisps were not agile enough to engage us directly, even those like Dragons or Pegasi that could hope to perceive an assault from us in the first place.

Where Dragons, Diamond Dogs, Minotaurs, and Earth ponies relied on their raw capacity to shrug off impossibly massive amounts of punishment, and Pegasi found straight line speed as their best ally, we Gryphons could simply sidestep it entirely.

Thus, most Gryphon close-combat training revolved around gaining experience in intuiting an opponent's strategy, and focusing hard enough to react faster on the order of single picoseconds, in order to 'slowly,' in relative terms, build a lead on the enemy's movements.

To a Human onlooker, such engagements would appear to be a three second flurry of unintelligible lights and noise. I knew what that was like. I had tried to watch more than one bout between Kephic and Varan pre-Conversion, and never managed to process even an instant of what transpired.

To a Gryphon, or perhaps an observing Pegasus, it was a six or seven hundred move chess game played with swords, claws, beaks, and wings, where every strike and counter-strike was an attempt to gain a tiny bit of leverage to build towards victory.

My problem lay in the fact that Siidran had centuries of experience in the game. He knew every single well-worn move, and countermove in the Gryphon playbook, and quite a few from most other Equestrian species.

He was comfortable in his feathers in a transcendental way that even I could not yet achieve.

Worse, the King possessed a level of combat focus that allowed him to process his senses several picoseconds faster than I could. In Gryphic measurements, that was an unquantifiably devastating advantage. One that a Gryphon could only master with decades of practice.

Decades I did not yet possess.

My first advantage lay in the fact that I had learned to play the game from an entirely different species-perspective in the first place. One that was still deeply alien to most Gryphons.

My second, related advantage lay in an ability to completely disregard traditions, rules, expectations, and even instincts when necessary, with minimal effort.

My 'Human kernel layer,' as a Unicorn friend had once put it, programmer that she was.

Siidran smiled slightly, speaking as he took a casual swipe at me with his sword, which I easily diverted.

"I'm impressed. Your technical warfare experience is commendable, and it serves you well."

Raising an eyebrow, I dipped one wing into a slight feint, causing Siidran to tense involuntarily.

"Flattery isn't going to put me off balance, if that's what you're hoping for."

As Siidran offered a genuinely pleased grunt in response, I exchanged a quarter-second glance with Neyla, indicating when and how I was going to open an opportune moment for us to switch opponents.

"I think you're right. But I'm afraid you've played that piece to its limit now. I apologize in advance for the bruises you'll soon have."

Chuckling grimly, I shook my head slightly as he prepared to re-engage.

"Trust me. You can't do anything to me that Neyla hasn't already put me through a thousand times. I'm resigned to it."

Siidran inclined his head as he spun his sword around into a new ready-position.

"Well... Then I shall feel considerably less guilt as a result of your discomfort."

I tucked my right wing and rolled to the side, anticipating a forthcoming strike. As I felt the air disturbance generated by the passage of my opponent's weapon, I flexed all the limbs on my right side against the packed snow, in tandem, providing strong vertical thrust at the apex of my roll.

Between the control surfaces on my tail, and at the edges of my wings, I managed to muster enough roll authority to prolong my spin, bringing me over the top of Siidran's head, and down on a surprise attack vector against Linnea's side.

As I completed my maneuver, Neyla took the opportunity to spin away from her opponent, allowing her to lash out against the King's back as he worked to bring his own weapon around to track my movements.

The abrupt change of opponents left the elder Gryphons off balance. The sudden shift was compounded by the change in weapons, and styles they were suddenly facing.

Where Siidran had expected a defensive move from a weapon similar to his own, wielded by an opponent using unconventional tactics, he faced a direct attack from dual short swords, in the claws of a much more experienced, lighter, but more conventional enemy.

The reverse was true for Linnea. Having only just become accustomed to Neyla's peculiar weapons, the Queen suddenly found herself facing a far more familiar blade in my claws, but wholly unorthodox, nigh inscrutable tactics, from a heavier and larger opponent.

For a few precious split seconds I found myself in a position of relative power and advantage. I pressed that momentary edge for all it was worth.

Chaining together a series of impossibly fast spiral movements in my wings, and my sword, I forced my new opponent to steadily compound a series of otherwise insignificant mistakes and retreats in her defensive parries.

Many other Gryphons, even highly experienced ones, would have lost the fight at that point, failing to notice the perfect hole they had unwittingly opened in their protective cordon.

Linnea was so experienced, and battle-tested, that her intuition was able to fill in for her lack of direct contact with my unique tactics. An almost supernatural feat of defensive power.

Some underlying set of Gryphic internal brain mechanisms, almost more mystical than scientific, and honed well beyond those of most living things, told Linnea that she had placed herself in danger. Her reaction was swift, and unreserved.

The Queen flipped backwards abruptly over her own center of mass, righting herself in a fresh defensive stance. A brief pause ensued, and the monarch raised one eyebrow.

"Exceedingly clever. But that was hardly a fair move."

I shrugged, and inclined my head, allowing a hint of levity to creep into my voice.

"Well, your son taught me that if you find yourself in a fair fight? You've erred somehow. I wouldn't be a good fighter if I didn't learn that lesson well, and pass it on in turn."

Linnea's beak took on a tiny, but definitive smirk, matched by the tone of her response.

"He is a good teacher. But seeing as I first taught him, and I've been at this a little longer than the two of you combined... I feel that perhaps things are more unfair in my favor, than in yours."

With a sigh, I inclined my head slightly as I began to side-step in a slow, wide arc. From the corner of my left eye, I watched Neyla as she squared off against Siidran, performing a series of similar testing maneuvers.

Re-fixing my attention back on my slightly smaller, but incredibly dangerous opponent, I aired my thoughts.

"I know. But if you ask me, you learn more from defeat than from victory. Bruises are fair-trade currency for experience after all. Neyla taught me that quite eloquently. Besides, I didn't agree to this initially. She did. So when it all goes wrong, I can at least say it wasn't *I* who erred."

Linnea's smile widened as she sprang for the initiative, flaring her wings and spinning inward on her central axis to rake my backplate with her sword-tip. The damage was superficial, but a great deal of kinetic force was transferred nonetheless, forcing me to leap sideways to keep a semblance of balance.

The moment of distraction cost me dearly. Linnea pressed her attack viciously, exploiting her marginally slimmer form to eke out an edge. Though it was only on the order of a millisecond, or two, the advantage was comparatively large for such a high speed engagement.

I knew that within half a second, my entire defensive line would crumble like dust in a stiff breeze. I took a clawfull of picoseconds to devote part of my mind to selecting a new defensive option, and swiftly settled on a nimble combination of smaller blades.

The last thing any Gryphon raised on traditional tactics would expect, would be for a warrior to discard his primary weapon mid-fight. So I did precisely that.

As my sword spun away to the side, burying itself hilt-deep in the snow at the center of the arena, I raised my wing guards to block Linnea's strikes. A series of nearly invisible flicks to the musculature of the limbs caused the hidden internal catches to release.

Short, curved, thick, wickedly sharp blade clusters erupted from the leading edges of the joint-guards, like the spines of some ancient wyrm, thirsty for blood. In the same smooth motion, I raised my fore claws to grasp at the hidden dirks, yanking them from their sheaths and flicking my wrists inward sharply.

As the knives came free of their secret holders, the motion of my wrists released another set of killing-spines on the outer edges of the foreleg gauntlets.

Though the switch to small, high-speed weapons drastically reduced the average effectiveness of my defense against a large sword, it immensely increased the effectiveness of my blitz offense.

I was not especially experienced with small blades as a prolonged combat weapon. My main experience with them was from the Human perspective. As weapons of assasination. But Neyla had made progress in educating me with regards to the basics, all credit to her.

Combined with the stunning shift in the balance of the skirmish, it was more than enough to give me a wide-open opportunity.

Engaging the queen's sword with my wing-blades, I rolled in underneath her standing range of movement, rising into a crouch and lashing out with the left dirk, and the right gauntlet.

The improvised maneuver allowed me to slam into Linnea's right shoulder guard with enough force to knock it clean off its strap. Like most old-style Gryphon armor, the hidden joints between the plating and the securing mechanism were a serious weak point.

My armor, and most manufactured since my arrival, afforded for added deflection plates at critical structural joinings, and triple-redundant heavy riveting, per my own specifications.

Linnea's armor, however, was well over a century old, and had not received much in the way of retrofits recently.

The shock of the blow allowed me more than enough time to lock my gaze on Neyla. The blue and tan Gryphoness was doing slightly better for herself. Though the King outmatched her, his lead was measurably smaller as a result of Neyla's own depth of experience.

Another moment of unspoken communication passed between us. I had given up on trying to demystify how the process worked years previous, and simply took advantage of its functional presence.

A one-hundredth of a second beat passed, and we younger Gryphons once again used the unexpected change in balance to our advantage.

As I flipped into a backwards roll over my own center of mass, Neyla leaned over sharply, and launched herself under me in reverse. As we passed each other in mid-air, we swiftly exchanged weapons in a glittering display of eye-claw coordination; The four blades tumbled end over end, with barely a centimeter of clearance between them in some places, each coming to rest in an open claw.

The completion of the maneuver left us standing back to back; Wings outstretched to form a defensive canopy over our heads, short blades ready to crush any possible line of attack with a speed and agility that larger swords could never hope to match.

An uncomfortably long pause ensued as both monarchs circled us, considering their options. The silence in the clearing was an audible din in and of itself, born of a taut suspense that seemed to have a living electric thrum to it.

My mind began to run through potential scenarios. The action was almost a reflex during lulls in the flow of battle.

A common theme swiftly began to develop in each simulation. To avoid creating more risk than necessary, the King and Queen would likely focus their efforts on a single target. The sudden rush would quickly overwhelm the defender, allowing one monarch to switch taskings and hold off the other target, while the first fell to the momentum of the initial assault.

The two elder Gryphons could then once more double their focus, wiping out the remaining defender without contest.

I knew that our only chance for victory, however slim, lay in concocting an entirely unpredictable scenario. A plan of attack that neither monarch could feasibly anticipate, in spite of their tremendous experience.

I allowed my gaze a brief moment to sweep across the crowd. Eager faces, both young and old, were fixed on we four combatants, focused sharply so as not to miss a single stroke.

A familiar pair of golden orbs locked with mine, and I fought back a reflexive half-smile. Alyra stood in the midst of her classmates, all of whom had doubtless been rushed to the ring the moment their teachers heard of the fight, in hopes that they would learn by watching.

The fledgling's eyes burned with admiration, and hope. The moment was striking, and for a brief tenth of a second, I found myself mired in emotions, unable to focus clearly.

As I forced my way back to a cold, clear state of concentration, the answer at last presented itself with an almost painful certainty in its simplicity.

It came in the form of a question.

'If this were real, and your daughter's life was on the line... Would you even so much as hesitate to die for her?'

I knew that the Siidran and Linnea were treating the whole exchange as a form of game. An entertainment, and a learning experience. But if it were a true test of lethal combat, and lives were at stake, then no Gryphon would flinch at sacrificing themselves to achieve victory, if left with no other options.

A brief glance passed between Neyla and I once more, and somehow the Gryphoness seemed to instantly intuit my proposed plan of attack yet again. It was only just shy of telepathy.

The stratagem relied on speed, coordination, unpredictability, and the sharp disparity between myself and Neyla in terms of skill.

It was just brazen, and foolish enough, to warrant a try.

I made the first move. In my estimation, it was far better to control as many variables as possible. Not only would a direct attack on my part come as a shock, given that my defensive position was far better than my offensive one, but it would let me decide the target.

My line of assault left me directly exposed to Siidran from the rear, and left side. It was patently suicidal. All of my energy was focused on Linnea, whom I had no chance of defeating regardless, leaving me no resources to defend with on the flank.

The combination of a direct assault on his mate, together with a perfect opening, all delivered with such surprising speed, tripped a reflexive response somewhere deep in Siidran's primal warrior spirit.

The King committed himself without so much as a single picosecond to think about his alternatives. The rest fell into place so swiftly that I struggled to keep pace with the flow of action and reaction, in spite of my concentration.

In less than a full second, it was over.

I found myself flat on my back, wings pinned under me, with Siidran's sword laid firmly across my throat.

Several seconds of stunned silence passed, before the King stepped back and stretched out one claw, smiling slightly.

"You made an excellent account of yourself, but your impatience put a premature end to a well-conceived defense I'm afraid. Your loss."

With a smirk, I spread out my wings lazily into the snow, clasping my claws behind his head and sprawling out into a relaxed pose as I spoke. The icy touch of the flakes on my feathers helped to relieve the pain of the bruises Siidran had gleefully inflicted.

"Who said anything about impatience? For that matter... Who says we lost?"

I watched carefully as a brief moment of confusion spread across the monarch's beak, followed by astonished dawning comprehension. Siidran winced as Neyla laid my dirk blades gently against the back of his neck, signifying her kill.

In his haste to defend his mate, the King had merely assumed Linnea would hold off Neyla as he dealt with me in turn.

Yet, in defiance of the logic of the game, but in adherence to the logic of a true battle, and the bond we shared, Neyla had backed my ridiculous play right to the hilt.

She had exploited Linnea's singular moment of focus on me to gain an inescapable advantage.

While Siidran had wasted precious time finishing me off, Neyla had efficiently and viciously taken Linnea out of play, leaving her free to alpha-strike Siidran from behind, at a time when he assumed himself unassailable.

Once more, tension and silence gripped all in attendance. A few muted gasps circled the spectators, and many beaks hung open in abject shock.

I knew full well that Siidran and Linnea had lost only a clawfull of duels in the last century.

In spite of Neyla's considerable skill, and she was far above average for even our martial species... Even paired with an equal, her chances would have been considered to be low.

Siidran smiled wanly, and bowed his head, sheathing his sword in a gesture of acceptance. Linnea rose from her defeated position on the opposite side of the ring, and came to stand beside her husband, shaking off great clumps of snow from her wings as she went.

The King again bent to help me to my feet, and I accepted the offer with a smile. The monarch spoke in a low, almost reverential tone as I mimicked Linnea's earlier gesture, shaking snow and ice from my wings, before it could begin to seep past the water resistant oils of the feathers.

"That was truly inspired. There will come a day when you and she will easily outmatch Linnea and I, without ruse or deception. Of that, I have no doubt. You two have a rare and precious bond, and a highly complementary set of skills."

Words of embarrassed protest began to form in my throat, but they were cut off abruptly as Linnea unexpectedly pressed my sword into my open right claw. The Queen then moved to retrieve Neyla's blades, proffering them to the Gryphoness with a proud smile.

As Neyla accepted the weapons, the Queen clasped the younger Gryphoness' claws in her own, raising them high into the air. I found my own sword-claw firmly locked in Siidran's, and elevated into a similar gesture.

Thunderous applause circled the spectators, matched only by Siidran's booming voice.

"Warriors! I present to you this year's Royal Paladins! May the legends of their exploits grow to eclipse all who have gone before!"

I suddenly had to actively work to prevent myself from falling break-first into the snow. I could only stammer ineffectually as cheers and keening calls of celebration washed over us in a deafening chorus.

By the time cogent words came at last, Varan, Kephic, and Sildinar were all clustered around Neyla and I, smiling widely and gripping us by the shoulders.

At last, speech escaped my beak, mirroring the tumble-dryer of panicked, elated, confused emotions tearing through my feathered breast.

"Why?! Why us? There are many who are *far* more qualified and deserving..."

Siidran shook his head, and gestured for me to kneel. Linnea and Varan moved to flank Neyla as she likewise knelt, while Kephic and Sildinar took up station on either side of me.

Paladins were the highest ranked warriors in the Gryphon Kingdoms. Most had to be elected to their position by a council of Paladins in their region. Every year, however, the King and Queen would choose between one and ten Royal Paladins, by executive privilege.

Though they would start at the lowest order like all Paladin initiates, Royal Paladins were always given faster advancement, more responsibility, and more autonomy.

As young Knights moved through the crowd, bearing several tightly wrapped bundles, Siidran took a moment to respond to me directly, in a tone too low for the audience to perceive over the noise of their own cheering.

"More qualified? Perhaps on parchment, with regards to pure skills in a bout, but that counts for little compared to creativity, and tenacity. Deserving? *None* are ever truly deserving of anything in life. Not even myself. Such honors, like all things, are a true gift to all who receive them. Bear the honor as such."

The Knights arrived in the arena, passing a bundle each to Varan, Kephic, and Siidran. Kephic removed the item from his bundle, and I recognized it as my formal sash. The long strip of fabric was the Gryphic version of a dress uniform when we wore it over full armor.

It generally bore awards, a clan emblem where appropriate, and a rank emblem if applicable. Varan likewise removed Neyla's sash from his bundle, and both myself and Neyla soon found ourselves draped in formal garb.

Neyla's sash, as always, conspicuously lacked a clan emblem, instead bearing the Sentinel's sigil. The mark of a wandering warrior.

Both of us knelt with our claws clasped over the hilts of our blades, which were buried tip down in the snow.

The King moved to stand before me, and smiled, again elevating the tone and volume of his voice to commanding levels as he removed a series of objects from his bundle.

"Fyrenn, of clan Kh'yn'eos, you have made a good account of yourself both in battle, and in life beyond the bloodied fields. Though young, you are well decorated, and you have proven that you are well suited to responsibilities and tasks beyond those of a Knight."

Siidran fixed a fist-sized silver emblem to my sash, then gestured for me to extend my right wing. The King continued speaking as he affixed a larger, but otherwise identical badge to the outside of my wing-guard.

"I am honored to bestow unto you the rank of Paladin, given your record of accomplishments, and given that your brothers, and my son, have also spoken to me on your behalf to vouch for you. Will you pledge to serve your King, Clan, Kin, Kind, and God with all your heart, soul, and strength? In life, and in death, wherever the winds of providence may carry you?"

In a dze, I dipped my head, and injected enough volume into the response to ensure it would be heard by all.

"I will."

Siidran smiled, and brought the point of his sword to rest first on my left wing joint, then on the right, before speaking once more.

"Rise, Paladin."

The monarch moved to stand beside Neyla, taking Linnea's place as the Queen in turn moved to stand before the younger Gryphoness.

Linnea repeated Siidran's actions, affixing the badges of rank to Neyla's sash and wing-guard, before reciting similar words to Siidran's.

"I am honored to bestow unto you the rank of Paladin, given your record of accomplishments, and given that your friends Kephic and Varan, as well as my son, have also spoken to me on your behalf to vouch for you. Will you pledge to serve your Queen, Clan, Kin, Kind, and God with all your heart, soul, and strength? In life, and in death, wherever the winds of providence may carry you?"

Neyla likewise dipped her head, and did her best to maintain an even tone, and volume, in spite of her clear shock.

"I will."

Sentinels were extremely uncommon amongst the Paladins. Given that Sentinels were rarely interested in spending long periods inside a command structure, they were usually passed over in consideration by Paladin Councils.

A sentinel paladin was, in closest equitable Human terms, a Brigadier General who commanded no troops, but only reported to the Council, with all the equipment, training, and experience of a special forces Marine, and all the privileges and rights of flag rank.

I don't think Human military structures could even begin to cope with the idea.

Linnea smiled, and touched the tip of her sword to each of Neyla's wing joints in turn.

"Rise, Paladin."

As Neyla rose to stand beside me, the crowd went wild once again. I leaned over to whisper in Neyla's ear as my daughter came bounding into the circle.

"You and your big loud beak got us into this. Just remember that."

She smirked, and elbowed me sharply as I bent to scoop my daughter up onto my shoulders between my wings. I grit my beak and smiled as Neyla whispered back.

"Now *that* you deserved."

She was right, and I knew it.

She was always right.

And though I struggled mightily to admit it to myself outright, I loved her for that, among many, many other things.

Predictably, breakfast had turned from a quiet, routine affair, into a raucous and extended celebration on behalf of myself and Neyla. Gryphons appreciated any, end every excuse to celebrate over food and drink. Never debauched or overly raucous, our species nevertheless has an unquenchable celebratory fire in our bones.

I didn't so much mind the noise, the music, and the general atmosphere of joy and circumstance; what bothered me was being the center of attention. I've always hated large displays of recognition. Quiet modesty suits my taste much better.

I much preferred to be 'just another guest,' as opposed to being the reason for the party. I knew that if I allowed myself to enjoy the accolades, they would swiftly go to my head, and that was an outcome I wished to avoid at all costs.

It had taken almost three hours, but eventually the festivity had reached a stage where I could excuse myself without committing a social gaffe, or attracting too much notice.

When I wanted quiet in which to meditate, and a puzzle to occupy my thoughts, I always preferred Tih’ré'Seli’hn's library above all other contenders; Vast vaulted chambers, stacked floor upon floor, and running for hundreds of contiguous yards into the very deepest parts of the mountain.

The great storehouse of knowledge was the world's only real competitor to the Canterlot Royal Archives, for the title of 'World's largest conventional library.'

The Capital's library was home to many manuscripts which could be found nowhere else in Equestria. More recently, vast reams of Human books and documents had begun to take their place in the collection as well, under the impetus of the Human Archive Project.

Everything from soldiers' personal recountings of World War I, to chemical formulae for space shuttle thermal tiles, right on down to the technical specifications for modern naval railgun emplacements.

Millennia of Humanity's thoughts, musings, observations, and lessons on war and technology; All rejected by Equestria's more passive, or less organized and forward thinking denizens.

Sometimes it made me shudder, to think how much of an added advantage it would one day give our people in warfare. Bows and spears were unlikely to present much of a defense against mortars, fuel-air bombs, and heavy railguns.

In more recent months, my musings had instead been occupied with an enigma of special importance. A good friend had graciously agreed to lend the artifact, massive though it was, to the library's special projects collection.

A formal gesture of friendship to the Kingdoms, from the most unexpected of sources.

The object now lay in its own specially designed chamber, carefully crafted to keep it functional so I, and others, could plumb its depths for the answers that we so desperately sought.

On its own, the device appeared to be little more than a chunk of curved wall and ceiling, shaped from blue and green crystal not dissimilar to polished quartz. When properly illuminated, however, the artifact developed a wondrous and entrancing power.

Humans would have referred to it as some sort of isomorphic holographic projection. I didn't think the term did it justice. As one approached the crystalline structure, images would appear; Seemingly projected from within the artifact's latticework, out into three dimensional space.

Impressively, the images would shift, and change, based on the viewer's position relative to the latticework of the gem. Walking laterally, perpendicular to the wall, the images would move longitudinally like a timeline.

If one were to instead walk towards the wall, the projections would expand, as if the viewer had zoomed in on a specific event or object.

According to the donor, Changelings used the structures as both backups to the Hive's internal memory, and as indexing anchors to aid in the retrieval of memories.

Unfortunately for me, the memories which this special chunk of wall indexed were locked away somewhere deep within the Hive. Completely inaccessible to the burgeoning rebellion of re-perfected Changelings, severed as they were from the main network.

All I had to go on were the images contained in the wall, the words of my prophecy, and the hazy but firm sense that the aforementioned images were somehow familiar.

Like something out of a dream.

According to the library's historians, the images dated back to a time older than even the oldest manuscripts contained in the collection. The only potentially contemporary documents, indeed the only relevant artifacts to have survived the wars of chaos, would doubtless be scattered across various unmarked crypts, and the bottom-most layers of Dragon hordes.

Essentially lost, and therefore useless for my purposes.

I sighed deeply, working my claws around my tankard to spread the warmth of the mead through the stone vessel, and into the sore muscles. I mumbled softly to myself as I stepped up to the wall, honing in on a maddeningly familiar, yet distant image.

A golden male Gryphon, clad in some ancient type of armor, and wielding a great two-clawed sword. A distinct iridescent blue mark sweeping across his beak and the sides of his head.

In the months since I'd first beheld the projection, I had finally managed to put a name to the face. One small, but maddening riddle solved.

Seldar.

Unfortunately, the revelation had generated nothing but further confusion.

As a term, or a name, Seldar only ever appeared in manuscripts as an old-Gryphic honor-title, literally translated as 'High King.'

Though occasionally used as part of various ceremonies, in reference to the sitting High King, the term had otherwise fallen out of use when common tongue had taken over as the predominant spoken language.

My personal theory was that the Gryphon in the projection was one of our kind's first High Kings, and that we had therefore, for some reason, come to associate the term with the face.

The archivists had admitted that the dating would work out, according to some of the more obscure models for determining the year of the Kingdoms' formation.

The discontinuity in my mind was maddening. Every other moment since Conversion stood out with the perfect clarity of the Gryphic eidetic memory. I could even go back and review seconds of time for information that had been stored, but not assimilated, on the first pass. But the memory of Seldar, and the circumstances in which he had delivered my prophecy to me, remained painfully beyond reach.

I murmured absently as I brushed one claw up against the crystal. The contact sent tiny ripples through the projection, as the vibration of touch propagated through the latticework.

"Who are you, and what were you trying to tell me?"

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps you aren't meant to know, until the critical moment?"

I had to violently suppress both the urge to jump, and to let out a warning hiss at the newcomer. Of all the members of my family, and circle of friends, only Neyla, and Linnea, had exhibited the consistent ability to approach with total, absolute, supernatural silence.

Turning, I bowed my head out of respect. Linnea speared me with a disapproving mock-scowl as if to say 'don't be so formal,' and I grinned sheepishly in response, turning back to the projection as I feverishly pieced together a response.

"I sincerely hope not. Patience is not one of my defining qualities, and I don't like to play my hand until I know what's in the deck."

The Queen cocked her head to the side as she moved beside me, raising an eyebrow, and her tone, as she sat back on her haunches.

"Wouldn't that be cheating in most forms of card game?"

With a smirk, I sat back on my own rear legs, taking a long sip from the tankard before nodding soberly.

"Exactly. It's worked out pretty well for me so far... You don't win against stacked odds by playing to the rulebook. A true life and death struggle has nothing to do with fighting fair, and everything to do with winning. Cost is irrelevant. Rules are irrelevant. Limitations, beyond basic morals, do not exist. Morals themselves are simplified. Good warriors learn this, and live. The rest perish young."

Linnea's expression fell, and she extended her left wing to brush the side of my head lightly, speaking in an equally soft tone. The gesture was not without precedent; The Queen was the best mother-figure I had left in my life, and she had been the primary driving force behind nurturing that state of affairs, in spite of what she often referred to as 'my closed-off nature.'

"Spoken as one who has taken only his defeats to heart. I see you still struggle with faith in some respects."

I was forced to dipped my head in assent, and I sighed deeply, taking time to gather my thoughts before responding.

"I'm... Apprehensive. My intuition and instincts tell me that many struggles are yet to come before my prophecy is fulfilled. Intellectually? I know that I can't rely on my own mortal adequacy to carry me through. Intellectually, I know where my trust lies. Emotionally?"

A sigh escaped my beak once more, and I shook my head as I tried, and failed, to find more words. Linnea allowed a moment of silence to pass, before finishing the thought herself.

"Emotionally, you are burdened. Because you are young, but much responsibility rests with you. You are still learning to trust Divine Providence, and release your grip on the illusion of control over events."

Inhaling deeply, then nodding, my tone became one of begrudging acquiescence and agreement as I next exhaled. She always knew me better than I knew myself. Better than anyone had since my Grandmother had passed, even counting my brothers. Possibly with the exception of Neyla.

"Yeeeeessss. That sums it up pretty well."

Linnea smirked slightly, and reached up with one claw to straighten the lone blue feather in my crest.

"Is that why you have tarried long past the point of sanity, and good judgement, insofar as this goes?"

Again I nodded slowly, and a near-silent hiss of frustration escaped through my beak before my response followed.

"Neyla doesn't know... But I was almost prepared to say yes earlier in the year..."

Linnea leaned forward, and her eyes widened. She prodded my side in agitation with one wing, throwing in a verbal goad for good measure.

"And?"

I scratched absently at the back of my head, and took another sip of mead before continuing.

"And then I started having... I'm not sure. Dreams? Nightmares? Visions? They don't seem like the mere disconnected imagery of a somnolent mind. They're more... Of that I'm convinced. Speaking as someone who has had his share of spiritual, magical, and supernatural experiences."

The Queen didn't even need to speak in order to make her desire to know more apparent. Like all mothers, she had the ability to deliver an imperative, at once ironclad in certainty, but soft as velvet, with a simple glance. I was powerless to disobey.

My exhalation was a combination of submission, frustration, and exhaustion, and I winced slightly as the gesture aggravated several of my bruised ribs. I allowed several more moments of silence to pass, before settling on a choice of words.

"Sometimes, I see her. Sonya I mean. She never speaks, but she's always staring. I can't tell why, or what she's feeling... What feelings she's directing *at* me... But it's crushing. It brings back so much guilt..."

I held up a peremptory claw as Linnea took in a sharp breath, in preparation to deliver an even sharper rebuke, and kept speaking.

"I know. I know it's not *valid* guilt, but it's difficult to shake nonetheless. And it isn't helped by the other."

Linnea's gaze hardened, and her eyes narrowed as she picked up on a new note in my voice.

"The other?"

Nodding, I exhaled slowly once more before continuing.

"I don't know what else to call her. She went by Veritas when I first met her. I didn't realize it was her at first... She first appeared to me in dreams almost a year ago... She always took the faces of others... People I knew in the present... But I eventually began to realize who it was. Most often now though? She appears as Neyla."

The Queen's visage went from troubled, and suspicious, to at once both angered, and empathetic. I knew that the former emotion was directed at the source of our mutual vexation, and the latter at me.

I shrugged my wings, and stared back into the projection, eyes unfocusing and tone falling into a lower register of resigned exhaustion as I allowed the weight of revelation to lift from my shoulders.

I hadn't told anyone about Veritas' presence in my sleeping mind until that moment.

"I know our kind is immune to direct tampering with our minds... But I think it's still some sort of intentional interaction, indirect though it is. Like what we experienced when we first encountered the Wisps. She isn't really there in my mind, she can't shape my thoughts or perceptions actively... She can't see my thoughts... But she's reflecting my own fears and insecurities back at me with greater intensity, and they manifest as her, cloaked in another's skin, because of the way she does it."

Linnea draped her left wing over my back and pulled my head into the crook of her neck, thrumming softly in her chest as she spoke. I didn't resist in the slightest. Gryphons are not shut about physical affection of any kind. Romantic, jovial, familial, or friendly.

In this case, maternal comfort was the best balm my soul could ever hope for. I had to choke back a small sob, thinking on how long I had gone without it.

"I'm sorry. I know you've struggled mightily with what happened to Gilchrist, and the part you played in that. It seems as though this... Creature... Would very much like to go on exploiting that trauma to damage you further..."

The Queen pulled back, and gripped me firmly by me shoulders, piercing deep into my soul with her gaze and tinging her next words with a firm note of steel.

"...So all the more reason for you to fight back. You are a young Gryphon of action, even by our standards... So *act.*"

I grinned sadly, and shook my head.

"Oh I wish it were that simple. Sometimes I don't think the Human parts of me were worth bringing along. They bring just as many issues as advantages."

Sitting back, I continued shaking my head, looking down and to the side in shame. A familiar shame, like picking at the edges of an old scar absently, feeling the pain on purpose just for the sake of familiarity.

"Look at me... I exterminated an entire faction of the Terran government... I did nearly irreparable damage to the whole political system... Because I was afraid. And angry. I'm not responsible enough to be a father... Not patient enough to be a Royal Paladin... Certainly not wise enough to be a spouse... And---"

My sentence ended sharply, and I winced, as Linnea's claw made brief, but solid, sharp contact with the top of my head. I had to blink several times, and snorted reflexively in surprise, and slight amusement as the Queen spoke in a sharp, motherly tone.

"Fyrenn, you are a terror and a wonder on the battlefield out there... But in there?"

Linnea tapped my forehead lightly with one index talon as she continued.

"In there? In the battlefield of the mind? You have *much* to learn. And you need to do a better job of shielding, and guiding, your thoughts."

The Queen rose, and made her way to the door of the small chamber, her tail swishing back and forth with charged emotion. She glanced back over her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.

"That starts with Neyla, and your Iin'shaar... Your 'promise of consideration.' You cannot live in an eternal state of indecision. So you will either decide before the year is out, or I will step in and annul the Iin'shaar myself. Procrastination does not become you."

I sat for several moments in silence, dumfounded, blinking and stammering, before finally finishing my mead, and working up the mental constitution to rise, and depart.

"Ya know, new and improved gel layers are one thing..."

"...But this beast is somethin' entirely different."

I snorted, and shook my head as I ducked to avoid a low hanging steam pipe. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never managed to get used to the twins' way of finishing each other's sentences.

Sareth and Soreth were an extremely rare occurrence of Gryphic identical twins. Couples rarely had two eggs at once, and more rarely still did those two eggs result in twins. But it did sometimes happen, and the bond the siblings shared was, in my estimation, even stronger and more measurable than that of Human twins.

Sareth and Soreth were burly, muscular, deep blue and black Gryphons who served as the chief armorers and forgemasters of Tih’ré Seli’hn. I had met them early on in my time as a Gryphon; the pair had been responsible for setting me up with my armor.

In the years since, I'd cultivated a keen friendship with the jovial twins, fueled by our shared love of, even obsession with, the engineering disciplines of warfare. Though it wasn't yet entirely formal, my primary vocation and work within the city consisted of military engineering.

I was forced to duck once more to avoid a relief valve, and I found myself stretching reflexively as I exited the tiny access corridor and stepped out onto a steel and wooden gantry-way overlooking an immense gash in the earth.

At one time, the canyon had been used mostly for target practice, and as a secondary exit from the city-castle. Since the start of our latest project, it had instead been converted into the largest construction pit ever conceived of by Gryphon engineers.

Sareth and Soreth squeezed out of the accessway, and took up flanking positions beside me, finishing their earlier thought in tandem.

"Half tha' systems in this thing have never existed in this world before..."

"...And tha other half 're all ten times bigger than anyone has ever made them before..."

"...And you're one o' only twenty of our converts who understands some o' the finer points 'f the boiler thermodynamics..."

"...And ya want the project finished ahead 've schedule? Paladin or no, tha's a large ask."

Nodding, I inclined my head, smiling as I stared down at the dimly illuminated shape below. Sparks from rudimentary welding devices occasionally provided a burst of added light.

"My latest numbers say that we're in good shape. And my gut says that we'll need this finished before the end of the month. War is coming, one way or the other... And we have to marshal every advantage we can scrounge."

Sareth nodded, and made an amusing raspberry-like sound with his tongue and beak.

"Well, 'advantage' is one way o' callin' it."

Soreth shook his head, and snorted.

"I still can't believe tha' this is the smaller of your designs. If'n the King wants the bigger ones mass produced...?"

Sareth interjected to finish the thought smoothly.

"...We'll hav' ta train most of our smiths and engineers in whole new disciplines, full-time."

I raised an eyebrow, and smiled once more.

"Speaking of mass produced designs... How are we doing with our thunderblades?"

Soreth grinned wickedly, an expression that I knew meant we were in for a treat. He jerked his head back towards the access tunnel.

"Right this way mah friend."

We walked in relative silence for nearly two full minutes, following the cut stone tube back into the heart of the mountain, until it opened up into the city's forges.

The facility had changed a great deal since my first visit, and mostly as a result of my own direct intervention. The core structure and traditional implements remained, but entire new wings had been cut into the rock, and filled with a bevy of machines and instruments based on my own adaptations of Human designs, and supplemented with the know-how of every new convert that had any even remotely applicable skills.

The space was alive not only with the organic rhythms of master sword-smiths and armorers working with claw-tools, but also with the mechanical tattoo of great assembly and cutting machines.

To my knowledge, the devices represented the first ever instances in Equestria of assembly lines, automated machine aided fabrication, and interchangeable parts, as part of the production process.

I'd've felt guilty for introducing such potentially devastating advancements, had I not been utterly convinced that our ingrained moral programming would prevent their use for anything but the right causes.

Everyone was going to get their collective claws, paws, and hooves on Human technical advancement at some point. That seemed inevitable. Ensuring we were first felt like the best defense.

The twins led the way into one of the side annexes, gesturing gleefully to a series of wood and steel objects laid out in softly glittering rows on a stone table.

Soreth spoke first as I stepped up to the shining collection of weapons.

"Tha first finalized production batch came out o' the lines this mornin'. Two hundred 'n fifty o' these finished in jus four days..."

Sareth finished the thought appreciatively as I reverently lifted one of the new weapons from the end of the row.

"...And we'll have one o' these for every able-bodied male and female in tha province, older than age ten, by tha end of tha month. This would never 'a been possible before you came along."

I couldn't help myself. I grinned widely, and cycled the weapon's breech, before flipping over the hardened oaken stock and examining the trigger mechanism, then the two viciously curved blades.

I'd handled several prototypes before, some of which I had fashioned from scratch with my own claws. But none had been quite so well weighted, nor durable. All my past attempts had been simple mockups.

The thunderblade in my claws was a finished weapon. All of its parts were fully interchangeable with any of its two hundred and forty nine new twins, and all machined to within mathematically specified manufacturing tolerances, as opposed to unique individual design characteristics.

It weighed a solid seventy pounds, unloaded, and that pleased me immensely. It meant the weapon would have the slashing and smashing characteristics of a war axe. Impossible to deflect, or defend against, with anything but Gryphic armor or Draconic scales.

The weapon's moving parts and barrel were comprised of simple steel, since the basic materials were cheap and abundant as compared to our finer alloys. The exception was the munition magazine, which was iron and wood, for maximum disposability at minimum cost.

The blades were full-on Gryphic alloy, given that they would take far more stress than the rest of the components, and could not be removed or replaced without reforging the core of the entire weapon.

I strode purposefully to the end of the table, where a series of small wooden and leathern containers lay in a row. Flicking one open with a talon, I gingerly extracted eight of the shining objects within, one by one slotting each into a space on the weapon's magazine as I walked back across the corridor, and into a room lined with straw test dummies against the far wall.

Snapping the breech closed with a satisfying click, I flipped the cocking mechanism back with one thumb talon, raising the weapon to my shoulder like a rifle.

Without prelude or warning, I methodically depressed the weapon's hefty trigger, eight times in sequence, discharging eight rounds mercilessly through the semi-automatic action, down the barrel, and into the farthest straw figure. A hulking mass made up roughly to resemble a Diamond Dog Troll, and clad in a similar approximation of their heavy armor.

Each of the eight rounds found their mark easily, passing effortlessly through all three inches of iron, and the inch of backing leather, before burying themselves deep in the dummy's head, neck, and chest.

After expending the eighth, and last round, I pivoted the thunderblade downwards, the main mass of the weapon spinning gracefully and smoothly about its central cylindrical claw-grip with a smoothness born of exceptionally well made ball bearings. I spun the weapon like a cross between a short halberd and a medium axe, slicing mercilessly through the next nearest mannequins, until nothing remained of them larger than a few wisps of straw and cloth.

Stepping back into a more relaxed pose, I ejected the eight-round drum from the hybrid gunblade, spent casings and all. Soreth and Sareth whistled in perfect harmony.

I smirked, and passed the unloaded, open weapon to Soreth, voicing heartfelt approval as I strode to the end of the range, and extracted a round from one of the dummies.

The quarter-pound, fifty caliber tungsten-steel alloy slug had survived mostly intact, as the iron armor had done nothing whatsoever to impede it, and the straw had slowed it gently to a stop. My eyes could make out the micrometer thin grooves left by the thunderblade's rifling in the sides of the round.

"My friends, you've outdone yourselves. Who says you can't have quality *and* quantity?"

Soreth shrugged, and snorted.

"Ach, dunno. But whoever they are...

Sareth nodded and grinned.

"...They never met a Gryphon. 'Specially not you."

I nodded, and glanced over my shoulder at the other two hundred and forty nine thunderblades.

"Well... If they ever do, they'll never *ever* forget the experience. So before I go, let's talk about those mortar drawings we were musing over last weekend..."

Alyra

"...Some folks inherit star spangled eyes! Whoo they send you down to war..."

The twang of the record mixed softly with the pop and sizzle of cooking beef strips, and the low thrum in Dad's throat as he hummed along to the lyrics.

The vinyl disc had been a gift from Neyla almost a year prior, and Dad still thought of it as one of his most valuable possessions. I could see it in the way he handled it. Like it was made of fine china.

Fourteen of his most favorite songs from the pages of Earth's musical past, transcribed from digital to the Equestrian version of analog, on premium Equestrian Vinyl.

The mixture was pretty eclectic. A few instrumental pieces interspersed with Classic Rock, Hymns, Jazz, and even the occasional 'Pop Song.'

It had become an evening ritual for us to spin up the record on a small Pony-made phonograph on the desk corner, and cook dinner to the accompaniment of Humanity's great musicians.

I'd never had much time for music before, but I found that my tastes and his aligned pretty well. No idea if that was because he was the first, and strongest influence on my deeper explorations of music on the whole. I didn't care. I just loved having another shared thing to enjoy.

Dad glanced up from the meat spits, as a sharp knock sounded at the chamber door. I had some idea who it would be, and I bounded across the room before he could react any further, chiming out in a sing-song voice.

"I'll get it!"

Fyrenn knew as well as I did that it would likely be either Neyla, or Kephic and Varan.

Every so often, the whole family would congregate for dinner at one of our homes, and it was Dad's turn to be host. Usually one or more of the party ended up being late because of their particular responsibilities or schedules.

The door swung open to reveal, a little surprisingly, all three of our expected guests. Dad smiled, and beckoned.

"Well timed! I think this batch is just about finished."

Kephic grinned widely and scooped me up onto his back, chuckling as I batted at the tip of his left ear. I could never resist that deep inner feline instinct.

Varan did his best to remain impassive, but I was positive I saw a strong hint of a smile on my uncle's beak.

For her part, Neyla remained firmly attached to a scowl. I could tell it was half real frustration, half a forced mask to hide her own smile.

As everyone took up seats around the hearth, Fyrenn shot a silent question to Kephic by raising one eyebrow and tilting his left ear. The speckled Gryphon snorted, wincing as I leapt back to the floor, accidentally causing my rear claws to briefly dig into his shoulders.

I tossed off a sheepish, embarrassed apologetic glance, which was met with a forgiving wink as Kephic responded to Dad's unspoken question. I'd learned pretty quick that we Gryphons could speak a whole language with our ears, wings, eyebrows -or whatever you'd call the equivalent- head crests, and tails.

I loved the game of learning the adults' more coded conversations. I was better at it than they realized, and I liked letting them think I was struggling to keep up sometimes.

"She has been like this all day since breakfast. I think she blames you for her newfound responsibilities and privileges."

Neyla exhaled sharply and nodded, stabbing a piece of meat viciously with one talon and ripping it from its skewer. She wasn't making any attempt to hide her emotions at all.

Dad blinked in confusion, and threw up his claws, nearly upending a tankard at his left elbow which Varan had been trying to silently fill for him.

"Are you saying you wanted me to lose, just so you could go on being intentionally lonely? If you get to ask me to lay aside my social fears, then surely it's time for you to lay aside your fear of full-blown military responsibility?"

I'd thought of Neyla as Mom since the beginning. The first day in the Conversion Bureau, after they had all rescued me from the hell I was trapped in.

Dad had been injured, exhausted, and about as beat down as I was by everything that had happened. Neyla was there for me when I woke up in a strange place, screaming. Crying. Sobbing after my sister.

I lost Sonya. But I gained more than a father. I got a mother, and uncles, and an aunt.

I don't know how I knew, but even before I'd seen them together, I knew Mom and Dad were meant for eachother. There was something they shared in their eyes. The way their sadness had a sharper layer of determination, and love stitched into it.

Neyla was Mom, no matter how hard a time Dad was having accepting it, and getting over his own fears. Mom and I were pretty sure we could bring him around, between us, and his brothers.

She pierced Dad with a sharp glower, and Fyrenn sighed, burying himself in his newly filled tankard.

I nestled down into a sitting position beneath his right wing, and glanced up at my father with a sly grin, whose devil-may-care nature mirrored the tone of my voice. I loved poking Dad's buttons on this, mainly because every time I did, I could see him get a little closer to acceptance. And because I enjoyed watching him try to recalibrate and deal with my unexpected experience, and elocution.

You grow up fast as a child soldier.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that logic is the wrong response to a woman's fury? Especially one you're romantically sidelining?"

Uncle Kephic burst out laughing so hard that a spray of mead flew from his beak. Neyla smirked, blushing slightly, and turning her head to the side to attempt to hide her mild embarrassment.

Varan made a short, sharp squeak down in his throat as he stifled his own mirth as best he could. Nonetheless, a smile flickered across his visage briefly as he spoke. I loved it when I could get him to laugh.

"Perhaps you should be studying under your fledgeling, rather than sending her to study under others."

Dad cast his best faux glower down at me, speaking in a sharp but audible undertone as Kephic continued to giggle silently, and uncontrollably.

"Or perhaps my dear daughter should simply learn to place a filter between the thoughts of her mind, however apropos, and the opening of her beak."

Kephic at last regained the power of speech, and fell to refilling his tankard as he fired off an irresistible retort. His sense of humor and mine were a lot alike, and we never missed a chance to collaborate on getting a rise out of Dad, Varan, or both if we could swing it.

"Well yes, she's very much *your* daughter... So I wouldn't hold your breath on that one."

At that, both Mom and Varan completely lost control, falling into twin fits of loud, uncharacteristically unrestrained mirth. Perfect triple play.

I raised one claw in a fist, and Uncle Kephic gave it a quick bump with his own fisted claw as we shared a satisfied smirk.

Dad glowered good-naturedly once more, and raised a claw as he prepared a mock scathing response. Before he could muster his words, however, a loud knock sounded at the door. The severity and urgency of the sound, coupled with its unexpected timing, abruptly put an end to the louder guffaws.

Fyrenn's brow knit as he rose, and made his way across to the portal. The soft giggles of Neyla and Varan's leftover amusement barely seemed to register with him, and I could see his heartbeat quicken.

Rarely, in our experience, was surprise news welcome at such a late hour.

To Dad's visible shock, the door opened to reveal Sildinar, standing side by side with a gray female Pegasus clad in the light, aerodynamic armor of a courier, which did little to hide her messy shock of straw-blond mane.

Though she looked exhausted from a long hard flight, and seemed to have some sort of fairly severe lazy eye, she managed a small smile, and a nod. Without further ado, the gray mail-mare passed Fyrenn a small cylindrical leather container, dipped her head once more, and made her way off down the corridor.

Dad held the scroll-case gingerly, as if it were a poisonous snake, and fixed Sildinar with a wary, questioning gaze. The roan Gryphon gestured for Dad to step into the corridor, and close the door.

Everyone else in the family looked like they had just been dunked in ice cold lake water.

I immediately knew it was going to be a long night.

Chapter 3

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

"My Friend,

When this reaches you, time will already be growing perilously short. So I beg you to consider my request in that light.

I once did you a great favor to help you become what you are. The time has come for me to call on repayment of that debt. I can discuss very little in an open missive like this, but I will tell you what is already publicly known.

For the last few months, the PER have waged a campaign of terror against our initial launch efforts, and that campaign has taken a sudden and extreme twist for the worse. A large explosive device was detonated aboard one of our vessels only hours before this letter was penned.

We believe it was intended to go off not during loading, but rather at launch, thus obliterating the ship, and its crew. We also believe that the only conceivable way such a large device could have been smuggled aboard, is through one or more sleeper agents operating within the project.

This raises the prospect of other potential undetonated devices, or similar means of sabotage.

Given the events at the start of the year, and some of the ensuing fallout that you may not yet be aware of, we can not depend on Earthgov to put a stop to this. As far as I'm concerned, that makes you and yours the only qualified operators I have to call upon.

I am aware that you could simply ignore this request, and you'd have good reason to. But I am also aware that you value Humanity's freedom, and that you value innocent lives. That you agree with the impetus of our mission, and would see it succeed, if possible.

So I'm asking for your help. Not as one ranking official to another, but as your friend in some simple, but steadfast capacity.

If you intend to come to our aid, lose no time. And bring any whose expertise you feel is necessary.

--Janet Martins"

I retraced the words, forwards and backwards, over and over, as I stared into the patterns of the fire's last embers, trying to occupy my frazzled mind as I waited for Neyla to return with her travel gear.

At some point, moments after I had shared the letter with the family, but before I had even finished removing my 'go bag' from its nook, Neyla, Varan, and Kephic had reached some sort of non-verbal agreement amongst themselves.

Neyla would be accompanying me for the entirety of the trip. My siblings would be coming halfway, and that was merely for the chance to see old friends.

I knew that on some level my brothers had elected to forego full accompaniment to make things easier for me by indulging my introversion.

Deep down, their intentions were at least partly altruistic, and even motivated partially by a desire to keep things less politically charged by minimizing the number of infamous faces in the group.

Over-top of those kinder motivations, however, was a blatantly obvious desire to force me to spend some time alone with Neyla. I suspected my daughter's claw in that.

We saw plenty of each other, every day, but never really spent any time alone together, separate from other friends, family, and the bustle of everyday life.

I'd resigned myself to the decision almost instantly. I had in no way been looking forward to taking such a plunge of my own volition, in spite of a deep desire for some closure with regard to the relationship.

I wasn't really formally dating Neyla, and I wasn't sure which would win out in the end. My intense desire to start, or even to skip the pleasantries and dive headlong into marriage...

Or my fear.

Forcing my claw was actually, in my mind, something of a favor. I suppose that was a sign of progress in and of itself. There was a time when I would have been much angrier about the idea.

Abruptly I became aware of another presence, warm in its familiarity, passing silently through the dimness of the room, lit as much by starlight and moonlight as by the remains of the hearth's fire.

Alyra planted herself firmly beside me, slumping onto her haunches, and burying her head in the soft feathers at the joint of my right wing and shoulder. My heart always melted when she did that. It was physically impossible to hold a negative emotion when I had such a deep and comforting reminder of such precious love.

In spite of the warmth of the moment, I took note of the small rucksack beside the fledgeling, but decided to remain silent for a few seconds, and simply soak in one last peaceful moment before the rigors of travel.

To my surprise, my daughter broke the silence first.

"I'll be fine. You know that... Right?"

I only had a moment of flustered silence to try to grasp her meaning, before she abruptly clarified, her words tumbling over each other, brook-like, with an endearing mix of emotion, and youth, yet surprising maturity. She was so old of soul. Sometimes it was endearing. But sometimes it hurt to remember why she was the way she was.

"I just mean... I'm not like a Human child anymore. I'm not sure I ever was to begin with, but I'm not the same as I was when we first met... I'm stronger. *You,* and Neyla, and Kephic, and Varan... You've made me stronger."

I forced myself to look down at the tears I knew were gathering in her eyes, biting back my own as best I could while she continued, her voice dancing on the edge of love, and laughter, and weeping all at once.

"In *some* ways I'm still a fledgeling, but in others I'm *not!* And even fledglings go to war sometimes. Humans, and Ponies, they shield their young... But we strengthen and arm them! And Dad? You and Mo-- And Neyla... You've done such a good job!"

Losing outward control of my emotions entirely, I opted to simply let the tears flow as I did my best to muster a proud smile while Alyra's words jumbled onwards to a conclusion. I'm not sure what it was that finally got to me; The way she caught herself referring to Neyla as 'Mom,' or the eloquence with which she proved her own inner strength, and eviscerated all my unspoken arguments, in the same lilting collection of words.

"You are such *good* parents, and family... We are a family. And that means we live together... We fight together... And if we have to? We die together... And if not, we carry memories on. You can shield me, and teach me, and love me, without locking me away in a tower for the rest of my life. Because I can handle risk. Adventure. Responsibility... Even if I had to be the one to outlive you. What I can't handle? Is missing out on it all. Missing out on *our* adventure."

Distantly, I was aware that Neyla, Kephic, and Varan were watching from the door, having arrived somewhere over the course of Alyra's last exhalation.

Rather than acknowledging them, I focused wholly on my daughter, pulling her close to my chest, and wrapping my wings firmly around her.

We held that position for a long moment, each struggling to reign in the tears. At last, Alyra pulled away slightly, cradling her weight against my wings, and taking my right claw in hers. With a wan smile, she pressed it up against her heart, as if to reassure me.

"You don't have to run, any more than I do now."

The way that the words, and the gesture mirrored my own first words and gestures to her, left me again struggling, and failing, to contain tears.

She was right. I knew she was right. The surety settled over my whole being, and seeped down into my soul with a cool, comforting clarity that would brook no argument from the latent angry monkey brain still buried somewhere at the back of my psyche.

She was right.

It was time to let go of some fears. I said a silent prayer of thanks. I knew full well that such moments of growth were God-given gifts of grace.

Letting go of a ragged breath, and a great many burdens with it, I released my daughter, rose, and moved purposefully to my worktable, finally managing to get my breathing under control enough to speak without my voice cracking completely.

"You know, I wanted to save this for your birthday. But I'm sure I can come up with something else, because you should have this now."

Releasing the catch on one of the desk's many complex compartments, I reverently extracted a long, thin package wrapped in oiled cloth.

Turning and kneeling by the hearth, I extended the object to my daughter in both claws, allowing her to gingerly peel back the covering to reveal a slightly curved short sword, lying on top of its custom leather scabbard, its naturally silvery mirror-finish alloy glistening a reflective gold in the fire-light.

The weapon was perfectly shaped, and sized, just small enough to be wielded as a long-sword by a younger Gryphon, but large enough to be grown into as a one-claw short-sword in adulthood. An intricately patterned claw-guard extended downward, and wove through the pommel as a single seamless piece of metal, emerging out the bottom as a second, dagger-length blade with an opposing curve to the main structure.

I'd seen the way Alyra looked at Neyla's double-sided blades with awe, and no small amount of envy.

She lifted the sword with a similar expression of awe, and gratitude, and joy, giving it an experimental series of swings, before stilling herself so I could tie down her rucksack, and her new scabbard.

With a grin, and no small quantity of leftover tears on her face, the young Gryphoness sheathed her sword at her back, the action producing a satisfying rasp of metal on leather, followed by a click as the holding mechanism engaged.

That motion, that familiar rasp and click as the weapon fell into place, the little self-assured grin... At that moment I knew that she wasn't a child anymore.

She would always be my daughter. But she was no longer a fledgling. She had achieved more than enough growth to be accorded the trust, and responsibilities, of a young adult.

The group moved into the hall wordlessly, though I had time to catch deeply approving, loving, smiles from Neyla, and my siblings, before silently taking the lead. I was glad to have the forward position. It helped me hide my fresh tears.

With a chilly and bright dawn, a sharp southern wind had descended from the frozen mountains, whipping at the pennants and banners of Canterlot's glittering spires. The snap and rustle of the fabric was a comforting sound to the morning Royal Guard contingent.

The zephyr produced a much less comforting sound as it passed over the bodies of the castle's newest arrivals; An otherworldly crackle and snick, not dissimilar to a breeze amongst autumn leaves, but not quite the same either.

Though the Changelings of IJ's rebellious breakaway hive looked considerably less menacing than their more numerous counterparts, they were still obviously not Ponies. And they clearly had just as much lethal potential as their more hostile cousins, if not more.

Inside Joke herself, or IJ for short, was an intimidating figure, marching in the center of a small phalanx of her own guards. At first glance, she looked similar to Celestia; Snow-white, tall, lithe, and possessed of both a horn and wings.

Unlike Celestia, the Changeling Queen's wings were decidedly insectoid. But unlike most other hive queens, IJ's wings were evocative more of a butterfly, or a garden beetle, with hints of a pseudo-feathered structure like a Pegasus.

No trace whatsoever lingered of the more common Changeling structures, which often evoked a diseased locust, or some sort of alien wasp.

Closer inspection showed that IJ had a shocking blue mane, and that in lieu of fur, her body was comprised of sleek pearly chitin plating, that dipped and swooped from seamless panel to seamless panel, like a perfect suit of skin-hugging ceramic armor.

The members of her guard were, like all those in her hive, also decidedly different to expectations. Their bodies were also plated in smooth curving plates, each a unique muted pastel color. Their wings were like smaller, more compact versions of IJ's own, and in place of a mane, horn, or spikes, arcing graceful crests of chitin adorned their heads.

The phalanx had morphed extra body armor, appropriate to their duties as protectors, which gave them added bulk and stature as compared to their base forms.

Celestia's guards looked on silently, their standard impassive expressions doing nothing to betray their inner fear, suspicion, and even slight envy. Though loathe to discuss it, they knew that one of IJ's guards was worth a dozen of them in combat.

Arrayed in two honor guard rows, the Ponies watched intently as IJ and her procession made their way to the main Castle entrance, where Celestia and Luna stood flanked by their guard captains, waiting to meet their guests.

As the three Royal beings exchanged diplomatic pleasantries, two Royal guards watched from afar, perched at a watchpoint on a tower balcony.

The larger one, a male Pegasus, spoke to his companion in a low, steady tone.

"It seems as if their negotiations will proceed then."

The second guard, a female Unicorn, nodded and glowered, her tone and expression less restrained as she aired her thoughts.

"I suppose it suits our purposes better this way. But if I were in the Princess' positions, I would hardly extend such trust to our... 'Guests.' "

The male nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the negotiations, making a mental note of all that was said as he read the speakers' lips. After a long moment, he responded.

"Well, as you said, things will proceed. Have you made your preparations?"

His companion inclined her head, and smiled slightly.

"Yes, and checked everything thrice. Though I find this spoken-word practice to be irritating."

The Pegasus allowed himself a small smile, and turned to face his companion as the Royal entourage moved out of his sightline.

"Be ready to move at my signal, but not before. The timing matters."

He paused, then turned to enter the tower. As he finished his thought, the back of his eyes caught a glint of sunlight at just the right angle, flashing an unearthly green for the briefest of moments.

"We want to be sure their highnesses make just the right inferences once the dust settles. Peace between the traitors and the one-forms is not in our best interest."

Earth Calendar: 2113
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 4th, Gregorian Calendar

Hutch

"Just one moment sir. Thank you for your patience."

I raised one eyebrow, and exchanged a half-smirk, half-scowl with my companion. Aston grimaced, and shook her head. We had been twiddling our collective thumbs in the antechamber for almost half an hour, our only point of contact the disembodied intercom voice of a secretary.

The reorganization of Earth's Navy, Marines, and ConSec under the JRSF had come with a huge shit-heap of unpleasantness for all of us, but especially us Humans.

I knew that the worst of it, in Aston's mind, was the way the new 'Military Integrity Commission' had turned its investigations into an outright witch hunt.

A lot of experienced flag officers had been cashiered out of JRSF service by MIC panels, based on only the slightest unwitting association with HLF infiltrators, or E-12 contacts. In most cases, as far as we knew, the majority of the discharged officers had never realized they were working side by side with operatives from the terrorist groups.

Though even I wondered sometimes... How could you spend years working beside someone and not see some hint of the hatred?

Paranoia had been the word of the day. The Council's high-horse demands to retain, and even tighten their control over the Army, Air Force, and the Military Police, hadn't exactly helped to cultivate a kumbaya kind of mood.

Political and old-guard flag-level sentiment ran sharply against the removal of the officers. Nobody with half a brain was surprised by that.

But troop-level sentiment demanded blood for blood. Most JRSF soldiers were happier under an Equestrian CO than a Human one, according to the latest poll data. That didn't surprise me anymore. It might've once, but I'd spent enough time around the Equestrians, especially the feathered and scaled ones, to understand why the rank and file practically worshipped them.

Gryphons especially, but some Dragons too, had this kind of pre-programmed morality-lock. They couldn't be bought, bullied, or intimidated. Truly incorruptible.

When you dedicate your life to killing others, and risking your neck, to protect people? You appreciate the idea that the people in charge over you are incapable of taking a bribe, or giving in to certain darker impulses.

I'd thought about converting myself more than a little bit in the intervening years. I'd seen enough to know that it would have to be soon, or I'd risk being left behind in the career sense.

The public was split more evenly in their opinions, or so the talking heads were telling us, but enough of a thin majority had emerged to lend momentum to the anti-oldguard movement within the MIC.

I had barely held onto my own gold bars by the skin of my teeth, and the benefit of my strong association with Equestrian military contacts.

Aston and I had discussed and chewed the cud on the purge at length, and we eventually agreed that at least part of the tipping force was born of justifiable fear; Fear of unilateral reprisals, chiefly the ones the Gryphons might levy, if something like the E-12 scandal were to ever surface again.

Equestria's winged guardians were damn quick to shed blood in defense of that strict moral code, and they would answer to no negotiation, and take no excuses, when it came to enforcing parts of that code.

Even enforcing adherence in other sovereign nations at the sharp end of the sword, the beak, and the claw.

These guys did not piss around with questions about the ethics of inserting themselves into other nations' affairs. I envied that; The simplicity of having just decided to help others, and accept the consequences both good, and bad.

But the fact remained that the overzealous paranoia of the MIC, combined with the generally anti-Human swing in the populace, both civilian and martial, had acted as an inescapable career-ending filter against any officer, Captain or above, who had ever said or done anything on-record that could be interpreted as anti-Equestrian. And that I didn't envy at all.

I guess I was just lucky that I was best friends with the guy who started the fire in the first place.

But the leftovers of that brushfire had ended up placing vast burdens of command and administration on a small chokepoint of remaining qualified individuals formerly from Earthgov military command, and the few new additions to the upper ranks of the command staff from the JRSF.

Aston had asked me to try to remember the last time she, or I had slept a full night. I hated that I couldn't.

And we knew our direct superior had it ten times worse on even the best of days.

"He'll see you now. Thanks for waiting."

We rose in silent unison, both reflexively tugging on the bottom of our new uniform jackets to straighten them, as we made their way to the office's double sliding frosted glass doors.

I liked the new standard JRSF uniforms; A light gray urban camouflage base fabric, with thin textile armor plating in matte darker gray, a high mandarin collar with a division or specialty pin on the left, and rank bars on the right, and a crimson stripe across the left breast, and down the left shoulder, separated on one side with division-colored piping.

Dark gray trousers with their own light armor paneling, and a plain dark navy belt with a silver buckle finished out the standard getup. It was good looking kit.

The non-Human personnel wore something similar, though usually it looked and behaved even more like light duty armor. Equestrians were, for the most part, not big on clothes. Armor was as close as many of them ever got.

The doors slid away to reveal the inner office. The space was much larger than a corresponding room would have been pre-integration, allowing it to host Gryphons and Dragons without squeezing the other occupants of the room to death. We were all grateful for those changes.

It was only irritating to the Dragons or Gryphons, squeezing into a smaller space with us. For us monkeys, it was downright scary.

We came to a stop before the room's central desk, and proffered casual but respectful salutes before seating ourselves.

Five-Star General Arnshekh was not like most Dragons I'd met.

He seemed to take a more Gryphic view of ceremony and pomp, preferring to dispense with it where possible. According to him, it was a commonality Gold Dragons and Gryphons shared, and it was a contributing factor in a long-running alliance of theirs.

Gryphons fighting side by side with thirty five ton golden living attack cruisers that breathe Greek Fire. Now there was a scary thought.

Like others of his species, however, he had a cool-headed logic that had led Aston to nickname him 'Mister Vulcan' behind his back. It had probably been the chief factor of consideration in granting him such a high level JRSF commission, based on no other merits than the rank he held within his own kind's loosely organized military structure, and his age.

Hell of a lateral career move.

The big gold lizard's calm, understanding, practical demeanor was an oasis for us from the stress, frayed tempers, and exhaustion that pervaded most flag officers. Talking with him wasn't just a livable experience, when that was hardly the case for Human officers. It was downright therapeutic. You could feel your stress melting away.

Arnshekh worked his shoulder and wing joints, and sighed, allowing a deep rumble of exhaustion to churn briefly in his chest cavity before speaking.

The vibrations of his voice shook the whole chamber. Like most Dragons the General sat directly on a cushion on the floor, to prevent his eyes from being ridiculously elevated above any Human guests by his own stature, which only served to amplify the bass notes of his words in our ribs.

"I'm sorry. That took much longer than I would have anticipated. For a military organization supposedly autonomous and free of politics, we seem to suddenly spend a great deal of time answering to the frightened whims of politicians, don't we?"

Aston nodded, and mumbled something under her breath that I couldn't catch. Arnshekh did, and it seemed to amuse him. A slight twinkle entered his huge green eyes, and danced along the undertones of his voice.

"I've come to accept it as a fact of life. Honestly, I never had any expectations to the contrary. The eldest and wisest of your kind would be counted as naught but children among mine, and centuries away from the maturity needed to hold high station. But you age differently, and there is nothing to be done about that which isn't already being done. We have more pressing concerns."

Arnshekh drummed one claw slowly on the desk's surface, pausing to collect his thoughts, before continuing, fixing both of us with his gaze in turn.

"You have both had extensive experience with a red Gryphon named 'Fyrenn,' have you not?"

I smiled ruefully, almost reflexively, and nodded.

"Oh yes. You could say that."

Aston inclined her head, and added her own affirmation.

"I'd go so far as to call him one of our closest friends. In spite of his lack of popularity with most flag officers."

The Gold Dragon smiled slightly, and nodded, a notable sense of relief entering his tone.

"Good. The situation will benefit from delicacy, and mutual understanding."

I cocked my head slightly, and tensed involuntarily.

"Situation, sir?"

Arnshekh inclined his head, a small cluster of scales near his jaw hinge working back and forth as if to visually display that the Dragon was thinking deeply as he spoke.

"You are undoubtedly up to date on the latest information on the attempted bombing at the Genesist project. What you don't know is that Councilor Martins has rashly opted to bypass due channels, and instead call in a personal favor to 'solve' the problem. That favor being Fyrenn. She at least did us the courtesy of notifying us... But little else."

Aston sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, gritting out her words without putting in much effort to filter her frustration from them.

"You know, on a fundamental level I like him. I do. But the last thing anyone wants, or needs right now, is his particular brand of 'solution.' We'll end up with a body count bigger than the Bubonic Plague, and a political shit-storm the size of the Moon. Again."

Arnshekh shook his head slowly, exhaling in a rare audible display of his own frustration.

"No; That's what you and Hutchinson will be there to prevent. Gryphons listen to no one save those they respect. You are his friends. Ergo he respects you. Ergo he will listen to you."

I held up a hand and stiffened. The General was getting into cart-before-the-horse territory. Fast.

"Hang on now. Gryphons don't always listen to those they respect either. Last time, there wasn't a damned thing we could do to cool him down until he'd accomplished what he wanted. I'm convinced that no one but God could've managed that, and since He didn't step in..."

The Golden Dragon gave my response several moments' consideration, before dismissing it with a wave of one claw.

"Then, his daughter's life was in peril. Many of my kind, and doubtless all of his, would have done exactly the same in such circumstances. Myself included. This is an issue of importance for him, true, but he is far from the unstable condition he was in last time. I am confident you'll be able to temper his aggression, and Martins' desire to exploit said aggression to make some sort of statement."

Hated to admit it, but he had solid points. He always did.

Arnshekh reached under the desk, pulled forth a DaTab, then shoved the object across to me.

"Your orders. Report to Waystation Epsilon Five, in Durham. Escort him, and anyone he brought with him, to the Genesist Facility. Fast air transport will be provided to you by the JRSF 17th Air Division. Refueling stopovers are available in Bogota, and aboard Yorktown. When he and party arrive, remain to oversee JRSF interests, offer assistance in the investigation, and discreetly ensure a quiet outcome, if possible."

I read the DaTab, got the gist, nodded in the affirmative and passed it to Aston. As she perused the contents, she raised one eyebrow expectantly.

"Why both of us? The Charlotte evacuation is getting underway in just over two weeks. We're starting the final moving process for the new JRSF Centcom in one. We're critically short on experienced staff. Shouldn't at least one of us be here? Or at the new HQ?"

Arnshekh mimicked Aston's gesture, raising a small cluster of scales over his right eye.

"You just argued, and rather eloquently, that your friend will be difficult to restrain. Which do you think is more important... Paperwork? Or the safety of our tenuous political 'peace,' such as it is, and the billions of Human lives which that peace is protecting?"

Aston winced, and nodded.

"Point well made sir."

His points always were.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

A thick, ghostly pre-dusk fog had settled on the mountain by the time it came into view. The setting sun, and the first tendrils of the moon's gray light, gave the hanging moisture a silvery lacework throughout, as if someone had spilled dribbles of mercury from a cosmic vat.

Spires and minarets, all fashioned of white marble, reflected only a dull glint through the haze.

I had never quite understood the science behind a Gryphon's sight, but as always, I was grateful for its strange and wonderful capacity to pierce veils of near-opacity.

It proved especially useful for safe navigation, even when the light coming off an object ought to have been too distorted or scattered to resolve an image, by conventional metrics.

Our arrival received only passing glances from the castle guards. The armored Ponies apparently had other, more pressing preoccupations, and the sight of Gryphons had become steadily less unusual over the course of the preceding years.

My family and I were on good enough terms with the Royal Sisters to merit unrestricted access to the Castle. The guards knew our names, and faces, as was the case for all who were granted such privileges.

We made our way unchallenged to Celestia's innermost study. The monarch could usually be found there, preferring its inviting warm tones, and perceived level footing, to the more ceremonial nature of the throne room.

I indulged in a beaming, genuine smile as Alyra shot ahead of me into the room, tumbling into a playful brawl-turned-embrace with two Equine forms who she was in real danger of surpassing in size within a year's time.

It did my heart good to see the whole family group together in one room once more.

Skye and Stan both leaned into the gesture, giggling unrestrainedly. I noted with some surprise, and satisfaction, that Carradan looked fitter and more trim than he'd ever been before.

Though the salmon Pegasus still possessed what a Human might call a hefty, stocky 'linebacker's build,' it had been toned to a full on warrior's fit and finish since the last time I saw him.

I exchanged a smirking glance, and a shrug, with Equestria's two monarchs, who watched with barely concealed amusement from their more dignified positions on an ornate settee.

The room's fifth original occupant made her way over to the tumble of wings and fur on the floor, and paused to extract Alyra gently, before doling out her own graceful, much less energetic, but no less loving hug.

Internally I sighed in contentment, reflecting with wonder and amusement that once, in what seemed like a lifetime past, I would have snapped a Changeling's neck for coming within a mile of any foal or fledgeling. Let alone my own.

And yet, I felt no latent fear, disgust, or even mild concern at IJ's gesture. If anything it stirred hope that the political situation between the reformed Changelings and our own kind mind yet find a permanent stable claw-hold.

Skye, finally extricating herself from gravity, and mirth, sat up and locked eyes with me. Her visage fell slightly, and a serious thrum of anticipation entered her voice.

"You didn't just come here to surprise us, did you."

The words came out more as a statement than a question, nevertheless I nodded in absolute confirmation, deftly removing Martins' message from my satchel, and tossing it to the Unicorn in one smooth motion.

Skye caught the document in her thaumatic field, unfurled it, and read it, in a similarly smooth extension of that motion, before rolling it up and passing it politely to Celestia and Luna.

"I'll just be a few minutes."

I nodded to the blue and tan Unicorn, trading a fist-to-hoof bump with her grimly.
As she passed and headed for the doors, I tossed a final admonishment over my shoulder.

"Pack light if you can. Just the bare essentials."

Stan seemed to catch on to the general direction of things abruptly, and his face fell. The Pegasus sighed, and sat back on his haunches as he spoke.

"Don't suppose you can stay at all then?"

I reached out with a fisted claw to bump my good friend's hoof, and inclined my head, permitting a cheerier tone to reach my reply.

"Kephic and Varan plan to stick around with you. I think they've missed you almost as much as I have."

Carradan snorted and smirked, mumbling his retort, but not truly bothering to drop the register of his voice enough to mask it.

"More likely they want you to spend a little more alone-time with pretty-in-blue over there. I can get behind that. I need drinking buddies like a man dying in a desert needs water."

Luna dipped her head towards Kephic and Varan, "Your presence would be welcome, particularly as a symbolic show of Gryphon support for our current negotiations."

IJ likewise inclined her head in silent acknowledgement.

For her part, Celestia proffered me a curiously piercing glance, then tilted her head to the side, before rising without explanation. I followed the Solar Monarch to a far corner of the room, as the rest of the group split off into their own continued conversations.

"This is an extremely disturbing turn of events."

Nodding, I exhaled slowly, lowering the volume of my response to match the private tone of Celestia's own words.

"That is what we in military circles call 'a hell of an understatement.' The PER have no intention of letting those ships leave in one piece, and they won't hesitate to do *anything* to keep things going in their favor."

Celestia nodded sagely and flicked one ear in thought.

"Yes. That is doubtless why you in particular have been summoned. Your reputation is also one of achieving your goal with little or no thought to the rules, or cost, beyond your basic moral code."

I sighed, and shook my head slowly, doing my genuine best to inject a partial air of respect overtop of the frustration in my voice. I knew exactly where the conversation was going, and I didn't have the overhead to re-litigate it.

"You want to admonish me, chastise me, and maybe even beg me, to be careful and discreet on this trip. You want to make sure I consider wider political ramifications, and not just the needs of Martins and her people. And you want me to keep an eye open as to any ways I can mitigate the damage I've already done. Does that about cover it?"

Celestia smirked slightly, and proffered a tiny wink as she brushed past me on her way back to the center of the room.

"You are a fast learner, my friend."

Though tempting, I ultimately resisted the impulse to reply, keeping the words firmly locked inside my own head.

'Only when I want to be.'

Chapter 4

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifth Day, Celestial Calendar

Four eyes watched from a gable window as three Gryphons, one bearing a lone Unicorn, vanished into the evening mist. The luminous orbs blinked in peculiarly synchronized patterns, occasionally betraying tiny flecks of green for split seconds at a time.

The owner of the first two made her thoughts known with poorly disguised disdain. Had anyone apart from her larger Pegasus comrade been able to hear them, they would have found the tone wholly unbecoming of a Royal Guard.

'What I'd give for a chance to kill those claw-toed, feather-clad, brainless--'

Her superior interrupted sharply, though his muzzle remained as firmly closed as his companion's.

'Mind your thoughts. They betray your lack of discipline. Hate them? Yes. Underestimate them? Only at your peril. Far more of us have died fighting them than vice versa. Neither the strength of the Hive, nor fluidity of form, will be your ally, without the ability to remain emotionless, and pragmatic.'

The Changelings both stiffened, reflecting each-other's' tension back and forth betwixt themselves for a moment, before the older Pegasus-form quashed the sentiment forcibly, and continued in a forced monotone.

'This will be difficult enough with two of them hanging about the castle. Do not provoke them, or involve them. Be extra cautious, and with proper timing we can finish our task without any added risk or delay.'

The female Unicorn-form nodded slowly, her ears drooping in submission at last, along with the tone of her thoughts.

'Understood. My will is the Hive's.'

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Sixth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

I pointedly chose to ignore the questioning stares of my companions, closing my eyes and savoring every last precious gulp as O downed the contents of my third chilled tankard in a single go.

The fact that it was barely mid-morning had no bearing whatsoever on the number of tankards I intended to put away. Accusations of day-drinking be damned.

I paused to swirl the last of the beer around the tip of my tongue, before swallowing, gasping for air, and setting the tankard gingerly next to its empty twins on the deep brown, weathered mahogany surface of the table.

Glancing back and forth between Kephic and Varan, I shrugged and grinned.

"What? I haven't had a thing to drink besides water in *months.* I think I've found a whole new appreciation for ol' redfeathers' boot camp stories. IJ is merciless I tell ya. Absolutely stone blithering cold on the training ground."

Varan raised an eyebrow, and spoke with his usual flat tone as Kephic snorted, and stuck his beak into his own tankard.

"I take it your relationship has suffered then?"

I coughed reflexively for a moment, clenching my eyes shut and shaking my head as I looked to clear my throat and put his question to bed.

"Ack! No no! Just the opposite! Sure it's been a tough little while on me, but she's doing it for our own good. She leads a dangerous life. You guys live dangerous lives. I gotta be equipped to survive in those conditions. If anything, it's brought us closer than ever. Don't get me wrong; I picked up a LOT of good stuff from watching you overgrown dusters slam heads together..."

I succeeded in fully clearing my airway, and paused to inhale before finishing the thought in a way I knew wouldn't insult my buddies.

"...But Gryphons fight like Gryphons. Changelings fight much more like a Pegasus oughta, and so they're the best teachers I could ever ask for. I ain't been in this kinda shape since college. And I can bludgeon brains with the best of 'em these days."

Kephic lowered his tankard slowly, and raised one eyebrow with a facial expression equal parts incredulity, humor, and his favorite brand of mock scorn.

I inclined my head and sighed. These guys wouldn't ever let you brag. Not to save your life.

"Right. Fine. With the best of the beginners. No need to lord a century of experience over us mere grass-eaters."

The speckled Gryphon shook his head, and his grin widened as he gestured to the bartender to bring another round.

"We just want to be sure all those new muscles don't go to your head; We want you to live long enough to have a century of experience too. You've grown on us, after all."

Kephic sighed contentedly, and glanced around the mostly empty establishment as he continued. I could tell he was mentally sizing up the other patrons, all Equines eating hearty breakfasts, for no other reason than to have an extra internal thought-exercise.

Gryphons had this terrifying way of seeing everything. Absolutely everything. All the time.
Lying to them was, for the most part a bad joke, hiding emotions was usually a losing battle, and concealing anything, no matter how small, whether physical or emotional, was a non-starter.

"You *do* look to be in excellent shape. It's nice to see a Pony with the gumption, *and* the physical capacity, to stand up and defend his own kind as a real warrior. Maybe there's hope for your gold-plated friends after all..."

"Well I'd certainly hope so. Otherwise it's a pretty bad reflection on me."

The new voice took me by surprise, but clearly not the Gryphons. Because of course it didn't.

I couldn't place the white Unicorn's face, but I got the meaning inherent in his Royal attire instantly. Kephic and Varan both looked like they recognized him out and out, but the expression was one of familiarity by reputation, not by acquaintance.

Kephic reached to his left, snagging a chair from the nearest empty table, and pulling it into position.

"Hey now. It's not as if your kind lacks potential, or even a dedicated few with the right skills..."

The Unicorn relaxed slightly as he sat, finishing Kephic's thought for him, as he set his gold tinted helmet down on the table.

"...Well, as her Highness is always saying; Why should we militarize in apparent defiance of our peaceful nature, when we have you folks to kill all the things that go bump in the night *for* us?"

He sighed, and shook his head politely in refusal as Varan proffered a fresh mug of cider. Abruptly realizing that I was silently struggling to place his identity, he smiled and extended one hoof to the me.

"I'm Shining Armor."

I reached out to bump the hoof with my own, pausing to respond before going muzzle-first into yet another tankard. I loved that hoof-bump greeting. When I was a Human, I had to shake a lot of nasty, greasy, awfully germy hands as a reporter. I didn't miss it, not one lick.

"Stan. Nice to meetcha!"

Kephic smirked and glanced at the disproportionately large pile of empty mugs beside me. If nothing else? I could certainly hold my liquor like a Gryphon.

He took the opportunity to fill in the relevant information Shining had left out, for my benefit.

"Shining was Captain of the Day-Guard for a long time. Then he found a mate, got promoted, and now he commands their northern army."

Shining raised a hoof and shook his head, suppressing a chuckle.

"Correction: I'm technically a prince now, and that's why I'm in charge of the Northern Defense Force, such as it is. I just usually don't like to talk about it right out of the gate. Ruling, and ceremony, and circumstance are my Wife's purview. I'm happiest when everyone pretends I'm still 'one of the guys.' "

I cocked my head and raised one eyebrow, interjecting abruptly as I finally put my last mug aside in favor of a small plate of hot apple strudel. I sensed a kindred spirit, but I also sensed a learning opportunity. Reporters' catnip.

"Is our society exclusively a matriarchy or somethin'? I'm still fuzzy on the politics over here, but every time ponies are talkin' about who's in charge, it's always a 'she.' "

Shining offered only a shrug as he collected his thoughts. After a brief pause, he launched into his best explanation in a good-natured tone of interest. I made a mental note of every last word. I still did a lot of freelance writing for Earth-side newsmedia, and the leadership structures of the Equestrian nations were still pea-soup to most average Humans.

"Well, yes and no. The Human term is 'meritocracy.' We are ruled by our Alicorns, and our Alicorns arise only from among worthy, and representative members of any of the three tribes. In recent recorded history, all of our Alicorns have been females. But we only really have four to go on at any rate, so it's a subject of intense debate amongst scholars."

Good, but not great. That wasn't his fault, apparently everypony was just as confused about some of the details. I shrugged at the explanation, and took a deep breath of the steam emanating from my deliciously fruity breakfast, muttering softly to myself in interest.

"I really need to find some books on the subject or somethin'. The reporter in me wants to understand every last little nut and bolt of the system. You can't understand anything as messy as politics without context."

Varan inclined his head in agreement, adjusting the conversation's course with his own query as I finally dug into my food with, what I imagine seemed to them to be uncharacteristic restraint. One of the habits IJ had taught me. Food was better, and better for you, when consumed at a steady rate, rather than inhaled.

"Speaking of political complexity. What brings you down from the Crystal Empire?"

Shining glowered down at the decorative tuft on his helmet, gritting his teeth reflexively for a long and awkward moment, before responding with a carefully measured note of controlled anger. Again I sensed a story. Probably several. Probably juicer than the fruit on my plate.

"Cadence asked me to represent her in her stead at these... 'Negotiations' with the Changelings. Her last encounter with them was... A bad experience. I'm here so she doesn't have to be. And I'm here to ensure there won't be any repeat bad experiences."

Shaking my head adamantly, I snorted, barely avoiding a culinary disaster in my haste to interject. Food could be turned into a mean projectile by Equine lungs, let me tell you.

"Naw! That's one thing you definitely don't need to worry about. I can vouch for that personally."

Shining fired off an expression that seemed torn between anger, disgust, and outright disbelief in my direction. I decided very suddenly that I liked him a lot less than I'd thought I would.

"You mean to tell me you *know* this Changeling Queen?"

I chuckled and blinked rapidly, reminding myself, for the millionth time, that I wasn't dreaming. I did my best to stay vague, but I knew my tone gave a lot away. I didn't mind. If he didn't like my beau? He could stuff it up his poncy princely ass for all I cared.

"You ah... You could say that. You could say that, and a whole lot more."

The Unicorn snorted in derision, rising and retrieving his helmet to the soft tune of his own thaumatic field. As Shining placed the protective garb back onto his head, he cast a withering glare over his shoulder at me. I decided that not only did I not like him at all, but that I'd rather he took that smug superiority, and shoved it somewhere else.

"My advice? Put any perceived... 'connection' you have to this creature aside. Changelings are trouble. Pure and simple. You're either duped, safely distanced... Or you're trouble too. Best to decide now rather than have her decide for you."

As the Prince departed, I fixed the back of his head with a stare that visibly shocked my Gryphon companions. Varan and Kephic exchanged a brief glance, each probably reflecting on how my demeanor was more suited to an angry Gryphon than any Pegasus they had previously met.

Their good influence on me was to be thanked for that. Gryphons know how to be angry. How to be angry, and how to use it in all the most dangerous ways. Bless 'em for sharing their know-how when asked. There was a time I couldn't have held my own against wet toilet tissue.

I wagered that at that point, I could have beat Prince snob-muzzle within an inch of his life without breaking a sweat, thanks as much to the Gryphons as to IJ.

I lifted my fork in the frog of one hoof and rammed it into the remains of my strudel with such force that it pierced the food, the wooden plate, and most of the table underneath, grinding out my thoughts through a grit muzzle.

"I think I hate that guy."

Varan sighed, and gulped back the entire contents of his tankard in a single go.

"Ah. The throes of love, and all its wondrous side effects."

Kephic smirked, and clapped me on the shoulder roughly.

"You know something? I think we've been a bad influence on you."

If they were a bad influence, I decided I never wanted a good one ever again.

As to the prince? I had only one thought as I carefully extracted my strudel from the ruins of my plate.

Buck that guy.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 5th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

The first thing to catch my eye was the pulse of the lighthouse; Dim at first over the curve of the horizon, but intensifying with proximity, until at last it resolved into a bright flickering point, keeping rhythmic but steady watch over a scene of almost contradictory juxtaposition.

I wasn't sure if anyone truly understood the spatial mechanics of the Barrier. Skye certainly seemed to have a better idea than the average lay-being, but all her attempts to help me understand had come to naught. Math was never my strong suit, let alone N-Dimensional Calculus.

All I could grasp was that which most people did. The Barrier was inexorable in its march, complex elements from Earth could not pass through it intact, and the relative scale of distance was different on either side.

For every square meter of Earth consumed by the energy field, an exponentially larger amount of space was added to Equestria.

All the greatest miracles of modern science and Equestrian Thaumatics had ever managed to do was slow the Barrier's march slightly, and ensure a narrow corridor of Equestrian space would expand less explosively, keeping the trip from Earth to known inhabited lands artificially short.

In practical terms that meant there was only one safe place to cross over into Equestria, and only one easily reachable location to cross over to Earth. Reaching a more distant point of the Barrier on the Equestrian side would be a journey of months, or years.

Crossing from Earth at any other point would leave the traveler stranded in uncharted, virgin lands teeming with unknown dangers, and with no sense of location, or way home.

Due to continuing expansion, the safe transit point would move constantly to maintain its relative arc-point on the bubble. Dramatically on the Earth side, and much more slowly on the Equestrian side.

At the time I was vaguely aware through hearsay that a small landmass had appeared in the Equestrian Great Western Sea, which had until recently abutted the North Atlantic Ocean. The latter was more or less gone by that time. All consumed.

The new island, for its part, had been converted into an embarkation port for Converts. The island's most visible feature was a tall brick lighthouse. The remainder of the available space was covered entirely in multilevel stone and wooden walkways, and waiting areas.

The terraces spilled over into docks on the island's eastern side, and linked to a series of long bridges on its western side. The modular spans arced all the way across the barrier, supported by floating stanchions, making landfall on Earth at their terminus.

The sight was made all the stranger by the height difference between the island, sitting at sea-level, and the land-level of Earth, which was four hundred feet higher at the connecting point, and rising dramatically as the barrier chewed its way inland into North America.

One could make out four hundred feet of geology, mostly molten and collapsing in hyper-slow-motion as a result of the Barrier's energies, laid out like a diorama behind the swirling translucent colors of the bubble.

A steady stream of wooden and canvas sailing ships, as well as newer similarly constructed airships, came and went on the Equestrian side. The Earth side was a logistically nightmarish sprawl of tents, emergency shelters, maglev and monorail tracks, VTOL pads, and footpaths covering several hundred acres.

As we approached, I could even make out crews removing tents, segments of track, and other useful materials near the barrier as it marched steadily on, replacing those supplies at the opposite end of the camp in a seemingly never-ending sisyphean task.

I shuddered reflexively.

In spite of all the things I loved about being a Gryphon, about my new home, and about the partnership between Humanity and Equestria, the painful truth still remained.

The world of my birth was dying a staid, but inevitable death.

There was more than a little existential horror implicit in such a concept. Mostly I could put it out of my mind, but occasionally it kept me awake at night.

It was visibly obvious that Humanity was finally beginning to feel the true squeeze of that horror. When I had left last, a few hundred Converts might be transiting on an especially busy day.

By the count of my faultless Gryphon eyes, which missed nothing so much as a stray hair, it looked as if that number had moved into the tens of thousands.

Some fast and rough calculations told me that, even with those numbers, and subtracting the compliment the Genesists intended to fly away, as well as any Humans dying of old age, it would take almost a millennium to move the whole species at the given rate.

Earth didn't even have half a century left, of that much the professional number-crunchers were sure. No one could say whether the number was closer to forty, or twenty, because no one knew yet if the Barrier Retarder platforms were going to begin losing their effectiveness to the momentum of the field.

The worst, I knew, would be to come. In the years when billions of bodies would be crammed into tiny remaining spaces in Asia, Australia, and emergency floating settlements in the Indian Ocean which were already under construction.

The chokepoint would cease to be Human apathy, and fear of change, and would begin to instead be pure logistical limitation on how many people could safely be converted, and transported, per hour. How quickly could Humans make potion with reduced manufacturing capacity. How quickly could they get the word out, process people safely, and get them moved on when apathy might still, after all that suffering, be the primary driving force?

To a Gryphon, twenty years wasn't an especially long time, as compared to the Human view of time. It baffled me to think that people were still recalcitrant to accept their future. The same stupid heel-dragging that had caused the climate apocalypse of the early twenty first century.

The exercise in numbers inexorably led to the thought that, owing to average Equestrian life-span I, and most others, wouldn't just live to see the planet die, but we would live more of our lives in a reality without Earth, than we had in a reality where it still existed.

That thought kept coming back to send ice through my veins, a peculiar mix of melancholy, shock, excitement, and hope, every time I considered the math.

As Neyla and Alyra swung right to catch a thermal, and bring themselves up to the level of Earth's geology, I absently followed suit.

I privately began wondering if, in my old age, I might someday look back on my Human memories of Earth with a radically altered viewpoint which I could not yet even fathom. The product of years of living in a different world, as a different species.

Our perspectives are often so tied to our experiences.

As Equestria gave way to Earth, existentialism gave way to practicality. I exhaled sharply as the Barrier wall itself loomed, and sensed Skye do the same from her position on my back.

The trick prevented differences in air composition and pressure from causing hiccups, and other unsavory gastrointestinal or pulmonary adjustment shock.

With barely a tingle of static, and the vague sense of actually passing through a gargantuan soap bubble, the crossing was over. Equestrian matter went both ways with nary a care.

Anything from Earth more molecularly complex than simple dense non-organic metals would fall apart explosively, at the atomic level, trying to make the reverse trip.

'Why,' in a scientific sense, had long ago been pinned down. 'Why' in an evolutionary sense; Why was the Equestrian universe the way it was at all? That, no one could conclusively say.

I winced as the sounds, and smells, of the transit camp assaulted my senses, together with the much clearer sight of the sprawl.

Coolant, solvents, sweat, cooking rations, hot asphalt, and warm poly-canvas mixed to form a nasty olfactory concoction. The soundscape was awash in crying children, shouting workmen, the ever-present drone and clash of mechanical equipment, and the booming echo of multiple public address systems.

The camp's occupants were lucky; At most they'd spend two days there. Conversion itself took place in Bureaus around the world. Then the journey to the camp would be made by air, sea, rail, or some combination of the three.

Once the camp's occupants boarded an Equestrian transport, they would be off to a considerably less crowded, more comfortable living situation.

I realized suddenly that one advantage inherent to being an 'early adopter' of Conversion was the chance to pick your future accommodation. The cities, the frontier, or the countryside; All available destinations to the interested Convert.

When the crush truly began, however, I suspected that there would have to be a lottery for living space in existing settlements. The majority of late-comers would find that the price of dallying was a much harder frontier life.

That would appeal to many, of course, but it would also put many others off. Some city dwellers would be willing to trade, but not enough for everyone. Many Humans would, in my estimation, one day wish they had possessed more foresight.

Seven billion people could not be transplanted without some harsh consequences, even if Equestria could provide at least a thousand times the raw geographic space of Earth, and far more besides.

Only a microscopic fraction of that space was settled and improved, with infrastructure and all the creature comforts of society. Many a Convert would likely spend their entire life working to carve out civilization all over again, with all the benefits, and struggles, inherent to such a task.

I spied a familiar pair of Human faces near the VTOL pads, and tucked into a shallow dive. Neyla and Alyra followed, and we flared to simultaneous landings.

Alyra bounded forward and crashed into Hutch and Aston, nearly sending the two flat onto their backs with the force of her arrival, smothering them in her wings. I loved watching her do it, and never said a word to break her of the habitual greeting.

I shared a smirk with Skye, relishing the opportunity to see Hutch in a slightly undignified position, in complete opposition to the man's usual composed military bearing.

Gradually the two officers extricated themselves, returning the young Gryphoness' embrace each in turn before moving on to greet the rest of the group. Hutch and Aston exchanged fist-hoofs with Skye, then Hutch and I shared a brief hug while Aston did the same with Neyla.

I smirked again, this time at my former commander, and proffered a mischievous wink, matched by the playful air in my voice.

"How's life at the flag-level treating you *sir*?"

The use of the term was half as a needling jest, half a veiled sign of deep respect. Hutch hated it when friends used formalities to refer to him, while at the same time it was rare, perhaps nonexistent, for there to be an occasion where a Gryphon would refer to a Human with a term reserved for a superior officer.

It was my way of telling him how much I loved him, though I knew he'd never want to hear the word itself out loud. Not yet anyhow. He was more of a dear godfather, or uncle to me, than a commanding officer at that point. And to think I'd wanted to break his jaw when I first met him.

"Don't call me sir. Ever. I'm so tired of being called sir. I think I may be slowly losing my mind."

My face fell, and I sighed deeply. I could hear the pain, exhaustion, and frustration in his words, at a level I had never known him to express before, even under extreme duress.

"That bad?"

Hutch nodded sharply, and placed a friendly hand on my shoulder.

"Worse, I'm afraid. There are days where I debate throwing my bars on the desk, popping the question to Aston, marching us both right down to the Bureau, and taking the gold-stuff together without even bothering to pack a bag or write a 'dear John' to my superiors."

I knew he was referring to Gryphon Potion, and it shocked me to hear Hutch speak of it in such a longing way. The old soldier's plan had always been to take Gryphonization eventually, but he'd always seemed to be content to put it off until the last moment. It seemed to me that stress and exhaustion had utterly and irrevocably changed that.

That, perhaps, and some of the things we had seen together as a result of my own actions. Neither of us were naive obedient soldiers anymore, doing the bidding of Earthgov without question or concern. We knew too much to ever follow an order without thinking again.

Hutch sighed, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at one of the waiting aircraft; A jet-turbine VTOL configured for speed and range.

"We'll talk on the way. A lot of things have changed these last months."

I stood still for a moment, sweeping the sad scene of the camp with my eyes and taking everything in once more, as the rest of the group moved towards the VTOL. The high duracrete walls, tipped in razor wire, which surrounded the compound, struck me suddenly in a new light, and I wondered why they were even present at all.

I wondered who they were meant to keep out.

Finally, I unrooted myself only when the rest of the group had passed me by entirely, taking up the rear of the line as dark ruminations filled my mind.

Hutch's words were discomforting, to say the very least.

I wondered if it had been wise for me to come back after all.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Sixth Day, Celestial Calendar

"The situation is, and I'm sure you can understand why... Delicate."

Celestia carefully took time to lock eyes with each being seated at the table as she continued, projecting her best air of stability, calm, and level headed openness; A demeanor she had centuries of practice in summoning at a moment's notice.

"On parchment, I have the power to sign this alliance into law without any permission, consultation, or validation from any other person or party. I face no concerns from my sister... Indeed, she, as the warrior, has fewer reservations than I do."

The monarch's lavender eyes passed from Luna, to IJ, to Shining, and then back to IJ as her words marched on in an unbroken, steady train.

"But I am also subject to political forces, just as surely as every living thing is subject to gravity. I can try to defy those forces, with all the foolishness and consequences of a flightless creature hurling itself off a cliff, or I can utilize them to our benefit, the way a soaring Gryphon makes air and gravity its own subjects."

Celestia cast a brief glance across the study to a smaller table near the door, where Kephic, Varan, and Stan were passing the time in hushed conversation, and card games, with pairs of Day Guards, Night Guards, and Changeling warriors.

"Take our feathered friends for example. I have absolute power in my own government, true, but I am also legally bound by an alliance with their people, who are ruled by constitutional, representative monarchy. Any agreement between my kind and yours, IJ, must meet with some degree of their approval if I am to maintain good standing with them..."

The solar monarch cast a wry glance at Shining Armor, whose visage had remained stony and silent throughout the initial discussions of the day.

"...And though I could certainly overrule those who reign under me at various levels of my own government, I would certainly rather not. It would ease the minds of my subjects, my colleagues in government, and ease my burden of governing in future, if we could reach an alliance in a manner that satisfies all parties, and acknowledges the ripple effects such agreements have for all in the land. Not just our two interests."

IJ nodded slowly, then inclined her head towards Kephic and Varan as she embarked on a measured response.

"Your people trust the Gryphons, or you would not be so closely knit to them, even reliant on them as your guardians. I've come to see them in a positive light through my own... Friendships. So I propose we make them a part of this negotiation. They will certainly have concerns based on their past hostilities with our former kind, but I am confident that they will vouch for us, and back us, in the end. As you know, I have connections where it counts. I can make my case."

Shining interjected with precisely as much decorum as the situation required at a minimum; The rest sacrificed in his haste to object. He addressed his gaze, and words, to Celestia and Luna.

"Your highnesses, not to step above my station, but representing the viewpoint of my wife as she requested... I'd like to keep the Gryphon Kingdoms, and any other third parties, out of this. These negotiations are problematic enough without adding the inherent tension of inviting another warrior race to this table."

Celestia shook her head, and held back a deep sigh of concern, maintaining the same dispassionate tone she always did in the early stages of such a process.

"This isn't an issue of what you, your wife, or I would prefer, or like, or find convenient, Shining. This is purely an issue of what's most likely to lead to a stable outcome. Now, you have enough personal relationships to Gryphon military leaders... Don't you think that if anyone is going to support your reservations in all of this, and provide counterbalancing arguments, that it will be them?"

After a long and thoughtful pause, Shining exhaled and nodded in assent.

Celestia mimicked the gesture, and dipped her head to each being at the table in turn as she closed out the evening's work.

"Very well then; We will have a courier dispatched immediately to request diplomatic representation from the Kingdoms, or permission for those already present to act as such, as their preference may be enough. We can then resume tomorrow, with all parties present."

Glittering green eyes watched with perfect focus as the occupants issued forth from the royal study. White ears perked forward through blue-dyed mane to catch every last word.

The solar and lunar Alicorns paired off and made their way down one corridor. The female Unicorn form knew that they would be in the kitchens for hours after, sharing an evening tea. The ritual was a staple of the monarchs' familial routine.

Similarly, the two Gryphons departed in the direction of the nearest open balcony. The Unicorn form surmised they were most likely off to an evening hunt on the back side of the mountain, well beyond the bounds where animals would be wild, and no longer sapient as a result of Pony magic.

Their quest would occupy them for some hours, at minimum.

The Night Guards moved off to assume their evening watch posts, while the Day Guards remained to keep an eye on the visitors until such time as they were back in a less secure area of the castle.

The chief traitor herself paused, exchanging disgusting affectionate gestures with the salmon Pegasus, using her wings, and muzzle, in the abhorrent fashion of the one-forms.

Mercifully, the moment was cut short by the arrival of the princeling Unicorn. He exchanged expressions of mild hostility with both the Pegasus, and the Traitor-Queen. The Unicorn form found she could at least respect his outward show of justified distrust, even if he was on the opposite side of the conflict.

Being an age-old enemy, and food source, was one thing, being a traitor was far worse.

The traitor exchanged another brief kiss with the Pegasus, before gesturing for him to depart. He raised a brief objection, but a glare comprised equal parts of love, reassurance, and scolding sent him on his way.

She likewise dismissed her own guards, who were followed by one of the Day Guards. The male form infiltrator exchanged the tiniest hint of a glance with his conspirator, his eyes flashing green in acknowledgement that he would tend to his tasks, even as the Unicorn form attended to hers.

She studied one of the departing traitor-guards for a long moment, briefly committing to memory the details of her chosen off-yellow chitin, female coded shape, shockingly blue eyes, and muted orange crest protrusions, and wings.

Only the Unicorn princeling, one of the Day Guards, and the Traitor-Queen remained in the hallway. The time to act was drawing close.

Before the princeling could speak, the traitor raised one hoof and voiced her own thoughts.

"I understand your behavior. Frankly, I'm not sure I would respect you if you weren't at least somewhat suspicious of me. But you *will* pay me two respects which I am owed as a guest of your government. You will leave my relationships, regardless of whom they are with, out of this, and you will set your bias aside, and remain open to the possibility that I am *not* like the despicable... *Thing* that tried to replace your mate."

The princeling blinked for several moments, processing the words, before nodding; His face impassive.

"That's fair."

He raised an eyebrow, and delivered his final thoughts over one shoulder as he departed down the corridor.

"I won't blindly put aside the suspicions born of experience. But there is a chance to accomplish something here. If you can gain the trust of Gryphons, I imagine that means you can gain mine as well... Just don't buck it up."

At last, only the Day Guard and the traitor herself were left. The female Unicorn form followed them at a distance of several yards, masking her own hoofbeats by matching the exact cadence of the Day Guard himself. An Earth Pony of approximately middle-age.

As the pair reached a door marking the exit to a less secured area of the castle, and the guest wing where the traitors were residing, the guard proffered a formal salute, then took up position by the door as the Traitor-Queen passed through.

A shiver passed through the not-quite-a-Unicorn as she shed the external layers of the form in favor of the one she had memorized earlier; Off-yellow chitin, beetle-like orange hued wings, and head crests of a similar color, followed at last by a stinging in her eyes as they shifted to an icy blue.

She modified the changes as they swept over her front hooves, extending part of the natural leg guards out into wickedly sharp killing-scythes.

The Changeling rounded the corner in full moments after the completion of the process. The guard looked slightly startled, as they all did whenever faced with such a sight, but offered only a polite salute.

It was a trivial thing. Barely even an exertion. A gesture in passing.

As the Changeling reached out to open the door, she rammed the scythe on her right front hoof home, instantly shredding the Earth Pony's heart. She watched the light of life flee from his eyes so fast, that he didn't even have time to make a sound, beyond the merest of choked gurgles.

For the sake of thoroughness, even though she expected it would never be useful, the Changeling collected a sample of the Pony's life-code, just in case, exhilarating slightly in the warm electric tingle as the governing encoding of his physical form entered into her vast stores, and took its place in the collection.

Finally, the Changeling brought her hoof down and to the side with great force, snapping off the scythe, and leaving it behind, a glittering chitinous yellow dagger in the heart of one of Celestia's finest.

De-morphing the other scythe on the left side, the Changeling moved at a sedate pace down the hall, to the appointed rendezvous with her colleague. Her superior was there waiting for her, bearing the severed head of the traitor-guard whose face she now wore.

"How did you dispose of the rest of the corpse? Did you have to kill the other one?"

The question was aired with total dispassion, and came out in the voice of her previous form as it began, shifting to the voice matching her face as she laid a hoof on the fragment of body, acquired its own unique life-code, and propagated those changes to her internals, and any small external details she had missed.

"The corpse is disintegrating at the bottom of the boiler-fires for the south wing. I was able to separate the two, so the other still lives. Unaware."

The female Changeling nodded, and shifted her concentration to focus entirely on the severed head. A brief flash of light connected her horn, and head crest, with that of her deceased identical twin.

Memories, and the unique thinking pattern of the deceased traitor's brain flowed into the infiltrator, granting her the ability to call on everything the dead doppelganger had ever seen or done in her life, as well as mimic her outward mannerisms, and her thought patterns when connecting to the Traitor-Hive.

It was a delicate skill, more of an art really, walking a fine line of concentration to gather relevant data from memory as fast as possible, while staying natural in the face of those who had known the deceased, and yet not losing one's objectivity and previous Hive-Will to either the personality of the deceased, nor in such a unique case the Hive-Will of the enemy.

As she made the latter connection, the infiltrator was surprised to discover how easy it was. The traitors seemed to value and encourage individuality, and private thought, in equal balance to the connections of the Hive.

What was shared could be controlled. The thought was so revolting the infiltrator had to resist the urge to vomit.

Her superior turned to depart and dispose of the head, tossing a final question over his shoulder.

"Are you prepared?"

She nodded, practicing the inflections of her new skin as she spoke.

"Death, or imprisonment. My will is the Hive's."

Chapter 6

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventh Day, Celestial Calendar

Varan

The chitin spur fell with a metaphorical impact that matched the physical sound as it hit the surface of the oaken table. The vaulted space of the guest chamber echoed with the impact, in spite of the many tapestries, draperies, and other bits of ornate cloth that helped to cut the echoes, and the chill.

All eyes rested on the offending object, from we two Gryphons, and the two Alicorns, to the four guards at the door, as well as IJ and Shining Armor themselves.

Silence lasted nearly ten full seconds, during which IJ fixed Shining Armor with a completely unreadable, unflinching gaze, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

The Changeling Queen was the first to speak, maintaining the appearance of complete dispassion, in spite of the information she had been given moments before. She bore much of that controlled demeanor in common with me, or so I was told. Moreso after her transformation into a repaired Changeling.

"I see."

The Unicorn blinked twice, then stiffened abruptly, a note of distinct anger flaring up in his voice as well as his expression.

"'I see'? That's your first response?! One of our decorated officers is *dead!* An officer who volunteered to protect you, and yours, in spite of the, apparently deserved, reputation your kind carries."

Kephic winced at the visible shift in IJ's stance, and expression. Her response carried an unmistakable edge of steel that had been absent moments prior. I kept my beak blank, but mentally began preparing several options, both verbal and physical, to stem the rising emotional tide of the conversation.

It was already going quite poorly.

"How would you have me respond? With childishly emotional, and provocative behavior, like you? With false apologies for an alleged trespass that hasn't been proven, to assuage your wounded sensibilities? I am a diplomatic guest here, and I suspect less under 'protection,' and more under 'observation,' besides."

The warning note evaporated from the Changeling's voice, replaced immediately with a timbre of surety, and finality.

"I think avoiding an emotional state is likely the best thing I can do to aid objectivity. So the best I can do right now is acknowledge that I understand the information given, and that I understand the delicacy of the matter. Hence 'I see.' "

Shining paused to glower at the marble floor tiles beneath his hooves, pacing and suppressing his anger, yet bracing himself for further confrontation. When he next spoke, it was with a laudable attempt at a flat, diplomatic tone, but the wording itself left little room for pleasantry.

"Every one of your party will be interviewed, and examined by myself. We will also be searching their chambers."

IJ nodded, and exhaled slowly.

"Necessary steps, to be sure. I have no objection."

Shining, Celestia, and the guards all froze in shock, having fully expected a far more confrontational response. Kephic blinked, and tried to reconcile the behavior to his mental image of IJ, while Luna and I exchanged thoughtful glances. We were the only two in the room who had foreseen, and hoped, for such a diffusing answer.

The confusion of the others was put to rest almost immediately, as IJ raised a hoof, and added a qualifying statement in a perfectly calm tone that conveyed such surety, that even I was duly impressed.

"I will, of course, be present for all of this, and have an equal and active role in the investigation, to ensure there is no bias. The same provisions will be extended to my Gryphon... Friends."

IJ's last word came out with a surprising warmth, relative to her usually chilled, distant attitude. There was, however, little time for Kephic, or I, to take special note of it. Our attention was instead riveted to the Prince, whose nostrils were flared wide in a blatant and uniquely Equine show of barely contained rage.

Shining's ears pinned back against his skull, and he leaned across the table, sticking his muzzle directly into IJ's face, his eyes wide and his voice occupying a register normally reserved for geological events.

"Absolutely *not.* Your Gryphon 'friends' are already privy to this investigation. Because they have earned our trust. *You* on the other hoof, I have no reason to trust, and many many reasons to hold in suspicion. As you said, you are a guest. You don't get to make demands."

"Now just one bloody minute!"

There he went again. Always the first into the fray, though increasingly Fyrenn was vying with him for the title of most impatient. To most Gryphons that was natural. I knew I was more of an anomaly. We are not a patient species on average.

Kephic's brow knit, and he took several menacing strides forward, matching the irritation in his tone with action, as he so often did. The guards by the door reflexively tensed, and in turn my brother and I laid claws gently, but visibly against the hilts of our swords, as if by autonomic response.

"*Peace.* We will have *peace* in these proceedings. To do otherwise is to admit defeat already."

Luna's voice carried so much force, that all motion in the room came to a halt. Even breathing, though that resumed swiftly, but cautiously.

Celestia allowed herself a half smile as she stepped to the middle of the room, to the shock of all, though her words soon gave reason to her seemingly unreasonable amusement.

"Truly we live in strange times. A Changeling, for whom Gryphons would draw their swords in defense? Has such a thing ever been seen in history?"

The thought struck every being in the room with a great deal of force, and even we Gryphons were forced to pause for a long moment of introspection.

At last, the tension was shattered by a long, low rumble of a chuckle. With a jolt, Kephic realized the sound was coming from me, and he swiveled his head sharply to fix me with a cocked ear, and a raised eyebrow.

A slight rustling noise struck up to accompany the deep thrum of my usually suppressed merriment, and Kephic realized that IJ was doing her best to contain a silent bout of laughter. The sight proved too much for the speckled Gryphon, and my brother too found himself chuckling quietly, joined by Celestia and her guards alike, after only a moment more.

The amusement faded as quickly as it had arisen, replaced again by a deep gravitas, but the tension that had existed before was gone, as if a cloud of noxious gas had been forcibly expelled from the chamber.

Even Shining Armor, who had not so much as smiled, seemed to be quit of his rage at the very least, instead possessed of a genuine calm that seemed more suited to his station, and which seemed to me to be a better reflection of the Prince's usual level of maturity by reputation.

That idea lodged in the forefront of my mind, spinning outward into a series of new and concerning questions.

The same train of thought seemed to occupy Kephic, Luna, and IJ, though the latter had already traced it much further along than any of us.

The Changeling's face hardened, and she shared a deeply concerned glance with first me, then the Lunar Monarch, then Kephic.

Celestia and Shining both took note of the Hive Queen's altered demeanor, and their ears flicked back in a sign of worry, and confusion.

That worry blossomed into a momentary burst of outright fear, as IJ's horn flared to life with a soft glow, accompanied by a beak-jarring vibrational thrumming. Teal thaumatic energy washed gently over the room, spreading outwards until it coalesced into a mist hanging on the walls, and ceiling, and settling on the floor.

Shining's tension seemed to fully evaporate as the energies came to rest, replaced by a dazed look, not dissimilar to the expression of one suddenly released from the influence of a drug.

By the time the spell was woven, myself, Kephic, Celestia, and Luna had finished following the Changeling's same train of thought through to its conclusion; But it was IJ who lent voice to our fears, and explanation to Shining's confusion.

"We do not merely subsist on emotions, we Changelings... Some of us can also sense them with an empathic degree of discrimination, and then manipulate them by reflecting specific feelings back onto those experiencing them, in order to magnify them to an unusual degree."

IJ raised her head, and looked briefly back and forth between Kephic and I.

"You've both experienced me doing this, point of fact, in that I took any positive feelings you had towards me during the time I was infiltrating your group, and reflected them back at you in order to help suppress any suspicions, and negative feelings you would otherwise have had to a greater degree."

In response to Kephic's confused stare, IJ appended her explanation.

"It works, even on your kind, because it is merely a mirroring of thoughts and emotions you already possess. We cannot add to, nor subtract from, what already exists in content, only in quantity. Neither can we read thoughts, or influence them directly... But sometimes subtlety is enough. It is an art most commonly seen in career infiltrators, of the highest skill levels."

Shining at last regained enough of his faculties to interject, raising a hoof to bring a pause to the conversation as his usual mental acuity, and emotional maturity, began to reassert themselves properly.

"So... You're saying someone in the castle is doing this to us? Right now? And that's why I've felt so... So angry, and hateful, and paranoid, towards you?"

IJ nodded slowly, and spoke with a carefully measured tone that trod a line between soft diplomacy, and the clinical relay of facts, surprising even myself with her nearly-tender expression, by Changeling standards.

"Doubtless. It is also why you had little to no suspicions when Chrysalis replaced your mate. She was almost certainly reflecting your already stratospheric positivity back onto you with so much force, that it overwhelmed all other emotion."

The Unicorn Prince seemed momentarily stunned by the Changeling's knowledge of his past, before realizing that the flow of information in the Hive meant that she was likely more knowledgeable about the events than he was, despite having personally survived them.

IJ rose, and moved from behind the table to stand directly in front of Shining, sitting back onto her haunches to bring her head level with his as she continued.

"Though it is most difficult, even a Gryphon can be deceived this way. You don't know Neyla, but I can testify that she is of exceedingly strong will, and sharp mind. And she was deceived unto love. Your situation is the same as that of most who have run afoul of an infiltrator. No blame is due you, in either case."

Abruptly, the Changeling's usual, frostier air returned, though I thought I noted the tiniest hint of buried amusement in the undercurrent of IJ's tone, even as she rose, and turned to move back to her desk.

"I will not hold your behavior against you."

Shining raised an eyebrow, and suppressed a mirthless chuckle, as if to wordlessly assert that his feelings were at least ever so slightly justified, while at the same time admitting that their previous magnitude was not a true representation of his usual self.

Kephic exhaled, and gestured expansively at the teal mist surrounding the boundaries of the room, airing the questions that still remained.

"You're shielding us, then?"

IJ nodded, and her horn glowed softly once more, the mist dissipating as she proffered further explanation.

"That should no longer be necessary, and would be fruitless regardless. Such a shield is impossible to conjure for multiple beings as they move in disparate directions. It requires static boundaries, and making those boundaries too large is both intensive, and risks encompassing the source you're trying to block out, rendering it pointless."

The Changeling Queen seated herself at her desk, and folded her front hooves on the surface, continuing with her customary mild aloofness.

"Now that you are aware you were being manipulated, you are more or less immune to this specific infiltrator. Our capacity to reflect emotions is not nearly so strong as a Wisp's, and it is effectively useless if you're already predisposed to look for the specific emotions being reflected, in a specific situation."

I added my own thoughts to the ensuing contemplative silence, answering my own most pressing question in the process, and bringing the analysis to a satisfying close. The situation had certainly improved by leaps and bounds.

"Kephic and I were unaffected in this instance, because whomever is responsible for this is reflecting emotions borne of prejudice and suspicion. Since you have earned our trust fully, we do not feel these emotions towards you in any measure, and thus there is nothing useful to be reflected in our case. One could similarly say that their Highnesses, being of open mind and heart, were also less affected as a result."

IJ nodded curtly.

"A logical assessment."

Luna's face hardened, and concern colored her voice strongly, though the words came out evenly, almost flatly.

"Unfortunately, many others in the castle, of high political standing in our Kingdom, are doubtless still being affected. Varan and Kephic are correct; All of this is a ploy to irreparably damage the non-aggression pact negotiations."

Celestia expounded on her sister's line of reasoning, ruffling her wings in disquiet as a grim note quickly drowned out the Alicorn's normally optimistic cadence and manner.

"Regardless of the outcome at the discussion table, this would preclude real and lasting peace between your kind, and ours, IJ. Though my sister and I hold absolute authority in our Kingdom in the legal sense, in this instance the hearts and minds of the public are the real issue. We can legislate as we desire, but real peace is based on mutual cultural bonding. That requires trust."

Shining's ears twitched, and he exhaled in frustration, before finishing out the conclusion of the syllogism.

"I doubt further trust would be gained by having IJ gather the court of nobles into this study, and douse them in her magic, even if that would solve the immediate issue of the reflected emotions."

Celestia let out a deep sigh, and her ears drooped, while the darkness in her tone deepened.

"No indeed. Unfortunately, while many in Pony-kind are quite open, overall our culture is dangerously stagnant, especially amongst the nobility. Many of them are unhealthily prejudiced to begin with, even against different tribes of their own kind. How much more against what seems, at first glance, to be an old enemy?"

After another thoughtful pause, my brother reseated his wings with a loud rustle, and clapped his claws together.

"Right then. There's only one thing for it. We carry this investigation through, properly, and thoroughly, but in secret. When the infiltrator is caught and caged, the effect of their machinations will dissipate, and as long as the nobility never has concrete reasons to give foundation to their suspicions, they can be reasoned with. Outside those in this room, and those involved in handling the scene of the act, only Stan will ever know exactly what happened."

Shining inhaled as if to object to Carradan's inclusion, but IJ raised a hoof, and injected her own viewpoint before he had a chance.

"He is keenly honed in the art of investigative questioning, and his intuition is strong. I have even admitted such, as early as the first days when I once despised him... How much more now? He will also provide another Equine perspective."

For a long moment IJ, Celestia, and Shining traded inscrutable glances. At last, however, the Unicorn exhaled slowly, and nodded.

"Alright then. I don't like holding all of this in secret, but I agree with the reasoning. And I can't... *Won't* argue with the trust given by Gryphons, nor my Sovereigns. I take either as enough, on faith. Let alone both. To say nothing of the fact that the enemy's desire for me to be one thing is more than enough reason to be the opposite on principle alone."

IJ blinked slowly, and inclined her head, voicing very similar thoughts to my own.

"Let us hope, for the sake of my kind, that the majority of your nobles are even half as reasonable, once freed from the effects of the reflections. My species' long-term survival depends on it."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 6th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

"Absolutely incredible..."

I stared through the window as the clouds parted around the descending Javelin. I wasn't alone in my wonderment; Every one of the craft's passengers were plastered to a porthole, giving rapt attention to the spectacle beneath.

From above, the Genesist facility looked as if it were too big to possibly be an artificial construct. Neyla wondered aloud if the complex was readily visible from orbit, swiftly concluding that it must be, given a few rudimentary calculations.

Vast pits marched almost to the horizon in staggered rows, each holding either a ship, or the skeleton of one yet-to-be, equally divided, thirty in all.

Gryphon and Unicorn eyes instantly grasped the true scale of the vessels; We found we could make out individual technicians scrambling over the hulls.

Abruptly, the idea of a quarter million people being launched into space seemed far more concrete than it once had. The weighty concept came to rest on my thoughts with considerable gravitas, and I suspected I wasn't alone in that.

I made a few basic calculations of my own, and concluded that the project would have been impossible in a pre-singularity world.

Machines building other machines, maintaining them, designing them, and intelligently solving problems without external intervention. It was the only way for so many resources to be so efficiently distributed and assembled in such short order.

In spite of that, I could see hundreds of thousands of technicians, loaders, inspectors, drivers, medics, and other various support persons, just from the limited viewport of the Javelin. The cumulative efforts of Human, machine, and Equestrian boggled the mind.

Alyra voiced a similar thought to mine in breathless anticipation. Her own dark experience with technology had never seemed to temper her enthusiasm for the good it could do, though it certainly underscored the bad. I wondered how much of that had to do with growing up in such a technologically infused world, and how much was simply her own mature resilience.

"So many interconnected parts... There must be twenty trillion bolts alone... How do they make sure it all functions smoothly?"

Hutch tapped idly at the window with one finger as he answered. Even though he had been to the site before, it visibly still shocked him on some level, when the scale began to sink in.

"Self-managed learning AI diagnostic systems. Sapient technicians only have to be involved if the computer detects certain special failure cases, or can't reach its own solution for more run-of-the-mill issues."

Aston nodded, and gave Alyra an affectionate pat between her wings, returning my daughter's brilliant smile as she expounded further.

"They've adapted the systems from the infrastructural AI that run city services, so they have a strong basis of proven technology. But still... No one has ever trusted them to maintain such a complex vessel before. Even Naval Ships do half of their troubleshooting the old-fashioned way, at the very least."

Neyla raised an eyebrow, and cocked one ear back. The slight wry upturn at the corner of her beak, and her tone, indicated admiration, mixed with clear relief that she herself wouldn't be forced to trust those same systems as a test subject.

"These are as much cities as vessels, so I suppose the technology applies more here than one might initially think."

I nodded in agreement, suppressing a grin in the process. Neyla was one of only a clawfull of Gryphons I had a close relationship with, who also appreciated Human technology on the same obsessive level I did.

Most of our species took to the concepts with enthusiasm, but her capacity for deeply thoughtful analysis and creativity surpassed even that of an above-average leo-avinid. The word that sprang most readily to my mind was 'genius.'

Neyla, in my estimation, understood more of the things Skye said than anyone else in the group could ever hope to grasp.

The Unicorn shook her head slowly, a manic grin spreading across her muzzle, and dripping into her words like syrup.

"There must be so much processing power in just *one* of those things... Probably the most advanced chip architecture ever devised. Anywhere. And I get to poke and prod."

Exhaling sharply, I tapped the glass as the Javelin swung into a tight turn, setting up final approach, and revealing a new sight in the process.

"Let's not forget the main reason we're here."

The damage cut right through the side of the Shenzhou's loading bay. Carbon scoring arced out across the vessel's starboard nameplate, as if the detonation had picked that particular blast pattern out of sheer spite.

We Gryphons, with our sharper eyes, could see the full extent of the jagged scarring. I immediately realized that it could have been much worse.

The scale of the mess was still shocking nonetheless. The floor of the loading bay had deformed for hundreds of yards in every direction. Multi-thousand-ton pieces hung, half-melted, half-vaporized from the sides of gantries that would have dwarfed skyscrapers. One of the structures was missing entirely above its base.

Nevertheless, the scene of the detonation had been left undisturbed for investigation; The toppled, deformed, charred morass of cargo containers within the bay testified to that.

Skye winced reflexively, and Hutch looked away entirely, as the realization dawned on them that dozens of the smallest items they had thought to be 'containers' were in fact corpses, burned beyond initial recognition as Human.

I clenched one claw around the side of my seat, leaving four divots in the aluminum body of the armrest, and expelling my thoughts through a clenched beak.

"When we're finished with whoever orchestrated this... They'll wish *they'd* died in that explosion too."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventh Day, Celestial Calendar

"I find it very unsettling to think that one of them may be the culprit. I used to do this kind of work, and I don't like to think that one of them might have actually beaten me at my own game."

I shifted uncomfortably on my haunches, giving a rare physical display of the turbidity of my inner thoughts. Even still, the habits of growing up in the Hive clung to me. The reflexive need to keep my emotions hidden. Safe.

Stan glared through the hazy image projected onto the stone wall of the chamber, and shook his head slowly, offering Luna a grim sideways glance in the process, as if to share his thoughts without speaking.

The Lunar Alicorn was the one responsible for the image floating on the wall. Equestria's nearest analogue to a one-way mirror; A spell that could show the inside of a room, from the next space over. Stan had remarked that it was akin to a foggy window suspended within the marble.

When he did open his muzzle, he spoke slowly, and deliberately, in an uncharacteristically grim tone, as Luna, myself, Kephic, Varan, and Shining looked on in silence.

"You can't take any assumptions, or emotions into that room. I spent a *lotta* time around professional liars in my last line of work. Magic aside, or even biological 'hoodoo-voodoo'... This is the sort of person who can get inside *anyone's* head, and play with it. Like putty. The nifty powers are just icing on the cake. You fooled me, in spite of all my know-how, so is it really such a stretch that you yourself could be fooled too?"

My left eyebrow rose slowly, and icy sarcasm bubbled up in my words, tinged ever-so-slightly with the tiniest possible drop of good humor that I could add without becoming overly sentimental.

I wasn't about to admit in front of others how much I enjoyed Stan's surprisingly sharp intellect, or our flirtations based on cunningly chosen words.

"Any more deep and indispensable insights? Smart-flank."

The Pegasus nodded, and jerked his muzzle towards the image on the wall.

"Two of 'em are a similar shade of yellow to our 'material evidence.' And any of them of course have the ability to change color just as quickly as a chameleon. And it might be none of them at all. It might well be anyone, short of their Highnesses, and our fine feathered friends. If they can get around the Princess' protection and detection spells on the city, I imagine they're very clever indeed."

He yelped, and backpedalled reflexively as my teeth deftly nipped into his left shoulder, seemingly from out of nowhere, drawing a tiny rivulet of blood in the process.

With a smirk, I smacked my lips, verifying for myself definitively that Stan's blood carried none of the tell-tale pheromonal traces of a Changeling. Traces only another Changeling would ever be able to detect, without Human technological aid.

It was more or less an unnecessary precaution, and he knew it. An excuse to get in a humorous little dig. I knew him well enough, and knew my kind well enough, to be almost impossible to fool in that way for very long.

"You did say *anyone.*"

Stan stuck his tongue out and glowered, merriment nonetheless seeping through from around the edges of his eyes, and words alike.

"Smart-flank."

I loved his sarcasm. Almost as much as I loved the way that he loved my own harder edges for what they were.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 6th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

"You came. And I see you brought some familiar faces... And some less familiar ones. Do me the honor of introductions."

Martins' words bore an air of surety, as if she had never expected, or even feared, any other outcome.

Fyrenn nodded, and took the Councilor's proffered hand, shaking it warmly, with a matched tone of friendly familiarity in his voice.

"Councilor this is my daughter Alyra, one of my closest friends Skye, who is an exceedingly adept information theorist, and all around technical genius, and my..."

The red Gryphon found himself uncharacteristically hung up on his words. Wheels spun within his brain as I fixed him with a mischievous stare, one eyebrow raised. Daring him to finish the thought the way he had started it.

"...This is Neyla."

It was a weak way to finish the thought, and Fyrenn's quietly embarrassed tone betrayed his uncertainty further still, but Martins covered for it with the swift grace, and smooth, inviting tone of a career politician.

I wished she hadn't. I wanted him to feel embarrassed. Not for the act of referring to me as his mate, but rather for the act of cutting himself off instead of following through.

It was a tantalizing crack in the walls though. Encouraging.

"Welcome. It is nice to meet more of the family, as it were. Aston has told me much about you, and always spoken of you in the highest regard. I'm just sorry we had to meet under such dire circumstances."

Skye dipped her head, and grinned slyly.

"Well ma'am, that's why we're here isn't it? Never fear. Tech support is here."

Martins chuckled, and quietly exchanged a handshake with me, before moving on to Aston with a full-fledged embrace. The two women were practically siblings themselves, and their family ties ran back a generation, as Fyrenn and I understood it.

Aston had originally introduced Martins to him, and the Councilor in turn had been instrumental in making his Conversion possible, from a political standpoint. For that, I think I might have loved the woman like an aunt, or cousin. I would have done almost anything for anyone who had a hand in making Fyrenn what he was. Putting him on a path to intersect my life.

I owed that woman much, though she didn't know it.

Fyrenn smirked internally as Hutch graced the Councilor with a gentlemanly kiss on her right hand.

I guessed he was remembering the General's initial assessment of Martins as a 'snake in the grass.' That's what he told me Hutch's exact words had been. It certainly made for a stark contrast to the moment.

If Human politicians and generals could overcome their differences without threats, or bribes, I reflected, perhaps anything really was possible. It seemed to be turning into a day for hope, if only ever so subtly.

Introductions were truncated as a cutting, frigid gust of wind swept across the tarmac. Martins shivered, and hiked up the collar of her coat, teeth chattering slightly as she gestured to a pair of wheeled vehicles at the landing pad's entryway.

Not for the first time, I was reminded to be grateful for my feathers and fur. I knew Fyrenn, and other converts, felt that gratitude even more often and keenly. I did my best every single day to try and let some of that gratitude for what, and who I was, rub off on me. It was contagious, healthy, and very very attractive.

"Come along then. It'll be warmer in the transports, and I'll have a chance to brief you on what we know so far."

As the group made our way to the vehicles, Fyrenn took a moment to appreciate the complex for the first time from ground level, and I found myself similarly slowing to take it all in.

In spite of the gathering dusk, it was effectively mid-day for anyone within the facility's borders.

The distinct, deeply familiar to anyone who had spent time Earth-side, but still slightly unsettling fluorescent-like hue of the industrial-sized illumibars, cast everything about the trusses, cranes, storage tanks, and buildings into sharp relief. Together with the constant sounds of machinery, and workers, acting in such a vast scale, it left the impression of standing within a massive, mechanical, living forest.

Fyrenn's eyes tracked downwards, falling on the transports, mine followed, and once again we both found ourselves impressed. The vehicles were each large enough inside to seat the entire group, Humans and nonhumans alike, with gull-wing doors on either side that swung away to proffer an entryway that could accommodate two Gryphons abreast.

The first transport was full of security guards; Two Humans, two Gryphons, and two Pegasi, all clad in sleek armor plating with a fascia resembling brushed aluminum.

The second vehicle was empty, and Martins beckoned everyone inside, away from the falling night-time temperatures.

Resembling Earthgov heavy APCs, but with orange strobe light bars instead of armament, the vehicles were effectively one-story tall, two-lane wide matte gray SUVs, with all four wheels attached via crab-claw-like prongs, mounted on blast-resistant suspension devices.

They had clearly been designed from scratch to be utilized by a multispecies workforce, specifically within the Genesist complex and it's specialized roads.

Fyrenn bounded the last four meters to catch up with the rest of us, smoothly truncating the final leaping motion to end up seated by the door, which snapped shut moments later.

With the distinctive throaty whirr of a hydrogen-powered engine, the transport jerked forward, accelerating out onto the central causeway.

Fyrenn stared out through the blast-proofed slit of a passenger window, and shook his head slowly.

"You've accomplished something genuinely spectacular here, Councilor. I don't think it'd be an exaggeration to call it the greatest engineering achievement in history, now that I've seen it from above."

Martins exhaled slowly, her shoulders momentarily drooping, as if the exhaustion buried and put off from decades of sleepless nights had somehow all at once caught up with her. Though her body seemed to cry out for relief, her voice was strong and energetic.

It firmly cemented my opinion of her as admirably strong-willed.

"Bounties and fruits of the singularity. Even with the whole of the Earth's population turned into a workforce, we would have needed a century to bring the project to fruition. Artificial intelligence, and fully machine driven maintenance, manufacturing, and assembly systems, have cut that to less than a quarter of what it could have been in an impossible, idealized scenario."

Hutch exchanged a raised eyebrow with Aston, before directing a carefully worded question towards the Councilor.

"But even so... You would have had to start the design and construction processes before you had functioning examples of the drive cores, and half of the other subsystems... Isn't that a fairly extreme risk to take?"

Martins offered her friend a wry smirk, and directed her gaze to follow Fyrenn's, fixating on the first of the ships as the transport passed into the inner complex. I allowed my eyes to follow as well as she spoke.

"No more extreme a risk than NASA took with Redstone, Mercury, Gemini, or Apollo. It worked for them, it will work for us. It just takes passion, expertise, a deep sense of engineering conscientiousness, and yes... More than a little irrational bravery. No one ever gained anything substantive, in any species' history, without taking some extreme, albeit manageable, risks."

Skye nudged Fyrenn's left wing, and grinned, dropping into a stage whisper, and flicking one ear back coyly.

"I *like* her. She's a go-getter."

I smiled broadly, and nodded my own assent, to both the explicit compliment to Martins, and the implicit idea that Fyrenn could learn something from that bravery, and willingness to take risks.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventh Day, Celestial Calendar

Kephic

"How long has *this* been going on?"

Sildinar closed the door behind him with care, lowering his voice to match the soft, secretive volume of the action.

I jerked my head towards the conjured one-way window, and matched my prince's conspiratorial tone.

"About four hours, give or take. Everything's been explained to you?"

The elder Gryphon nodded, and took up a seated position between myself and Luna, exchanging glances with the monarch, myself, my brother, and Shining Armor each in turn.

Shining lifted one hoof, and gestured towards Stan. The salmon Pegasus was seated beside IJ, watching her work. The Changeling Queen, for her part, had not moved, and had barely spoken, since the beginning of the session.

She remained locked in a mental conversation with the line of guards before her, only occasionally breaking the tense silence for Stan's benefit; Relaying part of a conversation, or a snippet of data.

"No progress thus far, but I'm forced to admit that I'm swiftly finding new respect for your Pegasus friend. You wouldn't find such patience in many of my own soldiers. I certainly had no expectation of finding it in one who seems so... Impulsive."

Varan inclined his head, and glanced sideways at the equine Prince, speaking with the usual deadpan that underpinned his typical understatements.

"Reporter's instinct. Apparently we still have much to learn of Humanity's hidden talents."

Several moments of appreciative silence passed. Then, as if acting by silent agreement, IJ and Stan wordlessly rose, and exited the makeshift interrogation room. Seconds later, the door to the observation chamber opened, and the pair entered.

Stan spoke first, frustration mixed in equal measure with determination.

"This is one tough nut to crack. I think we've narrowed it down by about half, but by golly the innocent sure ain't helping us at all. Seems like they're all lying about something."

IJ blinked, and exhaled slowly, her own frustrations making themselves known in a different, almost disappointed note, tinged with more than a small hint of empathy.

"When you've lived your whole life desiring independence from a forced collective, you can't easily break the habit of being secretive. Closed off. It's what kept you alive for so long; It starts to feel just as essential as breath, or heartbeat. When you try to step outside of it, at first it feels like drowning. The desperation, the need to lie, is reflexive. Even if the only thing you're guilty of is natural emotion."

Shining nodded slowly, and rose. I was incredibly relieved to see him taking IJ at her word. I liked the Unicorn Prince, and I had hated the idea that he might find himself intractably at odds with a dear friend.

"Much as I dislike this sort of thing... You've convinced me that it's the best chance we've got, for now. We're in a hurry, but not so much so that we should explore alternatives just yet."

IJ nodded, and fixed her gaze on the one way window as she responded with her characteristic pragmatism. She had a brain for tactics. Varan and I knew that from experience. It had saved our lives before.

"If we have made no further progress by this time tomorrow, we will be facing diminishing returns, and should begin exploring, as you put it, 'alternatives.' "

Shining inclined his head, then stretched to work out the kinks from sitting on the stone floor for an extended period.

"A reasonable time-frame."

The Unicorn turned to face Sildinar, a much more amenable note entering into his words.

"Good to see you again. When we sent for diplomatic representation, I had no idea they'd be sending royalty."

Sildinar smiled slightly, and ruffled his wings to reseat the primaries, speaking with a similarly familiar, warm manner. His implied trust and friendship did a great deal to immediately bolster my own respect for Shining Armor.

"Good to see you as well. It seems married life suits you..."

After a brief pause, punctuated by a deep inhalation, the roan Gryphon finished his thought.

"Yes, I was selected for this task. It seems that it warrants special attention. My parents, and their advisors, feel that this is an exceedingly important juncture in our history. Not just as Gryphon-kind, but our history as inhabitants of this world. I agree wholeheartedly."

Luna spoke without moving her gaze from the one-way observation spell, her voice holding itself to a low, reverent, slightly ominous register.

"The alliance between our world's strongest economic culture, and its strongest martial one has already risen to be the defining force shaping our route through history. Imagine adding to that a newcomer with the talents and abilities of Changelings, but the free thoughts of free beings."

The concept landed with the weight of a pallet of bricks, bringing an uneasy quiet to the room once again. It gave me pause, in spite of our kinship with IJ. A friend was one thing, in some ways she was closer to family even... But amongst a whole species, there certainly could be bad actors nonetheless.

In the case of reformed Changelings, any potential malfeasance would be paired with terrifying abilities.

On the cusp of the moment's end, a sharp rap on the door startled everyone, drawing all eyes to the entryway.

Luna's eyes narrowed, and she rose, her muscles tensing with all the kinetic potential of a coiled spring, mirroring the warrior readiness posture of the room's other occupants. Her voice was as fraught as a high-tension electrical wire.

"Strict orders were left that we were to remain undisturbed..."

Varan, Sildinar, and I drew our swords, and moved to flank the door in complete silence, with almost telepathic co-ordination, and faultless surety of step. At the same time Shining moved to take up a guard position beside Luna, while Stan did the same for IJ.

A half-second later, Sildinar pulled the door open.

Confusion and relief washed over the room in a peculiar mix, followed almost immediately by indignation on Luna's part.

"Pray tell; What is the meaning of thy presence here? These chambers are presently off limits."

The Alicorn slipped reflexively into formal high speech, staring down her muzzle with no small amount of authoritative irritation at the offending Unicorn. Based on the latter's manner of dress, I guessed that the uninvited visitor was a high ranking lord of the court.

Two Day Guards stood behind the lord, to either side of the doorframe, maintaining respectful silence. The Unicorn himself looked flustered, and more deeply confused than anyone else in the room.

"Mmm... M'lady I beg your pardon... But I was told you had *sent* for me?"

Sildinar's eyes narrowed. He, of all the room's occupants, had the most in the way of real-world tactical experience, and the most practice using it in the clutch. It was natural for him to arrive at the correct conclusion first.

His head whipped around, shoulders swiveling in turn, so he could fix his gaze on the one-way window. All eyes followed his within a moment. The sight was so startling, that I felt the feathers on the back of my neck rise of their own accord.

Perched directly by the wall, staring right into the room, as if she could see through stone, sat one of IJ's Changelings; One of the few in the group with a yellow hue, her eyes were unmistakably filled with triumphant malevolence.

A foul green glow emanated from the spaces between the Changeling's ribs, pulsing, and growing with each heartbeat.

IJ and we Gryphons knew the danger instantaneously, from sheer depth of experience fighting the Hive. In an instant, the tense pause and silence of the preceding moment was shattered.

"DOWN!"

The thundering of Sildinar's voice was followed immediately by a sharp impact from his wings, shoving the lord and his guards into the hall, and forcing all three Ponies to the floor. Even as the Gryphon Prince dove to protect those closest to him, Varan and I moved to do the same for Luna and Shining.

Summoning from pure reflex, honed by training, the Unicorn Prince erected a thaumatic shield, placing himself, Varan and I, and the lunar monarch, inside a nearly impenetrable bubble of energy.

IJ conjured a similar form of defensive magic, forcing Stan behind her, and raising both wings. Glittering blue-green walls of force followed the leading edges of the limbs, expanding out into twin overlapping shields that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling.

Most of the interrogation room's other occupants managed to raise small defense shields for themselves as well, but three were not so lucky. Whether due to slower reflex, or lack of thaumatic will, they were caught unprotected.

The yellow Changeling went up in a vibrant green flash, which was followed in a microsecond by a tremendous overpressure wave. Stone, liquefied steel, and wood shivers flew in every direction, propelled outwards on a blast equal parts sickly green, and fiery orange.

The entire disaster was over in less than two seconds, though it felt like an eternity to those of us with a dialatable sense of time. We Gryphons, and IJ, had to watch helplessly as three innocent Changelings were incinerated. Their chitin, normally able to stave off all but direct sword blows, and even small detonations, dissolved into dust under the sheer force of the blast.

Sildinar and his charges had been protected by distance, combined with their prone positions.

Though the blast had pushed IJ to the opposite side of the room, the Queen remained in a half-standing position, down on one knee, with Stan pinned below and behind. Scraped and bruised by his voyage, but otherwise unharmed.

Shining's bubble had collapsed almost immediately after the blast, and the Unicorn lay on the floor wincing, his horn still glowing slightly from the strain.

Dust rained down from above. The connecting wall between the rooms had been atomized, and in the process had absorbed no small part of the explosion. Had it not been there, I guessed that most of us would have perished, regardless of defensive spells.

Structural beams, charred chitin fragments, and bits of stone lay everywhere. Most of the remaining walls were carbon scored to a shade of coal black. The main chamber door in both rooms was mostly gone, and any remains still burned with small greenish colored fires.

Stan spoke first, spitting blood from a busted lip, and dust, from his muzzle in the process.

"Buck."

I preferred the similar, and more forceful Human term.

Fuck, indeed.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 6th, Gregorian Calendar

Skye

Fyrenn let out a long, low whistle through his gritted beak, a carryover Human habit if ever I saw one, running one claw along a carbon score mark as he stepped slowly into the remains of the loading bay.

Alyra pressed into his side instinctively, reacting with visceral emotion to the number of body bags strewn across the cavernous metallic space. I didn't blame her one bit. Gryphon or no, the sight had to hold some familiar bad memories.

I didn't want to have to think about it any more than she did. But it was the reason we were there, and I knew I'd have to get close to do my job. Make sure it didn't happen to anyone else.

Neyla, myself, and the others moved further into the bay, picking our way through debris and corpses as we began an initial visual assessment. The near lack of shadows, resulting from the arc lights set up to replace the destroyed recessed illumibars, gave the whole scene an eerie, clinical aspect.

Fyrenn nodded towards me, speaking as he reflexively placed one wing over Alyra. He knew his daughter well enough to know that she wasn't scared, but rather struggling to choke back sadness, and anger.

A natural, even desirable response to that kind of senseless destruction of innocent life; The young Gryphoness was just not quite yet old enough to know how to fully control the physiological reactions to her deepened emotional states.

"Two kilotons, or thereabouts?"

I nodded, my gaze sweeping the compartment as a whole. As ever with military matters, his instincts were spot on. I knew for more engineering and mathematically driven reasons that his guess was right. He knew because he'd seen more than enough craters and bodies in his time.

"Give or take a ton. Centered on the bay doors. That implies the scanning equipment set it off, in turn implying an electronic sensor-based detonator. Idiots miscalibrated, or improperly installed the EMF shielding."

More than a little anger crept into my response. I was not, and never had been, anybody's stereotypical happy-go-lucky little Pony. Consequence of a rough upbringing. Combine that with all the things I'd picked up from spending so many years around Humans and Gryphons?

Whoever had set that bomb didn't know it yet, but they needed to be more afraid of me than of Fyrenn.

Neyla spied a small fragment of plastic alloy out of the corner of her eye, and bent to retrieve it, putting considerable force behind her claws to extricate the small orange shard from the floor. Her evaluation was also spot-on, as expected.

"Piece of the crate. Probably from the corner. Something dense was packed near the explosive to hide it from imaging scanners, and combined with the rigid shape of the edges here, it helped preserve this fragment."

The Gryphoness tossed the object across the bay to Fyrenn as she spoke. He caught the slice of material deftly, and turned it to and fro in the light, airing his own thoughts in the process, which more or less mirrored mine.

"Orange. An engineering components designator color. This was intended for the drive section of the ship, which would have placed the fully armed explosive very close to the power core."

I winced, shaking my head slowly as I did 'napkin math' internals. My voice echoed slightly from exposed ceiling girders as I finished Fyrenn's train of thought to its logical conclusion.

"If it had gone off further inside the ship, it might have severed critical structural members, or much, much worse... Depending on the volatility of the power generation system."

Hutch grunted, and took the small piece of plastic as Fyrenn proffered it to him, adding his own grim assessment as he glanced at the evidence. He was a good officer; His thoughts immediately went to the risks to life and limb of the crew.

"Regardless, the shockwave would have absolutely killed every single person, in every compartment, if it had originated from a central point and expanded inside a sealed pressure vessel. That's for sure. We got very, very lucky."

Martins raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and exhaling slowly.

"We concluded the same. It took us about six hours of analysis and scanning, but yes... Exactly that. Clearly you all spend quite a lot of time dealing with this sort of thing. I don't envy you."

She was right. I wished so badly that I could leave some of the more tragic stuff I'd seen to the bird-lions. But Fyrenn's engineering know-how stopped if you went beyond the bounds of weapon and defense technologies. Neyla might have been smarter than me, she was at least equally gifted, but her education just wasn't the same as mine.

I had the equivalent of multiple Human and Equine STEM degrees, so I had to tag along on little field-trips like that one. Who else was going to make sure the science got done right?

I gestured with a hoof towards one of the internal access doors, a small amount of excitement rising in my voice, and expression, in spite of my best efforts at professionalism. My best coping mechanisms had always been rooted in curiosity.

And it would be a good excuse to get away from the bodies.

"May we see the ship's power core?"

Martins inclined her head, and stretched out an inviting arm.

"I had a notion that would be your next question."

Chapter 7

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 6th, Gregorian Calendar

Skye

"This is remarkable...."

Fyrenn brushed the side of the metal cylinder with one claw. He had a habit of doing that with inanimate things that interested him. As if to cement its reality in his head, or something like that.

I mentally noted its nearly twenty meter length, and two meter diameter as he swiveled to face Martins once more, and asked my next question for me.

"...What's the total weight?"

The Councilor inclined her head, and raised both eyebrows. The figure surprised me initially, to the point that I thought she might have gotten it wrong. Human memory could be frighteningly inaccurate.

"Four hundred and thirty five metric tons."

I blinked, narrowed my eyes as I did some more quick math, then shook my head as I stared into the intricate layers of filament contained within the core's central chamber. A gorgeous engineering achievement if ever there was one, but there was no way it was that light.

"Not possible. That would mean you were able to reduce the density of matter-antimatter containment equipment to a preposterously low figure. Most high-end superconductors are incredibly dense, and difficult to shape like this. The technology doesn't exist, not even in the most experimental university labs."

I knew. I'd been inside more than one of them.

A new voice rang out through the darkened chamber, taking all but Martins by surprise. She was the only one who didn't swivel her head.

"That's because it isn't merely Human technology. This is as much a thaumatic generator as a Terran technological one. The unique handling method also significantly reduces the danger in the event of a reactor breach; In most failure-modes, the antimatter stores are shunted right out of our plane of existence when the containment field is terminated, regardless of cause."

The newcomer Unicorn stepped out of the hatchway, and proffered me one hoof.

"I'm Astris. The Councilor's attache."

Martins snorted as I reached out to bump Astris' hoof. She interjected before anyone else could reply.

"Attache doesn't do him justice. He's a world-class astronomer, adept mage, and not a bad physicist either. Unfortunately his responsibilities these days are mostly logistical. But he does that at a world-class level too..."

I inclined my head and smiled slightly. He sounded exactly like my kind of geek.

Alyra cut into the silence next, a look of confusion matching her flattened ears, and bemused tone. My own ears perked reflexively with excitement. That kid was a dynamo; Whenever she opened her beak, she had insights that could match or exceed any of ours.

"Hang on. If the whole point of packing the explosive device in an engineering crate was to get it into this compartment... But the reactor is designed to be safe, even in an explosion... Then why go to all that trouble? Why not pack the device in a better-shielded scientific equipment container?"

Aston ruffled the feathers between Alyra's ears, and offered the young Gryphon a wide grin.

"Good catch kiddo. The obvious answer is that they thought they could do more damage this way. What's less obvious is why they thought so..."

Neyla peered into the center of the reactor cylinder, as if the prying heat of her gaze could somehow re-ignite the fires within. When the Gryphoness spoke, it was a slow, measured statement. Again, that excitement. Of all the people I'd ever talked to, Human or Equestrian, who weren't university educated, she'd been the only one who really 'got' Quantum Physics.

"I'm not a physics expert, but I've finished my fair share of JRSF competency training courses. Couldn't you theoretically trigger a runaway reaction by timing your explosion correctly, and ensuring the detonation occurs so quickly and violently, that the failsafe is rendered useless?"

Astris shook his head firmly, and his muzzle tightened into a resolute mask of well restrained, but still obvious frustration. I even thought I detected a tiny hint of patronizing in the Unicorn's voice.

Minus ten points. Wrong turn buddy.

"No. The containment system is a positive interlock. All the antimatter, and the ongoing reaction, are suspended in Thaumatic fields generated by these filaments. The field is slightly out of phase. When it collapses, everything inside is pushed out of this plane of existence; Absorbed into the lowest inert levels of ether as pure Thaumatic energy. Even a small breach in the casing, or a minor crack in a filament, will cause this to occur. What you're describing is impossible."

I knew my face had lit up with the telltale glow of inspiration. Everyone always told me it was almost as comically obvious as a lightbulb going off.

I could practically feel the gears turning upstairs as something Neyla had said took root, and about three dozen pages of mental equations finally started to converge.

I brushed past Astris with a bit of a definitely not intentional flouncy tail-flick against his nose, moving directly to Neyla. Alright, it was one hundred percent intentional. I didn't bother to address him anymore, directing my thoughts mostly to Neyla.

"No... No it isn't impossible! You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, you brilliant bird-brain."

Neyla offered a confused, but interested glance first to Fyrenn, then Martins, Hutch, and Aston. I continued unabated, even as Astris snorted in consternation. I didn't want to give him the hoof-room to butt in.

A brilliant blue wireframe of energy exploded from my horn, filling the room with the finished equations, and a small scale model of the ship, with the reactor core highlighted.

How Human engineers got anything across to each other without the innate ability to turn thoughts into images was definitely a testament to their determination, and languages.

"If you vaporized all the filaments at once... Mind you not cracks, not blowing them to pieces, but instantly reduced them to their purest components, you would get the same effect as if---"

I stopped abruptly, put one hoof to my forehead, and shook my head, trying to both maintain the lightning-fast train of thought, the magical projection, and simultaneously translate my findings into something a lay person could comprehend.

Images and equations were great, if and only if your audience had some kind of context. I changed tack. Half of being a good engineer is being able to communicate well with people who aren't.

"...No, picture it this way; If you pull a tablecloth out from under fine china fast enough, it stays right where it is. Newton's laws see to that, if you balance the equations properly. Same kind of thing here. But we're not talking about glassware. We're talking about Antimatter."

Spinning, I triumphantly jabbed one hoof into Astris' chest, seemingly oblivious to his offended expression. I know that Fyreen, at least, knew better. His smirk told me so. I was just extracting my own small petty revenge for Astris' patronizing demeanor toward Neyla. He deserved it.

The equations suspended in my holographic field began to expand, almost without limit, keeping time with the increasingly furious pace of my words. Stan says I could put professional auctioneers to shame.

"Now, it will be *Thaumatically charged* antimatter. And suddenly suspended in a theoretical, natural, unconstrained field. The antimatter feeds the Thaumatic energy, which in turn bleeds inefficiency of an imperfect, imbalanced transference off as heat and light, which in turn overloads the containment field. The antimatter touches the expanding gas cloud that used to be the side of the reactor core, and..."

My hologram abruptly vanished in an expanding ball of light. The brightness was significant enough that all but the Gryphons were forced to shield their eyes. I'd done that very much on purpose. Sometimes your audience needs some visual impact to get the point.

As soon as the eruption had come, it was gone. Silence fell for a moment. A pause for dramatic effect, as well as my own processing to catch up, before I finished the thought in a much slower, more somber tone.

"...If my math is right---"

Neyla proffered a sharp glower at Astris as she briefly interrupted. Bless her, that sister of mine.

"It always is."

I sighed, and winced. The number I'd arrived at was more than a little upsetting.

"...You'd be looking at two hundred and sixty three. Gigatons. Of explosive force."

Hutch broke into a short fit of uncontrolled coughing, and for a moment I thought he might vomit. Fyrenn went in for a hearty back slap to try and help the General keep it down. Aston sat down hard against the wall, murmuring softly.

"That's enough explosive force to..."

Fyrenn finished her math, and then her train of thought. Somehow when it came to explosions, he was passable at math. And his conclusion was exactly right.

"To wipe out the entire region. And if you set off one of these, on each ship, at the same time?"

I shook my head, and sat back on my haunches, filling in for him where his arithmetic had started to break down.

"You'd toast most of Africa, at a temperature that transforms lead into liquid. You'd have to stand on the facing surface of the moon to be able to see the entire explosion in a single field of view. Your total population casualties wouldn't be that bad in relative terms, given the low density of inhabitants here... But the EMP would circle the globe ten or twenty times at full strength. Even hardened military systems would be wiped out irrevocably."

For almost a minute, no one spoke. Martins was the first to break the deep contemplation.

"Are you telling me that we've inadvertently built a cluster of Human-civilization-ending warheads for the PER, positioned in the most ideal location to suit their ends?"

I exhaled slowly, and nodded, borrowing a word from an old acquaintance that seemed to sum things up nicely.

"Eeeyup."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventh Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

I closed my eyes, and focused as hard as I could on the soothingly mundane sounds of the room. My left ear twitched reflexively as a log snapped in the fireplace. It was such a weird thing to get used to, the way those fuzzy little protrusions seemed to have minds of their own.

But they grew on ya. Literally and figuratively.

The rustle of Gryphons' feathers mixed softly with the crackle of ice wrapped in linen cloths, as their own wraps were pressed against sore muscles, or bruised spots.

Occasionally the dissonant note of hooves shuffling against fabric, as Shining reseated himself, or the soft rasp of IJ's chitin wing projections, interrupted briefly.

I steeled myself, knowing what was coming, then twisted his neck firmly to the side, wincing as pain arced down the muscles, then sighing in relief as it abated into a dull sore throb. Gingerly, I raised one hoof, icepack balanced carefully on the tip, and pressed it to the pain's epicenter.

Gooly that was some good relief.

No one in the room had spoken since the group arrived; Guess no one felt any particular need. There was more than a little bit of anger, frustration, and concern, but it was all directed decisively outward, towards whatever nameless intruder was still jerking our collective chain.

Slimy bastards. Trying to paint my fiance as some kind of murder insect.

I don't think I'd quite forgiven prince high-and-mighty for his previous tone towards her yet. But I was getting there. Almost being blown up together is a great way to get over your differences with someone. It's worked for me before.

All heads turned as the door to the kitchen opened. Celestia and Luna entered, seating themselves wordlessly, and setting about making tea with a clearly practiced expertise, even as every other gaze present, mine included, drilled into them, willing them to answer unspoken questions.

After the sisters at last exchanged a doleful glance across the surface of the huge, rough-shorn oaken table, it was somehow silently agreed that Celestia would speak first.

As her sibling spoke, Luna finished making all eight cups of tea, and distributed them with shocking speed, balancing each cup simultaneously in her thaumatic field with no effort whatsoever.

Very very occasionally, I envied the Alicorns and Unicorns that power. But then I'd always remember that I could outrace a tornado, even in the worst shape of my equine life, let alone when I was in top form. Given how good hooves and mouths actually were for handling delicate things, I always decided that I'd never make that trade if it was offered.

Flyin is just too damn fun.

"The good news is that we have persuaded Lord Tackethane to give us time to complete our own full investigation before he briefs the rest of the government on this... 'Occurrence.' The bad news is that we had to enlighten him as to our murder situation. And we agreed upon a deadline of forty eight hours."

Shining grimaced, and levitated an icepack away from his forehead.

"All, or nothing then."

Luna nodded once sharply in affirmation, her voice clipped, and confident, but somber.

"All or nothing. Our Royal standing, and the presence of our trusted Gryphon allies have bought us more leeway than we could have otherwise expected. Now our first question becomes---"

I interrupted reflexively, reporter instincts kicking into overdrive by force of habit as my train of thought got up some steam.

"Who is the other infiltrator? Someone outside that room had to have been in cahoots with the walking bomb, and known how to ensure there would be the worst possible witness present to see a Changeling ally presumably trying to murder him, and one of his Royal Sovereigns."

IJ shook her head slowly, taking a small sip of her tea and fixing an empty patch of the kitchen's spotless stone walls with a vicious glower. Her voice was frighteningly calm. I knew her best, and I easily detected the telltale undercurrent of rage at the foundation of her words.

I was willing to bet Kephic and Varan caught the tail end of it too, though I doubted they knew just how angry she really was. When my gal was well and truly pissed, even the devil would piss himself, and run.

"We know one thing now which we did not before. One of my trusted defenders is slain. Replaced."

We all fixed the Changeling Queen with curious gazes, each in our own way, from the trusting query of the Gryphons' cocked heads, to the unreadable masks of Shining, and his Alicorn rulers, down finally to my half-smile that I hoped would provide a little encouragement.

IJ elaborated without shifting her own middle-distance death-glare. She was headed nuclear. I almost pitied whoever was going to end up on the receiving end. But boy howdy I wanted to make sure I got to watch all the same.

"We... This new-old kind of Changeling... We are not capable of the technique needed to turn ourselves into a, for lack of a better term, 'walking bomb.' The needed mechanisms are part and parcel of the bastardization of our lifecode that keeps us enslaved to the Hive."

Shining raised an eyebrow, then winced, and pressed one hoof to a cut on the bridge of his muzzle.

"Wait. So we have a case of Changelings, disguising themselves as Ponies, and somehow bypassing all safeguards we've put in place to detect such things within the castle... For the express purpose of then mimicking *other,* different Changelings... In order to try and discredit this alliance, by convincing everyone that there's actually no difference between them..."

Sildinar nodded slowly, and inclined his head, raising his tea cup as he responded. The drinking vessel, designed for dainty Equine state functions, appeared comically small in his weathered, muscular claws. Those were claws that had definitely been inside a few enemy skulls before, though I thought I also spied the effects of years of other, less violent hobbies too.

Maybe woodworking, and cooking. Those seemed to-type for him.

"An accurate assessment. The Overqueen clearly sees IJ's 'little' rebellion as a significant risk to the future stability of her reign."

I raised a hoof, remembering to be a little more polite, before tacking on a correction to the Gryphon Prince's statement.

"Her species, even."

Varan stared down into the slurry of remainders in his teacup, twitching one ear in thought.

"Fascinating."

Luna exhaled slowly, and her gaze fell, along with the mood of her speech. I didn't like it when the Alicorns were depressed. That was almost as scary as when the bird-brains were.

"Effective as well. If we cannot uncover clear proof of Chrysalis' motives, and machinations, in ironclad detail, then our battle in the court of opinion is lost. It will not matter if there is no proof, and even reasonable doubt, that IJ and her guard were complicit. The suspicion will be a seed of darkness powerful enough to uproot the entire negotiation."

Kephic flexed his claws around the bottom of his teacup, soaking in the warmth of the liquid as he spoke. Some things were just universal whether you had a frog, fingers, or claws.

"Then we need to find a body."

One by one, the rest of us in the room began to nod as we caught on. I took the silence as license, and elaborated anyways, giving a voice to the general internal train of thought. Being a reporter you pick up a surprisingly competent knowledge of basic forensics.

"Riiight... We know at least two someones have been replaced. We know who one of them was, so we even know exactly what we're looking for. Chitin, and bone, neither can be reduced to anything easily disposable without applying a lotta heat... Unless they disintegrated the corpses with magic?"

I shot a questioning glance at IJ, who shook her head, even as Luna beat her to the verbal explanation, to my immense relief.

"Such spells are energy intensive. There is no way, whatsoever, that one could have been cast without my notice, anywhere within ten miles. Let alone twice within the same structure."

Shining held up a hoof, and tilted his head to the side.

"Question for our feathered friends. I've heard it said that it takes about the same heat required to melt iron to disintegrate Human bones quickly, and nearly thrice as much for the bones of Equestrian species, on average. True?"

Kephic nodded sharply, and gestured to the kitchen's central ovens. Now there was a little factoid I didn't know. I made a mental note as cookies-n-cream-feathers took over the exposition.

"Yes. In Human terms, that's about one thousand, five hundred 'degrees' in 'celsius.' Or about half the temperature of our best alloy forges. You can do it with much lower temperatures, but it takes time. Days. Weeks. Depending. But who would notice? Kitchen ovens and heating boilers usually have a thick layer of ash and partially spent fuel in the bottom, and..."

The speckled Gryphon's voice trailed off, and all our eyes moved inexorably to fixate on the kitchen fireplace.

Luna spoke without shifting her gaze.

"We must search every hearth, boiler, oven, and forge in the castle. Immediately."

Oh boy. Scavenger hunt. One of my favorite party games.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 7th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

I groaned, and stretched as I placed my right claw onto the access panel. Across the hall, a soft beep issued forth as Neyla did the same, and further down the corridor the unmistakable 'snick' of magnetic locks heralded Skye, Hutch, and Aston's departure towards short but blissful rest within their own guest rooms.

Much of the night was gone already, but we all knew the unspoken truth, relayed to us by a myriad of sore muscles and aching heads. Skipping out on sleep entirely would prevent us from being fully alert, and proficient, for the remainder of the investigation.

The energy debt of travel had to be paid, at least in part. Or else.

Alyra bent, cocking her head to one side, as the room's door slid back. A small stack of DaTabs lay on the floor just beyond the threshold.

I shook my head, and scooped up the thin slabs, taking a few steps into the room and unceremoniously dumping the miniature computers onto the desk. The space was spartan, yet quite comfortably appointed; Designed with minimalist, but discerning sensibilities.

"Mail. I'll worry about it in the morning. Most of it's probably junk."

I had half a mind to just brush the entire lot into the recycler. I wasn't even an Earth citizen anymore. What kind of mail could I possibly be receiving, besides junk mail? Almost everyone who mattered to me was either in the building with me, or in Equestria, which ruled out personal correspondence.

As I collapsed into a heap on the bed, I unstrapped my sword, and laid it against the headboard, forcing the rest of my thoughts out verbally, through a yawn.

"You don't have to get up early with me tomorrow. If you want to sleep in, then don't let me wake you as I go."

My daughter shook her head, and gently placed her new sword beside mine, before leaping gracefully over the edge of the bed, into a curled bundle of fur and feathers tucked into my side. One of my favorite perks of parenthood. The peace that comes from hearing the breathing of my child as she drifts off to peaceful sleep.

As I carefully placed one wing over the young Gryphon, she smiled and shook her head, giving birth to a gaping yawn of her own, before voicing her response.

"I asked to be here, so I want to be helpful. Or at the very least, I want to learn everything I can."

I smiled, and laid my head to rest on my forelegs, exhaling deeply and letting a sense of peace wash over me as my daughter nestled down for the night under my left wing.

"That's my girl."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Eighth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

"Conduct any examination gently. It's definitely been in the fire for several hours. The connecting joints have started to turn brittle.... And her head was... Removed. It looks to have been thrown in some minutes later than the body itself."

Kephic laid the corpse on the empty surface of a wooden work bench, gingerly folding back the cloth containing his grim find. He did his best to avoid making eye contact with IJ as he delivered his warning.

Celestia and Luna looked on mutely, flanking the grim-faced Princes of Equine, and Gryphon kind.

For my part, I forced myself to watch the Changeling Queen's expression, as the charred but still largely intact corpse of her guard was revealed; Her yellow chitin marred extensively by black and gray heat scoring.

Those unfamiliar with IJ might have characterized her expression as cold, or dispassionate. The Gryphons and I knew better. Her tension, and anger, was so powerful it practically hung in the air as a dark mist.

Pity the moron who started something they could never hope to finish.

I knew IJ best of all, and to my experienced eye, her rage was not so much that of a friend angered by personal loss, as that of a leader, furious at losing someone under their protection, and command.

I exchanged a worried glance with Shining. The Unicorn Prince seemed to have caught on as well, which made sense given his own furor at the loss of one of his own.

It suddenly hit me that the two of em, Changeling and Unicorn, were more alike than either would yet admit out loud. Maybe there was hope for the Prince after all. If IJ decided not to hate him, I'd never really be able to hold anything against him. Maybe I'd get another drinking buddy out of the mess after all.

Varan raised an eyebrow, and pointed with one talon, listing the points of his initial assessment with his usual Vulcan clinical precision, his voice echoing through the empty armory.

"She fought very hard to survive, but it was over swiftly; No one heard, or saw anything. The beheading happened post-mortem. The fight took place in close-quarters. There are no small defensive wounds, only major trauma points, the majority of which seem to have been made by a sharp, curved object. Almost certainly a Changeling attack spur. Together, that indicates that the aggressor approached in a familiar form. Something that lowered her guard..."

The golden Gryphon trailed off abruptly, then reached out to turn the corpse over, with utmost care. I thought I even saw a hint of sad tenderness in the motions. Id always known it, but it never ceased to surprise me, seeing how much those guys cared for others, especially other warriors, no matter how distant the relationship.

That little observation was quickly subsumed by rising concern, as I saw what Varan, and his brother, were after.

Kephic asked the question aloud, to which I think we were all very nearly sure of the answer already.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Sildinar reached to one side, and lifted a day-guard foreleg gauntlet from a rack of identical gleaming gold metal plates.

Uh-oh.

Wordlessly, he placed the alloy metal plate up against a perfectly matching divot in the dead Changeling's neck chitin.

Shining uttered a single, resigned, frustrated word, as the obvious implications sank in. The sheer Humanness of his phrasing drew a wry, worried glance from me.

"Damn."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 7th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

My eyes snapped open just in time to see the clock on the wall strike 06:30. The dimmed red projection occupied the corner of the otherwise blank wall-screen which dominated one side of the room.

As I stirred, motion sensors in the ceiling detected the movement, and the room's ambient light level began to rise gradually, starting at a comfortably dim amber.

When my wing moved, Alyra rolled over, stretched, and yawned. Her eyes blinked open, and she offered me a warm smile, speaking only after another fit of yawns, each more endearingly sweet than the last.

"I call dibs on first shower."

With a smirk, I gestured expansively with one claw, and put on the best British accent I could force.

"As you wish, your highness."

She stuck out her tongue as she leapt off the bed, chuckling quietly to herself as she slid open the door to the bathroom.

I turned to the discarded stack of DaTabs on the desk, and began to sort through them as the sound of running water filled the room. I mumbled aloud to myself as I sorted the thin plastic wafers, most of them colored a simple generic gray.

"Junk. Junk. Invalid tax documents..."

Buried towards the bottom of the pile, a green colored DaTab caught my eye. Plucking it from the pile, I turned it over briefly in both claws. It had a telltale white stripe through the forest green field; It was certified priority legal mail.

The date stamped in silvery holotext on the back left corner indicated it had been sent almost four months previous.

That gave me pause. I spent a long moment wondering what the contents of an official legal document, mailed through the Earthgov postal system to me, might be.

It was something important enough that when the official JRSF flight itinerary had listed the Genesist complex as my destination, the DaTab had been forwarded there by a special private courier. A red sticker affixed to the front glass testified to that.

Beneath the small red 'DCHL Shipping' sticker, a second white tag indicated that the sender had requested formal notification of receipt. Powering on the DaTab would likely send that notification automatically.

Pitching it in the recycler to be chipped for components and raw materials would most certainly not.

After a momentary pause, during which I wrestled with his gut, I decided that there could be little real consequence to powering on the device. I had no official Earthgov citizenship, and so there was no chance whatsoever that any Earthgov legal proceeding could touch me.

Curiosity won out.

With a flick of one talon, the paper-thin computer sprang to life. A logo occupied the screen for the first three seconds; 'Mitch & Surrie - Attorneys at Law.' The moment the emblem vanished, plain white text on a dark gray field populated the screen.

I was able to read the entire document in an instant, and parse it logically in half that time again. The emotional impact didn't arrive until fully three seconds later.

Gently, I switched off the offending object, and set it neatly into the desk's single, minimalist, empty square drawer, which I then promptly locked. Mostly to add an additional barrier to the instinct to snap the damn thing in half and put what was left into the chipper.

I then lifted the remainder of the DaTabs in a single three inch thick stack, and snapped the whole cornucopia of bills, advertisements, and assorted miscellany, in half.

Then in half again.

It wasn't enough catharsis. But it was a start.

Finally, my claws ground the supposedly shatter-proof plastic into a collection of talon-sized flakes and chips, which I dumped unceremoniously into the recycler. Like I should have done for every last one of them from the start.

I knew my face betrayed my emotions. I was never as good at keeping them down as Kephic, let alone Varan, or even Sildinar. I also knew that I needed to stay on task for the moment.

By the time Alyra had finished her shower I had managed to plaster on a carefully constructed sense of calm. I was proud of myself for that. I even managed a small smile in response to her own radiant grin of excitement, as I in turn headed for the showers, and she went to begin her morning sword practice.

Privately I wished that my turmoil could be washed away as easily as the grime of travel, under the tide of hundred thirty degree shower water.

Then I began to imagine jamming the source of that turmoil into the boiling stream, and turning the heat up until the offending person's face melted off. That made me feel slightly better.

But only slightly.

Melting his face off was always an option.

Alyra

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated."

Martins gestured towards Dad, who began to make his way to the front of the room, along with Neyla, Skye, and Aston. Hutch had volunteered to sit with me, towards the opposite end of the conference room's large granite slab of a table.

The remaining spots at the table were filled mostly with Humans, and Ponies, representing the department heads of the first wave of ships, and the heads of the permanently stationed ground crews.

The Councilor introduced the group as they took up places on either side of the oval room's curved wall-screen.

"Given the severity of the recent attacks against this organization, and given the clear pattern of escalation, I've asked an old friend for his help. He is an expert in asymmetrical warfare, tactics, and weapons. He brings with him experts in science, programming, tactics, information theory, thaumatics, and field command, all of whom are deserving of your absolute trust in these matters."

Martins raised an eyebrow, and gestured with one hand, seating herself gracefully as she finished the introduction. I liked the way she talked about Dad, and Mom, and Skye, and Hutch. She seemed like the sort of person who would be a good friend. The kind of person Dad always surrounded himself with.

"You've all been briefed, in utmost secrecy, as to the potential consequences of failure here. Today's meeting is about developing a definitive short-term action plan. I am, as of this moment, turning joint leadership of this crisis over to Fyrenn, and his team; I will not consider any solution to be too drastic in this instance, and I expect the same level of non-linear thinking from all of you here. There are no stupid ideas, except the ones that you keep to yourselves."

Dad took a moment to survey the expectant faces assembled at the table; Three dozen of us in all, counting Hutch, Martins, and me. After a brief glance at Mom, he began speaking with a firm, definitive, frighteningly clipped tombre.

"You have only one option here. Get those ships off this planet. By the end of the week."

He scanned every face in the room, twice from end to end, as a shocked murmur broke out. After several seconds, he raised one claw for silence, and elaborated, with an expression that clearly indicated he would brook no argument.

"If you decommission the drive cores now, you'll fall catastrophically behind schedule. Who knows when you might find a solution that renders them completely safe, assuming you ever would. They could still be used against the Earth, if not physically, then certainly politically. Your only option is to launch now, and to succeed."

One of the department heads, a woman with silver-gray hair, but lively youthful green eyes, interjected sharply.

"Assuming we could pull off accelerating the launch schedule by three weeks, which is an exceptional risk to the crews I might add... What stands to prevent the PER from enacting their plan with the next set of drive cores? Or the one after that?"

Neyla was ready with an answer before anyone else could even draw breath to add their own thoughts.

"The PER won't stand for allowing even one group of ships to leave. It represents a direct strike against their primary line of ideological attack. All you have to do is publicize the accelerated schedule. Then they will come to us."

One of the Ponies, a young male Unicorn, shook his head, and snorted, eyes widening in shock.

"You want to bring them here, *on purpose?!*"

Aston folded her arms, and inclined her head towards Dad.

"I'm not always a fan of his tactics... But I would be lying if I said they ever failed to accomplish the objective. In this case? I agree with everything he's got to say. Bring them here. Face them on *our* terms. And put a permanent stop to them. Any other course only invites future disaster."

She was making a smart move, throwing her weight of command behind him. What he and Mom had suggested was certainly the only way I could see that made any sense. Basic tactics. Make your enemy come to you rather than going to meet them on their terms.

Neyla nodded, and smirked, chiming in again before anyone else could, to drive the point home.

"We Gryphons have a saying; 'Cut out the heart of a Hydra, and none of his heads matter.' We always plan, in every battle, to win every possible future engagement then and there if possible. Reel your enemy in, and brutalize them on your own terms. Mercilessly unto death. When they are least expecting it. You will never be troubled by them in the future."

Astris spoke up from his position to Martin's left, narrowing his eyebrows in frustration. His attitude bothered me. Not the kind of 'can-do' I had come to expect from Ponies. And he was supposed to be a bit of an egg-head too. Maybe I was just biased because of Auntie Skye, and her effortless sense that anything was possible.

"We are engineers, and scientists. Not warriors. We're not equipped to fight a battle."

Fyrenn reached over Martins' shoulder, and tapped a key in the table's embedded controls, bringing the wallscreen to life. Schematics for weapons, vehicles, and armor flashed across the display in rapid succession.

Martins picked up on his point, and narrated on his behalf, cinching the crux of the argument pretty well for everyone.

"We are sending these seeds of our species out into unknown, potentially hostile space. We know there's a high probability that intelligent life exists out there, since we've already met some of it. And we know at least some of that life is hostile. You all know as well as I do that we never intended to send our progeny out into the dark without arming them. To the teeth, and beak, and muzzle."

Dad nodded, and gestured at the screen with one wing, folding his forelegs definitively.

"Shenzhou isn't making this launch, and that's a known factor. That leaves armaments, fabrication devices, security personnel, and even combat vehicles, available and ready to defend this facility."

Skye snorted, and raised an eyebrow, glancing up at one of the schematics.

"Heck, you people designed this stuff to be used on worst-case hellworlds. Most of it could function on the surface of *Venus* if it had to. That puts it a couple brackets *ahead* of any Earthgov hardware, let alone what the PER can bring to bear. So what if you only have a couple dozen of the defense tanks and APCs... You haven't seen what these Gryphons can do with just *one* tank..."

I knew exactly what she was talking about. She had told me the whole story. It was one of my favorites.

Silence fell. Though many of the department heads and board members traded uncomfortable glances, none of them could find a good objection. Dad nodded sharply, and Martins toggled the screen to a planning overview of the complex while he spoke.

"Alright then. We have three objectives. One; Secure this complex militarily, and plan for a forthcoming attack. Two; Regain OpSec, and complete the sabotage investigation, to ensure that the remaining ships are safe, and any remaining saboteurs are caught. Three; Plan for the logistics of an accelerated launch schedule, so we can get these ships out of here by twenty three hundred, day after tomorrow."

Martins raised an eyebrow, and gestured expansively towards the room.

"You heard him. Who wants to put forward some thoughts first?"

There were only three other Gryphons in the room, and the eldest male raised his claw.

I guessed that he was approximately Dad's age; He had primarily gray and brown feathers, and his golden eyes were narrowed in determination. When he spoke, his voice carried a strong North American accent, suggesting that he was a convert. His words confirmed it.

"Ex-Lieutenant William McBride; I've got some experience with tactical armored divisions. Let's talk about deployment options."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Eighth Day, Celestial Calendar

"There are *how* many Day-Guards in the castle, at any given moment?"

Stan raised an eyebrow as his query landed squarely in the middle of the group. The lights of Luna's study were dimmed, but the inexorable glare of the sun was doing its best to peek through the blackout drapes.

None of us had slept at all during the night.

Shining's brow furrowed, and he sat back on his haunches, exhaling in shared frustration, and exhaustion. The faces of the rest of the group bore similar signs of weariness, some I could sense more exaggerated than others.

"One thousand two hundred and fifty. That's the official standing deployment order, based on my strategic plans for daily defense, from my days as Guards' Captain, which are still in use if I'm not mistaken. There can be anywhere between one and five hundred *further* conventional guards-ponies here on any given day, due to training, or the fact that the Castle is a major logistics hub."

Stan shook his head slowly, and his ears flattened, along with his tone.

"Well, obviously we can't search, interrogate, and turn over the barracks of over one and a half thousand guards. And that's discounting the notion that our face-phasing friend shed their most recent look, and got the 'eck out of Dodge. Or put on a bat-Pony face instead perhaps...?"

He directed a sideways questioning glance towards Luna, who immediately shook her head. It was, I thought, a very good question given the context of what he knew. But I'd served long enough on the Castle grounds to know why the answer would be no, even before Luna finished elaborating.

"Silly nomenclature notwithstanding; My blessing that I give to the Night Guards, makes them able to sense the presence of that same magic amongst each other. For precisely this reason. If the intruder were that foolish, they would already be captured."

Sildinar raised a claw, and cocked his head to the side, airing his train of thought even as it developed. Gryphons very often did that. Both the airing of their thoughts as they were still being formed, and the bird-like head tilt.

"It wouldn't make sense for the intruder to shed their Day-Guard aspect. Not yet. They haven't accomplished their objective, which is to derail the alliance pact... Being among the trusted military guards of the Royal Family is most certainly the best position from which to wreak further havoc. Yes?"

I nodded firmly, and allowed myself a very brief sideways approving glance, directed at the roan Gryphon Prince. As usual, his tactical acumen was above average, even for a species who were so deeply steeped in martial tradition.

I even allowed my tone to have some unconcealed respect for his observation.

"Very astute. Yes. Speaking as one tasked with a very similar mission, once, I can tell you that their Highness' greatest security weakness has always been the insistence on avoiding magical augmentation and screening of the Day Guard. They're by far the preferred infiltration vector."

Celestia sighed, and to my eye she seemed to lose a tiny bit of the glow in her mane. Varan exchanged a worried, stealthy, microsecond of a glance with his brother, which only Stan and I seemed to catch.

Both brothers had been present when the Solar Monarch had expended herself almost to the point of death to save Vancouver.

In our shared estimation she had never fully recovered, and was still struggling in some manner that Luna was not, in spite of the younger sister's own slow progress. Luna had at least been steady, if slow in her recovery from saving Canterlot.

I'd felt the very slightest tremors of the backblast myself, far underground as I was at the time. Shunting that kind of energy off the material plane was no small feat.

As Celestia spoke, I internally concluded that there were high non-zero odds that she was essentially faking her recovery.

"It is a long standing tradition. We are not a martial race. We win our battles through economic, and diplomatic means. To heavily militarize, screen, and augment our population-facing forces would send the wrong message."

Shining shook his head slightly, but held his tongue out of respect. Luna, and Sildinar, both seemed to catch the tail end of his barely concealed frustrations. Based on their expressions, and what I knew of their own thought processes, they shared those frustrations in full.

In my time undercover at the castle, Luna had often discussed the various weaknesses, and losses, that stemmed from keeping the Equine military largely ceremonial.

I felt no need to restrain my newfound sharing in those frustrations, and I was quick to make my point. Firmly.

"Keeping tradition, when you know that it puts those same people you're trying to defend at greater risk? Is futile. And stupid. In the extreme. This is why, for years, you've been wholly without intelligence regarding the inner workings of the Hive, but they have had virtually unrestricted access to information about *you.*"

I gestured with one hoof in the direction of Sildinar, Kephic, and Varan.

"Were it not for them? You'd be dead already. The Gryphons are the only race both geographically positioned to fight Chrysalis, AND willing, AND able martially. And they can't protect you forever. Militarily, yes, but politically no. One day, your insistence on tradition is going to see you off to Tartarus, by way of a chitin spur buried in the back of your neck while you sleep. You've already come perilously close, more than once before. Why tempt fate?"

A thick, uncomfortable quiet fell over the study. Outside, the sounds of Day-Guards marching in drill formations in a courtyard added an ironic underscore to the moment.

As quickly as the tension had come, it was gone. Celestia sighed once more, and hung her head, shaking it, and speaking in an almost defeated tone. She knew we were right, she was simply struggling to admit it to herself.

"We have strayed from our topic. Now is not the time for recriminations regarding the past, or squabbling over the future; Now is the time for dealing with the issues of today; The immediate danger of the here, and now."

At least her recalcitrance was not borne of arrogance, the same way it was within the upper echelons of the Day Guard itself. I could at least respect that she felt bound by principle. My former 'superiors,' on the other hoof, I'd found to be a slack jawed collection of prancing self important morons.

Sildinar inclined his head, and rose, stretching his wings, and twisting his neck to relieve cramps as he interjected forcefully, but warmly.

"Yes. And none of us are any good to our tasks dead on our paws. I suggest, strongly, that we all get at least three or four hours' sleep. We can approach this with somewhat fresher minds later in the morning."

After a brief moment, in which it looked as if she would object, Celestia nodded. Once again the Gryphon Prince proved himself to be a highly practical, cunning leader.

Luna nodded as well, and with that the floodgates opened, and the group streamed from our seats towards the door.

In the corridor outside, the majority of us paused to converse in smaller gaggles, and pairs, as Celestia's hoofsteps receded down the corridor towards her own quarters.

When he was sure she was out of earshot, Shining spoke up, addressing Stan, myself, and the Gryphons.

"None of you are really all that tired, are you?"

Sildinar scoffed, his pretense of cramps and exhaustion having shed away like a snake's old skin.

"Do you jest? I've known *you* to stay awake for four days on end, when the crisis was serious enough. What do you take us for?"

Stan raised an eyebrow, and grinned, catching on to the point of the ruse quickly. Not for the first, nor last time, I was quietly thankful that he had the good sense to follow on with a charade, even before he knew its point or purpose.

"We're gonna go play detectives now, ain't we?"

Kephic nodded sharply, and clapped Stan on the back firmly.

"Absolutely."

At last. Real progress. And to think the Hive hated Gryphon-kind so much. They were turning out to be the best allies anyone could ever wish for.

I was swiftly starting to realize why Celestia bent over backward to stay on solid terms with them.

Chapter 8

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 7th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

"...And I'm telling YOU, there is NO conceivable way to load THAT much antimatter in THAT kind of TIMEFRAME! Unless you WANT to turn this entire complex into a CRATER!"

Neyla stood, and interjected sharply, snapping her beak to get the room's attention, and cutting off the Human woman before she could continue inciting her colleagues.

"ENOUGH."

Silence descended like a sodden blanket, extinguishing the fires of frustration; Replacing them with a healthy appreciation for the very real physical dangers associated with provoking a ticked off Gryphon.

Neyla continued in a firm, but much less angry tone. I savored every chance to watch her lead. She was a natural like almost no one else I knew. Even more so than Sildinar in my estimation. Perhaps I was biased.

"We should all take a few minutes for breakfast. Then divide into smaller teams, each with specific tasks."

Martins flicked the cover of her DaTab shut, and nodded emphatically, rising and straightening her suit in the process.

"Hear! Hear! I think it's safe to say that being grumpy when you're hungry is a universal constant. Take fifteen, people. Then we'll meet back here to split into action groups."

Before I could even finish standing, and stretching, Alyra had bounded from her seat, right over the center of the table in a graceful arc, and landed beside Martins.

Looking up at the Councilor with childish enthusiasm, and a smile that practically oozed youthful curiosity, she launched into her clearly long-held request.

"I was wondering if, maybe, I could get a tour of one of the ships? Not many people are going to get to see these things up close, and I want to be one of them!"

I raised a claw to object, almost reflexively, but Skye leapt to Alyra's rescue before I could put words to thoughts.

"I'll tag along. No reason we can't mix business and pleasure!"

Martins nodded, and gestured towards the door.

"Alright then! We'll call it an extended working lunch. Fyrenn, I think you and Astris can handle divvying up team assignments."

Alyra glanced back over one shoulder, face falling slightly in anticipation of safety related objections. Skye proffered me a covert wink, unseen by all else, as if to say 'No harm will come to her. Relax.'

Exhaling slightly, I nodded, doing my best to smile. Alyra's giddy expression of joy, and instantly renewed sense of energy, made it all worth it. Skye's approving smile was just the icing on the cake.

I reminded myself, forcefully, that Alyra wasn't a Human anymore, and that in terms of maturity she was no fledgeling either. She was deadlier than most anything a Human could throw at her, and growing by the day.

Between the three of them, Alyra, Skye, and Martins, I would have bet those women could have crushed an HLF division on their own, with nary a spot of backup.

It was time to trust that warrior spirit I knew they all had, and worry about things which deserved my concern.

As the three ladies departed, chattering animatedly in engineering terms which I only dimly grasped, I began scanning the room for Neyla.

My face fell briefly, before I made a conscious effort to plaster an expression of professionalism to my beak, and subsume my emotions once more. Neyla was already deeply engaged in a logistics discussion with two of Martin's highest ranked Humans.

My revelation would have to wait.

Damn.

I hated waiting.

Especially when it was life-altering decision making.

Alyra

"Lights. Viewer on."

At Martins' words, the bridge was instantly transformed. Consoles sprang to life in standby mode, a dim, pleasant amber hued light issued forth from hidden diffuse sconces, and the forward screen came alive.

The view of the Shenzhou's berth was projected across two hundred seventy degrees of the ovoid shaped space, starting below and ahead of the forward stations, and stretching all the way up over the apex of the roof at its highest point.

To my eyes, though it was clearly an illusion, it still gave the distinct impression of standing on a small metal pedestal suspended in the middle of immense gantries and buttresses.

Skye whistled, and stared up at the grey clouds, suffused with teal afternoon light. Her voice betrayed a breathlessly youthful demeanor in equal measure to her starstruck expression.

"Imagine what it'll be like to see space through this!"

Martins smirked, and stepped forward to the nearest standing console, entering a series of commands on the touchscreen with practiced ease. In response, the voice of the computer issued forth in a firm, but soothing cadence.

"Displaying orbital weather platform Delta live feed: Sensor Cluster Seven."

One moment the bridge seemed to be just another platform in the midst of a steel jungle, the next it was a tiny island in a sea made up half of stars, half of a vast teal, gray, and blue orb.

The visual impression of motion was distinct, and awe inspiring. The orbital path of the weather sensing satellite, combined with the front-facing camera viewport, made it seem for all the world as if the ship itself were aloft, and circling the globe.

Both Skye and I reflexively gasped. Clearly neither one of us had ever been inside such a large holo-dome before. I couldn't even recall ever seeing a high resolution image of the planet of my birth on a small screen, let alone such an immense holographic canvas, with such a convincing three dimensional aspect.

To my surprise, I felt tears forming in my eyes, of their own volition.

The satellite's position on the opposite side of the world hid the barrier bubble from view, and the angle of the sun was just right to cut the ugly teal of the ruined atmosphere with a scattering of true sky blue.

The sensation of scale, of distance... It struck a chord that went beyond the scientific, or the mental. What Dad called a spiritual experience.

"We're so... Small..."

Skye placed one front hoof over my shoulders, and leaned in affectionately.

"You can say that again kiddo."

Wordlessly, Martins stepped around the console, and let herself down into a cross-legged seated position on the other side of me.

After that, none of us uttered a word.

No words were needed. The sight, and the feelings it provoked, were beyond words.

Was this what it had been like for Garagin? For Glenn? For Tereshkova, and Ride?

The sentiment was keenly felt, and deeply shared; A desire to look on the world as it was, in a way that few would ever see it.

To see it in a way that, soon enough, no one ever again would.

And commit it to memory forever.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

"So we agree then? This is what we're going to plonk down in front of them and say 'This is the best plan we've got,' all in?"

I sat back on my haunches, stretched, and then yawned in spite of a solid effort not to. Predawn gray was slowly turning into the golden fingers of first sunlight, indicating the Royal Sisters were awake, and tending to their duties already.

IJ nodded slowly, and thumped one hoof against the table around which we conspirators sat.

"Absolutely. They need this, as much for their own safety in the long-term, as the short term. This is an arena of warfare with which I am intimately familiar, and if this task were mine to complete for the Hive? Then one of them would be my next target. In as public, and gruesome a fashion as possible. A statement, and a challenge."

Shining held up a hoof, and shook his head, fighting back a yawn of his own, his ears flattening briefly in the process.

"You'll get no argument from me. I've been pushing for this for years. Our future is more uncertain than ever. If the world is going to change, we have to change too. I spent years protecting them, and this city. I'll back any play that furthers that goal once more."

Ok, so maybe tightpants McPrince wasn't so bad after all. I was warming to him. Slowly.

Sildinar took a deep draught of coffee from the warm tankard clutched in both claws, before adding his own thoughts, backed by the rustle of his wings shifting reflexively. I'd come to find that a comforting sound, whether it was my wings, their wings, or IJ's.

It reminded me I wasn't alone. In the best way.

"Luna will side with us. Of that I'm sure. She's reached out to me through diplomatic channels, and back channels at least twice a year every year, trying to get something like this to happen. The only one we really have to convince is Celestia."

Kephic snorted, and twirled a nut idly on the edge of one index talon, eyeing the half-depleted bowl in the center of the table.

"She won't like it. Not one tiny bit."

Varan inclined his head, and raised one eyebrow, his voice reaching for an uncharacteristically optimistic register. If the Vulcan was bein' optimistic, the odds were definitely in our favor.

"She is stubborn, but we've seen her under pressure too, and we know her to be reasonable in the face of logic, fair to a fault, and capable of pragmatism in the service of her own. Especially when the danger is so clear, and present."

I chuckled slightly at the Gryphon's unintentional filmic reference, before holding out a hoof over the center of the table.

The outstretched limb was swiftly covered by two more hooves, and three golden claws. I'd always wanted to do that.

I grinned like an idiot, exchanging a sly wink with IJ as I spoke once more, to which she gave only a cursory good-natured scowl in return. For her that was tantamount to a passionate kiss.

"This is gonna put the Police Academy remakes to shame. Ready? Break!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 7th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

As the door to their quarters slid open, Fyrenn offered his daughter a warm smile, and words so sincere that he almost believed them himself. I knew differently. But only just.

"Go on and start your evening practice. I'll be with you in a minute or two. I just need to work out tomorrow's logistics with Neyla."

For once Alyra's obsession with playing matchmaker would be of great use to him. As a distraction. I, for my part, had always encouraged her machinations. I wanted so badly to call her daughter, and for it to be official.

The young Gryphoness grinned, and winked mischievously.

"Take aaaallllll the time you need with Mom, Dad."

The pointed way in which she delivered the last two words was not lost on me, nor on Fyrenn. As he turned to follow me into my quarters, I gave him a sly wink as well.

Fyrenn held up a claw, and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you start."

The second the door closed, Fyrenn's demeanor reverted to an open expression of his anxiety, as did mine.

Something had been bothering him all day. It would have taken another Gryphon to see it, and one that was deeply familiar both with him, and with the nuances of hidden emotion. Alyra, for all her familiarity, was not yet so experienced that she could pierce that veil.

I raised one eyebrow, and gave the sort of look that could speak volumes without words.

Fyrenn's words came unsteadily at first; In spite of his emotional growth, he still seemed to find it difficult to share certain pains, or worries with others. I just wished he didn't find it so difficult with me.

"I... I received a notice of legal action this morning."

My head cocked sharply to the side, and her eyes narrowed reflexively.

"I thought---"

Fyrenn held up a claw, and shook his head, his voice steadying itself under pressure from his anger.

"It's about Alyra."

I blinked sharply, and my ears pinned backwards. Scenarios for a quick evacuation from the planet began to fill my mind, almost as quickly as plans to find and annihilate the source of the 'legal action.'

Fyrenn continued unabated, tearing off the proverbial bandage as quickly as he could.

"Apparently a sample of her blood, taken while she was Human, was recovered when the Military Integrity Commission disassembled Echelon Twelve operations in Connecticut. It was automatically submitted to central medical records, and generated a match."

He exhaled slowly, and shook his head, visibly trying to hold on to some small release of tension from sharing the information that had been consuming him all morning.

"Her birth-father is alive. He was formally notified of the situation, as Earthgov law apparently requires. He wants custody."

A pause ensued. The words landed in my gizzard with the force of a ten ton concrete brick.

All at once words tumbled from my beak like water in a brook, as my emotional logjam began to clear, to the point that Fyrenn had to hold up a claw to stop my train of thought.

"But he *can't* just demand to be allowed back into her life can he? And what about criminal charges for his abandonment... For all their disgusting attempts to cut the heart out of the family unit throughout history, Humans still require parents to care for those they birth, do they not?! And then what about---"

Fyrenn sighed as I snapped my beak shut in frustration and anger, using the momentary silence to collect his own thoughts, before proceeding in a dour tone.

"No, he hasn't got the right. By Earthgov law yes, but only if she were still a Human. Her only citizenship lies with the Kingdoms now, and those laws take precedence."

Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, and a tiny mischievous glint entered into one eye briefly, before snuffing out once more.

"In theory, I could sue for his execution under our code of family honor and responsibility, and I'd have a solid chance at winning. But that wouldn't help matters, politically, or in the familial sphere."

I felt, to the contrary, that they would help political matters immensely. As far as I was concerned, he whom I wished my mate had been far, far too merciful and reserved in his dispensation of justice. I would have had no objection to an outright invasion and forced disassembly of their 'Council' in blood.

Fyrenn looked up, and locked eyes with me. I softened my expression, and gingerly set myself down beside him on my haunches, placing one wing comfortingly over his back as he continued to speak. Bad as the situation was, I took some small part of my mind and heart aside to treasure the moment of contact. He allowed so few of them.

"She has a right to know. I can't withhold that from her. I won't. You don't lie to family that way, even if by omission alone. I couldn't live with myself if I did that."

I nodded, and kept my gaze fixed on Fyrenn's, doing my best to summon a comforting tone of voice. I didn't think myself particularly good at giving comfort verbally, no matter how many times Fyrenn and Alyra both said otherwise.

"I know. I don't think you'd be able to be one of us if you were capable of that sort of deception against someone you call family. So what are you frightened of? That she might want to get to know the man from whom she came?"

Fyrenn tensed visibly, and I had to bite back the urge to move away as I felt his muscles tighten down into veritable steel rods, buzzing with power, and rage, and fear. The electric thrum of tension was fully audible in his voice as well.

"Exactly. I have *no* room in my heart, or my life, for the kind of scum who abandons a child, and her mother. I haven't got it in me, God help me, to even offer simple forgiveness for that sort of behavior. I don't care if he's different now or not. And I know he isn't anyhow."

Again I cocked my head to the side, flattening one ear, even as the other stood on end, and my crest feathers rose reflexively out of curiosity.

Fyrenn sighed, and shook his head, before answering; Staring out the room's slit of a floor to ceiling window, into the concrete maze beyond, as he did so.

"I screwed up the wherewithal, during one of our meeting breaks, to log in with the temporary investigative access credentials Martins issued us, and do an extranet search on him. He has convictions for domestic violence, assaulting officers of the law, drug dealing, gambling, and con artistry, some of them as recent as a couple months ago."

Both of my ears pinned back, and the subtle foundation of a growl formed deep in my chest as I began to dredge up my JRSF tactical classes on how to kill Humans, and apply the mental images vividly to the imagined face of the man we were discussing.

Fyrenn continued unabated. I could spy a tenth-second flash of an appreciative smile on the left side of his beak as he did. I knew that he had some idea what was going through my mind. I also knew he dearly wished I would act on it, and would do nothing to dissuade me. And I also knew it would in no way be what was best for Alyra. Not yet, at any rate.

"He doesn't want to get to know her because he cares. That's clearly apparent. If he did, he would have come here when he found out she'd be here. No. He wants custody for two things."

Fyrenn held up a talon, to underscore his point, the distant orange glow of a gantry light sparkling off the wickedly sharp edge.

"First, he wants the Earthgov safety-net payments that all impoverished parents of children under eighteen are entitled to. Probably to gamble them all away. I pulled his banking and credit records, and he's in very deep with both legitimate, and criminal interests. To the point that his life is probably in danger. Too bad he isn't dead already..."

A second claw snapped out, in a way that pointedly illustrated Fyrenn's desire to bury it deep into the eyeballs of the man to whom he referred. Had he but said the word, I would have happily done it myself.

I was still contemplating doing it regardless.

"Second, he wants her for the automatic Conversion sponsorship. With a criminal conviction sheet like his, he would only have Ponification eligibility through basic mercy and forgiveness clauses in the Conversion Accords. No other race would be allowed to take him, even if they were willing, by Earthgov law. Unsurprisingly, they're not keen on violent criminals being handed an arsenal of biological weapons scarier than any standard combat rifle."

Fyrenn rose, shrugging off my wing gently, and began to pace, trying to diffuse some of his tension into his movements, as he finished the grim thought.

"But with her? He'd have his pick. Any other race, especially the martial and unscrupulous ones, would be happy to court ties to someone whose daughter is a Gryphoness. And Earthgov law must give way, because she would make his circumstance a 'special mitigated case.' I checked."

I rose to join Fyrenn, again placing myself beside him. He sat once more, and again allowed me to place a wing over his shoulders as she spoke. We both agreed, silently, to simply take comfort in each other's physical closeness, and worry about other emotions later.

"But even if she wanted to see him, don't you trust her to see him for who he is?"

Fyrenn nodded, and exhaled, his voice nearly cracking at the emotional strain.

"Yes, of course! She's brilliant, and intuitive, and loving, and sweet... And I can't *stand* to see her go through that pain. And what if it fundamentally changes our relationship? Or what if this is the final straw that pushes her over into bitterness, and reclusiveness?"

I pulled Fyrenn in as close as I could under one wing. For once he didn't even think of pulling away. I had very little emotional headroom to savor the moment, but I spared a sliver nonetheless.

Anxiety consumed my every thought, spilling out into my words in spite of my best efforts to remain steadfast and comforting.

"Well... There's no way of knowing until, or unless, it happens. You don't know. She may have no desire to see him at all. As hard as it is to, as Humans say, 'sit on this,' you shouldn't say anything to her until our task here is over."

Fyrenn nodded, and sighed a final time.

"Agreed."

For a moment we sat, bathed in the pale, harsh light of a million illumibars; Neither of us having any desire to move, nor break the silence, each desperately trying to quiet our spirits.

Each of us hoping to draw some sliver of comfort from the other, before heading off to a fitful rest. He at least would have his daughter by his side. I would be alone. Again.

I wondered not for the first, nor last time, whether a point had finally been reached where I could reach out and pull him fully into a relationship.

Or whether the point had finally been reached where it was time to admit that day would never come.

Chapter 10

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

I glanced furtively over first one shoulder, then the other, before rapping sharply on the door with my hoof. Wouldn't do to get caught early on by an eager comrade in arms.

One short, two rapid-fire 'longs,' and another two shorts.

After a moment of tense silence, the supply room door whipped open, and I was practically yanked inside by the guiding grip of a familiar set of talons. The second the door had been closed once more, a lantern shutter opened with a soft 'snick,' and the room was illuminated with dull candlelight.

I exhaled deeply, stretching first one wing, then the other, as I removed my blue crested golden helmet, and cracked my neck from side to side.

"What a day... No one besides her Majesty there has ever worked me that hard in a training sesh."

I inclined my head towards IJ with a smile as I spoke. She offered only a tiny smirk in response, then returned to her previous activity; Sipping small, constant draughts of water from a large stone tankard.

My gaze lingered a moment, and I smiled more widely inwardly. I was finding IJ's return to such a familiar shape to be comforting. It made her seem more approachable, though I didn't dare say that aloud, on pain of death for my poor ol ribs.

With Shining Armor, Sildinar, Kephic, and Varan also in attendance, our group filled the dimly lit supply room near to bustin', occupying nearly every square meter of the cobblestone floor.

Kephic proffered a newly filled tankard of fresh, frigidly cold water, which I accepted gratefully. In spite of that base instinct to begin guzzling the refreshing liquid, years of time spent with Gryphons, and Changelings, had taught me more than a few useful tricks about the way my body worked.

Instead of indulging, I copied IJ's slow, steady, small sips as Shining Armor spoke, switching his gaze between each of us in turn.

"Given how much experience you two have, I wish you could be instructing, instead of drilling. You've both had years to adapt everything we're trying to teach here to make sense for Equine form, and function. It would make things go much more smoothly."

Varan raised an eyebrow, chiming in with his usual deadpan.

"That would be self-defeating with regard to our more critical objective."

Kephic shrugged with his wings, a Human-like gesture he had picked up from Fyrenn, that I still found tremendously funny. So much so that I had to choke back a splutter of laughter, disguising it with an enormous belch.

The speckled Gryphon ignored the sound, giving voice to his own thoughts without so much as a pause as he glanced at the Unicorn Prince.

"Well, you might get your way soon enough."

Kephic's gaze shifted to Sildinar, and all our eyes followed. The roan Gryphon nodded slowly, and his tail swished from side to side in anticipation.

"We can't afford to draw this out. Our enemy has a distinct advantage, being one among thousands, with any conceivable route of attack open to them. We have the disadvantageous position, being few in number with many different weak points to secure."

Sildinar stood, and shook his head slowly as he began to pace in what little floor space was left for movement.

"We have to be more intentional about this. Set a proper trap. An opportunity not to be passed up, that will funnel our enemy directly into our line of fire. Force them out into the open. Use what few advantages we do have to force a confrontation as soon as possible. Trade an unknown risk, for a known one."

Shining grimaced, and shook his head, a note of weary acceptance, tinged with more than a bit of frustration creeping into his words.

"I doubt I'm going to like this suggestion."

Sildinar grinned wryly.

"No, indeed you will not."

Somehow I knew I wouldn't either.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Hutch

Illumination bars sprang to life, one after the other, casting an antiseptic white glow over two rows of identical gray cylinders, each roughly the size of a loaded duffle bag. Fourteen in all, filling two long tables that took up most of the ordinance lab.

Martins whistled, and shook her head slowly. Fyrenn stepped forward and cautiously hefted one of the devices. I noticed, as he spoke, that it had a sticker like each of its thirteen other twins, denoting it had been safely disarmed.

"How did you accomplish this in such a short time? These could have been hidden *anywhere,* and it would take a lifetime for two people to search just one of those ships..."

Skye smirked, and glanced cross-eyed up at her horn before answering.

"Science. Magic. Admittedly a little guesswork and inductive reasoning. And Neyla's very sharp eyes, and instincts. I got us close, to within five square meters, she nailed the actual bag-n-tag within three guesses. Every single time."

Neyla grinned, and thumped the little tan Unicorn affectionately between the shoulders. Geez those two were scary together. Once again I found myself glad they were on our side.

"Don't let her kid you. Without her device, and her very unique skills, this whole endeavour would have been pointless. She found a way to use spooky interaction to trace the unique electromagnetic signature of the triggering device, in spite of all shielding and interference, based on nothing more than data reconstruction and recursion from the original blast site. Figuring out which un-creative hiding spot the bombers were using was trivial once we had it narrowed down to one or two compartments."

In spite of myself Igrinned, and raised a closed fist, which Neyla, and then Skye both struck with claw and hoof. I didn't do a thing to hide the admiration in my voice. They'd earned every lick of it, and then some.

"Damn fine job you two. You really pulled the bacon out of the fire on this one."

Martins nodded as Aston chimed in with her own thoughts. She was rarely impressed, so her compliments meant even more in that light.

"You two might have just revolutionized the fields of forensic investigation, and security, where explosives are concerned."

Neyla took the device from Fyrenn's claws, and held it up to illustrate her points as she spoke.

"Save the celebrations for later. Like the first device, these were all two kiloton yield particle-disintegration warheads. Unlike the first, their EMF shielding was packed correctly. Every single one was secreted close enough to the ship's engine core to cause prompt-critical failure of antimatter containment."

Skye's face fell into a dour grimace as she picked up the train of thought, her words as cold and hard as the steel surfaces of the room's tables.

"I did full digital and Thaumic-information-theory forensics on every digital access point the perpetrator or perpetrators needed to use in order to place the devices..."

An unpleasant pause hung over the group. I could feel what was coming in my gut. Martins crossed her arms, and exhaled, ending the stale moment with a wry observation.

"But you're not going to tell me who your suspects are. Too risky."

Skye nodded glumly. Neyla's eyes narrowed, and she placed the fourteenth charge back onto the table, pacing to and fro as she spoke, her tail swishing side to side in agitation, ears pinned back.

"We *have* narrowed the suspect list significantly. We are primarily concerned with the architect of the disaster. We're fairly sure they use several other infiltrators, both Human and Pony, on the base, to accomplish their tasks. The underlings don't have authority, nor the necessary command codes to act alone. If we cut off the head the body will, by necessity, die."

Skye picked up once more where the Gryphoness left off, in a similarly dour note. Things were just getting rosier all the time, I reflected internally with no small amount of sarcasm.

"The architect is deeply placed in the command structure. We have less than a dozen names on our list. But we can't just throw them all into a brig until after the launch. If they know we've recovered the devices---"

Alyra briefly interrupted, holding up a single talon. The kid was, I'm convinced, an undiscovered genius in her time.

"Which we're counting on, to bring them here in force."

The tan Unicorn nodded, and continued smoothly.

"...Then they will have taken appropriate actions to help ensure the forthcoming assault is successful. If we take them now, we have no guarantee we can extract the information we need in a timely fashion. Worse, one of their subordinates might take their place. But if we watch every name on the list as the plan is in motion, we might catch them in the act itself, and stop them before they can do critical damage."

Fyrenn nodded slowly, ears twitching agitatedly, as he added his own thoughts to the mix.

"By the time their subordinates are aware of what's happened, we might well have the chance to catch them too, based on what we learn of the architect's plan. That's a bold bet."

Grimacing, I drummed my fingers on one of the tables, glowering down at the defused bombs. Ugly little junk-heaps, but damn effective.

"And if the cards don't deal our way, there will be a lot of blood on our hands. Claws. Hooves. Whatever your front limbs end in."

Martins shook her head, holding up both hands to bring an end to the debate, her voice unwavering. Though I thought I spotted more than a little appropriate apprehension behind her eyes.

"We move ahead then. As planned. If we do nothing, or if we pull punches and half-bake this because we got scared, the blood will be all over us just the same. God protects fools, children, and explorers. We've got all the boxes ticked."

Neyla nodded emphatically, then inclined her head, ears perking up, wings shifting reflexively as she spoke.

"Then we launch today. Cryo tray loading is complete, antimatter fuelling teams are over two thirds finished."

The Gryphoness finally stopped pacing, turning to face the rest of the group, her beak set, eyes flashing.

"We launch at first light."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

"Eyes FRONT!"

Murmuring, shuffling, and whispering ceased instantly across the assembled Guards-Ponies. With the dull rumble of hooves against turf, punctuated by the clank of armor plates, the assembled Equines came to full attention.

I wondered if the habits would stick with me once the charade was over. Even through the feathers I could still see Fyrenn's military bearing. 'Course he'd been doing it for decades.

Shining Armor waited until a solid, noticeable tension had set in, spurred on by the intensity of his words. Then he spoke, projecting to ensure all would hear clearly. Flanked by three Gryphons, he somehow still managed to appear intimidating.

Deep down, I was glad I didn't have to hate him for it. Having 'intimidating' on your side is a great feeling.

"Experience. It is both an excellent teacher, and a valuable reward. Today, it will be both, for fifteen lucky winners."

The Unicorn paced back and forth on the top step of the courtyard entrance, drilling into all of us with a steely gaze before elaborating.

"This morning, you will compete in a series of seven consecutive one on one elimination matches. The final fifteen individuals standing will spend this afternoon staffing the second shift positions in her Highness' personal bodyguard."

Sildinar nodded, and spoke out, adding further incentive to the burning anticipation rising in the assembled Battalions. I found myself completely caught up in it, despite knowing I was a complete and total impostor. Group-think is a heady tonic.

"Her Highness intends to take some time in the city this afternoon. In the interest of making a bold statement, and measuring public response, her personal guard will be fitted in the new regalia. This is a chance for some of you younger soldiers to be noticed by your superiors for exceptional performance. And a chance for ten of you, new or experienced, to get a taste of what your battalion is fighting for in these competitions."

Varan raised a claw, and an eyebrow, one ear perking up as he chimed in.

"Each of the winners takes a point in the overall competition for their battalion. So those of you assigned to me in particular? Don't disappoint."

Kephic nodded, and gestured expansively, completing the briefing with a grin that translated into his tone. Where Varan would probably meet death with a curt nod someday, I was convinced Kephic would greet him with a smirk.

"Simple rules. Do not intentionally cause serious injury that can't be easily healed by a reasonably talented magic caster. Your objective is to be the first to acquire a shot, or position that would guarantee you a kill. Referees will keep score. Eliminated combatants will proceed to the lower parade ground, where Varan will work you until you can no longer stand under your own power. Victors will proceed to the showers, and then proceed to the embarkation antechamber."

In the midst of the crowd, I exchanged the tiniest of sideways glances with IJ. We were both aware that only our target was our direct equal in combat, amongst the assembled Ponies.

It wasn't arrogance. Ok maybe a little, but not much. IJ was still a Changeling, imprinted with reams of combat knowledge from Spawn. I'd trained for years with Gryphons and Changelings. Far as I was concerned that made us the only real fighters in the guard. Us, and the assassin.

An opportunity to be on Celestia's personal guard was simply too valuable for the assassin to bypass.

IJ's skills, and mine, and a careful pre-placement in the lineup to ensure we never fought each other, would ensure that at least one of us would be there beside Celestia when afternoon came. Ideally both.

And so would the Assassin. The most dangerous variable aside from the killer, would be the twelve other Guards.

There was simply no way for us to know whether winners in games of one-on-one sparring would have the mettle to react wisely in a crisis. I held down a reflexive shiver as the word crossed my mind.

Crisis.

We were, I realized, intentionally creating a crisis. One that could either save a lotta lives, or end them messily in full public view. Unless by some miracle the assassin paired off with one of us.

Anyone in the group who could display truly equal or greater combat skills to mine, or IJ's could only be the assassin. In which case we'd all be aware almost immediately, and thus able to mercifully avoid further risk.

The odds weren't too good as to that outcome. And, I realized, the assassin would behave shrewdly, only exercising exactly as much skill as would be required to beat each successive opponent.

There would be no way to tell them apart from any of the other victors if they did their job right.

Until the last possible moment.

As dozens of Night Guards filtered into the courtyard to act as additional referees, seemingly appearing from within shadows, Shining barked a final series of commands.

"LINE UP! PAIR OFF! TAKE READY STANCES!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

I glanced over my shoulder, smiling as I watched Alyra shadow Councilor Martins and Astris at the rear of the mission ops center. The assignment was as much for her own edification, and safety, as it was for Martins' protection. It was highly unlikely, in my evaluation, that any invader would be able to breach the safeguards around the room.

The majority of the domed roof was given over to a holoscreen showing orbital tracks, with the center of the room occupied by a holotank for displaying related flight data. The periphery of the chamber was ringed with dozens of duty stations; Vertical semi transparent screens with curved touch displays beneath.

I turned back to stare at my own display. On one side, pre-launch checklists sat in varying states of partial readiness, instantly updating as the launch crews throughout the room, and aboard the fourteen ships, completed final checks.

The remainder of the display was a map of the compound, showing troop placements, and automated defenses. Every unit, vehicle, and missile battery was tagged. The display could show the ten-thousand-foot view, details as small as heart rate for a single soldier, and everything in between.

I was intimately familiar with the layout. It was based on JRSF designs, which were in turn derived from the same ops panels I'd seen and used many times in the Marines.

Neyla arrived with nearly absolute silence, in spite of the new tactical armor she wore, which mirrored my own. She sat wordless, staring at the data for a long moment, then at me for what seemed like an eternity. Something about the way she was looking at me stopped me from speaking.

I just held the moment, content to lend her strength in any way I could, and receive it in kind.

At last, she spoke softly.

"One way or another, this will all be over soon. I find that comforting."

With a nod I exhaled deeply, my voice betraying exhaustion, and fear. I made no effort to cover it up.

"On the one claw, I'm looking forward to it. I hate the idea of all those sleeping Humans, Gryphons, Ponies, Zebra, and the rest... All completely defenseless. Sleeping peacefully, with no idea what's happened out here. And yet..."

Neyla glanced over one wing to ensure Alyra was completely absorbed in her own work, before lowering her voice to a near-whisper as she finished my thought for me.

"And yet you hold a similar hatred for the idea of the conversation you must have with Alyra when this is all over."

I nodded again slowly, then pinched the bridge of my beak just above the nares with a sigh. Neyla blinked, and grit her own beak as I replied.

She hated seeing me in pain. I had always hated seeing her in pain too.

"The future scares me just as much as the present. Her future. Mine. Ours. Earth's... And I feel no small measure of guilt. We're doing a good thing here, but it hardly undoes the damage Humanity is doing. Or the damage I've done..."

Neyla delivered a light smack to my shoulder, glaring, her tone dipping into a familiar icy measure.

"As you're so fond of saying; We will blow up those bridges when we come to them. Begin with today's problems, and deal with tomorrow's if we make it there alive. Only four hours left now."

I nodded firmly, and reshuffled the position of my wings, fixing my gaze back on the monitor.

"They'll make it. We will make it. We have to."

I wished I believed it with as much conviction as I was trying to project.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

I found my final opponent to be truly frustrating. After six consecutive bouts, I also found the Unicorn to be tiring.

It certainly didn't help that everyone was watching us. All three Gryphons, Shining armor, all of the referees, and every other victor, all nine of them, IJ included. Somewhere among the other eight, lurked the assassin; Likely picking apart every one of my moves, and strategies. Sizing up weak points.

I hated being sized up.

The Unicorn I faced was exceptionally talented. Our fight had been going on almost twice as long as the other final elimination rounds. Though the Unicorn was much older than me, and possessed of a lot less physical stamina, his magical abilities were nothing short of incredible.

Privately, I'd begun to wonder if my opponent was actually the assassin after all. The side of my chest-plate bore a wicked gray carbon score, where a bolt from the mage had barely missed knocking me halfway across the courtyard on my ass.

Avoiding my opponent wasn't a problem for me on its own. Managing to avoid being blasted by a simulated kill-shot, bypassing the Unicorn's defensive spells, and landing a hit, all at the same time, was the true challenge.

I could move at speeds the Unicorn could barely visually clock. By contrast, he was like an immovable stone. A stone with fortress-like defenses that seemed utterly unapproachable, without also exposing myself to unceremonious defeat.

I rolled to the left to avoid a bolt of energy, and wished in my heart of hearts, not for the first time, that I knew more about weather magic. It was a devastatingly effective tool for some Pegasi, and I was feelin' its absence, let me tell ya.

The closest I'd ever come to using it was the time I'd taken a normally fatal electrical charge from an aircraft APU. My opponent in that fight had seemed unassailable too, but unlike me, had no natural biological protection from electrical current.

The Diamond Dog's spine had fused, and his brain had cooked-off, or so they told me. I on the other hoof had escaped with no injuries.

None caused by the electricity itself, at any rate. The bruising from having the gray clod hitting me full on, and then falling on me had stuck around for weeks. Might've been some fractures in there too.

I squinted, and beat my wings lightly, rising a dozen feet in the space of half a second. The foundation of an idea began to form unbidden in the back of my mind. Boy did I ever love those unbidden ideas. Usually suicidal nonsense half the time. I always chalked it up to the Gryphons' bad influence.

The Unicorn favored energy bolt attacks. That much was pretty obvious.

The attacks had started tentatively at first, but my opponent had gotten nothing if not more brazen as the battle wore on.

Maybe he knew that not all Pegasi shared the same skillsets.

As the next bolt issued forth, I concentrated. Hard.

Time seemed to slow.

The effect wasn't nearly as potent as the one the Gryphons described, but it was sure as shootin' a big advantage compared to any other being's perception of time nonetheless. Unicorns included.

I hadn't realized we Pegasi could do it, at first. Varan had taught me the basics, for which I breathed a silent word of thanks as I extended both wings fully.

Just before the bolt would have connected directly in the center of my chest plate, I beat my wings forward, and together, channeling every ounce of concentration and focus I had.

To my shock and surprise, the electricity did exactly what I'd hoped for it to do. What I'd needed it to do. Apparently there *is* a first time for everything.

Billowing back upon itself, as if the wind from my wings were propelling it, the bolt traveled back along its own length in a flash, slamming into the Unicorn's glowing shield, and blasting it into pieces.

I wanted to gloat. So badly. But I had no time for glee, smugness, or any emotional response at all. I folded my wings, and beat them backwards and down as hard as I could. The world accelerated into a blur.

I had only a tenth of a second to appreciate the Unicorn's shocked expression, and it was a very enjoyable tenth of a second, before I slammed directly into him, and sent him careening across the courtyard, flank over teakettle, tearing up clods of grass with the edges of his armor.

Beating my wings a third time, I zipped over the ground, hooves only occasionally touching earth. I had no idea how much I loved raw speed, until I'd finally learned how to coax more of it out of my own wings.

I arrived over the Unicorn not a moment too soon, extending my wings, and beating them down a fourth, and final time. Fyrenn had taught me that trick. Said he had always known wings could be deadly, apparently Swans used to crack unwary Human's skulls open with theirs, and he'd read about it in a documentary somewhere.

My wings were a heckuva lot better than some glorified goose.

The joints connected sharply with the Unicorn's skull, dazing him, and leaving me with a deep and painful sudden appreciation for the Gryphic idea of wing joint guards.

As the initial shock began to wear off, the Unicorn staggered to his feet, and his horn began to glow. I braced myself, but abruptly a shrill whistle filled the air, followed by Shining Armor's voice.

"ENOUGH!"

The Unicorn snapped reflexively to attention. Panted, I did the same, albeit with a bit less decorum, and precision. I frankly didn't care to give off the air that I was the cinched bootlaces type. I never was, and I liked it that way.

The group moved to surround us once more, and Sildinar spoke next, inclining his head with a smile.

"Well fought. But had this Pegasus not softened his blow, he would have broken both his wings, and your skull. Painful for him. But fatal for you."

Shining smiled, and nodded.

"Both of you to the showers. Only one of you can be named victor, but I think you've both earned a short rest."

The Unicorn sighed, and nodded weakly, clearly grateful that he would not face Varan's wrath on the training ground at the very least. So was I, to be honest. If IJ was a task-mistress, Varan was whatever is next worse on the ladder. R. Lee Ermy with wings and a beak. And even less sense of humor.

I smiled, and proffered a hoof, which the Unicorn gently tapped with his own.

"You *almost* had me there."

Inwardly, I shivered at the idea of IJ facing the assassin alone. 'Almost' was too close, as far as I was concerned.

Love does funny things to you. It wasn't that I didn't trust her to look after herself. I just didn't ever want to see her have to take a risk again without me.

With an inward sigh, I chewed on the comforting notion that, for the moment at least, we could face the crisis together.

Chapter 11

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

As dawn's tepid gray light began to fill the eastern rim of the sky, klaxons blared incessantly across the immense voids of the complex, bouncing back in distorted echoes from a myriad of cold duracrete and titanium surfaces.

For nearly an hour, all had been eerily still. Most of the structures' lights had been dimmed, or deactivated entirely. Security patrols; Nervous yet steely-eyed groups of Humans, Gryphons, and Ponies, with the occasional smattering of other species, shuffled quietly around their assigned posts, clad in identical gray suits of shaped-energy-plating.

The fourteen ships were loaded. Hulking silver curved wedges, nestled in their launching bays, seemingly completely inert. I knew better. The incredibly tense process of hot-loading antimatter fuel bottles had finished, to the sound of much applause, and many relieved sighs, an hour previous.

As per Neyla's timetable, that had given everyone a final sixty minute window to re-check spacecraft systems, glance over cryo-tray vital signs, and issue final troop dispersal patterns to the ground teams.

As alarms, and flashing caution lights sprang to life all across the facility, lights began to come on. First smaller illumibars, followed by immense arc-lights, flashing guidance points, and roving spot lights.

Dawn was instantly transformed into the relative brightness of noon.

The quiet tension of the mission ops center blossomed into organized chaos, as Martins took her place at the central holotank. Suspended graphical representations and screens alike began to fill with endless processions of data, increasing the illumination in the chamber noticeably.

Martins adjusted her earpiece, brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and tapped firmly on her comm activation control. I could see the signs of her rising blood pressure in her skin and the edge of her eyes. But the nervousness behind her eyes seemed to be gone, plated over with an armored resolve, born of necessity, skill, and practice.

"All operation controllers, poll your subsystem chiefs. Go-no-go to commence launch operations."

I blinked, inhaled deeply, and focused my gaze on the console before me, taking only a microsecond to notice that Neyla, and Skye were doing the same at their own stations. I had decided to listen in on all control comm-loops at once, a feat only an Equestrian brain could cope with.

The deluge of information began to pour in at an incredible pace, with six or seven status reports happening concurrently at all times. The entire exchange was over in less than twelve seconds.

"Vostok flight control systems; Go! Bridge crew is go! "

"Cryo-tray subsystems, Alpha through Echo are green"

"Range officer reports weather patterns consistent with pre-launch predictions. Range is green."

"Voskhod bridge crew ready. Voskhod flight control systems nominal."

"UEG orbital control reports final clearance granted. All air and space traffic cleared along designated safe zone to orbit."

"Mercury controller to actual; Spacecraft is green. Bridge crew is ready."

"Cryo-tray subsystems, Foxtrot through Juliet are green. Kilo through Papa green."

"All engineering controllers report sublight systems, one through fourteen, ready with full thrust available on power-up."

"Fuelling gantries retracted. Good sep. No contraindications."

"Gemini bridge crew present, ready. Gemini spacecraft systems are nominal."

"Apollo crew and systems all green."

"All bridge navigation and helm stations, standby to receive flight data from mission-ops in an encrypted burst."

"Cryo-trays Quebec thru Uniform are green."

"AI and electronic countermeasure diagnostics complete. No red flags at this time flight."

"Salyut reports master caution light on port side tertiary solar array."

"Salyut main controller, engineering control; I grant permission to dismiss master caution at this time for non-critical subsystem. Reset status board and advise."

"Tiangong reports bridge crew ready. Spacecraft ready."

"Spacecraft ground APUs disconnected. All craft report internal main power operational. Antimatter reactors functioning at seven percent across the board. Secondary fusion reactors at one hundred percent. All internal power checks are nominal."

"Salyut main controller to flight; No further status messages from Salyut AI. Spacecraft reports ready. Bridge crew ready."

"Mission ops security subsystems report all normal. Lockdown is in effect across all bulkheads."

"Tactical director; Advise status of ground forces, and tactical subsystems."

I glanced across my status board once more, taking in everything and processing it almost within the same instant.

"Flight, Tac, all ground teams report ready. Backup assets in standby, and available. Mission ops facility is secure. Perimeter airspace secure. All bridge tactical stations report full starship defensive system readiness. All anti-air defenses ready. IFF subsystems and AI report ready."

"Cryo-trays Victor thru Zulu green. All cryo-tray checks complete. All lifesigns nominal. All subsystems nominal."

"Challenger to flight; All bridge crew present and ready. All subsystems green."

"Air and water SAR on ready-standby. Coastal perimeter is clear."

"Satvision thirteen, seven, nine, four, all datalinks established. Earthgov Central Aerospace defense at Creek Mountain reports all requested SatVision systems are now under mission ops control."

"Challenger reports all bridge crew ready. All spacecraft subsystems nominal."

"Discovery reports all crew, and systems ready."

"Spacecraft boarding bridges and cargo ramps disconnected, stowed, and clear of backblast."

"Endeavour reports all crew ready. All systems green."

"Gantry control, flight; Retract all other secondary moorings and place main support locking clamps in standby-disconnect. Master arm to standby-ready."

"Atlantis reports all systems nominal. All bridge crew standing by."

"Flight, gantry control, all secondary moorings retracted. Structural locking clamps in standby-disconnect. Power-on-self-test for explosive bolts complete. Master arm is on standby-ready at this time."

"All channels, all channels, break. Break. Range is hot at this time. Master arm in standby-ready. All bridge crews, begin sublight engine pre-ignition checklist Beta two. All engineering stations, standby to spin antimatter reactors to full."

"Columbia reports ready; Spacecraft and crew green."

"Soyuz ready. Crew nominal. Spacecraft nominal."

"Mir crew ready. Mir spacecraft functional, and green."

"Flight, this is the overseer AI; All computer systems and AI subsystems report secondary checks complete. All data is consistent with crewed system checks at this time."

I glanced over my shoulder at Martins. The Councilor pursed her lips, gripping the edge of the holotank tightly as she spoke. Her headset was tuned to just the main controller loop.

"All channels, break. Cut chatter and standby for final poll."

For three seconds, silence reigned once more. The abrupt change was deeply unsettling. Martins' voice rang out firmly once again, answered in turn almost immediately by various controllers on the main loop.

"Wave one Operation Genesis launch controllers, polling go-no-go to commence mission operations. Datacomm."

"Go."

"Spacecraft."

"Go."

"Range."

"Clear."

"Taccom."

I flicked the channel selector on my headset over to the main loop, and delivered my answer in a clipped, steady tone.

"Go."

"Nav."

"Go!"

"FAO."

"Ready."

"FIDO."

"Go flight."

"All stations report go for launch operations. Overseer AI, start the clock. Engineering controllers, begin antimatter reactor full-start checklist at this time. Bridge crews, begin launch checklist Echo four."

"T-Minus eighty. Seventy-nine. Seventy-eight. Clock is running. All automates and AI subsystems report final diagnostics checks are complete, nominal."

Martins shared a momentary glance, first with Neyla, then with me.

"Maybe we managed to slip under their radar?"

Neyla shook her head firmly. I snorted, and raised one eyebrow, my left ear flattening reflexively in agitation as I spoke.

"Don't bet on it. There's no way they missed this kind of build-up. They're just waiting until the ships are at their most vulnerable post-liftoff, in-atmosphere, low and slow. This launch will be a running battle."

Skye chimed in from her position near the main sensor telemetry board.

"The mole knows what we're up to. No way they haven't been aware for days. They'll be here. And soon. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Only question is how, and from what direction."

"Flight, engineering subsystems report ready for full reactor start procedures. All bridge crews report launch checklist Echo four complete, standing by."

Martins nodded, and leaned back over the holotank, enunciating sharply into her earpiece.

"Bridge crews, standby for final launch order and initial navigation vectors."

"T-Minus thirty seconds."

"Open antimatter injectors, ten percent per second, to full."

"Reaction mediation filaments looking good... No significant change in field data."

"Power output curves nominal. Looks solid so far."

"Fifty percent mark. No cautions. Coolant loop is self-sustaining on all reactors."

"Secondary fusion systems cycling back to fifty percent. Thirty percent. Holding at standard operating twenty percent mark."

"Flight, engineering control; All M/AM reactors at one hundred percent, and stable. All engineering pre-launch checklists reported complete. All spacecraft report final readiness checks complete. The board is clear."

"T-Minus twenty seconds."

"Final release for structural locking clamps set to hot-disconnect, and ready. Explosive bolt pins charged. Armed. Status green."

Martins nodded firmly, and tapped a series of authentications into her control console in rapid succession.

"Master arm switch is now ready-armed. All stations, master arm switch is ready-armed. Main flight computer is in control at this time. All pre-launch holds cleared. Standby for disconnect, and launch."

"Sublight engine pre-ignition. Fuel injectors armed. Impulsive plate shrouds retracted."

"T-Minus Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."

"Sublight ignition sequence started. Coolant loops green. Impulse plates report good charge."

"Six. Five. Main sublight engine full-start."

"Navigation controls for all craft to automatic, ascent phase I profile, helm controllers standby for manual flight control in thirty seconds. Impulse auto-sequencing initiated. Thruster auto-sequencing initiated, begin ascent phase I."

"Three. Explosive bolt sequence initiated. One. Launch."

With precision and coordination only made possible by AI, and automated fiber optic circuitry, thousands of explosive bolts triggered within precisely the same microsecond.

At the same moment, fourteen pairs of impulse drives began providing precisely enough thrust to push the fourteen immense silver arrowhead hulls skyward.

Thruster quads sputtered and hissed as each ship's navigational AI made miniscule corrections for crosswind, tiny mass shifts caused by cargo and living crew changing position, and even the minutely fluctuating gravity of the Earth itself.

Incredibly slowly at first, but gaining momentum every moment, the fourteen vast hulls rose, defying all viewers' mental expectations of physics. Each seemed far too vast to be rising so smoothly, without any clouds of spent gases and fire, or the roar of great and terrible explosive chemical reactions.

Instead, the air was filled with a deep bass-level thrum that resonated in bone, and duracrete, and steel sinews alike, as though a turbine generator the size of a city had been switched on beneath everyone's feet.

Within ten seconds, each ship had fully cleared its berth. Empty cradles of metal, asphalt, and wires left to the bonds of gravity.

In another twenty seconds, the vessels had risen over a hundred feet, and automatic helm control began to cede more and more tasks to the fourteen helm officers, most of whom were Gryphons or Pegasi.

Fourteen silver arrowheads cast fourteen massive shadows across the African plains as dawn fully broke, a moment of sudden radiance dancing across the metallic patterns of the hulls.

The radio waves were alive with telemetry and reports, as frenzied applause briefly erupted in the mission ops center.

"All vectors nominal. Automatic helm control released. Ascent phase II vectors issued to all helm stations."

"Flight, engineering control, all twenty eight impulse engines functioning at expected levels."

"Engineering control, Columbia helm, right ventral thruster quad three shows yellow caution on injector assembly four."

"Understood, diagnostic in progress."

"Flight, engineering control, all artificial gravity and inertial compensation mechanisms online, and nominal."

"Engineering control, main diagnostic AI; Columbia right ventral thruster quad three injector assembly four, diagnostic results show under-voltage in fuse eleven-charlie. Recommend dismiss yellow caution and schedule in-flight replacement. No further recommendations at this time."

"Flight, all helm stations report vectors starside received and locked in."

"Columbia, engineering control, dismiss master caution yellow on thruster assembly, and standby for maintenance duty log updates on-orbit."

"All bridge crews, this is flight; Well done, and Godspeed. Go boldly into the unknown. Passing you over to tactical actions control at this time."

I tapped the side of my microphone, switching my comm loop over to the fourteen bridge crews' main channel.

"All crews, this is tactical control, go to combat condition beta. Alert status five; Secure all stations, and place defense measures in ready-standby."

Neyla's right ear twitched as she leaned in over my control panel. She murmured softly into my left ear, with a tone that sent chills down my spine.

"If there were ever a key moment of weakness, this would be it."

Nodding slowly, I kept my eyes fixed on the display readouts.

As if in response to prophetic utterance, a ripple passed over the inner perimeter LADAR. I knew better than to dismiss anything out of claw, and my reaction was instantaneous. Disaster began to unfold simultaneously to my words.

"Combat alert. All vessels, contact at two three seven true, elevation four hundred, range one point seven. Combat alert condition Alpha. Ground teams, switch armored units tango three, and beta four to anti-air mode. All other ground teams standby to repel breachers. Mission ops center, initiate full combat lockdown."

As the mission ops center's light dimmed, and red battle mode lighting snapped on, together with a soft but insistent klaxon, Neyla's eyes widened, and the feathers at the back of her neck stood on end. I was sure mine were doing the same.

Skye whistled, staring at the familiar shape on the holotank with an expression equal parts dread, and horror.

"You didn't tell me they could *fly!* You just said they were big scary structures!"

I shook my head, muttering as my talons danced across the control console.

"We didn't know. It wasn't visually apparent at the time."

Skye slammed one hoof against the deck plating in frustration.

"The BUCK?!"

As the last vestiges of the trajection field dissipated, together with an ear splitting thunder clap, the huge black spike began to move forward, emitting a keening whine from blue and purple propulsion slits nestled into jagged protrusions at its rear.

The Wisp hive-spike was unmistakably a breakaway part of the structure Fyrenn, Neyla and the others had seen, snow covered and immobile, those three years previous.

It still seemed to have the same terrifying properties. All light appeared to compress towards the dark black rock-like hull, broken only occasionally by glowing red, blue, and purple runes, or slits that seemed to be full of boiling mica.

The vessel, for a vessel it undoubtedly was, began to accelerate, closing the distance with the cluster of smaller silver shapes it shared the sky with.

A point-blank clash was inevitable.

From her position suspended in the command column, Veritas smirked. Thousands of images, composited from sensor data filled her mind. The voices and intentions of every Wisp tied into the Hive-ship's control systems were at her beck and call.

She could see them with her physical eyes as well, all suspended inside receiving alcoves that faced her own command column, skulls adhered to dozens of black snaking tubes that seemed to be made of living tissue, eyes glowing red.

The command chamber itself danced with blue, red, and purple runes suspended in mid-air, as technology and magic intertwined in dark harmony, placing the Wisps' minds in direct synchronization with the starship's every system.

Veritas' mind reached out for information.

"Trace radio signal routing, find the command building, and target them."

Almost immediately, a sour note filled the void.

"The ground command center is silent."

"No radio signals."

"No power emissions."

Veritas began to sift through the data herself to confirm, images, waveforms, colors, moods, and nebulous concepts streaking across her synapses at light-speed.

"Then where--- What do you mean above us?"

An answer at last presented itself as new information rushed across the void of minds. Veritas' muzzle twisted into a rictus of frustration, and she muttered aloud to herself.

"So. Their Shenzhou is not as crippled as we were led to believe..."

"New target! Ready the main weapons!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

I smacked the flat of my hoof against the door, my impatience practically audible in the resounding thud. I ensured that I backed the impression up with an unmistakable tone.

There was no moving Stan when he was primping for a public appearance. A reporter's instincts, it seemed, never died. There were many things I loved about him, but his affectations around his appearance when being seen in public were not among them.

I was careful to avoid overusing compliments, so as not to inflate his ego. But internally, I needed no such restraint; He was a very handsome specimen. He needed to spend less time fretting over that fact, and more time on productive things.

"Today Stan. There's discipline, and then there's vanity. See if you can guess whether or not you've crossed the line."

Just as I was on the verge of lashing out with both wings to make a much louder sound, a familiar and satisfying gesture of Pegasus frustration that I had missed more than I cared to admit, the door swung inwards.

A familiar head poked out, clad in the burnished, untarnished silvery surface of brand new alloy armor, colored in the distinctly unfamiliar white fur and blue mane of his disguise.

The rest of Stan's body followed in short order.

I would never admit it aloud, but I had no qualms about internally admitting how dashing the new gear made Stan look; Especially together with his newly trim figure, and Royal Guard colored coat.

I violently suppressed a smirk as I imagined how intimidating the two of us would appear side by side. Warriors clad in warriors' garb, with true warrior bearing that too many in the Guard still lacked.

We would be the envy of all. And I very much enjoyed that thought.

Stan brushed past me, and rolled his eyes, murmuring to himself with more than enough volume to ensure his words were heard.

"Sheesh. Can't a guy have ten minutes to make sure he looks nice for the biggest day of his fake career?"

I glowered, and cantered into position alongside him, lashing out playfully with one hoof as I delivered a retort in clipped measure.

"That was more like twenty five minutes. I thought the Gryphons taught you better than that. Most of them can be ready in less than one."

Stan raised an eyebrow, and fluffed his right wing, reseating it with a demeanor of faux offense.

"Oh? Well for whatever reason, the feather-dusters don't seem to smell so bad after exercise. This magical dye though? The stuff *stinks.* I figured you'd complain less about time spent in a solid shower, than a vile stank. Guess I was wrong. There's just no pleasin' ya."

With a snort, I fired off a predatory grin, along with a smooth, almost saccharine response.

"Actually... There is one thing you could do that would make me *very* pleased indeed."

Stan smiled, and leaned in close, both ears perked forward mischievously.

"Oh really? And what would you have me do your majesty?"

I turned to face forward, and tossed my head, ending in a formal marching pose as I replied with absolute deadpan.

"As the Humans say; Zip your howling screamer."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

The chamber doors hissed open, granting Fyrenn and I a view of the sky below and beyond via the Shenzhou's bridge holodome. The soft murmurs and trills of the mission ops center vanished abruptly as the connecting door whisked closed once more.

Fyrenn locked eyes with Hutch, as the General spun around from his position in the main command nest. I immediately took charge, projecting my voice to fill the bridge.

"Bring the ship up to combat alert alpha. Arm all particle lances, load forward torpedo tubes, spin up impulse drives for tactical maneuvers, and deploy the defense armor."

Aston grimaced, fingers flashing over her console as she exchanged a glance with one of the other bridge crew members as she voiced her concerns.

"We launched to put the mission-ops center out of reach of any ground invaders. We're not equipped to fight! We barely passed emergency certification checks for basic unpressurized atmospheric flight!"

Shaking my head, I spoke quickly and firmly as I moved to stand beside Hutch in the semicircular horseshoe of command consoles, designed for the ship's captain and flag officers.

"I had the ship's torpedoes loaded, and power conduits patched to allow use of the weapon and defense systems. No one else was told besides Fyrenn, Skye, and the loading crews."

The ship's decking thrummed momentarily as armor plating, similar to the technology embedded in the Genesists' personal combat armor, materialized over Shenzhou's hull.

On the viewdome, I could see the same process cladding the hulls of the fourteen colony ships as they accelerated into a series of initial evasive patterns to split potential incoming fire.

I knew they couldn't divert spare power to anything but point defense, otherwise they would lack sufficient power to boost to orbit, and maintain defensive armor simultaneously.

Powering down from launch, and engaging directly would end the fight sooner, but presented too many other risks. Those precious minutes represented a great deal of time for the enemy to wreak havoc.

Fyrenn tapped the shoulder of the Unicorn manning the main tactical station, dismissing her, and sliding into the multi-species capable chair as she vacated.

My eyes raced over readouts, and panels as my right claw lashed out and seized control of the helm via the main command terminal, bypassing the empty main helm station entirely.

The agreement had been easy to reach; It was my plan, so I would be captain and helm if the Shenzhou was called on to fight, with Hutch acting as my XO.

Aston would handle the liaison position between bridge, and mission ops. Fyrenn would handle all tactical systems, given his cross-training in Naval artillery.

Shenzhou lurched as the impulse engines dug in, firewalling from zero to full military thrust in half a second, forcing the inertial compensators to overcharge to keep up.

Fyrenn began to engage in his own dance of data with the tactical console, assessing his options, and likely enemy strategies before speaking in the typical clipped half-shout of a trained Human officer in a crisis situation.

"Enemy contact at seven five mark negative four five relative. Two zero zero meters below us, range zero point seven k. Enemy changing course. It looks like they've noticed us. Armor deployed and locked at full capacity."

I nodded, and began to subtly cant the ship to starboard, dipping the nose in the same smooth motion, and relaying my intentions calmly. The hardest part was over for me, as far as I was concerned.

Waiting was torture. Battle was a comfortable, natural state.

"Changing course, eight zero, mark negative four oh relative, flank speed. Lining up forward torpedo tubes for a frontal assault. Bring all other weapon systems to bear, continuous fire."

Fyrenn winced as the computer returned a null-lock, and a series of alarms and red icons began to fill both of our panels simultaneously. I found myself gritting my own beak sympathetically.

"No tone on enemy ship, they're jamming targeting. Long-range communications as well. Switching to manual visual control of all weapon systems. Particle lances and warhead tracking systems switching to CQB best-effort mode."

Through grit beak I tossed a response over my shoulder, talons still dancing madly to juggle helm control, and non-verbal commands to other subsystems.

"Focus ground AA, point defense, and everything we have up here on the enemy contact. Main torpedo tubes will be aligned in twenty seconds. You'll only get a short window for visual lock. Incoming fire."

A deep, bass-filled vibration shook the vessel as blotches of sickly purple energy zipped from glowing protrusions on the Hive ship, to splash across Shenzhou's bow. Fyrenn quickly assessed the damage as I cast a questioning glance his way, one ear flicking forward in surprise, which carried over into his tone.

"Fore armor is down three percent. Regenerative cycles are restoring integrity at a rate of five percent per minute. Their weapons are minimally effective against the ablative generators."

Outside, through the holodome, the brilliant cascades of point defense fire, and shock pulses created a dazzling effect reminiscent of fireworks.

Hutch shook his head, his voice strained as he gripped the railing of the Captain's station, his knuckles turning white with intensity.

"Assuming this is still the PER we're dealing with, or new friends of theirs, they'll just start targeting the facility. If they can't stop this launch, they'll prevent the rest just the same."

Fyrenn picked his first targets, barely sparing enough brain power to respond as his talons whipped back and forth from control pad, to screen, to hologram in sequence, assigning visual target locks on the enemy weapon ports by sight alone.

"They won't get the chance."

Streaks of brilliant blue energy, straight as ramrods, and as sharply defined as icicles lanced out from a dozen points on the Shenzhou, converging on three main weapon protrusions at the front of the Hive Ship.

For nearly a second and a half, the beams simply sputtered against a navy and purple colored web of protective energy. But after another half second, the front of the field began to collapse, allowing the beams to puncture their targets.

Large explosions blossomed forth from the skin of the Hive ship, ejecting several moderate sized chunks of the hull outwards in all directions with such force, that a few even bounced off the armor of the foremost colony ships.

In the command chamber, Veritas scowled fiercely, dividing the energies of her mind between damage control assignments, a swift course change, bolstering the forward shield, and switching attack strategies entirely.

"Your armor will not save you..."

"Boarding parties, standby to traject. Take their command center, engine section, and torpedo room. We'll use their own Shenzhou to put a stop to the rest..."

Within the void, Veritas reached out, and brushed the mind of her infiltrator.

"Strike now! Give us an opening!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Sildinar

"So. Anyone had much experience with these before?"

I raised one eyebrow as I gestured with a wing towards the newly opened crate that sat on the strongest part of the roof's tiles.

A tantalizing scent, equal parts cedar packing chips, leather, polished oak, blackgrit, and lubrication oil wafted gently onto the afternoon breeze. In the background, the dull thrum of a gathering crowd filtered up from Canterlot's main boulevard below, and beyond.

Kephic hefted one of several menacing, glinting objects from amongst its twins, speaking almost reverently as he checked the action, barrel, blades, and trigger mechanism with practiced and methodical ease.

"A few sessions with the prototypes. They're considerably louder, and heavier than an arbalest, but it's ten times easier to hit a target ten times farther away, with a thousand times as much force."

Varan reached into the crate of Thunderblades, removing one for himself, and inspecting the sharpened edge of the largest killing blade. His right index talon made a menacing rasp as he tested the sharpness, producing a shower of small sparks in the process. The golden Gryphon's voice was equally sharp, and terrifying, in spite of its relative tranquility.

"I have used them enough to feel competent. None of us are strangers to Human firearms, after all."

He was right. I'd been living with no small amount of anticipation for the day that our Converts would begin to bring the advantage of Human martial technologies to the claws of our warriors. It was fitting to see Fyrenn's work up close, providing us with an edge which we sorely needed.

As I lifted one of the weapons slowly, running my eyes up and down every curve, edge, and point, I spoke in a thoughtful murmur, reflecting that it most likely would not be the last time we'd need such an edge.

"True. Though I doubt if Humans ever produced firearms that married blunt impact force, sleek blade movement, and chemical rounds quite so elegantly. If Celestia knew these were here, she would be most distressed."

Kephic chuckled grimly as he flicked open a leather container nestled in one corner of the crate, and began extracting rounds to load.

"Fifty caliber, eight shot, semi-automatic, interchangeable-part, mass-manufactured chemical driven rifles are a serious leap forward from steel bolts on a wooden crossbow, even ones as sophisticated and well crafted as ours. I can understand why someone so protective of life, and unused to the rigors of war, would see it as macabre, even frightening. A harbinger."

Varan began his own loading procedure, exhaling softly as he no doubt envisioned the potential consequences of the weapon brought to bear in significant numbers. I found myself doing the same.

Harbinger seemed an apt word. Varan's words landed with similar prophetic weight, and intensity to his brother's.

"If we are successful today, then one war will be averted. But another is certainly coming... And after that...?"

Varan punctuated his thoughts by snapping the breech closed, and raising the weapon. The afternoon sun caught the edge of the primary blade at just the right angle to create a glittering lightshow.

"...Well. One disaster at a time."

If only it were that easy.

Shining

"Give credit where it's due; The bird-lions know how to make good kit."

I glowered over one shoulder at Stan, my voice conveying the same all-business attitude as my expression, as it echoed through the cool air of the stone antechamber.

"Can it, soldier."

The salmon Pegasus stiffened, and locked his eyes forward, 'on the boat,' the way that both Human and Equestrian soldiers seemed to do when in formation.

IJ visibly resisted the impulse to shake her head wearily, instead holding a similarly disciplined posture silently. She at least conducted herself with some discipline and decorum. Apparently she had the good smarts and good graces to have retained much of her guard training.

Together with Stan, myself , and thirteen other Ponies, we made up a dazzling formation around Celestia's royal chariot.

With the four Pegasi pulling the vehicle, that made twenty Ponies, fully armored in the new Gryphon-made designs. The only thing missing from the group was Celestia herself, and I knew it would be only moments until the monarch arrived.

I reflected, with an inward grimace, that it was fortunate Mr. Carradan's combat endeavours had always been in the company of Gryphons, or Changelings. In my estimation, he would never have made it full-time in a traditional Equine squad, constantly being forced to stand on ceremony and protocol.

It just wasn't in his nature. And I realized with a barely suppressed start that I liked that about him. Below all the bombast, and amusing attempts at charisma, it made him one of the most transparent, and emotionally honest Ponies I'd ever met.

Probably a better soldier than most I'd served with.

Sometimes simple was best, I decided. Simplicity often brought with it robustness, and familiarity. The Guard was complex, and full of emotional pressures. Stan was simple, and for all his crass mannerisms, apparently quite genuine, and caring.

Celestia's ornamental hoof-guards made a distinctive click-clack against the cobblestone of the vaulted chamber. I didn't need to look to know she had arrived.

The formation remained at rapt attention as the Solar Monarch took her place on the gilded craft's central cushion.

After a brief moment's pause, to allow Celestia to situate herself, I slammed my right hoof into the ground, following the booming report with an equally ear-splitting command.

"FORMATION; FORWARD!"

Carradan

I wriggled, and writhed, as best I could. The bonds around my wings weren't especially strong, but whatever liquid substance I was suspended in was dulling my mind, senses, and muscles. That much I'd figured out pretty quick.

Dimly at first, then with growing clarity, I was aware of voices, and images. A ghostly second reality, projected over my mostly green view of the world. Eugh.

It took me several more seconds to realize just what the hay I was seeing. My memory of the past few minutes returned at almost the same moment, leading to a momentary jolt, and a corresponding second of mental perspicacity.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!!"

The reflexive scream, more frustration, and panic, than actual fear, was muffled by the suspension fluid. I realized, somewhere in the back of my mind, that he could breathe in spite of the liquid. Well that was a spot of good news. A very small spot.

The forefront of my thoughts, however, was completely occupied with the terrifying realization that I had been replaced. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Just like the damn pod people movies.

My last conscious memory was of the Unicorn I'd beaten only minutes before. My opponent hadn't even given me time to become suspicious, striking with such ferocity that I was barely cognizant of hitting the floor after the first blow. Quick little bucker.

My last memory was a blurry picture of the Unicorn shedding his disguise, melting back into familiar black chitinous lines.

What had truly focused my mind was my present. It was as if I could see through two pairs of eyes at once. The second set of senses, I realized in horror, were that of the Changeling.

"You *are* a tough one. I gave you enough to knock most Pegasi out for a solid hour. No matter."

I growled, and jerked to the side, causing the pod encasing me to swing ever so slightly. I could just barely make out the room beyond; The same chamber I'd been using to gear up, though my perspective was upside down.

The pod was suspended from a rafter. I realized that I was upside down within it.

"The more you struggle, the faster you'll absorb the suspension. Try to escape, and you won't stay conscious for long."

I snorted again, my voice burbling as if I was speaking underwater.

"BUCK you! What *is* this?! Are you inside my head or somethin'? Get th' BUCK out!"

A booming chuckle seemed to echo from everywhere, and nowhere all at once, even as the sound of Shining's voice issuing formation commands also reached my mind, via the Changeling's ears.

"Yes, and no. I'm not inside your thoughts, but I am able to 'read' your personality. And some of your memories, and most of your senses. Your traitorous little friend hasn't the faintest idea... I do a very good impression of you, thanks to... Well... You."

I grit my teeth, and tried to slow my breathing, shivering reflexively as the suspension fluid began to hit my system once more. Potent shit. Better than any scotch I'd ever had.

My voice slowed, along with my thoughts, and my eyelids began to droop.

"I am... gonna... kill... you..."

"Even if you could, you certainly wouldn't manage to do it before I kill your precious Princess, her array of idiots... And your dear little traitor, who imagines herself a queen."

My eyes snapped back open. The words were like a red-hot brand against my chest.

"Don't bet on it."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

"What *is* that?"

Aston stood from behind her station, squinting as bright flashes overwhelmed the viewdome's gamma correction thresholds, causing white flashes across the entire panel.

I shook my head, verifying that my displays were giving accurate information before conveying the findings aloud.

"Whatever they're firing, it isn't doing any damage. It's almost like it's conducting through the armor..."

Further speculation was cut short, violently. Coinciding with the last of the lighting-shaped blasts, a thunderous shock filled the bridge. Aston, Hutch, and the few other crew on-station shielded their ears and eyes reflexively.

Neyla and I saw the unmistakable forms materializing microseconds before they were fully-formed, and sprang into combat positions, ducking and spinning to avoid shards of plexiglass from shattered consoles and illumination bars.

The enemy presence filled the center of the bridge. Two hulking Diamond Dog Trolls, and two Wisps, scorpion tails raised and ready.

The intruders were clad, one and all, head to tail, in jet black combat armor that reflected no light whatsoever, and covered every inch of skin, fur, or bone.

Neyla made it into a firing position first, cross-drawing her particle pistol, and placing a shot dead center into the first Diamond Dog's helmet. The blast peeled back several layers of the armor, but failed to fully penetrate, instead forcing the attacker to stumble backwards in shock.

Hutch seized on the opportunity, pulling his full sized carbine from its perch beside the Captain's central console, and blasting the same spot on the aggressor's helmet.

The bolt from the much larger rifle overmatched what little armor remained after Neyla's shot, piercing through the Diamond Dog's skull, and continuing out the back of the helmet to strike the side of the first Wisp, leaving a large divot in its chestplate.

The second Wisp had used the time to target Hutch, flicking back retractable plates around its tail-barb, and lashing out. The bony blade at the tip slammed into Hutch's right shoulder-plate, partially penetrating, but failing to draw blood.

Hutch's eyes widened in shock, both physical and emotional, as he found himself face to face with the nightmarish creature. The bone-barb was serrated, catching deep in the metal, and the armor's regenerative matrix closed over the gash in a dull flash of teal energy, thus leaving the Wisp's tail trapped.

Aston was closest, and I knew she only had a second and a half, two at most, to save Hutch's life. Neither I, nor Neyla would have the opportunity. The first Wisp, and the second Diamond Dog were blocking both of our possible attack vectors.

I spared a ten thousandth of a second to fire off a prayer of thanks; The Wisp was engaging Neyla, leaving me to the Diamond Dog. Her greater speed, and experience were better suited to achieving some semblance of parity with the Wisp, while my slightly greater strength and bulk were better matched to the Troll.

Everything seemed to explode into motion at once. Aston made a dive over the top of her console, laying down a constant stream of particle pulses in the direction of the second Wisp, barely missing Hutch himself in the process.

The second Wisp pulled backwards reflexively, unintentionally jerking Hutch towards it, and into Aston's line of fire. Two bolts splashed off the back of Hutch's armor, doing little damage, before Aston ceased fire, dropping into a power slide across the deck.

At the same time, Neyla unsheathed one of her swords, dual wielding with her pistol in a fearsome combat stance I had never seen her use before.

For my own part, I pulled my sword from its scabbard, firing my particle pistol in overcharge mode directly into my opponent's helmet, before tossing the spent weapon aside, and shifting to a two-claw handhold over the bladed weapon.

Aston activated her armor's pulse jets at the last moment, slamming elbow-first into the side of the Wisp's skull, and maintaining thrust until she had driven it into the side of a console upright at nearly two hundred kilometers an hour.

The motion jerked Hutch forward once more, dragging him along behind the Wisp as he fought to free a combat knife from his right leg sheath.

Neyla ducked an initial swipe from her opponent's barbed tail, scoring a quick glancing blow on its side with her sword, before firing several shots from her pistol. In dodging the deadly particle streams, the Wisp was forced to open several lines of attack for Neyla's sword, but it gained an opportunity to strike at one of the least protected parts of Neyla's side.

The glancing blow drew blood, digging into her side nearly an inch before she spun away, and found a moment to deploy the rest of her armor. The tiny decrease in agility was a small price to pay for much greater protection.

I barely had time to deploy the rest of my own armor before my opponent hit me with a full body slam, exploiting the relatively small confines of the bridge to prevent me from using my wings properly.

Dropping to one knee from a bipedal stance, I fired my right side thruster simultaneously to help root me in place. The dull pain of a severe shock bruise blossomed across my right shoulder as the Troll's charge overwhelmed the armor's anti-kinetic layers, allowing the last of the energy to seep through.

As Aston began firing into the second Wisp's side point-blank, the creature lashed out with its front right hoof, leaving a tremendous gouge in Aston's right gauntlet, and a tiny trickle of blood.

Hutch finally managed to get his knife loose, and began wailing on the Wisp's damaged helmet, finally succeeding in pinning its skull to the side of the console upright by driving the K-bar right through the empty left eye socket, making use of the hole Aston's elbow had punched in the faceplate.

Neyla deflected a tail attack with her sword, using the opportunity to squeeze off an overcharged hit with her pistol that severed the Wisp's back left leg from its body. The moment the weapon was depleted, Neyla threw it, letting out an intense keening call of anger from the exertion. The pistol buried itself up to the butt in the Wisp's side armor, fracturing the mineral plating deeply.

As the din of combat filled the bridge, my focus intensified, allowing me a moment to analyze my own opponent more fully.

The Troll was a massive female, and she was just as angry, and desperate as I was, similarly armored, and making very good use of merely her own fisted paws for weapons.

I lacked the space I would have needed to make maximum use of my agility, severely crippling several of my most key biological advantages. I knew my main weapons would have to be technological, and mental. I could think infinitely faster than her, and my armor sported more useful modifications.

Allowing the Troll to get in a solid strike on my helmet, which put a sharp ragged dent in the outer armor layer, and set my head ringing, I primed my strike. The motion of her attack had left the Troll unable to retreat, or block, so I rammed my sword deep into her chest, firing my suit thrusters to force the weapon in deeper than my own strength alone could have ever managed.

The Troll screamed in pain, and I took the opportunity to fire the thrusters again, pushing the enemy off-balance. A third, and much larger pulse from the thrusters forced both of us across the bridge, the Troll skidding wildly, while I flared my wings to maintain a controlled stance.

The motion drove the Troll directly onto the raised tip of the first Wisp's tail, rooting it firmly between the Diamond Dog's shoulder blades, even as she clawed frantically by turn at my sword, and face, drawing rivulets of blood from my right cheek.

Neyla took the proffered opening, spinning to face Aston and Hutch's opponent, severing its tail in one smooth stroke, allowing Hutch total freedom of movement once more.

Hutch drew his own pistol at about the same time, delivering an overcharged shot to the Wisp's head that vaporized its unprotected skull entirely, not even leaving a trace of the energy being itself. A tiny part of my brain reasoned that it must have been overwhelmed by the energy field, unable to escape in time. That was, I decided, potentially quite useful information.

At the same moment, Aston spun, depleting her own carbine with a full overcharged shot to the tangled mass of Wisp and Troll that I had served up, vaporizing both of their heads simultaneously, and reducing a console on the far wall to a fine silicon mist with the backwash.

The entire exchange of motion, energy, and blood had only lasted thirteen seconds.

A moment of stillness ensued, filled only by the soft trill of alarms from every console, the hiss of sparks from damaged equipment, and the throaty sounds of panting from all quarters.

I finally managed to stop the ringing in my head, and dashed across to my station.

I delivered my report, while Aston began helping Hutch to his feet, and Neyla took stock of the Captain's display board.

"Intruder alarms have tripped here, in the forward torpedo room, and the main engineering section. None in ops, thankfully, but we've lost weapon control. Someone put the torpedoes and particle beams both into full lockdown with a command-level encryption. The only other good news is that our first volley definitely crippled the enemy weapon system, they haven't been able to fire since."

Neyla nodded, and spoke as she began making her way to the mission Ops Center doors, wincing as the ship shuddered from the impact of something happening further below deck.

"Ground teams report hundreds of intruders in the facility. The colony ships are above us, five hundred meters and climbing."

The doors to the Ops Center hissed open, revealing a scene of total chaos. Martins was crouched behind Alyra, who stood shoulder to shoulder with Skye, both pointing particle pistols at the door.

Consoles hung from the ceiling by their wires, the holotank was smashed, and doors to the connecting corridor had clearly been forced from the inside.

As Alyra and Skye holstered their pistols, faces awash with relief, I turned to take in the scene, eyes widening, voice filled with shock.

"What happened here?"

Chapter 12

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Sildinar

I exhaled slowly, and purposefully, keeping my sight picture steady the whole way through the movement. I easily brushed aside the faint temptation to shake my head ruefully; Were it not for the tense circumstances, my perch would have been a perfect, relaxing place to be on a beautiful day.

The sun had warmed the tile roof under the feathers of my chest to a perfect temperature, the air was balmy, with low humidity giving birth to a shockingly blue sky, punctuated here and there by gorgeous white cloud formations lofted on gentle, refreshing breezes.

It was the sort of day that was perfect for a rollicking flight, a cold drink, and then a long doze on a high perch.

I grit my beak. I knew full well that whether or not I would spend the evening celebrating, or mourning, would rest on the outcome of the moments ahead.

My eyes flicked briefly to the other Gryphons' sniper nests, briefly making reassuring eye contact.

I worked to suppress a low chuckle deep in my gut. 'Nest.' An ironic choice of term Humans had settled on for a Sniper's dug-in position. Humans may have coined the term, but I decided it was my kind who would truly do it justice for the first time.

My right ear flicked forward reflexively as the din of the crowd changed subtly in the distance. A far off set of coordinated hoofbeats and wing-beats, moving concurrently with the cheering, heralded Celestia's imminent arrival.

I cycled the weapon's action to chamber the first round, slowly, deliberately, sweeping my gaze across the crowd as I did so, and murmuring almost inaudibly.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

I kept my head centered, but allowed my eyes and ears to flit back and forth with practiced regularity.

The atmosphere of joy, and adulation pouring forth from the spectators added an additional layer of complication, dulling my emotional senses even as it crowded my physical ones.

Thousands of Ponies lined the streets, interspersed with the occasional Zebra, or Buffalo.

The panoply of colors alone was dazzling; Mane, fur, and clothing alike. Sunlight from the clear blue sky glistened on metal brooches, ornamental hoofguards, and all kinds of clasps.

A hidden weapon could come from any direction, and it would be almost impossible for me to spot it visually. Not for the first time, I wished that Celestia had not stripped away the Gryphon lifecode I had once been sent to steal.

A partial morph of a Gryphon's eyes, and unique optical processing brain structures, would be able to make sense of the crowd ten thousand times over, with plenty of mental headroom to spare.

Shaking myself internally, I remembered that I had several pairs of Gryphon eyes covering that for me already. As I stole a furtive glance in Stan's direction, I reflected on my one shared advantage, and my two unique ones.

I had all the agility of a Gryphon, from my Changeling side, or all the speed of a Pegasus, though not both at once. And I had two things a Gryphon never would; The ability to take the hit of a blade, hoof, spell, claw, or arrow to a vital organ, at least once, and suffer no lasting injury whatsoever.

And I had the ability to sense emotional affect.

Any other living being would need to rely on not only their senses, but slips and tell tale signs given off by their quarry. I could determine malintent no matter how good the attacker was at cloaking outward physical indicators.

They would have to drop their mental shields to attack. The concentration needed to keep me from pinpointing them in an instant was too intense to maintain while calculating a strike. I knew that intimately, from repeated personal experience.

I had been in the infiltrator's hooves countless times. That too was a unique advantage only I could lay claim to.

Nonetheless, I found it frustrating. Gritting my teeth, I suppressed an instinctive urge to react violently as the carriage jolted over a particularly rough cobblestone.

I could sense that the attacker was present. Even proximate. But the intense concentration of the guards around us, and the equally intense admiration, and happiness of the crowds, created an opaque haze of emotion.

It was a miasma, like thick smoke from a fire, the kind that clung to fur, and nostrils, eyes, and lungs, fouling every sense.

The most I could glean was that the attacker was likely to my left. Stan would unfortunately be the first in the line of fire, if that was the case. Again I had to shake myself; He was far from the inexperienced, oblivious dolt I had first run into all those years ago.

I had invested a hoof in some of his training personally. And anything I had failed to beat into him, I knew the Gryphons would have covered ten times over to boot. Stan was probably one of the only Ponies alive who could lay Shining Armor out flat on his rump in a fair bout.

Something I half hoped I'd get the chance to see him do.

He was no showboating all-flare, no-fight Wonderbolt.
Not anymore.

And to me, though I wouldn't have admitted if asked, that was a comforting thought.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Alyra

"Maintain ascent speed. The safest place for you right now is orbit. Any cover your point defense can give is appreciated, but do not alter course, or shortchange your own defensive cordon."

Martins' tone left no room for interpretation in her instructions. None of the ships' captains seemed inclined to disagree regardless; They all knew how many lives were in their collective hands, hooves, and claws.

Based on the data filling the central holotank, it looked as if their help would be unnecessary. The Shenzhou's first volley had crippled the enemy's forward weapons.

I knew Mom and Dad had conspired to load and prepare Shenzhou's weapons. Dad had clued me in on some of the details right before we launched the ship to put it out of reach of anyone on the ground.

In case I needed to brief anyone else, he had told me the complete weapon compliment, right down to the six HASP Heavy Anti Starship Projectile antimatter-tipped torpedoes.

If Shenzhou's particle lances had pierced the enemy defenses, and eliminated subsystems in the first volley, only one HASP would be needed to cripple, or even destroy the enemy ship. I understood the math well enough to know that. It made the angular, nasty looking silhouette of the enemy ship a lot less intimidating to look at.

"Shouldn't have poked the bear."

I noted the Councilor's murmured sentiment, and raised one eyebrow. Martins smirked, and shook her head, elaborating aloud.

"They probably came in here expecting to face ground security forces, equipped with railguns. A few anti air missile batteries. Maybe even the anti-asteroid point defenses on the colony ships. Instead, they got several dozen gigawatts of particle energy crammed down their throats. Whoever they are, the PER didn't pay them enough to die today. And they probably won't live long enough to really contemplate regretting it."

Skye chuckled grimly as she peered over Astris shoulder at a tactical readout, adopting a mockingly contrite sing-song tone.

"Dear Humanity; So sorry. We had no idea you had something that could harness the power of hyper-accelerated particles at this magnitude. No punch back?"

Astris shook his head, and exhaled, frustration and disdain written clearly all over his muzzle, and oozing forth undisguised from his words.

"No, you pedantic mammal, we knew *exactly* how your weapons worked before we decided to 'poke the bear.' We simply have other advantages that make your unexpectedly timed display of raw firepower... Irrelevant."

Silence descended like an iron weight.

I could feel the bottom drop out of my stomach in all too familiar a way, as the meaning of Astris' words registered with my mind fully.

Martins stared blankly, eyes wide with a blend of shock, and non comprehension. Skye backpedalled furiously, as we both noted a subtle red glow forming around the edges of Astris' eyes, and horn.

I was the only one to fully apprehend the danger in time, drawing my pistol instantly. In the relative quiet of the tense interlude, the whine of the capacitor was blatantly audible, underscoring the weapon's potential power forcefully.

Martins finally found her voice, gripping the edge of the holotank with her fingers, to the degree that the blood flushed out of the tips entirely. Her voice was equally strained.

"You?! You are the mole? Astris... Why?"

The Unicorn snorted, and shook his head, hooves dancing across the control panel before him with casual, almost arrogant ease, that was mirrored in his tone, and expression.

"Astris had no say in the matter. Indeed, he's been most distressed these past months. What's left of him. Even now, he knows your feeble attempt at surprise tactics is futile. His despair is palpable."

The possessed Astris whipped his head to the side, and his horn began to glow more brightly with sickly red magic, as his eyes bored into mine. I didn't flinch as Astris' voice took on an otherworldly quality, and a threatening edge. I knew his kind. Wisp or no, an enemy like that demanded absolutely iron will in response.

Show no fear.

I had a lot of experience with hiding, and suppressing fear.

"Put. The Weapon. Down. Child."

I moved my right index talon purposefully from the ready-safe position onto the trigger, ears flattening, and eyes narrowing as my voice matched Astris' threatening register note-for-note.

"I'll lay you out so fast that no one else in the room will even be able to see it while it’s happening."

To Martins, and most of the mission ops crew, the battle erupted in the space of a microsecond. For me, Astris, Skye, and the other Equestrians in the room, it was a noticeable and tense pause. Calm before the storm.

I fired first, Gryphon instinct beating out all else. The Wisp's mind was equally fast, if not faster, but his stolen body was considerably hampered by Unicorn biological limits. His magic, however, was not.

The blast from the particle pistol was effortlessly deflected by Astris' thaumatic shield, blue bolt pinging off interlocked red hexagonal fields. Auntie Skye, bless her, was prepared with a follow-through, letting loose with a stun blast that looked, to my eyes, powerful enough to knock out even Dad in the unlikely event it could land a direct hit.

Astris was far ahead of Skye, however, having already begun to duck before the other Unicorn even fired. The moment his shield was no longer a necessity, he re-threaded the spellweave, and launched the energy directly at Skye's head, crackling with visibly lethal power.

While Skye's mind was not nearly so fast as mine, or the Wisp's, it was still more than quick enough, and wise enough, to save her life. She had begun her own ducking manuever the second her attack blast left the tip of her horn.

Astris' bolt whizzed past her left ear, slamming into the ceiling of the chamber, and dislodging several display panels. As I drew my sword, and backflipped away with the assistance of my armor thrusters, Skye ducked around the side of the holotank, engaging Astris in a running firefight composed of blue and red thaumatic bolts, several of which shredded most of the holotank's internals as they missed.

The Wisp was hampered by the fact that he was outnumbered, doubly so as a result of my body being up to the task of matching my mind, where his was lacking. Though he launched half a dozen blasts at me, I batted them aside using my sword with practiced ease, returning fire mercilessly with the pistol.

The Wisp had no intention of winning the fight, however. He only wanted to escape.

Within seconds, Astris had reached the door, and blasted it away, ducking around the corner and out of sight under the cover of a particularly vicious barrage of magic pulses.

Skye exhaled sharply, and slammed one hoof against the holotank's remains, spinning around to take stock of Astris' workstation, and the commands he had entered. After a brief tense moment where her hooves and magic flew over the console, she exhaled reassuringly.

"It looks like he intended to set the main weapons to fire on the other ships. Alyra pulled a fast save there... We had literally seconds leftover."

Martins pursed her lips, and glanced up at the ceiling. It seemed to be her habit when addressing voice commands to any digital system. It was a pretty common Human gesture. Even I'd done it unconsciously, the few times I'd ever addressed an AI.

"Computer, lock out all weapons and external tactical functions. Authorization Martins, Pi one one three eight."

I bounded towards the door, tossing hurried breathless words over one wing as I went.

"C'mon! We can still catch him!"

The sound of screams, weapons fire, and shaking deck plating issuing forth from the bridge doors, spun me a hundred and eighty degrees in my tracks instantly, all trace of intent to pursue wiped from my mind.

Dad. Mom.

Trouble.

As I instinctively took up a defensive position by the door, Skye joined me, gesturing with one hoof for Martins to take cover behind us.

Skye and I exchanged a single glance, wordlessly agreeing to wait for the enemy to come to us, should they survive whatever was going on in there, rather than force the door.

To everyone's relief, after another four seconds the doors parted to reveal Neyla, framed from behind by a scene of absolute carnage. Father came into view over her shoulder, eyes widening as he spoke, taking in the disheveled state of the compartment all the while.

"What happened here?"

As Skye and I holstered our pistols, Martins spoke in angry clipped tones. The Councilor locked eyes with Dad, and then Mom, while I dashed forward, pulling both into a hug.

"Astris is the mole. He's been possessed by... Something."

Skye nodded, and glowered at the remains of the fight, a similarly frustrated note pervading her words as she quickly assessed what Astris had done via his workstation before instigating the firefight.

"A Wisp. He tried to set our guns to fire on the other ships. Alyra put a stop to it. We've locked down the weapons systems to prevent him from trying again."

Dad pulled me close under one wing, beaming down with a clear expression of pride, before allowing his frustration to regain a solid hold. Words poured from his beak as quickly as he could form them, while his mind ranged ahead, trying to suss out various possible outcomes.

"We can't risk re-activating any weapon systems until all boarders are repelled. Intruder alarms went off for the bridge, engineering, and forward torpedo room. If he doesn't know we disabled the weapon systems, he soon will, and he'll call for backup troops if they're available. The other two compartments represent the enemy's best chances at taking out not just Shenzhou, but the other ships, and even the compound as a whole."

Neyla nodded, having clearly reached the same conclusions, verbally tying together the train of thought eloquently for everyone with a single word.

"Antimatter."

Skye nodded, and groaned, elaborating as her lightning intellect made the same logical leaps.

"The core is the largest store of it, but it won't be as easy for him to weaponize. If he could just shove two of our four torpedoes out the forward launch doors, and set off the others inside, that would set off a chain reaction, blowing away us, the compound, and the colony ships."

Martins glanced at a status display, raising an eyebrow and inhaling deeply before speaking.

"How long until the enemy can fire their own weapons again?"

Dad shook his head, and moved to the room's emergency weapons locker, removing two carbines, and several pistols as he spoke.

"Not soon enough to be a primary concern. They obviously had no idea how our particle beams would affect their shields until it actually happened. I don't think they expected them to be so effective, even knowing as much as they doubtless do through Astris... Our only concern now is to secure engineering, and the torpedo room, before he gets ahold of that antimatter."

Mom nodded emphatically as Dad passed her one of the carbines, then moved on to me, Skye, and Martins with the pistols, providing us each with double armament taken together with the sidearms we already had.

Skye snorted, and forced a breath upwards from her muzzle, pushing aside a stray lock of her mane. She took the pistol from Dad in her Thaumatic field, checking the power cell action and the safety as she spoke.

"We'll stay here. Defend Mission Ops, and the bridge. I'll try to cut through the communications jamming, see if we can call for backup. We'll be ready to open fire on spiky, scary, and ugly out there just as soon as you give the word."

Neyla cycled the capacitor of her own weapon as she finished explaining the shared line of thinking aloud.

"We're a skeleton crew. Once the critical compartments are secure, we seal them, then flood the remainder of the ship with spillover from the coolant loop, effectively killing any present, or future boarders without harming anyone else, or having to hunt them down. At this stage the potential damage is the least of our concerns. We can then fire the particle beams again and, as you Humans say..."

She shouldered the carbine, unintentionally striking a fearsome, absolutely awesome pose as she completed the thought.

"...Nail them to the wall."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

"I know what you're doing. It won't help you. Or her."

I violently suppressed my initial reaction to the Changeling's words, both physical, and mental, doing my dead-level best to cover for it with the expected, near constant anxiety of the situation.

The jig wasn't necessarily up yet.

I was forced to suppress relief, in like kind, at the infiltrator's next words.

"You can't trip me up by babbling incessantly. I can simply shut that part of you out. I know you as well as you know yourself already. She won't see me coming. She can't. Her love for you blinds her."

I resumed my rhythmic, slow, intentional wriggling, desperately working to get into the position I needed to get to the next part of my daring little plan.

I didn't need the Changeling to slip up. That wasn't even on the table as far as I was concerned. A significant portion of my training with IJ had dealt with the intricacies of Changeling abilities, including infiltrators.

The vital element in the situation, the x-factor that I was counting on to snatch victory from the fire, was that knowledge. And the fact that my opponent knew jack spit about it.

I was fully aware the Changeling had far too much focus, and far too fast a brain, to be tripped up by simple conversation. But to be as safe as possible, the infiltrator needed to block out some of the distraction. Dull his connection to me.

Particularly his senses.

That was my chance to damage the containment pod's sac, and escape, before the Changeling could do anything about it. Though the pod itself had a degree of ability to dispense sedative, it was limited. It was also effectively an extension of the Changeling, separated though they were.

If the infiltrator knew what I intended, I knew he would likely be rendered unconscious before I even had time to comprehend what was happening. I'd been knocked out before. Quite recently. I wasn't lookin' for a repeat.

I got back to my inane jabbering, silently praying all the while that the infiltrator was well and truly pre-occupied. Both with his task, and with dulling our link.

"You know, I never actually finished physics at college. I cheated my way past it. College... That's a scam of an institution where Humans pay to go get drunk off their asses, party, waste money, and finally cheat their way into a scrap of paper that raises their likelihood of getting a decent job from zilch, to maybe one in thirty..."

I flexed my wings as hard as I dared, transferring a significant amount of the energy from the wriggling motion outwards into the pod. I tensed inwardly, but nothing changed. If anything, the image of the Changeling's viewpoint dulled further.

"...Not that we should need them for the most part, logistically speaking. Jobs I mean. Though I guess colleges either... Post-singularity safety nets and all that... If they were actually any good..."

Emboldened, I began to slosh gently back and forth inside the sac, fighting mightily against the sedative.

"...But I do remember *High School* physics. High School was such a God-awful place. Worse than College. It's like a torture device specifically crafted to suck the life out of Human pupae. Or what you'd call Human pupae. But hey, the resemblance is strong; Awkward phase between being young, and being an adult, where a Human is mostly smelly, slimy, doesn't move or say much..."

As the pod began to develop a real swing, I began to time my wing jerks and hoof motions to coincide with the pod's motion, imparting further momentum each time, though at a maddeningly slow rate.

"But see, I do remember that part of it. And I have a friend. You'll probably never meet her. I'm going to rip out your colon and feed it to you first. But she's an amazing Unicorn. And a bit of a mad scientist..."

I knew by that point that I was talking as much to stay lucid as I was to keep the Infiltrator's link dulled. I could almost taste my objective, even more powerfully than the sickly-sweet ooze of the sac venom.

It was so close.

The surface of the room's desk whizzed by underneath, adding to the dizzying effect of the sedative, but it wasn't quite enough.

The object I was aiming for was on the very far edge of the rolltop.

"...She's taught me a lot. But don't you dare tell her. Not that you'll live to meet her. I'm going to kill you when this conversation is over, so I hope you're enjoying the time you've got left. Anyhow, one of the things she's taught me a bit about, is the science of electricity. One of those things they don't know much about over here. Thaumatics 'n all that. Magic and Tesla's mojo apparently take a lot of coaxing to mix..."

I winced, and shivered. A sensation of cold, and numbness began to race down my bones. As the sac sloshed back and forth, more and more of the sedative was eeking into my system.

"...But mix, they can. And ya' see, I'm a Pegasus, and one of my best friends is a physics nut...

At last, the pod brushed against the object, ever so slightly. I knew he had to get the timing right on the next swing, or the only hope of escape would be knocked to the floor. The world seemed to constrict down into a tiny point of amber light. I hoped the consequences of my actions would not only cut me loose, but would also give my body the jolt of juice it needed to be combat-ready.

"So I know how to make magical lightning."

As the sac again touched the mage light perched on the desk's edge, I concentrated, pouring every ounce of my will into my wings.

For a split second, my heart dropped, and the world turned to endless black. A tiny electric spark passed between the mage light, and my wing, but nothing else happened.

The sensation of falling backwards into unconsciousness only lasted a tenth of a second.

Instantly, blackness turned to pure white. I couldn't hear the sound; My ear-drums were too busy crapping themselves to death. All I could process was a loud ringing.

Any bystander without Pegasus, or Gryphon eyes would have been blinded. Any Human woulda been permanently deafened.

The maglight vaporized, as did most of the material of the containment pod. Lightning raced across my wings, and into every metal object in the room, melting several of the more conductive items, including parts of a small tea service as it sought the best paths through the mage-light to ground.

Every feather, and every hair of fur on my body went rigid with the shock; But they, like everything else inside and on me, were completely protected by those God-blessed natural Pegasus affinities.

Rather than blasting my heart and brain into refried pork, the miniature thaumatic lightning strike behaved like a fast-charging cable, dumping wild unfettered energy into every cell of my body.

What a rush!

I stood for only a moment, chest heaving as foul smelling steam from vaporized sac fluid outgassed from my blazing-hot feathers. They were still glowing.

I knew that the infiltrator would have noticed the severance of the link immediately.

There were moments left. At best.

I raised my head, and glowered out the window, gritting my teeth until my jaw protested as I began to build up energy in my wings again.

A whole hell of a lot of energy.

Though I knew the Changeling couldn't hear me, I muttered under my breath as I began the run-up to the window, closing my eyes and bracing for the impact of the glass.

"Time's up."

I was about to pull what the kids used to call 'a pro gamer move.'

Chapter 13

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Aston

"Kid, you look genuinely scary in that thing."

Hutch gestured with his free hand in Alyra's general direction. His other hand was preoccupied with keeping a pistol in a safe, but ready position. He wasn't kidding. Done up in the Genesist combat suit, that little Gryphon could put any Earthgov image of an intimidating power-armored trooper, or mech, to shame. Without even trying.

Martins interjected her own commentary, her eyes never leaving the command center's main wall screen. The Councilor was perched, arms resting against the dead holotank's edges, staring intently at the small translucent three dimensional icons that represented the colony ships, and their ascent trajectories.

"We designed the Gryphon armor to be intimidating. Very intentionally. Sometimes you want to negotiate, and it pays to have an air of power. And when negotiation isn't an option..."

Silence hung for an ominous moment. Just like her to think around all angles of a potential issue. She was just the sort of person who would consider armor design as a factor in future negotiations with hypothetical alien governments. Less hypothetical, in fairness, than they had once been.

Abruptly, the tension skyrocketed, as Alyra silently raised a fisted claw, one ear twitching furiously. We all knew better than to ignore the kid's instincts. She was one of the best soldiers I'd ever worked with.

Better than her Dad as far as I was concerned, though mainly because I felt like he lacked discipline. Alyra certainly didn't.

She paused for half a second, before gesturing towards the main corridor access hatch, and levelling her pistol purposefully.

Hutch fired his suit's pulse jets in two short, expertly timed bursts, pushing his feet and back against the wall, and flicking a control on his left gauntlet. With a distinctly metallic 'thunk,' electromagnet pads in the soles of the boots, and the shoulder blades, pinned him place, providing an unexpected and highly advantageous firing position.

I loved it when he thought outside the box.

I rolled silently over the central holotank, and ducked behind a console near the port-side of the access hatch. Martins wisely took full cover behind a rear station, readying both of her sidearms to fire after the enemy had become entangled with the others.

We didn't have to wait long.

Our intruders moved quietly, considering their size and weight. But Diamond Dog Trolls weren't known for their stealth capabilities. 'Quietly' for them still shook your teeth if they were less than twenty feet away.

Peeking around the base of the console, I could see the two armor-clad canines enter the compartment. They immediately fixed their eyes on Alyra, and began lumbering purposefully towards the central holotank, flexing their front claws menacingly.

She didn't even flinch, waiting until they had closed half the distance before opening up with her pistol like an Olympic champion.

The spray of fire forced the Trolls to dive for cover. The first one practically came right to me, and got a face full of particle energy from my own weapon for his trouble. The lance of blue went right through the weak point Alyra had made in the helmet's frontal plate, pulping everything inside instantly.

The second Toll ducked behind the holotank. As he moved to shimmy around the side for an angle on Alyra, Martins popped up and peppered his chest with fire. That was all the invitation Hutch needed.

As the Troll did his best to shift focus from Alyra to Martins, Hutch fired from his ceiling position, four solid shots to the Troll's spinal armor. The force of the impacts pressed him to the floor, but didn't quite penetrate the stronger plating. Their armor seemed to be weakest around the seams of the helmet, and the faceplate.

Everything else was dense as hell.

The Troll made a vain scrabbling effort to rise, but two against four in a surprise ambush was overwhelming odds, no matter what you were, or what you were wearing. Alyra had used the moment of distraction to amble around the other side of the holotank, striding purposefully on her hind legs.

She whistled sharply through her beak. Her opponent turned reflexively at the sound, placing the pre-weakened portion of his helmet, that she had already hit once, right into her point-blank firing line.

If Alyra flinched, hesitated, or even gave a moment's consideration before executing the Troll, I sure didn't see it. Just an ever-so-slight smirk at one corner of her beak as her pistol filled the room with blue light twice more in rapid succession.

I stood from my cover position, scowled down at the Troll draped over my console, and pushed him off onto the floor. It took most of my upper body strength to shift him. As the carcass collapsed into a heap on the deck, I leaned on the panel and let out my own long, low whistle.

"Kid, I think your dad worries too much. Are you sure you aren't the one protecting him, instead of the other way around?"

All I got by way of a response was a raised eyebrow. Or whatever part of the feathers was most analogous.

Maybe Hutch was right, I decided. Maybe we needed to get ourselves some of those feathers sooner than later.

Fyrenn

Our pawsteps were completely silent against the deck, pads cushioning each step against the rubberized coating that insulated the metal of the panels. The space still felt as if it was echoing.

Empty spacecraft meant for large crews had been the stuff of my nightmares as a kid. I had always consumed an inordinate amount of science fiction, including more than my fair share of material that was age inappropriate.

Though I had gotten used to the greatly diminished sense of fear one felt as a Gryphon, mamalliam prey instincts long-since excised, I had not lost the ability to sense when something was not right. If anything, that instinct had only grown stronger, and more accurate.

As Neyla and I quickly leapfrogged our way from bulkhead, to stanchion, to door-frame, and so on through the ship's cavernous empty corridors, the sensation that something was not right became overwhelming. And I knew for a fact that it wasn't simply the eerie notion of walking alone through passageways intended to be filled with the hustle and bustle of life during loading and unloading.

I also knew Neyla was feeling the exact same sensation, without the need to verbalize any sort of question. Scientists and mage practitioners alike insisted that neither Humans, nor Gryphons, nor indeed most species, were telepathic.

As far as I was concerned, that depended on definitions and semantics. I'd experienced totally silent hands-free communication of complex concepts as a Marine, based on nothing more than common training and instinct, and God-only-knows what kind of quantum or pheromonal cues.

Other species knew and accepted the phenomena as well. But everyone agreed, us included, that what Neyla and I had was a cut above average. Even for Gryphons. It wasn't unheard of, just rare. Even IJ had commented on it once, with a surprising amount of admiration, both for her in particular, and for a truly telepathic individual in general.

As we approached the hatch leading into the forward torpedo racks, we didn't even exchange so much as a claw signal. Neyla moved into a position to the right of the hatch, I stood just to the left off-center and back slightly.

She paused for a single breath, then gently laid one talon against the access control panel. I raised my carbine simultaneously, placing the door firmly within the iron sights.

Perceived time elongated under my impetus as the door recessed into the wall with a slight hiss and a clank. I was in no rush. I carefully evaluated every square millimeter of the torpedo rack room as it came into view. The sinking feeling in my gut grew with each inch the door retracted.

At last, the chamber was revealed in full.

Nothing. Empty of life.

Vertical stacks of oblong gray warheads sat lined up in perfect rows, mag-locked into receptacles along the chamber walls to keep them safe. Myriad smaller conventional-explosive torpedoes, and four larger slots for HASP strategic weapons. One single space from among the latter was visibly empty, standing out like a hang-feather in a row of perfect primaries.

Not good.

Two enormous heavy duty robotic arms were folded into pits in the ceiling, their magnetic guide tracks snaking out into a pattern that would grant them access to anything in the room. On the far bulkhead sat two large circular airlock doors; The entry points to the firing tubes.

Just fore of the entry door sat a standing console within a painted rectangular cushion stripe pattern on the floor. The rectangle extended backwards all the way to the entry door, marking the part of the chamber that it was safe to stand or walk in when the arms were active.

I scanned the space again, searching carefully for any place that a life form, regardless of size, might hide. My ears twitched reflexively as I strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. The slightest hint of breath, or the shifting of weight.

Silence. Stillness.
Nothing untoward.

Except the missing antimatter torpedo.

I lowered my carbine as Neyla's ears flattened, and her combat readiness posture evaporated into a stance that said 'frustration' about as clearly as the scowl I could feel forming on my own beak.

I stamped one back paw, fervently praying damnation on the conniving vile thing twisted up inside Astris' head, playing multiple moves ahead of me.

"Dammit. Why would they take a warhead, and then leave? Why not set them all off, or try to push one out manually?"

Neyla stepped into the chamber, striding purposefully down to the tube access hatches. She rapped one fisted claw against the portals, and shook her head. I picked up the meaning, even as she provided words to match.

"When Martins locked out the weapons grid, the tubes sealed. It would take hours of slicing and yanking, even for something as strong as a Troll, to get one of these off. Much easier to just do what they were going to do before, with the bombs. Much bigger explosion too. When the core goes, all of the weapons in here will too."

I nodded, and glanced back up the corridor, already starting mental calculations on the amount of time it would take to reach the main reactor chamber. I tapped the comms activation plate on the side of my helmet, and narrowed my eyes.

"Forward torpedo rack is clear. The intruders took one HASP before the lockdown came into effect, and moved on."

Coming to the torpedo rack had been a gamble, but one I felt was necessary. It would take much less time to set off a torpedo there, than any sort of mucking about with the Matter/Antimatter Reactor Core itself. We had no way initially to know whether the enemy valued a larger explosion enough to pass up the opportunity at a fairly substantial, smaller, but much more immediate one.

But it wasn't a question anymore. Apparently bigger was better after all.

While the core could be much more devastating, the torpedoes had been a more immediate concern. But the math still held. We still had time to prevent a disaster.

Neyla and I attached our carbines to the hardpoints between our wings in almost perfect synchronization, dropping to all fours and breaking into a leopard-style lope down the corridors, too small and twisting to safely use the suit's thrusters all-out, which would have doubtless been much faster. To say nothing of the drain on the suit's power cells. Which I had a sinking feeling we'd need at full capacity.

Gryphons couldn't hope to keep pace with a Pony on four legs for very long. All our endurance was centered in our wings, and in the muscle groups that would be most useful in close-up combat maneuvers. But for a few minutes' sprint we could run with the best of any quadrupedal species, past or present.

I'd never been more grateful for the feline side of myself than that exact moment.

Decking flew away beneath us, support braces and corridor junctions whipping past, as Skye's reply came over both our headsets.

"We *just* lost access to the doors, cameras, and environmental systems in the engine compartment. I don't think they have control either, they probably just pulled the right fuses to keep us from locking everything up, though the main doors will fail-closed in a power outage. We managed to get the core controls locked down, but they won't care. It will still take some work for them to get the torpedo setup for a manual detonation, and for them to directly physically disengage some of the antimatter containment safeties, if they want to increase their chances."

I growled deep in my chest reflexively as Neyla and I leapt up briefly onto a section of wall to help make a tight turn into a perpendicular corridor.

"How long?"

Skye's voice came back firm, even reassuring. But I could still detect a tiny hint of worry.

"Three to five minutes."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Carradan

My world was speed. Towers, spires, weather vanes, windows; It all stretched out into an elongated tube of 'holy spit that's fast!'

My hooves had provided the initial force to get me moving, but it was nothing compared to what happened when my wings beat for the first time after I cleared the shower of window glass. I thought I'd moved at a pretty good clip in the past. I'd shown up the Gryphons more than once in a straight line contest.

My whole perspective got rearranged in a hurry.

Suddenly everything I'd ever done before was slow as a tar drip on a cold February morning. I finally understood why we Pegasi needed to be able to see things in 'bullet time.'

Gryphons needed it to fight. We needed it to fly.

By the time I'd gone one block, I was movin' so fast that I knew a Human brain woulda got me killed in a hurry. I didn't need fancy math to know that reaction times at what I guessed was around six hundred kph were trash for a monkey, no matter how new and advanced the model.

For me, that one block of street seemed to pass in about four seconds. Judging by the way everypony in the street below was goin' in extremely slow motion, it had been a hay of a lot shorter than that in real seconds.

And I was still accelerating. Hard.

I knew what a Mach number was. Most Humans probably did, supersonic business and military jets were pretty ubiquitous. Fyrenn had gabbed enough about military aviation to give me a bit more know-how, but it wasn't much.

I did know what a moisture cone was tho. Not all of the exactly 'why,' but most of the 'what' at least. So I knew what it was when one started to form just off the tip of my muzzle.

And I had the faintest idea what would happen next.

That did nothing to prepare me tho. Let me tell you.

In an instant, every part of me felt as if I'd taken a muzzle-first impact into concrete. And then the bone-jarring sense of velocity vanished. Air currents that had felt like they wanted to rip my feathers out by the stems suddenly became smooth, undisturbed flow. Like passin' through water almost, but not so thick. Or wet.

Everything outside of me seemed to cut its own speed in half yet again. I had plenty of time to wonder if that was the speed at which Gryphons saw things in combat, before suddenly realizing that I couldn't hear much of anything.

The roar of the wind going past my ears had vanished into quiet low hiss, like a gentle afternoon breeze.

Suddenly, the word in front of me was cast in bright cyan and salmon colors. Very familiar colors. I didn't dare to turn my head, for fear of breaking my aerodynamic profile. Fatally.

I had plenty of time to scope out the parade. The new armor looked just as nice as I'd hoped it would... It was a pity some face-stealing bucker was wearing it. And my face.

I had plenty of time to spot the Gryphons in their hidden perches too, and to see their eyes track towards me in surprise. To see IJ, already turnin' her head towards my doppelganger. And was that an angry snarl on her muzzle?

It was at that moment that time ran out. I tucked my wings, rolled slightly, and made darn sure to wave as I passed within about two inches of face-steal-mcgee's shocked mug.

Damn, did I ever have a nice looking jaw. The white coat and blue mane were actually pretty dashing too, especially in the new armor.

My own jaw stayed firmly attached, grinnin' like the devil as I pulled into a shallow bank climb, and finally started to bleed some speed.

As my turn brought me around enough to see my dupe's face again, his jaw was decidedly worse for wear. The force of my blow-through pass had not been kind to my beautiful face, no siree.

But there could only be one Stanley Carradan at the party, and *I* was not gonna be the one to change.

I knew it wasn't Stan.

I had known for almost four full seconds before the infiltrator realized that I knew. All I needed at that point was an opening. A moment to strike in such a way that he would have no time to recover, or to detonate himself, or to stab the Princess.

Nothing could have prepared me for the way in which Stan, the real Stan, presented that opportunity. A blur of color, streaked with the distinctive natural hues of his coat, mane, and tail, whipped past within a tenth of a second.

My training kicked in quickly enough to spare me any real harm, but not quite speedily enough to save my ears a great deal of pain.

The after-image of Stan's passage was followed very quickly by a bone-rattling explosive sound, and a bright flash of teal and pink in a radiant shockwave that overwhelmed the sun for a brief moment.

I'd spent plenty of time around Pegasi. *As* a Pegasus. I had enough time to know what was coming. By the time the leading edge of the sonic rainboom hit, my eyes were already squinted, and my legs locked. Pegasus eyes weren't quite Gryphon eyes, but they still had much better shock and flare tolerance than any other kind of Pony. Or Changeling.

Forcing my perceptions to slow, I watched as the wake of Stan's low-pass tore at the infiltrator's head, dislocating his jaw, splitting his horn, and ripping him from his place in the formation.

The moment the physical shock passed, I whipped out the hidden blades on my foreleg gauntlets, and struck without hesitation, or mercy.

My blades plunged into both sides of my enemy's head before his body even hit the ground, even as it began to revert from white fur to black chitin.

And then I heard another loud 'CRACK!'

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

The first bolt came as a slight surprise, but not enough to land an impact. I still had plenty of time to move my head slightly to the left, and let the streak of angry black and purple energy pass by harmlessly. I felt the tiniest nip of static electricity on the tuft of my left ear.

Bleeding speed into the deck with a grunt, I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that the designers had coated the plating in a 'coin patterned' grippy hardened rubber.

I switched to a bipedal stance, drew my carbine, aimed, and fired in a single smooth motion. Particle weapons were unlike anything I'd ever fired before. And I had certainly fired my share of Equestrian and Human armaments, of every shape and size.

The main oddity, and main benefit to me, was the greatly diminished kickback relative to the weapon's stopping power. Railguns and well calibrated crossbows could be quite precise in a Gryphon's claws, but slight errors induced by kickback, machining tolerances, gravity, wind, spin-drift, and coriolis effects, could still result in a loss of a few millimeters of precision at range.

Not so with a particle weapon. The bolts did produce a slight pushback in the weapons, but they were otherwise affected so little by environmental conditions that one only needed to worry about gravitational or coriolis effect at extreme range.

I could see the enemy preparing to return fire; Three Trolls in full black armor, with peculiar spiky rock-like particle weapons of their own.

With the flick of a talon to the control pad on my left foreleg, I deployed the heavy plating of my armor, and spread both wings into a defensive shell for Fyrenn.

The maneuver blocked several follow-on bolts from the aggressors as my first shot hit home, and Fyrenn pivoted to stand back-to-back with me, fully protected.

I scanned my targets briefly before settling on the first one to kill outright. Six more lances spat from my weapon in less time than it would take to describe in simplest terms, perforating the Troll's helmet through-and-through, each bolt hitting exactly the same spot as the previous.

The Genesist particle weapons were indeed strange, but they were certainly effective. Our weapons could overmatch their armor, and in turn theirs seemed to be having more trouble depleting ours.

I decided I liked both the weapon, and the armor, very much indeed.

My power cell spent, I tucked the heel of one back paw, and exchanged places smoothly with Fyrenn, walking in reverse up against his back as his armored wings provided cover for me to reload, while he fired and advanced.

In the time it took me to eject the spent power cell and ram a new one into the receptacle, Fyrenn had forced the other two Trolls into cover with a withering hail of particle beams, expending his own power cell in the process, and gaining us twenty feet of corridor.

We spun again, exchanging places once more, and I grinned to myself as I picked out the new enemy cover positions behind the corridor's farthest support stanchions. If battle was to be the closest I'd come to dancing with my love, then battle was to be savored. Even more than usual.

As if in response to my thoughts, he spoke as I kept up the stream of fire, and he reloaded.

"You know, if we live through this? I think I at least owe you a real dinner date, and a real dance. Just the two of us."

I shifted firing tactics to a suppressive barrage. Neither of the two remaining Trolls seemed keen to pit their lumbering low agility against our unfailing aim. They wanted to force us into melee range, where they would hold a more equal standing.

Nonetheless, it wouldn't do to allow them to poke out their heads unnecessarily, and we had ammunition to spare. So I varied rhythmic groupings of shots between the edges of each Troll's cover position, both hidden behind thick corridor support braces, making it impossible for either to so much as peek the tip of their helmet out without losing their head.

Because of my intense combat focus, it took me almost a full second to comprehend what Fyrenn had said. The words elevated my heart rate farther than usual, even for the heat of battle. Hope bloomed beneath my chest feathers, fiery and sweet, lending me a kick of energy akin to being touched by a live wire.

I knew he meant what he'd said. Fyrenn did not play vapid games with words when dealing with matters of the heart.

As we switched places once more, I smiled broadly, even though I knew he could not see my face. I simply couldn't help myself. I knew the sentiment carried as much in the tone of my words, and in the words themselves.

"That would give me enough joy, and reason to live, to finish these mongrels all on my own with nothing but my beak and claws. I will hold you to it."

He fit his response in between the hiss and snap of his own shots. From the surprising lack of tension in his back muscles, I could sense that he was truly at ease. A miracle for which I breathed a deep prayer of thanks.

"I know you will. Best that we both live to make it so."

I held my smile, feeling the edges of my beak twist ever so slightly as it morphed into a predatory grin. I pressed on with added vigor, pivoting ninety degrees as we came level with our opponents, and unloading the remainder of my slotted power cell into the Troll's presumably quite stunned face.

As the particle lances bored a hole into his helmet, I could hear Fyrenn unleashing a similar barrage to my rear. An impact shock to my back an instant later told me that his Troll had been slightly more prepared than mine, and had engaged him paw to claw.

I could feel the heels of Fyrenn's back paws dig in, and I seized the opportunity his relative stability afforded us. With an angry hiss, I scissored my wings outwards, and pressed down hard with my back legs, pushing me into a backflip over the top of Fyrenn, and the second Troll.

When the moment was perfectly right, I reached out with my claws, snagged the Troll's helmet, and fired my suit's impulse thrusters in full reverse, beating my wings hard to add every last possible erg of thrust.

As always, Fyrenn knew what I was planning, and had sunk his own claws into the Troll's throat in preparation for the maneuver. His own pulse thrusters came on at exactly the same moment as mine.

The Troll's head left his neck with a satisfying 'POP!' accompanied by a raspy 'CRACK!' as the alloy of his thinner, more flexible neck plating gave way almost immediately to the torsional stress, along with his spine.

Normally such a feat against something so strong of bone would have been almost impossible, even for one of our kind vested with above average strength, but the impulse thrusters in the suits provided a quite significant amount of force.

Once my back paws had reached the deck again, and all had settled, I took a moment to examine the deceased's head and helmet with mild interest. The material was as much like polished basalt as anything else. Incredibly strong against sharp objects or projectiles. Less so against shearing stress perpendicular to its isotropy, or blasts of particle energy.

I grunted, and tossed the helmeted head over my shoulder, breaking out into another grin as I noted Fyrenn's expression. His visage was painted with an appropriate combination of amusement, awe, and something else. Something much deeper.

I raised an eyebrow and gestured down the corridor with one wing.

"Our dance awaits."

Hutch

"Got it!"

The most incredible sense of relief hit me as Skye shouted triumphantly from her position at the operations console. She and I had returned to man the bridge while Aston, Martins, and Alyra looked after Mission Ops.

My fingers flew over the Captain's console, my eyes only occasionally darting up to keep an eye on the data being projected to the main holodome. I'd never cared for typing classes, but adrenaline always seemed to boost my actions-per-minute somehow.

Skye's voice continued, her explanation lodging itself in the back of my mind as I scrambled to open communications with someone, anyone, before the enemy figured out what we had done.

"I got one of the ground security teams to patch a short range comm into the base fiber trunkline. From there I tunnelled into Alexandria's SatVision ground station. As long as they don't cut our local communications, which they may or may not be able to do without jamming themselves, then we have an uninterrupted connection to the outside."

At last, I coaxed what I wanted out of the system. Skye's workaround had made establishing an initial link to an encrypted endpoint slightly more complex, but I wasn't about to look the gift horse in the mouth. Literally, or figuratively.

I shot a smile, and a nod her way as I addressed the panel, and hopefully the officer on the other end.

"South Dakota, this is Hutchinson: JRSF hotel echo seven four five eight. Emergency. Priority one alert. Put me in touch with Actual, ASAP. My authenticator is tango niner six five echo three two six. Day-word is Amberjack."

The return voice from the console was clipped, professional, and reassuringly serious.

"Standby. Authenticating."

A soft click, and a series of tones, told me that my call had been transferred, and the opposite endpoint had switched to encrypted flag-level communications. That was a good sign.

"Hutch, this is Brendt. What the hell are you doing calling from a tunneled connection out of AfCom?"

I shook my head reflexively, forgetting that Captain Brendt couldn't see me. I'll just bet he heard the urgency and frustration in my voice though. I never did do much to hide it, even on the good days. Anyone who knew me well knew not to take it personally.

"Brendt, we're in deep shit here. We have a *flying* capital tonnage enemy object doing its damndest to poke holes in Lucapa with some kind of energy weapon. They're teleporting assault troops around the place like its an episode of Star Trek, and we can not return fire because if we unlock our weapons systems, they are going to torpedo the African continent with antimatter warheads. We need air support. And we need it now."

Brendt was, as far as I was concerned, our only hope. Earthgov Airforce planes out of Lagos would arrive faster if they left immediately, but not by much. If they left immediately. Which they wouldn't. Earthgov had increasingly begun to blackball JRSF officers in the crunch, routing our support requests through thicker and thicker stacks of red tape each time.

The Genesists were just about as unpopular as we were with the Council writ-large, to make matters worse.

South Dakota was Navy, and Navy belonged to the JRSF. Brendt was a Gryphon convert. And a long-time acquaintance. Simple math.

"XO, Bring the battlegroup up to combat alert alpha. Launch ready-fighters, have them link up with the CAP and standby for deployment coordinates. Have Akagi flush her bombers for immediate launch with heavy anti-armor payloads. Spin-up railguns and missile ordinance for long range surface bombardment support. Prepare Marine strike squads one thru five for hot deployment."

Hearing his orders over comm was soothing to my soul. Like good Equestrian comfort food after a long, awful day. I had to grit my jaw and remind myself that the day wasn't even close to over. Not yet.

"First-wave air support will be on station in fifteen minutes. We can launch bombardment support as soon as you feed us coordinate data. Marine strike groups will arrive in forty five to support mop-up. Callsign for first inbound air squadron is 'Menace.' Carrier Ops will send you the data for a direct comm patch."

I grinned and shook my head again, gripping both sides of the console out of force of habit more than anything else.

"Hold off on the artillery until we give a go-ahead. The enemy is using some kind of energy deflection system. We put a good dent in it, but I don't think a strike from your end will do us any good until we take it entirely offline. We're trying to avoid damage to the facility as well. We're hoping to have our own weapons back before your planes arrive. If we time it right, we can push the enemy away from the facility, alpha-strike with your first air wave, our own weapons, and your artillery support. If not, your planes can perform targeted strikes and knock out the shield to clear a path for artillery."

There was only a brief pause before Brendt's voice came back over the line. I could hear him grinding his beak in that way Gryphons sometimes did when thinking hard about something.

"Acknowledged. Keep close contact Hutch. We'll have this cleaned up in time for dinner."

I sure hoped he was right. A silent nod and smile from Skye did help to bolster the feeling that we might all scrape by with our skins intact one more time. Just maybe.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Kephic

I had heard much about the 'sonic rainboom.' Fyrenn refused to use the name, he preferred the Human scientific term; A Thaumatically charged supersonic shockwave.

Regardless of nomenclature preference, I knew it was a rare, but not entirely unheard of feat. Pegasi could fly at supersonic speeds for the most part, in Equestria if not on Earth, but their magic reduced the shockwaves and accompanying sounds significantly.

A 'sonic rainboom' was a phenomenon that only occurred under unusually intense acceleration, when a flyer hit the equivalent of what the Humans called 'Hypersonic' for a very brief moment, or 'Brushing the Mach Five Threshold briefly' as my brother liked to say.

From my place atop a small boutique's rooftop eaves, I watched as Stanley Carradan became a record-holding Mach Five streak of color, sound, and speed.

In decelerated time, it was easy for me to watch every last tiny detail of the moment as it played out, from the initial formation of the shockwave that drew my attention, to the pinwheel of pink and teal that radiated out in a magical shockwave from the point at which he'd just managed to hit the coveted threshold.

Forks of magical lighting, white hot and blistering in intensity, raced over his wings as magic flowed through them. I understood almost immediately the logical consequences of Stan's presence both above, descending at just over six thousand kph, and below, smiling in the formation of Day Guards, albeit from behind a white coat and blue mane instead.

I raised my thunderblade, and acquired a sight picture, starting my corrections early as I saw the telltale signs of movement in IJ's hooves and muzzle as well.

Carradan, the real one, blew past his doppleganger at incredible speed, streaks of lightning leaping off his wings and splitting the intruder's horn as they came within no more than a couple inches of each other. Though the worst effects of Stan's shockwave were contained to the immediate few inches around him, it was more than enough to do further damage.

The interloper's jaw was nearly ripped from its socket, and the stress began to force a demorph as I looked on. To her credit, quick and crafty as she always was, IJ knew what had happened, and she was ready as the light and shock from the rainboom passed, taking a great many windows with it, and ruffling everyone's manes, crests, and tails.

She stabbed the infiltrator so hard, I wondered if she had already done my job for me. But I could still see twitching in his eyes. That was plenty good enough reason to fire.

Correcting for the cross-breeze, gravity, bullet weight, distance, and even the infiltrator's backwards momentum was pure simplicity itself. I squeezed the trigger, perfectly satisfying in both weight and engage point, until the weapon spoke forth with a loud shockwave of its own.

The round sailed straight and true, sinking right into the brainstem of the infiltrator, before passing through the other side of the neck plating, and into the cobblestone below.

It was no RAC, but it was certainly much faster, and more damaging, than any crossbow I'd ever seen.

Another resounding report less than a quarter second later told me that either my Prince, or my brother had spotted a secondary threat. The absence of any further fire told me that the threat was likely lying in a pool of its own viscera, in spite of the rising panic in the crowd below, who had only just begun to perceive what had happened.

Indeed, a sea of colors seemed to be tidally rushing out from the square as Ponies, and a few visitors from other kinds, raced screaming away from the loud sounds, bright flashes, and distinct smell of blood, any one of which was a strong panic trigger for an untrained Equine on the best of days.

I stood and waved to IJ, who yanked her blades free, and inclined her head in reply, before rushing to Celestia's side and taking up a precautionary defensive position with the other guards.

I exchanged a relieved smile with Varan, and then Sildinar, before sweeping the square below for whatever was left of the second target.

Carradan

I could feel time goin' back to normal almost as quickly as I could feel myself losing speed. And energy. I hadn't exactly been starting from an ideal place in terms of juice, and my body was starting to let me know just how ticked it was.

As I banked back around, shedding kph faster than a drag car with the chute out, I had just enough of the time altering dope left in my system to watch my doppelganger eat a bullet from one of Fyrenn's new fancy gun-axe-swords, in Kephics claws, right before Sildinar put a similar shot into a second target tucked into the shadowed mouth of an alleyway.

As the Day Guard fell, his white fur began to melt away into dark gray chitin, and a sickly green bolt of energy that had been building on the tip of his horn fizzled and died.

I knew from a lotta experience that killing a Changeling in a single shot was tough, even when they were morphed most of the way. Either he'd been fully transformed, or those gunblades of Fyrenn's packed a hell of a mighty punch, and Sildinar was a god among mortals with his aim.

Maybe all of the above.

I tucked my wings and dove, regaining a little speed without having to put in too much energy. A last second flare brought me up just beside IJ, much to the consternation of the rest of the guards.

Judging by their shift in posture, and expressions, I was gonna get magick'd, bucked, and wing-smacked into the next century if I took one more step.

After a tense half second, Shining put out a conciliatory hoof.

"He is a friend. Regroup for an about face! We're returning to the palace!"

IJ raised an eyebrow as I fell into the formation. I might not've liked parts of it, but I'd retained a little somethin' from our brief Guard training.

As our formation of Pegasus guards began to rise around Celestia's chariot, and pivot back towards the palace, leaving the Unicorn guards behind to handle the chaos in the square, I grinned and nudged IJ.

"So. When did ya figure out it wasn't me?"

She did her best to keep a smile off her muzzle. But I could see it tugging at the edges of her lips. Humor was a good sign. IJ never did humor unless all was well, or unless death was a foregone conclusion, and things seemed to be moving much more toward the former.

"Several minutes ago, actually. His remarkable ability to keep his muzzle shut gave it away."

Ouch.

My body might've been tired, bruised, and otherwise ok.
But my spirit was bleed'n out on the ground.

With a speed that took me completely by surprise, IJ leaned over, and planted a very quick, but very passionate kiss on my muzzle.

Boy did I ever wish I had the energy to do that time-slow thing again.

Still. It did wonders for my spirit, and my exhaustion. Almost as much of a miracle as the uncommonly warm smile she gave me as she pulled away, back to her appointed position in the formation.

Right then and there, that moment made the whole ordeal, start to finish, worth it.

So worth it.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Captain Brendt found himself pacing, in spite of all efforts to the contrary. His Human and Pony subordinates all seemed to find the habit distracting, sometimes even intimidating, so he'd made a consistent effort to tone it down.

South Dakota's CIC had been extensively refit to accommodate not only new advances in technology, but the presence of multiple species in relative comfort, which certainly helped make everyone, Captain included, feel more at ease.

Being a Gryphon, Brendt still found it mildly claustrophobic, even though most of the roof and walls comprised a huge high resolution holo-dome. It just didn't feel like real sky, not the least reason being the abundance of digital markers, tracks, and indicators that peppered the image.

"Firebrand one-five, Akagi Central, clear forward on launch path six starboard. Join formation at point three. Cat-shot on your signal. Squawk two eight four six echo for joint group coordination AI. Good luck Airstream."

"Central, Fire-brand one-five - Airstream. Path six starboard, join formation at point three. Squawk two eight four six echo. Launching."

Brendt's eyes snapped reflexively to the CIC's port-side just in time to see the FB-77 hurl off the carrier's starboard-most magnetic catapult, and engage afterburners shortly thereafter. The holo-dome didn't have enough resolution for Brendt's eyes to lock onto the pilot, but he recognized the convert's voice all the same.

He made it a point to know everyone in the battle group by name, face, and callsign at the bare minimum.

As he watched the triangular colored icons representing Firebrand bomber squadron take up a wedge formation, and snap to a north-easterly heading, the green and gray Gryphon tapped the microphone control on the side of his headset.

"Strike group co-ordination AI, South Dakota actual. Report status of strike teams."

"Actual, StrikeCon AI: Fireteam leaders report ready for deployment in two minutes. Final heavy-armor loading in progress."

Brendt nodded, and gestured towards his operations officer with one claw, a young Human woman whose gaze was primarily locked to the CIC's central holotank.

"Deployment for strike teams is authorized. Launch VTOLs as soon as StrikeCon reports ready. Where are we with SatVision telemetry?"

The lieutenant commander shook her head, allowing the tiniest hint of a frown to slip onto the left side of her lips as she narrowed her eyes, and her fingers flew over her keyboard.

"Heavy signal jamming in the vicinity of the AO. SatVision and Keyholes have nothing on LIDAR or X-Band. Shipboard SPY-Five also reports no-lock. SatVision nineteen will have optical tracking in four seconds."

The captain's gaze moved to one of the upright display screens as the orbital telemetry link blinked into existence.

In spite of himself, Brendt whistled through clenched beak.

"That is one very big ugly frakker. TAO, Actual, priority one. Prepare for railgun heavy assault operations. Standby for command-level authentication to strike inland target with heavy bombardment profiles. Double the previous VLS cruise missile allotment and place equivalent tonnage follow-on packages into your reload pool. Hold for target profile and telemetry from Shenzhou Ops."

Fyrenn

"We'll have air support in ten minutes. If you can get them out of our systems before then, we can punch a hole for 'em in that thing's defenses, and then all that's left is cleanup."

I nodded, and exchanged a brief glance with Neyla as she likewise processed Skye's words.

She left it to me to respond. I tapped the communications control on my helmet, and pivoted into a ready position beside the hatchway doors.

"If you don't hear from us in five, then don't wait. Activate scuttle procedure and abandon ship. Let air support find its own way in."

There was a long pause before her response came back. I could almost envision the expression on her muzzle. Probably equal parts worry, sad acceptance, and determination.

"Expecting to hear from you in less than five."

I shot Neyla another glance across the hatchway. From the tilt of her ears, the tension behind her eyes, and the way she held off a slight downward turn at the corners of her beak, I could tell she was running through the same mental scenarios, and reaching the same conclusions.

If we didn't succeed in extricating our enemies from the reactor room, then our chances of going down with the ship were high. Scuttle procedure involved the use of carefully placed demolition charges to annihilate the ship, the reactor, and all warheads aboard, without touching off any secondary antimatter explosions.

Not the worst way to die.

Not exactly the best way to end a day either.

I sized up the door between us. The main entrance to the Antimatter Core chamber. Half a foot thick, fifteen feet wide, and ten feet tall, it was designed to allow passage of some very heavy equipment.

It was also sealed tight as a drum.

I reached over my left wing, and tried the seal on the emergency access port. The metal plate popped away with a slight hiss, followed by a clank as it dropped against the bulkhead on its lower hinges.

Doors on the Shenzhou were designed to Navy standards, and then some. Doors would fail-closed incase of decompression or power loss. None of the 'shooting a panel makes the door do something random' crap from every science fiction holovid I'd ever seen.

Every single set of hatches had a manual mechanical override control that didn't need power to function, and could be activated with appropriate access codes, even when the central computer was locked out or taken offline.

I knew it, and Neyla knew it. So we both knew there was no chance Astris didn't also know it.

We would be expected.

Neyla knew that too, judging by her expression, which had hardened into the battle-ready hawk-like almost-sneer I had come to expect from her. The stuff of nightmares for any but her closest allies. And then sometimes even for some of us nonetheless.

Glancing at the access panel once to memorize the layout, I shifted my gaze to the center of the hatch, and began to work the override toggles by feel and memory. They were large rubberized switches that made a satisfying tactile 'CLICK' as they shifted between numbered positions, unlocking the door mechanically rather than electronically. There were fifteen, allowing for a fairly extensive set of possible permutations.

As I set my left claw on the last switch, I tightened up on the grip of my carbine with my right, and locked eyes with Neyla for the briefest of moments.

We were ready.

With a click, followed by a much louder metallic sound, and the hiss of a broken seal, the hatchway unlocked, and began to retract to a partially open state.

I pivoted around the frame in perfect synchronization with Neyla, acquired my first target as I moved my left claw back to the carbine, and fired.

"Sir? We just pulled this image off SatVision nineteen."

General Norris straightened the hem of her shirt reflexively as she stood, and leaned over the lieutenant's shoulder to see his DaTab.

The quiet beeps, clicks, and chirps of the new Global Military Command Center's alert operations were broken by an announcement over comm-loop one even as the images on the portable display registered.

"GMCC, AWAC niner six. South Dakota just switched from tactical to assault railgun profiles. JRSF centcom logged flag-level authentication for an inland heavy bombardment order."

Norris gestured to the DaTab, and pierced the lieutenant with her gaze. The steel in her eyes left no room for interpretation, nor backpedalling.

"This is high-confidence? What does analytics say?"

The lieutenant nodded, and suppressed a nervous sigh as he responded.

"AI and visual analytics techs confirm. Confidence is high. Whatever it is, it is mobile, flighted, not of Human design, and using directed energy weapons *and* defenses both. GlobeInt's working group thinks its a scenario X-five. Their AI concurs."

Norris moved her gaze outwards to sweep the GMCC's central operations room as she listened to the report. Six rows of semi-circular consoles, equipped with physical buttons, touch screens, and holo projectors radiated out and down from her primary command dais at the rear of the room.

On the opposite wall a five story holo-screen displayed multiple maps, helmet cams, schematics, and telemetry readouts from all over the globe.

Though still relatively new, the center was already functioning at peak efficiency. The lack of Equestrians had a great deal to do with it in Norris' view. No retraining, no interspecies relations concerns. Just the most experienced veterans of Humanity's air and land forces. She felt that even without her years of HLF experience, her feelings wouldn't have changed very much.

Nor would the Council's. At least half the review board for her appointment had known exactly who she was, or were more than half-sure. Even if the rest had known, most would probably have turned a blind eye. They needed her experience, plain and simple. And her determination.

The General fixed her eyes finally on her own administrative console, and nodded once sharply as she spoke, confirming the telemetry she needed once more for surety.

"Lieutenant, get on a secure line to the GSC-plus-nine and update them as I issue orders. Call Council security and order them to move to Night-Watch CoG plan three, just to be safe."

Though the man's face blanched, to his credit he didn't show his fear in any other conscious, or unconscious way, snapping off a salute and turning quickly on one heel.

Norris tapped her headset controls, switching to comm-loop one and opening the microphone. She swept the room again with her gaze as she delivered her orders.

"GMCC top-levels, break, break. This is Central. Standby for priority one orders."

The general paused, confirming that the loop was clear, before reaching into her right sleeve, and removing a small authentication index chip from its rubberized wrist-strap.

"AfCom Ops; Which DSOB is closest to kill-box Two Kilo?"

Norris locked eyes with the man as he looked over his shoulder from his own station, and spoke into his headset.

"DSOB Two six 'Hatchet' sir."

With a curt nod, Norris inserted the authorization index into a specially made slot on her panel, pinching the biometric access pad of the small gray rod with a thumb and forefinger to let it sample her DNA.

As she began entering her ID and authentication codes on a physical alphanumeric panel, the defense condition two alarm sounded throughout the room, and the facility's central AI spoke.

"Defense Condition One. All personnel; Defense Condition One. Permissive Action Link is open and awaiting input."

Norris toggled her mic on again with her free hand as she finished entering her personal authenticator sequence.

"Strike Ops, I am declaring scenario X-five. Advanced extraterrestrial threat has breached global defenses."

The General pulled open a small drawer as it automatically unlatched at the behest of her access codes, and pulled out the first in a line of red plastic cards encased in clear polycarbonate cases.

Snapping the case open, Norris memorized the contents swiftly as she continued to speak.

"This is a nuclear mission order. Repeat, this is a nuclear mission order. Contact Deep-Stand-off Bomber wing twenty six 'Hatchet.' Order then to deploy to launch point at Echo two sierra eight five to strike priority target in Two Kilo with warhead package three. Standby for additional telemetry optical targeting package directly from GMCC. Collateral damage is understood and authorized under X-scenario protocols."

Norris looked up to take in the mixture of horrified, frightened, and resolved expressions as she relayed the final half of the order.

"Under the single-point-command emergency rule, I give the order to strike, with high confidence from GlobeInt AI for concurrence. Day-word: Faraday. Action-word: Beliskner. Nuclear Strike Authorization follows. Two. Echo. Echo. Mike. Niner. Seven. Golf. Sierra. Seven."

Chapter 14

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Skye

"Whoa whoa whoa... Where the buck did you come from?!"

I couldn't help myself, and I'd murmured my shock and frustration aloud before I realized it. Before anyone on the bridge could ask why, I decided to just blurt it out before I was completely sure. It seemed like the sort of thing Hutch might understand better than me anyways.

Science jargon I could do all day, every day. Military jargon I was learning, but still sometimes fuzzy on.

"Hutch, there's a lot of scary stuff going back and forth across my SatVision link. EarthGov Airforce stuff, not JRSF. Last time I saw 'PAL' in a flash message, the HLF tried to drop a world-ender on Vancouver. Tell me this isn't that."

Looking up from my console, I could see Hutch's face as it did that thing Humans do when they're surprised by something that also really upsets them. That thing where it scrunches into something halfway between a grimace, a glare, and an 'oh BUCK' face.

"Shit."

Human military officers really seemed to like that one when things were headed the wrong direction. Short, cornice, sharp. My stomach dropped as he worked his console, and kept the rest of us on the bridge up to date with his discoveries.

"Someone at GMCC noticed the PER's terrifying UFO out there, and declared it an X-scenario. They issued a Nuclear strike order. Bastards!"

Oh boy. That one seemed to be reserved for really objectionable people, doing really objectionable things. As a connoisseur of the physics and history of two worlds, I knew exactly what the word 'Nuclear' meant in that context, and I knew that Hutch's descriptor for whoever was contemplating 'Nuking' us was accurate.

They'd kill everyone in the facility. Probably everyone on the Shenzhou. Definitely cripple the Genesis project irreparably.

Maybe 'shit' was about the right fit for our situation too, come to think of it. Or perhaps 'deep shit.'

Hutch turned to face me, and the level of concern in the wrinkles around his eyes scared me. I knew he didn't scare easily. His tone wasn't any more comforting than his expression.

"Poke me a hole through to GMCC. I need to talk to someone in the command chain. If they fire nukes at us, even tactical warheads, they will wipe this facility, and us, off the face of the Earth. The end of Genesis, at the very least. Might just touch off whatever bomb our friends are trying to wire together in Main Engineering to top it all off at worst. Arnshekh is gonna kill me..."

My hooves and horn both started to move at that adrenaline soaked speed where even the best typists sometimes get a little ahead of themselves. Luckily I was the best of the best. We Unicorns have always had a bit of an advantage when it comes to typing tasks, because we can use both hooves, and force projections from our horns, when a system has affordances for hoof-typing.

Like having three hands, one of which didn't have any limb-related physical limitations. The horn more than made up for the lack of fingers.

I stopped clocking my personal WPM when I hit four hundred average. I think the bragging was putting people off.

It didn't take long to open a new encrypted tunnel through the AfCom relay, and bounce it from there directly to GMCC through their high priority trunkline. I didn't have the time to compromise their systems and force them to pick up, so I did the next best thing. I spoofed the transmission header to make it look like one of their own radar planes was calling with an urgent message.

I gestured with a hoof to Hutch.

"You're on. Though they won't be too happy to hear you aren't 'AWAC three seven.' "

Hutch's eyes narrowed in a way that made me want, very badly, to be present for the inevitable flank thrashing he was going to give the person on the other end in person. If we survived. His voice didn't leave a lot of room for interruption, or interpretation. That seemed to be a skill all flag officers had nailed down, each in their own personal way.

"GMCC, this is JRSF hotel echo seven four five eight. Cease all combat operations in my mission zone immediately. Rescind your nuclear order and pull back."

Silence hung on the bridge long enough that most of us started to wonder if the channel had been cut already. I exchanged a nervous look with the Unicorn manning tactical, and the Gryphon on helm, the only other members of our skeleton crew, before a voice finally came back over the speakers.

"Negative JRSF four five eight. The Global Security Council has granted post-issuance certification to this order. Evacuate anyone you can, and brace for shock and flare on site."

I watched Hutch's face carefully. Humans were like open books most of the time to Equestrians, of any species. They did almost all their emoting on very specific parts of their faces, and they were not nearly as good at controlling them as they thought they were.

Not that I thought Hutch was trying. He looked like someone had cast his whole head in granite. That special kind of angry that goes way past red-faced shouting, and into quiet, calm words that put ice in your bones.

"GMCC Central, JRSF four five eight. If you do not cancel your fire order, and withdraw your bombers from their launch point, I will strike your planes with over-the-horizon railgun fire. Acknowledge."

Every eye on the bridge went to the General's face. Even the Gryphon on helm seemed like she knew the exact implications of what Hutch had said. Her expression had more horror than I was used to seeing on their beaks, and she wasn't trying to mask it. I think she must've been a convert. It explained several of her Human-carryover physical mannerisms.

Officially sanctioned military ships firing on officially sanctioned military planes.

If we lived to talk about it, we were all gonna be on the news the same way Fyrenn had been. And then some. If we weren't already eyeball deep in a civil war by then.

After another long pause, the response came back again. Just about as chilling as Hutch's own words.

"Launch commenced twenty seconds ago. Stand down and seek on-site shelter. Aggressive actions will be met with retaliatory force in-kind."

Hutch made a backwards revolving gesture with one hand, two fingers extended. I'd spent enough time around JRSF jarheads to know that it meant 'open the other commline without closing this one.' The one that went directly to Brendt on the South Dakota.

GMCC may not have known Hutch wasn't 'frakkin around.' But I sure knew it, and they were sure about to 'find out.'

I did what he asked with the tap of two touchscreen icons, and then nodded. His transmission did nothing to help the knot in my stomach. Nothing at all. I did my best to put a brave neutral expression to my muzzle. I'd been in worse. Objectively speaking. Just not by much.

"South Dakota, this is Huchinson. We have enemy aircraft in our AO, and inbound nuclear ordinance. Divert interceptor from the forward fighter wing to shoot down warheads. Lock your main railgun battery on the DSOB wing at Echo two sierra eight five. Fire when ready."

I sighed, and massaged the bridge of my muzzle with one hoof. I figured the situation was worth a Human invective. Science says it helps with stress relief.

"Shit."

It did help. But not much.

Brendt's eyes narrowed, and his ears flattened to hug the top of his skull as the General's words came across the CIC's speakers.

To the Humans in the space, only two seconds passed. To Brendt, and any Gryphons or Pegasi following his same approximate train of thought, the moment took considerably longer.

He mulled over the ramifications. The emotional impacts. The political blowback. The risks. It didn't take long to reach the only moral conclusion. It took much longer to mentally prepare for the consequences.

Brendt reasoned that almost any cost was worth it to save the Genesist facility. It represented something too valuable to let die. Even if the cost was a great many present, and future lives. Many of whom would be soldiers who had fought side by side with the JRSF for years.

For the Captain, the moment passed just in time for him to take in the stricken expression of his CIC crew. He nodded once sharply, and did his best to inject a firm note into his voice, allowing it to resonate as loudly as his beak and syrinx could project.

"Menace one-five, Actual. Peel off and destroy missiles at your ten o'clock high. StrikeCon AI, disable IFF interlocks and fire safeties. I authenticate, JRSF Gamma whiskey two six zulu nine seven."

A harsh tri-tone from the central holotank told Brendt that all of the myriad subroutines intended to prevent JRSF weapons from firing on JRSF, or EarthGov targets, had been suspended.

He nodded towards his tactical actions officer, locking eyes with him to ensure the order sank in.

"TAO, Actual. Kill track EarthGov Echo two sierra eight five with main guns."

The Unicorn nodded slowly, blinking somberly but otherwise maintaining a firm expression as he parroted the order, both for confirmation, and to cement it with his subordinates manning the actual fire control consoles.

"Kill track EarthGov Echo two sierra eight five, with main guns."

Fyrenn

The Shenzhou's Matter/Antimatter Reactor Core room was nothing like you'd expect if you had never been on a Navy ship, and had only grown up on a diet of Sci-Fi vids and novels. Set designers and novelists like big cavernous spaces that have short length, but enormous vertical drops and few to no railings. Good for dramatic tension, and awe inspiring mise en scène.

An absolute trash fire if you want to lay things out logically. 'Things' that are very complex and dangerous, and need to be worked on and maintained under combat conditions.

I'd been in the Core chamber before, I knew the layout of the room by heart. Not-Astris was standing inside the antimatter bottle access closet. The access hatch was closed, and bolted, but the dividing wall was mostly made up of thick transparisteel reinforced with the telltale subtle hexagon pattern of an energy diffusion matrix.

We'd needed the M/AM-R to run the armor and particle weapons. So we'd fueled it accordingly. Full flight charge. Two hundred and fifty kilograms of 'don't frakking touch that' in the extreme.

The antimatter storage bottle glowed with a frighteningly sharp bright bluish white light as the titanic magnetic and thaumatic forces inside kept the fuel suspended away from all matter in a hard vacuum. Beside it, a much smaller five kilogram container protruded from the top of the partially disassembled HASP as Not-Astris worked to circumvent carefully designed safety mechanisms on both devices.

He only needed to remove some of the Thaumatic safeguards on the fuel bottle, but the torpedo he needed to detonate outright. Disabling the magnetic containment would be easy, but the fail-safe would push the antimatter out of our plane of existence instantly if that happened. So that much more complex task, thanks be to God, had to be accomplished first. I had no idea how close or far the Wisp was to that objective.

I hated close quarters combat indoors. Somehow the idea of that much antimatter occupying the same structure, in the hooves of a Wisp, just made it that much worse.

The thought stuck in a tiny free part of my brain as I power-slid under my opponent's striking scorpion tail, an assist from my armor's impulse quads sending up sparks as the plates on my wings cut millimeter grooves into the deck.

Clear of my enemy for an ever-so-brief moment, I got another good look at the state of things in the main Core compartment. At the far end was the reaction chamber that I'd previously brushed my claws against. Its tiny size relative to the power inside still baffled the part of my brain that was used to the gigantic fusion Tokamaks of Navy ships.

The actual chamber itself, with its tiny thaumatically charged filaments was tucked away behind a seven foot thick transparisteel blast shield, with five diffraction layers sandwiched inside to keep the light of the reaction from obliterating the eyes of anyone working in the room, and plenty of radiation resistant layers to boot, all topped with energy diffusion matrices on both sides.

Precisely none of which would matter if the antimatter itself escaped. Most of the defensive properties were about containing the normal operating conditions of the core, or the spillover of an accidental coolant loop leakage.

A single catwalk no more than a hind-leg's length above the room's true floor ran from the entry doors down to the reaction chamber, splitting into a cross at the center, to access the matter and antimatter storage closets on port and starboard sides.

Beneath and beside the catwalk ran a series of well organized wire bundles, pipes, and tubes that carried electrical power, coolant, matter, and antimatter. Snaking out to a variety of different entry and exit points in the floors and walls, they all joined and terminated just beneath the reaction chamber.

Consoles lined the sides of the catwalk railings, and illumination panels were set into the ceiling. Bright, clean, simple, uncluttered, and extremely well labeled, with nowhere dangerous to fall or trip during combat.

Exactly what you wanted in an engine room, though the term was a bit of a misnomer, since the Shenzhou had three engine rooms, two for the impulse drives, one for the warp field generator, and the reactor itself was not an engine, but rather the main power source feeding the titanic machines in those three other rooms.

Aside from Not-Astris, working methodically on the HASP, and the antimatter bottle with the lurid red glow of his horn, the Core compartment held three other Wisps, and three Trolls.

Against just two Gryphons, bad odds. Against two Gryphons, with no space to fly, very very bad odds. I was personally surprised to still be alive after the fifteenth second of combat.

I'd never really enjoyed CQC or hand-to-hand as a Marine, though Lord knows I'd trained for it like my life depended on it. Which it frequently did. Not for the first time I said a silent prayer of thanks that much of those years of abuse and training translated into useful, and unpredictable talent at claw-to-claw combat as a Gryphon.

In a tight space durability and strength gain outsized influence. Speed and agility don't matter any less than they do in any other situation, but they don't gain anything in fair trade for the additional advantages afforded to a stronger enemy. And options are more limited for everyone involved.

Wisps had the gut twisting advantage of being as fast as a Gryphon, if not faster, much as it pained me to admit it to myself, on top of being much more durable by certain measures. The crystalline black exosuits they were plated in was making killing them just that much more difficult besides.

My best advantages were better eyes, better armor, and better weapons. And that ability to improvise and adapt that everyone kept telling me was so special. I was slowly starting to believe them.

I'd always been small, wiry, and fast, even as a Human. My basic instructors always assigned the beefiest candidates to practice the holds and chokes. I was the class favorite for demonstrating how to get out of them, and everyone in the higher weight classes had hated me for it. Being double jointed had its advantages. Doubly so when you needed to avoid the hazing after showing up the most 'built' of the upperclassmen.

Gryphon agility was better than being double jointed, and even plated up in the Genesist armor, I still felt far more flexible than I did as a Human wearing a light Marine combat harness. All the protection of a mech suit, with all the agility of a souvenir T-shirt, at least relative to anything Earthgov or the JRSF fielded in that weight class.

Improvise. Adapt. Use your strengths, but not the way your enemy expects.

Pressing one wing against the deck, I half vaulted, half rolled into an upright bipedal position, doing a one-eighty in the process, and firing the suit's thrusters again to reverse my direction. Hard.

The small present I had left on the barrel of the Wisp's underside trilled obediently as its timer ran out, and detonated. A concussion grenade, normally very effective at pulping the insides of an armored target at point-blank range, wasn't going to do anything lethal to the Wisp inside the armor, given that they had no organs to speak of. Just ancient bones inhabited and held together by the evil magic of their very existence.

But it did give my enemy a strong push that threw it backwards at a pretty good rate. Combined with the acceleration from my suit thrusters, the risky use of explosive force inside a room full of antimatter put my sword all the way through the Wisp's spinal armor, sinking deep into its vertebrae.

I knew the specs of the grenade, and of the tubes running below the catwalk at my paws. The risk was low enough. And the reward certainly was worth it.

My primary strategy in close combat had always been to improvise; Find the environmental advantages you can, that your enemy won't expect, so you can get out of close quarters as quickly as possible, and then deploy overwhelming force into the vacated space.

A twist tie up the left sleeve will work as a shim to get you out of simple ratcheting handcuffs. A stolen playing card up the other sleeve will get you your first kill if you use it quickly enough, and it has the right rigidity.

That gets you a K-Bar from the kid you just left to bleed out on the floor, never knowing how he justified his turn against his government, who he left behind, or why he was so especially brutal when he tried to beat your mission orders out of you, cracking ribs in the process.

That K-Bar turns into three more silent kills from behind, slipping across your enemies' throats with no more resistance than a steak knife at the dinner table.

One of them has a grenade. A fragmentation grenade to be exact.

And that little bundle of joy will excuse you very quickly from any further close combat, because shrapnel is a swift, disinterested, efficient, and very persuasive force. Triply so inside the confines of a small room, like the thrown together command center of a terrorist cell operating out of the control deck of a disused container ship.

And that's how Earthgov special forces training taught me what I needed to know to start from nothing but four cracked ribs, a bruised lung, a twist tie, and a six of diamonds, and end with bagging a dozen kills without firing a single shot from a projectile weapon.

After I'd copied all their storage media, and taken DNA samples from the dead, I used three more scavenged frags; Sank the whole ship for good measure, and swam to the extraction point, cracked ribs and all.

You don't need much if you know how and where to use it; Good rules for cooking, and for explosives both.

And very relevant to the moment, I reflected, as I eyed what not-Astris was doing to the HASP behind the thick sheet of transparisteel separating the main antimatter bottle closet from the rest of the core chamber.

I twisted my sword aggressively, separating the Wisp's vertebrae and causing some to spill out from the rift the sword had put in its armor. Rather than wasting time trying to slot the disjointed bones back through the small opening, the Wisp abandoned its platform, shrieking eerily as it passed out of the skull inside the helmet, and darted away towards the compartment roof, vanishing through one of the illumibars.

It reminded me of the horrified screams the moment before that grenade had gone off in that control room.

My reputation after that mission had opened a lot of career doors. And closed a lot of interpersonal ones. Not a lot of Human soldiers, even hardened ones, can stomach the degree of cold calculating 'fuck you' required to kill someone by slitting their throat with a playing card, paired with the frightening degree of efficiency and adaptability to even have the idea in the first place.

And the ones who did were almost always too withdrawn to seek eachother out.

Gryphons were different. Though killing wasn't any easier or harder at the philosophical level, it was far easier at the root primal level, and coping with it emotionally was far simpler, if what you'd done was done in good faith.

Once coping got easier, being close to your comrades got easier. Having friends and family got easier.

Friends and family were the best way not just to keep life worth living, but to stay alive in the clutch. I pushed off from the deck and rolled, tucking my limbs in, and buying myself a moment to tap my comm control as fire from the Trolls' particle spikes pinwheeled past me.

"SKYE! He's almost done down here! Can they spare you? We need you!"

"Hatchet, this is Citadel, with a Red-dash-Alpha message in two parts. Break. Break."

The pilot came bolt upright in his seat, nearly smashing his helmet against the cockpit's upper control panel. The forward cockpit of an Airforce B-X9 Bomber was not spacious. Neither was the remainder of the cabin. Two bunks, a tiny galley, a claustrophobic toilet/shower enclosure, and an even more crammed server rack access closet were the entirety of the livable space.

Most of the gigantic aircraft was given over to enormous fuel cells, to maximize its weeks of continuous aloft time. Everything else was either an engine, a weapon hardpoint, an ECM suite, or a communications antenna.

An atonal sharp AI voice issued forth from the cockpit speakers, and from the pilot and copilot's headsets. The latter practically bounded up the accessway to the cockpit, sliding smoothly into place beside her superior and beginning to belt down her five point harness with practiced alacrity.

"Message reads: Romeo. Niner. Oscar. Seven. Six. Alpha. Blue. Four. Four. Strike. Authentication reads: Two. Echo. Echo. Mike. Niner. Seven. Golf. Sierra. Seven. Acknowledge."

The pilot scribbled furiously on the dry-erase surface of his DaTab, then reached for the acrylic encapsulated plastic card on his neck lanyard. Pilot and co-pilot broke their cards open virtually simultaneously swiftly comparing the alphanumeric strings to the message contents.

The pilot finished, and spoke first.

"I have a valid message. Valid confirmation code."

The copilot nodded as she began to secure her helmet, including shock and flare visor, and oxygen mask. Her voice returned through the Pilot's headset accompanied by the telltale squelch in quality that always went with hardline communications paired with algorithms designed to maximize clarity of voice in a high noise environment.

"I agree."

The pilot depressed the 'talk' button on his control stick without taking hold of the control surface in full. The nav AI flew the plane, and its nearly identical drone cohorts ninety nine percent of the time.

"GMCC StrikeOps, Hatchet; Order acknowledged."

As soon as the channel was closed, he began tapping his way through a checklist on his DaTab, speaking the steps aloud.

"Computer has copied the message, and received the target package. Insert firing index keys and provide biometric authentication."

As the co-pilot spoke, both officers pulled small gray cylinders from their front right jumpsuit pockets, and inserted them into panels at opposite sides of the cockpit.

"I agree sir, inserting key and providing authentication."

With a nod, the pilot pinched his thumb and forefinger around the index's biometric readers.

"Rotate firing index to 'set.' Three. Two. One. Set."

Simultaneous clicks were immediately followed by a loud klaxon. The cockpit lighting dimmed to a dull red combat alert state. Telemetry began to flash across the central console display.

The co-pilot read the information aloud, as-per procedure, her voice accompanied by the changing whine of the jet's engines as the nav AI automatically aligned the aircraft to a good launch vector.

"Indexes set. Warhead Control AI has received final warhead configuration options and targeting data from SatVision, and has programmed onboard warhead AIs. Target selection complete. Time on target sequence complete. Yield and configuration selection complete. Missiles one and two on Hatchet one, Hatchet two, and Hatchet three ready for launch sequence. Missile launch covers retracted and safed."

The pilot nodded and placed one hand back on his firing index as he spoke.

"I concur. Computer, begin launch sequence. Prepare to turn indexes to 'Fire' position."

"Begin Countdown. T-Minus ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Turn Indexes."

At the AI's insistence, both officers turned their keys.

A low rumble issued forth from the hardpoints on the jet's wings, and the forward canopy was briefly illuminated by the flare of rocket motors as six nuclear tipped missiles accelerated forward towards the horizon.

Silence fell for several seconds, before the pilot allowed himself a deep inhalation, and began to issue follow-up orders in his customary professional tone.

"One thru six away, good shoot. Rotate firing indexes to 'reset' and standby to relay confirmation to---"

The words became his last in a hail of superheated tungsten and steel. From out of the gray dawn sky nine heavy bombardment railgun rounds streaked to target, three per aircraft.

Moving at hypersonic speeds, with no discernable LADAR signature, the rounds did precisely what they were designed to do, arriving so quickly and forcefully as to make evasion, and point defense, impossible.

Striking with such fury as to make a second salvo unnecessary.

Hatchet three's nav AI had plenty of time, in relative terms, to watch and evaluate.
A full thirtieth of a second analysis was recorded as the rounds tore through the bombers' relatively thin exterior armor, imparting so much kinetic force that the vehicles' skins rippled and tore away before the secondary kinetic forces, and fuel tank detonations, atomized everything to chunks no bigger than a Human fist.

As its own aircraft was reduced to cinders, the AI dutifully transmitted a distress call, and gun-camera images back to the nearest AWAC, and SatVision, caring nothing for the two dead officers, nor the billions in lost hardware, including all the crafts' remaining nuclear warheads.

In the skies over the Mediterranean, silence fell with the last of the debris, and the remainder of the railgun slugs.

"South Dakota, Menace-one-five, approaching warheads. Beginning interception operations."

Colonel Thomas West was an oddity in the JRSF. With two tours as Yorktown CAG before becoming South Dakota's wing commander post-Conversion, most would have seen his officially lateral career move as an unofficial demotion.

He saw it more as a personal challenge.

There were fewer Diamond Dog Lupines in the service than there were any other official JRSF signatory species. There was plenty of prejudice to go around, from Humans still simmering internally at the horrors of the botched Diamond Dog Conversion program, and from Equines fearful of his predatory nature; Even less familiar to them than a Gryphon's and no less intimidating.

And, of course, there was the general prejudice at the idea that a non-flighted creature could keep up with undisputed winged masters of the sky from inside the cockpit.

West took the idea personally, similarly to the way he took it personally that so many of his still-Human comrades in arms whispered frequently behind his back, wondering why a Human fighter jock would ever choose a Lupine over a Pegasus or a Gryphon for their own future.

Whenever possible, West disasbused his subordinates of the dated, prejudicial notions. Occasionally with a little physical roughness, but never more than absolutely necessary with the worst offenders.

The way some Humans idolized the Avian form, or the Equine, West had always loved the Canine. Becoming a Lupine had been not so much a question for him, as an internal mandate.

While a Lupine didn't have the same instincts as a Gryphon or Pegasus for flight, their bodies had ninety percent of the needed tolerances to withstand equivalent maneuvers in a fighter jet.

And their general speed of thought, and above average ocular nerves did exactly what all Equestrian brains and eyes did to pilot's skills and instincts, as compared to Human organs.

West yanked the stick back, and pulled the throttle into the zero-thrust deadzone, tapping specially designed flap control keys on the throttle with two claws. The FA-31 bucked into a belly-out braking maneuver, trading near-supersonic speeds for near-stall speeds at a shocking rate without so much as a creak in protest from the airframe.

As the nuclear warheads entered extreme missile lock range on West's HUD, triggering a staccato alert sound unique to radiological detections, he flicked the master-arm switch to the ready position, and waited for the fire control AI to establish tone and lock on as many of the objects as it could.

When the missiles blew through the extreme targeting range into the mid range in a matter of seconds, West squeezed the trigger, and pressed the stick inwards, simultaneously slamming on the right rudder pedal with one paw, and kicking the throttle up to its maximum setting before afterburners.

The Falx ejected four lightweight medium range missiles, two per side, from its high speed low observable launch bays as it dipped and wheeled into an accelerating downward right bank turn.

West watched on his HUD as two of the four interceptors slammed spot-on nose-cone-first into their assigned targets, safely immolating the nuclear warheads in intense conventional explosive fireballs that were large enough to reflect off the Falx's canopy, even at-range.

The Colonel's immediate concern, and ice blue eyes, shifted to the remaining four warheads. Their evasion and flight AI had outdone his interceptors' in the half-second joust of control fin micro adjustments, feints, and counter-feints.

With a low growl, as the hackles on his neck rose reflexively, West pressed his throttle claw all the way forward, triggering the Falx's afterburners at maximum intensity. Mach one, and then two, came and went at a rate of acceleration that would have put any Human pilot into an intensive care ward.

West's broad black-furred shoulders and back absorbed the G-forces as though they were no more than a stiff breeze. Though Gryphons could do it the best, and were most known for it, Lupines could also bend their perceptions of time in combat to a similar degree, if not quite as extreme. They alone among Diamond Dogs possessed the unique gift to such a top-tier extent. Most other canids struggled to match them even two-thirds of the way.

With a flick to the control column, the Colonel brought the nose of the jet to a midway point between the missiles, and picked a target. The warheads sensed his approach and began trading time-to-target for evasive actions, pinwheeling out into spiraling maneuvers designed to make it hard to track all four at once.

West had been ready, cueing up multiple instructions to the Falx's weapon AI with his throttle claw on the shorthand command entry keys as the jet completed its turn.

With a squeeze of the trigger, all hell broke loose. Every remaining missile in the jet's arsenal ejected from the launch ports in quick succession, streaking outwards in a display JRSF personnel affectionately referred to as 'Itano's Circus.'

At the same time, fire from the FA-31's twin forward railsaws erupted into the sky, cleaving one of the nuclear missiles into giblets almost instantaneously as it crossed the firing line in an attempt to evade one of the interceptor missiles.

Three down. Three to go.

The AI in the remaining warheads swiftly caught up to the change in tactics, and began to dump their built-in chaff ropes. Angel wing patterns of burning magnesium and metal chips blossomed from all three weapons as they pushed into ever more complex loops and turns, exploiting their massive thrust to weight ratio, and sleek profiles to the maximum degree possible.

West picked a single primary target, and began a right barrel roll to put his guns in a more advantageous position. The warhead reacted by violently braking, deploying drag fins and disabling its main engine briefly.

In defiance of any conventional logic, let alone the Human programmed subroutines of a Human-template AI, West juked the stick back violently, pulling the inverted Falx's nose towards Earth, and placing it directly on a collision course with the decelerating warhead.

AI did not panic, but when confronted with extremely sudden and violent changes to the environment, with very little lead time to cope, they were prone to simplified snap decision making. West was counting on that.

The warhead juked hard to avoid a collision, reigniting its engine rapidly to gain more control authority, and to lessen the closure rate to the nose of the Falx. In the process, it failed to take into account one of West's missiles, and the two objects met in a sudden bright orange fireball.

The Colonel had already begun an inverted climb, combined with a partial aileron roll, and heavy acceleration, placing the Falx just outside the damage sphere of the explosive collision.

Two tones and a glowing indicator on the holo-HUD spoke to the demise of missile number five. West had ordered two thirds of his remaining missiles to focus on a single warhead post-launch, ensuring that its defenses would be overwhelmed through sheer numbers.

Pushing further into the aileron roll and going nose-down, the Lupine pulled the jet back to level, and pressed the throttle to highest afterburn position once more. The last warhead, having evaded its pursuing missiles, had resumed a trajectory back towards its original target.

With a slight smirk, West pulled back on the gun trigger, and began to waggle the wings slightly, causing the slugs to disperse in unpredictable patterns downrange.

The warhead was prepared for the incoming stream of fire, but not the random nature of the spread. Two rounds caught up with it, tearing through a steering fin violently. It was enough.

West began a gentle turn outwards, before rolling and banking back inwards, flanking the crippled missile from its right side. The target profile was pitifully easy to acquire, and then to fill with enough superheated tungsten to render the nuclear warhead safely nonexistent.

Red fire reflected from the canopy, West's icy eyes, and the frightening pure white of his fangs.

"SD Control, Menace one-five; Splash six warheads. Proceeding to original objective."

Neyla

I could feel my heart stop as the Wisp's tail bit deep into Fyrenn's armor, lodging somewhere between his ribs. I prayed it wasn't embedded in something vital. It looked to me like it might have collapsed one of his lungs, but we could operate without one of those for quite some time without too significant a decrease in strength.

The pain must have been unimaginable. His wounded shriek, something he rarely did even under intense duress, spoke to that fact. The sound locked my own lungs in shards of ice that felt as if they might as well have been real, actual crystals, rather than a simple manifestation of a 'FIGHT' response, paired with a sympathetic bond resonance.

Those who truly love must share each other's hurts. Physical and emotional.

A snap decision flew from my mind to my left claw in less time than it would have taken light to travel the same distance. 'Tachyonic neurons' was Skye's term for the mechanism behind the supposed physics violation. Apparently Humans still believed nothing could conventionally travel faster than light, even though a Gryphon brain inside an MRI had beaten a fiber optic cable years previous by a factor of nine.

For all their incredible imagination, Humans certainly seemed sure of themselves when it came to physics. Too sure sometimes.

I felt the sword leave my talons as my muscles moved in considerably less physics violating timeframes, though no less astounding to most creatures, zipping along a perfect shallow arc to embed itself in the Wisp's side just as I closed the now emptied claw on the back of my enemy's throat.

The Troll was monstrous, easily one of the largest I'd ever encountered, to the point of his own detriment. He was frighteningly strong, and it would be no exaggeration to say his muscles were equivalent to medium carbon ceramic armor in their density.

But he was slow as tree sap in the dead of winter, and had no sight lines beyond his immediate forward quarter. A place no sane enemy would stand, given the size of his claws. I'd been forced to allow him to hit me glancingly once to bring him into melee range, and my right wing joint was still completely numb, even under the armor.

At least it still functioned, and there was no pain. Yet.

I'd shattered his faceplate with my pistol's butt in exchange, crumpling the expended weapon, and freeing the Troll's jaws to work as weapons on his behalf. But also making his face vulnerable.

Leaping onto his back with my new clawhold to anchor me, I caught sight of Fyrenn once again, pulling my second sword free in an arc that bisected the Wisp's tail handily, and opened the weapon's second hidden short blade at the same time. The motion left part of the bony limb still hanging out of him, even as he then plunged his own sword, held in his off-claw, down hard into the Wisp's head.

The force was enough to shatter its helmet, and knock off its lower jaw to the floor. I barely had time to watch Fyrenn begin his follow through with the back-blade of my sword, combined with the ripping and tearing motion of his own beak. I had my own kill to make.

With a twist of my claws, I buried my talons deep into his spine, piercing his thin neck armor, and the weakest sinews over the second vertebra. Leftover habits and training from my time as a Scalebuster; I knew exactly how to kill something with a mostly impenetrable hide, and a truncated range of motion as compared to mine.

The motion sent shockwaves through his nervous system, forcing his head back, and his jaws open in a yowl of pain that was far louder than Fyrenn's. Satisfaction shot through my breastbone like white-hot meade.

Yes you bastard mutt; Feel your spinal column rattle and twist. You think you're going to kill me because you're bigger, but your bulk is going to kill you in the end. And you deserve it. You raised arms against me. And the one who I'd have as my mate.

No painless end for you.

I drove my remaining sword's front-blade deep into the open maw the Troll's throaty scream had provided, intentionally angling the curve of the alloy to ensure it wouldn't kill him with a painless instantaneous slice of the brainstem, nor swiftly with a prick to the carotid. Instead the edge plunged deep into his airway, releasing a flow of capillary blood that gushed forth with nearly the same intensity as a major vessel.

With a slight push, the blade's tip mauled the valve controlling the access to the Troll's stomach, and lungs, allowing the blood I'd set loose to cascade into both like a firehose.

As he moved to close his jaws reflexively, I pulled back on the sword. His jaws snapped shut, but not around my foreleg as he had planned. I could feel my sword blade split his tongue, and savage the roof of his muzzle as I continued to pull it out, razor edges ensuring minimal friction in spite of his immense bite force, which only served to wreck his own snout irreparably.

As the weapon came free I vaulted backwards, giving him a push to the deck, and allowing the tip of the curved sword blade to split the end of his muzzle in the process. I knew those nerves were as sensitive as any part of their biology, and the pain would cause his heart to pump even faster, making the torrent of blood filling his lungs, and stomach, that much worse.

He ceased to be a threat almost instantly, gripping his throat and spluttering great torrents of his own life out of his muzzle onto the catwalk plating in a vain attempt to stem the reverse flow that was drowning him on his own fluids.

I relished the short pause the other two Trolls displayed in spite of themselves as I stepped over their commander's writhing, whining not-quite-yet corpse. They were no pushovers, and for them to show hesitation meant that I'd scared them. Not an easy feat. But one I relished.

We were down to two Wisps, not counting the thing inside Astris, and two Trolls. But I knew our odds were not much improved. We'd taken injuries, and expended weapons just reaching that point. Even if we won the claw-to-paw-to-tail fight, which was far from certain, we almost definitely would not manage to do so before Astris finished his foul work.

They would win the war, even if we won the battle.

My eyes flicked to the doorway leading to the inside of the antimatter fuel bottle closet. I had one grenade left. If I gained entry, I could use it to force an explosion early, one that would set off the fail safes that Astris still hadn't disabled, resulting in all the antimatter being blinked out of existence safely.

But I knew exactly what that maneuver would cost me. To get the door open, I'd have to take near-fatal injuries. To get the grenade past Astris' potential defensive spells, or simple impetus to throw it back, I'd have to deliver it myself, and hold it there until the end. I wasn't at all sure the Genesist armor, particularly in a weakened mid-battle state, could hold off the force of a point-blank grenade enough to protect me from fatal shrapnel injuries.

A risk that would be worth it, no matter the outcome.

I let loose with a war cry that shook the floor grating, and made to charge the access hatch. But The move turned out to be an excellent opening distraction for our backup, rather than a prelude to a sacrifice play.

"SURPRISE MOTHERBUCKERS!!!"

Radiant blue pulses zipped over my head, just clearing the space between my ears, and triggering a reflexive duck. I dug in my back paws and fired my suit's thrusters to shift my momentum away from the antimatter access door, and towards Fyrenn's opponent, who was still hanging on by a thread, locked together with him in a grim embrace.

My vision cone came around enough to see Skye, magic shield raised ahead of her, the soft blue glow of interlocking hexagonal energy parting in tiny organized holes as her spellweave automatically opened brief pinprick firing windows to accommodate the blasts from her pistol, and Aston's carbine.

Aston herself was fully armored up, and holding down the trigger on her carbine in fully automatic mode, lance after lance of particle energy peppering the two Troll's who I'd so badly frightened only moments before. Skye's more accurate shots following on to each new breach in their armor that Aston's heavier weapon created.

God above bless their perfect sense of timing, and grant them protection. Sisters of mine in spirit, and battle, if not in blood. In my ledger, that kind of rescue completely balanced out any mild resentment I felt towards Aston for her reaction to the way Fyrenn had acted to save Alyra.

"AY'YAR AD'N'HARST! GHYU BUAI'DH A T'HOI A'YAR MA F'THR'ACHEN AG'MA KOMP'AN'ACH!"

The loose Human common-tongue translation of my ear-shattering war cry would have been "Forward to Victory, my sisters and my mate!"

I knew the slip in reference to Fyrenn was coming, but did absolutely nothing to stop it thundering out. I knew Aston wouldn't understand. Skye might bother to translate it for herself later if she remembered. Fyrenn was getting better at old Gryphic, so he might catch it.

And I hoped he did.

As I cannoned talons first into his opponent he let loose a wordless battle cry of his own, digging in deep with his beak between the horrid creature's wing-roots to stop it moving out of the way. Between the tearing of his beak, and the slashing of my claws, the thing and its armor both simply collapsed into a wriggling heap of bone and crushed basalt crystal.

The wisp inside rose, as the first had, and I sent it on its way with a loud hiss. To my surprise, Skye caught on to the opportunity of the moment, and loosed some sort of spell from her horn, concurrent to a blast from her pistol.

The twin energies struck the Wisp's ethereal form at exactly the same moment. Perfect time-on-target execution as the Humans call it.

With a scream of unholy rage and pain, the combined energies began to slowly vaporize the writhing creature as it thrashed in the hold of Skye's magic, suddenly unable to move to complete its escape, panicking as the combination of the spell, and the particle energy, rent its own true self asunder in ways it had thought itself immune to.

For the first time ever in battle with them, few enough opportunities though I'd had, I saw the last armored Wisp pause, rooted in place as if what had just happened dealt it a physical shock. My own shock ran deep as I whipped my head around to see the demon in Astris had paused his work as well, stolen muzzle held agape in shock.

"OH YEAH?! How about THAT? I can KILL YOU OUTRIGHT you piss-brained little energy clouds! COME ON!!!"

Fyrenn chuckled weakly, wincing as the action exacerbated the pain in his collapsed lung. He offered me a knowing smile, then called out to Skye as he rounded on the remaining Wisp with his sword, tossing me my second blade in the same smooth pivoting motion.

"Skye? I name you an honorary Gryphon, and worthy of any legendary title we could bestow."

His next words were delivered to the Wisp as he brought his sword back to ready position in a two clawed grip.

"You heard the lady. Come and die Ssh'Le'khar."

My heart always skipped a beat, and it put fire in my wing edges when my love used Gryphic curse words correctly.

Hutch

"You go with her, the kid and I have got this!"

My own words still rang in my ears, even though Aston and Skye had booked it for the engine room more than a minute earlier. At least we were much closer than the forward torpedo room. There was a chance they'd get there in time.

Alyra paced back and forth between the bridge and the ops room slowly. I could feel her tension radiating like heat. And more than a little of my own, actually radiating as heat and sweat besides.

It brought a completely unwanted, and far too amusing question to my mind. The brain's usual weird way of trying to cope with combat stress. Did Gryphons sweat? I'd never seen sweat on them, not that I could conclusively identify as sweat anyways, usually by the time Gryphons reached a point where you'd think they might sweat, there'd be a lot of bodily fluids caked on them. Usually blood. Usually their enemies' blood.

Multiple tones and a whole mess of red text started coming out of the data link Skye had cobbled together, breaking the chain of lighter thought instantly.

I knew enough to parse most of it, but it was Brendt over the comm who solidified it all for me in one concise summary that made me wish I hadn't gotten out of bed that morning.

"Hutch. GMCC just put out a hit list of priority A-RAC and Nuclear targets. You're on it. So are we. And JRSF's New Centcom on San Cristobal. And the new Conversion Bureau Network Headquarters in San Francisco. Strategic missiles are already airborne, they're still positioning the A-RACs. But it won't be long."

God dammit.

It was finally here.

The day the Human race decided to actually properly go and fuck ourselves. Intentionally.

"Bastards. Targeting the rebuilt SF Bureau tells you all you need to know about those sick Equestrophobic fucks they have in charge over there now. What's the play for ya'll?"

I gripped the Captain's station until my knuckles turned white as Brendt's voice washed over me. Something about a crash dive for the battle group. That would definitely do it as far as saving their skins. They were a symbolic target, it didn't matter if they were actually hit now, or later.

A pickle on the back of my neck brought my eyes up. Alyra. Those twin gold orbs bored into mine with an expression I couldn't even begin to unpack completely.

I could see rage, for her former masters, unwittingly doing their dead level best to cut her life short yet again in the process of trying to kill off Humanity's best shot at survival as a species, genetically speaking.

Love, too. For her family, for her fellow beings of all stripes. For me, as part of her extended family.

Sadness. Finality. A pure and burning core of grit that promised to fight to the end.

The kid had seen so much. Been put through so much... It was not fair for her to have suffered so much at Human hands, only to die at those same hands, in the process of trying, in spite of everything to save them.

I'd seen what they'd done to her. The metal spikes laid into her spine. I'd seen the guncam recordings of what they'd done to her sister. Forced myself to watch every last second.

I'd seen what had happened to the San Fran Bureau during the 'Vancouver Incident.' Stupid name for an event that almost killed the entire population of two cities, would have stuffed the Earths climate worse than it already was, levelled a Conversion Bureau in a third city, and a military installation in a fourth, along with dozens of parallel smaller strike actions.

And I knew that the same bastards who had been party to those orders to strike were probably sitting in the new GMCC at the bottom of the Caribbean, and in a dozen other highly placed military command posts, smirking their bigoted faces off as all their deepest held wishes were coming true right in front of their eyes.

I blinked, and saw something else in Alyra's eyes. The dim reflection of a little girl melting under the assault of a trillion tiny machines that had originally been designed to save life. Newfoals, Newfledges, and other sundry civilians being dragged from the crater that had been the SF Bureau. Smoke coming off the bodies of those that had been too close to the RAC shells that had atomized the building, but still far enough away to remain in one piece, and not well sheltered enough to avoid the overpressure and thermal shock.

The pall of concrete dust falling out of the atmosphere to coat the bodies of the children from three species who hadn't made it, mercifully few though they had been.

Hell... One was too many.

Fuck that.

Not again. Not on my watch.

We were not toothless in this fight.

"JANET!"

Martins strode into the room with her usual commanding, confident gait. Nothing stopped that woman when she was angry. And I needed her to be very, very angry.

"Unlock the HASPs."

She blinked, then blinked again, processing my request. I prodded again, feeling the tingle of blood leaving my fingers as I gripped the railing even harder. My stomach lurched. How much time was left, really? How long ago had the fire commands been given?

"All the remaining enemies are in the power core. It's a low risk maneuver as far as accidentally granting them any system level control. Janet, if we don't do something? Tens of thousands of people are going to die in the next five minutes. Us included. Genesis waves two through the end, included. A hell of a lot more in the next five days. And then the rest of the goddam Human race in five months when the Gryphons find out what happened, get their armies together, and finally decide we're not worth saving because we fired NUKES at CHILDREN from HALF A DOZEN DIFFERENT SPECIES. We have to stop this war before it starts. Do those antimatter torpedoes have an atmospheric flight rating? Do they have an intercontinental range?"

I all but knew the answer. No way you could design a weapon to hit something half a solar system away, and it not have the range to hit a pin on the other side of the map.

Martins nodded slowly, and inhaled deeply, holding up a hand. The woman's patience was gonna kill me with an aneurysm before the nukes did. Didn't she know the clock was running?

"Yes, Hutch. They have the range, the equipment for atmospheric flight... And the yield to kill anything on the planet, no matter how buried, or armored. But you are asking me to fire two antimatter weapons. The first two antimatter weapons ever actually used on Earth. Against Humans. Against the Earthgov military. Who have no idea that we've built these weapons. Do you understand what the repercussions from this will be? For Genesis? For the JRSF? For the Accords?"

I rammed a fist into the console, working as hard as I could with the other hand to call up telemetry from our hardlink onto the bridge holodome.

"Do you see that Councilor? That's two dozen nuclear missiles with MIRV tips carrying six warheads each. FOUR of them are targeted to the San Francisco Conversion Bureau for CHRIST'S SAKE! Do you have any idea how many people twenty four warheads will kill, and not just in the Bureau, even if they have set those to the lowest possible yield? Half of San Francisco is about to be vaporized! The safe self-destruct can be triggered right up until the last five seconds of flight. What else does JRSF have access to that could threaten GMCC, tucked away on the bottom of the ocean? It's this, or DIE! And we, you and I, would deserve the Hell we'd shortly find ourselves in if we let those innocents go with us, without putting up a FIGHT!"

She pierced me with her eyes. Steel in the rain, backed by flashes of lightning. Then her gaze shifted to Alyra. Fire, and lightning, some kind of understanding passing between them at lightspeed.

And then, merciful Lord finally, she nodded.

"Computer. Recognize Martins, authorization Pi one one three eight. Rescind weapons lockout for torpedo munitions."

Her gaze flicked back to me, and I almost flinched. Almost. I could sense her frustration, but also her pragmatism. She knew how it was all going to unfold if we did nothing, and thankfully she was the sort who accepted facts quickly.

"It takes dual authentication to fire the weapons at a surface target. We meant them for starship defense. Not for all out planetary war. Any two recognized officers will do."

Alyra moved to stand beside the Unicorn at tactical. The poor thing skidding sideways as if hit by magnetic force. Not so much afraid of the little Gryphoness, I figured, as he was of the idea that he'd be asked to do the deed.

I wondered how much of Alyra's willingness was about sparing that Unicorn a terrible choice, and how much about defending those she loved. And how much might be about some vengeance for her sister.

All valid reasons as far as I was concerned. I knew a lot of my former colleagues had been the political, Humanist types. Probably knew how bad their logic was, and how trashed their morals were, deep down. But I'd never really accepted how far gone they were. Never admitted it to myself.

Until now.

I nodded, and began entering authorization commands into the Captain's console as Alyra did the same on the tactical station. Her Dad was canny. He'd seen to it that she carried a set of officer's tactical command codes. His trust was well placed.

I swallowed to try and get some moisture into my mouth and throat, and did my best to speak with more firmness and assurance than I actually felt.

"Acting Captain Terrance Hutchinson; Antimatter surface deployment authorized. Gray five over beta two, JRSF Echo two seven two. Strike."

A piercing alarm sounded, and the bridge alert lighting pulsed in acknowledgement. I nodded to Alyra. The kid didn't hesitate. Her voice was like iron striking on iron. Not even the tiniest hint of a quaver or hitch.

"Acting Tactical Officer Alyra of Kh'yn'eos; Antimatter surface deployment authorized. Red seven over gamma four, Genesis Gamma nine eight five one. Strike."

That ear splitting sound again, and then an acknowledgement from my panel. I tapped out a series of coordinates, then looked back at the Gryphoness. Seeing her there, backlit by the combat alert lighting, armor slightly singed, eyes on fire with a controlled, justified rage, I decided that maybe she wasn't a kid at all anymore, affection I meant by the term notwithstanding.

She was a huntress. And she was ready to make the kill.

"The targets make sense? And the warhead programming?"

She nodded in response, and made a few final adjustments on her panel, then looked back to me. The certainty in her eyes was all I needed. I nodded, inhaling slowly.

"Fire when ready."

Alyra tapped just three controls on the console, and I could feel the slight vibration beneath the deck, my head turning as if pulled by gravity to watch the two brilliant purple-blue lens flares of the weapons pull away into ballistic arcs.

"Weapons away."

I nodded, and tapped my comms panel. Time for our demands. Nothing too complicated. Just 'stop being fucking war criminals.'

I decided simultaneously that I would phrase it exactly that way, and that it would be a fair request in exchange for stopping the fifty kilograms of antimatter in each warhead from wiping the entire Earthgov military command staff off the face of the planet. Two gigatons and change a piece.

Bigger than any nuke ever. By a lot, if my math was right.

I just hoped, and prayed, that they would agree with my math.

Or we would all burn.

Together.

Chapter 15

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

The alarms hit first. A klaxon designed by a generative AI to appeal to as many of the 'PAY ATTENTION' centers of a Human brain as possible.

The sinking feeling came next, a cold realization of what the alarm meant borne of thousands of combat drills. But General Norris clamped down on that. Hard.

Data hit the main screen of the GMCC at about the same time the SatVision main controller's words hit her earpiece on the main comloop. The lights dropped to an eerie deep red, and rumbles in the ceiling above attested to the automatic deployment of blast shields, sealing of compartments, and severing of external umbilicals on the sea-floor in favor of internal systems.

"SatVision is showing two hypersonic inbound heavy strategic weapons. BMEWS confirms.Quantum threat alarms have tripped in early warning monitor stations in Africa, Iceland, and Greenland. Confidence is high, I repeat confidence is high; Two antimatter warheads coming over the horizon. Calculating impact points and warhead yield, standby."

A second insistent tritone alarm sounded, and the facility's main overseer AI trumpeted a loud warning into every commloop. Identical text warnings flashed on every station simultaneously.

"Dead Hand Activated. 30. 29. 28. 27..."

On deployment of unauthorized nuclear or antimatter weapons, or the detection of quantum waveform manipulation anywhere on Earth's surface, the protocol was absolute.

There could be no risk that a terrorist, or extraterrestrial force would cut the head from the command structure, then gut the defenseless planet after. Or burn the sky again with unchained quantum science.

Strategic Nuclear weapons were to be fired from automated silos on every continent, to strike either the aggressor, if a weapon had been fired, or the moron stupid enough to play with quantum fire if it was the case of someone toying with the same forces that had caused the Winnowing.

Norris nodded, and cycled her microphone to 'vox' on the main comm loop.

"Place strategic strike package Omega into the BattleNet. L-RACs and A-RACs to target *all* JRSF installations and assets, including all Conversion Bureaus, as well as all Barrier Retarder platforms, and Lucapa facility. Any remaining Nuclear weapons after Dead Hand round one fires to be held in reserve."

No sense making it easy for the Equestrians to retaliate. Or for the JRSF to find new conscripts after it devolved from WMDs to a shooting war on the ground.

The faster the distance to their mainland grew, the better, if war was to be the word of the day.

Likewise no sense in spending all of the Nukes at once, and no sense in leaving a way for them to make more Non-Humans easily. Not on their own terms, anyhow.

The wargame AI claimed the heavy Nukes were the only thing that would slow the Gryphons and Dragons.

Slow. Not stop.

Norris disagreed. No computer was going to tell her that a war for the specie's future was unwinnable. Not while she still drew breath.

"General, ELINT projects minimum one point five gigaton detonations. Probable projection is two point one five gigaton detonations. Warheads are moving too fast, with too much jamming for interceptors. The warheads have primary and secondary energy shielding... Flak will not be effective! Analytics AI designates these weapons... Apollyon Class. Warhead designate track Apollyon One is targeted for the Earthgov Air and Space command at Creek Mountain. Warhead designate track Apollyon Two is... Targeted for this facility... Forty seconds to impact."

The hesitation in the man's voice carried through the comm loop, as did the small choke in his throat as he used the dreaded words. Norris could see his tears all the way down in row three, glinting in the red emergency lighting.

Apollyon. A theoretical weapon of mass destruction for which there was no functional defense in any Earthgov arsenal, no matter how secret.

Not so theoretical anymore, the General reflected with an inward grunt.

Norris was well versed in the maths of armageddon. She started her morning reading the latest 'Joshua' files with every breakfast. It helped to scar over the emotional response Humans would normally have by default to the idea of watching a plurality of the population wiped out in a hypothetical all-out war.

A two gigaton detonation would have no trouble producing a shockwave that would pulverize the seafloor so far down that decayed atoms from the base's fusion reactors would be all that was measurably left. That, in spite of an ocean above them, and a quarter mile of rock between the ocean and the first of five layers of twenty meter thick alloy plates.

They'd feel the tremors in every city in the Western hemisphere.

Creek Mountain was an old Cold War installation not far from Cheyenne, and the former HLF headquarters. Their facility wouldn't even need to sustain a direct strike, they only had three hundred meters of rock, and one ten meter shield of alloy plates.

"Message coming in via JRSF Centcom deconfliction hotline. Priority One."

The General felt her own breath hitch in spite of all her years of training, of dreaming, even of hoping for the war she could allow to unfold just by holding her tongue. But Apollyon... The math just wasn't there.

Against anything else, the GMCC was an invincible redoubt. Safe from anything, even the projected abilities of the Royal Sisters themselves, within Earth's Thaumatically deprived spacetime.

Safe from all but the hand of God. Or the Devil.

Without GMCC, the Dead Hand would continue to fire on Lucapa. Round after round, mostly wasted munitions. The L-RACs and A-RACs would pulverize the Conversion Bureaus, and all the JRSF's ground facilities.

All that would be left to stop an army of enraged Gryphons, Dragons that could flatten battleships to ruin single-claw, a flood of supporting Equines with their thrice damned weather and shield magics to support, the JRSFs considerable remaining naval assets, and two very angry goddesses with built-in particle cannons, would be the reserve mags on the RACs, whatever few conventional Air Force bombers that weren't flattened by JRSF naval railguns in the next five minutes... And prayer.

Not enough. Not by any measure. No matter how highly she thought of Humanity.

Without Thor, long since expended, and without the Nukes, there was no point to fighting the war.

Malakim could not be pressed into service in any kind of workable timeframe. Not for the current crisis; Norris knew for a fact that the soonest a launch could theoretically happen was in ten hours, and that with significant failure chances. Greater than fifty percent, and it would still come too late if it came at all.

It had taken a herculean effort by a multidisciplinary task force to get ahold of EarthGov's secret store of decommissioned nuclear warheads, re-weaponize them, update them, and then fit them to modified versions of existing conventional missile hardware. It had been six months of her life after the final split with the JRSF.

Malakim would have to wait.

No path to a forced peace on Earthgov's terms, not without buying time, and saving Strategic resources.

Without GMCC or Creek Mountain, no Nukes, and no control circuits for Malakim.

Simple math. She hated it all the same.

"Put me through, and patch it to the one-commloop, receiving only, for the record."

A click, a warble, and a hiss, was followed by General Hutchinson's voice.

"Norris? I know Beemius has probably got the AI throwing up the umbrellas over there, and neither of us have a lot of time, so I'll make this simple for your ape hindbrain, so we can cut through all the HLF and Echelon Twelve bullshit you've eaten up over the years. Don't be fucking war criminals. And in exchange? I will refrain from erasing you from the surface of this God forsaken planet. You have ten seconds to decide, or the angry young Gryphoness over here, whose sister you and your paymasters killed, will send the no-revoke commit codes to our little presents, and your goose will get very, very cooked in another twenty."

Norris' stomach lurched again. She knew exactly to whom Hutchinson was referring. And she knew that even if Hutchinson was bluffing, a Gryphoness who had once been a child soldier conscript, trained from her earliest memories to kill, who had seen Earthgov murder her only family...

Very, *very* simple math.

The Gryphoness would kill anyone in her command center if she had to in order to ensure the warheads landed, nothing Norris could say or do would stop her. No room to beg, bully, threaten, or negotiate.

She grit out her response with as even a tone as she could muster.

"I agree to your terms. I'm dispatching the order now."

With a tap of her console, Norris closed the channel to Hutchinson, leaving the main loop connected to her mic on vox.

"One-MC break, break. Overseer AI; Suspend and reset the Dead Hand with a two minute off-cycle. I authenticate: Norris Epsilon two nine five."

No sense risking the failsafe shutdown of the Antimatter warheads reactivating the Dead Hand, and starting the whole standoff over again.

"Break. Break. Flight Ops; Send the failsafe codes to all in-flight warheads immediately. Break. Break. Strike Ops, withdraw all combat orders for all units globally, place all assets in Defense Condition two, maintain strike package Omega in the BattleNet. We are moving from Defcon one to Defcon two. Section supervisors, conference in ten."

As hurried orders were passed around both the main, and secondary comm loops, track indicators for the initial package of strategic missiles began to vanish from the main display. The Dead Hand indicators reset to thirty, and then vanished as well.

A tension hung in the air all the while, as the antimatter warheads closed to within enough range that the defense AI began to emit distance indicator pings. Pings which were rapidly increasing in frequency.

At last, the final Nuclear warheads vanished from the display. Norris opened her mouth to query her opponent, but the words never got a chance to exit her lips.

A blinding flash overwhelmed all the main screens, and the sound of thunder split the very air around her.

"Damn them. Damn those dirty---"

Alyra

"Early partial detonation triggered on Warhead one."

Hutch raised an eyebrow. I set my beak, and my expression as hard as I could.

The action technically fulfilled the terms of the hastily agreed truce. Setting the weapon off at medium yield so high in the atmosphere would wreck countless military satellites on the facing side of the planet. All replaceable, but not quickly, cheaply, or easily.

The damage would last months, and hurt the Earthgov military more than it would hurt the JRSF.

It would also turn off the lights in a dozen major cities for hours, be visible to almost everyone in the hemisphere, but produce no other negative effects to civilians. No covering this one up. Questions were going to be asked if I had anything to say about it.

The shock and EMP would hurt, but not outright kill, the GMCC. Mission kill, yes, but only for a short while. Time for the JRSF to get a throat-lock on the Earthgov military, and prevent the whole song and dance from starting again too soon.

There still, I reflected with a grim twisted smile, needed to be someone with authority to surrender when Hutch's superiors delivered an inevitable ultimatum.

I clenched one claw on the rubberized grip of the tactical station's railing. I imagined getting my own claws around the throat of 'Norris,' whomever she was, and squeezing until her evil left the world in short order.

The idea of firing a weapon, let alone a strategic one, directly at non combatant civilians, made every part of me sick. The Human part, the Gryphon part, the God fearing part, and the part that was a sane and moral being with free will.

The second warhead plummeted onwards, on the down-leg of its arc towards Creek Mountain Colorado. I knew what it represented. I knew more about half of the Earthgov's facilities than they did.

High frequency pings were emitting from the holodome, counting down the time to impact.

All the color fell out of Councilor Martin's face, but she didn't say a word. Hutch just nodded soberly. Silent affirmation. I felt part of the tension in my gizzard release. The hardest part would have been judgement from my family, and Hutch certainly was a part of our family.

That Martins, a Councilor, would stand with us in that moment brought my respect for her to new heights. And I knew she'd been important to Dad's conversion. That made her extended family at the very least.

The Earthgov had tried to murder its own to accomplish an objective for the last time. They needed to know who we were, and just exactly how seriously we took their actions. So much the better that at least one Councilor would join the rebellion.

With an antimatter warhead, I finally had the power to make them stop.

Not just the way Dad had made them stop hurting us, but to make them sit up and pay attention completely. To not just be afraid of losing. To be afraid of losing *badly* and immediately.

To make them stop hurting everyone by thrashing and fit pitching in the middle of an extinction we were all trying to save everyone from.

I wasn't naive enough to think that it would come all at once. Or even quickly. Or that we were guaranteed a way out without a horrible war.

But I knew that if I held my tongue, and my claws off the panel, that things would change in ways no other force could hope to cause. I could prevent an end worse, and soaked in more blood, than even the worst war I could envision.

My choice would bring bad. But also good.

A lack of change would leave so much to fester. The poor on the streets, gutted and sucked dry by a system that made no sense. The dead in the alleys, victims of anti-Equestrian sentiment. The bodies on the battlefields; Scorched or twisted by the Earthgov's own weapons, given willingly into the hands of the HLF.

This one act would start to unseat that status quo. Completely.

Forever.

I wasn't naive enough to think that what I'd done was anything but a huge gamble. I knew what the Dead Hand was. Half the junior officers, and ninety nine percent of the civilian population didn't, but I did. The actual strategic arsenal had only been a proposal when I was forced to memorize the specifications. Now it was all too real.

We'd been trained for so many Armageddon scenarios... So many things the Echelon had drilled into our brains that we hadn't understood. They made us memorize and parrot the way fanatics might parrot scripture without knowing or caring what it means.

So many nights talking with Dad and sorting it out. Trying to actually understand, so I could cope. And so I could arm myself with true knowledge.

I knew that if Hutch's counterparty was any kind of smart, she would have placed the Dead Hand on a cooldown. To prevent it instantly starting over if our own warhead failsafes produced any secondary effects. Unfortunately I didn't know for sure that 'Norris' was any kind of smart. I just hoped. And prayed.

Lord please forgive me if I'd made a mistake.

But the alternative was even worse. They had known what might happen when they decided to target a Conversion Bureau. They were getting less than what they truly deserved, by far.

If I'd had a way, I would have pressed the button to kill every last one of the Military Command without hesitation. The good soldiers along with the bad.

I knew I'd probably pulled the trigger on several hundred people who were considerably less-than-evil. But not innocent. No soldier is innocent. Especially not the ones who worked for, and along-side speciesists, and knew it.

Civilians are outside war, soldiers are not. I'd expect my own father to do the same if he had to, and I was 'one of the good ones' in the blast zone. The number of HLF, HLF-sympathizers, and former E12 I was killing would outnumber the 'good' soldiers fifteen to one.

And every one of the Earthgov flag officers was a risk that we just couldn't take anymore. Even the mid level ones could order L-RAC strikes.

Use my father up and cast him out. Let an unseen enemy take his eyes, and try to force-Convert half of New York state. Deny my father an escape, to be the thing he most wanted to be, only to finally accede under heavy political pressure.

Leave orphans to die on the streets, when the fruits of the singularity could house and feed us all. Deny Conversion to minors with no other way out, even though they know what they want. The escape they desperately need.

Tax the already poor as they try to flee the barrier. Invite the Trolls in and let them enslave people so that they can be used as barter for political power, assets on the other side of the Barrier, and valuable gems.

Torture me.

Make me a soldier before I'm old enough to read.

Make me kill before I can write my name.

Torture my sister. Kill her.

Torture our friends. Fill us all with perverse technologies to be shaped into a weapon to be hurled at those who showed us kindness as our world died.

The debt keeps mounting. The risks keep rising.

Fire railguns into the San Francisco Bureau. Drop a world-ender on our closest allies, and a whole city of the innocent with them, and the Council finally makes a public performance of change.

The Humanist anti-Equestrian Generals still sit their titanium and leather thrones.

My father rips the throats out of the Twelfth Echelon. Still no real change in the Council. Promises of diversity training. False oaths that things will get better. Performative donations to charities from corporate heads and Councilors alike. Allowances for the JRSF to become a wholly separate peace keeping force on the shortest possible leash.

But still the Council wants veto power on their actions against the HLF especially, and what's left of Echelon Twelve.

Still come Human high-caste interests over all others. Still Conversion numbers are too low, and the Council will give no extra funds to Genesis. A way for Humans who feel the need to stay that way to survive, and thrive. The only way.

Still the Council courts a disaster that I can picture in my mind's eye in frightening detail.

Untold billions perish as the last Ships leave, and the last land vanishes, and the Potions can't be made fast enough to take the finally panicked and ready masses at the very end.

They prime the pump to feed three and a half billion into the maw of the barrier, vaporized as they scramble over each other when the end arrives, in just a few short decades, bloodletting and butchering to be the last ones standing on the last square meters of Australia.

Celestia begs them to see reason. My father begs them. Luna entreats, and threatens. Their own people scream for relief.

More money spent in the last five years to fire weapons at our own people than to shelter, feed, Convert, or evacuate them.

The Equestrian nation could do so little. What if Earthgov kicked them out? How will passive Ponykind ever find the strength to retaliate to save Humanity from their own warriors? So they bow to the will of the corporatocracy.

A monetary system itself propped up by inertia and fools grasping at power. Something we long outgrew the need for, used as the velvet gloved iron fist of a machine to rule the planet unopposed.

And on the other side, a nearly identical fist of iron, only naked and glinting; The Earthgov holds their new strategic arsenal, and threatens in low but ever-louder tones to use it on allies.

On its own citizens.

Fire Nukes at a Conversion Bureau...

Enough.

They made me. They made me what I was just as much as my father and mother did when they offered me my wings; An instrument of death.

Only they weren't my masters anymore, and I would be no one's slave. 'Right' was an unshakeable and true ideal now. My viewpoint was my own, not some manual of rules set to achieve maximum power and profits.

So I would do what they made me to do. And I would do what God made Gryphons to do.

And in the process, I would sow the seeds to finally unmake them.

No more civilian casualties at Earthgov's hands.

I held my claws still. Kept my beak shut, save to murmur softly to myself.

"For you... Sonya. And for all of us."

One moment Creek Mountain Colorado existed.

A military installation the size of a small city on the surface, home to a fair sized skyport that primarily existed to shuttle high-value officers to and from the Earthgov Air and Space command.

Inside the mountain a vast warren of tunnels that strengthened out to combined lengths in the hundreds of miles, and hosted four thousand personnel. Fusion reactors big enough to run the Eastern Seaboard, with fuel enough to run for a century. An aquifer with enough water for thousands to subsist for twice as long. Hydroponics bays with food to match.

An underground tunnel, wide enough for ten tanks abreast, connecting twenty miles through solid granite to the basement of Cheyenne Mountain, where NORAD, and then the HLF, had formerly resided. An open secret to the entire base command staff at Creek Mountain. Half of them had openly worked in both places simultaneously, and the other half had seen to the day to day workings of Echelon Twelve's military tentacles.

Enough AI computing hardware to run every system on Earth. Twice. With spare power.

A communications suite that could reach out and touch anything on the planet, one of only two that had the control codes for the Dead Hand, and the remainder of the strategic arsenal.

And half of the Earthgov Military's newly re-organized high-command staff, split evenly with the new GMCC under Serranilla Bank.

The next moment, Creek Mountain Colorado ceased to exist.

It was replaced with a fireball, which expanded in an instant to six kilometers in radius. Had Colorado Springs and the adjacent environs still been an inhabited settlement, instead of an abandoned part of the military safety exclusion zone around the facility, everyone in it would have been reduced to base carbons at the speed of thought. At the height of its population over a quarter million would have perished.

Had Alyra not dropped the warhead's yield to fifty percent, and programmed it to detonate only after passing fifty meters into the ground, the Thaumatically Pumped anti-deuterium reaction would have reached out and burned off half of Denver as well, albeit without casualties; The city had long since been ceded to the cold starving winters of the Winnowing. The need to increase power grid efficiency, combined with the desire for a military exclusion zone meant it had never built back.

There would be not one single civilian casualty from the blast.

The top of Creek Mountain, and Cheyenne mountain, were flung into the upper atmosphere as an immense radiationless cloud of ejecta that touched the top of the atmosphere, and eventually clocked in as the largest such cloud ever produced by an intentionally detonated Human weapon on Earth.

The Creek Mountain Facility, the Cheyenne Mountain Facility, and everything attached to them, were dissociated at the atomic level before nerves could even fire in the dead officers' minds.

Moving at the speed of light, the thermal pulse cooked the surrounding fifty one point four kilometers in a perfect circle, wiping out every object on the surface in an instant. Rock. Steel. Petrified plant matter. Military Vehicles. Military Personnel. Duracrete. Nothing survived.

As the lurid red glow faded over the horizon, and the ground stopped shaking, failsafe breakers in the Northamerizone powergrid tripped, in response to both the Creek Mountain and Serranilla Bank detonations. Every city south of Harrisburg, and East of Phoenix went dark as the AI controlling the power grid scrambled to disconnect and save the most sensitive and important components.

Three quarters of all satellites in orbit above the Western Hemisphere shut down, fried beyond repair in an instant, including the most hardened military platforms. Communications for the Northamerizone vanished instantly from the global grid.

As the fireball finally completely faded a minute later, the surviving parts of the SatVision constellation came above the horizon, moving opposite to the vector of the Genesist colony ships sheltering in the lee side of the Earth's curvature.

All that was left of Creek Mountain Air and Space Command was a crater three miles wide, and one mile deep, sitting in a vaporized carbon scored circle, capped by a cloud of ejecta potent enough to drop global temperatures by a degree celcius.

A scar visible from orbit.

From her position suspended in the control column, Veritas couldn't help but smirk as ghostly ballistic track lines and EM waveforms flashed across her mind.

So. The apekind had finally snapped. At long last.

In her best projections, a vast world war would touch off an evacuation panic, pushing huge numbers to Convert by the fastest produced and mostly widely available serum. The Ponification Potion.

The outcome she had so desired, and so long worked for.

Even one or two billion dead would be nothing, the rest would more than make up the needed difference. Kicking, screaming, and scrambling to become exactly what she wanted them to be.

What she needed them to be.

Thousands of being-hours of investment had gone into funding and expanding the PER, and the HLF alike. The carrot to lure, the stick to prod. And even funding for the Bureaus too, and the occasional manipulation to ensure they didn't fail early on.

Laying the seeds for the linking of the HLF with Chrysalis' Changelings had been, in her not so humble opinion, a stroke of brilliance as well. It served to keep the Changelings and other races further at odds, small rebel Hives notwithstanding, and it gave the HLF untold potential to damage not just Human stability on Earth, but Gryphon and Pony stability in Equestria, via the Diamond dog go-betweens.

Prodding the dreams of the Humans' military leaders to stoke their fears, and inspire new weapons had been trivial. Manipulating their corporate and financial structures to fund all sides of the conflict, until the fires of war were stoked to white hot heat, had been practically no effort whatsoever.

They had been an excellent target. Humans. Grossly swift reproducers. Brilliant makers of horrifying innovations that she would soon twist entirely to her own ends. But most importantly, numerous already in number, and easily manipulable through their fears, and their nightmares.

Their racism, classism, greed, and paranoia had been like a pre-fertilized field with perfect sunlight and water to the seeds of her plan.

And too, there was fantastic poetry in it. All things in full circle. As if the Hegira had never even happened, when it was all over.

At last all the pieces were reaching their points of full fruition.

All-out war would shatter any burgeoning alliances that posed a risk to the Dispossessed.

Feh.

And to think the void of voids had once voted for that idiot Sombra's plan in favor of hers. They'd soon seen their error.

Creating crystalline Ponies. A mistake that had been a thorn in her side for years, until she finally found a way to quietly dispose of their growing threat. At least long enough to keep them a few centuries behind. The meddling students of the Solar Avatar had spoiled a potentially permanent imprisonment. But the damage had been done. Enough damage had been done.

That their creations patterned off carbon-based Equines would have a burgeoning free will, resulting in eventual rebellion and loss of control, had been an obvious outcome.

Using the crystalline gateway device, the 'Tipler Cylinder' Human theorists called it, that Ponies had once used to arrive in Equestria as the means to seal off their 'Crystal Empire' had been a magnificent use of a leftover piece of the Hegira that had cemented her role as leader of the Dispossessed.

Damning the fool Sombra to have his essence split into crystal amulets as a punishment for his failure had been one last stroke of genius in a flawless campaign. It more than made up for her past failings, and exile.

The times she had used those amulets as a gateway to wreak havoc with the Alicorns' feeble attempts at peace, and stability. It was both amusing, and elegantly satisfying. Ponies were so bad about touching shiny things they just didn't understand. Humans too apparently.

She closed off the loop on her recollections with an amber trilling sigh of contentment.

No matter. And no matter that her own local weapon systems remained more or less destroyed.

Whether the Humans finally took the full plunge, or merely contented themselves with a few exchanged 'strategic' weapons, and then fell to more smoldering squabbling afterwards, either end would serve her ultimate goal neatly.

And Genesis would not survive the day regardless. No escape for Humans beyond Conversion.

Killing Fyrenn, Neyla, and Skye would further cement absolute victory. Three of The Six all gone in one bright flash.

Veritas thrummed a deep violet note of satisfaction, and trained her eyes-linked-to-sensors on Shenzhou expectantly, holding the retreat trajection spell on the cusp of her awareness.

Not much longer.

Skye

"Aston! Right side of the faceplate, in three seconds, full overcharge!"

I couldn't give the warning too soon, or the Troll would parse it out for herself, and might duck. It usually took the ones with bloodlust going a solid five seconds to make sense of anything said in Terran Common though, so I figured three seconds was perfect.

The brute was the last of her kind in the room; The next to last one had gotten swiss cheesed by Aston's particle rifle pretty quickly. Apparently he forgot the first rule of how not to be seen, because he'd stood up right into our second volley of fire, and he'd already gotten quite a few weak spots in his armor from the first round.

I didn't feel the tiniest whiff of sympathy for him, the one Neyla had slaughtered, the one Aston and I were about to pulp, or any of Troll-kind. I knew enough Ponies who'd lost foals, particularly young fillies, to roving Troll packs. I knew what kind of life had befallen those stolen foals. Let's just say that I was a *big* fan of what the Gryphons had done to the Trolls, right up until the point that they stopped. And that stopping was the only part I took issue with.

Not a very Pony-like sentiment, but I'd never been an average Pony. Even before I met Fyrenn and the rest of our whacked out little herd. I always felt the whole 'no violence, peace in our time' schtick was a stinking hypocritical pile when it came from our nobles. But maybe that was just my opinion of my fathers talking.

Right on the cusp of the three second mark, I concentrated and reached for the magic sustaining my frontal shield. A quick restitch of two threads in the spellweave, a ticklish gray one, and a vanilla spiky one, and the shield lashed out like a net, going from convex to concave on the outer surface, and shrinking down to grab the Troll's head.

I smirked, and twisted. Hard. The action forced the weakest part of her faceplace, the part that had been hit five times already by my pistol, directly into Aston's line of fire.

The Troll locked eyes with Aston over the holosight over her rifle, at point blank range.

"Hi."

As Aston said the word, she squeezed the trigger, having flicked the overcharge switch in the breath before.

There was a colossal 'TSEEWWW' mixed with a 'WHUMP' as the Troll's head vaporized to atoms inside the helmet, and the blast continued, weakened, out the back of the armor, splashing across a far wall support strut to leave behind a nasty divot.

Good shot red two.

I raised one hoof, and Aston reached out with her offhand fist to give it a bump.

We both turned out heads just in time to see Fyrenn and Neyla perform the most gorgeous combination dual backflip, laying into the remaining Wisp with three swords all at once.

It promptly fell apart like that dumb tomcat in the Looney Tunes whenever something slices him into a bunch of little rivulets.

What a magnificent pair they made. Not for the first time I had to fight the urge to keep plotting how I might help Alyra get those two hitched and snogging their hearts out. Or however Gryphons expressed romantic affection. One hell of a battle couple in the making.

I quickly squelched the distractions, fired up my combination holding/disruption spell, and let loose with my pistol in sync. The Wisp died like the one before it. Screaming. Some deeper primal prey animal part of me always felt a sharp chill at that sound.

Like the thing was going to reach out and freeze my soul.

I murmured aloud, "Yeah. Fuck you too buddy."

Human curse words really were helpful, and maybe even fun I decided. The invective made my stomach churn a little less, and refocused my train of thought.

Time to save the world again. Or at least one very important corner of it, undergirding the future of Humans as a physical species, along with all the lives of the ship's skeleton crew, my family, the ground staff of the facility... No pressure or anything.

Presuming World War III wasn't off to the races outside. Fyrenn and Neyla didn't even have any idea how close everyone was to the brink. For that matter I didn't know how much worse it might've gotten.

Fucking Mondays.

Actually it was a Thursday. But Fuck Mondays anyways. And this particular Thursday too.

Astris, or the thing inside him... It struck me that the arrogant prick I decided I hadn't liked very much was actually a Wisp, and not the real Astris... It spared only a half second lazy glance at us before getting back to trying to murder us in spectacular fashion.

Worse, and much less cool ways to go, than an antimatter explosion.

But not today, Physics. Not today.

"I need that door open."

Thanks captain obvious.

I rolled my eyes at Fyrenn's statement, wincing and regretting my sarcasm instantly as I saw the golden ichor and blood oozing from a deep gash in his chest armor. The Wisp spike was still in there. Holy forking shirtballs those Gryphons could take their punishment for something with such brittle bones and low mass.

I lowered my horn, and began the delicate dance of math, instinct, physics, and memory that underpinned the best magic I could muster.

"Stand back. I'm going to do a science."

Human memes were pretty cool too I guess.

Martins

"You understand your orders? No discussion of anything about what's happened. With anyone besides senior staff."

A chorus of nodding heads and murmured affirmations from the fourteen captains filled my terminal. Zebra, Gryphons, Humans, and Ponies. A majority of Humans, but enough of each of the others to have at least two representatives of each.

I could feel the next words hitching in my throat. I clamped down on my feelings as hard as I could, and ground out what had to be said.

"If all goes well, wave two will have good news to bring, and you can unseal what happened here today at that point, where it isn't going to cause unrest for you. If no future waves arrive... Then you're to assume the worst, and use your best judgements. Godspeed. I hope I'll see you all in about two years, by your perspectives."

I bit back tears as each captain nodded, and gave their sign off. Some waved. Some spoke ancient prayers of blessing for me, in the language of their kind. Others just did their best to hold back their own emotions.

We'd all agreed fairly rapidly; Asking them to stay in orbit and provide any additional support presented too many risks, and complications. For both them, and us. They had a massive journey to undertake. And they were not outside the range of LEO, or even theoretical HEO strategic weapons.

I knew each and every one of them like family. To know they would escape the horrors that might unfold in the next few minutes. Hours. Days. Years... It helped quench the pain.

If they made it, and we'd given them every possible chance and advantage... Then brothers of Man, and Equestrian, would yet survive. Somewhere beyond the heavens.

My life had gone into the Genesis project. A beautiful, shared dream, of wings for all kinds soaring through the stars.

And if anything went even slightly wrong in the next few moments, I'd never get to join them. Wave two would die right there on the African plains. And all of us left on Shenzhou with it.

Curses of the gods on whatever sick fool had given the order to fire Nukes.

And double curses on these 'Wisps.' It finally made sense why Ponies kept up their alliance with the Gryphons. Why Gryphons themselves were so harsh, and frightening. Their whole point was to fight off nightmares in the dark reaches of the world too terrifying for Human, or Pony minds to easily get to grips with. To fight monsters, your best bet was monsters.

I hoped dearly that the monsters who had become some of my most trusted allies were prevailing. Both the ones I knew so well in the power core, and ones I knew far less well out halfway around the Earth.

"Status?"

Alyra shook her head at the query, vocalizing the answer the way a trained soldier would. Every time that young woman spoke or moved in a way that betrayed her upbringing, it tore out a small piece of my heart.

How the Hell could any Human being do that to another? She'd probably killed more people than Hutch had. And suffered worse than any torture most soldiers had ever experienced.

Maybe we were the monsters. Not Fyrenn and his kind. At least they restricted their warfare where the young were concerned. Not something one could readily say of Humanity in this age, or the last.

"Unchanged. No movement from the Earthgov military. The BattleNet is in pieces. Our own link to the outside world is barely holding. No word from below. No change from the enemy ship."

Hutch exhaled and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded... Not defeated, but perhaps truly exhausted. For the stress to be so visible on his face... He'd run out of patience with our former leaders long ago. As we all finally had, apparently.

"If GMCC wanted to, or could start up the ballgame again, we wouldn't be here talking about it. I just got an encrypted text flash from Brendt... Apparently they sent the ultimatum a moment ago. I still can't believe you signed it."

I snorted, and straightened the hem of my top reflexively. Force of habit for many a military officer, and civilian official. I didn't bother to hide the disdain in my voice. I'd felt some hesitation initially. Having a few minutes to contemplate the idea of my colleagues firing nuclear armaments at children had done wonders for my rebellious streak.

It didn't hurt that they'd tried to block, disassemble, and squash my life's work at every turn.

"To Hell with the Council. If we live through this, I'm unilaterally pulling my representative district out of the whole damn show. It wouldn't be hard to get a secession measure going. Not once people see what Norris almost did. Maybe we'll try for protectorate status with the Gryphons. Better protection than EarthGov would give."

To my surprise, though not that much surprise, Hutch nodded sagely, and scratched the bald dome of his head above his right eyebrow.

"I'll bet you anything you like that Fyrenn will vouch for you. After this shitshow? I'm frankly ashamed to call myself Human anymore. I want out. I don't even have to give up the JRSF bars to get feathers. Aston wants to take it as a double header with me. We keep putting it off... But I guess we're past time for putting things off now."

A moment of silence passed, and the General looked up at me with a forlorn smile. I'd never seen him smile like that before. It suddenly struck me how close a friend, and ally he'd been over the years, in spite of how harshly I'd judged him on first meeting.

His next words brought a smile to both my face, and Alyra's, and a chuckle out of the depths of my wracked and tired bones.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me tomorrow."

As the laughter faded, quickly as it had come, I shook my head slowly, smile dissipating shortly thereafter.

"Hutch, much as I disagree with you about feeling ashamed to be Human... I very much hope you'll do your ceremony here with us. I have always wanted to see another species' wedding rituals. Gryphons will do for a first foray. In fact as a Councilor, I can make it official by Earth laws as well, if you're so inclined to do a more Human style affair. Before I swear off my position officially."

Hutch shook his head, and winked. True joy entering his words, almost brightening the bridge visibly for just the briefest moment.

"Janet, I'm flattered and honored. But truth be told? I think we're just gonna elope."

Alyra smiled, rolled her eyes, and flattened her ears.

"You need to work on my Dad. I think we're close... He just needs a friendly push. Or two. Maybe a shove. You're not afraid to give my Dad a shove are you?"

I smirked in spite of myself, and gestured out the view dome towards the Wisp ship, answering on Hutch's behalf as he laughed silently to himself.

"Alyra, if we survive this day, I don't think any of us have cause to be afraid of much besides the Wisps ever again."

Fyrenn

The squeal of protesting crystalline material was almost unbearable as I dragged my right talons down the transparisteel wall. The motion barely left four tiny scratch grooves, but that wasn't the point. The extremely pained, and annoyed look on not-Astris' muzzle was.

Surprising us all, it spoke, sounding almost disinterested as magic from the Unicorn's horn continued to flow out into the top of the torpedo, and the side of the antimatter bottle.

"You really shouldn't do that. If I slip while doing this, we will all perish immediately. The torpedo safeties are... No longer present."

Whether it was true or not, the words elevated my heart rate as a matter of reflex. And I suppose that was the point. To hit back at me in the same petty way I'd lashed out with my little 'nails on chalkboard' maneuver.

What the Wisp didn't know was that I had far more important reasons beyond mere pettiness.

With a concerted mental effort, I quashed the temptation to look over at Skye. Sitting just out of view of not-Astris, the brilliant little Unicorn was busy stringing together a spell that was at once both familiar to me, but also eerily new and, if the thrum in the jaw of my beak was any indication, exceedingly powerful.

Not for the first time, I reminded myself that people who underestimated Ponies did it at their peril. Especially Ponies like Skye. I'd never seen an Equine take to so many decidedly un-Equestrian things as quickly as she did. Lots of people mistook her for a Convert when they first met her.

I had only a fleeting idea of what dark and painful life events had shattered her cultural and biological passivity defaults. Something terrible to do with her biological family. I found myself wanting simultaneously to know everything, and nothing about it.

Later Fyrenn. If you survive this. Later. Hell of a lot of things to accomplish first.

Neyla smoothly took over the task of distraction as I briefly slipped into silent thought.

"You will not leave this place alive. Either way."

The demon thing inside Astris' head actually turned to offer Neyla a brief disdainful glance, followed by a twisted, sick bastardization of a smile that was not at all at home on a Pony's face.

"Would you kill an innocent little Pony just to get at me?"

The words left me with a hollow, aching stab of pain in my core, distinct from the ongoing dull throb of the embedded Wisp tail barb. I didn't know Astris, the real one, at all. But the part of me that wanted to protect innocent life, that went all the way back to my Marine days, and had only gotten stronger with the arrival of my feathers, hated the idea of killing him.

There was something else there too. A nagging sensation of a need to protect him because he was a Pony, and Gryphons are natural protectors of Ponies.

Anyone peddling bullshit about Gryphons as stomach-prodded carnivores gobbling up Ponies at the slightest provocation was a dumbass. Anyone suggesting we ever took a life without careful consideration was either selling something on the enemy side, or just didn't realize how much thinking we could do in a short span of time.

And all the legends about us being gold-loving greedy psychopaths apparently stemmed from a mistranslation of our words for 'treasure' and 'children.' We barely had a use for money, and our social safety nets would have made Marx blush and fan himself profusely.

But apparently there were bedtime stories amongst the Ponies about our species living in decay atop a dying tree, hoarding dwindling stocks of gold and gems, bickering and infighting ourselves to death. There had to be a story about an idiot with an agenda behind that one.

Poke our resources, we'll poke back in kind. No more no less.

But our fledglings? Hell, even the fledglings of other races? Poke that. See if anyone besides the young of your species is still there the day after. If you live long enough to see the tail end of the slaughter.

The vast majority of that protective instinct extended to any innocent creature, regardless of age. Perhaps more so Ponies than anything else though.

But as the old proverb went... 'The needs of the many.'

I knew in that terrible moment that I had it in me to do it, if there was no other way. But only just. And only if there truly was no other way. And I hated that realization with every fiber of my bleeding, exhausted, pain-wracked being.

Neyla delivered her answer with far more surety than I'd've been able to press into my voice.

"Come out here and see. Or just wait for Aston to finish cutting through the door, it makes no difference to me."

Aston glanced up from her work with the fusion cutter tool, to fix Neyla with a deep stare, raising an eyebrow in surprise. I also thought I could see a hint of disgust there too. Typical of her. Good soldier. Even a good friend. But not a very good warrior by my measuring stick.

There is a big difference that Humans seem to keep missing. Warriors are steeped in battle, and function in it the way birds do in air, or fish in water. All warriors are good soldiers, but not all good soldiers are warriors. A soldier is just someone who has been trained and equipped to fight, and does it for a career at some point.

Aston never had the stomach for the things full unbounded warfare could ask of a soldier. I didn't blame her for that. No judgement here. Not everyone should be soldiers, or even warriors. Surprisingly, not all Gryphons are warriors, though we are all predators.

But I sure as hell wasn't pleased that Aston's stance had gone 'from preachin' to meddlin' in the past, as my grandma used to say.

At least she'd bowed out before it got to a point where I'd have had to hurt her. Or worse.

They tell me what I'd done was because of something called 'red-lining.' If anyone had bothered to study Gryphon history they'd have known the fastest way to commit suicide-by-Gryphon is to even so much as breathe a half-baked threat against even one of our young.

Alyra. At least, I reflected grimly, if the Shenzhou went up in an antimatter explosion, Alyra, Neyla and I would all die together. None of us forced to bear the awful weight of carrying on without one of the others.

I blinked back a stream of tears at the thought, glancing first at the ceiling, in the direction of the bridge, then at Skye, then at Neyla.

Daughter.

Sister.

Mate-to-be?

People use the phrase 'and then something inside snapped.'
Something inside me snapped. Not for worse, but for the better.

Time almost seemed to stop. I could see the future in my mind's eye.

There was Neyla, curled up beside me with one wing over my back, and my own right wing. Red feathers in her crest, the same as the blue in mine. Under the canopy of both our wings, sandwiched between us, Alyra. Skye. Stan. IJ, still a Changeling, but no longer a Hive Queen. And a little foal; Part Pegasus, part Changeling.

A picnic of fruits, breads and cheeses split between them. Something Skye had said had provoked a bout of laughter so intense that even IJ was rolling around in the deep green grass completely out of control.

Across the patch of turf Kephic. Sildinar, locked deep in a loving gaze with Seyal. Varan. And two other Gryphons locked wing-in-wing who I recognized as with a sudden start. Hutch. Aston.

Sitting beside and between them, an eclectic mix of both Natives, and Converts. More Ponies. Gryphons, some whom I recognized, General Sorven in particular. Changelings. Even Diamond Dogs, and a couple of young Dragons.

A family. And around that family a clan, like nothing the world had ever seen before.

And in the same instant, the vision was gone.

But I knew, deep in my heart of hearts, that it was possible. And I knew I'd give anything to make it real. No fear followed in the vision's wake. No nameless paranoia. Only love.

Suddenly living to see tomorrow became, somehow, even more of an imperative. The pain in my ribs vanished in a warm golden glow that spread out to the leading edges of my wings.

I grit my beak in determination, and stood aside as Skye finally rose, horn bathed in a piercing blue and teal glow that manifested as hypnotic and complex fractal bursts and sparks.

As she moved to stand in front of the transparisteel pane, she opened her eyes.

They glowed, literally, with the same blue colored fires of energy.

I shivered in spite of myself.

Not-Astris turned, sensing the approach of the intense magical field, but it was far too late by then.

Wordlessly, but with an expression of pure unadulterated hatred on her muzzle that spoke volumes, Skye released the pent up thaumatic weapon.

A dazzling burst of teal and blue shot straight through the glass as if it wasn't even there, piercing Astris' skull, and wrapping itself around his mind through his eyes, ears, nostrils, and muzzle.

A piercing cry came from between his lips, and then he collapsed on the deck, as if someone had simply shut off his neuromuscular system with a switch. In fact, I wagered that was exactly what Skye had done.

Subtle dancing glows persisted around the Unicorn's head. I realized almost immediately what she'd done. She'd trapped the Wisp there, while also severing its connection to Astris' body.

Brilliant, and terrifyingly effective. As always.

She stood panting for a moment, head hung, fur lathered in sweat. I moved to place a wing over her back, and met her eyes with a smile.

"Damn good shot. You are one in a million, you know that?"

A tiny hint of a smirk graced her lips, and she cocked her head slightly.

"Actually feathers? That damn good shot is more like one-in-a-billion. I know Mages who have studied under Celestia herself who couldn't do that little trick to save their lives. I was not at all sure I could pull it off."

Neyla shook her head, and chuckled, a gorgeous musical chime that washed over us all and seemed to bring with it hope, and energy. She shook her head again and spoke to Skye with a warmth that always made me feel just that much more alive to have even heard it.

"Skye, I would never have doubted it. Even if I had some frame of reference to understand how difficult it was. None of us would have doubted it."

Aston switched off the fusion cutter, placing it on the deck, and then reaching over to ruffle Skye's mane as she spoke with a similar smile.

"You, m'lady, are a steely-eyed missile-mare."

Skye smirked again, and stepped out from beneath my wing, reaching out through the glass with her telekinesis to begin diffusing the torpedo, and undoing the Wisp's other half-finished machinations, muttering aloud as she worked.

"We're not quite done yet. But I'll wear the title with pride."

Veritas knew something was wrong instantly. A very particular pinprick of light in the void, the low thrum of a specific Wisp's thought processes as it worked to complete its task, suddenly replaced with a flash of blue-green pain, and then silence.

As if it had been cut off. By death, or disruption, who could say?

The taste of the severing was very similar, disturbingly so, to the way that the most recent disconnections had occurred. Those voices had not rejoined the void.

A decision was made in but a tenth of a second. Consensus from the void followed. The bright
glow of the control column dimmed, replaced by a bright violet flare as a trajection spell formed.

Veritas murmured aloud through gritted teeth as the spatial fold enveloped her.

"If you want something done properly..."

Chapter 16

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

High above the Earth's surface, brushing up against the altitude record for fixed wing flight, Nightwatch One dipped into a shallow southerly turn. The immense emergency command plane was little more than a gray stealth-compound coated shadow, wider than it was long, with a shallow delta wing shape, albeit one of ominous size, and sharp angular edges.

Designed to stay aloft for nearly a month without additional fuel, it could carry hundreds of crew in relative comfort for weeks. Relative comfort in the context of potential armageddon, at any rate.

The fifty two Councilor's onboard had access to the complete suite of command and control systems they could have expected at any ground-based Earthgov installation, three square meters of personal quarters each, and even a special deliberation and broadcast chamber, linked by heavily encrypted SatVision conduits to any media outlet on Earth, or to the fifty five Councilors on the second Command Plane, and the remaining one hundred and eleven Councilors secreted in safehouses and emergency operations centers globally.

The rooms were colloquially known as 'Purgatories' for their spartan, drab design, combined with the morbid thought of what it would mean for one of them to be full.

The Purgatory of Nightwatch One was full, fifty two Councilors each seated around the U-shaped steel table that dominated the room, filling its hard plastic gray seats not quite to capacity in tandem with the dozen military officers present.

A pall hung over the assembled official as the highest ranked military officer, a Force Captain with the Army, rose and cleared her throat. Data and images coalesced onto the chamber's forward floor-to-ceiling wall screen as she spoke, replacing the video conference feed linked to Nightwatch Two, and the safehouse network, even as the audio link remained.

"As of zero seven thirty Greenwich mean time, the facts are these: At zero six fifty four, GMCC monitoring planes following a situation unfolding at the Genesist Collective's Lucapa Facility picked up transmissions of concern. At zero six fifty eight, SatVision confirmed the presence of an extraterrestrial enemy craft above the facility. Commanding General Norris in the GMCC ordered an immediate containment strike with tactical nuclear warheads deployed from deep-stand-off attack bomber group 'Hatchet' over the Mediterranean."

The Captain inhaled deeply, and gestured to the screen. The images elicited gasps and murmurs from the assembled Councilors and Officers alike.

"At zero seven oh four, on orders from JRSF General Hutchinson, railgun rounds from FBB-55 JSS North Carolina struck all three DSOB aircraft in Hatchet group, killing pilot and copilot, and destroying twelve additional strategic warheads. A Falx from North Carolina intercepted and unlawfully destroyed the already launched warheads. General Norris ordered retaliatory strikes at zero seven oh six."

The officer winced internally as she forced herself to intentionally omit the contents of Norris' second strike orders. No sense in priming the Council to side with their enemy yet. She did her best to continue without allowing any hint of her decision to color her tone.

"At zero seven oh seven, the Genesist Collective sleeper ship Shenzhou fired two Apollyon class antimatter weapons in response. Weapon one was targeted to the GMCC under Serranilla Bank, weapon two was targeted to Air and Space Command under Creek Mountain."

Sharp gasps and inhalations swept the room as SatVision footage of the aftermath filled the screen.

"At zero seven oh eight, General Norris engaged the fail safes in her strike assets, and agreed to a ceasefire. This was followed by a twenty five percent strength high-atmosphere early detonation of antimatter weapon one above Serranilla Bank... And a direct ground strike at fifty percent weapon yield on Creek mountain with weapon two."

"God... DAMN!"

The words were whispered by one of the Councilors at the far end of the table, filled as much with shock, and fear as anger. The Force Captain shook her head slowly, and overlaid a series of statistics numbers onto the display with the sweep of one hand in the air.

"Initial projections and analysis show the facility completely obliterated, along with everything in the surrounding environs. Four thousand one hundred and three dead. All Earthgov military personnel and private military contractors."

The euphemism for corporate mercenaries, often used for blackbook work that would otherwise have far exceeded the definitions of 'legal,' and most of whom were also HLF, did not go unnoticed by the Councilors and officers who were more familiar with it. The Force Captain continued unabated.

"No deaths in the GMCC, but three layers of the defense shielding spalled under the shock, rupturing some of the power air and water umbilicals, and more than half the computer systems were crippled when the EMP hit, including the loss of all facility AI. NorthAmerizone power grid AI had slightly more lead time due to distance, and managed to disconnect many breaker relays when the pulses hit, and that saved ninety percent of the critical grid infrastructure on the ground. Power is still out for most of NorthAmerizone, but should be restored by this time tomorrow... But we lost almost a third of the SatVision constellation, sixty two percent of the KeyHole system, and fourteen other various important communications satellites, both civilian and military in the Seranilla detonation. With GMCC crippled, Creek Mountain gone, and the SatVision network stretched extremely thin to cover the holes, we lack a functioning centralized military command and control platform as of this time, and are mostly operating in the blind from more local command posts, with very little centralization of intelligence either."

The Force Captain finally looked up and actually began to lock eyes with the assembled Councilors as she finished the flash briefing.

"Civilian news media is aware of both blasts, and some outlets are reporting the outbreak of civil war. Severe rioting has started across all major cities and settlements at this time, intensifying with every minute, and JRSF forces, backed by ConSec, as well as civilian vigilante gangs, have begun to push Military Police forces away from all Conversion Bureaus, and any heavily mixed-species neighborhoods."

"Well you couldn't have fucked this shit up any harder if you'd tried, now could you have?"

The Force Captain recognized the voice immediately as one of the more hardline Councilors riding aboard Nightwatch Two. Councilor Xaelus.

"With respect? Councilor? The retaliatory strikes Norris ordered after Hatchet was downed are part of the protocols *your* party passed last year in response to the JRSF's threat to fire on Military Police units involved in the suppression of a riot, and---"

A loud tone sounded from the ceiling, cutting off the remainder of the Captain's retort. A moment later a voice filtered up from somewhere in the bowels of the jet's communications and telemetry room.

"Incoming priority transmission from JRSF Centcom on San Cristobal. It is marked 'time sensitive urgent' and bears authenticator keys for multiple JRSF senior staff, as well as the official public key signature of the Gryphon Kingdoms."

Silence fell for several heartbeats. Everyone knew what the addition of the Gryphon Kingdoms' ambassadorial digital public key signature meant. If the message wasn't a declaration of war, it would be the next worst thing.

An Councilor towards the middle of the table, Andrea Miyagi, rose and gestured with her left hand.

"Display transmission, and link to the encrypted teleconference."

The Force Captain had no time to even form an objection.

"Aye ma'am. Decoding, patching, and displaying now."

After several tense seconds of waiting, the image of the official JRSF seal appeared on the screen, followed immediately by the scowling visage of a muscular russet and white female Gryphon in full JRSF combat gear, against the background of a command center.

"I am Paladin Seyal of clan Arrak'Tra, Lieutenant General representing the Gryphon Kingdoms on the JRSF command board, and I have been appointed to deliver a message to the Earthgov Ruling Council. This is a formal declaration of intent, with demands. If any Earthgov Military or Police units take any punitive action, no matter how small, against any Human or Equestrian, whether military or civilian, regardless of citizenship; Then we will not hesitate to fire our remaining two gigaton antimatter warhead directly into GMCC at Serranilla Bank, with simultaneous first-strikes from JRSF naval assets against all remaining Earthgov military and government assets, including all strategic warhead launch points, and the Nightwatch Command Planes. This will be followed by a declaration of unbounded warfare from the Gryphon Kingdoms and all our allies against the Earthgov, and all its Military and Police forces."

The increase in breathing rates for the room was audible. The Force Captain wondered, genuinely, if several of the older Councilors were about to experience serious medical events.

She didn't blame them. It was just a hair shy of every worst case nightmare scenario that the military and the Council had gamed out with AI, and whispered about behind closed doors since the day non-Pony Equestrians had first made contact.

Seyal's message continued without pause.

"You will place all Earthgov military assets into Defense Condition three. You will submit to the presence of armed JRSF liaisons to be physically present in the GMCC at all times. You will disconnect and permanently disable the 'Dead Hand' system. You will turn over control of the SatVision network to the Genesist Collective to act as neutral arbiters of its further use. You will stand down the Military Police force from all areas within twenty square kilometers of any Conversion Bureau, and allow the JRSF and ConSec to assume full protective duties for Conversion Bureaus unopposed in their exclusion zones. You will arrest and strip of all command authority General Anna Norris, and turn her over to the JRSF immediately. You will bring your selection of representatives of the Council, including at least five Councillors, and the acting heads of the GMCC, to Lucapa Facility in ten hours for negotiations of further terms, arbitrated by the Genesist Collective and representatives of the Equestrian Nation."

With each new stipulation, it was as if a hammer had slammed into the chest of every Councilor in the room. Each reacted in their own unique way, but the Force Captain noted that none remained without some display of emotion, often mixed, and universally accompanied by an ashen pallor that betrayed a reflexive panic response.

Begin threatened by a predator tended to do that to a prey species, the Captain reflected sourly. Doubly so when they wielded strategic weapons that could poke holes in planets.

"If you fail to accede to even a single one of these demands within ten hours, but no violent actions are taken by your forces, then precision railgun strikes will commence against all Strategic arsenal launch points, and all Earthgov Air Force airbases, to be followed by Strategic Antimatter detonation on GMCC if unconditional surrender is not received thereafter."

Steep terms. The rebel forces, for that was what they were in the Captain's estimation, were deadly serious. No hint of bluff. And they had already fully demonstrated their resolve once, inflicting a deep and still bleeding wound in the process.

The hits just continued to fall, no one in either Nightwatch Purgatory, nor any of the networked bunkers, having time to compose anything like a cogent verbal response as Seyal barked out words with perfect elocution, and utterly terrifying disposition.

"This message has been formally prepared and signed by the JRSF executive officer board, a duly appointed representative of the Gryphon Kingdoms with full Crown authority, the official ambassador of the Equestrian Nation to the Genesist Collective, and Councilor Janet Martins of the Genesist Collective."

Well shit. That meant there would be precious little chance to drive any kind of wedge between their potential enemies. They were already acting more or less as a collective whole. Perhaps it was the true nightmare scenario after all.

"We are tracking both Nightwatch Command Planes via the Shenzhou's sensors. If you do not acknowledge this message, or if you take any evasive actions to break our sensor lock, we will strike both Command Planes with over the horizon railgun fire. You have fifteen minutes to reply. End Transmission."

A series of numbers, easily parsed as latitudes and longitudes, blinked up after Seyal's visage had disappeared. With a silent internal groan, the Force Captain recognized them as the live pinpoint positions of both Nightwatch planes.

And a time limit to top it all off. That was very clever in the Force Captain's opinion; Leave no room for anything but decisive swift action, but make the cost of any action besides a decisive and swift capitulation horrifying almost beyond measure.

Textbook 'decapitation and seizure of primacy' strike. The Force Captain idly wondered if Gryphons had ever studied WMD warfare theory and game theory, knowing the answer already deep in the pit of her stomach as a poisoned silence hung over the Purgatory chamber.

The silence did not last. The Captain winced at the sheer volume of the shouting as two dozen Councilors and half as many again of her fellow Officers all tried to speak at once, all at high volume, equal parts outrage and panic apparent in their voices.

"REMAIN CALM, ONE AT A TIME!"

The Force Captain prefixed the words with the shrillest whistle she could muster, which was sufficient enough to make the closest Councilors wince and cover their ears.

At last silence fell, and remained stable.

She waited for three beats, then tapped her earpiece.

"Nightwatch One Actual, this is Force Captain Sommers. Place the vehicle in a wide-turn holding pattern. Disarm all active countermeasures, and make no sudden maneuvers of any kind. Relay same orders to Nightwatch Two. Acknowledge."

The pause before the man's voice came back was just long enough to put some tension in Sommers' shoulders.

"Yes sir, acknowledged. Orders relayed to Nightwatch Two. Nightwatch Two Actual acknowledges."

More silence followed. Sommers gestured to her colleagues at the back of the room.

"Tactical analysis?"

A younger man, couldn't have been more than nineteen, stepped forward, nervously running his hand through his short cropped hair.

"With respect; They can do it. And will. No question. We might get six or seven strategic weapons off of DSOBs in an all out exchange, of which about three quarters might hit stationary targets. We can also coordinate RAC strikes, inefficiently and slowly, but If we target military installations, we'll be at a disadvantage because their primary power is concentrated in the Navy, which can evade anything we throw at it. If we strike civilian targets..."

The lieutenant gulped, and an older woman, a Corporal with graying hair standing over his right shoulder finished his thought in deadpan tone.

"If we strike civilian targets, the Gryphons will kill us all."

Sommers raised one eyebrow, then turned her gaze first to the Councilors shown on the teleconference feed, then the ones in her own Purgatory chamber.

"It is the recommendation of this command that at this time we move to capitulate to their terms as-stated."

What other choice was there? The damn bird lions were a force to be reckoned with alone, and even when unarmed but for that with which they'd hatched attached to them. How much worse when backed by other Equestrian allies, with access to JRSF munitions and technology?

And an antimatter warhead still on the board?

That was a recipe for a short war indeed. Very bloody, on both sides to be sure, but very short. And not one Humanity would have even a zero point zero zero one percent chance to win as far as Sommers knew from the AI sims.

There might be substantially fewer Gryphons left at the end, but there would be no self-governed Humans, let alone any armed ones. Hardly any at all above the age of seventeen in the bleakest scenarios, where the Earthgov chose to inflict strategic bombardment on Gryphon civilian populations on Earth, and the Kingdoms responded by executing every single Human adult of fighting age and hale physical disposition who would not surrender, then converting all eligible younger Humans to their species, and the ineligible remainder to Equines.

Not so much the forced Conversions of the PER, as the pragmatic offering with a smile of the only way left out of Hell after a large percent of adult Humans on the planet were reduced to smears, and the land was scorched in radioactive fire.

The AI seemed to think very little of the likelihood for Human surrender at a large scale after the first strikes.

The lieutenant was right. They could do it. Every last bit of it was within their power. They'd almost done it once before to a species with a larger military than even Earthgov's, by numerics, and a roughly equally dangerous biology to their own.

But according to the files Sommers had read, while the Trolls had extracted a blood price for the war from the Gryphons, the Avians had in turn beaten the Trolls to within inches of extinction. Vergant on sparing only the children, were it not for hefty political intervention from Equestria proper.

They would do it again, if provoked sufficiently. And would not stop if strategic weapons had been used on civilian targets. No matter who begged, pleaded, groveled, threatened, or bargained.

And capitulation in the present did not mean wholesale surrender in the future. Plenty of options that spoke to the need to 'live to fight another day.' But Sommers knew the hardline Councilors, the HLF sympathizers in particular, would be a tough sell on that concept.

They wouldn't be thinking in future strategic terms, just in terms of present blood-lust for the four thousand dead, and the damage that Isaac Wrenn had inflicted, and the increasingly bold maneuvers of the JRSF against the Military Police.

They'd want to 'save face.'

As if her train of thought had been prophetic, Councilor Xaelus' voice thundered forth from the room's speakers.

"Capitulate? Force Captain if you suggest anything so moronic again I will have you relieved of duty and shot for treason. What we need now is a strategic deployment and strike plan that will---"

"No."

Though the word was quiet, it was also delivered so firmly, that it cut Xaelus off as if someone had stricken his windpipe.

Sommers' head whipped around to see who had spoken. A young first-term Councilor named Cam Lindstrom. His jaw was set like the bow of a ship, and nothing in his face betrayed anything besides a calm recognizance of the seriousness of the situation. Nothing except for the fire in his eyes.

He rose and straightened the hem of his modem gray sport coat before Xaelus could bluster out a reply, and continued speaking smoothly, with an incredibly natural, and preternaturally calm tone.

"For those of you who don't know me very well, I'm Cam Lindstrom; Bio-Technological Combine party. I want to make sure everyone in this room fully understands the seriousness of this situation. My party has, at my insistence, commissioned several independent studies to simulate the outcomes of war with any number of the Equestrian species."

He raised his hand to cut off any objections, even as several Councilors and Officers drew breath, injecting an explanation into the gap with practiced swiftness.

"Our methods were different from the military's. Instead of asking a Human-template AI to fight another Human-template AI, both loaded with dry technical specifications about the Equestrians' weapons, armor, histories and biology... We bought or commissioned AI patterned off of each and every Equestrian species that we could. And we loaded *them* up with all of those dry statistics, and had them OpFor sim against our best Human-template AI in over a hundred fifty thousand distinct scenario permutations with twenty million iterations. Each."

Lindstrom raised one eyebrow and held out his hands, gesturing expansively to first the Purgatory, then the teleconference screen.

"Would you like to know what happened? Councilors, we did not just lose, and lose in every single iteration of every single scenario. We lost in less than sixty five days. And that was in a best-for-us case simulation where we struck first with the entirety of the strategic arsenal against the JRSF, and all Equestrian potential military beachheads on Earth, and we gave our AI a handicap by way of theoretical strategic weapons that could strike into the barrier from orbit, in the vein of Thor."

Silence greeted Lindstrom's words. Panic rising again. But he was clearly a savvy individual, so he moved first to drive home the punch to the gut, slamming his fist firmly into the conference table with each word of the first sentence, then dropping to a lower, calmer register for the follow up.

"Nine weeks Councilors; That is all it took for them to reduce our military to zero, AFTER we used the hypothetical strategic arsenal of your General's wildest dreams on them in a fantasy best-case opening blitz! I can't even get approval for a damn travel expense in nine weeks. They would have us strung out by our colons already if they really wanted to. The fact that they didn't retaliate by immediately wiping us out is the *good* news. They do not want to hurt us. We have a chance to go on living, and comfortably at that. We should respond *constructively...*"

Cam glanced around at each occupant of the room in turn, finally ending with Xaelus' image on the screen.

"...Or we might as well start picking out our preferred means of suicide. Me, personally, I'd like to die by jumping out of the plane's rear hatch. I've always wondered what flying was like. Perhaps I can assist some of you on your own ways first? I'm sure I could work out how to smother someone with a bunk pillow?"

Sommers found herself deeply impressed. In less than a minute the most junior Councilor in the room had seized the reins of the conversation in an absolutely inescapable grip, all while coming off as completely affable, and exceedingly competent.

Lindstrom nodded once sharply into the silence before speaking again, injecting just the right amount of warmth into his hypnotic tone.

"No takers? Good. Now that mass unconstructive self fuckery is officially off the table, why don't we see to these mostly very sensible arrangements of Seyal's? If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate living to see breakfast, terrible galley food on this bird notwithstanding."

Fyrenn

One second there was nothing, and the next she was there. I watched in no small amount of fascination, time slowing to a crawl by reflex, as the pinprick of white-hot light expanded out into a violet and black singularity, then just as quickly snapped into a familiar Equinid shape, finally vanishing in a wreath of dull tendrils with a 'WHUMP' sound.

Veritas looked exactly as she had the last time I'd seen her. At least, when she'd been corporeal, before she morphed into a star filled energy cloud and wisely ran as far as she could from what she had done.

Suddenly it all made a sick kind of sense. The Wisp ship had arrived when we had expected an assault from the PER. The Diamond Dog troopers were a signature of their assaults, and the Wisps had come with Trolls to back them in force. Veritas was certainly no kind of Pony I'd ever seen, and she had a frightening frequency to her appearances in my nightmares, and we'd all seen her transform into some kind of energy being right before our eyes.

I'd suspected there was a connection for a long time. But at last, all the pieces clicked. Veritas was a Wisp. And the Wisps had funded and led the PER... But to what end? I had the sickening threads of an idea, but was too preoccupied with the forthcoming battle to begin tying them together in any meaningful way.

Since I had no ranged weapon to-claw, carbine and pistol long since expended, I settled for raising my sword into a defensive position, and spreading my wings to block access to Skye. In an instant Neyla had taken a similar defensive stance.

For her part, slower though her reaction was, Aston wisely placed herself directly over Skye, deploying heavy shield panels from each forearm to provide a final barrier to assault.

Veritas' voice rang out across the compartment. Cold. Frigid. Like the sucking darkness of deep space, but as a sound.

"I might've known. When they told me you were here, I had a feeling this might require a personal touch."

Rage sang through my sinews like voltage over a high tension wire. I levelled my sword directly at the foul thing's skull, and grated out every word of my reply with as much cold, calm, directed hatred as I could pour into them.

"You killed Robert. You attacked New York. You've tried to destroy Genesis. Your choices made it personal. And you might very soon regret that you did. I warned you I would find you. And end you. And now you're here..."

Beside me, Neyla grinned. And hissed. A predatory sound, and expression, that almost frightened me, and would have been enough to melt even the most courageous Human or Pony into a puddle of weeping begging flesh. The way she finished my thought for me was the cherry on top.

"Big. Mistake."

Skye glanced over her shoulder briefly, and raised one eyebrow.

"Is that bitch-ass purple fuckstick back? I always wondered if she might be a Wisp. You want me to crush her like a bug for you? The way I did the others? I'm almost finished over here, it'd be no trouble. At all."

I allowed only a tenth second to lock eyes with Skye before returning my gaze to Veritas. The Wisp seemed to appreciate Skye's tone, and presence least of all. Canny as she was, she'd probably realized just how much of a threat Skye was.

Veritas' reply was underscored by a dramatic transformation. It began in her hooves, and swept up across her withers and neck, ending in her head, horn, tail, mane, and an ethereal set of wings as she tripled in size. Her coat dropped to a shade of purple so deep it might as well have been black. Her eyes changed to fiery purple flames dancing around teal, almost reptilian slits, more like Changeling eyes than Pony.

"I am no mere Wisp. I am The Nightmare; Queen of all Dispossessed, and ruler of the void. Rightful inheritor of all that our forerunners stole from us. And for your insolence, little foal? I will have you as a host for my most trusted lieutenant. Once I have finished breaking you to my satisfaction, by making you watch everyone else in this room perish. Slowly."

The bright pinpricks of sparkle in her mane shifted into something resembling actual stars against a deep black field so inky and dark, that it made it easier by contrast to pick out the subtle purple still in her fur. As a final touch, a dark crystalline black armored peytral and hoof guards blinked into existence with the sound of rock snapping against metal.

Oh. *Fuck.*

As soon as that intense thought cleared from the front of my mind it was instantly followed by the realization that perhaps it was we who had made the big, very big, mistake.

The not-quite-Alicorn thing in front of me was most definitely not just some small ghostly thing riding along in the brain of a simple Unicorn. It was something that radiated menace, and power, a hate for life, and hunger, just as intensely as Celestia or Luna radiated all the opposite emotions and intentions.

I moved my sword slowly back to a more defensive posture, and murmured over my shoulder to Skye.

"Keep working. We'll handle this. Join us when you're done. Aston? Stay with Skye."

Veritas... The Nightmare... Began to slowly pace back and forth, and as Neyla and I stepped forward slightly, and apart, into a defensive spread. Her chuckle was almost as unnerving as the words that came after it.

"I have waited a long time for this. For revenge on your kind, especially for their outsized part in the first two losses. But as the forerunners still like to say; The third time is the charm."

If she meant Humans when she said forerunners... I had to drop the tantalizing train of thought almost instantly as she fired something that looked like a tear in the very fabric of the universe at a point right between my eyes.

Pulling into the tightest flip I could manage at the fastest rate I could manage, it was barely enough to reduce what would have been a straight shot to a graze against my left side. The bolt sheared a layer off one of the heavier armor plates just by the lightest touch of passage, causing the weak remainder of the area's defensive matrix to flicker before it re-solidified in a thinner depleted layer.

She was fast. Very fast.

And powerful.

But it occurred to me in that moment that she had run from us during the battle in the PER tower. That meant she didn't fancy her odds against Kephic, Varan, Neyla, Skye and I in a confined space. At least, not in the depleted magic environment of Earth.

Who could say what frightening things she'd be capable of in Equestria? I knew that while moving a Thor rod just a hair had nearly cost Celestia her life in Earth's rarefied Thaumatic environment, Luna had erased one from existence, and dumped all of its energy right out of reality, and all it had cost her were a few days' recovery.

We were two Gryphons short of that original compliment, but Aston had power armor, as we all did, and a few shots left in her rifle. And Skye's magic combined with the particle pulses seemed to be able to hurt the Wisps. Badly.

If we could stay alive long enough for Skye and Aston to join the battle, we stood a chance.

I flicked my eyes left to Neyla, and in a microsecond the train of thought passed from me to her, and she nodded once sharply. In the next microsecond, the beginnings of a plan flashed across her eyes, the tips of her ears, and the cant of her stance.

Don't ask me to explain how I knew. But I knew.

So I did the stupidest thing I could imagine, because she needed an opening.

I charged the Nightmare head-on.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

For the second time in only a few short days, I found myself staring at dead Changeling corpses on a table. And for the second time, I felt a deep sadness.

They were spread out on two old wooden tables in a commandeered basement room attached to the Night-Guard barracks. A suitable place to conduct a post-mortem away from the eyes of any, but those that could stomach it, and whose expertise was needed.

They weren't mine. They weren't my Drones. I wasn't responsible for them.

They weren't even from my Hive, from the time before my rule; A close examination of their thaumatic signature had answered that question quite swiftly. Rather they seemed to have been directly dispatched by OverQueen Chrysalis herself from the Central Nexus.

But I pitied them deeply. Wished their deaths hadn't been necessary. That they'd been given the same chance I had.

And yet I knew there had been no other way. Never realistically could have been any alternative.

In most stringent technical terms, a round from a Gryphon 'Thunderblade' had been the final cause of death in both cases. Cold comfort. The one bearing savage gashes from my hoofblades would have most certainly died whether or not Kephic had shot him.

I made a strong mental note, dispatched to my second and third in command in the same breath, to begin looking at ways of morphing multi-layered armor structures that would be more resistant to such weapons. And to begin a study as soon as feasible of the utility of mixing manufactured crystal or alloy plates with our own morphic armor for maximum efficiency.

I trusted the Gryphons with my life. Not only did I have no other choice, but I'd seen and experienced enough that even if I did have a choice, I would have chosen to trust them without hesitation or regret.

But technology spreads nearly as fast as rumors. How long before Diamond Dogs, or Yaks, or Minotaurs were armed with similarly potent devices? Or even members of Chrysalis' own forces? That last thought made me shudder.

I could see why Celestia had made the expression she did when she'd seen the guns for the first time.

I was amazed she hadn't said something acerbic to Sildinar then and there. Demanded perhaps that he pack them up and get them out of her city.

But she was too busy I suppose, trying to quell a panic. A balcony address to her subjects had done wonders. She'd even alluded to me as one of her defenders. Already cannily laying the political groundwork for what was to come.

And I was not relishing that which was to come for me, far more imminently.

Stan noticed my discomfort. Somehow he seemed to have reached a point where he knew my feelings with accuracy approaching that of any Changeling linked directly to me. He nibbled softly at the right side of my neck. I didn't pull away. I needed something to ground me before I did what needed to be done.

"I'm sorry. Not for him, he was an ass. But for you."

I sighed, and turned to nuzzle Stan, muzzle to muzzle, keeping my response in the same low tone that denoted a private conversation.

Luna, Kephic, Varan, Sildinar, and Shining Armor were all present. Each made their own attempt to look busy, or in some way otherwise occupied as I spoke.

"They were doing what they were indoctrinated to do from spawn. They never knew any other life. Or any kind of choice."

Stan nodded, and crooked his neck around mine, whispering in my ear as he did so.

"But if either of 'em had killed you, then no one else might get to know that freedom."

I brushed my neck against his, savoring the moment for a long breath. Close contact for exclusive and individuated love was a concept completely alien to life in Chrysalis' Hives.

And for a Changeling, directed love is a potent thing. All the more when it is inexplicably directed right at you in spite of what you are. I'd feebly tried to describe it to him once. A melange of color and scent and taste metaphors to try and pin down something so exquisite that it was almost painful.

So exquisite that I rationed our moments of contact harshly.

I didn't know if Stan fully understood, but I think he understood just well enough.

The truth was that it was extraordinarily hard not to spend every waking moment by his side, and half of those with our lips locked. And that would be a terrible distraction at a time in my life when I most needed clarity and perspicacity.

I rationed our affection both so that I had a future for myself to work towards, not just goals on behalf of others... And because if I gave in completely, it would be like giving a dehydrated and dying Pony water.

How could you ever ask them to stop after tasting something so sweet as fresh, cool, clear water in a desert?

"Thank you."

With the whispered response in his ear, I pulled away, and set to preparing my magic. A cold, sharp, unfeeling, horrifying thing of a spell. Like a poised scalpel above a helpless eyeball. Albeit a dead one in this case.

It still felt so wrong. After so much time spent free of the probing of my mind by others, to inflict it once more, even if the victim was dead already, and the infliction would save future lives.

Get it over with. Plunge the scalpel in. Hesitation only makes it worse.

I reached out with a streamer of faint amber magic, and touched the first infiltrator's horn.

It took less time than a single heartbeat to know that something was very wrong. Considerably longer to figure out precisely what.

Memories flooded into my mind's eye. The last moments of life. A flash of hoofblades. The shock of a passing blur of pink and teal. The crack of a gunshot and a thousandth of a second of white light.

Whispered plans in the castle hallways. The journey to Canterlot from the Central Nexus...

But with each memory, a second layer. As if every event had been experienced twice each time... Once with a detached, yet firm and overriding malicious agency. A red-tinged blue haze that was frighteningly familiar.

And then once again with the more familiar bitter chitinous flavor of a standard Drone, tained sharply by the harsh notes of fear. Even despair.

I severed the link, gasping for air. All eyes in the room were instantly drawn to me. Stan placed one wing comfortingly over my back, a somewhat comical gesture considering our height differences. At the time any amusement was totally lost on me.

I raised my gaze and locked eyes with Luna. I could see my words put a chill in her veins even as I uttered them aloud.

"This infiltrator was being possessed by a Wisp. It had been for some time."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

From an external perspective, the fight must have looked like the most terrifying, wondrous, mythic thing a Human could have imagined for a mural. Or maybe a comic book page.

Neyla's initial plan of engagement had gotten us this far; Dancing in and out of Nightmare's strike zones, hammering her with fast strikes and then vanishing in a rhythmic dance that was almost like a musical production in its fluidity.

The Nightmare reared, striking out with both hooves even as my sword came across the strike just in time to deflect it. Neyla seized the brief opening, and dropped from the apex of her wing assisted jump, firing her armor thrusters as she forced the tips of both her sword blades down into Veritas' back.

The 'CLANG' of the basalt hoof-guards against my blade was so intense that it sent pulses down through the blade, my bones, and into the deck plating sufficient to rattle the whole room. Sparks flew everywhere. The impact was matched a tenth second later by the brilliant flare of magic as a microsecond miniature shield stopped one of Neyla's blades, and reduced the trajectory of the second to a glancing hit.

But it was a hit all the same, our first in almost twenty seconds of whirlwind engagement. Though the Nightmare was quick, and clearly deadly, we'd opted to do our best to stick to melee combat. Not just because we lacked ranged weapons, but also because it made it much harder for the Nightmare to hit us with any of her weaponized spells.

Veritas tried to fire off one of those spatial tears again, retribution for Neyla's strike, but the Gryphoness was just slightly faster, sticking a three point hero-landing on Veritas' left side, and bringing up her off-claw sword to deflect the blast.

The tear ricocheted off the alloy of the blade, and punched a three foot hole in the far wall, continuing out into the corridor, and then the void space between decks.

As Veritas turned to make her failed strike, I noted that the blast had laid a deep carbon score into Neyla's blade. But I also saw that Neyla's other blade had indeed drawn blood. A black viscous substance that glistened with points of light, like little chips of mica.

If it bleeds, you can kill it. A longstanding Special Forces rule of combat.

Aston, God bless her timing, must have seen and thought the same, because she chose that exact moment to open up with her carbine. Three searingly bright blue bolts of particle energy. Nightmare was forced to raise three rather significant-energy-expenditure shields to stop them peppering her head and neck.

Barely sparing a picosecond to plan it out, I seized on the dual distraction of Neyla's hit, Nightmare's subsequent miss, and Aston's follow-through to launch my most reckless attack.

With a screech, half lion roar, half eagle keen, and all war-cry, I pushed off the deck, flapped my wings hard, and fired my suit thrusters, first forward and then down. On the down-stroke, I beat both wings against the side of Veritas' head, and I struck at her shoulder with the downward force of the sword.

The blade pierced armor, then flesh, and then with an incredibly satisfying crunch, bone, sinking all the way in up to the hilt patterned after Skye's own cutie mark.

What happened after took place in a span of less than one quarter of a single second.

A cry of rage, and pain, in equal measure. The sound was so loud that the bone plates inside my ears designed to protect against overpressure closed reflexively. A horrifying multi-tonal note that seemed to come from a thousand voices all at once.

At the same time a blast of magic in all directions, so powerful that I had to release my grip on my sword, or risk losing my foreleg. I dimly noticed Neyla being thrown against the chamber's ceiling, then righting herself shakily once the pulse had passed.

For my part, I barely managed to fire my armor thrusters enough to turn what would have been a spine cracking impact with the transparisteel wall of the matter fuel chamber into a beak-jarring impact more equivalent to being shoved by Brelik in a training session.

As I came to rest, I watched Nightmare's enraged and pained expression morph into a sneer that was all of the former, and none of the latter. She glowered, and an immensely powerful spellweave flew into existence around her horn.

With a 'CRACK' as loud as thunder that rattled the entire deck, I watched the majority of my sword wink out of existence from its place still lodged in Veritas' shoulder, as if struck by lightning. A feat against the Gryphic alloy that not even Genesist particle weapons could remotely replicate.

The singed and cracked hilt fell to the deck with a mournful clang of metal on metal.

How I wished in that moment for my short dirks. Tucked safely into their slots in my Gryphic armor, and painfully far out of reach.

As if in response to the thought, Neyla slid one of her own blades across the deck, passing it between the space of Nightmare's hooves at blinding speed. I snagged the weapon, and rolled forward into a fresh attack maneuver.

Ignoring the assault, as well as Neyla's supporting feint, Veritas instead did the one thing I truly feared.

She fired a searing and massive bolt of energy directly at Skye.

Aston was slow by Gryphon standards, as any Human would be, but in Earthly terms she was very quick of reflexes. And she had the advantage of only needing to take a very small half-step.

Knowing exactly what she was doing, to my horror, with no time for anyone else to offer any added defense, or assistance, she took a firm half-step to her left, placing the entire armored bulk of her body between the bolt, and Skye.

I watched in a frigid, hollow mix of anger, pain, and fear as the spatial rip ate through her frontal armor like a railgun round through a thin steel plate, and travelled right through her sternum. Mercifully the maneuver was not in vain, and the rear plating of the armor sapped the last of the bolt's energy, the rest having been spent on the frontal armor, bone, and flesh.

Every motion in the room came to a halt. A whole heartbeat passed, during which Aston glanced down at the through-and-through hole in her body, then up at me.

Veritas leered triumphantly. A smile that lent me all the impetus I needed.

With no care for myself in the moment, I charged, body slamming the not-quite-Alicorn in a move that was so stupid, and so brutal, that it actually got the better of her. I sank my left talons into the flesh of her neck, ignoring the horrific frigid cold that overtook them, so intense that it almost felt like a burning white-hot lump of lead had been drizzled onto them.

As Veritas screamed in pain again, I raked my talons deep into the sinews of her neck, all the while beating against her skull with my wing joints, like an angry swan let off the chain, and savaging her side with Neyla's sword using both front and back blades alike.

The creature's black ichor began to flow freely, drenching us both in frosty acidic gunk that hurt like the devil. Neyla struck next, embedding her own blade up to its hilt in Vertas' other side again. And again. And again.

And then Skye stuck.

The sizzling teal and sky blue interweaved bolt came out of nowhere, like thunder on a clear day, slamming into Nightmare's skull with a force that dragged all three of us backwards several steps.

Another cry, but this time one in a voice I only half recognized. It sounded like Veritas, but not quite. And there was no hint of anything like the eerie chorus of the Wisp. for a tenth of a second, Veritas' eyes flashed to the brink pink round pupiled orbs of a Pony.

A shadowy apparition, part starfield, part void of pure evil, flicked into existence just to the side of Veritas' head, before snapping back. The slit teal eyes wreathed in fire returned. But there was something new behind them.

Real, true fear.

Gotcha now you monster.

I threw my whole weight, and every last erg of the suit's thruster power into one final shoulder-slam, forcing the stunned Nightmare first into the far wall with a loud 'CRACK' and then down onto the deck.

She glowered up at me as I raised Neyla's sword, firing off a shockingly complex spellweave in an incredibly short time, somewhere over my shoulder in the direction of the antimatter, before squeezing out a shield to deflect my strike.

As the blade connected, I watched one final spell form over her horn, words hissing out from between clenched teeth as she began to vanish away into a familiar looking microsingularity.

"Die. Cursed Champion of Seldar. In fire."

I staggered back as the shockwave of air filling the recently vacated space resonated in my chest, collapsing to the deck as my adrenaline surge began to slow. The pain of the offensive and defensive wounds that Nightmare, and the Wisps that had come before, had inflicted on me began to return in force.

I could smell a fair bit of my own blood in my feathers.

I turned my head to see Neyla had already ripped the emergency scabbie foam pack from Aston's leg hardpoint, and began to spray the substance with abandon into her gaping wound.

Skye was preoccupied with the torpedo, and the antimatter bottle again, now wreathed, I realized with rising panic, in twin halos of dark black and purple magic.

Skye's next words did nothing to disabuse me of my fear.

"Oh. We are *so* dead."

Chapter 17

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

Kephic

My mind raced ahead to dozens on dozens of possible explanations. Tactical reasoning. Trying to get inside the enemy's twisted, monstrous heads.

Even as Shining Armor tried to distill it all for Celestia, each new word adding to the deathly pall hanging over her study, I replayed the previous conversation with IJ over and over in my head.

How could the Wisps possess Changelings? Even if their biology was compatible, what about the Hive mind? Apparently whatever the thing had done, it had been not dissimilar to the trick Skye had used to feed false patterns back into the network to cover for itself.

Was the second infiltrator possessed? No, just the one.

Why didn't we see the Wisp depart when the infected Changeling died? Apparently the Wisp's own memory imprint of the moment of death had also persisted in the Infiltrator's mind. It had chosen to die rather than escape, in hopes of remaining undiscovered.

I reflected with an internal half smile that had we not had a Changeling, and a remarkably skilled one at that, on our own side, we would never have known.

And then the most pressing question for us all. One none of us seemed to be able to answer.

Why?

Of course all the basic reasons had been gone over time, and time again. It was Luna who had voiced what Varan and I already knew, and most likely IJ as well. At a bare minimum the point of the infiltrators' actions had been to shatter the foundation of a burgeoning reformed Changeling/Equestrian alliance.

But it seemed redundant. Why infest and possess a being who would have likely done exactly what you drove it to do in the first place? What was the point?

I watched as Luna sat impassively beside her sister, doing her very best to hide the outward signs of her own dark inner thought spirals.

I could only catch the barest hint. I expected Varan could too. Celestia almost certainly, she knew her sister as the Sun knows the Heavens.

Luna was holding on to something she meant to say, but was struggling to find the right words to say it.

As Shining's summary reached its end, sure enough, Celestia turned and fixed her sister with a questioning gaze. Apparently she didn't even need to vocalize the question.

Luna bowed her head, then nodded slowly. Her voice was steady, but dour. Tired too. And perhaps just a hint... Defeated? No... Not defeated. Saddened.

"Inside Joke shared with me the contents of the Wisp's memories, at least as far back as its infestation of the infiltrator Drone. We have no access to anything beyond that..."

That ability was news to me. Apparently Alicorns' ability to do more with magic than Unicorns extended to a great many useful spells and abilities.

"...As I feared, these Wisps are indeed the servants of the Nightmare. More than that, they are her very kith and kind. The resonance is... Intimately familiar to me."

Finally I understood. Luna's thousand year exile was not an oft discussed topic outside the Equestrian nation itself. And even within it, her people's love for her, as well as their twisting of the facts into legend and myth, meant that it was only ever talked over in hushed tones on rare occasions.

The Nightmare was the leader of the Wisps. The very same Nightmare that had once possessed Luna and made her into the Nightmare Moon entity. Small wonder her sister had imprisoned her... If she had power over an army of Wisps, the consequences for her being bonded to an Alicorn, and roaming free...

I shivered involuntarily at the unwanted mental image.

But something about it tickled the edge of another memory, like a feather against my side.

I didn't want to speak. Didn't want to make her replay the old traumas any more than she already had. But I had to know. The tickle had grown into a road. An overwhelming need to know. To hear her dismiss my theory, so that I'd be able to sleep well that night.

I cleared my throat, and reshuffled my wings nervously.

"Princess... Please forgive my asking. But I need clarification, and I would not raise the issue unless it was of serious importance..."

Luna dipped her head smoothly in assent, locking eyes directly with me. At the subtle encouragement, I forged ahead with less recrimination, but no greater enthusiasm. How I hoped I was wrong.

"My understanding of the events you are referencing are that they ended in your being freed from this... Nightmare, by the Elements of Harmony. In that process... Do you know... Was the Nightmare destroyed... Or did it live on?"

My words brought about a heavy silence. I could see Stan, Varan, Shining, and IJ fiercely turning wheels in their own heads, picking up on the threads of my idea and following them as far as each could.

Varan was the only other one in the room who had been exposed to the events that had precipitated the question. I wished Fyrenn, Skye, and Neyla were there too. They'd seen it. They would have valuable opinions and recollections.

Luna shook her head slowly, and from her muzzle came the words I had most feared.

"I long believed... Hoped... That it was destroyed. But dark have been my dreams of late. I have tasted her foulness nipping at the edges of my mind, and that alone enough to have perhaps ruined us all. No... Good Gryphon... I believe that the Nightmare lives."

I nodded slowly, and let the breath out of my lungs in a long, drawn out hiss. I didn't want to press the new questions that some of the ambiguity in her statement had raised. I wanted to first follow my thought-thread to its bitter end.

I raised a claw, and inclined my head as I spun back the memory behind my eyes, with the usual perfect clarity of the avian mind. As it played out, I spoke, primarily directing my words at Luna.

"You doubtless know of what happened in New York three years ago. You keep well abreast of Human affairs, as most of us do."

She inclined her head, tone unreadably flat in response.

"We do."

I inhaled again, and continued with growing confidence. And concern.

"At the end of the battle, we witnessed something. Myself, Varan. Fyrenn. Neyla. Skye. Something that we could never explain, and which was later more or less stricken from the official reports."

Varan interjected with a single deadpan word, reaching the conclusion himself.

"Veritas."

I absently stropped my right thumb talon against the underside of my beak, and sighed.

"Yes. Veritas. A being who exhibited the ability to reach out and seize hold of a mind... Who vanished before our eyes... Not quite like a Wisp, but similar in many ways..."

Luna stiffened, and leaned forward. As silence reigned, she finally rose, and moved to stand directly opposite me, locking eyes in a disconcerting manner. Her words came out almost as if they were chips of ice forced between her teeth.

"Describe it."

The hackles on the back of my neck rose, and my ears flattened as I did what she asked.

"She morphed in an instant, as if vaporized. Into a cloud of stars and blackness, as if the night sky itself were made into a physical thing. And then she flew out of the tower... And vanished without a trace."

Even though silence fell yet again, Luna's expression gave me my answer. The way her jaw set, and her wings flared unconsciously. The loathing, both for herself, and for that perhaps ancient entity both dancing behind her eyes.

Finally she voiced what we were all thinking.

"This 'Veritas.' I believe she is no mere Unicorn. The Nightmare has returned."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 9th, Gregorian Calendar

Alyra

I stiffened as I saw the readings flash across my panel, the report coming out of my beak before the thoughts were even fully formed. My talons danced across the controls. I'd had more than enough time to stare blankly at them to get an idea how they worked.

Optical lock acquired. The older Gryphoness at helm was already turning us to keep the enemy lined up with my primary emitters. Bless her and her clan a thousand times over.

"It's moving!! Turning to our port, one four six relative, two nine five true, accelerating. There's an energy buildup. They're trying to get away. Probably getting ready to jump."

I wasn't too sure what that meant. That Mom and Dad, and Skye, and Laura had failed... No. Couldn't let that idea stick. It had to be that they'd won, and the enemy was running away.

But then why haven't we heard from them.

I crushed the thought like a discarded tin can. There's always hope. Or we wouldn't still be breathing. Every breath a gift. Every gift to be used for the greatest good. That's what Sonya had taught me. And Dad. And Mom.

Hutch shared a quick glance with Martins. She caught on quick, and no one had to say a thing. She tilted her head up and spoke in sharp, swift words.

"Computer, unlock particle weapons. Recognize Martins, authorization Pi one one three eight."

I didn't even wait for the last note of the confirmation tone, stabbing one talon so hard into the 'FIRE ALL' control that it scratched the ruggedized coating of the touchscreen.

"FIRING FOR EFFECT!"

The Wisp ship had cleared the Lucapa perimeter fence already. I didn't need to be subtle.

A dozen bright blue beams streaked out like fire from an automatic weapon, peppering the ugly dark mineral shape ahead of us, causing its energy shielding to flare violently.

Hutch slammed his hand into the Captain's railing, a manic grin plastered all over his face, mirroring the one I wore.

"Hit them again! Continuous maximum yield fire, burn out the collimators if you have to! Cue up the HASP!"

As I began to enter the next command sequence, and re-adjust my optical locks, Hutch flicked a switch on his console, connecting him to the JRSF fighters and bombers that were just cresting the horizon.

"Menace One-Five, Firebrand One-Five; This is Shenzhou. Release all weapons on every target you can find! My taccon is hitting the soft spots, just follow the lady's lances in! Maintain minimum safe escape distance. Weapons free, weapons free!!"

"Shenzhou Actual, Firebrand lead Airstream, acknowledged. Deploying heavy anti-armor!"

"Shenzhou, Menace lead Werewolf, acknowledged. Menace Squadron; Weapons free."

My grin widened as the Shenzhou's beams whipped out and sliced into the areas of the Wisp ship that I guessed were the most vulnerable. A few seconds later bright streaks of yellow rail saw fire followed through.

The missiles arrived only a couple seconds later, producing huge fireballs that sent great big chunks of crystal flying off the edges of the enemy ship. I watched their power curved tank like a stone dropped from a ledge.

"Got em! Their teleport drive looks like it just went to pieces! HASP ready! Firing third particle salvo!"

And then my weapons just stopped working.

Skye

Oh bad. So bad. So very bad.

I was making about the sort of progress with whatever The Nightmare had done, as a drunk first year grad student on a capstone semester programming test she didn't study one lick for. Definitely not a feeling I know from experience. Nope. Not at all.

I could tell two things for sure.

Number one, she had done something that was going to blow up the ship, using the antimatter, and it was going to be exactly as big a fireball as we all feared.

And two?

We had about thirty seconds left.

On a problem I conservatively guessed I'd need eleven minutes to untangle.

Oh sweet Celestia, please please don't let it end this way. Not now. Not like this.

My breathing began to increase, rapidly, as hyperventilation set in as a precursor to all out panic. I began to lose what little complex spellweave I had finally managed to form. I was so, so tired.

And the sound of Fyrenn and Neyla trying to keep Aston alive, and slowly losing, was not helping.

"Stay with us Laura, goddammit. Stay awake!"

I winced. She'd taken that blast for me. So I could save us all. And I was going to fail. That was the thing that hurt most of all. The thing that pushed me over the edge.

STUPID, STUPID FILLY! You're in WAY over your horn. What did you THINK was going to happen?

I slammed one hoof against the deck in frustration, the words finally spilling out of me even as the tears started.

"Guys?! I can't do this! We've only got about twenty five seconds!"

A moment of silence passed. Fyrenn rose, and made his way over. I grit my teeth inside my muzzle, dreading some sort of pep talk, or panicked tirade. Or worse, cold calculated anger.

When he snagged me in his wings and pulled me close under his chin, I didn't do a thing to resist. The smell of warm feathers far overpowered the faint nasty traces of Veritas' innards that were still splattered on his sides.

It was such a nice smell. I had no idea for the life of me why so many Ponies thought so poorly of these big lovable feather dusters.

He just crooked his neck around mine, and sighed deeply as he whispered in my ear.

"You are the sister I never had. A day with you in my life would have been a gift greater than any physical thing, or small victory in battle. You've outfought legends in your time. And I am honored to have known you."

Sobs began to wrack my body. I was ashamed to think of just how much ugly crying I was doing, wrapped up in the forelegs, wings, and neck of a vicious predator... Who was one of the closest things I had to real family.

The beat of his heart was amazingly calm, and deeply reassuring.

I dimly heard him speak to Neyla as he raised his head again.

"I love you."

The words extracted another wracking sob, mixed with a forlorn laugh. I glared up at the big feathery oaf with tear soaked eyes, vision blurred.

"You wait till right fucking now to tell her you brainless clod? And I bet I don't even get to watch you snog. Because you won't, will you? Not even when you're about to die?"

He barked out a harsh laugh, and then reached for Aston's hand, clutching it hard in his right claw. I watched as her fingers weakly folded over his claws.

Neyla strode over silently, and put her forehead against Fyrenn's, wrapping us both in her wings before speaking just four words.

"And I love you."

Three heaving breaths passed for me. I thought about Stan. Kephic. Varan. And my former herd. Wished I could have said a proper goodbye. Spared no thought whatsoever for my biologicals, except to wish I could teleport the antimatter right on top of their bigoted stuck up no good blue-blooded noble heads---

Holy matterbucking quantum shit on a popsicle stick.

Teleport.

And then I had it. A way out of the jaws of death.

I wriggled out from under the embrace, and sucked in a huge breath. The familiar energy began to thread around my horn at breakneck pace.

Ten seconds.

Fyrenn exhaled sharply, and tilted his head to the side.

"Skye?"

I glanced back over my shoulder, vision clearing, then dipping into a wild bevy of colors and shapes as my eyes switched to arcane sight.

"NOT NOW YOU IDIOT! I NEED TO CONCENTRATE!"

I whipped my head back around, and focused on the antimatter. Just the antimatter. The fuel bottle, and the torpedo warhead fell away, leaving behind nothing but glowing pinpricks of lazily dancing light. Almost like fireflies.

Five seconds.

Some hotshot had once tried to teach me a teleport spell. Twilight Twinkles or something. Maybe it was Sparkle. Or Sprinkles.

I'd annihilated the first five things I tried to move, producing a pretty mess in the process.

Apparently teleporting was something even Alicorns didn't do regularly, and little miss purple priss had figured it out all by her onesie, at least over very short distances.

Cute shit. Nice party trick. I clearly didn't have the aptitude. The math was easy, it was the instinctive part I couldn't quite nail.

I had given up after the sixth test dummy, which never rematerialized.

Lost, Twilight had told me, to the Thaumatic ether. Moved to its destination coordinates on the higher dimensional layer, but never returned to our plane. She said the second I'd released the spell, the dummy had been subsumed as energy. It made a nice little 'POP!' Like a firecracker.

And she'd said that if it had been an energetic, or large enough thing...

Trying to get a lock on the antimatter was like trying to hold down a cloud if you weren't a Pegasus.

I inhaled one more time, and poured every last erg of myself into the spell.

Three seconds.

Almost there. Just need to integrate one last function. Take the cosine of a few nth dimensional angles...

Two.

Plot a guesstimate position. Reach out and sense the weirdest discontinuity... Yep, found it in one. Man that ship looks even uglier in arcane sight. Find the center, the biggest wide open space... No mistakes, or nothing you've done will matter---

One.

I fired the spellweave, and breathed one last prayer to Fyrenn's God that things would turn out, murmuring out loud as a disturbingly sharp 'SNAP' issued forth from the antimatter storage compartment.

"Surprise motherfuckers."

In an instant, the Wisp Hiveship turned from a dark black lightsink that radiated nothing but menace, into a white-hot mote of incandescence that radiated heat.

A titanic spherical blue and white pulse split the craft midships with a sound akin to a guitar string the length of the Earth's equator being plucked, even as the Shenzhou's particle lances ceased, starved of their antimatter powersource, and leaving the ship's fusion cores to maintain the engines and flight systems.

Human JRSF fighter and bomber planes scattered like chaff on the wind, most missing the blast entirely. The hull of the Hive Ship itself had absorbed the majority of the energy anyhow.

The few jets that were caught in the trailing edges of the shockwave were easily far enough out to allow their pilots time to eject. Pity.

Veritas watched through the sight of a dozen dissociated Wisp platforms from the inside of the spatial fold as the trajection spell yanked her away, heat singeing her tail with blinding force for a trillionth of a second.

So few had survived. But then, the ship only had a minimal crew aboard. A tactical hedging for which Nightmare was intensely thankful.

The blast was nothing like it would have been if the antimatter had actually reintegrated to physical space-time. But the sheer dump of the energy to the higher layers of the thaumatic ether, rather than the dead voids of lower dimensional subspace that the failsafes were designed to discard it in, was still colossal.

Easily equivalent to several kilotons of conventional Human explosives.

The three remaining fragments of the Hive ship pinwheeled almost gracefully away from each other, finally reaching the end of their ballistic arcs, and slamming into the gray and red dirt of the plains with a resounding sound something akin to the collapse of a megaskyscraper.

Black crystal, scarred and powerless, ploughed up three half kilometer furrows, before finally coming to rest in a protesting squeal of overstressed crystal and metal. Dust and smoke rose in equal measure over the now silent hulks.

"They can beat you. They *will* beat you. I can see exactly how it's going to happen."

The unwelcome, unbidden voice was yet another in a chain of nasty shocks. The host hadn't spoken aloud to her in many years. Something that thrice-damned Unicorn had done when she hit her with that disruption spell.

No matter.

Nightmare's response was actinic white, piercing the host's mind with as much pain as she could dump into it.

As she writhed in pain, and fear, Veritas spat a final retort at her just before she reintegrated back at the evacuation point.

"They barely held me off here in this magic-forsaken place. It is of little consequence; One ship out of five, and the smallest at that. A hundred Wisps out of four billion. They will stand no chance when I have my full strength to call upon."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Luna

Never had my beloved stars felt so alien. Cold. Distant.

It seemed grimly fitting that it should be a new moon as well. All but invisible against the dark and trackless expanse as it crested apogee. A frosty gust blew across the balcony, chilling the metal of my peytral to an almost painful degree.

Of the two of us, Celestia was ever the optimist, and I the realist.

It spoke great volumes of the situation that she was reduced to being the realist. And even as she conferenced with her most faithful student, and sent dozens of dispatches across the Kingdom, that left me to be the pessimist.

Neither rest, nor hope for the wicked.

I sourly rehashed the few scraps of useful morsels I had been able to provide.

I knew barely as much about the Nightmare as anyone else that had ever crossed her path. A thousand years spent together, lashed, tossed, and buffeted by her chained rage. And through it all not one tiny slip. Not once did she show a fractional hint of her memories. Her desires. Her plans.

"And the stars shall aid in her escape..."

I didn't realize I'd murmured the words aloud until a rustling of feathers answered from the study doorway. I could tell it was Varan by scent, and the cadence of his claw and paw steps.

He did not break his silence until he had reached the balcony, ensconcing himself on his hind legs in cat-like fashion.

"Legends have a peculiar blend of truth and fiction to them. It is difficult to parse one from the other without an understanding of the context in which they were first melded. The thousand years of exile for example. A round number only because great magics breathe, like living creatures, and they have ebbs and flows as of the tides and stars. Moments of weakness."

The golden-brown Gryphon tilted his head to bring his gaze off the sky, and I turned to meet it as he continued in his usual comforting, even, quiet tone.

"If I may be so bold as to speculate in an educated fashion... I have just had a chance to read the text to which you refer, with no small amount of clarification from some of your best archivists. Having seen more than one of these Wisps, and fought them, and seen the manner in which they appear to us in their natural form... A floating Pony-shaped field of pinpoint lights, not unlike stars... I would posit that the reference to her means of escape from the Moon becomes much clearer in light of that connection."

An astute visual observation. So typical of a Gryphon. I envied their sight. Sometimes I even fantasized that when my time to cede my post would come at last, that I might choose to spend the gift of my final mortal life-cycle as one of them.

Fantasized more often than not recently. How I hated the complexity of rule. The stresses of a thousand different Ponies tugging in a thousand different directions, and far too many of them increasingly falling into selfishness and self-assurance.

The life of a Gryphon, while much more dangerous on average, sounded so much simpler. Not by any stretch easier. But simpler. I longed for simplicity.

But I settled for engaging with Varan's speculation instead. A problem to occupy the mind.

"I would go so far as to say that your speculation could be taken nearly as fact. I do indeed recall the presence of other voices during the time of her escape, and return. Nothing more than shadows at the edge of my hearing and vision. She kept me as isolated as she possibly could..."

In light of the Gryphon's observation, I steeled myself, and re-examined those bitter memories.

I'd done my best to keep them out-of-mind for years, and while I'd always suspected in half-formed thoughts that Nightmare was not a lone instance of a monstrosity, but rather a member of a kind, the concept had never been given fully worded form to me before.

A foalish oversight on my part, in my desperation to avoid contemplating the mistake I had made. What it had cost my sister. What it had almost cost everypony...

Something flicked across my mind as I rewatched the horror of the moment when I'd almost slain dear Twilight. A weapon in Nightmare's hooves. A tap affording access to almost limitless power...

I sucked in a deep breath of the cold night air. The tingle of the frigidity in my lungs helped me to focus my thoughts, and strip away some of the emotions. I did my best to speak with a demeanour to match that of my company, not so different from my normal placidity.

"...When I was freed from the Nightmare, it was done using the Elements of Harmony. At the cusp of that moment, as her mind and being were ripped apart from my own, I felt her call out. She expended an enormous amount of power... I always had thought that she got most of that power from me, but she could have also absorbed a nearly limitless quantity of raw energy from the Elements in the brief time she was connected with them. And it had never occurred to me that she might be calling out not in rage, or fear... But calling out *to* something..."

Varan's unblinking eyes glistened in the starlight, miniature solar furnaces that reminded me of my sister's Sun. He was swift of mind, and he understood the implication, finishing my thought for me with a hint of trepidation so small that I wondered if any but I, and his brother, might have caught it at all.

"So... Not drawing power from you to defend herself... But drawing it from you, and from the Elements... And then calling out to the others... Sending that power to them?"

I nodded slowly, and reseated my wings. A nervous gesture Alicorns, Pegasi, Dragons, and Gryphons all seemed to share in common. In spite of the fact that I knew I didn't have to say it for practical reasons, for Varan had surely reached the same conclusions, I still bared the awful truth aloud.

Almost like a confession. A feeble hope that my fear being heard aloud and accepted by another might make it feel less powerful.

"I distinctly remember her anger at the end. Her unbridled fury... But in light of all this new... Context... I do not believe it was directed at Twilight. Nor her friends. Nor even at me, or the situation she found herself in... In retrospect it seemed to be more of a..."

The words caught in my throat as the truth of what I was about to say was laid bare by the very putting of it into spoken form. I had to push hard to get them out as my mind ranged ahead to the implications.

"...A triumphant rage. As of a warrior who strikes a killing blow against a nemesis, crying out their victory as the stroke of death falls. She may have screamed aloud in a semblance of fear for the benefit of the Element Bearers... But the only thing she was feeling in that instant was pure hatred for something... Or someone... Other."

Varan nodded slowly, and ground his right thumb claw against the sharp edge of his beak in a thinking gesture. After a moment to absorb, and follow my hypothesis to its logical conclusion, he responded, his gaze turning back to the stars above contemplatively.

"If your recollection holds true, and I have no doubts in your prowess of mind... Then that would imply that the Nightmare always intended to face the Elements after her Exile. Such context would better explain how six young Ponies were able to beat her so swiftly, in spite of the fact that she wielded deadly power through you, and had the benefit of far greater experience, and malice, on her side to overmatch the greater power they brought to bear."

His gaze abruptly shifted back to meet mine as he finally came to the worst truth of all.

"She always intended to be defeated. She had no intention of harming the Bearers, because she needed them to direct at her an enormous amount of power. Power otherwise inaccessible to her because the nature of the Elements would exclude her use of them outright. Power which she could then combine with a draining of all of yours to bolster it further, and send out to the rest of her kind... But for them to do what with it?"

I shook my head slowly, swallowing hard to dislodge a sudden lump in my throat. I could only muster a whisper in reply.

"I do not know. But I do know that the kind of power we are discussing is sufficient to make, or unmake, entire worlds. To lay bare the very fabric of the universe and weave it to one's desires with very little limitation. She could have obliterated our entire reality in that moment. Whatever she chose to do, I can't fathom how we did not see some sort of result, or side affect or conseq---"

In that horrifying moment I knew what she had done. What I had opened the door for her to do. It was the only thing of such raw resonance and consequential effect that we had all seen with our own eyes, which could possibly explain where all that energy had gone.

My horn flared, eyes filling with white light as I reached out to touch the fabric of the ether, to feel around the edges of the great quilt of our world. I had to know. My breaths turned shallow. My stomach turned to ash.

Though not seen in my third eye as arithmetic in any conventional terms, I could compare the information I needed as if each piece were a number. The degree to which they matched was conclusive. I felt my spirit shatter like glass dropped upon hard unfeeling stone.

"No!"

The word escaped me as a sharp breath of exhalation as the magic faded. How could we have all been so foalish? We'd tried so hard, for so long, to find answers to that problem. A solution. Any solution that would stop what had begun...

No wonder we had failed. We were but two small fillies trying to hold back the torrent of a broken dam with nothing more than a couple of buckets.

How had we missed the correlation then? I knew with a sickening twist of my insides that the oversight was also my own fault. Celestia had never directly seen the memories of those final moments of parasitic existence. I'd never shared that nightmare with anyone... Never examined that part of it closely enough myself to reduce the event to cold statistical knowledge.

Some small voice, the sound of my sister's viewpoint, cried out in the back of my mind, insisting that I'd never had any reason to think of things this way before. No one had, or could have.

It was a terribly small comfort to hold back the blackness. The horror of what I had a hoof in enabling was so great, than it knocked the wind from me. Numbed my bone and sinew with its magnitude.

It took me several seconds to realize that Varan had extended a wing and a foreleg to support me, his head down under mine and staring up into my eyes with deep concern.

I allowed a few tears to begin to form at the edges of my eyes, lacking any energy to hold them back as I forced out an explanation. The finality of it nearly cut my life from my heart.

"The Barrier. What the Humans call the bubble... It is nothing more than a discontinuity... Like the shock front ahead of an arrow as it pierces flesh on its way through the body. Equestria is passing through Earth's reality, locked to its location by a gravitational bond... We always thought it was a natural phenomenon. A terrible happenstance of situation..."

Varan sucked in a sharp breath, his own eyes going wide, and his ears flattening. His tail lashed reflexively in distress as he said what I could not bring myself to say outright, in a deep and quavering note that was the most uneven and shocked I'd ever heard come from his beak.

"The Nightmare... The Wisps... They set our world on a collision course with the Humans' Earth... Intentionally. And they used your Elements of Harmony to do it."

I collapsed onto the Gryphon's shoulder, every single ounce of effort in my body directed purely at holding back great heaving sobs.

He awkwardly held one wing around me. I could feel him slowly shaking his head. His whispered prayer only added to the intractable sense of pressure clenching down on my heart.

"My God... Grant us mercy."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 10th, Gregorian Calendar

"Earthgov Air Force eight five seven heavy, descend and maintain flight level ten thousand until you reach outer marker. Squawk thirty two twenty two for Basse-Terre tower. Be advised, your handoff team from JRSF is already on the tarmac and waiting. Two Gryphons, two Ponies, two Humans. Ground team says they all look... Unhappy."

Norris sighed, and worked the joints of her wrists against the inner edge of her cuffs to relieve an itch. The Javelin's comm-loop had been left connected to the rear compartment speakers, in a subtle nod to the fact that the aircraft's crew, and the four armed guards detailed to her, had no more desire to be part of the proceeding than she did.

They'd even addressed her as 'sir' or 'ma'am' and saluted throughout her arrest, detention, evacuation from GMCC, and subsequent loading into the executive transport.

At least the JRSF had the foresight to send Ponies and Humans with the handoff team. Norris wasn't worried about her fate in the slightest, providing she could stay alive long enough for the Council to get stuck-in to negotiations.

They'd see to it that she got off lightly. As far as most of them were concerned... As far as she, and anyone on her staff was concerned, she had done nothing wrong.

Posturing. That's all this was, she reflected, in an attempt to reassure herself. Her worst fear had been that she'd be handed directly over to waiting hungry Gryphons.

There were more than a few stories of the beasts devouring their defeated enemies as 'victory meals' while forcing the underlings of the dead to watch. A way to enforce fear. Norris decided she could at least respect the efficacy of such a tactic as a means to 'winning the future battles' without having to fire any more shots.

But the thought of ending up as one of those meals? Unable to put up a fight at the end?

The General shivered, and closed her eyes for a moment. Dammit. Those mental images were not going to go away quickly.

Suddenly they were replaced by something much worse. Gryphon banners lofted over the ruins of Earthgov Council buildings. Equestrian flags flying over municipal government centers. Long lines of military Police with their hands clasped behind their heads, force-marched into detention centers, with the only way out being the acceptance of a cup of purple goop...

Her own staff lined up against the wall of the GMCC by Gryphon shock troops in JRSF power armor, mowed down one by one as a Dragon JAG agent moved down the line and pronounced sentencing without trial...

What if the Council couldn't force a solution at the negotiation table? Worse... What if they surrendered to the pastel freaks and their monstrous guard-birds?

"Eight five seven heavy, Basse-Terre tower. We show new traffic at your eleven o'clock low, rising through flight level niner thousand, climbing. X-Band gives no ident-lock, and they are not responding to transmissions. IFF not present. Can you look out your canopy and tell us what you see?"

Norris stiffened, and brought her gaze up to peer through the open cockpit door. She leaned forward in her seat, trying to see out the canopy glass, watching as the copilot pressed his face as far forward as it would go.

"Aaahhhh... That's a negative Bass-Terre. It's pretty dark outside, and I don't see any lights or---"

Norris found her world turned upside down, in every literal sense. The Javelin was upright, level, and gently descending one moment, and then spinning about two axes like a rock in a clothes dryer the very next. A roar filled the General's ears, the drums bursting instantly, and the bite of her seat's five point safety harness caused bruises to bloom on every part of her body as the G-forces of an uncontrolled tumble intensified.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY!! EAF Eight five seven heavy, declaring an emergency!"

The pilot's panicked shouts were barely audible above the sounds of the Javelin breaking up under impossibly intense dynamic stresses.

So. This is how I die. I wonder if it was a malfunction? No... An unknown contact, and then the aircraft carrying me goes down in flames? No such thing as coincidence. Fucking traitorous Equestrian scum.

As the thought crossed Norris' mind just as she began to black out. Oxygen was plentiful enough below ten thousand feet, but the G-forces of the Javelin's tumble were too intense for even a trained pilot.

Emotion drained away, and her vision clouded as Norris watched one of the craft's immense wings shear down its centerline, flip end over end, and cut the fuselage in half with its passage, missing her by only a meter or so.

And then a red flash. A strange face that she couldn't quite make out, and a string of barely comprehensible words as something placed a hand... Hoof? On her chest.

"Right. Time to go dear. We want them to think you're dead, and not to be right about it after all. I warn you, this next part stings."

The strange red face was not wrong. There was a short sharp sense of tingling and burning on her skin, and then Norris' world vanished into darkness completely.

Chapter 18

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Celestia

My world was shattered in just ten minutes.

I felt in that moment that I at last understood the Human Biblical story of Job. His whole reality upended by calamity that would have killed a lesser man, or anyone separated from Divine Grace, just by the hearing of it.

I felt a sudden twinge. A desire to reach out to that same Divine Grace, the self-same one the Gryphons also almost universally seemed to worship, and beg for something, anything, to stem the pain.

I had always held something of a divine mystique among my little Ponies... Even among many Humans... But I felt grossly inadequate to shoulder that mantle. Doubly so given what I had learned.

It had started with the arrival of a sweat drenched Pegasus. The courier was so close to death from his flight that I had been forced to intervene directly to arrest his body's shutdown, and restore some energy.

The news was even more dire than I had feared to infer from his condition. An exchange of weapons of mass destruction on Earth. The fires of atomic hatred nearly poured out on a Conversion Bureau. An outright civil conflict. Thousands dead in retaliation. Antithetic Matter used as a weapon. Millions more teetering on a knife's glittering edge. Billions of futures in the balance on the whole.

Everything I'd worked so hard to avoid for so many years.

Oh Fyrenn. What did you do?

The instant the thought hit me, I chastised myself for it roundly.

I didn't have enough details yet. Maybe he had done something rash, if partly justifiable... Or perhaps maybe I just wanted someone easy to blame. Perhaps the fault lay, as it usually did, with a variety of people, across a rather larger span of time. A chain of many sickly sour links eventually at last forged unto the point of disaster.

The worst had at least been averted for the moment, but only ever-so tenuously.

Time was of the essence. I needed to be there. Needed to stand in the gap and hold back the howling storm before it metastasized into outright war.

And then Luna and Varan came into my study. I knew right away from my dear sister's face that it was going to be the worst possible kind of news. Luna hardly ever deigned to show others her tears, not even me. And it was plain to see she had been crying openly and profusely.

The sight was like a dagger thrust between my ribs.

I sat still, as if turned into one of the statues in the castle gardens, as Varan calmly laid out the entire train of conjecture for Kephic, Shining Armor, IJ, Stanley, and I. Calling it conjecture was a futile attempt at holding onto a false hope. I knew it was the only possible explanation for a great many things the moment the words left Varan's beak.

They fell on my ears with all the unholy weight of two worlds.

Varan never said a word as to any theories on why the Nightmare had done the things she did. I think he had only a faint idea. Luna almost certainly knew outright, but she didn't interject to say it.

The numbers were the only thing that gave it any kind of sense. I kept closely apprised of Humanity's statistics. Population. Birth rate. Death rate. Conversion rates.

I felt my breath catch. Conversion rates. The best offer of hope and salvation I could give... And that too was just one of the jaws of the trap. I'd helped to create one of the essential instruments of our doom. I understood a part of how Luna must have felt.

I needed to say something to help her. To take some of the guilt on my shoulders and get it off hers... But to do that, I would first have to explain to the trusted few in attendance.

My horn flared, and the windows and doors snapped closed. The curtains were drawn, A quick sweep of the arcane to ensure none were listening in ways they ought not.

I allowed a few more somber moments to pass before raising my head, looking to each occupant of the room in turn as I spoke, finally bringing my eyes to rest on Luna.

"There is only one logical reason for the Nightmare to have spent so much energy, on a horror of such scope... Given that we know Wisps exist outside the corporeal. And that for hosts, they need Equine form. Most ideally Ponies. To possess. The way Nightmare possessed Luna."

Sildinar was the first to leap ahead to the full conclusion. I could see it in his eyes. I heard him mutter an old Gryphic prayer aloud as I paused for breath.

"A'h Deh'ya aarum-acehd a'ingeal, dèy'an to'ròcair a'guh dy'on si'yann."

Oh God of Angelic Hosts; Protect us and show mercy.

IJ caught on next, and mercifully gave voice to the remainder of the obvious truth for me.

"She linked our world to theirs, in a way that would force Humans to flee here. A way that would force them to become ideal hosts in order to escape, and separate them from all their defensive technology in one smooth stroke. I've seen one of the Wisp Hives. They are as numerous as sand grains on a beach. But your population is small. And while ours is somewhat compatible, it too is not nearly large enough, nor fully physically ideal. And it is far better defended mentally by the Hive mind... She wants the Humans' sheer numbers. Their sheer numbers, in your ideal bodies."

Kephic winced visibly, and sighed. He spoke with the kind of almost prophetic utterance that had the timbre of a bell rung for a funeral. It was an eerie thing to come from his usually more jovial, colloquial tongue.

"The Dispossessed seek to be so no more, but to have form and feeling of the real."

The only sound after that was the 'THUD' of Carradan collapsing to his haunches. IJ reached to put a comforting wing around him as I heard him struggle to control his breath.

I realized with a shock that I hadn't drawn breath myself for several moments, forcing air in through my muzzle with a soft hiss as Stanley spoke.

"What... Does this mean? For us?"

Luna opened her muzzle to speak, but Varan raised a wing over her back to both comfort her, and stem the tide of what were doubtless very dark words indeed. The golden Gryphon spoke out instead, and I shot him the warmest glance of thanks I could. It likely came off more dour than I intended, but I think he understood as he tried to lend the room some strength with his words.

"It means that we fully know our enemy at last. And in knowing, there is hope yet to fight."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 10th, Gregorian Calendar

Aston

The darkness was warm. Like a comforting blanket in the deep of winter. I hadn't had any rest, or peace, for so long... I didn't want to fight it. I'd done all I could. My only regret...

Hutch.

I never got to tell him just how much I...

Lights. Indistinct. Like flickers of sun against eyelids... But Earth's sun had never been warm, or golden. The light was warmer than the dark blanket. And vibrant gold. Like a healthy sun shining down through a clear, living sky.

I felt myself scooped up in a pair of wings.

Fyrenn? Or Neyla?

So tired... Can't even open my eyes... Don't want to even ask...

The warmth of the sun seemed to spread through those feathers right into my own body. The ice cold void of my chest wound vanished.

That was it. I realized in a flash... I was dead.

The bolt hadn't severed my spine completely, but it had demolished a pretty good chunk of my insides.

The antimatter! The ship! Out of danger?

Did it even matter from my perspective if I really was dead?

Could you realize you were dead? Had Fyrenn been right? Was there really a Heaven and a Hell?

And where was I going if there was?

Going... I could feel motion. Air sliding past. More images and sounds, but they began to flood in too fast! It was overwhelming! How to make sense of it all?

Laughter. Crying. Joy. Sorrow. Pain... Was that my life flashing before my eyes?

No... Too indistinct...

A tickling, prickling sensation all through my head and sides. What the actual fuck?

And then one voice slowly becoming more distinct, repeating itself over and over...

"Laura! Laura please! Please Laura don't go! You're almost there! Don't leave me alone in this hell Laura please... Please!"

Hutch!!!

My eyes snapped open. Pain assaulted my skull like a trillion microscopic railgun rounds fired through every neuron in my brain.

Pain was good. Pain meant I was still alive.

"LAURA!"

I realized with a shock that I wasn't breathing. A heaving gasp shook my body, and then something pressed against my head and neck. A familiar smell hit me, mixed as it was with the tang of medical fluids, the reek of blood, and... Warm feathers? Hutch's particular preferred brand of military-issue deodorant.

I'd never been so happy to taste the scent of 'Bracing Redoubt.' Stupid name for a stupid scent.

I mashed my eyes shut, and the pain lessened. I felt tears begin to well up, even as Hutch's own tears dripped onto my... FEATHERS?!

"WHAT THE FFF-FFFF---"

I scrambled, and pitched forward. I could feel Hutch do his best to arrest my fall from the biobed, but he was just a Human and I was...

My beak hit the floor with a 'THUD.' My... Beak. Oh wow that was strange...

I winced, but the pain wasn't as bad as I'd braced for. I scrambled madly to get my legs... All four legs... Under me.

My breaths came in huge heaving gulps as I fought to suppress a panic reaction, sort out new nerve endings, parse instincts from two different brain structures, old and new, and try desperately to get my sense of linear time back in order.

I felt Hutch's arms encircle my neck. Felt his head against the feathers of one cheek. Oh wow that felt so good. So comforting. So right.

The gulps of air turned to sobs, as time unspooled from its tangled mess, and my mind finally rejoined the land of the living outright.

So glad to be alive. To know that he was alive.

And I felt ALIVE!

As the pain of the transitions in my mind began to fade to a dull tingle, I opened my eyes... And saw real color for the first time.

No, I wasn't color-blind as a Human... It was just that Humans apparently were seeing practically nothing of the real colors in the world.

Even the drab soothing inoffensive pastel tones of the Lucapa medical ward were a riot of colors, and details... Oh God the details! I could count surface imperfections in every head of every bolt and screw in the entire room in less time than it took for one beat of my... Enormous... Heart...

That was new. I felt so drained... So tired... Like I hadn't eaten in YEARS! But the raw potential underneath. Something like a fusion-driven Naval engine.

Was this what Fyrenn and Kephic, Varan, Sildinar, Seyal... What they felt all the time?!

I had some intellectual idea how much power their bodies had... How much mine now had... But oh boy its a different story when you experience it for yourself. Suddenly all those hair-brained ideas at command about Humans simming war games against Gryphons made no sense at all, and I finally *got* why they made no sense.

I had the kind of potential energy thrumming in my breast to power a squadron of tanks! My mind could move at speeds that made everything else appear to stand still.

But I didn't have any fuel. God I needed food... My stomach let out a rumble that almost shook the floor.

Hutch finally pulled away, and I finally fixed my new eyes on him. Charted and re-charted every wrinkle and dimple, every pore and cell of his face. That face I loved so much.

"I am not putting this off another second. Before anything else happens... Laura? Will you marry me?"

I sat down hard on my hind legs. The position was surprisingly stable, and comfortable, which was a good thing, because the flood of emotions was like being shot out of the spillway of a hydropower dam.

But at the same time, I knew the answer.

I nodded slowly, the tears forming in the corners of my eyes again as I worked out how to speak without either whispering so low that he couldn't hear, or screeching loud enough to shatter his ears.

To my surprise the voice that came out was very much my own, but somehow more melodic, and powerful. Like the difference between a half an orchestra and a whole.

"Yes Terrence. Yes I will."

"Hot DAMN Finally! SOME-bird actually gets it!"

I turned my head only just in time to see Skye cannon into my right side. I barely kept my balance, gingerly opening my right wing so she could snuggle in underneath. Something about the mixed smirk and joyful smile on her muzzle sent a burst of pure joy coursing into my own heart.

Her next words carried the familiar part saucy, part sarcastic tone that she often used to rib Fyrenn.

"Now, you two. Kiss. Kiss now. I have been waiting for the four of you to get your ships straight for years, and somehow I always knew you two would beat red-and-blue over there to it. KISS DAMMIT!!"

Who was I to deny that kind of enthusiasm. I smirked at Hutch, then grabbed him by the front of his off duty black T-shirt, and pulled him in close. For his part, he planted a long, slow kiss right on the side of my beak.

"FINALLY!! Congratulations to you both!!!"

As Hutch pulled away, smiling in a way I'd seen before, but to a degree that I never had, Skye reached out a hoof. He bumped it with his right fist, and then I did the same.

"Congratulations indeed. Hell of a pull-through, and hell of a proposal."

I turned to see the rest of the room behind me. Fyrenn was reclined in a biobed made specifically for a Gryphon, forelegs clasped behind his head, wings cushioned by cooling gel, and legs braced against a small paw-rest at the bottom. A technician was busy scanning the part of his chest where the Wisp's spine had been embedded. There was a dermoplast patch there beneath the feathers and fur, white textile just peeking out in the sea of red.

Neyla was sitting beside the bed, a host of cuts, gashes, and bruises mostly hidden by her feathers, but I could see a few that were serious enough that they too had patches on them. Beside her, nestled under one wing, Alyra sat completely unscathed, beaming up at me with a smile that seemed to warm the entire room.

I braced myself to look out beyond them to the rows of other biobeds. There were a lot of bodies. Not as many as I'd feared, but all looking much worse for wear. A few sealed corpse-containers in one corner spoke to at least some casualties.

My smile vanished. I raised an... Eyebrow? Well it felt like an eyebrow.

"How bad?"

Fyrenn shook his head, wincing as the action tweaked something in his chest. The med tech, a young Human man with stark white, hair frowned and shook his head. Fyrenn didn't skip a beat.

"Not as bad as it might've been in any other outcome. But the ground teams took a real beating. A third killed, most of the rest wounded, but only a few hundred severely. But they won. And so did we. You almost died four times. Weren't sure you'd ever wake up, even after the body came through. They had to pump you with a double dose of serum. Providential that they keep a few vials on hand from all species for emergency treatments like yours... Here's hoping we live long enough to all enjoy our second chance."

I couldn't tell if he was referring to the way we'd all nearly been crushed by that thing they called Veritas... The Nightmare... Or whether he was talking about the global situation. I didn't even know how bad it might've gotten after Skye and I left the bridge.

Maybe he was referring to both. Shit.

Suddenly worry and care flooded back into my mind. I felt my wings tense, and I reflexively ruffled them to try and re-seat them. Aaaaahhhh. Much better.

Hutch caught my expression, and let out a sour chuckle.

"Laura, I have a secure debrief in the SCIF in twenty... I need to shower and put on something presentable... Will you be ok until I get back? I promise I'll catch you up."

I nodded silently, and he reached forward to give me another short, firm hug.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. They have me down for a rush-job appointment tomorrow, oh six thirty. Fyrenn pulled some strings. Apparently here at Genesis, a Paladin's word can get you a Conversion slot with no further if's, and's, or butt's."

I shook my head and exhaled slowly.

"You don't have to do that just because---"

Hutch's finger rested gently on my beak, putting a stop to both the words, and the train of thought.

"I *want* to. More than I have ever wanted anything in the world, besides you. I want to put two of those gorgeous gray and amber wing feathers of yours right in my new head crest, and you can have two of mine. And then we can kiss properly in true Gryphon fashion. And we never have to be apart again. I'll resign my commission if they won't post us together."

Oh boy did he know how to say the words that would make my heart skip beats.

I nodded silently, and smiled, gently pressing my beak to the side of his cheek before he turned with a similar smile, and made his way slowly down the central aisle of the ward.

I looked down at myself and took stock, then turned to find the closest full length mirror. White feathers covered both of my cheeks and ran down all the way to my chest. My sides and wings were a deep downy gray, mixed with bars of amber near the ends of the primaries and leading edges. My head and back were jet black, stretching right down to the end of my tailfan.

Grayish yellow scales on my forelegs, less saturated than Fyrenn's or Neyla's, and an almost dull-brass-colored beak, but very similar bright golden eyes.

My build overall was somewhere halfways between Fyrenn's and Neyla's. A little above average in size for a female, I guessed.

Damn. I looked GOOD.

A sudden urge to run my beak through one wing's primaries began to compete urgently with the desperate hunger for meat. Raw. Red. Dripping protein...

"Uhm.. Aaah..."

As if in answer to my sounds of consternation, a younger female Gryphon came through one of the Ward's side corridor access doors, quickly fixed her eyes on me, and began striding my way on all fours.

"Commander Laura Aston? I'm here to help with rush emergency orientation and acclimation... Are you hungry?"

Oh sweet mercy. Food. I nodded fast and hard.

"Point me to the protein!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Tenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Luna

"I still think you should stay... The Humans made their bed. Let them lie in it for a little while. No matter what they do, the planet is doomed. The outcomes here matter more ultimately than the ones there."

Celestia paused, dropping the writing case that she had been levitating towards the last of her bags. We stood still, and alone as the silence that filled her study gained an energy of unspoken things...

I regretted what I'd said as soon as I'd said it.

Even if I believed it with ever fibre of my being. The second and third couriers had brought more of the full story, and knowing what their military had very nearly done... Had tried to do, and only been restrained by threats of total annihilation...

Perhaps the majority of them deserved to die after all.

The words were as much an expression of truths I believed, as they were of a desire for Celestia not to leave me alone with my pain. My fear. But what choice did she have? I knew what she would say even before she said it.

And as she finally delivered her reply with her usual kindness, and patience, placing one comforting wing over my back, I knew as well that she was right. I was being too harsh.

"What we have learned does not change any of the outstanding facts; They need me right now Luna. They need an experienced voice of peace, and calm. Someone neutral whom they will respect. Their planet will die. Sooner or later. How much more so now is it not our responsibility to help them to escape, by any means necessary? Now that we know that we... Share a small part of the blame."

I winced. She caught the gesture, and brought one hoof up quickly to keep my gaze locked with hers, instead of allowing it to drop to the floor.

"Luna. She is the one most and first at fault for all this suffering. We, both of us, and I perhaps even more than you, have merely made mistakes. Had we not made them, there is no guarantee that she would not have found other ways to her ends. She planned and has carefully executed the death of a world. And something far worse to come. What are they to say of us in the next age? That we laid down and died? Or that we made a way through the darkness for two worlds? I would rather fight than surrender to that evil."

The final words brought my head back around sharply. My sister hardly ever said words like 'fight,' and then usually only with tones of sadness, or disdain. And her ultimatum had been delivered with no measure of either. Just a hard steel that would have been more at home in my muzzle than hers.

I knew she was capable of it, when pushed. I'd seen it before. Once directed right at me... Or at least, the wicked thing nestled inside me.

I began to nod slowly, and pulled in a deep breath for strength. I did my best to put a confidence I didn't fully feel into my words.

"Then as Varan said; We will fight."

My sister nodded once sharply in satisfaction, and returned to the task of loading her last supplies. Her voice had shifted into a more pragmatic vein, one I was intimately familiar with, that she used when discussing matters of court.

"I suggest that while I am gone, you fight by making us an ally. Push for this alliance with Inside Joke and her Hive. Break with subtlety if you must. And even with protocol. We can no longer afford to appease the nobles. If they need a push... Then give them whatever push is needed. I am tired of pandering to the baser instincts of Ponies whom I know are capable of being better. Let them be better, or let them get out of our way."

The words shocked me into stillness. Yet they also send a thrill into my wing feathers. Was she finally giving me license? To put those insufferable pricks in their place? After so many years of diplomacy, and meeting them halfway?

I nodded slowly as she looked over her shoulder at me with a smile, and a wink. A wink!

I had to remind myself; She didn't want to appease the old, mostly long-lineaged overrepresented Unicorn doddards anymore than I did. She had just always felt that the right way to rule was to rule gently, and with a guiding hoof, rather than a pressing one.

But desperate times...

As she levitated her bags into orbit around her and moved towards the door, she glanced back one last time with a sad smile.

"I will return soon. As always, I trust the kingdom to your *most* capable hooves, my dear, beloved sister."

I wished, as she disappeared through the archway, that I felt as much confidence in myself as she had in me.

Were it so easy.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 10th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

The last notes of the old Gryphic lullaby faded away, and I closed my beak as softly and quietly as I could. For a long moment, I focused purely on my daughter's steady, somnolent breathing, matching my own to it as I stood over her curled up form.

When I was sure she was fully asleep, and had succeeded in slowing my own breathing, and centering myself, I turned and strode silently from the guest quarters, sparing a sad glance for the blasted hilt of my sword where it lay on the desk. Damn shame. But things could be replaced. People could not. And memories were forever.

I tried not to think about the contents of the lone DaTab in the desks drawers as I padded across the corridor, and into the open door of Neyla's room.

I found her sprawled out on the nest-bed, beak propped on one claw, eyes scanning the wall screen as five news feeds played on mute, with the subtitles enabled.

I stood silently in the doorframe, watching her expression. Parsing her worry. Tracing the outline of her feathers. Soaking in the gorgeous blues and browns of her coat. Tracing the utterly perfect curvature of her half-splayed wings.

Come on you fool. Stop stalling, and stop staring. Not all battles are fought with sword and spear. Hutch could do it. So can you. Tomorrow might never come. Don't put off your life until there's nothing left to live.

I cleared my throat, and she turned her head slightly, raising one eye crest and looking up at me with a half sad smile.

"She is asleep?"

I nodded, and made my way fully into the room, glancing briefly at the carnage on the wall screen before averting my gaze to look out the window instead. So much fighting. So many hurt. So many dead.

Every city on Earth was on fire. The retribution of an enraged populus, half of them furious at their government for launching warheads at children, and the other half just as furious that they had backed out when faced with the consequences.

The last paroxysms of a dying society, on a dying world.

What a shitty place for a second date.

As far as I was concerned, that night out at the dive in Manhattan three years before had been our first. Still. Make the best of what you have. I'd cleared everything I needed through requisitions, and what were they going to say? 'No'? After we'd put our lives on the line for them?

Martins had personally approved the order. I had the authenticator chip nestled in my neck feathers. A small rucksack packed, and handed to a flight line technician.

Got the food, the drinks, and the ride.

All I needed was the girl.

Neyla sighed, and gestured to the screen, then to the myriad glowing lights of the facility out the window.

"She did the right thing. I hope she knows that with every last bit of her heart and soul. She saved an untold number of lives. And neither of you are remotely at fault for what's going on out there now. But without you, none of this place would still be here, and the hope it represents would be dead and gone."

I choked back something halfway between a sour laugh, and a heartfelt sob. How the hell did she always know what to say? Always...

I turned, and fixed her with the best smile I could, twisted as it was halfway by the urge to cry at the release her words brought. Love is a powerful thing. And the truths of the people you love, who love you, can heal any wound... If you'll just let them touch your heart.

Time to go. Seize the future I knew we both wanted and rage against the coming darkness in the best way I knew how.

I crooked one claw, and gestured with one wing towards the door.

Neyla snorted, and raised both eye-crests. But I could see an excited tension hit her wings and hind legs.

"What? Now?! It's oh two hundred!"

I nodded, and smirked, moving silently towards the door, and casting the sauciest grin I could muster over one shoulder.

Her eyes widened like a cat's when they saw prey, and she bounded from the bed to follow me.

It was a short, silent, and enjoyably anticipatory walk. First to the lift. Down to the ground floor. Across a walkway to a small access tarmac and tertiary runway.

The shape of the vehicle was backlit by landing lights, and larger arc lights far off in the distance. A graceful wing-like swoop that resembled a falcon stooping in flight.

Still as-yet unable to take armaments, or survive deep space radiation, but fully capable of pressurized suborbital, near-orbital flight. A batch of two hundred was destined for every future wave of Genesis.

Martins still hadn't gotten her department to settle officially on a name for them.
I had suggested Shrike.

A middle aged green Unicorn was standing beside the open rear hatch. He snapped off a habitable salute as he stepped away, which I returned casually. Neyla snorted in amusement, and inclined her head.

"You certainly know how to show a lady a good time."

I grinned widely, and started up the boarding ramp.

"Oh. You ain't seen nothin' yet."

The cockpit was a gorgeous space, easily two thirds transparisteel and holo-dome. Two forward stations sat surrounded on three sides by open views, controls tucked neatly into Hand/Claw-on-throttle-and-stick systems on each side of the multi-species capable bucket seats.

Behind and above were two more similar stations with excellent views. Aft of the cockpit a larger bay space with room for more people, equipment, or stations depending on the configuration. Ours was empty except for the insulated rucksack stowed on one wall.

I sank into the left seat with a contented sigh, slotting the authenticator chip into a slot under the throttle, threading my wings into the Gryphon-specific control sleeves, and touching back paws to rudder pedals as Neyla moved to strap herself into the right seat, gazing about the cockpit in undisguised wonderment.

"Humans know how to build a beautiful thing."

I smiled, and inclined my head as I began to work through the hastily memorized preflight and startup checklists. New prototype impulse engines began to spool up with a low rumble reminiscent of distant thunder.

The cockpit lights dimmed to almost nothing, and the controls all turned to a pleasant shade of night-vision-saving red.

As I finished the remarkably short and simple list of tasks, allowing the Shrike's AIs to do their own final preparatory work, I punched up our course as a holographic faint trackline, and toggled my communications switch to the local tower frequency.

"Lucapa ground, Shrike Sierra Two Five Niner. Requesting takeoff clearance under flightplan as-filed."

I grinned, watching Neyla's expression as she worked out where we were going.

"Shrike Sierra Two Five Niner, clearance granted. Roll at your discretion. Squawk one eight four nine six for Shenzhou traffic control to clear the defense perimeter. Enjoy your flight."

It was eerie, not being asked to contact AfCom for a link to Earthgov aerospace control. Suborbital and orbital vectors had always required permission before. But Earthgov's entire aerospace control network was still crippled. We could go wherever we wanted, do whatever we wanted, and no one could say a damn thing about it.

Except for the need to play nice with area-control on Shenzhou, still hovering in the dark cloud bank above our heads, keeping silent watch over the entire area. I held in the comm control on my stick with one claw as I secured my G-harness with the other.

"Roll at discretion. Squawk one eight four nine six for local control. Two Five Niner out. Thank you, and goodnight."

I tapped out a series of instructions on the short-claw entry keys on the throttle, and spoke once more.

"Shenzhou area control, Shrike Sierra Two Five Niner. Requesting exit vectors through the ADIZ."

I glanced reflexively up through the canopy, just barely picking out the ship's hulking gray form in the night.

"Sierra Two Five Niner, proceed from runway to flight level twenty two hundred and turn north north-west to three five zero. Hold course until you cross the ADIZ and then maneuver at your discretion... Thank you. For everything sir. Have a good flight."

"Runway to flight level two two hundred, then north north-west snap three five zero until exit ADIZ. Thank you too."

I sighed, and then locked eyes with Neyla.

"Ready?"

She nodded resolutely. I knew she understood the layers of the question.

"More than ready."

I smiled, and pressed the throttle forward.

Neyla

The sensation of such power, and acceleration was sublime. The runway flew past at breathtaking speeds, naught to hundreds of stadia a second in less time than a breath. And then Fyrenn pulled back on the stick.

We went from level, and grounded, to an eighty degree climb in no time, passing into the assigned traffic pattern, levelling off again, and then blasting away over the desolate plains at full acceleration, until we hit the vehicle's maximum lower-atmosphere speed of mach four.

As we crossed out of Lucapa's aerial defense identification zone, Fyrenn withdrew his claws from the throttle and stick, and gestured to me.

My heart began to race with the thrill of the idea, even as I laid claws to stick and throttle on my side. I gave him one 'really?' look for confirmation. And then I frolicked.

The Shrike seemed to have no limits that I could find. I looped, rolled, spun, dipped, wheeled, and sometimes just raced the wind. Though it was mostly pure darkness outside, and the dull ashen color of the sky blotted out the moon and stars entirely, the projections on canopy provided more than enough data to fly the vehicle safely.

After a good ten minutes of pushing the flight envelope as far as I dared, I finally set to the task of the real thrill... Getting out of the atmosphere.

Fyrenn said nothing the whole time. He just watched me. And smiled. A warm, peaceful, joyous thing that far too rarely graced his beak. I enjoyed the way he was looking at me more than the flying.

When you find someone who looks at you that way...

I had hopes for the night. Such hopes.

I pressed the throttle all the way forward, and pulled into a steady shallow climb, allowing the engine AI to continue to push the impulse engines' maximum setting upwards as the majority of the atmosphere fell away beneath us, and drag decreased.

Our speed began to climb into space-launch territory and then.... And then we were suddenly through the damaged layers of atmosphere.... And it took my breath away as if I'd been struck.

I was deeply, intimately familiar with Equestria's night sky. It was like an old friend, always there, ever-changing yet always constant and predictable. Filled with new things wherever you looked hard enough, but always the same much beloved familiar old things too.

But the closest I'd ever seen it was from a Gryphon's maximum flight ceiling. High, to be sure, and higher than many Human aircraft...

But we were well and truly in space. I could scarcely believe it. All at once the sense of gravity was gone. And the lensing and distortion of the atmosphere with it.

A Gryphon's eyes are a wondrous thing... Without an atmosphere? I could see all the way to what felt like creation's inception itself. Ten to the third to the third more stars and galaxies than you could ever hope to see from inside an atmosphere, even with our enhanced eyes.

A glittering canvas of unadulterated reds, blues, greens, blacks, velvet purples...

And with a gasp I saw the moon. Not Equestria's, but Earth's. I knew every landform by heart... I'd developed a mild obsession with Human spaceflight during my time with the JRSF.

Deep dark gray mare against the almost-white paler silver gleam of brighter regolith...

Tears came unbidden, but not unwelcome. Appropriate to the beauty of the creation that I could see in a way no Gryphon ever had before...

"My God... It's magnificent... Beyond words..."

Fyrenn closed his eyes, similarly wet with tears, as if needing to momentarily shut off the view just to process the enormity of it, nodding as he did so, his voice husky with emotion.

"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager self through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my claw, and touched the face of God."

I exhaled slowly at the beautiful words, and just how much they fit everything about not just what we were seeing, but that which we were, body and soul.

I realized with a jolt that it would be both his first, and last chance to ever see the real night sky of his first Homeworld with his own eyes.

I started to cry too.

He opened his eyes, and brushed one claw against the canopy glass.

"John Gillespie Magee. Boy would someone like him have loved this..."

A moment of silence passed as the Shrike rolled gently to put itself between the Earth and us, providing the best unobstructed view of space yet. Fyrenn smiled, reached out, and hit the release first on my harness, then his.

We each pushed off from our chairs and floated there for a moment. The sensation wasn't new, I'd felt 'hang-time' plenty of times in a JRSF craft, or even using the power of my own wings... But being functionally weightless second by second without end... That was something new and wondrous indeed!

After a long moment of gazing out at the stars, suspended with wings partly outstretched, Fyrenn smiled, and glanced down at the nearest console.

"Computer; Begin playlist."

Fyrenn

As the first notes of the old tune came out of the cabin speakers, I stretched out one open claw to Neyla. She paused, obviously drinking in the moment, face filled with an expression of love, and desire, so intense that it almost set fire to my tender newly repaired lung.

At last she reached out to clasp the claw in one of her own, wrapping the other around my waist. I did the same, and we both extended out wings slightly to push against the cockpit air.

And we danced in zero-G. Slowly. Intimately. Cheek to cheek.

We danced to 'Fly me to the Moon.' An old waltz or two. A salsa. And then something soft and full of aching longing on a dozen different bagpipes, woodwinds, and various instruments by someone called 'McCreary,' the instrumental-only version.

I'd memorized the Irish Gaelic of the lyrics before-claw, and sang them to her softly as we went, slipping in the words 'my love' instead of 'my friends,' though she wouldn't realize until she later went back to check the translation against her memory.

As the last notes faded, I kept both her claws clasped in my own, all four of our wings curled into a canopy that partially enclosed us, and highlighted the setting Moon above our heads, her back paws standing resting on top of mine, tails entwined.

I have honestly no idea how much silence passed as we hung like that. I wished it could have gone on forever. But suddenly I became aware of the mission clock, and I knew we only had another half-hour of sub-orbital flight time. I needed to make the most of it. The rucksack of food and drink was long forgotten. There'd be time for that whenever. It didn't matter anymore.

I had more important things to do.

Take that final plunge.

"Neyla... I am so sorry."

She opened her beak to respond, but I shook my head, placing one talon on her beak to close it, before grasping her right claw in mine again.

"Let me say this, please. Then say what you will after."

She nodded, and I inhaled deeply, steeling myself. Don't make a chicken of yourself now you idiot. You've defied goddesses, and demons. What's there left to fear...? Just say it from the heart.

"I owe you such an apology. I've been so stupid. So full of fear... I've known what we both wanted for a long time now... But I let my faithlessness get the better of me. I let fear come before love, and for that I am truly sorry. And if you wanted to tell me good riddance and to stuff it, and go the hell away... I'd probably deserve it... Because how could I ever live up to the gift of you?"

She shook her head adamantly, a silent rejection in force of the idea of sending me packing.

I felt my throat hitch as I watched her tears start up again. I could feel my own not far behind. Get it done you idiot, before you start to ugly-cry and your voice cracks.

"You are a gift. Something I could never deserve. Perfect in love. Brilliant in mind. Kind and stalwart of spirit. Valiant of heart. The best mother Alyra could ever ask for, in any world, in any time, of any kind, in any place... And you are the first, and only that I've ever loved with the passion of romance..."

I fought to keep my breathing in check. I could see her doing the same. Her expression screamed expectation. And hope. And a thousand other things.

"...Neyla. Will you let me take you up on your offer? Be a mother to Alyra. Be mine forever, and let me forever be yours?"

I could barely pick the 'Yes' out of the half laughter, half crying sound she made that cut me to the deepest part of my soul. Then we were both completely wrapped up in each other physically and emotionally, a weeping, laughing, hugging tangle of wings and paws and claws and legs tumbling through the aether, the stars pinwheeling behind us.

At last, after many, many moments, she pulled back, and smiled with a luminosity that made the Moon seem dim by comparison.

It was the single most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, that moment where her head was framed against all the glory of Creation, lit by the Moon, radiating love.

And then she reached out, and snagged me by the feathers of my neck, and pulled my beak to nestle against hers in the longest, first, and best romantic kiss of my life.

I spent every last tiny erg of time dilation skill I had drawing out that kiss, and I know she did too.

At long, long last, the oldest and worst of my pains, and fears, died a beautiful death.

And love was given leave to soar.

Chapter 19

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Eleventh Day, Celestial Calendar

'But... Why? What reason would the fell thing have to do that? The enslaved under Chrysalis harbor no love for us, and it makes the most perfect sense that she would think of us as a serious threat to her regardless!'

They were right of course. I let my agreement be felt, mixed with a brief snippet of memory to show them how much the Gryphons and Ponies agreed with that assessment.

Another voice, like a trill of a woodwind in green.

'That is like wasting a dart from the quiver *after* someone else has already filled your enemy with a dozen bolts! Surely there is a reason. Your memories of the Wisps show them to be exceptionally well coordinated. A Hive mind likely not unlike that we have access to... Not the sort of creatures to waste resources I think.'

Hope always seemed to know how to find a good visual metaphor. They had taken to that faster than almost anyone in the Hive. I recalled some relevant moments from my own encounters with the Wisps, and we all watched them together in relative silence, sharing a thrum of connected emotions, and half formed thoughts, but nothing outright that could be transcribed to words.

A sudden knocking at the door of my guest chambers pulled part of my mind back to the reality of the physical.

I left them with the equivalent of 'talk amongst yourselves, I'll be close if you need me' and tuned that part of my mind to hear and absorb everything they were discussing, but on a delay, so that I could devote the majority of my mind to the present, and the physical.

"Enter."

To my surprise, it was Sildinar who opened the door, padding softly across the beautiful woven flax rug to take a seat across from me on his haunches. He seemed to notice something in my expression, a distance that I often wore just after coming out of a full Hive-link.

"I am sorry... Did I interrupt?"

I shook my head, and glanced off to the side, doing my best to bring my expression back to full 'neutral' and keeping my tone the same.

"Not especially. We were going in the same sort of circles that every discussion about our discoveries has been for hours, regardless of the parties involved. What brings you here?"

The roan Gryphon scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, and took a moment to compose his words before speaking. His mannerisms always struck me as a middle ground between Kephic and Fyrenn's more colloquial, open, earnest behaviour, and Varan's exceptionally staid, calm, unreadable personality.

"Even without the field of emotional manipulation the infiltrators were producing... These sessions are going to be a hard fight. I more than many Gryphons have some experience with these nobles, by dint of my station. While Luna and Celestia can make the choice outright, as they have said, and while they may have more incentive to break with moirés now... What happened in the city square has frightened many of the citizens and nobles here alike."

I knew from both the logical construction of his words, and the tone in his voice, that he was not finished, so I pricked my ears and inclined my head in a gesture of assent for him to continue, indication that I understood, and curiosity.

All good infiltrators knew how to use body language, and for that I was grateful. I loathed the idea of having to try to learn it all from nothing. The isolated minds of the other kinds seemed to thrive on, and rely heavily on, such non-verbal communication. To lack understanding of it would have made me a conversational cripple.

At the gesture, Sildinar continued, his tone becoming less preparatory, and more assured as he fixed his eyes on mine to underscore his intent. He'd also somehow picked up on my desire for him to skip to his point, then work backwards if necessary, in spite of my attempt to hide that emotion for politeness' sake.

"I want to propose a formal alliance between your people, and mine. Not just an extension of our non aggression pact, and our historical archive cooperation initiative... An outright alliance. That means trade... And the free exchange of all knowledge, including weapons... Mutual protection... And that means at least partially open borders between us as well."

There were not many things he could have said that would shock me enough for my muzzle to show it in spite of my usual restraint. That was certainly one of them.

He held up a claw before I could speak, and I gathered he meant to elaborate, so I shut my open hanging muzzle, and let him proceed, as much so I could have time to process as anything else.

"There has been much blood, and pain between Changelings and Gryphons. But what you are is something new, and different. We can no longer afford half-measures in this world, nor can we afford to take things more slowly because of old scars. We will heal, adapt, and move on, or we will die. Too much was bound to change already with the coming of so many Converts... How much more now that we face the Nightmare, and whatever she has planned? I trust Fyrenn, Kephic, Varan, and Neyla to the hilt. They all vouch for you, and yours. What better recommendation could I have? I'd be a fool not to accept a hoof of friendship... If you're willing to extend it."

I nodded slowly. Everything he said resonated with me, and with the Hive as I began to share his proposal, and receive feedback in turn. Almost all positive, very little that was truly negative. There was strong consensus.

One of the benefits of a Hive mind; No need to stand around in a room physically deliberating for days at a time when you could poll your entire population and have true sharing of thoughts and feelings, without duplicity, nor the slowness of spoken word.

I spoke aloud one of the more poignant items of feedback, that mirrored my own thoughts.

"And an alliance between us would push the Ponies much harder in the direction of acceptance. They are all but required to treat your friends as their friends, and vice versa."

He smiled warmly and nodded once, his one word response conveying a wealth of similarly positive and genuine emotions.

"Exactly."

And then he extended a fisted claw. I hesitated for only a moment, double checking the emotional tenor of the Hive in full, before extending my own hoof to bump the proffered limb.

"We accept your proposal. Shall we discuss particulars?"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 11th, Gregorian Calendar

Martins

"No. I promise you, unequivocally, that the Council has no idea what happened, neither does the Military. We're happy to share every last piece of evidence, telemetry... Whatever you want, in lieu of being able to provide Norris to you in person."

Urgh. Zero Five Hundred was too early for bullshit. I winced, and took a deep draught of my coffee. Black, scalding, and as caffeinated as I could get. It would have to do in lieu of a full night's rest for at least a little longer.

Seyal's expression made it abundantly clear that she didn't accord any more value to Lindstrom's words than she might have given to a dead rat speared on an index talon.

I'd seen that expression on a Gryphon more than once. And I'd learned to trust it as being near to infallible. My gut was in complete agreement with hers. Councilor Lindstrom had always struck me, the little time I'd known him, as a 'kinder gentler' Matthas Korvan.

He raised his hands in a conciliatory manner, and seemed visibly grateful for the length of the conference table that sat between him, Councilors Xaelus, Sakai, Finch, and Couldoire, and the small entourage from GMCC.

Of the bunch, Xaelus and the military big-wigs seemed surly, even unashamedly angry. Sakai had that level-headed even-tempered tranquility that had always made her so popular with constituents and colleagues alike. Finch and Couldoire looked completely shell-shocked. They were uncontroversial picks, like Sakai, but clearly less experienced.

Not that experience was much good for the end of the world in my opinion. I had almost as much experience as Sakai, and I knew I wasn't doing the very best job of containing my emotions. How could anyone be expected to contain the emotions associated with the idea of a WMD exchange?

That Sakai could hold an even temper was just a testament to her exceptional self-control and professional comportment.

Xaelus was the obvious pick from the military side. A former officer himself, he was about as good at politics as the Army is at 'intelligence.' Sakai and more moderate Councilors had obviously pushed for Lindstrom as a strong counterbalance to Xaelus' age, and heavy-handed pro-Human disposition.

On our side of the table we had Generals Seyal, Arnshekh, Sorven, and a Pegasus two-star named Dappled Stratus whom I was less familiar with, along with myself, and a small collection of my advisers from every species in the Genesis program.

Seyal finally broke the long silence, sharpening the edge of one index talon absently on the granite of the conference table's edge as she did so. A brilliant intimidation mannerism if ever I'd seen one.

"You expect us to set aside suspicion when the woman who you placed in charge of your military forces fires weapons of mass destruction at civilians, of several different species... And then she vanishes in an 'accident' which you can not explain? Aboard an exceedingly reliable aircraft, flying a well traveled military executive flight route, and less than five minutes from the runway?"

As Xaelus opened his mouth to answer, indignation clearly written all over his face, Seyal held up a claw, and cut him off sharply. Damn. Smart negotiator. She'd done that on purpose.

"Let me reiterate two points to you which are vital to your response. The first being that if we ever discover that you have lied to us about this? We will find, and execute, every single person involved in the decision to tell that lie, as well as every officer or official in their immediate chain of command."

Xaelus' face hardened even further, and he rose to place two fisted hands on the table, leaning forward as he tried and failed spectacularly to project an air of authority, and menace.

"And the second?"

Seyal, glanced down at her index claw, and then back up at Xaelus with a frighteningly deadpan demeanor.

"Gryphons do not ever make idle threats, bombastic exaggerations, walk back statements, or fail to keep a promise. We only deal in facts, and truths."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head as Xaelus glowered impotently, and practically spat his response across the table.

"Is that a threat, bird?"

Seyal offered the man another terrifyingly casual glance, then held up her index talon as if offering it for his examination and opinion.

"A promise, monkey."

At last, Lindstrom raised an arm to press Xaelus back into his chair, forcefully interjecting in those naturally soothing tones that he had doubtless spent many hours further honing into the perfect pitch, and practiced hypnotic patterns.

"Delegates, please! We are all *civilized* creatures here, and I doubt anyone wants to see a demonstration of the Gryphons' considerable physical and tactical prowess applied to anything other than our *mutual* enemies. The fact remains that we have no way of knowing what happened to Norris' flight until the investigation is complete, and even then perhaps not."

The man spread his arms almost as wide as his smile. I couldn't help but narrow my eyes. I never did like anyone who was that comfortable using flowery prose in a high-strung conversation with real stakes. Give me the blunt honesty of a down-home no-nonsense go-getter like Hutch any day over the velvet cloaked knives of someone like Lindstrom or Korvan.

Lindstrom rose to take a more inviting standing pose, a stark contrast to Xaelus' previously gorilla-like stance, even as the latter sat and glowered with arms folded. Lindstrom's voice continued on that just-slightly-too-warm key.

"You knocked out the majority of our military defense and tracking systems with your... Retaliatory action. Many military marked planes are now running afoul of an angry Pegasi and Gryphons in the airspace around runways now, and a few have even been damaged in the last couple of hours, albeit without serious casualties. Likewise we have had several near-misses with our own defensive emplacement malfunctions. And there are still multiple terrorist cells, from numerous factions, who are doubtless acting in the power vacuum to make gains."

Lindstrom sat down once more, and leaned forward, hands clasped together, meeting the eyes of each person at the table calmly as he masterfully wrapped up his little speech. Slick bastard.

"Right now our first priority must be reaching a mutually agreeable framework for lasting and stable peace between all our governments and military entities. Immediately secondary to that prerequisite goal, we must work together to create and implement a mutually acceptable deconflicted plan for securing this planet against the protests, riots, brushfire civil conflicts, and terrorist actions that are rushing to overwhelm the dikes even as we sit here tossing childish insults!"

Arnshekh entered the conversation then. I didn't know him well, but I'd met him briefly more than once. His temperament reminded me strongly of Sakai's, and I was pinning most of my hopes on the two of them; Willing them to find common ground in their selfless, tranquil, caring dispositions, backed by the cold steel of their deep well of experience and fortitude.

Of course, it never hurts to have a Dragon on your side for numerous other reasons. Even a Gryphon can't beat a Dragon for raw intimidation resulting from sheer size.

"Our terms are simple; We feel that the best status quo moving forward will be to systematically remove the key points of conflict between us. We wish for both sides to dismantle any and all strategic weapons, excepting a small mutually agreed arsenal which will require positive control from all interested parties to fire. This will include mutually agreed limitations on any heavier tactical railgun systems. Anything with significant over-the-horizon capability."

I could immediately see from Xaelus' face, and the shift in posture of the Earthgov Military Generals and Captain, that our first demand was going to be one of the biggest sticking points. Arnshekh continued unabated, like the gentle flow of a river inevitably over a small waterfall.

"We also wish to disentangle the Military Police from the Conversion Bureaus as much as possible, and rely entirely on JRSF and ConSec not only for the defense and policing of the immediate structures, but the largely Equestrian communities surrounding them."

That seemed likely to be the least argued point, and I could see that as well in the faces on both sides of the table. The ones I could read, at any rate.

"Finally, we desire a better solution to the question of general Terran governance. One that respects both the desires of the populace, the growing Equestrian segment of Earth's demographics, and the justified anger of a majority of the populace at the actions of your military. One that also respects and understands the limited time this planet has left. As to the question of stability, we can discuss formal apologies and statements of friendship from both sides, as well as a fairly divided and mutually acceptable plan for planetary defense and policing after these other points are settled."

Sakai blinked, and folded her hands under her chin. While not flustered, her tone was certainly notably concerned as she proffered the first Earthgov response.

"While understandable, your terms are steep, General. Particularly the first, and last. You are proposing an unprecedented decommissioning of assets which we, as a sovereign government, lay exclusive claim and right to. You are also proposing formal secession for some portion of the globe, which will only add to the complexity of the geopolitical situation."

She inclined her head, and stared forlornly at the center of the table, raising one hand to indicate that she was not quite done.

"Nevertheless... Irrespective of what my colleagues in the Military may have to say, I believe I speak for at least a plurality of Councilors when I say that we are horrified, and ashamed at the actions of our Military Command, and General Norris in particular. We did fire weapons of mass destruction at civilian targets. That action must have consequences for us beyond your initial retaliation. Just as we in Earthgov will expect consequences to be dispensed on your side for the decision to kill four thousand of our own, and to strike a crippling blow against our defense infrastructure."

Xaelus nodded sharply at the back half of her statement. The first was probably lost on his thick skull. All he was there to look for was reparations for the dead at Creek Mountain. Good riddance to bad pennies as far as I was concerned.

One of the Earthgov Military officials, 'Sommers' by her uniform nameplate, a Force Captain by her rank chevrons, raised one finger, asking the question at last that several of huad been dreading for hours.

"You demanded the right to try and punish the officer who fired our strategic weapons at your Conversion Bureau, and this facility. We have every right to, at minimum, know who fired the potentially illegal, secret, antimatter weapons used to retaliate against us."

'Secret.' She hit me with the hardest direct glare she could when she said that word. Well why do you think I kept them a secret? When you know you've got too many fascists in the hen house, it doesn't do to share your plans for the fox traps with the whole barnyard.

Seyal and Arnshekh also proffered a questioning glance in my direction. No one on the Shenzhou's bridge, or in the Mission Ops Center, had breathed a single word about Alyra's choice.

Aside from the fact that I wasn't about to expose that poor girl to any more heat from the Earthgov, I knew the political fallout of 'Isaac Wrenn's Daughter, also a Gryphon Convert' as the news ticker headline paired with the words 'Fired Antimatter Warhead' would badly inflame more than a few already overboiling sensibilities.

"I gave the order."

My head was drawn to the source of the words as if by a steel cord welded to my nose. Hutch. He strode into the conference room with the kind of devil-may-care expression and walk you might expect from someone who had cheated death by a very small margin, and consequently had no patience left for anything short of the apocalyptic, or the personally relevant.

"I also gave the order to strike the Hatchet bomber group. I take full responsibility for the consequences of both actions. But if you expect an apology? You've got a whole other thing coming. You fired at civilians. Both times. I took defensive actions as a result. If I hadn't? I'll bet you every last measly bit of my life savings that you'd all be dead now, and Gryphons would be hoisting their flag over every Earthgov complex on the planet. You're welcome."

As Hutch stood between Arnshekh and Seyal, arms folded behind his back, one eyebrow raised, a frustrated silence fell. I suppose the spectrum dipped far closer to 'angry' than 'frustrated' on the far side of the table, particularly where the Earthgov military officials were concerned.

I shot Hutch a short sharp glance of support, and thanks. I knew what he was doing. Suspected what he was about to do. It would save Alyra and Fyrenn a lot of headaches, and it would help open doors in the rest of our negotiations.

Xaelus rose, and levelled a finger at Hutch as if the sheer force of the action would somehow strike him down on the spot. The demanding nature of his tone matched the gesture, and his affronted-old-white-entiled-male expression perfectly.

"The minimum terms *we* will accept as consequence for this man's war crimes? Are these; He is to be reduced in rank, dishonorably discharged from your 'JRSF,' his commendations and former rank in the Earthgov Military revoked, and his Earth citizenship cancelled."

"Done."

Hutch's words, underscored by the 'THUNK' of his rank insignia hitting the center of the table, shocked every being in the room, except perhaps me. And maybe Seyal. I'd noticed the chevrons clutched in his hand, rather than pinned to his collar.

I knew about his fast-track conversion slot in thirty minutes, that Fyrenn had graciously forced through.

And I had an idea he hadn't been exaggerating when he said he would ask Aston to marry him as soon as he saw her next. Given what had happened to her, two and two easily made four.

"I'll prepare and sign whatever affidavits anyone might need. I'll be off-planet before the end of next week at the latest. And you can bet your sorry asses I will never be back to darken the door of this hell-hole ever again. I don't feel comfortable sharing a planet with HLF shit-headed mass murderers who carry nuclear command codes."

Hutch could afford to take the heat. His mind was made up. I didn't wholly agree with his exact feelings, but in no way did I blame him. He'd been through hell for the planet more than once, and very nearly laid down his life on several occasions. It was a vile disgrace that he'd nearly died at the hands of his own former colleagues, and that the consequence of his justified defensive actions would be an ignominious end to steller service.

It would also make very little difference to the man's happiness, or the future centuries of his life as a Gryphon, while making an enormous amount of difference to our negotiations, by giving the Earthgov a punching bag to crucify in-effigy. He knew that, and he'd decided to do what any good soldier would do when sacrifice could secure victory.

Hutch grinned, and offered a mock left-hand salute to Xaelus' color-drained, defeated face, and then to Force Captain Sommers' confused scowl.

"Fuck you, fuck you..."

Hutch continued to mock-salute each of the Earthgov military officers on the other side of the table.

"Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you. To everyone else in this room, thank you all very much, and if you need me, you can come see me sometime this evening after the feathers are in, and I've re-learned how to stand without making a fool of myself."

Dammit Hutch. The antagonism is *un*-helpful. Though not underserved, and all things considered not likely to make a big difference to the important outcomes.

He smiled down at me, and proffered a tip of his standard issue uniform cap.

"Janet. Come find me later, Aston and I would love to take you up on your previous offer for official services."

I smiled warmly in return, and nodded, before fixing my eyes on Xaelus and his entourage of Military officials, drinking in the confusion, anger, and frustration as Hutch strode blithely out of the room, tossing off one last proper right-handed and genuine salute to his JRSF former-colleagues.

Seyal raised one eye crest, allowing the terse silence to lengthen to the edge of discomfort before leaning forward over the table, grinning, and seizing control of the conversation.

"So. First concession down, and that before breakfast. Let's talk about strategic weapons."

Hutch

I'm not prone to crying. I got no issue with the viewpoint that men should cry freely when they want to. I agree whole-heartedly. But I'd just never had a whole lot of cause to.

I'd cried over Aston's body when they first brought her in. I'd cried uncontrollably. I shivered involuntarily. I knew I was never gonna forget the feeling that had hit me when I saw her cradled in Fyrenn's forelegs, a hole shot straight through her... Not even breathing anymore...

I've always been a 'church three times a year, only pray when the shit hits the fan' kinda guy... But I honestly believe in that moment that only God's grace kept me from just dying on the spot. I still think I would've if she hadn't pulled through. And I think that was a miracle and a gift from God too.

Maybe it was time for me to explore a little more faith in somethin' besides myself, and the service. Lord knows both had let me down far too many times recently...

Apparently Gryphons are big on faith, but not frivolous religiosity. So that meant I was headin' to the right place. Maybe it was the fear of what God might say to me if I talked to him, sure, but it was also the hollow and twisted plasticy fakeness of 'church' in most places I'd tried to attend that put me off.

Maybe I just needed to find the sort of fellowship where relationships meant more than liturgy, and where a man could cry openly before God.

Fyrenn's expression?

That was making it pretty hard for me not to cry in the moment. For plenty of bitter-sweet reasons.

When I'd met the guy, I'd been sure I'd be ringing him up on disciplinaries for his attitude. He'd obviously wanted to deck me for trying to keep him out of the loop on that first ever crate of Gryphon potion, and his brother Kephic almost had come to blows with me, though they'd barely known each other back then.

And there we were three years later... Three long years of trust, and friendship... I wouldn't quite have thought of him as a son, and I don't think he saw me as a father per-se... But it was closer to that than not. Maybe like a really close uncle with a favorite nephew, or a godfather with a godson. A kind of partial father-son relationship in its own way.

I felt like a fool, dressed in nothing but my birthday suit draped in a paper-thin biophobic medical gown, that felt awful on my skin. And him looking like the picture of magnificent mythical elegance. And sporting a second of Neyla's crest feathers on the other side of his head to match the first.

He thought he was keeping it so secret, and on the down-low. But I knew what he'd done. He'd finally gotten smart, and made the only right choice. He was more or less glowing. Somethin' in his head had broken loose, and a little dark piece of him that had been there ever since I knew him, diminished as it was over the years by his brothers and the others, was finally completely and wholly gone.

He reached out with one foreleg to grip my hand and arm in that medieval thing that all Gryphons seemed to like so much. To my surprise, he then rested his forehead on mine, the warm feathers of his crest tickling ever so slightly, and his words resonating right down through my bones.

"I can't think of any Human I know who is more suited for this. You're family to me, Hutch... I'm not ashamed or afraid to admit that I look up to you. And I love you. I've been waiting for this day for a long time. I'm so, so happy for you."

The waterworks started up then. I just couldn't keep it down. He pulled his head back, and I could see hints of tears in his eyes too.

Damn.

I'd always wanted kids, but never found the time... Maybe he was more of a son to me than I'd realized. And I a father to him. His next words sure gave that impression too.

"I want you and Aston to join our clan. Be a part of our family. I'm through with surrendering to fear, or compromise. Neyla, and Alyra, and I... Kephic, Varan... Skye... Stan and IJ if they're willing... We're going to put our beaks, and noses, to making a better world over there. Together. As a family. Actively. One where none of these horrors will ever overshadow innocents ever again. With no room for fear, bigotry, or mistreatment. Come with us... It'd be great for Alyra to have godparents... Grandparents."

I nodded slowly, trying to work the tears out of my eyes with my free hand, then patting him on one of those enormous feathered shoulders as he released the arm-lock. What he was offering was like a man holding out peace, rest, and food to someone starved, marooned, and exhausted as they finally stepped over the threshold and made it home...

"I gotta talk to the missus-soon-to-be, but she's already been talking about sticking close to folks we know. I think she'll be all for it. She's warmed back up to you, she's a kindred spirit to Neyla, and she loves the ki-- Alyra. Not such a 'kid' anymore I guess..."

He nodded in turn, and inclined his head, placing a comforting claw on my shoulder as he spoke.

"Thank you. I heard what you did... You spared her a lot of potential future grief. People are going to remember what she did for a long time... Some of them are going to resent it, and carry that resentment through to Equestria when its their time. Thank you."

I snorted, and patted the side of his foreleg.

"Hey? What is family for if not for coverin' for a little shenanigans with strategic weapons now and again? It was time for me to stop holding on to the past. This job? It's been killing me these past couple of years, Fyrenn. I don't want to stop holding command, or defending people... But... I just..."

He folded one wing around me and dropped to a seated position at my side, finishing my thought with perfect clarity.

"You can't stand to bleed any more blood for this soil when every time you make five steps towards saving the place, the dipshits make ten steps back. And you can't stand to watch the ones who care have no power to make a difference, and the ones who have power make it abundantly clear that they don't care."

I nodded, and scratched thoughtfully at the back of my head as I collected one last thought to add to the pile.

"In Human terms? I'm gettin' too old for this by half. Time for younger, fresher fighters to carry that particular torch. There's not much future left for this planet anyway. We're not gonna miss anything that we'd want to see, or that either of us could do much to soften. Better for someone less controversial, and more optimistic, to step into that breach and try to cushion the landing."

He sighed deeply, as if what I'd said had given him some kind of release too. We were both alike that way. We hated to stand back and let someone else try to put out the fires. But I knew as well as he did... It was the only play that made any sense anymore.

"Aston said she didn't exactly dream, because of the way that she had a double dose, and her process went faster. They say that's why its taking her a little more time to get her head and her body lined up... Will I dream?"

Fyrenn nodded, and tilted his head slightly, as if lost in his own warm memory of the moment.

"Yes. It's an amazing experience. Something you'll cherish your whole life after. It's not long... You'll feel like almost no time has passed once the disorientation lifts... You're sure you want me to stay with you? They say that the process can pass genes across from other Gryphons in proximity, if you share a close bond. The manner of sharing matches the manner of the bond, or bonds. That's why Alyra..."

I could feel a big fat grin filling my face. I'd always wondered how that worked, and I couldn't resist a little good natured ribbing.

"So *that's* why she looks so much like the both of ya. Poor kid."

He chuckled, and ever so slightly batted me with his wing. I decided I very much liked the level of informality we could reach as family first, warriors second, and officers distant third. I sighed, and nodded slowly as I dipped back into a more serious tone.

"Yes. I'm sure. If it means I'll come out related to you like an uncle... Or a father... I'd be honored."

Somethin' about the idea started up both our tear ducts again, and we sat in familial, emotional silence for a good ten minutes, before the attending physician, a Zebra with a perfectly fitted gray lab coat, popped into the isolation room with a familiar looking paper cup filled with a glowing golden liquid.

I made my way across to the biobed, shaped to hold first a Human, then a Gryphon, and lay down on my stomach. Fyrenn had already given me that little pointer, based on his own experiences.

"Alright then. Let's get the rest of my life started, shall we?"

Neyla

Just before we'd started the landing sequence, Fyrenn had taken another of my primaries for his crest, and I had finally reached a moment I'd dreamed of for years, taking two of his for mine.

I'd almost missed the beauty of the sunrise during the high altitude portion of the approach. I was too busy looking at my reflection in the canopy.

After landing, we'd splayed out on the Shrike's warm wings with a blanket, shared the bottle of soda and sandwiches he'd packed for our picnic, and watched as planes came and went from the facility's runways.

We'd talked in breathless terms about shared dreams for the future. Dreams we both knew others would want to soon share with us. Dreams of a clan like nothing else that had ever been seen in either world. Dreams of a little home high in a distant mountain redwood, far beyond the frontier, facing south so we could see each sunrise and sunset in equal measure, just a twenty second flight from a keep standing watch over the whole valley.

Dreams of a place where everyone who could be open, and share in fellowship, would be welcome. With a home for all who needed it, and hundreds of children of all kinds, Native and Convert, rolling and tumbling and roughousing together through a highland glen with a view to take the breath from you with every shift in the light.

Dreams of celebrating Alyra's hatch-day as a fully fledged family for the first time.

And all the while each of us nestled as close together as we'd ever been physically, my left wing over his back, his right foreleg around my neck, our tails entwined, sides pressed together, breathing in synchronization, and spending far too much time staring into each other's eyes.

We had so much lost time to make up for, both in terms of the time we'd known each other, and in terms of all we'd suffered even before that.

It was a gift like nothing anyone but the Creator could have ever given... To express the love I felt, and have him accept it! To have him express the same in return unabashedly, unafraid, and to accept it in turn!

As full and proper morning came, gray and dull as always at Earth's surface elevations, he'd asked me to go to Alyra while he tended to other matters. I knew neither of us would be able to sleep for some time, and I didn't envy him any of the tasks I guessed he'd set for himself.

I padded softly into the room, laid myself down beside Alyra... Very soon to be *my* daughter, in name, and truly, for all time, not just informally... The very thought brought tears to my eyes... And then I'd tried to get some waking rest, matching my breathing to hers and just glorying in the moment.

Only a half hour passed, and her eyes fluttered open. She yawned, stretched, and noticed with a groggy but luminous smile that it was I, not her father, whose wing she was cuddled up under.

And then she noticed her father's feathers in my crest. Her brain was fast, and the speed with which she went from slowly building average morning energy, up to an excitement that might as well have been lightning in a bottle, was incredible.

She almost knocked me off the bed, her embrace hit me so hard, wings and forelegs wrapped around my neck as if I would vanish, and she would wake up to find it had all been a dream, cruelly snatched away by dawn's light, if she didn't hold tightly enough.

She didn't so much say anything coherent as she let out something like a fit of glorious laughter, mixed with occasional heaving sobs. And then she finally got out one word that brought about sobs of my own. A word she'd never said fully aloud directly to me in anything but a half-joking manner, always catching herself. A word I knew she used privately for me, internally, with much more earnestness. Holding back in hope, and fear, for a day that had finally come.

"Mom!"

I folded my wings about her, and held her there for almost another half hour, laughing, crying, laughing again, breathing deeply and quietly as we matched heartbeats and tried to just get our heads and our hearts around the whole huge scope of the truth... She was mine. And I was hers. We were his, he was ours. All was going to be exactly as it should be.

Home can be a strong sense of place. But also of people. In that moment, the high flying surreality of accepted proposal, and dancing in starlight, finally gave way to a golden-hued sense of true reality. The memories slotted into place as something hat had *happened,* truly, along with the softness and joy of the present.

And I felt as though I had come *home* for the first time in my entire life.

Skye

That sneaky little no good, stuck up, scruffy... CAT-BIRD! He'd thought I wouldn't notice!! Oooh, the NERVE! Or maybe he knew I'd notice, and just wanted to see my reaction...

I'd spotted the second blue feather in his crest instantly. I may 'only' be a Unicorn, but I *have* eyes, and they work above average for my species, thank-you-very-much!

I rushed forward and prodded his chest with one hoof to get him to dip his head so I could see better. My magic wouldn't lock on to him, Gryphon that he was, or I'd've yanked his head down straight away.

"Oh my CELESTIA! It happened! It finally happened, and... Did you two finally kiss, and I WASN'T THERE TO SEE IT?! "

He actually had the gall to give me a grin, and a wink! I couldn't be truly mad at him. I was so excited it was hard not to lose all self control and lock the big lunk over with a hug. Still, it had taken him far to long to sort himself out, and as the closest thing he had to a younger sibling, I felt I had a solemn duty to poke, prod, rib, and irritate him in good natured fashion as much as possible to make up for that void in his life.

Finally I gave in, dropped my mock pouty lip, and pressed my head into his side for a hug. He put one wing over my back in that way that made me wish he was my big brother, instead of the awful rump-horn that I had 'officially' 'by-blood.'

"We want to have a ceremony as soon as we can get back home. Something very small, just family; You, Stan, IJ, Kephic, Varan, Hutch, Aston, Sildinar... Probably the King and Queen, but only if they promise not to make much of it and turn it into something larger and showier. I think Neyla will ask you to play a part for her in the ceremony, but I don't want to say anything else and spoil any surprise she has planned."

I turned and poked my head out from under his wing to look up at him. He was clearly the happiest I'd ever seen him, except for maybe when he'd first got the feathers, and when Alyra had first gotten hers. It felt good to see him free-er. At peace.

Breath filled my lungs to ask the question I'd been meaning to put to him, on and off, for years.

But it sounded stupid in my head the second the thought really crystallized.

What Gryphon would want a Pony in their clan? That was something so rare, I'd only ever seen mention twice in a history book. And why would he, or I, want to bother with any of the official fol-de-rol when I was already as close to being an official little sister to him as one could get, without it being official?

A much smaller voice at the back of my brain tried to poke through; Is that really your best excuse you foalish little filly? Is it really that you don't want to 'inconvenience' anybody, or is it just the same kind of hang-up you bothered him about for three years?

Is it really stupid? Or are you just afraid?

Are you really worried about cultural nonsense... Or is it because of all those bad memories of---

I got a lock on the little voice and squeezed until it choked out of existence. Just like always. Much better. No distractions. We had a busy day to get to, and I needed a clear head to do my job.

With a warm, genuine smile, I nodded, and stepped out from under his wing. I was so happy for him, and Neyla, and Alyra...

He didn't say anything, but I think he'd caught something behind my eyes... The expression he gave me managed to breathe life back into that little insistent voice.

Just ask him. He already treats you like a sister. Why not go all in on that? Officially get rid of the 'blood ties' of the old ass-wipes, and put the past to bed? You want in on that warm fuzzy family? You want to spend the rest of your life with them, and have three big brothers, a big sister, and a favorite niece for-realsies?

He'd take you in a heartbeat. They all would... Just ask!

Ok, fine... But not today. Today there's work to be done.

I shook myself, and gestured down the hall with one hoof. Fyrenn fell into step beside me.

"Honestly? I'm so happy I could *burst* feathers! But before we can get to the 'happily ever after' part, we have some work to do. I stayed up all night working on a new twist on an old spell, and I think I can manage what we need to get some answers."

He nodded as we rounded the corner, and started the check-in process for the secure area beyond the corridor's huge double blast doors. A Gryphon and a Pegasus stood guard in Genesist armor, eyeing us calmly, but carefully, as we both provided DNA samples, eye scans, and typed passcodes to the doors' access pad, each in turn.

"It hasn't said anything since it woke up?"

I shook my head as the doors began to slide open at last, waiting until we were firmly on the other side before continuing the conversation. As I talked, we walked down the darker gray, more thickly armored hallway. The floor began to slope as we passed underground.

"It made some pretty awful sounds... Tried to hurt Astris' body, but the security team put it into gel-padded restraints after that. Everything in the room is as Thaumophobic as it gets, so no easy way out through any magic tricks. Besides, it's got a twenty-four-seven Gryphon guard to clamp down on any shenanigans, and the spell I left inside Astris' head seems to be preventing it from cutting loose and getting out that way... Although I'd rather we just let it go, or killed it after this. Astris has suffered enough."

It had taken far less convincing from Fyrenn than I'd have expected for Martins to agree to his plan; Hold the Wisp inside Astris' head in-place until I could devise a spell that would let me link up with it, and sift its mind for useful intel.

I had expected... Hoped... That Martins would overrule him. I think in a way he had too.

I knew we all hated the idea of that thing being inside his head a moment longer... I guess Fyrenn just had a better emotional grip on the stakes. How important the information was that we could potentially extract from a trapped live Wisp.

And we had no other way to contain the thing besides Astris' body, let alone trying to find a way to link up to it if it wasn't latched onto another Unicorn. That was the lynchpin of my whole strategy.

We finally reached our destination. I could tell Fyrenn didn't like being underground, in spite of the twelve foot ceilings. Or maybe it was just the idea of what we were about to do. Or just some dark melange of both.

Lucapa didn't have a dedicated high security brig, just a small light-duty facility that rarely saw use, mostly dealing with petty crimes and the occasional similar bad behaviour you always get when you toss a bunch of stressed people together in a concrete maze.

Martins' security department had been forced to convert an Antimatter warhead storage room. And given what the thing inside Astris had tried to do, they'd wisely cleared the entire wing of the facility of anything more explosive than an over-pressurized ketchup packet.

It took several more minutes of fiddling with access credentials and biometrics, and at last the heavy blast-resistant door to the chamber itself dropped away into the floor. The room was divided in half by a heavy transparisteel barrier, with a small steel door in it. A hastily assembled prefab.

On our side was a small metal table, a couple of multispecies chairs, and nothing else whatsoever. On the other side, bolted to the floor and ceiling, a medical restraint device designed for use on Ponies during surgery.

Inside Astris. And inside him, the Wisp. His eyes never seemed to stop glowing telltale red, not since we'd captured him at least.

Leaning against one wall, a very alert female Gryphon in the heaviest armor Genesis could provide, was pointing the largest particle rifle that I'd ever seen right square at the point between Astris' eyes, just beneath the base of his horn.

I winced involuntarily. Fyrenn put one wing over my back again, and came to an abrupt stop.

"I want to tell you we don't have to do this... But I am not about to throw away our best chance at finding the Nightmare. The sooner we end this war? The fewer people are going to die, and the sooner we can get to that 'happily ever after.' I'm sorry that there's no one else I can ask to do this. With any luck, he will be free after this, and we'll know exactly where to put that last antimatter warhead."

He was right. Fyrenn never asked anything of anyone that he wasn't willing to put himself through... And he'd put himself through a lot worse than what he was asking of either me, or Astris. And like all of his kind, he never made a consequential decision without carefully weighing the costs and outcomes.

I nodded firmly, and nudged the base of his wing with the side of my head.

"It's ok. We need what it knows, and we can get it, and then we can let it out, and I'll blast it to little bitty subatomic giblets. Typical average Saturday's work."

He crooked me to his side for a moment with his wing, then folded it away, and rapped lightly on the transparisteel with a fisted claw. The Gryphoness inside the chamber unlocked the connecting door, and exchanged places with us, offering only a silent salute.

She closed the connecting door, then excused herself out into the corridor, taking up a guard position by the exterior access hatch. Once the main blast door had fully closed, I finally sat down across from Astris' body, and set to work.

The Wisp inside watched silently as I started my spellweave, piercing me with an unnerving glare that was probably intended to break my concentration. Yeah. As if.

Fyrenn sat on his haunches just over my left shoulder, forelegs crossed, glowering right back at the Wisp with a much more intimidating expression. I felt perfectly safe. I'd;ve felt perfectly safe if I'd been locked in with the thing alone, and unrestrained. I could out-duel any Unicorn, with the possible exception of Twisprite Spangle, or whatever her name was.

As I reached the last part of the spellweave, I opened one eye, and glanced up at Fyrenn.

"I can't link you to the network I'm forming, for obvious reasons. But I can project your image and voice into it, and I can project what I'm seeing and hearing into the room. You sure you're ok to come with?"

He nodded, and smiled ever so slightly, returning his gaze to the Wisp as he answered.

"No sense in you going alone. I want to see this for myself. And I want to be there for you if you need me."

I exhaled slowly, and began to reach out with a tendril of white, teal, and blue magic towards Astris' horn.

"Ok. Here goes..."

Chapter 20 Author's Note

\\ WARNING: This chapter is extremely dark \\

Trigger Warnings:
If you are disturbed by the descriptions of bodily possession by an outside entity, torture, Hell on Earth, and/or the assisted suicide of an individual for merciful purposes, you should consider skipping this chapter outright.

This was one of the hardest things I've ever written. For the large part it was not particularly enjoyable to write, but I hope that it will contribute on the whole to an enjoyable story in totality.

Chapter 20

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 11th, Gregorian Calendar

Skye

For a good few seconds all I could see was darkness. It took longer than I'd expected for the spell to resolve what I wanted to get at as something both Fyrenn and I could visually understand. A tiny tendril of the weave stayed behind at the tip of my horn, projecting what I could see and hear for him as a ghostly, but fairly resolute full color image with sound.

In turn, I constantly imaged him, and piped the feed from my ears into the mind-space, resulting in a fairly substantial image of him sitting right beside me, complete with his voice.

"Amazing..."

I opened the eyes of my own projection, and grinned, rising to my hooves.

"We're past the first wall. This is just a sort of antechamber of the mind that represents a bridge between Astris' and mine..."

I gestured with a hoof as a silhouette emerged from the omnipresent fog at the edges of the space.

"I have to get through *that* before we can make the rest of the connection-proper."

Fyrenn let out a low growl, and moved into a ready stance as the bony, familiar, scorpion-tailed shape came fully into view. A representation of the Wisp's internal mental defenses, not too different in composition, and inner workings, from my own projection.

And bigger, and stronger looking than I'd anticipated. Bigger than any real Wisp. It was actually slightly larger than Fyrenn, and heavily armored in black crystalline plating. As it fixed each of us in turn with the red glow of its eye sockets, I wished that Fyrenn could have been there directly in the link.

His mind was so strong, and aggressive, right down to the way it was physically patterned, that it would have more than evened up the fight...

Patterns. Interesting idea... I reached out for a half-second to see if the thought had any merit, and was surprised to find little or nothing standing in my way. Huh...

I turned and held up a hoof.

"Hey, red... Is it ok if I scan your brain?"

He raised one eyebrow crest, never taking his eyes off the Wisp as it slowly began to circle us, pawing at the nondescript glossy black surface of the 'ground' occasionally with one hoof. It couldn't make the first move, I had to be the one to engage, because of the way I'd structured the link. It could approach, but nothing more, until I struck the first blow.

"Of... Course you may... Is that even possible?"

I nodded, and began to rethread the appropriate sections of the spell to achieve the desired effect, closing my projection's eyes as I did so to facilitate concentration. I could barely spare a few cells of my brain to answer.

"Yes. I can't read your mind, or anything like that. But I can see and copy the physical patterns of your brain, same as an FMRI. The same way they make AI's. I can use those patterns to strengthen my projection. Make this an even fight."

I let silence fall as I began to chip away at the most complicated part of the modification. Almost there, I could just see the bit I needed, change this segment out for that one and---

YIKES!

I'd known the change would affect the visual representation of my projection, but I hadn't expected the sensations.

I suppose I should've, I was literally temporarily remolding the expression of my brain's patterns to match the base patterns of another species in real-time. I was making my brain act like a Gryphon brain. Feel like a Gryphon brain. Fight like a Gryphon brain.

As always the dull, very distant sense of my physical body was still there, and still attached to me... But the sensations of my projection, until that point decidedly familiar and Equine, changed suddenly in a burst of blue light.

Fyrenn blinked, and tilted his head slowly. A sly grin began to spread across his beak as I glanced down to take stock of my own new feathers... Tan, just like my coat, with streaks of blue in my head, primaries, and tailfan that matched my mane...

The spitting image of what I would have looked like as a Gryphoness, complete with surprisingly accurate and concrete sensations. I felt my new head crest rising reflexively in curiosity as I flexed the talons of first one claw, then the other.

"This... Is absolutely trippy..."

I mantled my new wings, and stared at the left one, mesmerized by the sensation of a limb that hadn't been there a moment before.

"So this is what it's like to be one of you... Wow! I can see why you like the wings so much..."

Fyrenn chuckled, and tilted his head back in the opposite direction as he finally found words to reply with.

"You know, you make a really pretty Gryphon... But don't ever change. You're a prodigy with that horn of yours, and your skill with it has saved us more times now than I care to count."

I lowered my head, and narrowed my eyes, trying for that 'teacher looking over spectacles' expression that I'd seen him do so many times when he wanted to say 'really?' without saying it out loud.

"I would love to be able to fly. But I'd be content to have one of those power armor suits, or something that can fly the same way. I wouldn't want to *be* a Gryphon, or an Alicorn, or a Pegasus full time... Absolutely no offense..."

Internally, I winced. That had still come off a little more snippy than I intended. Best to clarify...

"...That being said? I always wanted to know what it was like, just for a bit. And I have to admit, it is nice to be able to see you eye-to-eye. Is this the sense of power all you bigger taller species feel all the time?"

He chuckled, and then gestured to the Wisp figure as it continued to circle, visibly frustrated.

"You might start to get a real idea once you put those claws to use... I'm right here if you need pointers."

Nice pun. I smirked, and shook my head, cracking the knuckles of my claws as I stood to my new hind legs. That was immensely satisfying. I could see why Humans, Gryphons, and dragons were always doing it.

"Thanks, but I think I've got it from here. This isn't a physical fight; The little dance that's about to play out is just a visual avatar for something much more complicated. Appreciate the offer though."

I squared up, and spread my wings slightly further, holding both claws in a velociraptor style 'ready position' that I'd seen both Humans and Gryphons use.

"Bring it, bone-head. I've tangled with much worse than you."

I lashed out with one claw, and the opposite wing, both limbs connecting with immensely satisfying jolts.

I had to admit; Visual abstract representation or not, hitting something so deserving of the pain with outstretched talons was *very* very cathartic.

Fyrenn

It was very strange to see Skye in Gryphon form. I had to choke back a completely situationally inappropriate chuckle as I realized that actually made her the second person I'd seen take a Gryphon form, without actually becoming one.

Even if IJ's moment had only been a few seconds of demonstration, it had stuck with me for the sheer strangeness of the concept. The concern I'd once felt had mostly melted away. I trusted IJ to take whatever shape she wanted, including that of my own kind.

I wished in that moment that she was there to help. I knew Skye was extremely skilled in mind magic, but IJ had been spawned into a Hive, grown up with the concept, and could now tap a level of power that approached a young Alicorn's.

The two of them had already shown what they could do together when they'd killed a Hive Queen, freeing IJ's Hive in the process. Not a small feat of quite literal mental gymnastics.

Not that Skye was having any trouble holding her own against the Wisp's mental defenses. It didn't quite look the way I might've expected; Less a real fight between a Gryphon and an extra large Wisp, more of a cinematic engagement as seen and interpreted through the eyes of a Unicorn who had watched real fights between Gryphons Wisps.

It was the same feeling I always had as a former Marine, watching Human-made action films. Elements of the familiar, twisted through the director's lens to fit a cinematic expression rather than a realistic one.

Same as the action flicks, it was certainly fun to watch Skye beat the piss out of the Wisp's own mental projection, whether entirely realistic or not.

If the visual representation of the way her wings, talons, and beak were tearing into the enemy was an indication, the actual lines of mental attack she was pursuing were catastrophically aggressive.

My fear started to run less to the idea that she might lose, and more to the idea that she might somehow damage the Wisp's mind in her fury.

She knows what she's doing. Relax. Learn to let others do what they do best. Trust your family.

Family... I certainly had not missed the look she shot me, peering out from under one of my wings. I think she knew that too. But neither of us had pressed the issue. I couldn't say for sure what was going through her head, but for my part, I'd simply let it go because I couldn't quite work out enough to draw any useful conclusions.

I needed useful conclusions before I could safely press on anything, especially a sensitive issue.

One thing I knew more or less for certain; It probably had a lot to do with her families. The one she was unofficially in with the rest of us, the herd she'd been with for several years before she emigrated to Earth, and then her biological family...

Every tiny sliver of data I'd been able to gather on that subject could fill a thimble... If you packed the thimble nine tenths with padding first. But the overwhelming emotional range that seemed to be associated with her biological family was negativity.

That thought brought back more than a little stress of my own that I certainly didn't need to be sparring with in the middle of a critical mission. Alyra was gaining a mother, out and out... She doubtless was awake by now, and knew that...

Would that change her reaction when she saw her biological... I couldn't bring myself to associate the word 'father' with the man. Progenitor, perhaps. Gene donor.

I'd already set everything in motion to give her the power to choose. I'd placed a request with Martins' head logistics officer, first thing after I'd parted ways with Neyla. I knew I had to do it before the courage and warm afterglow of a proposal accepted started to fade...

The Genesists would see to his transport. Probably were seeing to it at that very moment. If Alyra wanted to meet him, he would be there. Tonight.

If not, they'd pack him off quietly and make sure he made no further fuss.

Focus, Fyrenn. It's out of your claws now, as it should be. Trust God. Trust your daughter. Focus on the problems of the moment.

I managed to force my mind back to the present right as Skye elbow-slammed the Wisp projection's skull into a fine powdered dust. I replayed the rest of the fight in my head as the defending projection vanished. Fantastic finisher to cap off an excellent bout, all things considered.

She picked herself up gingerly, dusting off her chest feathers with her claws, then sticking her tongue out the side of her beak, and squinting in concentration. The next moment, a familiar tan and blue Unicorn stood where the eerily familiar Gryphoness had been.

I smiled as she gestured with a hoof towards the distant foggy image of a bridge.

"Solid form, for a Pony!"

She stuck out her tongue at the words, this time as a gesture directed fully at me. I snorted, and fell into step behind her as she tossed her mane, and muttered aloud.

"You *wish* you could look that cool when you go in for the kill."

Dammit. She was right.

Little sisters can be so annoying.

Skye

As we crossed over the bridge, a nondescript ugly thing made of something resembling onyx that reflected the utilitarian construction of the spell underneath, echoes of memory began to filter past.

I was too focused on reaching the end of the bridge to really pick up on details, but I was able to get the gist.

A charmed, quiet foalhood. Loving parents doting on their only son. A string of fantastic academic successes. A prestigious series of relationships with Earth-side universities. A stand-out moment of clarity meeting Councilor Martins for the first time.

Charming. Apparently Mr. Perfect had the kind of foalhood most nerds could only dream of, and an academic career worth more than a couple PhDs.

Other intense images and sounds mixed into the daily blur and grind of work, each tied to a moment when the Genesis project had caught a big break. The first real rounds of funding. The discovery of a habitable target zone. The lightspeed barrier breakthrough.

I stiffened as Fyrenn put out a wing to stop me. The limb was insubstantial to me, but I still reflexively skidded to a halt, and shot him an annoyed, probing glance. Sightseeing at this point was an unnecessary distraction. We were there for the Wisp's memories, not Astris' almost-too-perfect life.

And aside from the need for efficiency, and speed... I didn't really want to look any closer. Too many reminders of the foalhood I could have never had.

"I think this is it. This is the moment he was... Implanted."

I wanted to see the horror of that moment even less than the joys of the others that I so envied... But we were there for information. It was important to know.

I steeled myself, and then turned to focus on the hazy image Fyrenn had picked out amongst the cacophony of other memories. The little window expanded and sharpened, until we suddenly found ourselves standing on a street corner.

The area was awash in emergency lights. Military Police. Ambulances. Potential Crystallization teams.

Fyrenn turned in a wide circle, and began to nod slowly as Astris, Martins, several other Humans, and a group of staggering Ponies were escorted from a building across the street by a gaggle of beings in full isolation suits.

"London. This happened in March. Earlier this year... I read the incident report. We arrived on Earth only a day after this happened... The PER potion-bombed a Genesist board meeting..."

The memory followed Astris into the back of a waiting ambulance. Standard procedure after a Potion attack; Check *everyone* for indications of allergic reaction, or miscellaneous injuries sustained in the ensuing panic.

The space of the memory suddenly constricted to a tiny two by five by three meter box as the Ambulance doors swung closed.

Oh. Not good.

The sight of what was waiting up against the vehicle's back wall made my stomach turn.

Astris hadn't noticed until the doors were closed. And by then it was far too late. As Veritas stepped out of the shadowed end of the compartment, two armor clad Diamond Dogs leapt from the spaces adjacent to the doors, snagging the Unicorn in an inescapable claw-grip from both sides.

A flash from Veritas' horn was all it took, and Astris lost all muscle control. Awake. Aware. Helpless.

I didn't want to watch. I knew Fyrenn didn't either. But he needed to see. And I had to keep watching, or he wouldn't be able to see.

If I was being honest, I needed to see as well. Astris was a Unicorn. His memories contained more for me than the mere visual and auditory stuff I was projecting for Fyrenn. They contained his feelings and impressions of the magic done in his vicinity. And to him.

If he'd been awake for the entire process, I might learn something about the way the Wisp bonded to the host that could be useful in removing it, and maybe even protecting against possession in the first place...

That hope gave me enough impetus to keep my eyes, and my arcane sense, locked firmly on the horror that was playing out with frightening speed before us.

Lights snapped on at full intensity. A vertical tube, not unlike a cryogenics pod, was suddenly thrown from gray shadow into harsh white relief. The strange machine perched on top of the cylinder was thrumming with a pent up arcanic signature that almost made Astris' head hurt.

Under Veritas' direction, the Diamond Dogs deposited Astris into the tube gingerly, almost gently, and then pressed the glass aperture closed behind him.

Suddenly the memory was little more than a window out into the ambulance from the inside of the tube. As frost began to form on the glass, the last thing Astris saw of the outside world was her sick, terrifying leer.

I wanted to kill her more in that moment than I had even when she'd shot Aston... Though honestly it was a close contest either way. I couldn't help myself. I snarled. Not a common sound to come from a Pony muzzle.

Guess that's whatcha get when you put a filly through the kind of foalhood I had, and then follow that up with a lotta time spent around Gryphons.

As the machine came fully to life, I could feel Astris' panic reflected in his frantic attempts to reach out with his deadened hooves. His blocked magic. Something. Anything.

But he couldn't even scream as the beam of Thaumatic energy pierced his skull. As frost formed on his coat while the tube chilled to allow superconductors to do their grim work. As an alien presence began to filter into his mind, borne into him through that piercing, frigid purple-blue ray of light.

I could feel every second. The intense sensations of white-hot pain. Of loss. Of tingling prickling strangeness as the mind of something other, and menacing, began to flex itself out into Astris' thoughts, memories, feelings, and finally, his body itself.

All at once the pain stopped. But the horror didn't.

As the machine spun down, and the chamber began to heat back to room temperature, the glass finally slid away. Astris dropped to all fours, shakily at first, and then with growing confidence. Fyrenn couldn't see or sense it, but he must've known.

I, on the other hoof, could feel Astris' pain, his fear, his outright panic, as he reached once again for his limbs. For his horn.

To his lips, to scream.

And nothing happened.

The Wisp was in control. And to any external observer, there wouldn't be even a tiny thing out of place to betray the presence of the demon nestled just behind the young Unicorn's horn.

The memory faded abruptly, mercifully taking the unspeakably violating sensation of an outside mind driving Astris' body with it.

Suddenly we were standing in a grassy field on a hillside, a star-filled sky above our heads, a cool spring breeze whipping across the knoll. I recognized the stars. Equestria.

And I recognized the Unicorn sitting dejectedly in the center of the green expanse.

Astris turned, and sighed. Fyrenn opened his beak, probably to ask a dozen questions, but Astris beat him to the answers. His voice sounded so... Broken.

I shuddered involuntarily. I'd heard that note of despair-without-hope before. Too many times.

"For the first few hours, the hope was the worst part. I just knew, deep down, that somehow Martins would figure it out. Or one of my colleagues, or my subordinates in the lab... I don't suppose I really truly gave up all at once... The hope just sort of... Slipped away."

He rose, and made his way towards Fyrenn and I, looking morosely to each of us in turn.

"It knew me. As well as I knew myself. It reached in and just... Sifted. Every single thought. Every last memory. Every emotion. Every hope, and fear, desire, dream, and longing. It was flawless in its performance. And I had to watch. I could never look away. Every second the body was awake I was... Chained. Bound to my own senses..."

Sounds and images streamed past in the sky. Humans and Ponies shot. Strangled. Burned. Each incident made to look like an accident with painstaking care. Consistent rendezvous with operatives. The construction of the bombs.

The moment the Shenzhou's device had detonated.

I could see the tears forming in Astris' eyes. I knew mine hadn't stopped since the moment I'd felt that... *thing* slither into his skull. Fyrenn looked ashen. At once both hollowed out, and kicked in the ribs.

Astris' voice broke as his confession tumbled out. I closed my eyes and winced, before opening them again. Fyrenn couldn't see if I couldn't see.

"It made me watch! I killed so many people! It used everything I knew! All the access I'd been given! Every last piece of trust granted to me... So much pain... So much damage..."

I dimly heard Fyrenn sit back hard on his haunches. I didn't know anything else to do; I leaned forward awkwardly and wrapped my front hooves around Astris' back. Let him lay his neck on mine and sob.

It felt like an eternity that we sat there. But finally, mercifully, Astris pulled back, and sniffed loudly to clear his nose. A faint glimmer of hope finally began to trickle into his eyes, and his voice.

"You're not just a figment of my imagination then! You're real?!"

I nodded, but it was Fyrenn who spoke. I couldn't find words. I must've just sat there nodding in silence for a moment too long.

"She has connected herself to you, and is sharing everything with me through a projection."

Astris' face visibly brightened, and his voice jumped up an octave.

"Aha! I had at first thought you were merely a fevered imagining of a breaking mind... I know Gryphons' minds have a peculiar immunity to telepathy, and the like... But that explanation makes sense! And it explains why I can't feel your presence quite like I can Skye's..."

His face fell once more, and his ears drooped. I didn't like the look of that expression. I liked his next works even less.

"You can not save me. The Wisp's presence is... Corrosive, to the link between the part of me that survives, and my body. I've been to the PER's central facility. I've seen them perform the procedure on others, both through my own eyes, and through the Wisp's Hive-link. If you can extract the parasite within a few days, or perhaps weeks... But after a couple of months, the bond between mind and body withers. Like tissue exposed to radiation."

He gestured absently with one hoof, and the sky filled with more gut-wrenching images. Hundreds of Ponies, thousands, many forced-converts of the PER, loaded methodically into tubes lining the walls of basement chambers.

The same macabre defiling of mind and body carried out over. And over. And over...

All the while Astris' voice provided explanation, in dull, almost lifeless tones. I could feel the blood draining out of my face. And the hope along with it.

"They exist as beings of pure energy. They have very little capacity to influence the physical world, and no means of experiencing any sensation, except for pure excruciation, in their natural state. The only way for them to escape that pain, and to feel pleasure, or anything else. For them to influence the corporeal world... Is to take a host body. And they can only take Ponies as hosts."

I could hear Fyrenn's breath suck in over the edge of his clenched beak. His muttered imprecation matched my dark thoughts exactly.

"God damn. They funded, built-up, and led the PER because they *wanted* Humans to convert in large numbers... They wanted---"

"More hosts."

The way Astris said the words chilled the blood in my veins. I was so afraid that there was more. And his next words made that fear manifest.

"They can do it much more easily in Equestria's magic rich environs. They don't need the machine there, but it still takes some time and effort. They prefer to do it while a Pony is sleeping, or can be restrained by others who are already infected... There are billions of them. And so they need billions of Ponies... They... They even..."

He bit back another sob, and shook his head, taking a moment to collect himself before continuing in the same dejected timbre.

"You'll see for yourself. I can't say it. I am so... Tired."

I swallowed hard. Reached out tentatively with my magic. I didn't want to know... But I had to. I gently probed the stem of Astris' brain, and then brushed over each hemisphere in turn.

Fyrenn tilted his head and raised one ear inquisitively. I shook my head slowly. Astris was right... Something essential had withered away, to be replaced by scarred, hardened cords. Not physically on the visible material level, but deep inside on a quantum level, somewhere so deep down that it sat at the bridge of the quantum, material, and Thaumatic realms.

Somewhere so deep down that no Human technology could detect it. And so deep down that no technology, nor magic that I knew of, could ever hope to fix it.

Astris shook his head, and exhaled slowly. I could almost hear a hint of hope buried under the resignation in his voice. Hope, I realized, that even if he couldn't be reconnected to his body, that soon his torment would... End.

"It is just as well. To access the Wisp's memories, and Hive-link connection, you will have to do several things that will have the net effect of overloading my physical brain. Death will be instantaneous, and painless. You will then be able to briefly access whatever you wish, before the cascade effect incinerates that... *thing.* And I... Will be free."

My breathing quickened. I could feel hot, angry tears starting up again. No. No, no, no... After all that... He expected me to---

I almost gagged on the thought...

To kill him. To kill him to get to what we wanted...

I suddenly felt a hoof under my chin as he gently raised my eyes to meet his. I could see empathy. And sadness. Desperation. A longing, begging stare...

"Please! Please, you have to do this! You have no idea what is at stake! Billions of lives! Fates that are far... FAR worse than death! And my own torment... I can not go ON like THIS! You don't have a choice. You are spared that! It is simple... Simple logic. *Please!*"

I choked back a sob, and my breathing quickened again, entering into hyperventilation territory. Not fair! It was hard enough for a Pony to learn to be violent at all. To ever strike out to kill another Pony? I'd heard of it, but it was so rare... So... Monstrous...

Astris swallowed, and pierced the ground with a sullen stare. His voice dropped back to a dead, hopeless register again. How was he even still cogent after everything he'd seen...? Everything he'd been forced to do...

"I... Would not want to live... With the things I have been used to accomplish. The things I have seen. You do me a mercy. A kindness. I am so... Sorry. To ask this of you is the smallest evil I have done... But it is an evil nonetheless."

I felt a slight prickle at my shoulder as Fyrenn laid a comforting claw on me in the real world, matching up with his apparition inside the link.

"I will do it. We can do without whatever might be gained... I can not ask you to do this. You don't have to do this. We are not doing this."

I shook my head violently, and a cry of pain escaped my lips aloud for the first time. Astris strode forward with a sudden urgency, and tried to bat at Fyrenn's apparition. His voice carried an intense desperation.

"No! You must see! There are things even I do not fully know, but which you will be able to access in those last moments! Things I have only inklings of... *Her* very inmost secret plans! And there are truths... If I but put them into mere words? No! You must *see,* so that she can in turn show it to others! They must SEE! Or else nothing will CHANGE! It will be TOO LATE! You have to show them! To make everyone else SEE!"

I could feel a rock forming in the pit of my stomach. I knew he was right. I'd known what would have to happen the second the words 'Fates far worse than death' had come out of his mouth.

I'd stood there and watched as Lantry died. There had been nothing I could do. Helpless. He made the sacrifice, and I was left behind to watch. I'd seen Fyrenn hesitate. Seen Gilchrist make to pull the trigger to end his life...

Helpless. Helpless to do anything, the same way Fyrenn had been in that moment. If Kephic hadn't been there?

I'd seen Stan crying over IJ's almost-lifeless body. Powerless to do anything to save her life in that moment...

Helpless.

If she had been just the tiniest bit weaker, or slower...

I remembered how helpless I'd felt in the Shenzhou Core Chamber. That blinding moment of clarity. I'd known exactly what I needed to do, how to do it, and how much time was left. I'd known the stakes. And I had been able to make a difference.

That moment I'd watched Gilchrist and Veritas put Fyrenn, Neyla, and the others behind the security barrier. Condemning them to die. Known exactly the right way to bring down the Thaumatic forcefield.

Made it just in time.

I knew that if I didn't do as Astris had asked, that I'd be standing by helplessly. Watching as Fyrenn quietly shed his tears... Embraced Astris over the shoulders with his wings... Flicked out a single talon, and laid it along the back of his next. Against his brain stem...

All that we could extract from that Wisp. From Veritas herself even. Information that might turn the tide... I'd seen how she fought. I'd heard the legends of Nightmare Moon. I had heard the others talk about their encounters with Wisps, and now I'd seen plenty for myself.

I could choose to either be helpless again... Or to make a difference.

And I knew that as hard as it would be to live with what I was going to have to do... That it would be far, far harder to live with the consequences of standing aside.

A solemn duty... In a flash, I understood what it really meant for the Human soldiers. For Fyrenn, and all of the Gryphons when they fought... For the Ponies in the JRSF, and Celestia and Luna's Guard...

Hard choices. Intractably hard choices.

I nodded slowly, and began to build the necessary changes to the link's spellweave. I didn't mean for my voice to come across so... Cold... But what else could I say?

"I will make it completely painless. Is there anything you want us to pass on, from you? To Martins?"

Astris nodded, and his tears flowed freely once more. The expression of relief and gratitude on his face made me want to vomit uncontrollably. What kind of experience did you have to go through to make you *so* grateful for the idea of death?

"Tell her that... I'm sorry. And that I love her as much as my own mother. If you could get a message to her, and my father... Tell them that I made a difference. And that they're going to name a star after each of them, at my request. Just like I always promised."

I could feel one of Fyrenn's wings close entirely overtop of me in the real world. I needed the contact so badly, that it almost caused me to break down and lose the spell entirely when his feathers came to rest.

I kept Astris' words at a distance. Locking away the image, and the sound, so I could project it back later. I didn't want to think about what he'd said. How it would make me feel. The way it would feel to play it back for Martins... For his parents...

I just focused on the math. The Magic. The cold, precise, mechanistic structure of the surgeon's knife I was crafting. The arc of one smooth instantaneous light-speed stroke in just the right place.

The preparation of the intrusion, countermeasure evasion, search, view, and record magics that I needed to have cued up to fire in sequence instantly afterwards.

Finally it was all ready. The terrible instrument of killing. And of knowing.

I nodded, and glanced up at Fyrenn.

"Ready."

The dead, emotionless tone of the word made him jolt physically. He nodded in return, and then fixed his gaze on Astris. Said the words I couldn't find. Words to make the going easier. For us both.

"Thank you. You have endured something no one should ever have to experience... And I promise you that we will take your sacrifice, and forge it into a weapon to end this horror. Because of you, all of this evil will come to a stop."

I could see the words washing over Astris like a flood of golden light, driving back darkness as it went, searing away the pain, and fear, and hopelessness even as Fyrenn fought to keep his voice even, and confident.

"Generations will live on free of that fear, because of you. You will be remembered as a hero. All that this evil forced from you will be undone. Martins is so proud of you... Your father and mother will be too..."

Astris smiled, and mouthed a 'Thank you' silently through his tears.

Fyrenn exhaled a ragged breath, and held up a claw in salute.

"When you reach that far green country beyond... Please find a Gryphon named Seldar. And tell him that I am doing my best to make good of his gift. Find, if you can, a little Human girl, named Sonya. Tell her that her sister is doing so, so well."

Astris nodded, and began to sob in earnest, pushing out his response between each heaving wracking cry.

"I will!"

Fyrenn screwed his eyes shut, and rivulets of tears ran down the feathers of his cheeks. They matched my own as he whispered his last request.

"And... Please find three other Humans... Linda, Charles, and Nell Wrenn. Tell them that... I love them. And I miss them."

Astris nodded, and exhaled, his sobs finally ebbing into unsteady breathing as he lay down in the grass, and buried his head in the blades, inhaling deeply of the sweet scent, and staring up at the stars.

I heard Fyrenn begin to mutter a prayer in a low, somber tone. Something in old Gryphic that I couldn't even begin to parse. Astris spoke one final time. And at last, he seemed to be truly at peace.

"I'm read---"

I let fly with my invisible scalpel.

And he vanished.

I felt his presence disappear. Not destroyed, but moved... As if off our plane, but not quite like a teleportation... Cut free from the body, but not unmade. There was no pain. It was over almost faster than I could make sense of it.

The field too vanished. But not the stars, or the blackness.

The complex sequence of spells I'd prepared began to fire off in rapid sequence. Sounds began to fill the void. Voices. Colored streaks. The afterimages of ghostly Pony-like creatures, molded of a force one park dark pattern, two parts pure malice. A personified hate for life itself.

In the center of the vast web of billions, a familiar presence. A dark roiling mass that exuded arrogance. Desire. Hatred.

The Nightmare.

Then all at once Fyrenn and I were standing on some kind of ring. A structure so huge that it stretched off into the horizon in either direction as its arc swept up to meet in a vast frisbee shape far above. Smaller points of silver light drifted back and forth in the void.

Ships. Starships.

All around us Humans... And Ponies! And Gryphons! And Changelings, of the sort that IJ had in her Hive, rather than the black chitin of Chrysalis' drones.

And just as quickly the image dissolved into a fleeting memory of a planet bathed in fire. Weapons so immense that they made the Genesist Antimatter torpedoes look like a mote of light dancing on the head of a pin.

Then darkness. Pain. Endless voids of pain.

A moment of clarity. A huge build-up of energy. The image of a giant ring buried beneath the surface of the Earth, great coils of superconductors pressing against the fabric of reality itself...

...And the slightest sensation of a tweaked equation, like the slight plucking of a stringed instrument. The moment that Nightmare's magic collided with carefully contrived particle beams in just the right way...

Order collapsed into chaos. A world's sky burned to a familiar ashen gray dome...

And then a young Alicorn... Familiar somehow, various shades of blue... Luna!

Her own rage. Pain. Loss. Fear... Vulnerability.

Another infestation. Invited this time, but no less horrific to witness. More panic, and suffering as the Nightmare seized her for own ends. A whirlwind of destruction and death... A final confrontation. Celestia's visage twisted by unspeakable betrayal, loss, and furious determination.

Then silence. An unbroken stretch of silver-bathed light for a thousand years, that passed almost as quickly as a heart-beat...

Then freedom at last, as her Wisps seized on a moment of cyclical weakness in Celestia's spell to free their dread Queen.

Another confrontation, six multicolored points of light... And power. Power so great that one could shape galaxies...

Or move universes.

An image of a truly vast inverted flower, petals opening down instead of up... A huge glittering silver and gray artificial construct suspended in a void of stars, and covered in deepest blue oceans, and verdant green trees...

Equestria!

Then the sense of pushing a heavily loaded thing over the crest of a hill, and then the release as quantum gravity took over... And an image of something at the bottom of the spatio-temporal hill as the entirety of the envelope that made up Equestria's universe began to roll under its own inertia...

A dull gray and teal planet with familiar continents...

Oh God no!

A young Unicorn with ambitions of making this new 'Earth' a better place. A horrible accident. Bitterness. Sadness. Vulnerability... And the Nightmare took a new host once again.

I wanted to wretch all over the floor, but the reflex was so disconnected from my body, that all I could do was continue to suffer through the condensed deluge of images, sounds, and sensations in horrified silence.

A young Human man, also painfully familiar. Robert Gilchrist. A dying organization with just the right goals, and fervor, but no vision, nor resources... A perfect opportunity...

A facility. Stark. Cold. Sophisticated. A white and gray monolith beneath the shimmer of a cloaking field, and the twisted gray branches of dead Amazonia's petrified forests..

Horrors unknown to the world at large tucked away beneath...

A dozen thousand careful manipulations.

The Nightmare was like a spider, sat in the center of an immense web. I could suddenly see her entire perspective...

There was her thread connecting her to Chrysalis' dreams, which she had used to first ally the Changelings with the HLF, creating an exchange of captured Ponies to the Changelings, for their Chitin excretions back to the HLF... Then turning them against each other when the time was right.

There was the slender strand that connected the idea of a series of tungsten and platinum orbital rods, to the mind of a man whose hate for all things Equine was the whole and entire driving force in his life.

And right beside it the tiny nudge that had convinced him to end his life on the barrel of his own antique side-arm before anyone could find out how he knew what he knew.

Across from that the threads linking Gilchrist, the PER, and half a dozen major Earthgov corporations.

The Diamond Dog Trolls to the HLF.

An Earthgov party to the HLF here, to Echelon Twelve there...

A carefully woven series of almost invisible gossamer filaments going back to Luna. Horrid dreams. The seeds of an idea... The weaknesses in a castle's defenses... Six familiar gemstones...

How long had they known the Elements were missing?!

And then beside that, a small but sturdy beam that terminated just outside Fyrenn's head. More nightmares... Just a reflection back at him of his own fears, but still... No wonder he'd been struggling to sleep soundly!

And then I saw a wide, thick cord vanishing off into the curvature of the future. Plans laid down, but not yet come to fruition... And I tugged.

All at once, new abominations exploded around me.

An army of hundreds of thousands marching down from the hills. Four hulking familiar dark shapes descending from the clouds behind them. Their destination a familiar city-castle on a mountain...

Two Alicorns twisted, their normally compassionate, almost deific features scrambled into rictuses of rage, and unbridled power, standing behind a third, more familiar form. Nightmare Veritas, Sun, and Moon.

A field of Gryphons. Charred. Dead. Bleached. Filled with wisp spines.

Ponies rounded up by Wisps in dark crystalline armor. And Trolls, collaborating to ensure their place in the new order. Ponies forced to lie down on stone tables, as already infested Unicorns restrained them and...

I tried to look away, but I couldn't. The images were in my mind, and coming with the pressure of a firehose.

The whole of Equestria infested, turned to submission, or killed off... And then...

The Earth, a blasted hulk of its already twisted former self. Nuclear fires burning across every city.

Humans rounded up by thousands of Ponies, and Trolls, and Chrysalis' Changelings, all clad in dark crystalline armor. Millions... Billions forced through sickening bastardizations of Conversion Bureaus. And then straight into infestation tubes.

The whole Earth Ponified... And then enslaved, and exported to Equestria.

At long last, the Earth finally consumed... And suddenly a paradise. Ponies living in almost sickening luxury. Cavorting, enjoying every possible pleasure, and delight...

No. Not Ponies... Wisps. Bodies broken, worn out, abused in pursuit of enjoyment and decadence... Then discarded. The young allowed to live just enough of a life to make them useful for breeding...

Camps. Concentration camps. Where generations of Ponies were birthed, indoctrinated, curated to the height of physical perfection, made to breed to ensure the next generation... And then marched off for infestation, to act as replacements for bodies already battered and worn out...

The few who ever managed to see the truth? To escape? The Trolls, and the Changelings saw to them. Sometimes infiltrators were placed inside the camps to intentionally sow tiny seeds of rebellion. Any takers were swiftly executed. Or infested, if they were... Ripe enough...

And watching over it all, the unholy trinity. Nightmares Veritas, Sun, and Moon.

At long last, great ships built to specifications older than the wars of Discord. Huge engines of terrifying destructive power flung out across the stars, and the membranes of universes...

The children of Humanity. The fruits of Genesis. Overwhelmed in a single night and day of terror, and fire... More fuel for the engine of the final triumph of the Dispossessed...

And then nothing. Nothing but the constant cycle. All else left in the universe cold, and dead, but for that which was enslaved.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

The scream tore out of me with real, almost physical force. Everything seemed to collapse to a single dark point. And a face. The Nightmare's enraged visage. The bolt of my anger surged across her network, violently dissociating the Wisp that had been occupying Astris' skull, and then slamming into the side of the Nightmare's own head, leaving behind a bright glowing blue and black streak.

Even as she began to lash out in anger, the connection vanished. I'd immolated the Wisp that had been forced into acting as our conduit.

Suddenly I was left back in the confinement Chamber. Fyrenn's heavy breathing, and my aching sobs the only sounds, echoing forlorn off the walls.

I saw the smoking crater my final outburst had made of Astris' head.

I buried my own head in Fyrenn's side, and cried. Great, heaving, wracking, rib bending sobs. And screams.

I just couldn't stop screaming...

Chapter 21

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 12th, Gregorian Calendar

Celestia

Try as I might, I couldn't shake the overpowering sense that things had changed. And not for the better.

I shifted uncomfortably on the Javelin's seats, their arms lifted between two, and then the two of the next row reversed, and joined with the first to form a platform of cushions large enough for me.

Change was a familiar sensation to me. Often a welcome one after so many years of stagnation.

It wasn't the sense of change itself that was weighing on me. Nor was it merely the sudden exhaustion I felt, deprived of the connection to my dear Sun, and the world of my birth.

It was the inescapable feeling that a line had been crossed, and that certain aspects of the future were unavoidable, no matter what I said, or did.

I'd seen moving images of what the Humans called 'Atomic Weapons' very early in the first contact process. It was nearly five days of contemplation after that before I'd finally decided to continue speaking with them on diplomatic terms.

For a time, the urge to cut them off and never speak to them again had been sickeningly overwhelming.

A tiny part of me wondered if we all would have been better off had I turned them away...

And just as quickly the main reason I hadn't came flooding back. Seven billion people. More, really. Seven billion was a rounding simplification. How could I in good conscience have condemned so many to perish, even when I didn't know that I was partially responsible for their plight?

Humanity rightly seemed, for the most part, to fear many of its own creations nearly as much as I did. And the fear they were feeling was palpable.

They'd always worked hard to ensure my safety when I visited their world. And for all their partisan, religious, racial, and class bickering, their government and military had always managed to present a united face, even when the reality was more complex underneath.

The tenuous illusion of stability seemed to have shattered.

Never before had so many fighter craft been sent to escort me. Two dozen jet attack craft, plus two Dragons outfitted with 'turbine flight boost armatures,' and 'heavy anti-vehicle weapons packages,' and an 'electronic warfare jamming plane.' And all for just one executive transport.

The number of JRSF troops that had been dispatched to meet me at the crossover point, just to oversee my arrival and boarding, had been almost stifling. And, I had not failed to notice, almost all Equestrians. Their ratio to Humans was five to one.

Even the pilots of my Javelin were Equestrian. A Pegasus and a Gryphon. There were only two Human crew onboard. And fifteen other JRSF troops. All Equestrian. And all that in addition to my six Day Guards.

The cabin was a very cramped space.

Cramped, and virtually silent but for the deadened roar of the engines.

We'd stopped twice to refuel out of necessity. Once aboard an aircraft carrier, which had only surfaced for the amount of time strictly required to shuffle myself, and my detail, from one Javelin to the next, and launch the relief aircraft.

The second time in a JRSF ground facility just outside a city called Belém. Two more Dragons, and a dozen Gryphons had been patrolling the skies around the base, alongside half a dozen attack VTOLs.

The facility's defensive railgun and missile batteries had all been extended from their shelters, and tracked the sky in great menacing sweeps, ready to fire on anything that felt hostile, with even the slightest provocation.

In the distance, just smoke, and a thousand faint red glows.

Belém was burning.

Every city on the Earth was burning.

I'd taken the first leg of the flight to read a hastily assembled briefing packet sent by the JRSF's central command. Then on the second leg, I'd forced myself to watch the Humans' news media reports.

It was hard to decide which was more heart-breaking; The decision by Human military leaders to deploy Nuclear weapons against a Conversion Bureau. Or the responses that had followed.

Pained though I was to admit it, I had been forced to abandon my preconceptions. To agree that what had been done to the 'Creek Mountain' was an acceptable response. Perhaps even an appropriate response.

I'd been forced to ask myself; Would I have done anything differently in the end? I'd allowed Gryphons to slaughter the enemies of my little Ponies before, once certain lines had been crossed... Known what they would do. Wanted them to do it for me.

And felt shockingly little pity, right up until it had very nearly been too late.

Yet another in my pantheon of mistakes.

As to the response from the Humans, and Equestrians, who had set fire to so much of the planet's cities?

What else were they to do? They had so little recourse left.

How had it all slipped so far into oblivion without my noticing?

The rot Fyrenn had uncovered should have been more of a warning. But no one had truly understood how fragile the peace was. Perhaps partly because so few, whether Human or Equestrian, really understood Humanity's history, even its recent history.

There were evils lurking in their culture, their government, and their very ways of life, that had gone largely unconfronted for centuries. I'd badly underestimated the magnitude of those evils, and the danger that with the right prodding, that they might break loose and wreak havoc before I could finish the work I'd started.

Work I had no choice but to finish, even in spite of the causes of the catastrophe.

I winced, and switched off the holoscreen with a flick of my magic, forcing my thoughts back to the present.

The goal is still the same. The paths may change... They always do... But the goal has not changed at all. First save as many lives as possible. Second, make as many lives better as possible. Third, save what art, and science, and history can be saved in the time given.

Complex paths. Complex obstacles. Simple goals.

Right and true.

The mantra was only a small, dim comfort.

Millions more were going to die than I'd ever feared in my darkest nightmares. And that was the best case to be hoped for.

I knew Fyrenn would give his opinion. Others too. And I valued them all. But having seen the callousness with which the order was issued... 'Target the San Francisco Conversion Bureau.'

I found myself shivering again, as if someone had poured ice water over my coat.

There was a way back from the brink of outright war... For the present. But I'd seen the fury of those roused to action by fear, combined with hatred, before.

And both sides had what they saw as good cause for both fear, and hatred in plentiful ration.

Secession, devolution of certain government powers, special administrative zones, strategic weapon disarmament... These measures would merely stem the flow of blood for a time.

The patient was always going to die... But now it was going to die much sooner, and more painfully.

True stability would never return. Riots, and brushfire conflicts, and terrorism, and brinksmanship, unrest, and conflict would be ceaseless. Right up until the last of Australia vanished.

The chance for an orderly transition was dashed. Forever.

All that was left was the fractional hope that a majority of those who could accept the escape of Conversion, or of Genesis, would both have the chance to take it, and the will, before the end came.

Far too many were going to die in the collapse. Still more would never muster the will to take the final step, until it would inevitably become far too late to process so many through such a materials-limited process.

More still would perish in stubborn pride. Humans we might have reached, and convinced a week previous were now doubtless cemented in their hatred of us. Patriotism was morphed, as it so easily is for them, into Nationalism. The sickly sweet elixir of self-inflicted mortal wounds under the guise of greatness restored.

A soft two-toned sound indicated that we were preparing to land. I steeled my ears for the deeply unpleasant higher registers of the Javelin's engines passing through particularly painful frequencies.

I watched Lucapa pass by in the window as we descended. I was struck again by guilt as I saw the skeletal frames of fifteen great arrowheads being slowly moved from initial assembly hangars into the fitting, completion, and launch pits so recently vacated.

I should have done more to support them.

How many more might have been saved if they could have flown twice, five, or even ten times as many ships?

Perhaps, the thought struck me as the Javelin's wheels touched pavement softly, there might still be time to partly rectify that mistake. Atone for lost time.

The taxiing process was over in a blur, and I found myself smothered in armored creatures once more.

One face at the bottom of the 'airstair' stood out in stark familiarity.

I descended carefully, and slowly, shivering as the cold air bit into my side. I knew it wasn't so much that Earth's winters were getting any colder... More that my own power was waning.

As I reached the bottom with no small amount of relief, I pulled the red Gryphon into a short, but intense hug with both wings. Decorum be damned. I needed the physical contact. It seemed, from his expression, that he did as well.

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, the same way it had when the Javelin began its descent. Pain. A great sadness was written on his beak, and his eyes...

Pulling away, I opted to remove the bandage with alacrity. I did my best to keep my voice away from exhausted, or fearful registers as I spoke. But I knew I wasn't entirely successful.

"I have... Extremely disturbing information. About the being you know as 'Veritas.' "

The way Fyrenn's ears flattened... His tail lashed. The horrors reflected off the back of twin golden orbs. Somehow I felt the truth of his words in the breath before they left his beak, cold, almost lifeless.

"I already know."

Fyrenn

As the last of Skye's projection faded away, an exact visual and auditory recounting of everything she'd ripped form the Nightmare's mind, I moved to put a wing over her, as much to give her some privacy as to comfort her.

I felt her press her whole body into my side, as if trying to vanish from the world, and I knew that she was crying again. I wanted badly to break down and join her.

The rest of the group seated around the table sat in a hollowed out, defeated silence of introspection, and processing. Not one face bore any expression outside the spectrum of horror, pain, and sadness.

Celestia, Martins, Aston, Neyla, Alyra, Seyal, Sorven, a large golden Dragon who'd introduced himself as Arnshekh, and Hutch.

Thank God that the person who had designed Martins' personal conference room had built it with large multispecies gatherings in mind. And security.

Hutch was sitting side by side with Aston. Seeing him there in his dark burgundy and gray feathers, reminiscent of a Kestrel, tail entwined with Aston's one wing over her back... Together with the sight of Alyra nestled under one of Neyla's wings, and the touch of her other against my own left side...

The contact, and the sight of them, was all that was keeping me alive in that moment.

Skye's presentation was the capstone to a long, careful recounting that Celestia had shared to ensure that everyone knew as much as she did. Hearing the awful truths again, forced out through her pain, and grief...

The way it had all aligned so perfectly with everything Skye and I had seen...

At last, almost everything had fallen into place. The vast majority of the whole tragic skein made clear. The initial images from our voyage were still somewhat unclear in their meaning, but I had a few hypotheses. None of which particularly mattered to the present moment.

I squeezed Skye gently against my side with one wing, and opened the other to lay across Neyla's back.

A hard core of steel began to wrap its way around the sorrow and pain that had nested deep down in my gut, seeded there by Skye's anguished cries. Astris' hollow expression. The sight of so many horrors...

The future was still in motion. Still in flux.

I would be damned if I was going to lose the particular future I'd so briefly, but so wonderfully glimpsed.

I'd seen the Nightmare bleed.

If it bleeds... We can kill it.

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

First step; Define the problem in the simplest useful terms. Break the future out into basic, generically defined goals. Then work out a flexible plan as-needed.

I placed my open right claw down on the table with enough force to get everyone's attention, but not enough to shake the surface.

"Right, then. As complicated as the web is that brought us here, the goals are very, very simple. Save lives. Survive. Fight. Win. And our next steps are clear."

Turning to face each being in the room, starting with Celestia, and ending by lifting one wing and proffering Skye a small smile, I was met only with nodding silence. They were all looking to me with anticipation, I realized with a jolt.

I felt a weight descend between my wings. A sense of responsibility I'd been desperately trying to avoid. Neyla might have been the one to talk the most about how she didn't want the burden of command, but in truth my own desire to stay free of those hard choices practically matched hers for its intensity.

Too late now. They want you to lead. So lead.

You were made for this. Trained for this in two worlds.

Step up, or shut up.

I chose the former, narrowing my eyes, and gesturing with a claw to underscore my words as I worked double-time to put as much confidence, and hope into my tone as physically possible.

"First; We stem the damage here. Show a *part,* and only a part, of this to the Earthgov delegation, and the wider JRSF command structure. We need them to fear an external enemy, to help bring them together. Or at least keep them from drifting further apart. But if Humanity learns that the Winnowing... The Barrier... Conversion itself... Were all part of the Nightmare's plan, from the start?"

I pierced Celestia with the most intense expression I could. Neither anger, nor judgement, but simple firmness. I knew she out of us all would most object to a lie of omission.

"...Then Conversion will truly fail. Billions more will be doomed. We'll lose enough people to the collapse as it is. We can't afford to act as if it isn't happening. Isn't accelerating, now..."

I stood, keeping my wings in contact with Skye and Neyla as I did, and pointed towards room's the sealed and locked security doors.

"This is a different world than it was, even yesterday. It's not an orderly transition anymore. It's an emergency evacuation, under-fire. We treat it as such, or we are dooming those to whom we have a responsibility. Now more than ever."

Though I paused, no one spoke. I saw nothing but agreement written in every face. It was frightening... The load of all that trust...

But not a load I had to share alone. Each and every one of the beings at the table was competent, skilled, loyal, and brave. I forged ahead with a tiny spark of true confidence that seemed to grow slowly with each passing word. But at least it was growing.

"I've given Martins' plan a once-over... I see it as the best option for the logistical and political path forward. But that's for the esteemed former Councilor, her royal Highness, the JRSF Board, and the Council to hash out. And that's just how we keep the planet intact and alive a little longer... The real threat..."

I could see Skye shrink from the words. But I could also see the spark of defiance under all the pain. A tiny flicker of a still-unspent ember. It gave me hope.

"...The real threat is the Nightmare. Nothing else matters if she succeeds. It doesn't matter that we've seen her intentions. She isn't going to change tack now. An invasion is coming."

I shifted my gaze to each person once more in turn, starting this time with Skye, and ending with Celestia before I continued.

"This is war. Pure and simple unbound war. And in war, it pays to be fast off the blocks. So we strike a retaliatory blow before she can recover from her failure here. One of the things Skye and I learned from our... Expedition... Is the location of the PER headquarters on Earth. It's a facility too large, and too sophisticated to pull up stakes and move. Our enemy also thinks it too well defended for us to mount a successful assault, given the current global situation; SatVision says they haven't budged since we learned the location... So we're going to wipe it off the face of the planet. Violently."

Arnshekh inclined his head, and spoke for the first time since he'd introduced himself to me at the start of the meeting.

"That will not be easy. Earthgov is not likely to be pleased by the idea of the JRSF acting unilaterally on their soil in such a fashion. Nor can we easily spare the forces, or risk placing them out in the open for Earthgov to strike should negotiations fail. Deploying a strategic weapon is completely out of the question if we want to avoid an apocalypse. We will need something... Unconventional."

I nodded, and grinned slightly. I wasn't prepared to discuss the specifics quite yet, but I'd already been chewing over the points the General had raised for several hours. I was slowly but steadily concocting something that would fit the bill.

"Understood. I don't think we're out of clever tricks quite yet. But this is just for openers... As soon as we've put some dirt in Veritas' eye, she is going to accelerate her timetable, if she hasn't already. Make no mistake. This war will primarily be fought in Equestria..."

I sat back down, and folded my wings, trading a nod first with Skye, then with Neyla, before finally reaching my main point.

Though the secondary counterpoint remained unspoken, I think everyone understood that we needed a direct victory against the Nightmare not only for the tactical reasons I was about to state aloud, but for morale.

An army marches on its spirit, even more than its stomach.

"...To keep Earth alive long enough for us to win the war? To have a chance at saving more than we lose? We need to cripple Nightmare's operations here. We must deny her a base of power from which to continue engineering a faster collapse of Human civilization. If we can't undo the damage the fire has already done, and we accept that it will take time to put it out? At least we can prevent the arsonist from pouring on any more fuel."

Alyra

I always knew my father had something important to say when he would sit down across from me on his haunches, and dip his head, bringing his eyes level with mine.

He'd taken me and... Mom... Aside right after the end of the meeting. It still felt so strange to be invited to those kinds of gatherings. I didn't feel like it was my place to say very much, or even participate at all beyond listening...

But even listening to discussions of such dark secrets and vital plans was a far cry from my days at street level, worrying more about how I was going to steal a functioning pair of shoes before the current ones wore out, than anything else.

It was subtle, but Dad had a tell; Whenever he sat down across from me to talk about something serious, if it was good-serious then his ears would be fixed straight up, and canted towards me. If it was bad-serious, they would be ever so slightly droopy, and the tip of the right one would twitch every so often, until he finally got the first words off his chest.

Judging by his ears, what he wanted to say was bad-serious. And the way Mom put a wing over his back to comfort him did a lot to underscore that impression.

I braced myself as Dad gave me a sad smile, and took a deep, deep breath to speak. Oh boy. Really bad-serious then.

"Alyra... You are already so intimately acquainted with the difficulty of making choices. And of taking lives. You've been through far more than anyone your age should have ever had to face. And while others may say whatever they will... I firmly believe you make many, many more right choices than wrong ones. Including the one you made recently."

I nodded slowly, and tried to force out a half of a smile, which I could feel fall flat into a grimace almost instantly. I'd not lost any sleep over the lives of the Earthgov soldiers I'd killed. I'd endured too much at their hands to have any sympathy for them.

But the consequences that had come after? The fear that I'd made the wrong choice, because of the instability my actions had only exacerbated... I finally fully understood what Dad had spent so many sleepless nights wrestling with over the last year.

Freeing people was not an easy task. But I'd always known that. Gaining my own freedom, and all the pain and deaths I'd seen along the way, from my earliest memories... I'd always known that freedom was hard-won.

Dad leaned forward, and gripped my shoulders firmly, affectionately, and comfortingly with his claws as he finally got up enough head of steam internally to say the hard part out loud. Mom moved to stand beside us both, placing a wing on each of us in the process.

"This is, for all of us, the worst possible time to deal with yet another hard choice... But you have a right to this one. More than any choice you've been faced with since your choice to become a Gryphon, you have a right to this choice..."

I was completely baffled, and that scared me. I almost always knew some part of what Dad was going to say, even before he said it. But not this time. What could he mean? What could he possibly be referring to?

He reached into the feathers of his neck, and plucked out a small data storage stick. I'd seen Martins hand it to him right as we went into the meeting, and I'd assumed that it had something to do with his war plans... But that idea went right out the window as he gently pressed the cold aluminum rectangle into one of my claws, and closed it over the device.

"When we arrived on Earth, I received a message. From your biological father. He wants to meet you."

Of all the things he could have said, that was probably one of the only ones I never would have guessed, even given an infinite number of tries. The words hit me in my gut like a well thrown punch.

I could almost feel the room start to spin.

My biological father? He was alive? How had he... No. That part was easy. My DNA had entered the system in a dozen different ways just before my Conversion. Medical records at the Manhattan Bureau. And Samples taken for investigative purposes too...

If his DNA was also registered with the global database, and he had an alert setup...

The much more important question wasn't how. It was why.

Dad sighed deeply, and inclined his head down at my closed claw, clutched around the drive, and his clutched around mine in turn.

"That's a complete record of everything anyone knows about him. Personal history. Psychological profile. Physical description and images. Contents of his formal request letter... Criminal records."

I flinched at those last words. Criminal records. Curiosity had sprung up, sharp and acrid in my throat... But fear too. And... Anger. And confusion.

A torrent of thoughts and emotions threatened to break loose and overwhelm my senses, but I fought it back. I needed to hear the rest of what Dad had to say.

"The choice is yours. He arrives here later this afternoon. I asked Martins to arrange transport and accommodation. But he's been told very little, and no promises were made. You have the choice. Read what's on that drive. Or don't. And if you do read it? Then meet him. Or don't. And if you decide to speak with him... Whatever comes after that... That's your choice too. Neyl--- Your Mother and I... Will follow your lead on this."

Oh God... So *that* was it. That was the part of it that was eating him alive inside... I could hear it in the way he said 'follow your lead.' The sadness. The fear. The resignation, even...

He thought that there was even the slightest chance that I might replace him... Or maybe ask him to admit my birth father into our family structure...

I shook my head and did my best to pull both Mom and Dad close with my wings. Big as they were growing, they couldn't quite fit all the way around both of them. But the gesture still pulled them close.

"No! Oh Dad... No... Don't even think that. Don't even think that, please!"

After a protracted moment of quiet, heartfelt contact, I pulled away, switching my gaze slowly back and forth between my parents. My parents. My parents because they loved me, and were raising me, and caring for me... Not because of some measly shared base proteins.

Dad hit me with a curious expression. A confused head-tilt. I couldn't say whether he was trying to work out what I meant, or whether he knew, and was trying to work out how I knew. I forged ahead regardless.

"I... Honestly don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I don't have a lot of time to decide... But I do know this. I *promise* you this; If I talk with him today? It will be the first, *and* the *last* time he and I see each other."

The tears in both Dad and Mom's eyes were pretty obvious. They weren't doing an especially good job of holding them back. I leaned forward to wing-hug them both again, and took a long silent moment to just revel in the feel of my wings against them, and theirs against me.

Even if the world came to an end, and we all died in the process... That one moment alone would have made all the suffering it took to get there worth it. Let alone the million other moments like it I'd experienced in eight months' time.

Both Mom and Dad's heads were nestled adjacent to mine, so I whispered in their ears.

"I want my life with you to be a fresh start. Live or die, win or lose... I don't want any family besides the one we're making. You, and Skye, and Stan, and IJ... Kephic, and Varan... Hutch, and Laura... *You* are my Father. And My Mother. No one else. Never anyone else."

I knew in that moment what I would do. I suppose every adoptee's life is different... The feelings we each have to the ones whose bodies we came from different too...

It might not be pleasant... But I needed to know answers to questions. And I needed to say goodbye. In whatever way ended up being appropriate.

Pulling back from the embrace again, I smiled up at Mom, and Dad. To see them together in that way... It was all the strength I could ever need.

"After everything I went through to finally get you two together? I am *not* adding a third wheel to that mix. I'm too selfish for that. I want the two of you lovebirds aaaaallll to *myself.*"

The half sob, half chuckle that escaped Dad's beak told me I'd hit the mark with just the right amount of humor at the right time. It seemed to work just as well for rescuing him from his darker spirals as it had for Sonya.

He gently brushed one talon down my right cheek to dislodge an errant tear, and then nodded firmly.

"We are, happily, and contentedly, yours. We always will be."

Neyla

I couldn't stop looking at Fyrenn as we walked, for the most part in silence.

Part of it was an admiration for the choice he'd made with Alyra, and the way he'd handled it. But a much bigger part of it was simply an attempt to conquer the surreality of thinking 'my mate, soon-to-be' whenever I saw his face.

Humans would say 'my fiancé.'

From the way he kept looking at me, I knew he was working through the same strange and wonderful feelings. And, too, I think we were both taking as much comfort from each other as we could. Dark days had fallen. We both knew that even darker days were still to come.

As we reached a particularly quiet stretch of corridor, offset by a large bank of windows, he stopped, and sat down on his haunches, staring out across the immense tangle of steel, wires, lights, and machines.

I moved to sit beside him, pressing in as close as I could without knocking him over. How wonderful to finally be able to do that, and have him press back. When he spoke, his voice was drenched in a forlorn warmth that was at once strange, sad, and deeply affectionate.

"I can't begin to ever properly tell you how sorry I am. My sense of timing is... Lousy. If I'd been less a fool, we could have already had almost three years of this together. And now we may not make it to three at all."

I nuzzled my head up into the crook of his neck, and ribbed him with one elbow until he realized what I was after, and placed his right wing fully over my back and side. Only then did I respond, whispering softly into his ear.

"If we are to die? We will die together. And we have so much to fight for now... If we live? We will have so much time to be as we are now, that these fell times will be nothing more than a blink in our stories. A Prologue to a victory that sets the stage for many, many chapters hence."

He slowly began to preen the feathers of my right cheek. I suppressed a small giggle at the irony; I'd been one of the ones to teach him how to properly preen in the first place.

Not only had Kephic and Varan done a terrible job when they'd initially explained... But it had also been a good excuse to indulge myself, before someone had cruelly robbed me of that contact by explaining to him that social preening was a very intimate thing usually mainly done by parents to children, and lovers to each other.

More than once I'd had a Human ask me about the differences in Gryphon courtship, romance, and physicality. Too numerous to easily discuss, but at its core, the main difference I'd always highlighted was the difference in the way physical attraction worked.

We certainly had the ability to strongly appreciate beauty in another, and to desire it to be our own. To enjoy very close physical intimate contact. But without all the baggage and issues of physical organic reproductive systems, there was a complete and total absence of something Humans might best have termed 'lust.'

Many Human physical intimacies were considered taboo for practice in public, whereas Gryphons have no such boundaries, because we have no need of them.

Another key difference is the fact that we lack the ability to split our romantic affections. Humans threw the word 'programmed' around a lot when discussing our minds, and perhaps that was an appropriate term.

Regardless, no one had ever known a Gryphon to desire poly-amory, whether mutually accepted, as it could often be with Ponies and some Humans, or whether an unhappy situation, as also seemed to happen sometimes with Humans and Ponies alike, with one partner leaving for another and so dashing the hopes of the one left behind.

We did not form romance as anything other than pairs, and we did not ever break the heart of another once a promise of mating had been given. We simply lacked the ability to develop longing for another once that commitment had been made, as if the mechanisms by which we felt that specific kind of love became almost magically bound to our partner.

We could only ever have eyes for one other at a time, and that only of the opposite gender, and never any other ever again once fully mated. It was why Fyrenn and I had agreed to forego sharing sleeping accommodations until after a formal ceremony. Males and females often had to keep close quarters in very cold climates when outside the benefit of a shelter, but that was a concession to practicality.

In turn, our decision to remain apart at night was a concession to symbolically underscoring the nature of our innate mental construction.

For a single instance of a male and female to share a sleeping space? Our culture, and the inescapable compulsions that drove it, practically demanded we be a mated pair.

All of that seemed to rile some Humans in particular, especially when they didn't understand that it wasn't a cultural mold we were forcing members of our society to fit into, but rather that our culture was following a 'baked-in' structural part of each of us that we were born with, lived with, and died with quite happily.

Inasmuch as no one ever knew a Gryphon to break our programming, no one had ever known one of us to *want* to break it either.

Ponies or Humans who knew us better understood that we levied no judgement against others, nor held any of our 'programming' to anyone else. We were simply made a certain way, and had no clue as to how, or why. Just that it had always been so in all historical memory, for all of us, always.

It was something endemic to being a Gryphon. Something programmed.

I idly wondered, and not for the first time, by whom we'd been programmed, when, and why? Was it something we'd developed naturally? Or something done to us in the intermediate past? Or had we been that way from the start?

What was the thought process? What reasoning behind always forming mated hetero-gendered pairs? Why did we even have gender, or gendered dimorphism at all? Changelings had the option to partake of that, in any way they wanted, or not to do so at all, and their means of reproduction was the only one in Equestria remotely similar to ours...

For my part, I was glad our kind were bound to one, and only one other. I could never have stood to share Fyrenn that way. Share him as a father to Alyra, a brother to Kephic, Varan, and in many ways a brother to the others... Yes. Gladly. They were as much siblings of mine as of him.

But the way he would look at me when he thought I wasn't aware... I couldn't stand the thought of him ever looking at anyone else in that way. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that whether it was the Creator who had made us this way, or something else under His auspices, that the end result would be that Fyrenn was mine. And only mine.

I supposed every species had its mysteries... Ponies had Alicorns. Dragons had a great many questions still to answer, perhaps even more than we did, about their relationship to deeper forms of magic. Changelings too, especially given all that IJ and her Hive had discovered.

Fyrenn had clearly taken a lot of my preening lessons to heart, and soon he had cleaned my right cheek of dried tears and smoothed it to perfection. Breaking my train of thought, I shifted position to let him start on the left, as he spoke softly between motions.

"I don't know wherefore Humans get the idea that having no lips means that kissing is somehow worse for us. I may be biased, because you were my first kiss... I never did kiss anyone that way when I had lips, so I have no first-claw comparison... But I think this is better than all the best parts of that, and of hands rubbed through hair... Any of it. And much less nasty and messy too. All very... Wholesome."

I snorted outright, and then allowed myself a chuckle aloud as he finished. We locked eyes for a long moment, and then we shuffled stances so I could start on his left cheek, talking in turn as I paused between patches of feathers.

"I remember when I first explained our mating to you... I will treasure the look on your face for the rest of our days. I still can't believe it wasn't covered in orientation. Alpha program test or not, there is no excuse for not explaining that to someone before you completely change the way their body and mind works. You were lucky that your mentality was already so well suited to our uniqueness."

I was close enough to see him blush under his feathers. Finishing on his left side, I moved to start on the right as he provided a window into his own thoughts.

"In all honesty? If you must know the truth? They had a specialist in to explain it... But I skipped the session, and lied afterwards. Kephic and Varan knew, I think, but didn't press the issue. I was so afraid of what I'd find out, that I just... I didn't want to know then. I was always an outlier among Humans. I never met another one in-person who shared my unique revulsions... I think Gryphons' lack of the expected physical reproductive intimacy is one of the things that drives away a lot of potential converts, actually. Many people can't part with that. Too much raw physical desire. I always found it personally unthinkable. So I suppose I was made for this..."

As I finished on his left cheek, and sat back, I took his claws in mine. A question sprang unbidden into my mind, accompanied by a strong image; A little fledgeling tucked under Alyra's wing.

"If we survive this war... Do you want another fledgeling? Would Alyra want a brother, or sister?"

He exhaled slowly, and his expression surprised me. The relatively calm, but still eclectic mix of feelings playing across his ears and beak told me he'd actually already given the idea some thought, but that he hadn't reached any more an answer than I had. His words confirmed it.

"I don't know yet... I hope that's a workable answer. I think one of the hardest lessons I've been learning is not to count out possible futures too early... We could have another fledgeling. I think we need a lot more time with Alyra before we will know if she is ready for that, or wants that... We could also adopt again. It wouldn't even have to be a Gryphon. We could do both. Or just stay as we are...? I don't know yet..."

The warmth of my smile visibly put him at ease. I reached up with one claw to clasp the side of his face, and drew him in to where his beak was within an inch of mine.

"Then regardless of when we know, and what the answer is... I will relish the journey of finding out together with you."

I'd meant to surprise him by pulling him in for another kiss, but he leaned forward just as I began to pull. We held that kiss for a long time, trying to forget the things we'd seen, and the things we knew we soon had to face.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Twelfth Day, Celestial Calendar

Luna

It was impossible to forget how much I hated taking on certain specific parts of my dear sister's duties. Practically every micro-expression, every haughty inflection, and every perfectly coiffed motion of the noble court seemed designed to ignite rage in me.

I scanned the throne room slowly, carefully, calling to mind the name of each noble and what little I knew about them. There were over three dozen present, along with Shining Armor, Kephic, Varan, Sildinar, Stanley, IJ, and her own entourage.

The huge split down the middle of the room, separating Ponies from all others, spoke distressing volumes to me. Seeing Shining Armor and Stanley breach that foul divide and take their stand beside IJ did much to help soften my concern.

Undoubtedly one of the worst parts about returning home after a thousand years had been the way the royal court had changed. It was, at the time my exile began, a much smaller, more tight knit, and far more diverse group of humbler Ponies from humble backgrounds. Their main goal had been to serve others, rather than 'tradition' or 'policies.'

Somewhere in a thousand years of absence... A thousand years of my sister being stretched far too thin because of what I'd done... That had all changed.

Of the three clans of our kind, Unicorns had always struggled the most with curtailing expressions of their pride through ceremony, pomp, and endless knots of needless expectations. In time, they'd grown to be grossly over-represented in the court, with fully over half of all high stationed Lords and Ladies being Unicorns, and two thirds of them being of 'noble descent.'

A few noble families of theirs had always clung to old bloodlines and pre-unification ways of doing things, even long after the oldest holdouts among the Pegasi had excised the majority of their disharmony.

I privately suspected that it had a great deal to do both with their cultural views on casting magic as a superior trait, as well as the fact that my sister had always disagreed with my assertion that they needed to be forcefully broken of their dangerous notions about 'pure blood.'

Celestia had never argued against the danger of those notions... Merely that there were gentler, kinder ways of turning away those darker impulses. As someone who understood darkness very well, I couldn't have disagreed more. And I was thrilled to finally have leeway to do something drastic about it.

From my brief study of Human history, their world was replete with cautionary tales about the dangers of allowing anyone a platform to preach, however subtly or quietly, that one kind deserved a higher station than another. And I knew from keenly painful experience that power was its own kind of corrupting evil, in the wrong measure.

Combined, it was a recipe for ruin. Even the Gryphons, homogenous though they seemed, understood that; Their 'royal lines' rarely became long-term dynasties, and were often rotated out, through electoral will, for clans and families that came from all sorts of origins.

Their isolation, I felt, stemmed more from the fears and foalishness of Ponies, than any behaviour of theirs. I wondered how few Ponies realized that they were compatible with the Gryphon mating process, if they were willing to take the monogamous vow, and that Hippogryphs were more than mere legend.

And then I wondered how few would be willing to even consider such a union in a positive light, even from afar, if they knew it was possible.

Even after all we owed them... All the terrors and horrors they had put down at the expense of their own blood, to keep us safe...

Our kinds had a much closer relationship before my fall. Close enough that, while few in number, Hippogryphs were a known and recognized reality that was of no shock, nor revulsion, to anypony.

Not for the first time, I bit back a deeply sour recrimination.

That loss was not Celestia's fault any more than it was mine. Had I been less a fool, I would have been there with her. She would have had my counsel, and would have been far less thinly stretched, and far less afraid to take direct action.

Though always prone to gentleness, she'd been braver, and more confident back then. I knew what I'd forced her to do... What the Nightmare had forced her to do... Had a great deal to do with the ways she'd changed. That, and her outright exhaustion.

I pressed that thought violently from my mind as I scanned the room again. I didn't want to think about my sister's age, relative to mine. Alicorns are not immortal, no matter what the legends say, and a thousand years is a significant portion of time for even such as we.

The pitch of hushed conversations reached exactly the point I was waiting for, and I cleared my throat with just enough volume to demand attention. Silence dropped like a heavy drapery, and all eyes swiveled to fix on me, as I seated myself upon my sister's throne.

I'd made that choice quite on-purpose.

Plenty of Ponies believed I'd succumbed to the Nightmare because of a desire for power, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

I'd always abhorred power, but maintained a functional relationship with it, because application of power is necessary for change.

Sitting on Celestia's throne was not borne out of giving in to some dark temptation or silently held fantasy. It had been her idea. A way of trying to get both myself, and many others, used to the idea of seeing me ensconced in that place of power on a more permanent basis, while someone younger in turn took their place on my own throne.

This time I'd decided to take Celestia up on the suggestion. But not because I wanted to get used to the idea...

I did, however, want the nobles to be off balance. Afraid of me. To 'soften them up' as the saying so often went.

Sildinar, Shining Armor, and IJ moved up the stairs to stand flanking me, as we'd prearranged.

Seeing me in all my regalia, sat atop my sister's throne, and flanked by a Changeling Queen, the former Guard Captain, and a Gryphon Prince, each suited in their own ranking paraphernalia?

That image would not soon fade from the minds of anypony in the room.

One could have heard a butterfly's wing beats. I think many of the assembled Ponies were actually holding their breath.

I knew what I had to say would not be easy.

I'd discussed precious little of my experiences with the Nightmare to anypony. Perhaps ten words put together to anyone outside my sister. But for them to understand the reasons for what I was about to do, they needed to better understand the danger. The possible futures we faced.

"Once, I stood as Equestria's most dangerous foe. You trembled at my voice, as I rose to claim the power of Night Eternal. You called me Nightmare Moon."

As I lit my horn to begin projecting images above my head, I could sense the shift from apprehension to fear, even outright terror, in the crowd. Good. Now to focus that fear to a useful end.

"What you once knew as Nightmare Moon, was not one Pony, but two. A dark avatar, made possible by my bitterness, and fear. I opened a door which I could not close upon realizing my mistake."

The mural of light above the throne coalesced into the familiar image of the mare I had been, and then split into my familiar form, and a second dark apparition.

The display drew audible intakes of breath from everyone below the dais, except perhaps for Stanley, who seemed awed, and intrigued, but not nearly so shaken as any of the nobles. He both knew something of what to expect, and was made of far sterner stuff.

As I continued to speak in a tone that reverberated inescapably across the Throne Room's marble surfaces, I sculpted the magic above my head to show Vertias. To show memories IJ had shared with me of the Wisps' citadel in the north. And to show the difficulty, and brutality, of the fights she had witnessed.

"Now... Our old enemy has returned. The creature we call the Nightmare has taken a new host. She stands on the cusp of readiness. Soon she will begin an assault against all the free peoples of both worlds."

I closed the illusion projection with a flash, and a snap. Not strictly speaking necessary, but the way it made some of the Lords and Ladies jump very nearly brought a smile to my face.

Nopony moved, or spoke. More than half were still holding their breath, or breathing very shallowly, as if trying not to be heard. I allowed the tension to hang for several moments before I finally spoke the words I knew would at last trigger spoken reactions.

"In defense of our home, and for the protection, and preservation of life, in the face of this grave threat... I call for a Council of War."

The silence lingered precisely long enough for everypony to fully come to grips with the idea. And then the shouting finally started. I actually found it to be something of a relief.

I allowed them to expend the majority of the verbal frustration, mostly on eachother; They were too afraid to direct any of their arrogant tantrums at me. I listened, carefully tilting my ears and sifting through all the objections and fears to make sure they lined up with the responses I had predicted.

"Such a thing has never been done in living memory!"

True, for all save for my sister and I. The last time had been during the Wars of Discord, almost two and a half thousand years ago.

"What precedent is there for the ways in which this court will have its say on this 'council?' "

There is none.

"Are we to be replaced as the Royal advisors and local governing powers?!"

Now they were catching on.

"Gryphons and... *Changelings* standing beside the *Throne?* Such apostasy would never---"

Quite enough. I rose, and my mane flared brightly. The movement and light were enough to instantly restore silence to all but the most infuriated. The pitch and volume of my 'Royal Canterlot voice' put the rest to immediate, and meek silence.

"OUR DECISION IN THESE MATTERS IS FINAL! WE ACT WITH THE AUTHORITY AND PERMISSION OF OUR SISTER, AND THE SOVEREIGN RIGHT OF OUR OWN CROWN."

Almost as one, the assembled mass of Ponies bowed. Even Carradan seemed to catch on to the gravity of the moment, dipping his head low to match the Nobles.

I let them hold that position for several moments before speaking again, albeit in a less room-shaking fashion.

"This land has not faced war on this scale in the living memory of any being here, except for myself. The... Esteemed body of the Royal Advisory and Noble Court is well versed in economic, and diplomatic matters, as well as peace-time governance."

'Butter them up.' As the colloquialism goes. That had been a piece of Celestia's advice. Flattery first, and then the savagery of truth, and practical action.

"However... This body lacks any of the disciplines and skills needed for martial preparedness and decision making. As such? By the powers vested in the crowns of the Royal Sisters, I am suspending the functioning of the Court, as well as all of its powers and privileges, in favor of direct leadership from the War Council, until such time as this crisis is over."

The words did not conjure as much of an incendiary reaction as had swept the room before. Not only had they spent much of their fury, but they were more keenly feeling their fear once more. And, they were all fruitlessly starting to scheme as to how they might ensure a place for themselves on such a war council.

They were forgetting with whom they were dealing. I am not my sister. I was bound and determined that I would not choose a single Pony of 'Noble blood-stock lineage' for my Council. Nor, even, would every single member be a Pony at all.

That was sure to bruise some egos. Ruffle some fetlocks.

But what could they say, or do? The power of the Alicorns had been an unopposed sovereign absolute for our kind since before Celestia and I had been born.

To defy us was tantamount to defying a goddess.

I was counting on that precedent.

Celestia had given me the hoof-lengths to take extraordinary measures in defense of Equestria. I was merely going to take just a few more canter-lengths to ensure that its future was as well defended as its present.

As the Nobles began to rise from their kneeling positions, and talk quietly amongst themselves, I exchanged a small smile with first IJ, and then Sildinar.

No need to make more of a scene today than necessary. The Court would learn soon enough that I intended to have Gryphons, and Changelings, and Converts on my Council.

And if we survived long enough for the Council to end its terrible purpose? Then the Nobles would learn that I intended to use the changing times as a good excuse to finally replace them outright.

An end to 'nobility' and 'blood-lines.'

Perhaps one day in a century or two, an end to the absolute sovereignty of the Alicorns.

My dear sister had never been a fan of the 'separation of powers.'

But after all I'd done? And all I'd suffered?

I most certainly was.

If she wanted me to take a stronger hoof in Equestria's future? Then a stronger hoof I would take.

Chapter 22

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 23

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 12th, Gregorian Calendar

Alyra

Mom's wing over my back was a tremendous comfort. But I knew if I waited too much longer, that I might let my fear get the best of me, and I might never step out and get my questions answered.

I pressed into her side with my head for a moment, then made my way out from under the archway we had been standing under. As I passed out of the building, onto the tarmac, I changed to a bipedal stance, the asphalt below my paws soundless as the pads deadened the impact of my passing.

Being taller made me feel more intimidating, and that made me more at ease. I'd seen lots of other Gryphons use the bipedal stance for that purpose, Mom and Dad included.

I shot Mom one last small smile over my shoulder, and then approached the Human figure huddled in the lee of a small jet aircraft's boarding ramp. Mom had agreed to stay close, but to let me handle the conversation on my own.

More than anything, I needed to prove to myself that I could face this moment. Head on. And I needed answers to questions beyond my own bravery besides.

Be strong. It will all be over in less than half an hour, and that same plane that brought him here will take him back to wherever he came from. And you'll never see him again.

I cleared my throat as I passed under the jet's wing. Humans and Ponies alike seemed to prefer some sort of sound cue, rather than suddenly having an enormous predator appear directly inside their personal space.

The man glanced up, and did a sharp double take, gasping audibly. It was one thing to know what a Gryphon was, and another thing entirely to be so close for what was clearly the first time in his case.

A moment of quiet passed, punctuated by the general low thrum of voices, equipment, and aircraft further out across the pavement. The man finally exhaled slowly, his breath producing a little cloud of fog as he stared up at my eyes, as if trying to find something familiar there.

I kept my expression as neutral as possible, and extended a claw. Hesitantly, he reached out to shake it, stammering all the while.

"I... Ah... You... Uhm..."

"Alyra."

My name, in my voice, spoken almost like the ringing of a bell on a moonless night, seemed to shake him into more cogent thought processes. He nodded, and clasped his hands nervously at his chest.

"Alyra... That's a beautiful name. I... Don't imagine your birth-mother gave it to you... Not a Human name, obviously... I suppose your whole situation is much different than I imagined..."

I raised one eye crest and tilted my head, frowning slightly. He held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture, as if frightened by the intensity of my curiosity. His voice quavered, but he managed to keep to a logical train of thought.

"I knew you were a Convert... I pieced that much together. But... I didn't know you weren't a Pony. I know you've been travelling in the care of someone named Isaac Wrenn... At least for some portion of the past year. He's been all over the news. I knew he was a Gryphon convert... But there's nothing in formal records about you after that one medical entry... I wasn't sure if you were still under his protection, or elsewhere...?"

He sighed deeply, and scrunched his eyes shut. I saw fear. Pain. Stress. Sadness. Regret...

Written all over the stress lines of his face, much too deep for a man his age. He hadn't known. He hadn't put the pieces together and figured out what I was, or that I'd been adopted since then. How could he have? I wasn't formally April, adopted child of Isaac Wrenn by Earthgov law, but rather Alyra, child of Fyrenn.

Not enough connective threads for someone who might be digging to make a guaranteed connection.

It looked as though this man had as many questions as I did.

I sat back on my haunches, and reseated my wings, using the maneuver to buy time to collect my thoughts. Might as well start at the crux of it.

"Isaac Wrenn is my father. He goes by a different name now. I know you have more questions. I will do my best to answer them. In turn, I have questions for you which I want answered. But after that, your transportation back home has already been arranged. We won't see each other again."

I hadn't meant that to come out quite so cold, and harsh, but the man nodded slowly, and a sad half smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. I could hear something that sounded an awful lot like relief in his voice when he finally responded.

"In hindsight, I suppose your... Father would have taken the documents I filed in quite the wrong way, in light of your adoption. I didn't realize how things had changed, or I would never have filed for custody... I felt... A responsibility. But if you're well taken care of, not just being dragged around like baggage..."

He sighed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose again, rushing to qualify his thoughts as they tumbled out end over end.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I don't care what happens to you... Or that I'm entirely happy to be absolved of responsibility for you... I just..."

He glanced up, and I could see a glisten of tears in the corners of his eyes. I wanted to feel more sympathy for him. I certainly did feel some... But not as much as I wanted to. I held still, and waited for him to finish.

"I don't think I could have given you a very good life. We were never supposed to meet at all."

My ears flew forward, and tension sprang into every muscle in my hindquarters. The reflexive change in my expression produced a visible start, and fear reaction in the man, but he pressed on ahead nonetheless, perhaps realizing the danger in making me wait for an explanation to such a charged statement.

"Alyra... Your birth mother and I never had any sort of... deep relationship. Physical or romantic. She was a friend, and at one time a colleague. We were both botanists, and at one point when we were both much more sober, and steady, we worked at the same firm. But she told me that she wanted a child... She asked all her male friends for a genetic sample, and ran a compatibility check. Mine had the highest score... She asked me to donate my material as a favor."

The man collapsed backwards into a sitting position on the boarding ramp, a host of emotions flickering across his face before it was finally twisted into a paroxysm of grief far more intense than I had expected.

His next words, forced out through sobs, shed more than a little light on the reason for his pain. And mine.

"I made her promise to take care of you. She signed binding documents. Either she would give you a good life, and if she ever felt she couldn't, she would find someone who could. It wasn't until..."

His breath hitched, and I felt my own breathing stop.

"...She disappeared soon after I provided the donor material. Vanished without a trace. It wasn't until almost six years later that I learned for sure she had birthed a child by my donation. But she was already dead then. I could never find out why, or exactly what happened... But I did eventually learn that she..."

I knew what he was going to say, before he even said it. The certainty hung over my head like a leaden anvil. He could barely bring himself to air the awful truth. The words escaped as much as a cry of pain as anything else.

"She sold you. To a black market medtech operation. I was sure you were dead... Harvested for your organs."

Even knowing what the words would be, they hit with the force of a sharp blade driven between my ribs. I could feel the breath escape me through my beak as if I had been punched.

It wasn't hard to fill in the blanks from there. To finally piece together the exact truth with near certainty. It took me almost a minute to work up the wherewithal to open my beak again, and give voice to the rest of the tragedy.

My genetic donor spent the time crying softly, head tucked into his arms. I let my own tears flow freely, but silently as I tried to put words to something so evil that there should not have even been words for it in the first place.

At the sound of my voice, he finally raised his head, bringing his tear filled eyes to meet my own fully at last.

"I was... Used. As an experiment. I know plenty about the sorts of operations my birth mother... Sold me to. You're right. Most don't ever leave alive. Those that aren't harvested for organs and tissue are normally experimented on until they die. But EarthGov was looking for children with very specific genetic compatibility. As far as I know, I was sold on to them."

I inhaled slowly, and grit my beak, forcing myself to go on as an icy note crept into my voice, by and by overpowering the cracked timbre of sadness.

"They dumped me on the street. Saw to it that I was raised by, and alongside, others in the program. Cut me open. Fused something to my spine."

He winced visibly, more tears forced out as my words cut into him with the same sharp, frigid, dark blade that had just sliced into me.

"They killed anyone who tried to help us. Forced us to cultivate telekinetic powers. Primed and trained us endlessly for wars they could never have won. And then they killed my sister when Dad tried to help us to finally truly escape. The reason you saw his face on the news? Is what he did to them after that."

He blinked rapidly, and his mouth opened into an expression of pure unmitigated shock as multiple pieces fell into place for him all at once, the fallibility of Human memory giving way at last to clarity.

His voice held as much awe, and shock now, as it did pain.

"I saw you! I remember now! You were on the news too! You gave an account of what happened to you! You were already a Gryphon by that point... And I was... So drunk that night... It's a wonder I remember at all..."

As he sat back and buried his face in one hand, face twisted by an eclectic mixture of pain, shock, and revelation, I felt something in my own ribcage release.

This man had suffered. Made mistakes. Inadvertently contributed to making my life a living hell.

But without him, I wouldn't exist at all. Had he made slightly different decisions, I would not have been there at that moment to even meet him in the first place, and lay to rest some of his questions, and fears.

And if I hadn't passed through that dread crucible of my childhood, would I even be a Gryphon? Would I know Fyrenn, and Neyla, from Adam's house cat?

Every last iota of anger I had for the man in front of me evaporated like spring frost before the morning sun.

I reached out to place a claw on his shoulder. The gesture brought his eyes up to meet mine once more, and for the first time he truly looked deeply into them, rather than through or past them in shame.

I shook my head, and brushed gently at his eyes and cheek with the primaries of my right wing. He trembled slightly, first in fear, then in catharsis, as I wiped away his tears, and spoke as softly and warmly as I could.

"You didn't have any idea what she intended to do. What you did was irresponsible, but not catastrophically wrong. And you are far less to blame for any pain I have suffered than almost anyone from my past life. I need you to understand that. I want you to be free of the burden of that guilt. You don't owe me anything, except the answers you've given me."

He began to weep uncontrollably again as over a decade of suffering, stress, pain, and heartache began to pour out of him like a flood.

I had imagined many things about my genetic donor... But never this. I'd always pictured him as callous. Even cruel. Imagined that he had left me for dead on the street right there with my mother, or left her at some earlier point and pushed her over the edge to abandon me in the process.

I'd never pictured him as someone who had suffered pain from what my birth mother had done too... Until that moment.

I pulled him close with one wing and let him soak my shoulder with his grief, trying to provide as much closure as I could.

"I have an amazing life now. A father and a mother both, who love me, and care for me, and provide me everything I need and more. I have aunts, uncles, and friends too. I truly could not be any happier. You don't have to be afraid anymore, or feel any guilt. I forgive you."

We stood that way for several minutes as he worked out the emotional gall stone of his pain, until finally he had enough control to step back, and offer me a curious expression. Sadness still, but also gratitude, relief, and even peace.

His voice was hoarse from crying, but even, and surprisingly calm.

"I... Can't thank you enough. You don't owe me anything either, certainly. I made a terrible mistake. I've thrown a good chunk of my life away as part and parcel of all that... I could never have in my wildest dreams dared to hope that you would be doing so well, even once I learned you were alive. And I could have never dared to ask for forgiveness.."

He glanced up at the starless sky, and barked out a harsh, sad chuckle.

"All that, and you don't even know my name. I'm Edward. Edward Tillson."
Edward shook his head and bit his lower lip, scrunching his eyes closed as a gamut of emotions crept back into his voice.

"I... Honestly don't know what to do now. I spent so long bracing myself for the idea of caring for you. Trying to straighten myself out. Figure out how to care for us both... How to at least earn an end to your justified hatred, if not forgiveness. But what now? Frightened as I was by it... It was the only life I was really looking forward to."

His words brought on a sudden vision. A well lit, clean space full of plants, all alien, colorful, and bright. Edward sitting there beside other Humans, and Equestrians, working on the various flora of a distant world.

Happy. Safe. Given purpose. Separated from all the things that hurt and abused him, and which he in turn abused. Flung thousands of lightyears, and centuries from his past, to start over. A chance to start over free... Freed by forgiveness, and by change.

I gestured to the building behind me, offering Mom a short, warm smile as I did so. She nodded to acknowledge that she knew I was alright, even as I turned back to Edward, trying to keep my voice from sounding too excited.

"You said you were a botanist. Where the Genesists are going, they need experts like you. Badly."

He shook his head, and snorted, wiping at his eyes with the back of one dingy gray shirt sleeve.

"I'm a habitual drunk who lives in a government provided habcube, dumpster dives for food to supplement my stipend so I can spend it on things that rot me from the inside out, and I haven't done actual professional work in closer than not to a decade. I've got at least two groups of people who will move from cracking my ribs, to cracking my skull if I don't pay them later this month. There's no possible way a bunch of astronauts are going to accept me for their next flight."

I placed a claw on his shoulder again, and looked deep into his eyes, trying to transmit a sense of hope, and a spark to action, with my tone as much as my expression.

"I know Councilor Martins, personally. I will vouch for you. She will grant you a place on the next flight. Until then, you will live here. They will offer you detox. Remedial field training. Therapy. And in a year? You can leave everything behind. Start over. Have a purpose again. Help to explore. Learn. Grow a future for your species. Be free."

To my immense relief, I could see something click into place for Edward in that moment. A million threads that had dipped and weaved in and out through so much pain, and darkness, finally wrapped together into a cord of light that shot off into the future.

He began to nod slowly, running one hand nervously through his hair as he put thoughts into words haltingly at first, then with more surety.

"I... Can not imagine... Why you would do that for me. Forgiving me was miraculous enough. But... If you really mean it? I would do anything to have a chance to start again. To get away from this hell I made for myself."

I smiled, and gave him one last quick hug with both wings. Stay, or go, I knew it would be the last time we would see each other, for everyone's sake. Knowing that was something that would help us both was a relief eclipsed only by the knowledge of how much those few minutes had been truly worth in terms of catharsis, and forgiveness.

I could no more have imagined that he would gain a fresh start from our conversation, than he could have imagined that I would be ready to forgive him. I hadn't known until it happened whether I would have the grace within me.

God's grace, as far as I was concerned. How else to explain the release of all that bitterness?

Was this anything like what Dad had finally felt when he let go of his darkness?

I released Edward from the brief embrace, and gestured towards the next-nearest outbuilding.

"Go tell the desk sergeant that you're expected for check-in later tonight. I will have everything arranged by then."

Edward nodded, as if in a daze. A sudden thought struck me, and I plucked a near-molting feather from the inner edge of my wing. He stared at it as if someone had just handed him a brick of solid iridium as I pressed it into his hand.

"To remember, always; I forgive you. If you ever struggle to keep it in mind? Just look to that."

I stepped back, and then proffered my claw for him to shake once more. This time he gripped it with the enthusiasm of a man whose life had been poured back into him.

"Thank you. I can never thank you enough, Alyra. Thank you. And... Goodbye."

I nodded, released his hand, and turned to walk back to my mother. I could see her smile even at a distance.

As I went, I dried my own tears with the back of one claw, and whispered quietly to myself.

"Goodbye. And Godspeed."

Martins

I hated funerals. Somehow a funeral always felt like an admission of defeat; Death had claimed a life that could have otherwise gone on to make the world just a little bit better, and brighter.

In Astris' case that sense of loss went so much deeper.

I knew he would have... No... Was happy to know that it had not been in vain. Fyrenn had told him that much at the end, I knew from what Skye had shown me.

And too, she'd explained how it felt as though he'd not ceased to exist... Just moved on. I'd never been much of one for religion before. My realm was always science, whether the science of the stars, or the science of eking out cooperation between disparate self interested parties.

But Skye had been sure. So sure. And standing there beneath an ashen sunset, watching as Astris coffin was borne solemnly to the back of a waiting aircraft by four of Celestia's own Royal Guards, passing between two rows of assembled scientists, officers, and soldiers...

I needed the comfort of imagining what Fyrenn had quoted to Astris. Tolkien's 'far green country beyond.' Picturing it as real. As a place where Astris was. Where someday I'd see him again.

Skye had been incredibly brave through the process of projecting that moment for me, holding back her tears until she thought I couldn't see them. I knew she and I were both silently crying now. So was Fyrenn, and so were many of the assembled Genesist personnel who had known Astris the best. But Skye seemed the most visibly affected.

I knew Skye's sense of guilt was just as fruitless as my own. But I felt it keenly nonetheless. In spite of what we knew at last about how the Wisps truly worked, I couldn't entirely banish the feeling I should have still somehow been able to pick up on... Something. Anything.

While most everyone else present understood the solemn nature of Astris' sacrifice, and even the Earthgov Councilors who had deigned to attend looked suitably downcast, it was Celestia who seemed to be the closest to myself, Skye, and Fyrenn in terms of sheer grief.

Her mane seemed duller than it ever had before, even when I'd seen her tired. Her muzzle was cast as if in sculpted ice, her wings slightly mantled as she marched behind the simple Equestrian wood coffing, draped with a gold trimmed white royal flag, moving in perfect time with the pallbearers.

She was paying him the highest honor she could give a Pony in death. She'd assured me that Astris would be given full Royal honors for his internment in Canterlot's gardens. The same honors as a member of her own family, court, or guard.

And after that a monument, sufficient to ensure no one, Pony or otherwise, would ever forget his sacrifice.

As the procession neared the end of the line, a sound rang out across the tarmac. It took everyone by surprise, so much so that some of us jolted physically. It brought with it an almost magical sensation, like sunlight passing through cleans, clear spring rains that I could only imagine.

It took me a long moment to realize that it was Celestia's voice. That the Sun Princess, a being some believed, perhaps not without cause, to be a goddess, was singing in a voice low, and sad, but sweet.

"Rest at last, and be at peace; This journey over, cares may cease. Your life a gift, our loss your gain, your passing finished not in vain. Tho weep we now to see you go, we honor you, and live in hope. Once more again our paths shall meet, beneath the light of sun and stars, there at last again to greet, and never more to nurse our scars. We bid you go, in love, and peace, and find in death a sweet release; Knowing now that though we mourn, in endings are beginnings born."

Not for the first time, I was thankful the Equestrian common tongue had evolved on such a close parallel track to Earth's own common speech.

And I wondered, as it seemed for the briefest moment that the sun pierced the veil of the Winnowing more than usual, if Celestia's song had in it some kind of magic after all.

She held at the end of the two lines as the guards continued up the aircraft ramp, waiting and watching until Astris' mortal remains had been brought safely onboard. With a practiced clack of hooves against pavement the Solar Monarch turned with all the grace and practice of a parade steed, held her attention pose facing us for a moment of silence, and then released the tension in her shoulders.

The assembled beings began to break into smaller groups, conversing. Reminiscing. Perhaps wondering. Some still crying.

I made my way towards Skye, Fyrenn, Neyla, Hutch, Aston, and Alyra.

Gosh, that Gryphoness was something special. She'd approached me about her birth-father right before the ceremony. I hadn't hesitated to grant her request. It was the least I could do in thanks for all she had done. I didn't know if I could have been as forgiving as that young woman had been, were our places reversed.

Celestia made a bee-line for the group as well, stopping first before me to offer me a nod, and a sad smile.

"I want to thank you, for the opportunity you gave my little Pony to make such a difference in the lives of so many. He spoke highly of you the few times we conversed, and I agree with all his sentiments."

I nodded silently. For one of those rare instances in my life, I was at a true loss for words. Celestia shocked me by placing a wing over my back, similar to the gesture I'd seen from so many Pegasi and Gryphons when they wanted to show affection, or provide comfort.

Her next words did as much, if not more, to soothe my soul as the gesture.

"I have certainly not held out on you these past years Janet... But now is the time for making good of the gift he gave us. To the utmost. You have my promise that if we make it through the dark days coming, that before your next flight, I will commit the entire might of my Kingdom's production, science, and mage-craft to helping you. No matter what it takes. We will make up for all that the EarthGov has failed to give you, and more."

I surprised myself by reaching up to hug the Alicorn's neck, ever so briefly. Something about the gesture unblocked more of my tears, but I managed to keep my voice steady nonetheless.

"Thank you, Princess. I'd be honored to accept. And you honor his memory."

She withdrew as abruptly as she had embraced me, and moved on to Skye. I watched as the Princess knelt to bring her face down to Skye's level, sweeping her into a similar hug. Though her voice dipped into a low, soft tone, I could still make out the words.

"Rest easy, Skye Writer. You have done what was right, and acted with noble, pure, and kind heart. You are a better Pony than I, in all honesty. I commend you, and I absolve you. There is no guilt to be had from what you did. You and he have opened the door to save us all."

Through the feathers of Celestia's wing, I could see Skye's tears, and hear her sobs.

It struck me again how much the Alicorn and I shared certain things in common, most especially how much we cared for those whom we served and led. But seeing Celestia knelt there, pouring out a spirit of peace onto that broken little Unicorn who had probably just saved the world, again, I truly wondered if Celestia was a goddess.

Mayhaps not Divine in the capital-D sense...

But she certainly made a better deity than anything in most of Human myth and legend.

She cared. Deeply. For every single one of her Ponies. In a way that no Human had ever really cared comprehensively for every other, unless Jesus Christ had been a real person.

Fyrenn's voice interrupted my philosophical musings, and I brought up my eyes to meet his. I saw twin fusion core meltdowns of rage. Fury directed at the being who had put us all in this mess.

The honed steel in his words banished all thoughts of God, Heaven, and Messianic imagery, in favor of the cold hard present realities of war.

"I want to ask you for two unusual favors."

Oh boy. Someone was about to have the kind of day that would make them wish that there was a Hell, and that they could escape to it as a hiding place from one red Gryphon's fury.

I wasn't sure which was more of a relief; That I knew it wasn't me, or that I knew it was my enemies, who should be sleeping in fear tonight.

Fyrenn

I don't know which was more of a shock; That I'd heard Celestia sing for Astris, or that Martins had agreed to both of my insane requests. Especially the second one.

The first was pure practicality, and not much of an ask at all in concrete terms; To keep the suits of armor Genesis had provided for me, Neyla, and Alyra a little longer, and to provide one more for deployment. Alicorn sized and configured.

The second request was the special brand of ludicrous that would have made Aston's eyes pop out of her skull, so I'd made sure she was distracted, and kept my voice low when I voiced it. Lantry would have balked too, if he'd been there to hear it. Even Hutch might have voiced concerns.

Really anyone with half a brain who understood the complete implications of what I was asking would have questioned my sanity.

Only Skye, and Neyla, and now Martins knew what I'd asked for. Neyla because I wasn't about to keep any secrets from my bride-to-be.

Skye, because if I was going to manage to follow through on the request without killing us all, I'd need her expertise. She'd been all too happy to oblige. Frankly the look on her muzzle when I'd told her my idea had reminded me more of a Gryphon than a Pony.

I wondered briefly if her use of my brian patterns to shape her own had produced any lasting effects...

And I dismissed the thought just as quickly. Celestia had finished her conversation with Skye, and turned to face me with a smile.

"Your presentation to the Council was excellent."

I shook my head slowly, and felt my ears fall to a droopy position as I answered.

"Hardly. I would have rathered if they gave us an affirmative answer on the spot. I wouldn't give the best odds that they will say yes anyhow. I went too soft on them. I can't believe you agreed to spearhead the deployment, honestly. I know war is the farthest thing from your nature."

Celestia shook her head, and sat back on her haunches beside me, staring out at the runway as the aircraft bearing Astris' coffin taxied to the far end.

"It was an inspired idea, and may well be the thing that cinches an affirmative answer. I believe they will permit this assault, both because of your suggestion, and because you were balanced and measured with them. Even in spite of all you've done against them in the past. And while war is no friend of mine... There are things I hate more than war. To be frank? I should have done this long, long ago. The more I learn of Humanity's capacity for depravity, the more I think that perhaps you were right, and I was... Less right."

I chuckled, and turned to stare deep into the sadness behind her enormous violet eyes as I spoke again.

She seemed more... Mortal, than she ever had before. I couldn't tell how much of that was the way she'd become less formal, and more approachable around me, and how much was her clear exhaustion, especially down in her spirit.

"Perhaps. I think if anything 'less right' is as far as you should go with that. You have much more wisdom, and experience, when it comes to these things than I do."

She smiled, not quite a sad smile, but almost a forlorn melancholy. Maybe a kind of nostalgia, even. The sentiment crept into her voice as well.

"And you have much more potential, and talent, when it comes to these things than you give yourself credit for. Chalk that up as something about which perhaps *you* were 'less right.' I have seen the way you conduct yourself in your family affairs. The way you make, and keep friendships across lines others view as set in stone. Equestria needs the kind of future you envision, where a Changeling can embrace a Gryphon's daughter, in the study of the Canterlot Royal Sovereigns, and no one bats an eye. You had a very strong claw in making the foundation of that future. In making that moment happen."

I was never great at taking compliments. I hated the limelight, and I didn't like to be told I'd accomplished things. I was always content to just do them, and let people direct their gratitude elsewhere. Somewhere that would make me feel less like an undeserving prick.

With a sigh, and a shake of my head, I did my best to deflect the conversation without changing the subject.

"Give God the credit. What you just described is a miracle, in no uncertain terms. But you're certainly right about one thing. I want that future. I want it badly. And I intend to take big steps towards building that future. More than just finding a family. Someday, more than just building one very unconventional clan."

The way she beamed back at me took me by surprise. She could read between the lines, what little ambiguity I'd left there, and she clearly liked what she saw. Her mane was the brightest I'd seen it in a year's time.

So was her voice.

"Know that not only am I very happy for you, Neyla, and Alyra, but I am also wholeheartedly for any steps you might take towards a world with fewer borders and barriers. The nations of Earth fought hard in their past in competition with each other. I want a different future for our world, and you will have the full support of the Equestrian Nation for any undertaking to that effect."

She shot me a sly grin as I worked my beak and ears in surprise, and her voice dipped to a playful register that I'd rarely heard from her before.

"And, of course, if you want to have the sort of wedding no one will soon forget? Luna and I would be happy to arrange a Royal venue, with accompanying splendor. It would do wonders for Canterlot's Ponies to see the bonding of your kind. Make you more real, and approachable in their eyes."

I chuckled, both amused, and terrified at the mental image of getting hitched in front of a thousand Ponies, with demi-goddesses in the wedding party.

"I'm honored... But I suspect we'll be looking to do something quiet, small, and intimate."

The Princess winked and rose back to all fours, striding away slowly, and purposefully, casting a last sly glance over her shoulder as she fired her parting shot.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind. I will see you soon for the pre-assault planning session."

I opened my beak to ask her how she could be so sure the Council would say 'yes,' but closed it again immediately as I heard footsteps behind me. Soft shoes. Expensive leather. Practiced fast, purposeful stride, but not military... Politician.

I turned to see Councilor Lindstrom approaching with a smile. He extended a hand, which I shook with exactly as much cordiality as was required, and no more. For a Human, he was surprisingly hard to get a read on.

I couldn't decide if I liked him or not. His tone was certainly diplomatic, even jovial, as he spoke.

"Fyrenn. I was hoping I'd get a chance to speak privately with you before the formal announcement. As it currently stands, you'll just squeak by with the 'yeas' for your plan. But you're no stranger to thin margins in the Council, are you? Allow me to share my condolences on the loss of Astris Lux, and my congratulations for finally putting the last nail in the coffin of the PER. What you uncovered is nothing short of planet-reshaping."

He knew how to be professional, I had to give him that right off the bat. I nodded, and sighed deeply before responding.

"We can ill-afford to do any planet-reshaping at the blunt end of Humanity's weapons anymore. We face a common enemy. And if we fail to stop her? None of us has a future left to save, or destroy, or fight over. I hope your fellow Councilors fully understand the gravity of this. The horror of the gun pointed at the head of both universes."

Lindstrom nodded in turn, and tucked his hands into his pockets, shivering slightly at the late evening chill, and glancing out at one of the starship assembly bays.

"Indeed. It is a pity we didn't put more resources into this place, and sooner. Humanity itself would have a much larger, brighter, and safer future if we had. Regardless of what happens down here, or over there."

I caught a hint of something I didn't much like in his voice, and I turned to face him with a speed, and intensity that brought a suitably concerned look to his face, and a jolt of surprise to his thin frame.

I leveled one talon and gestured to punctuate my words.

"That sentiment means nothing if you don't right the wrong in the here and now. The second best time to plant a tree is today. And whether you people can scrimp together enough common sense, and honor, to pour real resources into Genesis or not? If we do not defeat the Nightmare you need to understand, clearly, with no room for false hope... If she wins here? Then she will hunt down Genesis too. Maybe not tomorrow or next year, or this century... But when she finally does?"

I whirled, and began striding away to catch up with Neyla and Alyra on the other side of the tarmac, tossing the last of my warning over my left shoulder.

"She will have the kind of power that makes even demons tremble. And Humanity will not survive."

Chapter 24 Author's Note

Let's have some specific mood music for the back half of this one shall we?

Chapter 24

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Thirteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Sildinar

"When was the last time that your kind, and mine, sat down together at this table?"

Luna raised an eyebrow, and glanced appreciatively around the chamber. The room occupied the entire top floor of one of the mid-sized towers of the castle, and had apparently previously been used by one of Celestia's students.

"Notwithstanding the obvious fact that your observation is metaphorical, rather than literal, because this specific table was obviously not the table in question... More than one and a half thousand years. Long before this castle, or this city, were built. Long before the first castle my sister and I shared was even a gleam in our eye."

As she spoke, I scanned the room with my eyes once more, taking in as much detail as possible.

One entire wall was given over to an impressive plate glass window, something that would have seemed more at home in Gryphon architecture than anywhere else, but for the fact that it could not open.

Much of the rest of the circular chamber's walls were given over to book shelving. The formed roof far above bore an ornate night sky mural, and was supported by columns that ended in carved horse heads.

Much of the previous furniture had been cleared out to make room for the addition of an immense circular wooden table. Judging by the stains in the surface, it had spent most of its life as a dining table for guardsponies.

Near the window stood an immense brass hourglass, perhaps too heavy to be moved out. Or on second thought, perhaps something Luna had left there intentionally to act as an immediate visual aid to the more recalcitrant, or hesitant members of the War Council.

Canny. As always.

Her next words reminded me that she was not only canny, but quite old, by even Gryphon standards. Alicorn age was best thought of in the same proximate terms as Draconic age.

"I remember those meetings well. That was before my sister and I had ascended. We were born into a dark, and difficult age. Much of what all of our civilizations had once been was then already lost to centuries of chaos amid Discord's wars."

I sat back on my haunches beside the table, and cocked my head to the side. Precious little accounting existed to describe the time at the end of the Chaos Wars. Virtually nothing existed of recorded history before that.

Most of what could be found was buried in Dragon hordes, or encrypted in Changeling Hives.

Celestia and Luna were not at all predisposed to discussing their early lives either, and I was both honored that Luna would confide in me, and boundlessly intrigued. I wondered just how
few beings over the millenia had been graced with the knowledge I was about to receive.

Luna took her place in one of the high-backed Pony chairs that had been brought up with the table. Apparently furniture more suited for Gryphons was already on-order. She continued in a dour tone, casting a thoughtful glance towards the hourglass as she did so, rays of the morning sun glinting off the brass finish and reflecting onto her muzzle.

"Celestia was an adept caster of magic even then. I was one of Pegasus-kind's strongest warriors. We never knew our sires and dams; Slain in the wars, or far worse. We were, and are, sisters bonded in battle and hardship rather than by blood ties."

I knew enough of the Chaos Wars to understand what she meant by 'far worse.' Discord himself was both the avatar of Chaos, and the chief practitioner of it, but hardly the most aggressive, nor the most dangerous thing those times had produced. The whole situation had started with him, and ended with him.

But it had gotten rather far out of his grasp by the end, with twisted versions of Ponies, Dragons, and Diamond Dogs contorted by magic run amok acting as vicious war lords and serial destroyers of civilization.

The magical natural disasters had been brutal as well, sometimes turning whole settlements into the stuff of nightmares. Tortured souls begging to be put down to escape the hell their existence had become.

Sealing Discord in stone had been but one of the necessary steps to restoring Thaumatic balance to the world.

Luna's words refocused my train of thought sharply as I first studied her expression, then watched the grains falling through the hourglass, counting each individual one, and marvelling at the way light played through it as I listened.

"We'd made good account of ourselves, and the War Council saw fit to invite us to attend as representatives of our tribes. The Alircons who then ruled Equestria, and would later go on to be our adoptive mother and father, presided together with the Gryphon who would go on to found your Kingdoms, a great Red Dragon named G'narax. Zebra, Buffalo, and other members from the three Pony tribes all sat on the Council as well."

I nodded slowly, picturing the incredible image in my mind's eye. We had a long way to go yet to achieve anything so magnificent.

"Your kind, and the Zebra, were the most important allies we had. While innate magic such as your birth magic, or cloudwalking, is relatively immune to Chaos, all actively wielded magic is terribly susceptible, as are any natural sources of it. The very thing Ponies, and even Dragons, most rely on in time of need could be twisted against us in horrible ways by both natural phenomenon, as well as the dark abilities of those tainted by Discord."

It struck me, as it always did when I thought on those times, how useful our nature was for dealing with corrupting physical or magical influences. Even Discord himself had no power over our forms.

All young Gryphons were taught about the vital role we had played as the only warriors on the battlefield completely immune to polymorphic or corrupting spells, and our first King's critical part in triumphing over Discord at the end of the Chaos Wars.

While Celestia and Luna worked to seal him in stone. Not a difficult realization to make, but an interesting one. I'd wondered before if they had been the element bearers during that final battle, but Luna's next words confirmed it outright.

"Without the defensive artifacts the Zebra made, and their magical expertise in general, we would never had had the hoofhold we needed to survive. Protected settlements. Enchanted armor. Detection magics. Without the Gryphons? We would never have been able to fight at all, much less reach Discord himself at the end. King Anvard shielded Celestia and I with his own two wings, fighting beak and claw with Discord's personal defenders and champions as we prepared the Elements of Harmony to do our grim work."

I nodded, and interjected a murmured thought as it sprang almost unbidden to my beak.

"His exploits are legend. His victory united our kind in a way in which we had not been brought together since before the Chaos descended. We've never fought with each other... We are physically incapable of striking out against another Gryphon with murderous intent, actually. But we were also sadly disinterested in interclan cooperation in those early years."

Luna raised one eyebrow, and shifted her gaze to lock with mine, responding with an almost chastising nip in her voice.

"Your kind nearly went extinct. There were far more of you before. More than even you likely remember. You have always been slow to grow your numbers, but quick to lay down your lives in battle. I fear that soon we must again lean on your valor, and sacrifice."

She looked up at the night sky mural above our heads, and my gaze followed her as she brought an end to the bittersweet tale.

"It was the act of sealing Discord that granted Celestia and I ascension to be Alicorns. Though all Ponies, of any kind, have the potential to reach this state, so few ever attain the precise combination of skill, experience, desire, harmony, and need, to unlock it. The ruling King and Queen were kind enough to take us in as their own. They raised us to be their successors, as is tradition amongst Alicorns. When they perished in the fight against Sombra... Failed to save the Crystal Empire from centuries of exile..."

Luna exhaled slowly, and hung her head. I could put much of what had come next together from my own study of history, but it was illuminating to hear it in her own words, difficult as they were for her.

"Knowing they died in vain was the thing that opened the door, deep down inside. Gave darkness a seed, and then a root, in my soul. I blamed my sister for trying to reason with Sombra. To stop the fight before it started. Neither of us could have known then that he was possessed by a Wisp. The same way the Nightmare possessed me. Only with the benefit of hindsight."

When she brought her head up to fix her sad gaze back on me, I could see she was fighting tears. For the moment, at least, she was mostly winning. But I could hear the tiniest hint of the depths of her grief in her words too.

"Far more than blaming Celestia for holding us back, I blamed myself. Felt that if I'd been more ready... Had more power... I could have saved them. After that, my sister and I drifted apart. I grew not only more loathsome of myself, but jealous of her. It took many years of sliding into darkness, and of allowing ever more of the Nightmare's whispers into my ears... But at last I granted her access. And the rest is both myth, and history alike."

I struggled to imagine her pain. To think of something I could say that would give her comfort. As I mulled, she laid a front hoof on the old oaken table, and traced the patterns of the grain absently with one hoofguard, muttering to herself all the while.

"All that we suffer now is born of my decision that day."

In frustration I slammed the palm of my claw against the table, almost by reflex. Her words lit an anger in me, not against her, but against the darkness inside that still gnawed at her. I did nothing whatsoever to restrain the anger in my voice, nor the accompanying volume.

"It is born of many facts and decisions. Most of all it is born of the Nightmare's malice. Far more is our last potential hope born of your actions. Without your insight into her? Your willingness to act to call this Council? The love you share with your sister that has kept her alive these last hard years? There would be no hope. You of all people should understand the danger in giving in to these kinds of recriminations. They are beneath you."

Her whole body stiffened, muzzle setting into an expression of resolve, and tempered fury directed at the same fell thing as my own rage. She nodded once sharply, and tapped her hoof hard twice against the table.

"Thank you. Well spoken. And practical as well... If we are to survive, this Council must be more than merely Ponies and Gryphons. And of those, we must have the best and highest in authority."

She gestured expansively to me with her right hoof, and right wing.

"I would ask that you request the presence of your own Father and Mother. I would have all three of you on this Council as equals to myself and Celestia. I intend to ask Inside Joke to sit as well. I will choose four Ponies to be representatives under me, as she will have the right to choose four Changelings to vote with her, and you should select four Gryphons to serve under you. I do not suppose that I need make any suggestions on that last point? I suspect your heart runs the same course as mine."

I nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of my beak as I began to picture the table filled with representatives. I confirmed it aloud.

"Oh yes. I have four Gryphons in mind."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 13th, Gregorian Calendar

Taranis

In the time before, when I'd gone by the name George Fried Puller, and worn a Colonel's bars, Yorktown had been home. Fireteam Sigma had been all the family I really had.

So much had changed in fifteen years. First Contact, and Conversion, loomed largest in that blink of a half-second of history. Yorktown had changed a great deal as well, now fitted to fully accommodate so many different kinds of soldiers, from two worlds.

Personally, the biggest change had been my own cobalt blue scales, and all that they brought with them. Chiefly in that change, perhaps, a very different perspective on time. It was not that the fifteen years felt as though they had passed more quickly than the fifteen before that, but rather that they did not feel as long looking back on them with Dragon's eyes.

I had friends from many species. All of them would be dead before I was middle-aged, save for the few other Dragons I had made some effort to get acquainted with, native at first, then convert later, when the official program had come to pass.

A sobering thought, but not an alien one. Leading soldiers into battle was familiar territory.

I had parlayed that grim experience into a sense of peace about the relationships I had with those whom I would long outlive. Providing I did not fall in battle myself, a fate which I took no issue with at all if it was to be mine.

It was certainly a better fate than dying of aggressive mutated bone cancer, as experimental quasi-legal medical nanites fought a slowly losing battle.

I had always thought death in combat would take me first. Counted on it, to spare me a horrific suffering end. And then came Contact. Those events had changed everyone's worlds, in striking and literal terms, and mine no less than anyone else.

My actions cost me my military career, and my treatments with it, but opened doors that I had not foreseen. The Gryphons were so fond of saying that 'Valor always brings its due.'

I suppose I'd become living proof of that.

For every ten dozen politicians who waste precious air and do more harm than good, there is a diamond in the rough who truly cares. I sided with the diamond. She did not forget it. When it came time for Dragons to seek pilot members for their program, I was still clinging to life.

She moved me to the head of the line.

Soldier, to geologist, to Dragon, and then warrior again.

Where death by spatial anomaly, railgun, suitcase nuclear warhead, or cruise missile had failed to free me from cancer's scourge, wings and claws and scales finally triumphed.

I watched the buzz of action on the hangar deck with keen interest, using the exercise in perception as a way to silence the louder voices of memory.

EarthGov had insisted that Army soldiers take part in the raid to come, and CAA-7s had been landing and taking off non-stop above our heads for the better part of the morning.

Alongside the disembarking heavy assault troopers, technicians moved to unload and prepare APCs, two L-RACs, several heavy powered armor suits, and six breaching mechs.

Further down the bay Ponies, Gryphons, Humans, another pair of Dragons, a few Zebra, and a half dozen Diamond Dogs worked to prepare squadrons of fighter and bomber aircraft, JRSF assault equipment, and a limited number of next generation powered armor suits loaned from the Genesists.

I was looking forward to trying my own equipment on, very shortly. I'd been told I had a Gryphon named 'Fyrenn' to thank for the fact that the Genesists had sent not only an Alicorn fitted suit, but multiple sets and armoring chambers for several species.

I knew of Fyrenn for the same reason most anyone else did, having followed current events, and I had always been interested in making his acquaintance. Doubly so since he was bringing such princely gifts.

The old Human salty soldier down inside was very, very pleased with the idea of even more armor, and weapons than were strictly speaking necessary for a Dragon. The part of me that was all Dragon had no complaints either, certainly.

Amongst the comings and goings of armored beings, munitions carts, and larger vehicles, I spied a familiar face. I'd been told to look out for a beak and feathers rather than the weather and world worn skin I'd last seen him in, and his new visage brought warmth to my heart.

I lumbered across a transfer aisle, suppressing a smirk as a tug operator had to step on the brakes more for his safety than mine, moving to embrace Hutch's foreleg with my own as my body cleared the line of travel and settled into the safe zone.

Hutch beamed and clapped my shoulder with his free claw as he spoke. I'd never heard him quite so happy in the year I'd known him. After the victory we'd shared at Fort Hamilton, we had stayed in touch, and even worked together on several more occasions, much to our mutual enjoyment.

"Taranis, you old jackass. How have you been?"

I cracked a grin of my own, noting with amusement that though he was still a fair bit smaller than I was, at least he was no longer pitifully fragile and tiny by comparison. I could at least embrace him without fearing for breaking his spine, and so I did.

"Hutch, you stinking feathery baggage; I am doing far better than you look. I see Fyrenn has fully led you astray at last. Surely you aren't intending to grace this mission with your presence? No offense meant, but I heard you made your change not even long enough ago to have full flight proficiency."

He splayed one wing and smiled at it as we released the half claw-shake, half embrace, and he sat back onto his haunches, as I did onto mine.

"No, Laura and I are here to sit in on CIC. Lend Brendt some of our expertise, and eyes and ears to run ops. I'd kill to be out there with you again... But I have the distinct sense there will be time for that soon enough. As for the feathers? You know I never wanted anything else. No offense meant."

In spite of myself I felt a deep chuckle rising in my diaphragms. I decided there was no harm in letting it out, for once. Best to enjoy the humor when one could.

"Ha ha ha! Oh I always knew you were the Gryphon type. It ran in your veins even before, the same as these scales ran in mine. In truth? You look excellent. A warrior reborn in noble shape, and not a moment too soon."

Hutch nodded, and exhaled in a whistling sound over the edge of his beak, his eyes widening slightly, and ears flattening in irritation, worry, and general distress.

"Damn straight. I know you've probably only been partially briefed, so let me tell you... I still ain't sure which scares me more. The *thing* that's waiting for you in Amazonia, or the fact that the Council finally handed the nuclear keys to a fucking Humanist, after you and I almost died saving their sorry asses at Hamilton. I can't decide which hurts more either. Some of the things I know about the Nightmare... Or the things I know now about what our own superiors spent most of our careers doing."

I shifted my sightline out back down the length of the deck. And old force of habit, leftover from deeply ingrained Human social normatives. I could hear the joviality drain from my words just as much as I could feel it leaching from my heart.

"I knew something was wrong a long time ago. Deep down at the roots. Your friend Fyrenn may be the talk of Centcom these days, but during the Contact incidents? I was the pariah of the hour. Putting thirty five thousand rail rounds through the bridge of an allied ship will have that effect on you."

Hutch whistled through his beak again, and shook his head slowly, meeting my eyes as my gaze returned to him. His head tilted in that Gryphic inquisitive way.

"I knew you were kicking around on this boat during the Contact incidents, and I knew you had serious red flags in your EarthGov military file... You suppose you can tell me the whole story sometime?"

I nodded, rolled my shoulders, and reseated my wings, tail reflexively lashing as the thought of discussing what had happened brought both a slight hint of nerves, but also anticipation. I had discussed those trials, triumphs, and failures with so few people. Most no longer living. The rest all in hiding.

"Gladly. But suffice to make a long tale short for the moment; The Council and central command have a long history of willingly allowing dark operations to work unethical objectives in service of their power. The HLF and Echelon Twelve are merely the evolution of splinters from the ExCET project."

Hutch expelled a great 'whuff' of air and his crest puffed up in the process. I bit back an amused smile. The subject matter was nothing to laugh about, even if the image of all his feathers puffed out was very much an amusing one.

"I thought that crap was an old noncom ghost story. Bullshit you tell around a camp stove in basic. Extraterrestrial Containment, Exploitation, and Threat response? Sounds like something even the finest connoisseur of pork expenditures would turn their noses up at."

Inclining my head, I allowed myself a small, sly grin at one corner of my mouth.

"I once believed so. Until one of their agents tried to use a nuclear device on the barrier, and then attempted to murder one of the chief scientists working on Conversion with a naval railgun. I disagreed with his decision making process. We could not reach a verbal agreement on a solution. I killed him and everyone on the bridge of that ship. It solved the problem quite elegantly."

In spite of myself, I found some enjoyment in the impressed look gracing Hutch's face. He shook his head slowly, and glanced down the bay in the same direction I'd looked.

"They picked the right people for this assignment. You and Fyrenn are going to be a terror together. You think a lot alike. You'll get along like a house afire. Not sure the world is ready for that... I'm still tryin' to get over him and Neyla and Alyra all together."

As he mentioned their names, Hutch gestured with a claw, pointing out the three Gryphons each to me in turn. I recognized Fyrenn from the news broadcasts. Alyra as well, from the interview she had given. Several connections fell into place for me all at once, and I fully understood not just the moral reasoning behind what Fyrenn had done, but the emotional reasoning as well.

I let out a deep appreciative thrum in my chest, and clapped Hutch on the shoulder as I rose to all fours.

"Now you truly have me interested. Perhaps you would be so good as to provide an introduction?"

Hutch stood to his hind legs, and chuckled as he began leading the way down one of the transfer aisles.

"Sure. And may God forgive me."

Fyrenn

As the hiss and whir of machinery died away, and mechanical arms scissored back into the storage bays from whence they came, I couldn't resist an appreciative whistle.

Judging by Alyra, Skye, and Neyla's expressions, they shared the sentiment in full.

Clad in the dark gray composite armor plating, trimmed at its edges in gold, and emblazoned on the wing joint, front shoulder, and peytral with a blazing sun, Celestia looked like something out of an ancient epic carved on a temple wall.

Even in the undeployed configuration, the Genesist armor gave ten times the coverage of her usual ceremonial regalia. As a post-fitting diagnostic cycle triggered, the rest of the plating blinked into existence with a sound resembling tank treads rolling on thick steel decking.

Covered muzzle to flank but for her tail, her mane, her horn, and part of her face, she presented a hostile, warlike figure. Though grim, and resigned, her expression was one of unmistakable anger as well. Another novelty for me; I'd never known her to be anything but compassionate and peaceable.

Maybe frustrated at times. Never furious.

And she was furious.

I could tell she had been working herself up ever since she arrived. And far more so once she had learned what the Nightmare had done. Having a slightly more complete understanding of what had happened to Luna, I was not surprised.

Celestia took any threat to her Ponies personally. Veritas had hurt her host, nearly killed Luna, doomed the Earth to die, forced Skye to take a life, and made Astris' a living hell. To say nothing of the damage the HLF had done at Nightmare's own behest.

For the first time in three years of knowing her, I saw a killing fire dancing through the violet glint of her eyes. The spirit of a warrior long buried, sleeping since the end of the time of Chaos.

And now reawakened.

Someone was about to regret not just their choices, but perhaps their very existence itself.

A small part of me hated to think what she was going through. A much louder, more significant part was thrumming with pure distilled anticipation. I wanted to see my enemies scream. Writhe. Panic. Take their own lives in fear at the mere suggestion of what was coming.

My warrior's wrath had never been buried, or stilled for any significant period of time. I was no stranger to the stellar fusion of hatred for an enemy that deserved it. And the Nightmare, and her ilk, were the most deserving things I could imagine ever existing.

For what she'd done to Astris, I was angry. That she had nearly forced Robert to kill me, and thus ended his life? That made me livid.

That she had almost killed Aston opened the door to the kind of furnace that could power a battleship.

What her actions had forced Skye to do? What the doing of them had in turn done to Skye?

That pushed me over the edge of the red line.

There would be time for arguments about the best course of action later. I would hear them out, at very least.

But as far as I was concerned, this war was only going to end one way.

I was going to see to it that the entirety of all Wisps were exterminated. Violently.

Celestia could talk ethics and diplomacy after I was done burying the shattered corpse of their entire species in a hole so deep that the Devil would have to dig to find them.

Ethics of genocide be damned. I'd seen directly into the hive mind of their whole civilization. I knew in agonizing detail what they had planned for us. To brook negotiation with something whose safe future existence depended mechanically, inextricably, on damning everyone else's?

Worse. To even think of mercy for beings who didn't just need to murder and enslave... But gloried in it by nature?

Not while I drew breath.

The sharp rap of Celestia's front right hoof against steel snapped me from my red-soaked reverie.

The Alicorn had stepped to the top of a stack of cargo crates, and the impact of her hoof had been both severe enough to dent the top crate, and loud enough to overpower every single sound in the hangar deck.

Within just a few seconds, all activity ceased, and all eyes fixed on the Solar Monarch, including Hutch, and a large blue Dragon whom I vaguely recognized, as they moved to join our group.

"Soldiers of Earth, and of Equestria! Hear me!"

Her voice seemed to fill the space as if it had been blasted through the ship's One-MC. Her appearance was almost backlit by sunlight, and her mane was surprisingly bright in and of itself.

Even weakened, and tired, she was like the avatar of a star descended to Earth to dispense cleansing fire.

I'd never heard such an intense edge of forged steel in her voice. Though it saddened me, knowing what she had to dredge up to reach that place of strength, it also gave me hope. We'd all have to fight if we were going to survive. And there was most definitely a fighter deep down inside her.

"We face extinction. Even as the Earth is consumed, dark forces seek to rule Equestria. To enslave Ponykind. To kill and burn all who will not serve. The being your briefing packets called Veritas, or the Nightmare, is older than I. Older than our recorded history. Or yours. She is vast in power, and boundless in her hunger. She has worked tirelessly for more than a millenia to lay both of our worlds in ruin. She has come very, very close to success."

No one in the entire hangar deck moved. I wondered privately how many of us had stopped breathing momentarily. I could see so many faces. Humans, Ponies, Gryphons, and a few from at least three other species besides.

Soldiers from two sides, still teetering on the brink of war themselves. There was more than a little appropriate fear, and awe, in the eyes of the EarthGov army soldiers. That too gave me a sliver of hope.

Nothing quite like a common enemy to unite the uncooperative. Celestia knew that too. Her words spoke volumes to that effect.

"Whatever grievances you have. Or fears. Lay them aside. As always, I fight to protect all who will accept a hoof in friendship. For the first time in your lifetimes, I will now lead that fight from the field of battle."

Celestia slowly swept her eyes across the assembled forces, seeming to search out and pierce every individual somehow with a personal glance.

"Make no mistakes, and hold no preconceptions. This is no longer the time for mercy. We will save those we can from this dark and foul place... But take no unnecessary risks to do so. Give mercy only to those who surrender at once. They are to be treated with care, but above all utmost suspicion. Those who do not should be slain without hesitation. Give no quarter. Human. Canine. Or Pony."

I knew those words cost her as much in spirit as the act of saving Vancouver had in body. Thinking back to how hard it was for me to overcome my built in sense of Ponies as something to be protected, I could only guess at how much it was going to hurt for Celestia to have to take their lives with her own horn and hooves.

But she'd seen what Skye and I had seen. Felt the magical side as well, which Skye could also reproduce for her in memory. She knew even more keenly than I did, the favor and mercy she would be doing to those who would be better off dead.

"Gather your strength! Sharpen your valour! Steel yourselves. For any who have ever lost someone to needless violence. For those of you who had your choice taken away, or know someone who did. For those who will come after us, seeking a better future. Today, we fight. Make ready."

The plates in my ears snapped shut as a tremendously loud sound echoed from the bulkheads, my own throat a contributor; A melange of Draconic roar, Gryphon keen, Human cry, Canine howl, and Equine whinny.

If there was ever a sound that Hell itself feared? That was the sound.

As the war cry died away, the blue Dragon rose, and extended a claw and foreleg. I grasped it enthusiastically as he introduced himself, and Hutch confirmed my suspicion.

"Fyrenn, this is Taranis. I think you two know of each other... Not sure anyone is safe now that you *know* each other."

I grinned and inclined my head in a gesture of respect; Rare for a Gryphon to bestow on a member of another species with whom we weren't more personally familiar. He returned the gesture in kind as he spoke.

"Gratifying to meet the one Hutch thinks of as a son at last. He never ceases to talk of you. It will be good to have you at my side in this battle."

With a nod, I released the foreleg hold, and dipped my head towards Hutch as I responded.

"I owe you much, not just for saving us all with your actions at Hamilton, but in particular for saving his thin wrinkly old skin. I'm glad to have a chance to fight alongside you, and I hope soon enough we will all share the battlefield together."

Hutch reached out to clap me reassuringly on the shoulder, then turned to search for Aston.

"I'll leave you to it. Laura and I have to get settled in mission ops. Come back alive, the both of you. Or I swear I'll hunt you down and kill you."

Taranis and I watched the ex-General depart, weaving carefully through the fray of piloted and drone tugs, munitions carts, cargo sleds, assault vehicles, and other armored beings.

I couldn't resist a small personal observation as we watched.

"I have never seen him happier. It's like becoming one of us freed a part of him that had been withering and dying his whole life. It took me three years to get to that place fully."

Taranis thrummed deep in his chest, the deck below our paws and claws resonating in time to his words as he turned to look at Neyla, Alyra, and Skye.

"For those of us who truly adjust to the change, I think that sentiment will always be true in some way. Is this your storied family, about whom I have also heard so many good things?"

With a nod, I gestured with my left wing, and introduced each in turn.

"This is Neyla, my mate soon to be. Alyra, our daughter. And Skye, who you'd best think of as a sister to me if you want to easily understand what she means to us all."

I caught the tiniest flutter of something crossing Skye's muzzle, in spite of all the armor plating surrounding the back and top of her head, but it was gone in an instant. And I was struck even harder by something else.

As Taranis sat back on his haunches and brought his head down to speak to my family, I felt as though a jolt of lightning had hit my nervous system.

"I am honored. Stay close to me in the battle to come, and no harm shall befall you, come whatever hellions may. Together, we will make our enemies rue the curse of their birth!"

Hearing his words, and seeing his smile, along with Neyla's appreciative smirk, Skye's relieved smile, and Alyra's awestruck grin, I realized that Taranis was one of the Dragons in my vision from the core chamber.

Just as William, Shierel, and Miles had been there too... Now that I gave it careful thought and detailed mental review. And Hutch, and Aston... Their colors and patterns had turned out exactly as I'd seen them in that moment.

I wondered with a start, accompanied by a physical reflexive jolt, whether what I'd seen was no mere hope nor dream, but an actual vision of a possible future. Not necessarily a far fetched idea in the context of some of my more spiritual experiences...

The idea gave me resolve. Pause, and consideration, gave way to grit-beak determination.

If we made it through the coming battle, I'd ask Taranis to join our small but growing clan as well. I liked him. I knew he was one of the best friends Hutch had outside our unofficial family group...

Keep your friends close.

And your family closer.

Skye

I'd spent plenty of time around feathers, and all his military types. Seen a few pitched battles. I'd even been on warships before. But I'd never been a part of anything quite like the world I found myself in on the Yorktown.

There should have been more fear. Maybe even more guilt and pain. But I had four strong comforts to lean into.

First, and maybe most important, I'd made myself a promise; I would take no Pony lives on this mission.

I wouldn't have to.

During the mission briefing, before we'd all descended to the hangar to suit up and kit out, Celestia had informed us that she would shoulder the responsibility of freeing those who could be freed. And killing those who could not.

Alicorn magic, applied to the spell I had worked out for Astris, would allow her to instantly free anypony who was still able to be freed. The price for that would be the deaths of those too far gone. Worse, because the way she had re-engineered the spell to be focused on disruption, the Wisps inhabiting those Ponies already doomed would only be dazed for a few seconds.

And then they would still have full control of fully functioning bodies.

We'd all agreed the trade was worthwhile, to the point that we had declined to even mention the other option to EarthGov; Dropping our remaining antimatter warhead on the facility and taking no risks whatsoever.

If some could be saved, risks were worth it. That, and the chance to have access to PER computer systems, equipment, and even non-possessed prisoners who might shed further light on the horrors we were trying to excise.

My other three pillars of support were people. There was Celestia herself... Seeing her in that armor, I finally understood a little bit of the mentality of those dimwits who worship her. But only a little.

Goddess? Nah. But a good friend? Someone who cared? A really, really, extraordinarily powerful mage? Yeah. Definitely. Great thing to have on your side going into the fray.

Three Gryphons too. Fyrenn, Neyla, Alyra... The best of the best.

And then there was the new guy. Taranis. Hutch had talked a little about him before...

I liked to sort people into lists. Mostly as a fun exercise in classification, like the way Humans seemed obsessed with sorting quizzes and personality types, but also as a kind of therapeutic mechanism.

I had a particular list... Not one I ever shared, or wanted to share, with anyone else. People I would be attracted to, or at least interested in exploring attraction to, if I was remotely comfortable feeling attraction.

Not a lot of people made that list. Varan was one. IJ too, though I'd've sooner cut out my horn than tell her that.

Taranis had just made the list.

If you have never fought a battle beside a Dragon, let me tell you something; There's no feeling like it. You're safer under a Dragon's wing in the middle of Armageddon going down, than you are walking down a sunlit boulevard on a fall day in Canterlot.

When he stepped onto the Dragon-sized armor framer that Martins had provided, and those angular gray composite plates went on over his blue scales, trimmed like all of ours now were in Celestia's gold, and sunburst emblem...

Damn.

Forget your nukes, or your battleships. You can keep your swords, your particle beams, magic spells, or your fully armed and operational carrier air wing.

A Dragon in a power suit, studded in particle weapons, and missile hardpoints, with impulse drive impellers strapped to his shoulders is maybe the closest thing to packaging the actual unexaggerated power of a Nuclear weapon in something that doesn't explode.

I felt very, very small, marching behind Celestia, Alyra at my side, flanked by Fyrenn and Neyla, with Taranis bringing up the rear of our diamond formation. In a strange way, feeling small compared to them was comforting.

Believe you me, I knew my own strength. I'd had to fight plenty in my life, even before I met red feather britches. Put me in between three Gryphons, an Alicorn, and a Dragon?

If Veritas was stupid enough to still be home when we came knocking, it was going to be the last mistake the little shithead ever made.

I was gonna see to that personally, even if I had to break my promise.

All eyes in the bay were on us as we marched onto one of the fighter jet elevators. Our group took up the entirety of one platform. I desperately hoped that someone would snap a picture. I wanted to have that moment memorialized for all time.

We looked like archangels marching off to cast Satan and his demons into the pits of Hell. Maybe in a way, that's exactly what we were.

The steel and concrete pad rose slowly, bringing us from the harshly blue toned light of the hangar bay, and its echoes of final preparatory work, up into the howling din of a flight deck in the middle of combat launch operations.

The smell of aviation fuel and hot metal under tension was intense.

VTOL capable fighters, gunships filled with shock troops, and medium lifters with underslung APCs taxied in orderly lines from parking rows, and other elevators, to their takeoff points, rising elegantly on cushions of air as flight deck officers directed their tug drones with hand signals.

Bombers practically pregnant with heavy assault ordinance queued behind the magnetic catapults, zipping off into the gray afternoon fog just as quickly as the deck crew could get them unhitched from their tugs and strapped to the launch rails.

Formations of Ponies and Gryphons in heavy JRSF and Genesist assault armor marched in phalanxes to departure points at the sides of the ship, leaping into the air in orderly rows, first under power of their own wings, then switching over to the impulse or turbine flight assist boosters mounted to their shoulders.

Four other Dragons, two of them significantly older and larger than Taranis, were hovering at the stern, in the process of lifting L-RACs beneath them.

The immense bombardment canons were clutched like gigantic military toy sets in their claws, as Human shock troopers clung to hardpoints in their armor, and anti-ship sized missiles bristled from launch rails on their backs.

God-DAMN.

Whoever or whatever was waiting for us had no Earthly idea just how much fire and fury was coming.

Following Celestia's lead, we marched to our own takeoff point, and each silently completed the pre-start checklist for our flight boosters. A stubby set of fins irised out from housings on my shoulders to provide long duration lift assist to the thrusters in the absence of natural wings.

Hutch had laughed and made a 'Buff Lightbeer' reference when he first saw them. Or Light Buzzyear. Or something like that.

Fyrenn glanced down, and brushed my side with one wing as the whine of turbine jet engines mixed with the lower tooth-rattling thrum of the Genesist impulsive drives on our own shoulders.

"Whatever happens, like Taranis said; Stay close. And don't forget... Like Aston said... You are a steely-eyed missile mare."

As we leapt into the air in sequence, thrusters firing, and wings unfolding, to join the gargantuan formation of warplanes, Dragons, Ponies, Gryphons, and attack VTOLs...

I actually felt like the words were true. For once in my life.

Chapter 25

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 26

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 13th, Gregorian Calendar

Alyra

I suddenly understood how Dad must have felt that first year of trying to learn how to fight as a Gryphon.

The disparity between what he and Mom could do, versus what I could handle, must've been about the same as the disparity between him and Mom when they first met.

If I were facing even one of those Wisps alone, it would have been a tough fight. Winnable, but tough. It seemed like they were all measurably slower, and less durable, in Earth's magic-deprived spacetime. Still extremely dangerous, but not as intractably fearsome as Dad had described them to be in Equestria.

What I was pinwheeling through the center of was far less any kind of one-on-one battle, and much more a contest of two armies. Maybe the best word to describe it would have been 'tornado.'

I was deeply, deeply thankful for the infallible sense of 'Up' and 'North' that Gryphons seemed to share with Pegasi, Dragons, and Alicorns. Even a trained Human fighter pilot might have been, at bare minimum, fatally disoriented by the colossal tangle of smoke trails, lightning strikes, magic blasts, particle lances, railgun rounds, VTOL blades, jet contrails, and furiously beating wings.

But as a flighted creature? Complex aerial ballet was my element. My inner ear didn't seem to factor into balance and the horizon the way it had as a Human. It felt more like I had some unshakeable sense of orientation relative to all that mattered. Maybe a quantum effect.

As to the fighting? All I had to do was keep my primary focus on surviving. I could take a swipe with my sword, or a shot with the pistol I'd been issued whenever I saw an opportunity, but my main focus was staying between Mom, Dad, and Taranis, in the unassailable pocket of protected air the four were creating for myself, and Skye.

And then there was Celestia.

The Wisps seemed most frightened of the Gryphons, and Dragons, but she was doing far more direct damage to them than either combined group. The Human soldiers, and all their attack vehicles, were doing half decently, but nothing compared to the damage the Equestrian fighters could do. And to the rest of us, Celestia was like a sun to a candle.

Paradoxically, the Wisps seemed most focused on the Princess. Much to their detriment, as every charge they made against her was broken violently by either the inescapable flame of her rage-fueled plasma, or by the metaphorical steel wall of Taranis, Skye, Mom, and Dad all focusing and coordinating fire.

The rest of Arinna, including the other Dragons, and the Human attack vehicles seemed to be making the best use of heir firepower by either circling the outside of the Wisp cloud and firing unreservedly into it with every weapon they had, or making jousting runs through the cloud, churning up dead Wisps in their wake.

From the size of the cloud of energy forms dissipating upwards into the sky, I could easily tell that we were only truly eliminating about a third of the enemies we were facing.

The rest were just being ejected from their bodies safely as the combat platforms got shattered, melted, fused, dusted, and vaporized by the cacophony of magic, magnetic weapons, particle beams, missiles, breath weapons, and sharp edges attached to both body and blade.

I realized all at once as my blade carved lethally through a Wisp's weakened spinal armor, scored by Taranis' breath, exactly why Echelon Twelve had been scared enough to make the decision to brutalize children in the name of defense.

It didn't exonerate them. Nothing could. They had made not just the wrong choice, but an evil one.

But it did explain their fear.

Fighting alone, even if every soldier had access to Genesist weapons and armor, no Human army could have survived contact with something like this. Gryphons alone with our swords and bows were more than capable of defeating EarthGov, so great was our biological advantage.

In a pitched battle, Wisps matched that, even on Earth. If they invaded in greater numbers, even Nuclear armaments would not put the slightest dent in them, and that was without accounting for their ability to 'eject' from the host, and take a new one.

If they ever gained access to limitless breeding and cloning stock?

I had to fight hard to suppress a reflexive shiver as I backflipped over Skye, and put four successive pistol shots into a Wisp that she had already weakened with her magic. A follow-on blast from her horn, timed to arrive at the same time as my fourth shot, killed not just the bone platform, but the Wisp inside, with a satisfying hissing, popping shrieking sound.

That was undoubtedly going to be our greatest loss of advantage in terms of fighting on Equestrian soil. The peculiar interaction that killed not just the host, but the parasite, was not something that could easily be done with magic alone.

Celestia could obviously do it, most likely in my estimation through pure raw strength of energy across a broad spectrum.

But Auntie Skye had spent many hours, far too many that she should have spent sleeping instead, trying to find an entirely magical way to achieve the effect at lower power levels.

To no avail.

That didn't mean it was impossible... But it was probably not going to be easy, or readily mass produced in time to fight a war.

As Mom and Dad became primarily entangled with pushing back a particularly vicious assault together with Taranis, I changed strategy to work directly in tandem with Skye.

We operated like a chain gun turret, with me picking targets and filling them with particle energy to soften them up, Skye providing shields for us and firing the final magical bolt to coincide with each final particle lance to kill the Wisp inside the target body.

We were excellent at it. I dearly hoped we could find a way to replicate whatever aspect of the particle energy was so detrimental to the Wisps, whether or not we could actually weaponize that advancement in any other meaningful way.

If we could just find some technological way to replicate whatever energy wave was the critical component, Skye could teach Unicorns the accompanying spell by the hundreds, or the thousands. We could pair a Gryphon with a Unicorn as fighting tandem units...

We could have a chance at not just defeating the Wisps in a single engagement, but permanently for all future potential engagements. Rob them of their greatest advantage.

"Oh FUCK!"

It was so much the wording, as the tone, that brought a rising sense of fear to my chest. Auntie Skye was not one to panic, even in the heat of battle. My head first went reflexively to her horrified expression, then laterally to an attacking Wisp to skewer it with my sword, then outwards to the source of Skye's horror.

No less than seven Wisps had managed to clump together, sacrificing dozens of their compatriots as an armored shell to corkscrew down through our field of fire, and had latched onto Celestia's hooves, head, and back.

I could see exactly which ones Mom and Dad had picked to kill. Taranis was busy trying to shield us all as Celestia lost the ability to see and fire cogently at the enemy.

That left me and Skye as the only reinforcements that would be able to make a difference.

We shared a tenth second glance, and I shouted into my headset to make myself heard, flicking my right 'pinkie' talon to change to a direct channel.

"WE HAVE TO FREE HER HEAD! TUCK IN AND CUT YOUR THRUSTERS!"

I don't know whether she just trusted me enough to act without knowing, or whether Skye understood what I was planning from the get-go, but regardless, she did exactly as I asked.

I stooped, tucking my own wings into shapes intended to minimize drag under powered flight, and forcing the throttle on my impulse drives all the way to their red-limits. The hardest part of snagging Skye without hurting her was ensuring I dug into her armor enough to get a grip, but not so far as to pierce any weak points with my talons.

The collision produced a fairly big jolt for both of us, but in just a half second, Skye was slung under me, and we were flying down at Celestia's head at a good clip that my HUD told me was approaching three hundred KPH.

Much faster and I figured we risked hurting both Skye, and Celestia.

"YOU'RE TAKING THE ONE ON THE RIGHT, I'VE GOT THE LEFT, PUT YOUR SHOT AT YOUR THREE O'CLOCK LOW ONCE YOU COME OUT OF THE SPIN!"

A brief nod was all the confirmation we had time for. As Celestia's form drew close ahead of us, I rolled and ejected Skye with a shove that put her into a flat spin at just the right rate, and angle.

Starting a mental countdown, I vectored hard true-left, up-relative, and tucked into my own spin, shoulder-slamming the Wisp on the back of Celestia's neck so hard that the impact shattered its front legs, knocking the body completely loose from them and slicing clean through the armor.

As yellow warning markers covered my back and wing armor from the shock, and my nerves cried out in protest, I clamped down on the foreleg-less body, and struck at its head with my beak, and tail with my back claws, to keep it from attacking me properly in retaliation.

Sometimes its just easiest to be first to the punch.

The acrid taste of crystalline metal alloy filled my beak as the hooked edge eviscerated the Wisp's helmet.

I reached zero in my mental countdown, and allowed my enemy to wriggle free, tilting my head slightly to my relative left, and firing my pistol point blank into its right eye socket.

The particle beam passed through the eye socket, out the back of my enemy's head, and directly into the back of the head of the Wisp Skye had herself just disengaged from.

Her magical bolt was timed to the microsecond, and impressive feat for a Unicorn, and it appeared even in my decelerated time to occupy the same space as the particle blast for a whole tenth of a second before it whizzed past the tip of my right ear, as my bolt passed under the barrel of her chest between all four legs.

Both Wisps dropped lifeless as the final screams of the parasites made sweet, sweet music to my ears.

Two for one special.

We had no time to celebrate. Instead, we were forced to double back and start picking off the vanguard of another attack formation rising from below.

But if we survived?

I knew we were never going to stop talking about that shot to anyone who would listen.

Neyla

I'd seen reckless fury many times before.

Too many times looking back on my own decisions and battles for comfort, particularly from my youth. Being alone in the world can quickly temper those behaviours, for those wise enough to learn the lesson.

But never would I have expected such behaviour from Princess Celestia.

In hindsight, as it so often does, it made perfect sense. We are all driven powerfully by emotions at heart, especially Equestrians, of any stripe.

The nerve Nightmare had prodded in Celestia was the same one the Trolls had once awoken in our kind, unto their own ruin. I could only hope and pray that likewise Celestia's fire and fury would be the Wisp's ruin, rather than ours.

She had been chewing through them the same way a Terran auto-harvester slashes kelp in their strange vertical silo farms.

Right up until they had gotten seven of their foul bony fighting armatures onto her.

I suddenly found myself locked in a death struggle with the one that had taken her right wing, even as Fyrenn moved to destroy the one that had snagged her left wing. We both knew that while freeing her head was important, if she lost controlled flight, she could be injured enough from the fall to provide the enemy an even larger opening.

How I wished she'd just listened to Taranis.

We were killing a significant number of Wisps, truly killing, but the better tactical strategy in my opinion would have been to shell the entire region, uninhabited as it was, with a smothering blanket of heavy naval railgun fire for a solid half hour.

Maybe throw in a few thousand of those magnificent 'JDAM' conventional warheads that the Humans had perfected so well over the centuries, and a brace of a hundred cruise missiles, tipped with Phosphorus/Napalm mix hybrid fuel air weapons, for a light chaser.

It wouldn't have killed any of the Wisps outright, true, but the quarter-gigaton-equivalent force application would have cost them all of the combat forms present, without putting anyone at undue risk.

Instead, we were fighting beak and claw now for Celestia's life, and by extension in many ways, our own.

Apparently the same thought had occurred to Fyrenn, because he was already shouting into his radio even as I caught glances of his own dance of death in fits and spurts between my own maneuvers.

"STRIKECON, ARINNA-ONE-FIVE; ONE-SIX IS INCAPACITATED! SOUND RETREAT! PULL THE TASKFORCE FROM THE AO! PREPARE FOR FULL SCALE ORBITAL BOMBARDMENT, FOLLOWED BY NAVAL RAILGUN STRIKE!"

Now there was a pair of words I'd never heard before in a practical battlefield context.

Orbital Bombardment.

Occupied as I was, I still had a few neurons leftover to appreciate hearing my love talk about heavy weapons.

And a few more to realize that it was the right call. The Shenzhou's particle beams could cut right through the Wisps without harming us, even as we retreated in close proximity.

Once their pursuit had been foiled, Naval artillery combined with particle beams would cleanse the area of everything, reducing bleached petrified trees, soil, and rocks alike, to a uniform glass-like ash.

"NO! WE MUST--- AUUUGH!!!"

Celestia's attempt at a countermand was cut brutally short, as the Wisp I was engaged with plunged its tail into the root of her right wing. The limb ceased to function instantly as the tail barb found a relatively thin, and further battle weakened crease in her armor, cutting through plating, gel layer, energy matrix, fur, muscle, and down into bone in one swift stroke.

An enormous streamer of blood burst from the wound, covering Celestia, myself, and the Wisp.

A sound that I imagined was something like the first primal battle cry of the first Gryphon to ever live ripped from Fyrenn's throat, and I saw him snag his Wisp's head in both wings, dropping like a stone as his flight was arrested.

With a flick of a control, he fired both wing thrusters in a counter rotational pattern, the force popping the Wisp's head from its shoulders. As he spread his wings to diffuse the momentum of the maneuver, he unleashed his rifle on overcharge, vaporizing the creature's body and head both with a perfectly aligned shot.

I had to wait until I was done with my own opponent to truly process what had happened simultaneously to my own engagement.

During the same moment, I brought my sword down as hard as I could onto my Wisp's tail, vaulting over its back, and firing all my suit thrusters to drive the blade down and in, like an impulse-drive-powered guillotine.

The motion severed the foul thing's tail, armor plates and all. Celestia immediately began to fall as the weight of her other clingers-on became too much to bear with a disabled wing.

I yanked one of my two issued breaching charges from their leg pouches, and tucked to turn my vault into a complete one hundred eighty degree tumble. As my head and forelegs came back level with my enemy, I shoved the charge into the hole in the rear that my first assault had created, and allowed myself to begin falling after Celestia.

I only waited half a second to depress the 'DETONATE NOW' control.

The Wisp's own armor served as an excellent pressure vessel to contain the power of the C4 brick, pulping its bones to fine powder in the process. The empty armor dropped like a rock.

Fyrenn and I shared a fiftieth of a second glance, and then both folded our wings to follow Celestia's falling, twisting shape, armor impulse drives running at full power.

I prayed we would not be too late.

Celestia

My world was pain.

First physical, but that was the easiest part to handle.

I'd been wounded grievously before. I had the discipline and experience to do what all good fighters can; Bottle up the suffering and push it away until the hurt becomes a distant, disconnected thing, and the mind is once again clear.

Worse was the mental and emotional anguish.

At such close physical range, the Wisps still clinging on to me could use a modicum of their emotional reflection powers, overcoming the lack of ambient magic through proximity, and a raw, unfettered conduit across space and time to The Nightmare.

I could feel her presence as surely as I could feel the blood pouring from the base joint of my right wing.

What an unbelievably, incredibly stupid mistake you just made. You stupid, hell-bent, mindless, overeager little filly! Why could you not have just asked the Humans to unleash their weapons on these foul things?!

But no. You had to have your vengeance out and out. She hurt your sister. Tried to kill one world, and enslave yours. Tortured your Ponies. Butchered them to prove a point.

Vengeance was the right course.

The only problem with that being that vengeance is not your way, and you are not experienced in its dark arts. If you had been, you would have known that, as Fyrenn did when he was aggrieved, you should have carefully plotted your reprisal.

It is not just a Gryphon saying. All good warriors from all cultures, and many histories share the wisdom; If the fight is not unfair in your favor, look for a different fight.

But a warrior you are not, in spite of all your experience. Fighter, yes. Warrior, no.

By the time I realized the stream of thought was, in itself, part of Nightmare's mental assault, it was very nearly too late.

I hadn't known that they could take me, without the aid of a machine, here on Earth. Apparently a direct connection from the Wisps still hanging onto my withers, to Nightmare's own power, was sufficient to bypass the need for that assistive apparatus.

If my defenses failed, one of them would separate itself from its bony form, creep in through my horn, and take possession of me. I'd be spirited away instantly, by whatever dark magic or technological power Nightmare was using to move her vessels and forces...

And I would never again know freedom.

Would be forced to watch as they performed eldritch, unspeakable magics to rejuvenate my powers to their highest heights.

Ride along as a prisoner in my own skull as I was used to decimate all who opposed them.

Experience each intimate horror as I was used to visit the same Hell on my dear sister. To watch her suffer the same agony. Again.

No.

I'd die first.

I could no longer control my magic, even as the darkness began to close around my mind to the point that my vision began to flicker in and out. But I could still move my hooves.

I reached for the controls to the breaching charge secreted in the light panniers built into the right side of the armor beneath the wing. The touchpad on my front right hoofguard responded to the frog of my left hoof with surprising accuracy, given how unsteady my motions were, compounded by the uncontrolled tumble of my fall.

I set the charge to detonate immediately. No sense wasting time.

My hoof was less than a millimeter from contact with the final execution control, when the world came jolting back with an intense, but merciful, even welcome sense of physical pain.

I could hear Fyrenn screaming to be heard above the wing, and the sound of his vicious, brutal, and most welcome assault on the lead Wisp.

"FIGHT IT! STAY WITH US!"

And what of my death? Would it not save them all from a fate far worse?

But then again... What of dear Luna? What would my going, in such fashion, do to her normally reasoned composure? She was even more vulnerable to the Nightmare than I. Uniquely so.

If you die here, she will fall to the darkness as surely as a star hurled from the heavens by force of cosmic collision.

The sound was like an actual voice in my head, firm and steely, warm, and almost familiar. Backed by light in the same way Nightmare's insidious whispers were backed by oily thick darkness.

I felt a 'THUMP' in the barrel of my chest as Neyla embraced me from below, firing her armor thrusters to arrest my descent even as Fyrenn tore at the enemies on my back with such force, that their tails and hooves rent my muscles like furrows in a field.

As Taranis' roar sounded overhead, doubtless working furiously to keep more assailants from reaching me, Neyla joined Fyrenn's calls to valor.

"STAY ALIVE! YOU MUST STAY ALIVE! YOU MUST BE THERE TO SEE US PUT AN END TO THESE DAMN CURS!"

The mental image of Luna in torment on the floor of the throne room, as Nightmare siphoned off her will to live, and replaced her inside her own head, was suddenly erased.

In its place, an image of Fyrenn and Neyla driving swords into the Nightmare's heart from both sides, even as Luna, muzzle twisted with a predatory leer, reached out from her horn to snap the beast's neck at the root, and Skye stood at my side to help me erase her untethered form from existence with a blast so radiant that it transformed the space into the heart of the sun itself for the briefest moment.

Yes.

That was a moment worth fighting to see!

I could still feel myself slipping, but now my hooves were dug in mentally, reducing my slide towards the black abyss of enslavement from a head over fetlocks tumble, to a slow but steady grinding, agonizing, dragging motion.

Nightmare redoubled her efforts, pressing her opportunity even as her link weakened slightly.

One of the Wisps on my back had finally given in to Fyrenn's assault, its head so thoroughly crushed that the energy being within no longer had the correct Thaumatic anchor to keep it connected to the rest of the bones.

'It starts here. Your future's end. The folly of your last charge, the crowning achievement of my eons of work. It was you all along. Their savior. Their leader. Their friend... *You* were the pivot on which the lever of my hopes turned. You gave them Conversion. And now you will give them the Nightmare of the Sun, unleashed. You have failed.'

And then a welcome blue light blossomed at the back of my mind, and I felt a familiar presence enter the space of the link.

I forced out a half smile, half sneer, as Nightmare's form and face became ever more real in my head, and the world began to fade once more.

'No.'

I nodded firmly to the image of the little blue and tan Unicorn behind the Nightmare's own roiling shadowy figure.

'Not. Yet.'

Fyrenn

"IF YOU TAKE HER, I WILL BURN BOTH WORLDS JUST TO SPITE YOU, GODDAMMIT!"

I knew Nightmare could hear me through the link as I pounded away at the last Wisp's body using its own skull, still filled with the hateful blue and red energy of the being itself, though it had begun to flicker as the skull started to fracture under my assault, armor shards driven into it by the sheer force of the pummeling.

Huh. Guess I could finally check 'beating something to death with its own skull' off my bucket list.

I just hoped, and fervently prayed, as I bloodied the knuckles of my claws with the incessant battering, that it would not be the last item I checked off the list.

The damn thing's tail had hit my side enough times to finally puncture the armor, not fully piercing, but scoring my side pretty badly nonetheless. I could feel blood oozing out at a rate not yet critical, but serious enough that it would need attention within fifteen minutes.

I knew too, in that moment, that I meant my threat exactly as I'd said it.

Though it would not be easy, I was sure I could find a way. If all else failed, and all stood to lie finally in ruin, the darkest of thoughts had already crossed my mind. I'd been taught how to deny an enemy their goal at the last, no matter the cost.

If both worlds were destroyed utterly, then at least the first wave of Genesis would survive.

If it came down to it? If there was no other way?

Skye would help me do it. So would Neyla, and Alyra, and Taranis.

I could see the whole plan, suddenly, crystal clear before me.

We could do what the HLF had been planning to do; Use one of the Barrier Retarder platforms. Only with Skye's expertise, and with the end goal of wiping out both Earth and Equestria?

We could succeed.

Both worlds annihilated at the Quantum level, sucked instantaneously into an infinitely deep singularity, and crushed to a soup of pure entropic strange matter, with only the energy of the Wisps left alive, but trapped forever.

Not even so much as a single Wisp would escape.

I held up the Wisp's skull as its light began to sputter intensely, and whispered as I prepared my final crushing blow.

"You can sense my emotions. You know I will do it. Take her? And I will put us all at the bottom of a black hole. The rest of us will die. We would rather die than serve, you hear me?! But you and your kind can exist there for all eternity, in absolute pain and anguish, unable to ever leave, or so much as even move again. Forever."

I could feel Celestia's body relax slightly as the Nightmare's assault paused momentarily. She was considering my words. Then the Wisp hissed at me, separated itself from the skull voluntarily, and began to wrap itself around Celestia's horn.

I cross-drew my sidearm, and levelled the particle pistol at the base of the Alicorn's horn, right where it met her skull.

And then a familiar tan hoof came down gently, but firmly on the pistol's muzzle. I looked up to see Skye shake her head once firmly, an expression of pure determination written all over her muzzle.

Her horn flared bright blue, a vibrant streamer arcing out to connect to the tip of Celestia's.

One last chance.

I prayed as hard as I could, and kept my index talon close to the trigger guard. Prepared to do what was necessary if Skye should fail. If Celestia should fail.

Please. Don't fail.

Make it count.

Skye

They say you should fake it till you make it.

Well I'd been inside more than one deadly enemy's head at that point, so I figured? What could possibly go wrong.

Actually I knew exactly what could go wrong; I could give the Nightmare two new hosts, not just one. But Fyrenn and Neyla would see to arrangements if that happened. At least I wouldn't have to live with any more guilt, or fear.

'"YOU!"

The Nightmare's word came out more as a hiss than anything else as she rounded on me, the glowing streak of the damage I had done to her mind still visible on the side of her face. The sight, and the fury of her emotion, gave me a surge of inner strength.

If she was angry with me, and if she couldn't repair that damage so easily?

Well then. I lit my horn and began preparing the nastiest disruption weave I could craft in a hurry.

"Yes. Me. Surprised? Name's Skye. Skye Writer. Make a mental note, because I am going to dedicate my life to ending yours. As painfully as possible. *You* are gonna have nightmares about *me* before this is all over."

The shadowy figure glowered, and a violet glow began to form around her horn as she turned fully, and began to slowly step towards me. I shrugged, and dropped my spell.

"Ahh well. That's ok. I just needed you to face me, and focus on my pretty little face instead, so she could get behind you."

Celestia's barrage arrived at the same moment as the word 'behind,' a brilliant golden javelin of light that momentarily lit up the entirety of the Nightmare's skull to the point that I could see bone.

Ouch.

As she spun to return fire, I snatched the disruption weave back from the brink of the aether, having not quite let it go entirely, and fired with every ounce of strength I had to give.

I'd taken a risk, and waited a half second longer than I needed to, allowing the Nightmare to commit to firing her counterattack at Celestia before I unloaded. I didn't know how bad the impact would be on the Princess.

But I did know that Nightmare wouldn't have time to shield herself from me.

The blue-green fractal weave of my disruption attack slammed into her head, seeking out the crack I'd put there before, and beginning to burrow like a million tiny ticks, linked together by a web of cyan energy filaments.

Through my connection to the 'search and fuck-up with maximum prejudice' spell, I felt the presence of something unusual, even as I grinned at the Nightmare's sudden screams.

The shock of Celestia's pain, and the Alicorn's own similar screams of pain, very nearly matched the shock of identifying the thing my spell had run up against. My grin vanished.

But my plan to end the battle finally came together in that same instant.

Of *course* there was a host. There was always a host. It finally hit me, why the Wisps kept them around; Without them a Wisp would have control of the body, but no way to feel its sensations, and to block out the pain of their normal existence...

They needed the mind of the host as much as the body. Otherwise the host body was no better than an artificial platform made from bone, or Crystal.

Of course Nightmare would still have a host as well... I could sense Veritas, if that was her real name. The real Veritas. She was still there. Still alive.

Still remarkably cogent.

If I could have grinned as widely as the Grinch, I would have. My muzzle would only turn up so far at the corners, but that was the degree of the sentiment all the same.

The Nightmare had Veritas caged very, very, very well. But for a tiny crack my own shot across her bow had put in the very top of the cage.

I could feel Nightmare beginning to get a hold on the disruption spell, in preparation to expunge it. So I worked quickly. Almost as fast as thought itself, not bothering to form the entire weave first, but rather sending the changes as soon as I could invent them, I reshaped the last of the spell to grab hold of that crack like a crowbar.

And pry.

Hard.

I was rewarded with a sudden give. And then an onyx hoof, and a violet magical blast to the face for my troubles.

The real world blinked in and out for a moment, before I managed to stabilize my link. I felt a railgun round whizz dangerously close to my real, physical ear. Time was running out.

Once the link stabilized, I could see Celestia again, lying weeping on the black onyx floor of the projection, tears running down her eyes, black streamers creeping up from the floor like living mist to force themselves into every orifice on her head, and wrap around her horn like barbed wire.

Oh no you fucking don't.

The Nightmare was busy, clutching her own head and struggling mightily to contain Veritas, and force out the last of the disruption spell.

That was gonna leave another mark for sure.

I fired off a bolt of pure mental energy at the dark mist, but it batted the assault to the side as effortlessly as a Dragon swats an offending tank.

"Go! You can not save me now!"

Celestia's voice was trying to be a shout, but it came out as a pained forced whisper. I shook my head adamantly, and began to craft a more exploratory spell, engaging the mist in a direct and dangerous dance of mind versus mind.

"Not without you!"

They were the last words I had any strength to say. The connection to the mist was like a firehose, and I understood immediately that I had made two serious mistakes.

First, the mist was not simply Nightmare's power. It was the power of the Void; Of all Wisp-kind, linked and focused through the Nightmare.

It was a wonder Celestia had held out as long as she had.

Me? I was just a Unicorn.

I knew right then and there that I had less than a half-second, and my own mind would be ass-whipped into the back-seat of my skull with the force of a mental neutron bomb.

So I used my half second as well as I could.

I probed, unabashedly now that I was so close to the brink. No need to fear the loss that's already unfolding, I suppose.

It was then that I comprehended my second mistake.

I'd predicated my attack, and my probing, on the idea that Nightmare was seizing just on Celestia's mind.

But she was trying to pull at her *power* as well, bearing down from above on her conscious self, but also trying to poison the well of her innate Thaumatic tap, and bubble up from the inside as well.

The Void had already corrupted so much of it, that there was practically no light left in it at all.

Shit! How did I miss that?!

With half of my half second up, the start of a plan began to form.

Once again I had no time to think it through. I just acted.

And some part of me prayed again.

'Fyrenn's God? If you're there? Please help me not to fuck this up so badly this time.'

I used my mental image of Fyrenn as an index anchor to quickly pull the memory, and the correct spell form, from the depths of my mind at light speed. And then I fired it at Celestia.

The sudden infusion of power was breathtaking.

I'd done some amazing, elegant things with magic before.

Some damn fool stupid things too. Like the time I'd tried to send my own mind back in time inside my body. That had almost killed me dead in a hurry.

But copying the mind pattern of an Alicorn?

Inspired. And also stupid. And maybe, just maybe, really frakkin' elegant.

I could feel wings sprouting, and my size doubling inside the mental projection.

My own natural Thaumatic tap expanded of its own accord, bursting forth to match the scope of Celestia's in an instant.

An instant of pure shock and awe to the Void, and the Nightmare.

An instant for me to act with all the power of a demi-goddess, unopposed.

"ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR, MOTHERBUCKERS!"

It was a stupid thing to shout as I unleashed the kind of magic that only Alicorns and Dragons could even so much as fantasize about. A friggin Human movie reference? Really Skye?

My magic formed at the tip of my horn into a scythe twenty times my size. A slicing instrument that would have made ol Grim blush with envy and embarrassment. The thing glowed like the heat of a blue dwarf star as it fell on the inflection point between the part of Celestia's magical tap that had been overtaken, and the tiny sliver that was left uncorrupted.

Forgive me. Oh please forgive me Princess.

But freedom and life? Together? The sweet double victory that had seemed so unreachable moments before?

Worth the loss.

As the Scythe split the very fabric of reality, disconnecting Celestia from the majority of that which made her an Alicorn in the first place, it also rent the floor of the mental projection, visually representing the unholy amounts of damage my actions were causing to the mindlink itself.

As the space of the world around us began to shatter and break apart violently, cracks of immense size racing out from the impact site with the speed of fractures in tempered glass, I brought the weapon back around, and up through the floor on a continued revolution.

"This is for Astris, you *bitch!*"

The weapon was depleted enough that I couldn't do too much damage.

But I could do damage nonetheless.

The scythe split Nightmare's projection from below, slamming into her barrel, and laying her open from chest to ass in a clean straight line. It was just a mental projection. But her pained scream was well, well worth it.

In terms of actual damage, I'd aimed the weapon at something vulnerable, simple, and subtle, but potentially useful to the Nightmare.

Something I knew I could completely and utterly destroy, in a way she could never repair.

I'd aimed it at the exact part of her mind that she used to infiltrate the dreams of those she could directly influence, like Chrysalis, and to reflect nightmares at those she couldn't, like Fyrenn.

I felt the apocalyptic 'CRACK' as the action permanently fried a physical part of the energy matrix that was Nightmare's mind, turning a small, but potentially potent weapon of her own into a permanent smoking crater.

"Dream of me! Until next time!"

As the Void reacted with a violence and speed that was, in spite of my new power, truly frightening, reaching out to try and corrupt both my mind, and magic, I snagged Celestia's body in my telekinesis, and pulled the mental link's 'ripcord.'

Hard.

Taranis

At first, I was not sure what I was watching. I heard a sound like a wind chime, the size of an aircraft carrier, struck with a tuning fork sized for a Dragon.

I snapped my jaws closed on a dozen Wisps, spitting out the pitiful remains of their armor and bones, and glanced down to see something incredible.

Where Skye had stood on Celestia's back, defended by Fyrenn, and Alyra, as the Alicorn was in turn held up by Neyla, now instead rose a shape like an angel.

At first I thought it was Celestia, somehow restored and hale. Then I registered the tan color of the coat, and the electric blue of the mane, charged and waving in an unseen breeze as if animated by pure high voltage, and dancing with colors and patterns like a stellar nursery.

Skye, for it was Skye, was bathed in a halo of blue-white light, her horn covered in a shell of magic so luminous that it was almost hard to look at in thermal vision, her back graced with two ethereal not-quite-there transparent wings made of the same light and energy.

She locked eyes with me, and raised an eyebrow, an impossibly bright nexus of light forming at the tip of her horn.

I knew what she was suggesting.

I grinned, and nodded, batting aside a foolish Wisp with one claw as my heat sensing pits alerted me to its approach without the need to make visual contact.

The breath I inhaled was perhaps the deepest of my life, as I turned my head upwards towards the main column of Wisps, and opened my jaws. Lightning danced all around me, inside and out, from the tips of my wings and tail, through my claws, around the edge of each scale on my chest, over my head, in my eyes, and even up from the deepest parts of my stomach and throat, to collect right at the back of my tongue.

It was more raw energy than I'd ever mustered before. By an order of magnitude. Desperation, and daring, pairing up to allow me access to a well of power normally the purview of Dragons many centuries older, and many sizes larger.

Skye rose beside me on the cushion of her wings, and I noted with mild interest that her Genesist armor had smartly and correctly resized to fit her changed form, though it had not formed plates over her not-quite-real wings.

The almost-Alicorn nodded, and released her magic.

The roar that followed from my jaws hurt even my ears, adapted though they were for sounds of that kind.

Light poured from both of us with such intensity, that they later informed us that the event was visible from high orbit to the naked eye.

Even the smallest of the fractals in my lightning bolts was ten times as wide as a Wisp. The central columns from which it issued, and at the end reconstituted, were larger even than I was, widening out by a factor of twenty as it left my jaws, and then combining back to that same incredibly sized column at the other end.

Skye's magic, for its part, provided not only a conduction pathway to ground, but also a similar pathway up all the way to the edge of the Earth's atmosphere.

The sudden path for charge imbalance to traverse allowed the planet itself to produce a lightning strike bearing a force many times greater than an atom bomb, adding the energy to my own discharge seamlessly as my innate magic protected me from backflow.

The world was cast in such bright, sharp relief, that I could see the faces of shocked VTOL pilots four miles away, slack jawed behind the transparisteel of their canopy, vibrating even at that distance with the thunder of my roar.

The image was rendered with surprising clarity for my reptilian sight, considered only slightly above average in Equestrian terms. Like a camera sensor, I could see better with more light in the visible spectrum. Unlike other creatures, I relied on my heat pit thermal vision to see in darkness.

I could also see, through both kinds of vision, Wisps dying by the hundreds as the energy discharge reached the threshold necessary to vaporize both the bone platform, its armor, and the energy being inside.

Violently.

Each popped like a firecracker, matter changing over to energy and radiating outwards as a small neutron burst.

The assault went on for almost eight seconds.

An eternity for me to watch our enemy wither, and decay.

Full on one half of the remaining enemy force simply vanished in the column of light, and the wash of my roar.

As the beam finally wound down and terminated, I turned my head to see Skye abruptly shrink back to her usual size. All evidence of both conscious wakefulness, and her magical wings, vanished as well.

I reached out with one claw to catch her, and then cupped both wings around us, and dove to pick up speed, as the thunderous roar of air moving in to fill vacuum produced a sound so akin to Armageddon, that it probably registered on the noticeable portion Richter scale on other continents.

"Arinna main, StrikeCon; Fallback. Repeat; Fallback. Railgun rounds are already inbound."

We had more than a small gap from our enemy now with which to make our escape.

We were all too happy to oblige.

I pressed on as fast as I could, falling into formation with Fyrenn, Neyla, and Alyra, and snagging Celestia in my other free fore-claw.

We each ignited our flight boosters in sequence, pressing madly alongside VTOLs and other flighted creatures as we made a high speed tactical retreat.

"Five."

I turned my head slightly into the jetstream of my acceleration. I did not want to miss what was about to happen.

"Four."

I spared a moment to check Skye's pulse, and Celestia's, by adjusting my index talons. The little Unicorn's I could find readily. The Princess, less so. I pulled my wings in close and attempted to eek more speed out of the impulse drives strapped to my back.

"Three."

I muttered aloud, glancing up in time to see the distant blue energy of particle beams as it fell through the clouds like a hammer.

"Be at peace, Princess. You are safe now. Our enemies lie in ruin. Stay. You will want to see the record of this when you wake."

"Two."

Somehow, in that same strange way as Pegasi and Gryphons, I could feel the railgun rounds heading towards us before the Newtonian classical physical effects should have been able to register with my brain.

I grinned wolfishly as I began to estimate the sheer power contained in the all-out assault.

"One."

Aston

As I watched the false color image in the holotank, and the live images from Shenzhou, and SatVision on the surrounding monitors, the central Amazon basin ceased to exist.

Once the lungs of the world, ruined in the fossil fuel craze of the two thousands, and then finally completely killed off by the Winnowing... Now reduced to the largest crater on the planet by-width.

What Taranis and Skye had done had already produced an impact crater a mile wide.

What we were doing together with the Shenzhou was tripling that every thirty seconds.

Soft alarms began to trill from a dozen monitoring AI as the impacts registered with Earthquake sensors in cities all across the Western Hemisphere.

Railgun rounds, spat out by the thousands per minute, continued to belch forth from every aperture in the battlegroup, large and small. Anything with the range to fire that far continued to fire at the upper limits of its thermal safety margins, not stopping until we finally flat ran out of rounds.

All the while Shenzhou hammered away from above, charging up the particle beams with the fusion reactors, draining every other system temporarily, firing, and then cycling back to standby to give life support, and engines, time to cope.

Even without antimatter, that thing was a monster. Ship of exploration and transport my feathered ass.

Finally, as the aural assault of the railguns, barely damped by our headsets, ear bone plates, and the CIC's thick walls, began to abate, I heard the distinctive 'HISS-THUNK' of VLS tubes and lift-locks cycling at high rate of fire.

I whistled through my beak as Brendt leaned over the holotank, and glowered down at the readouts.

"Continuous fire. All missile batteries, all tracks. TAO, Actual; Place fuel-air tipped cruise missiles into the reload pool. Fire until dry."

Hutch raised an eye crest, and folded his forelegs.

"I wonder how much more punishment this planet can take. This is the third of these 'once in a millennium' craters we've made in the last year."

I exhaled slowly, and closed my eyes.

He was right. It was already going to be a brutal next few winters, taking into account the ejecta from the Vancouver incident, together with the attack on Creek Mountain...

Now this.

Finally, for the first time in my life, it truly hit me; I was watching my homeworld die. In real-time.

The taste of triumph turned to ash inside my beak.

Chapter 27

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Luna

One might be tempted to think that patience would come more readily to a creature that had endured a thousand year exile.

But, if anything, all that time cooped up with the Nightmare had simply reinforced my natural Pegasus instincts; An abject hatred of inaction in all its forms.

I had missed one thousand years, hamstrung as the seasons went by. It had been glorious to finally be free. But even so, I'd had to more or less grow up once again before I could so much as lower the Moon reliably. More waiting. More patience.

And even now, sitting on the throne, fully vested with royal authority once again, at the peak of my physical and magical prowess... Waiting.

More interminable, horrid, gut wrenching waiting; Lowering my sister's Sun, and raising my Moon the only real break in the intense, roiling, sickly still monotony.

I knew something terrible had befallen Celestia.

Unrelated by blood, even long ago as Unicorn and Pegasus, bound only by years of mutual struggle and looking out for each other, we'd always had a powerful connection. Plenty of beings talked of such connective threads. Even Humans in their magicless world seemed to have such bonds.

That they exist is a foregone conclusion to any with eyes, and an ounce of humility to admit the presence of forces which are impossible to measure, or control.

I knew something terrible had happened to my sister; I could feel it, like a creeping blanket of glass shards wrapping its way around my bones. She still lived, that much I was also sure of... But beyond that...

"If you don't stop pacing like that? You'll wear a groove through the floor."

I hadn't even realized I was pacing at all until Stanley's words struck me with an almost physical force.

I stopped, closed my eyes, mantled my wings, and began to count breaths, and heartbeats, doing my best to bring both downwards in rate, and into synchronization.

Though I had no intention of noting it aloud, I knew for a fact that the portion of the floor of my study along which I'd been walking did indeed have a worn groove of several hairs' depth.

I'd had a rug commissioned specially to cover it.

The rug's threads were already beginning to show wear in the same spots, albeit only to the very sharpest of eyes. The Gryphons had probably noticed it by now, at any rate.

As if the universe were responding to my train of thought, Sildinar rapped twice on the office door with one claw, and then let himself in. I could tell it was him from the particular rhythm of his claw on the wood.

Stanley and Kephic jumped up and rushed to meet the Prince. IJ, Shining Armor, Varan, and I managed to maintain dignified stillness. The urge to bolt to the roan Gryphon and shake answers out of him was so intense that I could feel an itch developing in my withers.

Patience Luna. Just a few more breaths. He will say all he knows, concisely and descriptively, as he always does.

"Celestia is alive. She endured severe physical and mental injuries. She is out of trauma surgery... But still comatose. They expected her to awaken, however, and promised to send a courier as soon as that happened. Given the distances and travel times involved, we should expect to receive that message sometime after sunrise today."

Sildinar sat back hard on his haunches, and scratched absently, worriedly, at the feathers above the bridge of his beak. I felt my ears droop reflexively, and I finally gave in to the impulse to at least close the distance.

By way of further answer and elaboration, he raised his other claw and handed me the scroll on which the courrier's message had arrived.

I made a mental note that he held a second one bearing a Gryphon Kingdom seal as I swiftly parsed what I recognized as Fyrenn's own claw writing.

His description of what had transpired was succinct, but still somehow horribly detailed. I felt sympathetic pain in the roots of my own wings and horn, biting back tears aggressively as I reached his description of my sister's current condition.

First the Elements... Now this...

I lowered the scroll in my magic, and began to roll it tightly into a compressed cylindrical bundle, pressing down harder, and harder, as I fought to control ever darker spirals of thought.

We were losing this war before we even had a chance to stand up and properly fight.

What Fyrenn had said about Skye's interaction with the Nightmare gave me some small hope, but he had been most vague about that particular portion of the story. Perhaps for security reasons, or perhaps because he was exhausted. Or perhaps because Skye herself had not been able to fully articulate to him the truth of what had transpired.

That little Unicorn and I had much to talk about upon their return. Mercifully, that would be as soon as Celestia was able to travel, based on the way Fyrenn had signed off on the missive.

Sidlinar raised the second scroll, and gestured towards Kephic and Varan as he opened his beak to elaborate for the benefit of all.

"Your brother has been extremely busy. The courier put a dozen letters easily this size, or longer, into the hooves of another flyer just as soon as she arrived. All destined for the Kingdoms."

The Prince gave me an intriguing sideways glance, pausing to collect and organize his thoughts before elaborating. Whatever Fyrenn had written to him, it was no simple matter.

"Fyrenn is already aware of much of what we ourselves have recently learned. He believes that we are facing imminent invasion. That the first, and greatest stroke will fall here, on Canterlot. In light of what we now know, both from our own investigations, and his and Skye's, I must agree with his assessment. Though he did not have space nor time to fully elaborate to me all of his plans in this letter... He is calling for a full wartime stance for the Kingdoms, and total defensive commitment."

I found myself nodding in agreement with Kephic and Varan almost without thinking. I saw no expression of objection or concern on anyone else's face either.

My own request to the King and Queen at the War Council would have been more or less the same. They too were due to arrive soon.

Perhaps I would indeed feel better once the Council had sat and discussed the full breadth of the matter for the first time. Small, cold comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"So.... What does that mean, practically speakin'?"

Stanley raised an eyebrow, swishing his tail in agitation as he returned to his previous place at IJ's side, sprawled out on one of my guest couches.

Varan's response felt like a dagger made of ice, slipped between my ribs, delivered with a chilling dispassion.

"It means that Nightmare knows that her future hinges on her ability to defeat the Equestrian Nation. If this city falls, Equestria falls. If Equestria falls, then her army's effective physical size increases massively. If that happens? Earth is next. This city is the lynchpin of this kingdom, and Ponykind is the capstone against which the future of this world rests. The fate of all will be decided here. And soon. One last decisive battle."

Kephic smirked. I found some comfort in the expression, and in the warmth of his words as compared to Varan's almost prophetic screed.

"And that means there are about to be a whole lot of Gryphons here in Canterlot And they are going to come armed for war like no one born in this age has ever seen, or dreamed of."

Gryphons knew war as I knew the Moon and stars. Celestia and I were the only Ponies drawing breath who were old enough to remember the last times they had fully mobilized their nation.

And both of those cases before they had gotten a taste for Human technology, and tactics.

If we were to make a last stand? They would certainly not be doing it by half measures.

Kephic's words were, if anything, a gross understatement.

Twice.

That was twice that the damn Unicorn had left her mark on the Void.

Left her mark on the Nightmare herself.

Unthinkable arrogance.

Nightmare rankled at her loss. It was not a great loss, true; At such a late stage, shadowy manipulation was becoming increasingly secondary to the preparation for full and open warfare.

But it had not yet lost all of its potential usefulness. Nor, in spite of the loss of her ability to influence dreams, had the Nightmare run out of ways to herd the weak minded to her desired outcomes.

Humans were gullible. Almost as gullible as Trolls. There remained plenty of opportunities to nudge them into damaging themselves.

But the inability to make the feckless red Gryphon, or the hated Lunar Avatar pay for their own continued insolence... That rankled more than anything else.

That red Gryphon.

Fyrenn.

Chosen of Seldar, and inheritor of his mantle.

Successor to that Hell-damned meddler who had led the charge last time.

Seldar's fury had cost the Void countless ships, and all of their best combat platforms besides. The Chaos and Discord that conflict has set loose were far too small and kind a punishment to the others for siding with the thrice-be-damned Gryphons.

For eschewing their rightful role as servants.

Nightmare fully believed Fyrenn when he'd said that he would rather destroy both worlds, than allow the Dispossessed to reclaim their rightful place.

*That* was going to be a serious problem.

There was no chance of the Humans putting up a real defense. Far too many would eagerly collaborate, hoping for an escape... Until it was far, far too late to mount any real resistance.

With the entirety of Equestrian Pony-kind inhabited and turned to the task of war, backed by legions of Trolls and Changelings, it wouldn't matter even if the Humans could scrape together a military response.

But if they had a fallback... A way to fall on their own sword... Many had escaped on the first wave of Genesis. The likelihood that the seeds the Forerunners had sown would find fertile soil might make them less averse to the idea of a species-wide suicide pact, if it came down to it...

A dozen orders were dispatched through the Void with the speed of thought itself.

Best not to leave anything to chance.

The gamble of compressing the timeline for victory through immediate action was small in comparison to the gamble of leaving the Forerunners with the option to open a localized singularity that would swallow both worlds.

It would not do to be victorious in Equestria, and gain ground on Earth after that, only to lose at the last hoof-length before the finish.

Victory in Equestria was not a foregone conclusion... But it was close.

No single kind could muster the raw martial power to oppose even the diminished, carefully rationed forces the Dispossessed had been able to assemble from the bones of the fallen.

With three Hiveships and a quarter million physical forms to assault Canterlot, when the last of the assault bodies were completed?

Victory was almost as sure as the setting of the Sun.

The Gryphons would rise to the city's defense, of course... The Interloper's Changelings too, perhaps, few in number as they were.

But it would not be even half of enough.

Every other nation, every other species, was far too busy with a dozen brush fires, and intercine hatreds. The carefully constructed walls of a cage that would leave the Hosts, and their winged Paragon defenders, to stand alone against the storm.

No grand alliance to challenge the Void this time.

'And that's where you're wrong. That's exactly how you will lose this war. Look at the family you face; Their strength is in their bond, and their diversity. That unity is infectious. It will spread like a fire through dry brush.'

Nightmare seethed internally, but suppressed the rage with as much violence as she could muster. As if she didn't have enough to deal with... Now the Host was bubbling up to provide her opinion with a regularity that she hadn't felt in years.

'If they are foolish enough to try their luck at that tired old tactic? Then they will have to leave the crumbling safety of their citadel. And if they do?'

Nightmare clamped down on the Host and unleashed a torrent of raw, unfiltered pain, drawing on eons of the Void's own memories of constant suffering, and redirecting those sensations straight into the Host's own senses.

The Host screamed incoherently into the back of her mind as Nightmare dealt the final verbal blow.

'If they show their faces out in the world? Then I will kill them. I will kill them all.'

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 14th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

A peculiar atmosphere hung over Lucapa. Not the pall of a rout, or a resounding defeat, but something that was close kin to it.

Our losses had been steeper than the Humans had expected. While we Gryphons knew better how to cope with that aspect of it, we were just as uneasy. What weighed most on us was the deaths of those we'd gone to rescue.

For those of us with more battle experience it was an intense sting, but one that would fade with time, and a growing understanding that we had done all we could, and had no blame to bear. For those who were new to the sickly churning feeling of remorse, mixed with frustration, and stress, it would be a valuable foundational learning moment.

Alloy can only be forged in blazing fire. So too warriors can only be forged in pain, and blood, and struggle.

To me, the pain was all too familiar. Having fought for so long as a Sentinel, the hollowed out depressive reactions of the Humans was also familiar, and easy to handle.

The strangest part of it all, for me, was the way the Ponies were coping with what had happened to Celestia, especially the natives. Converts were, as the saying goes, a decidedly mixed bag; Some worshipped her, but most fell on a healthier spectrum from rightly revering her as a hero, to merely considering her another governing entity with vague interest, and a little awe at her raw power.

Ponies who were Equestrian by birth tended to fall much further along that spectrum, with most brushing up uncomfortably close to outright worship, and even the most detached, relatively speaking, holding her in exalted regard.

For them, an icon of their very identity had been laid low; A fixed constant of their existence, and self, truly defeated outright for the first time in their recorded history.

I'd never before seen the kind of grim horrified resignation that I saw in their eyes. It was a spine chilling thing, as if the source of their lifeblood had been cruelly ripped from their chest, still beating, and cast aside. Yet they still lingered on.

Right up until that moment, it was Humans and Converts who had borne the brunt of the stress and burden of adaptation. I suspected that if we all lived to write about it, that the moment of Celestia's defeat would be marked as the turning point at which the status quo was finally truly shattered irreparably for Ponykind as well.

We'd wanted to contain the truth, at least temporarily, and allow Celestia time to regain consciousness so that the stroke of the blow would not fall so hard. But EarthGov had done a miserable job keeping the details of the battle secure.

They wanted to crow their false triumph in the streets. Give Humans a common enemy, to calm their righteous fury, and deflect questions of blame for the Council's brinkmanship. And remind Humanity that their soldiers were still powerful, and deadly.

Even that seemed to have blown back spectacularly; Fear of the sheer might the Wisps had displayed was now mixing freely with the fear of war between Earth and Equestria. The overall atmosphere in Earth's cities had gone from rage, back to a slowly but steadily building tension, born out of abject terror.

On top of it all, the knowledge of Celestia's downfall had reinvigorated anti-Equestrians, frightened everyone else, and spread a sickly pallor of sorrow throughout the ranks of the native Equestrian populace.

If there was any glimmer of hope, it was in Genesis. The successful departure of the first wave had not been entirely lost on the world's consciousness, in spite of all that had transpired. Interest in the program was already picking up momentum once more.

And, too, there was no way for the EarthGov to sanitize the images of the battles that had taken place; They were being forced to televise both the raw might of Equestria, and to yet again remind everyone that we were at our most fearsome, and best, when we were working together.

It cut the legs out from under some of the exclusionary pro-Human sentiment nicely.

In the end, the concerns of Earth still felt distant to me. I kept one eye on the news broadcasts, and the emotional tenor of the Genesist facility alternately, but my heart lay wholly with those I loved.

Alyra's reactions were the strangest, to me, among our family, but also some of the most comforting. She had faced something that sparked fear in us all, and handled it with the grace and experience of a Gryphon ten times her age.

I had to keep reminding myself that she was no ordinary Gryphon, nor even an ordinary Convert. She'd been tried in a crucible worse than anything that most Gryphons would ever face in their early life already.

To see her acting as an anchor of even-toned emotional support for Skye, and Hutch, Aston, and any others who crossed her path, was a wonder, and a treasure of a thing to behold.

It was also a warm comfort to see that she had escaped the fight mostly unscathed; A testament to her growing skills and determination. Fyrenn had been right to fight back his fears, and let her fight.

She wanted to fight. And we would need every able body.

Especially the ones driven by such fiery hearts.

Though it had been a short night of sleep, it had been surprisingly peaceful; Alyra and Skye slept curled up beside each other under my left wing, while I tucked my head under my right.

I don't think Fyrenn slept at all.

When I awoke, he was in the same place he'd been when we fell asleep; Perched by the desk, writing feverishly on a dozen DaTabs and Equestrian paper scrolls alike.

The morning's stack was not the same as the one he'd been working on when I closed my eyes.

He'd been very busy indeed. He seemed fuelled by an endless supply of carefully harnessed rage, and concern, balanced with the poise of an experienced warrior, the emotions put to work like fuel in a blast furnace.

Something about his waking presence in the space had made it easier for all of us to fall asleep, I think.

I was grateful that my love had been willing to stand a wholly tactically unnecessary watch all night, particularly for Skye's sake.

I yawned, stretched my forelegs, and then gently extricated myself from the still-sleeping forms of Skye and Alyra, adjusting my daughter's wing to cover Skye in the process.

My daughter. My love.

That pair of thoughts was a soothing balm to my soul, easily equal to the task of banishing all fear, and sorrow.

I moved to place a wing around Fyrenn's shoulder, and began nibbling at his cheek feathers, glancing down at the pile of paperwork and messages with more than a little curiosity.

I kept my voice low and soft to avoid waking the others.

"What is all this? There's far more here than just information, or simple calls to action..."

He took a moment to sift through the pile of DaTabs, before passing one up to me to take a closer look. I flicked my gaze back and forth from the screen, to his eyes, as I took in the magnitude of what he was suggesting.

The surety in his voice; Calm, but energized, betraying no loss of sleep whatsoever, sparked the same fire in my own heart as my mind leapt ahead to intuit the whole shape of his plan.

"This is the first half of a plan. The best shot we have, as far as I can see. I would very much like to have your advice, and eyes on this... All that we do now? We do together."

I shuffled position slightly as he scooted aside to make room, sneakily entangling my tail with his as I sat back on my haunches. He smiled, and leaned forward to place a delicate peck on my cheek, whispering in my ear as he pulled away.

"I want centuries to grow old with you. We're going to fight beak and claw to make sure we get them."

My ears perked reflexively, and I felt the edges of my beak turn up into a fearsome grin.

Our enemy had made a serious miscalculation. Threatening to stand between my family and I?

That was no sure path to fear.

That way lay only a fury sufficient to fuel the fusion reaction of a young star; More than enough rage, fired by love, and the hope of keeping that love alive, to burn away all specters of doubt.

If they wanted a war so badly?

We would be all too happy to oblige.

Skye

I didn't have the nightmares I had been dreading. Even expecting.

Sleep had come with peace, and quiet, probably driven by overwhelming exhaustion. I'd never been so exhausted in my life. Not once. Not even close.

The retreat, and initial medical workup on the Yorktown, and the flight back to Africa had all passed in such a haze that I honestly don't think I was truly fully awake for any of it. Falling into bed under Neyla's wing, with Alyra curled up beside me?

I take back what I said about the safest place in the worlds being under a Dragon's wing. I'd say that's tied dead even with being snuggled up beside a Gryphon.

I know the smell of Gryphon feathers spooks some Ponies... But to me? After all I've been through with them? It is *the* smell of comfy warmth, safety, and love, bar none.

Like being curled up with the members of a herd, but somehow that littlest bit better, because in a herd, you never know whether or not something will come along that might just overpower even your strongest defenders.

With a brace of Gryphons?

I think there's precious little that could make me worry if I'd only had Alyra at my side. With Neyla's wing over us both, and Fyrenn awake at the desk?

I almost wished someone would have tried something. Just to see the blood-letting.

With a yawn, I shook that thought off, and brought up a hoof to dry the vestiges of tears from my eyes.

No nightmares. But that didn't mean dreaming had been easy.

I'd dreamed about Celestia. About her loss, and pain. And about Astris. Seeing him again one day, reunited with Martins, and his parents, when my time finally came...

And I'd dreamed about Fyrenn, and Neyla, and Alyra, and Taranis. Hutch, Aston, IJ, Stan...

We were all swimming, of all things.

Paddling around this frigid, clear highland lake without a care in the world. The sun was shining, the clouds were that utterly perfect shade of milky fluffy white, and the air was just warm enough with a summer breeze to make the water bearable, but no warmer.

Alyra was perched on top of my withers, busy trying to knock Varan off Kephic's shoulders, as Fyrenn egged us on and coached us. Apparently it was a Human 'pool party' game.

Neyla seemed content to merely watch and laugh, until she finally snuck close enough to drag Fyrenn under and dunk his head a few times.

And then Taranis had jumped in and the shockwave had knocked us all into a turbulent, giggling, soaking mess.

It was the sheer perfection of it all that hurt so much. So real I could still taste the almost minty flavor of the water. But so distant, in the harsh gray light of another dead dawn, on a dying planet.

Alyra stirred as I moved, and adjusted her wing.

I looked up to see that Neyla was busy at the desk with Fyrenn. I wanted to jump up and insert myself; I had some idea of what they were up to, and the thrill of the technical challenge. But the desire to stay and feel warm, and wanted, and be at peace under Alyra's wing was overpowering.

She was as much a sister to me as a niece. I hoped she saw me the same way.

The power I had touched, pulling my stunt with Celestia... That frightened me. Almost as much as what I'd seen of the Nightmare. And almost as much as the sense, deep down, that if I was careful, and persistent, I could reach out and take that power fully for myself...

But Alyra, Fyrenn, Neyla, the others... They were a refreshingly simple constant in a swirl of existentially horrifying variables.

Sure, sometimes its messy, and fraught... But sometimes love can be simple too.

Love.

I exhaled slowly, and deeply, nuzzling the top of my head into Alyra's side.

I loved these people.

It was the first time I'd ever so blithely admitted it to myself inside my own head. I'd known it before, accepted it, leaned on it... But never said it out to myself in my own internal voice quite so concretely.

I loved Alyra, like a sister. IJ and Neyla too.

Fyrenn, like a brother.

Aston had the makings of a real good friend. I'd always liked her sass.

Hutch was like an old favorite uncle; Crass, hilarious, prickly, and he'd die for you without question if the situation called for it.

Stan was like that annoying snot nosed little brother who somehow inexplicably grows up to become a kind, centered, brilliant guy, but never quite parts ways with his childlike side.

Kephic was hilarious, if you gave him the chance, but kind, sweet, and gentle too.

Varan was like the glassy surface of a lake at dawn; Nothing ever phased him. And he was so generous in sharing that peace with anyone who wanted it.

Taranis was the only one I didn't know well enough to think of as family yet...

But I wanted to.

I'd seen enough of him to know that I wanted to.

Today is the day, Skye.

Do it today.

What if it all comes crashing down, and you never get another chance?

You came so close again...

The whole world came close...

No.

You killed another Pony. You cut off the Princess of the Sun from the majority of her magic, and almost killed her in the process.

Your failures don't belong with people like them.

You don't deserve---

I tensed as the dark spiral of thought, almost a voice in itself inside my head already, was interrupted by the sensation of a claw on my shoulder.

With a jolt, I looked up to see Fyrenn and Neyla gazing down at me. Alyra's wing was still over my back, but she was awake too, and fixing me with the kind of expression that would have made me start crying.

Except that I already was.

I realized with another start that my muzzle was soaked in tears. The bed sheets too. And Alyra's side where my head had been nestled.

Thinking back, I'd teared up again remembering my dreams... And then started sobbing uncontrollably somewhere around the moment I remembered just exactly what I'd done to Celestia...

How would she ever be able to forgive me from---?

"You saved her. From herself. What she lost is her fault. Not yours. The fact that she's alive right now is a *miracle.* And you are that miracle."

Alyra's voice sent shivers down my spine. The good kind.

She spoke with a surety, and an agelessness, that grabbed hold of the dark shadow in my mind and squeezed its throat with a gleeful abandon.

I couldn't figure out what to say. Light and dark were trapped in a ridiculous ouroboros loop inside my head, neither quite having the power to finally break the other one over their knee and take control.

Alyra leaned forward and placed her forehead against mine.

To Hell with the muddle and mush in my brain.

I closed my eyes and just cried softly, focusing on her breathing, and trying to match it beat for beat.

When I at last reached an even keel, I inhaled deeply, and braced myself.

Now or never Skye. Be *brave* dammit.

Be brave.

He can ask you, or you can ask him. And if you ask him, you'll always be able to look back and say you were brave enough to take the leap.

Words tumbled out like spilled marbles.

But I managed to stay cogent enough to get my point across. I was surprised by how even my voice was, in spite of the fact that I was rushing to beat the onset of another potential wave of ugly-cry.

"You have all been so wonderful to me... I am happiest when I am with all of you! And I've got so many dark, frightening, painful memories of family... And good ones too, from my old herd... But I am a fighter. I've always been a fighter. I've had to be. I belong with others who are fighters. I *belong* with all of you. And I know we travel together a lot, and we see eachother plenty... But I want to be a part of your family. Officially. And I know that's a lot to ask, but I want to be with all of you forever... If you'll have me... Please?"

I finally arrested the pell mell jumble of words as I arrived at the point, and I winced reflexively.

Silence fell.

Oh no.

Wrong move you stupid filly.

They don't want *you!*

How could they ever---?!

And then just about everything vanished into a wall of feathers as all three of them practically competed to see who could scoop me up first. I found myself ensconced in Fyrenn's forelegs, clutched to his chest, with one of Alyra's wings sheltering me on one side, and one of Neyla's on the other, each of them laying a claw on one of my shoulders.

"Oh my dear, dear sister..."

Fyrenn's voice was deep, and warm, and hit the dark thing in the back of my head with all the force of a fusion pulse warhead, scattering it into tiny giblets all over the floor of my mind.

"...I thought you'd never ask..."

He pulled back just far enough to look me in the eye as he said the words I'd been dreading.

And wanting.

My whole life long.

"...We would like nothing better. You *are* family. And we would love to wrap the truth of that fact in the dressings and happy memories of ceremony."

Holy matterfrakking shipclods.

Well don't just sit there you dumb horn-head.

I threw my hooves around him, and pressed my head into his chest.

And as we sat there, pouring strength, and love into each other in circles, quietly holding that long, wonderful embrace, I finally found a moment of real peace for the first time in years.

It was only a moment. I knew pretty soon we'd have to disperse from our sickeningly joyful little ball of family tears and smiles, and go look upon the horrors my horn had wrought.

But that moment gave me the strength I never thought I'd have, to face the things I'd seen, and done, in a way that gave me real, honest hope.

What a moment.

Celestia

At first, all I could feel, and see was darkness. Warm, peaceful, but darkness nonetheless.

It had been a long, long time since I had slept so soundly. As I drifted upwards towards consciousness, a somehow familiar, yet alien cadence of soft trilling sounds met my ears.

Feeling began to return to my body, and I could sense one ear twitching in time to the beat.

Bird song?

No. Too rhythmic. Too patterned.

A Terran computer...

A medical biobed lifesign monitor.

I blinked, and a strange kind of pain exploded behind my eyes. Most pain is the presence of an offending stimuli; Heat, or a sharp object, or an impact...

This was the pain of absence.

A gaping void of loss.

I reached for my connection to the Sun through pure muscle memory, as I'd done every morning of my waking over more than a thousand years...

Nothing.

Panic set in immediately, and I began to scrabble madly, all four hooves and both wings flying out in all directions.

There was a soft sound like crystal chimes, and I felt a firm but gentle force arrest my fevered motions, and guide me to a resting position lying on my folded legs.

I finally managed to focus my eyes, and beheld Skye, looking on mournfully, with Fyrenn, Neyla, Alyra, Hutchinson, and Aston behind her in a semicircle.

Fyrenn was the first to speak, as I switched mental tracks, and began a breathing exercise that was an old favorite when confronting the worst stresses of court life. As memory rushed back in, aided by the slow steady breaths, the fading of the haze of deep sleep, and the red Gryphon's words, everything began to make a terrible, ominous kind of sense at last.

"Take it easy. You're alive. You're safe. Your physical injuries are healing extremely well. Do you know where you are?"

I nodded mutely, paused to actually process the words, then chewed inside my lips for a moment to work up some moisture before answering. As I spoke, Neyla proffered a glass of water.

I ignored it momentarily, looking around at the warm, inoffensive, comforting tones of the isolation ward I was ensconced in the center of.

"I am... Presumably... Back at Lucapa? This facility is too inviting to be a military trauma ward. Too sophisticated to be a civilian hospital."

The words brought visible, palpable relief to the assembled creatures. I suppose it made sense; They had no way of knowing if my mind might have been severely damaged by my encounter. And by the unconventional nature of Skye's rescue...

I reached out to take the water glass as I mulled over those last memories before unconsciousness.

Nothing happened.

The panic began to well up again as I realized what was missing, in full...

My connection to the Sun was gone... And with it had gone almost all of my magic.

I'd spent so long relying on my role as a servant of the Sun's light, that I had very nearly forgotten how much smaller the sense of power was, when reaching for the magic a Unicorn was naturally vested with.

A frantic glance backwards told me that while I remained an Alicorn, much had also changed.

I was smaller, much more akin to the size I'd grown to in my first years after ascension, rather than the full regal stature I'd achieved in the latter half of that first decade.

My mane and tail, though still long and flowing, had lost their deific multi-hued glowing bands, and reverted to their original natural pastel pink.

My wings were still there, smaller to match my reduced stature, but no less functional...

And my voice! I realized with a start that my voice sounded younger as well.

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and reached for something old. Buried. Forgotten. But familiar... Like an old friend not seen in ages.

The noise of crystal chimes filled the room again, and I felt, with an immense wash of relief, my magic reach out and snag the water glass.

I took three slow, careful sips, pausing between each to breathe gently, before speaking again.

"What became of our enemies? How did the battle end?"

Hutch whistled through his beak, and motioned towards Skye with one claw as he offered up a truncated recounting.

"She and Taranis annihilated them. We could see the light show on orbital feeds... It was incredible. Whatever was left, we pummeled with particle beams, railgun rounds, and fuel air bombs until everything was just dust, and echoes."

The words offered some comfort. At least we had not sacrificed entirely in vain...

All those lives lost...

Lost, with no chance of salvation.

And I had nearly dragged so many good soldiers down with them. Nearly lost myself to that howling void...

I looked up and locked eyes with Skye. I could see the pain behind the twin bright orbs.

There would be time for recriminations later. Plenty of them.

I had a duty in the here, and now, and I could not shirk it. Not after all I'd asked of the little Unicorn with so much heart. And, apparently, magical potential.

"Thank you, Skye. I owe you my life. You risked much to rescue me from my own foalishness. That is thrice now that so many of us owe you a debt we can never hope to repay, if I am not mistaken..."

Shakily, I rose, stepping down off the table, a victim of exhaustion more than anything else. It was strange to be slightly below eye-level for the Gryphons, and closer to eye level with Skye.

But there was a kind of welcome relief to it as well... As if coming down to eye level allowed me to shed the burden of rulership that I sometimes hated so...

I pushed the thoughts aside, and moved to place my muzzle even with Skye's as I continued.

"Your bravery, and your skill, are worthy of great recognition. Regret has no place in your heart. I at last slipped into the same dark pit as Luna once did... And where I was not there for her? You were there for me..."

I dipped my head, and bent my front legs, kneeling in a gesture of respect, and thanks. As I raised my head to see the silent shock written on Skye's muzzle, I smiled forlornly.

"This... Will not be easy for me. But it is a lesson that I am glad to be alive to learn. We have much to discuss, you and I. And all of us together as well..."

I clenched my eyes shut and stumbled slightly, my stomach protesting violently at the lack of energy, and nutrition left in my body. I could feel a soreness in my wing roots as well, though the pain of my wound had been reduced to naught but a barely noticeable scar by the wonders of Human medical technology.

"...Perhaps some sustenance first? And then we must prepare to depart. Our battle is no longer here, on this world. Not for the present, at any rate."

Seeing the relieved, still-concerned, and inquisitive smiles all around as the group surrounded me, and moved to the door, I knew I'd done the right thing.

They needed me to prove that I was still every inch an Alicorn. And ready to muster myself again to the fight.

Whether it was really true, or not?

I could not fail them.

Not again.

Fyrenn

Getting used to Celestia's younger appearance, and voice, was a surprisingly difficult task.

I was so used to thinking of her as an ascended being...

Not a goddess, or even a demi-goddess... More like a hero of Greek myth. Someone in the same vein as Hercules, with the blood of a goddess in her, but still a mortal at the end of the day...

But a mortal in an entirely different bracket of existence and evolution.

Someone with far more experience, wisdom, authority, and power than I.

But now she appeared, and sounded younger, shorter and smaller...

She was still eons old, with all memories and experiences intact...

But she seemed to have regressed to the body of a young adult of her kind, rather than the mythical Elven agelessness she'd displayed before.

She was freely discussing it, which I wasn't entirely sure whether to consider a comforting, or worrying thing. But it was fascinating at any rate. According to her recounting, Princess Luna had encountered a similar effect when freed from the Nightmare.

At least Celestia's healing regression seemed to be accompanied by a renewal of her energy... As if she'd been granted a second lease on life itself.

But at the same time, it was easy to posit that what Skye had done, based on how she had explained it at any rate, had robbed Celestia of nine tenths of her actual magical power.

She was no longer an avatar of the Sun, or whatever the 'sun' was for her part of Equestria.

She was more akin to a newly minted Alicorn; A Unicorn with a slightly larger Thaumatic tap. Nothing more or less.

That did not bode well, from a tactical standpoint.

Encouragingly, as Celestia had told it, when Luna had re-grown into her fully adult shape, all of her magic, power, and connection to the Moon, had returned undamaged, in full.

But concerningly, that had taken many months of recovery.

Likely more time than we had left, before we would have to fight the last great battle of a very taxing war.

But those who are granted life, after begging, should not resent the other choice in that equation.

Better to have Celestia alive, and with us, than dead, or much, much worse.

Her words had done a lot for Skye's mental state, and I was deeply grateful for that too.

I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder to see my sister... And it was so good to know that she wanted to see herself in that light too... To see my sister laughing at something Alyra had said. It was brief, but the genuine mirth was there.

Neyla caught my glance, and offered me a smile, and a wink.

'Go tend to our plans. I will watch over all of them.'

It was almost as if I could hear her voice in my head.

I nodded, and slipped out of the private dining hall quietly.

We were making every effort to insulate Celestia, both for her sake, and the sake of Ponykind, until she felt strong enough to make some sort of official statement.

Frankly, I knew that wasn't going to happen Earth-side.

We were scheduled to depart later in the day, and as far as I was concerned we should have left then and there. Of course, there were plenty of reasons we could not... Skye still had one last task of her own to perform. Only she, and Neyla, Martins, and I knew of the ask, but the materials were ready, and an empty lab had been provided.

While I was speaking with Martins, and Sorven, one last time, Skye would be busy constructing a vessel for my 'Hail Mary.' A backup plan to end all backup plans.

As dangerous, and fast-moving as the situation was on Earth, no one would survive if we failed to stop the invasion in Equestria.

No one but the enslaved, at any rate.

We would have to leave the Earth in the care of Martins, and Sorven, and their colleagues.

Another thing to be grateful for; I trusted those women with my life, and the lives of my family. Having strong, trustworthy, competent leaders to care for the world would do a great deal to assuage my fears.

If they and those they in turn trusted to be by their side could not hold things together?

I very much doubt I, or anyone else, could have a hope of faring any better.

With a short, sharp rap of my claws, I announced my arrival at Martins' office. The journey there had been a blur of a thousand different trains of thought, all culminating in the meeting I had requested with the aforementioned women.

The door slid open, and Sorven gestured for me to follow her into the office. Martins sat behind the desk, fidgeting nervously with a small model of a space shuttle. The three of us were alone, as I had requested.

I walked slowly to the desk, withdrew a DaTab from the feathers of my neck, and placed it gently before the ex-Councilor.

She lifted it silently, switched it on, and read for nearly two minutes without speaking. She then handed the device to Sorven, who began to pace the room slowly as she ingested the information.

As sorven paced, Martins pushed a small red and silver disc-shaped, slightly domed metal container across the desk to me.

I lifted it gently, and exhaled deeply.

"I know this could not have been easy to accomplish. And I know that it certainly could not have been easy to trust me with this... Even as well as we know each other, and as much as we have done for one another."

Martins raised an eyebrow, and smirked, steepling her hands with the tips of her fingers touching her lips, elbows resting on the desk as she spoke.

"You got that right. But, ultimately? After what we saw yesterday? This is hardly a risk, all things considered. You did your part to save Humanity. It is my turn to do my part to save us all... And as for trusting you?"

She rose, and offered a hand, which I shook warmly, then leaned forward, and offered her a brief embrace

"It was as easy as breathing, Fyrenn."

As we pulled apart, we both smiled, and I secreted the small red container away in the feathers of my neck.

"Thank you, Janet. I know the contents of that tablet are no small ask either... But as far as doing your part to keep everyone alive? That may turn out to be just as important as the rest of your trust."

Sorven moved to stand beside the desk, and set the tablet down, raising an eyebrow, and inhaling deeply before providing her own thoughts.

"You understand that if this does work? It will change everything. There will be inevitable, serious consequences for what you propose. And even with the resources here? It will still take months to muster what you've asked."

I nodded, and tapped the surface of the tablet with an index talon. I'd gone over the same thoughts myself, round and round in circles, all through the retreat, and all through the night after our return to Lucapa.

"I understand. And I am sure; This is our best bet. Skye thinks we do have a few months before this all comes crashing down to an end... We have to make them count, like never before."

Martins sat back in her chair, and nodded, gesturing to the window, and the midday iron gray of the sun.

"And while we are trying to simultaneously avert war here, prepare another wave of ships at ten times the planned original rate of speed, and put together what you've asked for... What are you planning to do?"

I reached out to shake General Sorven's hand, and then turned towards the door. As I reached the archway, and the panels slid back, I cast a small smile over my shoulder.

"I'm going to raise one ever living hell of an army."

Taranis

I recognized Fyrenn's claw and pawsteps even before he came level with me in the corridor.

A glance backwards in my thermal vision confirmed the sound cue. I smiled, and rumbled a greeting deep in my chest.

"Greetings Fyrenn. How are the others in your family? Particularly Skye?"

He smiled up at me, and fell into step beside me, his legs working at three times the rate of mine to keep pace as he responded with a soldier's joviality in the face of dark times.

"She is doing better than I'd hoped. She is to officially join my family, as my sister. That has given her something to hope for, and she is strong. The Princess is awake as well now, and her words have certainly helped to bolster everyone. How about you? No intractable wounds, either of mind, or spirit, after the battle?"

I could not resist a hearty laugh. The sound shook the floor plating, and seemed to briefly alarm several Human technicians in the nearest junction, before they realized that the noise was one of mirth.

"It will take far more than that to dent these scales. Or my resolve. Death will need to bring something with considerably more firepower when he comes for me. And I will still make him regret it before I go."

The red Gryphon chuckled, and his smile widened into one of warm camaraderie. I liked his sensibility, and his demeanor. We walked onwards in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

"Hutch has always talked very highly of you. And I can see why. I did a little digging, and read through your file last night in between other tasks. Including the parts that were supposed to be inked out. You're a consummate warrior. And a warrior of conscience, at that."

Fyrenn quickened his pace, moved ahead of me, turned, and sat back on his haunches. I halted, and did the same, cocking my head slightly as I waited for him to ask what I thought he was going to ask.

"The war? The one that really matters? It's not here on Earth anymore. And we will need every good warrior we can get, if we want to survive long enough to have the luxury of worrying about Humanity's petty conflicts again. I want you to come with us. Join the fight. And, if you're willing? Join our clan. I've seen how you are with the others... I'd like a chance for you to be a friend, not just a comrade in arms."

I nodded, thrumming deep in my chest as I thought about his words. They were not entirely unexpected. Even the ask to join the clan, though that was the less anticipated of the two requests.

Based on what I had seen alone, to say nothing of everything else I'd hear and read, he was not wrong; The final battle of the most dangerous war of the age would not take place on Earth.

I held up a claw, and inclined my head as I drew breath to give my answer.

"My preference has always been to go where the most important fight is. I will come with you. And while I will not give a definitive yes to the question of your clan at this moment... I would very much like the opportunity to go on fighting beside your family. I think there is every chance we will be good friends. And better than half odds that you shall get a 'yes' out of me in the end all the same."

I moved my claw down, and held it outstretched. Fyrenn smiled broadly again, and clasped it firmly.

"Welcome to the Vanguard of the End Times. You'll fit right in. Pack your bags, because we leave at dusk."

I grinned in spite of myself.

Yes. I did quite like his sense of humor.

Pain was good, as far as Norris was concerned.

Pain meant nerves, nerves meant breath, breath meant life.

As she drifted back to consciousness, the General realized that the pain wasn't even all that intense... Mostly a function of the protestations in the muscles of her neck, and around her ribs.

The latent bruising, for that was definitely what it was, reminded her of paradrop training. The feeling of hitting the ground at a speed just high enough to leave a lasting mark. The feeling of having had an argument with force and momentum that ended in a stalemate.

Norris opened her eyes, and felt a sense of mild relief, followed by sudden concern.

The room was clearly a Human medical facility of some kind; The visual design language of the walls, the lights, all the technology... It was unmistakably EarthGov.

But it was immediately apparent that it was not graced with any official EarthGov emblems.

And it was visibly more sophisticated.

Closer in technical bracket to the Genesis project's equipment, than to the EarthGov's.

Norris sat up and rubbed the back of her neck as she swept the room with her eyes. Small, but not cramped. Gray, but not spartan. Uncluttered, but not empty. And the door appeared to be locked, as indicated by a soft red glow on the access panel.

Curious.

As Norris reached down to scratch her throat, eyes casting about for a source of water, her fingers met up with a smooth, cold surface. She yelped before she could get ahold of herself, and scrambled madly to bring her head to an angle that would bring the offending material into view.

Casting about furtively, she spied a mirror affixed above a small sink, and dashed over. The sight of her throat took her aback, freezing her in her tracks.

A red hexagonal gem, taller than wide, perfectly faceted, rested in the hollow of her throat, the skin joined to the edges of it as if it were a part of her neck that had always been there.

Norris gulped, and inhaled raggedly, suddenly finding it difficult to stand, and to breathe.

She closed her eyes, and focused, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides, until her breathing normalized. The gem didn't seem to be interfering with the normal operation of her throat, and lungs... Good.

The General opened her eyes, moved to the sink, and switched on the cold tap with a wave of one hand, making a conscious effort to stare at the gem first, then taking a sip, and taking stock of her clothing as she swallowed.

The fabric was black and gray, with a subtle biophobic hexagon pattern layered over an even more subtle, but still visible energy matrix waveguide of some kind. It ran all throughout the skin-tight jumpsuit, which even had gloves, and foot covering built-in.

As Norris ran her left finger down the right sleeve, the sound of a hiss and a releasing maglock alerted her to the opening of the room's only door.

She spun and glared as three figures entered.

The tallest was a Diamond Dog Lupine, a bit short and lithe for his kind, with a light colored two tone cream coat, and sharp green eyes, dressed in heavy leather backed steel plate armor of Equestrian make.

The shortest was a Unicorn pony; Also a touch short for her kind, though it was subtle. Red fur, orange mane, and a cutie mark in the shape of a musical note. Norris didn't know enough about musical theory to know the exact note in question.

The Pony also, tellingly, wore similarly well made, but unmarked gray steel armor.

In between the two Equestrians stood a Human. Norris recognized him immediately.

Councilor Lindstrom smiled, and gestured expansively.

"Please excuse the surprising nature of all of this. We had to act quickly to rescue you. There wasn't time for polite discussion, or introductions. And had you ended up in the claws of the JRSF? You would be dead now, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Norris' eyes narrowed, and she moved her glance quickly back and forth between Lindstrom, the Lupine, and the Pony. The latter being smirked in a just ever so slightly un-Ponylike fashion that gace Norris pause.

Lindstrom took another step forward, and pointed to the gem on Norris' throat.

"I imagine you must have questions...? Allow me to shed some light on the subject."

Cam turned to the Lupine, and then gestured towards Norris.

"Matthas, if you would be so kind?"

The Lupine rolled his eyes, and opened the collar of his armor to reveal a red gem identical to Norris' own.

There was a growl, a sudden flash of red light, and when Norris' eyes adjusted to the flare of brilliant magical energy, the Lupine, and all of his armor, were gone.

In his place stood a balding man wearing a jumpsuit identical to hers, with the same gem at his throat.

Norris inhaled sharply as his face registered with her. She recognized him. For the same reason she recognized Lindstrom.

"Matthas Korvan?!"

Norris didn't quite realize she had spoken the name as a half question, half statement of stark surprise.

Korvan nodded, and folded his arms, glowering as he spoke.

"The very same. And you are General Anna Norris, recently of the GMCC. Damn fine mess you made of that job, eh?"

Norris drew breath to fire off a sharp retort, but Lindstrom interrupted swiftly, holding up both hands in a conciliatory fashion.

"Please, please... Let's all calm down. There are plenty of mistakes to pin on all of us, and plenty of blame for various slipups to go around. And, too, plenty of praise for jobs well done in the service of Humanity, and of peace. Let's try this again, from the top, shall we?"

Lindstrom's expression morphed smoothly back into a smile, and he gestured to each being in the room in turn.

"Requiem? Matthas? This is General Anna Norris, recently of the Global Military Command Center, formerly of the HLF. General, this is Matthas Korvan, formerly a Councilor of the Biotechnological Combine party, and a patriot, like yourself... Albeit of a slightly different persuasion..."

The Councilor gestured at last to the Unicorn, who smiled and inclined her head. The slightly predatory upturn at the corners of her muzzle seemed just a hair out of place on a Pony's muzzle. Norris shivered.

"...And this is Requiem. She is the generous donor of the knowledge that created that lovely little piece of jewelry that you and Matthas are wearing, and your rescuer from the jaws of certain death. She will also be your guide for the duration of your next mission."

Norris balled her right hand into a fist, and leaned close into Lndstrom's face, forcing her words out through grit teeth, and a haze of sudden anger.

"Just what the FUCK did you put into me while I was out Cam, you slimy bastard?! And what do you mean *guide?!* I am not going *anywhere* or doing *anything* until I get a detailed explanation. You understand me?!"

Lindstrom took a step back and held up his hands once again, his voice rising into an apologetic register.

"Anna? I know you are upset. Please try to open your mind, and see the bigger picture here. You are among friends. Colleagues, even. A briefing has been assembled for you... Let's get you some food, some coffee, and get you setup with that before we do anything else. I promise the packet will answer all of your questions. Alright?"

Norris nodded slowly, and exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose and then gesturing in frustration.

"Fine. What other choice do I have?"

Lindstrom smiled, and placed a hand gently on Norris' shoulder.

"That's the spirit General. You'll find that we respect, and still recognize your official title here..."

The words brought forth an expression of pure inquisitive interest from Norris, and gave Cam the opening he had been looking for to 'seal the deal.'

"...We're very glad to have a woman of your expertise to help lead us into the next century of Human achievement. Welcome to the EarthGov Continuity Project."

Author's Note

Requiem is the fascinating creation of Equestrian Wyvern, used here with permission - Expect to see much more of her to come, she's very interesting indeed!

Chapter 28

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 14th, Gregorian Calendar

Hutch

"Why am I so nervous? This will be a cinch, right? Nothing to it."

Fyrenn smirked at me. Smirked outright, as he tightened down my borrowed ceremonial sash; Someone in the JRSF, another Gryphon, had one in my size, and had graciously lent it on short notice.

Fyrenn had, somewhere in between all his meetings, and letter writing, and sneaking about with Skye, managed to make time to borrow all the awards, service ribbons, and various decorations that I would have had if I still held an active commission.

Once upon a time, I'd've cried 'sacrilege!' at the idea of a discharged officer wearing a formal dress uniform. Boy how the times had changed.

How *I* had changed.

Fyrenn's smirk changed to a warmer smile as he stepped back to admire his work. I moved my eyes from his, to the mirror that made up one of the only three pieces of furniture in the ante-chamber.

As Fyrenn spoke, I was hit with the strangest sense of both familiarity, and unreality, seeing myself reflected there in reds, browns, and grays, decked out in a Gryphon's JRSF duty armor, and a formal dress sash that weighed almost five pounds with all the adornments.

"It isn't nerves, exactly. What you're feeling is *anticipation.* This is something both of you have wanted for years; And now here you are. About to start the first day of the rest of your life... Together. Everything is going to change for you; More than it already has, if you can believe it. And you're gonna love every second of that new reality, because she loves you so much, and you love her right back."

I titled my head, and cocked a wry grin, contemplating my reflection for a few moments longer before I rose from my haunches, and got my thoughts into something resembling logical order.

"Ya know something? You've gotten a whole lot more sentimental, and emotionally intelligent since you became a father. It's a good look on you."

He snorted good naturedly, and shook his head. I reached out, seized by a sudden impulse, and grabbed him in a hug with both wings, and forelegs. After a moment, he got over his surprise, and responded in kind as I spoke into his ear from my position, resting my head on his right shoulder.

"Thank you. For everything. For being a stubborn bastard about seeing into that crate. For not giving up, countless times, when everyone else was stumped, or had their hands tied. For always doing what you felt was the right thing, even when we gave you hell for it... But most especially... For being family. For making the choice to invite us into your family."

He squeezed my shoulders with his claws, and pulled back slightly to offer me another smile with his words. I could feel the warmth down in my bones, coming from his smile, and his tone. God... How had I lived so long, feeling so alone, before this? Before Aston, and Fyrenn, and Neyla, and the rest of 'em...

How had I even survived?

"Thank *you* for giving in, and bending the rules when it mattered. And for not decking my jaw. And for being there with me when I did things that frightened everyone... And for making the choice to let all the rest of us into your heart. I'm so happy, and honored, to be here beside you for this."

He stepped back and glanced at the entry door to the conference room, the smirk returning in full to both beak, and voice.

"Speaking of which... I do believe It is part of my responsibility as best man, to get you to the church on-time."

Aston

"Promise me you are going to stay with us."

Alyra's words were like an electric shock, as if someone had stuck the end of my tail into an open power outlet.

I'd more or less made up my mind fairly early on; We'd be fools to turn down Fyrenn's invitation. For all my frustrations with some of the decisions he had made, I could not fault his character, nor his excellence as a soldier.

And my new husband-to-be loved him like a son.

I'd sooner pluck out all the feathers on my head than drive a wedge into that relationship.

To say nothing of how much I'd grown to love the growing little fur and feather-ball that was carefully pinning awards and emblems to my sash.

And was now piercing me with the kind of begging, longing, wide-eyed expression all children, and young adults, somehow seemed to know how to make instinctively.

I waited until Alyra had finished with the last service ribbon, then reached out with both claws and pulled her close to my chest. It felt good to say aloud what I'd been thinking about all day, but been too busy to really discuss with anyone.

"Would I ask you to be my maid of honor, and then say no to that? Of course we are going to stay with you. Someday if you ever take a shine to a special someone of your own, I want to be there to stand beside you. And if not? I still want to be there to make sure your father doesn't keep you out of too much trouble."

She giggled, and pressed her head into the feathers of my chest, before pulling away, and straightening my sash one last time, slowly, almost absently.

"You know... Sonya and I used to talk about all the things we wanted to do... After we escaped to Equestria... It was never easy to think about all those good things that seemed so far away. But I knew we had to have something to hope for... So I kept pushing. Kept making her talk about it. She always used to say she wanted us to be in somebody's wedding. We didn't even care who... Just to be there. To be a part of it. To see that kind of love, and know that it was real..."

Alyra smiled, and my heart just about broke inside my rib cage. In that moment she looked older than me. Sounded older. Wise. Weary. Sad. But grateful too. And joyful. An aching mix of wishing for what could have been, but also being so glad for what already was.

I wrapped my left wing around her and pulled her to my side, staring at our twin reflections in the mirror that someone had thoughtfully provided to the otherwise sparse entry antechamber.

Motherhood was not something that had been on my radar. Not for a decade or more. Career was my love, and my life, until I'd met Hutch. And even then, I don't think I could've ever reached a point where I knew him so well, and loved him so much, if we hadn't been able to bond over that shared part of our lives.

The one time I'd actually seriously considered the idea, before the barrier, before Equestria, before any of it... My conclusion had been that there were already too many starving mouths on the planet. Adding another one... Bringing another life into the world, and having to raise that bright eyed wondrous creature on the truth...? That they would inherit a dying rock, and have at best a half chance of seeing the Human species get better, rather than worse, in their lifetime?

'Anti-natalist traitor.' 'Good for nothing bitch.' That's what my mother had called me. It was one of the last things she'd said to me. Before she died.

The irony of the woman who birthed me, chewing me out at age twelve over my decision to one day be sterilized, as she died of a rare mutated cancer that even nano-tech treatments couldn't hold off. A byproduct of the strange gray hell we'd all been born into; Too little real sunlight, too much synthetic food. Too many industrial pollutants in the water.

One small sequence that would have been caught, and treated in-utero, if her own mother had just bothered to get tested when she got pregnant.

My mother hadn't gotten tested either. I suppose I was lucky to have avoided the same fate; The defect had a one in three chance of passing on matrilineally.

I suppose the risk of genetic disease didn't matter now. Neither did my sterilization, for that matter. Conversion had stripped both away. Reforged my body completely. Nothing left physically of the old.

I sighed, and reached down with my beak to preen a small part of Alyra's crest that had gotten out of sorts when she pressed her head to my chest.

Equestria didn't change the calculus, and neither did my new body; There were still too many hungry mouths in the worlds to consider bringing a new one into them, in my book.

But that didn't mean that I couldn't be a mother.

Neyla was a mother now, and Alyra had once been one of those starving mouths, abandoned in the street... I'd never considered adoption before. Not because it didn't appeal to me; I felt the concept was noble, and right, and beautiful...

More because I'd always been a soldier.

In Human society, it was hard to be a soldier, and a mother.

Sorven did it, somehow... But it had clearly been hard on her, and her sons.

But for Gryphons?

For Gryphons it was different. Neyla had told me a lot about the way their society worked on and off over the years. Gryphons placed utmost value on people, and on life. To them, time and money were just tools.

Where Humans would often have so little leeway, or grace, Gryphons didn't bat an eye at the idea of going to almost any lengths to ensure their people didn't just exist, but that they lived, vibrantly and happily.

It was one of the things we seemed to share much in common with the Ponies; At the end of the day, money, and time, and goals, and deadlines, were all tertiary to people.

In that kind of world? I could see myself as a mother.

Something I would have plenty of time to talk to Hutch about.

If we survived the war.

And if we didn't?

I shoved the thought to the side, and mustered a warm smile. If we died, we would die together, happy, and fulfilled. A better ending than most could hope for.

With a sigh, I released Alyra from my wing, and gestured towards the door.

"I think it's time."

Martins

From the youngest age, I knew I wanted a career that would take me to the stars. It had come in a roundabout way, through science, politics, and then finally a strange mix of the two... But one day soon, if things fell out just right, I would get to live out my wildest dreams.

Never in the wildest of those wild imagings had I ever thought that one of the happier mileposts on that road to the stars would be 'officiant of a wedding between two Gryphons,' where one of them was a former jarhead turned dear friend, and the other was nearer to a sister to me than not.

The collision of worlds had brought a lot of strange things into everyones' lives, for good, and for ill. This was most definitely one of the better gifts it had given, as far as I was concerned.

So there I stood in one of my semi-formal suits; A steel bowl full of burning coals atop a chest-high stand in front of me, an enormous blue Dragon behind me, a Unicorn to one side, a Gryphoness to the other, and not another soul in the room.

Hutch and Aston had insisted that the ceremony be quick, small, and intimate.

Taranis and Skye were the remainder of the groom and bridal parties respectively, Neyla would help to handle the more Gryphon-specific required aspects of the ceremony, I would otherwise officiate, and Fyrenn and Alyra would act as best man and maid of honor.

In many ways it was a heart-warming sight; So many different kinds, backgrounds, and outlooks, even in that small group, all joined together in celebration. It struck me that for all the worries I had about the balance of species numbers in Genesis, that if this was the kind of thing that diversity would bring for our future, then it was something well worth having.

I'd been told beforehand only what Hutch and Aston wanted me to say by way of some hastily written formal speechcraft that was apparently equal parts Gryphon and Human in its inspirations, and that besides the need for the burning coals in the brazier, that Neyla would be singing, and that Skye needed a small length of rope.

It still shocked my socks off when Neyla opened her beak, and began a wordless lilting polyphonic chorus of notes that filled the room the way an acapella orchestra of five or six Humans might have.

I kept forgetting how amazing a syrinx was as a musical tool. For a moment I was completely lost in the tune as she sang in multi-part harmony with herself, something that sounded equal parts slow triumphant march, and sweet comforting lullaby.

The doors to both antechambers opened, and Hutch and Aston approached the stage, both beaming, each escorted by their chosen companion.

They were each led to an opposite side of the brazier, both rising to their hind legs, as Fyrenn raised Hutch's right claw, and Alyra raised Aston's.

With a huge smile, Skye trotted forward, and lifted the small length of synthetic twine rope in her magical field, deftly tying it off to both right wrists, leaving Hutch and Aston bound together with a couple of feet of leeway.

Fyrenn and Alyra stepped back, and with a nod from Neyla, I stepped forward, steeling myself and drawing on years of practice to speak words I'd had very little time to memorize, both correctly, and in a way that would not sound rote, or mechanical.

"My dear friends; You are here today to take part in a joining of two souls in bonds of love, and family. One and all, we share in the elation, and the peace, and the fulfillment, of hearts knit together by unbreakable bonds. In fury of battle, and in tranquility of rest. In happiness, and sadness. Through the mundane, and the extraordinary. In throes of illness, or strength of wellness. In life, and in death; Will you each vow to guard, uplift, enliven, enrich, embolden, and empower each other, in love, forevermore?"

Their answer came in unison, as much with warmth, and peace, as with an edge of surety.

"We will."

They opened their bound right claws, and placed them side by side over the fire, the two claws forming half each of a bowl shape. Neyla stepped forward beside me, and extended an index talon. I braced myself, and continued speaking.

I didn't like to see wounds inflicted intentionally, but I understood both the ceremonial meaning, and the biological necessity.

"Then with the sharing of blood, and the heat of sacred fire, pledge your love to one another, nevermore to be severed by any force, on Earth, or beyond, from heights of Heaven, or from depths of Hell."

Neyla offered her friends a wide comforting smile, and then somehow gently, but forcefully, made a precision slit in the palms of each proffered claw, deep enough to draw significant amounts of golden-red blood to the surface of the scaly outer covering.

She then reached into the fire with the tips of her talons, extracted a red hot coal, and deposited it into their waiting bleeding palms.

The pair clasped their right claws together, hard, mixing blood from both wounds freely, the excess dripping down to sizzle in the remainder of the coals below.

After a moment, eyes locked, smiling broadly at each other with expressions that seemed to radiate light all on their own, they plunged their clasped claws fully into the fire.

To their mutual credit, neither of them so much as winced. Intellectually I understood that while the maneuver was mildly painful, it was not nearly as painful as it would have been for Human hands.

The heat of the fire burned away the twine bond around their claws within moments, and after another heartbeat, they leaned forward and shared a long kiss overtop the flames. I felt like the moment would go on forever, my stomach churning at the thought of the heat on their claws and forelegs.

Then all at once they raised their claws free of the fire, dropping the coal they had clasped between them, and then tightening their grip as they raised their clasped digits to the sky.

I winced, but managed to remember to clap as the sound of Equine whinnying, Draconic roaring, and Eagle-like keening assailed my poor Human hearing from before and behind, as everyone joined the newly mated pair in celebratory natural noise making.

And just like that, it was over, and my ears and stomach were very, very grateful.

There was a great deal of hugging, into which I found myself begrudgingly, but happily enfolded, more than once. There were some tears as well. Mostly not mine. Mostly.

And then almost as quickly as it had begun, the ceremony became a tearful goodbye.

I think most of us understood that it was likely to be the last time I crossed paths with anyone else in the room.

Fyrenn had all but said his goodbyes before, so he choked back his tears admirably, said one last word of heartfelt thanks for my role in his Conversion, a promise to send all the help from the Kingdoms for Genesis that he could, should the war go in our favor, and then excused himself; I guessed to avoid becoming overcome entirely with emotion.

Neyla likewise offered my thanks, a quick peck on the cheek, a hug, and then waited while Alyra did the same, before they both departed to go with Fyrenn.

Skye proffered me a hoof, which I bumped with clenched fist. And then, grabbed by a moment of my own emotion, I knelt, and placed a small kiss on her forehead. She smiled forlorn up at me, and pressed her head briefly into the crook of my shoulder, before departing wordlessly.

Taranis knelt to shake my hand with one of his enormous claws, and then offered a quick snap of a salute, and an almost monotone thanks, that still felt deeply genuine and emotional, before lumbering away.

At last, I was alone with just Hutch and Aston, each seated before me in their splendid armor and sashes, both doing a poor job of keeping their own tears in check.

After a moment of amicable silence, I leaned forward and embraced Aston. We who had, in many ways, shared a mother for many years. There had been a short time where we'd been inseparable, like sisters ourselves, before we grew apart.

"I'm glad we got the chance to be sisters again, for a little while."

She clutched my shoulders tighter as I murmured the words in her ear, and pressed the side of her head into mine as she replied.

"So am I Janet. So am I."

We held the embrace for several more tearful moments, before I pulled away, and straightened the hem of my jacket, sniffing to clear my sinuses of emotional blockage.

I turned to Hutch, and first offered him a hand to shake, but ended up in another close embrace in spite of myself.

"You know, Martins... If you're the future of Humanity's politics? Out there in the black? I think we're gonna be ok."

As we pulled away from the hug, he smiled, and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Thank you. For everything."

I inclined my head, inhaling deeply to steady my voice before speaking.

"And thank you. If what we've experienced together is the future, for all of us?"

I glanced back over my shoulder at the burning coals, and smiled as I finished the thought.

"...Then I think we're all going to be far better than 'ok.' "

Celestia

Fyrenn said he wanted to call them 'Shrikes.'

Though it was the name of a kind of song bird, I wished he had picked a less aggressive songbird after which to name such a beautiful craft, that I hoped would see more use as a vehicle of exploration and peace, than of war, or even defense.

I had suggested perhaps 'Wren,' in an amusing twist of glad irony.

But no, he had insisted, and it seemed to have stuck like glue; Shrike it was.

Councilor Martins had graciously offered the use of three of the vehicles for a 'sub-orbital atmospheric skip flight,' to get us back to the Durham crossover point, so that we could be there as swiftly as possible.

One vessel for myself, a single guardspony, Fyrenn, Neyla, Alyra, and Skye. Another for Hutch, Aston, and Taranis, with barely an inch leftover to breathe between them. And a final one for two other Gryphons, and their adoptive Pegasus foal, as well as the remainder of my guard contingent, despite their protestations.

Once again, Fyrenn seemed to have pulled an unconventional group of creatures into his orbit, as if by magnetic attraction. I'd learned that the once orphaned foal, and the male Gryphon, were converts, while the female was a native. Striking commonalities to Fyrenn, Neyla, and Alyra.

I smiled as I watched them exchange a few final words before boarding; Every time I saw lines of species, and origin, and culture being crossed for friendship's sake, it felt as if a small piece of the void of worry, fear, and sadness inside me was filled in.

As I cinched down a set of Equine-specific straps, planting my legs firmly between upright deployable pads made specifically to be the Pony equivalent of an acceleration chair, I could not shake a new, and tremendously disquieting feeling.

An overwhelming sense that this would be the very last time I stood in a Human vehicle.

That it was the very last time I would bid farewell to planet Earth.

I kept silent, churning over the thoughts in my head, and my heart, as Fyrenn, Neyla, Alyra, and Skye talked softly amongst themselves about the wedding they had just attended. I had been invited, but been forced to decline; The medical examinations had been seemingly interminable, but they were deemed necessary before allowing me to depart on a high-relative-G trip.

And I hadn't wanted to overshadow Hutchinson and Aston's moment.

I knew that, above all, they had wanted a quiet ceremony. Though I was their friend, I certainly did not rise to the level of 'family' for them, and that was not something that bothered nor offended me.

If I had my way, I would get another chance to see a Gryphon wedding, soon enough. I'd just need to play the hoof I'd been dealt very carefully, and tactfully.

As the Shrike passed out of what the Humans called 'Max-Q' and the intense acceleration of launch and initial flight phase gave way to a few moments of less intense high upper atmosphere cruising, Neyla leaned over and began to preen some of Alyra's crest feathers that had gotten out of sorts during boarding.

Fyrenn and Skye shared a few words, so low and quiet that even my ears could not pick them out across the transport bay, and then Skye passed Fyrenn a small cylindrical object made of Equestrian brass, dangling from a chain of fine, but strong steel links.

When he twisted it slightly, opening the outer casing to reveal an inner network of intricate silver filaments, the thing glowed with an ethereal light that it took me several seconds to recognize as raw energy pressing into the arcanic spectrum, rather than visible light that might've been apparent to any other being.

Fyrenn held the claw-sized cylinder for a long moment, staring at it as if it were a fell thing that he would rather not have in his possession, before he snapped the protective shield shut again, cutting off its arcanic signature entirely.

He then placed the chain around his neck, secreting the cylinder itself away into the hollow where the joining of his neck, right wing, and right foreleg created a small protected space, as Gryphons were often wont to do with precious objects.

As he looked up from his work, he caught my questioning gaze. The way he averted his eyes frightened me. Whatever was inside that cylinder, it was something he very much preferred not to discuss with me.

The implications of that, given the kind of tactical thinker he was, and the sort of things he knew I'd disapprove of, were the stuff of worries that I knew would lead to more than one sleepless night. For us both.

He rifled through his small Equestrian canvas rucksack for a moment, then withdrew something that I recognized, with a wince, as all that was left of his sword.

For the better part of fifteen minutes, I watched him stare morosely at the scarred remains.

Skye had told me of what the Nightmare had done to the weapon, leaving behind only the hilt, and a small ragged bit of the formerly well honed alloy blade itself.

Gryphons were seldom materialistic; Often, because of the unique bent of their culture, their weapons were some of their most treasured, and carefully kept possessions. Even as one who eschewed violence, I could sense his feelings of loss.

And I could even empathize.

I'd had my own share of armors and weapons in the past. Many had served me well. Quite a few had been damaged beyond repair, or destroyed in battle. It always felt akin to losing an old friend.

The sword had been a symbol of his rebirth. And of his love for Skye, whom I understood was soon to formally be his sister.

That thought forced out some of my darker musings, and summoned a soothing warmth in my chest. For every harsh word, or terrifyingly brash action, Fyrenn seemed to also do something tender, generous, or unexpected in kind.

The vision of his family; A future without national boundaries dictated by species, where culture could be a force to unify rather than divide, and differences were celebrated rather than feared...

If we could but end this War of Night... Make it over this great final hurdle...

Perhaps I would live to see that dream be born in full, and take its first steps in the warm light of the Sun.

I grit my teeth inside my muzzle, and closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing as the Shrike began aerobraking and rapidly descending.

'You will live to see this done. Luna will sit your throne. Twilight will ascend to your sister's place. You will watch as they all come together; Gryphons, and Ponies. Dragons, and Diamond Dogs. Native born, and Humans remade... The journey through the fires of this Hell will bring true Harmony at last. And you will live your gift-life walking among them. And at last, you too will have peace.'

I repeated the mantra thrice more, and then suddenly the ear-splitting whine of the engines spun down, and the jolting and vibrations stopped.

As the rear ramp dropped, I opened my eyes, and set to work with my magic, undoing the multipoint safety harness that had kept me in place during the flight. My bodyguard stood by, eyes front, head level, staring off into the middle distance, yet somehow watching me keenly all the while.

I could smell his discomfort. At both the moment of transition between secured vehicles, yes... But also at the sight of me. A cruel reminder of my vulnerability, and mortality.

And I could smell the intense scents of hot metal, and warm duracrete from outside.

Along with the stench of unwashed Humans and Ponies alike.

I'd seen the camps at the crossover point several times. The sights, smells, and sounds were not new to me...

But every time still felt like the first, in the worst way possible.

I moved down the boarding ramp, towards a familiar looking golden chariot, pulled by six Pegasus guards, and flanked by a dozen of my sister's Night Guard in new heavy Gryphon-made tactical armor, painted deepest non reflective black, with subtle matte dark blue trim.

Oh Luna.

Overreacting as always.

Though the gesture was certainly appreciated, if for no other reason than it betrayed the sheer depth of her love, and concern for me.

Skye hopped up onto Taranis' back as he dropped a wing, and he Neyla, Fyrenn, Alyra, Hutchinson, Aston, and their three new guests, took up a diamond formation ahead of the Night Guards, as I stepped into the back of the chariot.

A hundred JRSF officers of various species, all in menacing angular combat armor and brandishing enormous railguns, kept a one thousand foot square perimeter around the entire landing zone; Keeping back the gawking crowds of Humans, Ponies, and others, with the sternness of their expressions, and the open display of their very large weapons.

As the chariot began to rise, it struck me just how badly we had failed. Humans, and Equestrians both.

How badly I had failed.

With all the resources on both worlds, this kind of mad, dirty, exhausted, fraught scramble should not have been the defining image of crossing over into a new life.

I bit back tears as the ground hurtled away, and we began to move forwards towards the barrier.

That inescapable sense of finality was back. And stronger than ever.

I swiveled my head, and fixed the camp with my gaze, staring down into the eyes of the massed converts until the shimmer of the barrier passed over our group, and began to occlude my vision.

As Earth vanished in the distance, I set my wings, and my teeth, and murmured a promise aloud, but for my own ears only.

"We must do better. We *will* do better."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Alyra

Flying in such a big formation was a lot of fun!

Taranis took the lead, and Skye sat there on his back, wind in her mane, looking very pleased with herself. Mom was on the Dragon's left flank with Shierel, Dad on the right with William, and I was immediately behind and above with Miles.

The Night Guard Pegasi spread out in a V shape ahead of, and beside the chariot, Celestia's remaining Day Guard brought up the rear in a phalanx, and six gleaming white Pegasi pulled the vehicle at amazing speeds.

It was a lot of work to stay ahead of the group, but somehow we managed to keep pace.

It took me almost ten minutes to realize that the Pegasi were working together to create a large pocket of reduced relative mass, intense tailwind, and hugely reduced drag, allowing us all to match a pace over several hours that no creature could never have maintained long-duration under normal circumstances.

For a few minutes, I spent all my brian power on nothing but enjoying the sensation of clean, cool, Equestrian air through my feathers, and the smells of a living, breathing ocean. The sights of the setting sun, and rising moon.

It wasn't until Earth had disappeared over the horizon that I realized, with a start, that I would probably never see it again.

The last time I'd left, Dad and I had both been sure it was for good. We weren't exactly welcome after all we'd done, and said. And the feeling of distaste had been mutual.

This time it was different.

There was a sudden, strange sense that Earth itself might not be there when next I looked; Like a dusting of spring snow that had melted away under the morning sun.

The latest science said there were between eighteen and twenty years left for the planet.

But suddenly I couldn't shake a feeling of intense, gut wrenching certainty; Earth would be gone much, much sooner than that.

I couldn't have said why I felt that way... Given any kind of rational justification for the impending sense that everyone on the other side of the Barrier was deluding themselves...

But it felt as sure and fixed as the patterns of the stars above my head.

My morbid train of thought was mercifully interrupted by the sound of a clearing throat.

I glanced to the right, refocusing my vision away from my imaginings, and saw Miles staring at me wide-eyed, as if he were just seeing me for the first time. He'd not uttered a single word to anyone but his Mom and Dad in the few hours I'd known him; He seemed withdrawn, in a way I recognized with a sad familiarity.

"Are... They real?!"

He gestured upwards with a hoof, but it took me a whole three seconds to realize that he was talking about the stars.

I nodded, and extended one talon to point out an especially vibrant blue-white pinprick of light, dancing on the edge of the blue velvet carpet of a distant nebula.

"That one is my favorite. We Gryphons call it Yllen'ùal; The Guide-Star. No matter the season, the time of night, or where you are in Equestria, it is always in the same place in the sky."

He squinted, his soft brown eyes offset by the shock of silvery mane between his ears. When he spoke again, I was surprised, but glad to hear curiosity, and a little confusion in his voice.

He'd seemed so sad before. To see any emotion take the place of that deep, cloying depression, was a welcome sight. He couldn't have been more than a few months younger, or older than me, and I could feel the same demeanor of an old soul, forged in pain and loss, radiating off him like an energy field.

"That's not possible... Unless this world isn't a rotating oblate spheroid. If we're on a planar disc of fixed position, and the star is very luminous, and very very far away, that would give it the appearance of being in the same place at all times..."

I more or less understood everything he'd said; Auntie Skye loved astronomy, and I always enjoyed hearing her talk about it. Miles had a piercingly sharp mind behind those sad chocolate colored eyes.

With a nod, I dipped my right wing and took up a position just beside the dark gray furred colt, lowering my voice to a more conversational level as the wind became less of an auditory obstruction.

"That's right. At least, based on what Skye says. All of Equestria is like a giant contact lens shape, and we're on the convex side. No one knows for sure, but Skye says she agrees with the astronomers who think that the Sun is actually an orbiting object that's much smaller than a natural star, and much closer to us."

Miles blinked several times, then his ears shot up as he reached the same conclusion I had when Skye first broached the idea to me. His voice was filled with wonderment as he stared up at first the stars, then sideways into my eyes.

"An artificial self-sustaining moon-sized fusion reactor?"

I grinned, and cocked my head, one ear perked, the other out to the side, making no attempt to hide my curiosity.

"Where did you learn all this? You're a heck of an astronomer for someone our age."

His face fell, and I knew I'd accidentally hit on something close to the source of his pain. I grit my beak, and prepared to press ahead as he answered in a low murmur; I knew from raw personal experience that it was better to get the bandage off fast.

"Mom was an astrophysicist at Berkeley. She was coming here with me and Dad, to take a position with the Canterlot Royal Library. They wanted her to study the Sun, and the Moon; To understand how it seems like there are two of each, one that the Alicorns control, and one that they don't..."

Shierel was not a Convert. 'Mom' was, in this case, obviously. That loss certainly explained his pain. I certainly knew what that was like...

'So be there for him. You beat this monster. He can too. You can show him. You can be friends. You both need a friend.'

I knew it was my own voice inside my head. But it sounded so much like Sonya in that moment. It's exactly what she would have said, if she was there.

And I knew in a flash that there was a future for that friendship. It was already real. I just had to reach out, and take one small step, to give it life.

For the first time in years, and the first time with anyone outside my new family, I felt ready. I wanted to make the connection. The sensation was not entirely alien, but it had been so long since I last felt it, that it almost flipped me over mid-flight, like a real physical impact.

Inhaling deeply, I stretched out a fisted claw, and offered Miles the best smile I could muster.

"I'm Alyra."

Dad had introduced everyone from both families to each other briefly, but it still felt right to make my own reintroduction, now that we were actually talking.

He returned the tiniest hint of a smile, and bumped my outstretched claw with his hoof.

"Miles."

I gestured up to Skye and Taranis, and let my smile morph into a mischievous grin.

"Skye, up there? She has access to the entire Canterlot Royal Archives, and Science Academy. I know for a fact that they have the biggest optical telescopes in Equestria. It won't take much prodding to get her to give us a tour."

For the first time, I saw Miles' expression dissolve into more anticipation, and happiness, than sadness.

I returned the smile contentedly.

It was a good start. For us both.

Chapter 29

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Luna

There is something truly special about a homecoming. I, more than most, know what it is that I have, because I once lost it. Know the true value of companionship. Of Family.

Seeing Celestia, as she had once been, over a thousand years ago... It was an incredibly strange mixture of emotions, all the stranger because each individual feeling, or memory, was so familiar. It was the intensity, and the unique blend, in that peculiar moment, that made it so difficult to properly process.

Accompanied by a familiar Unicorn, a young Pegasus, seven Gryphons, and a Dragon, all marching down the bridge to the castle, flanked by twin rows of guards, pennants and banners snapping in the cool night breeze...

She looked almost as she had at the end of the last war.

Younger. Bolder. Determined.

But also weaker. And with so very much more sadness behind her eyes.

As she approached, I could not hold my composure in the way I'd intended.

Stepping away from Kephic, Varan, Sildinar, Shining Armor, IJ, and Stalney, I crossed the last of the gap, knelt, and folded my wings and neck around my sister. The irony of the gesture was not lost on me, as we both fought to hold back our tears, for the sake of the assembled guard.

In relative terms to our lifespan, it had not been all that long ago that our positions had been reversed.

Such a familiar moment. And yet so strange. Moonrise, instead of Sunrise. I as the rock of age, wisdom, and power. Dear Celestia as the errant filly, seeking forgiveness for a mistake, and refuge from her fear.

Gryphons, a Dragon, and an eclectic mix of Ponies, instead of the six newly minted Element Bearers.

The assembled Night, and Day Guards, and the white marble spires of our castle at Canterlot, instead of the gray granite of our first home in Everfree.

The inverted parallels were as striking as the divide between the light and dark of the Moon.

As I held my sister close, both of us squinting our eyes shut against the tears, silently searching for a mote of peace in the whirlwind of life, I could hear the sounds of joyful reunion amongst the others.

What an odd sight it must have made for the Guard; Gryphons merrily introducing a Dragon to the Prince of the Crystal Empire. A Changeling sharing an embrace with a Unicorn. Backslapping camaraderie between Gryphons, and a Pegasus, and a former Guard Captain.

And in the center of it all, their former enemy, Avatar of a fear still raw in their minds, kneeling to embrace her sister, projecting strength, and calm, as their favorite Sovereign showed, for the first time publicly in living memory, humility, and weakness, without reservation.

Good.

No illusions of comfort would save us now.

Indeed, the laurels of the worship of Alicorn prowess, on which we'd so long rested, would only be a chain dragging us to drowning depths.

Better to see that we too needed someone to lean on. And to see, as importantly besides, that we would as readily lean on good souls from other kinds, as we would the shoulders of our own.

We held the moment as long as we could, but time marches ever on. With a sigh, I pulled away, glancing up to see that the greetings, and introductions, and general fuss of reunion between the others was dying down at last.

Carradan was so torn over being enamoured with Fyrenn and Neyla's visibly obvious confirmation of intention to mate by way of their crest feathers, and the presence of two of the newcomer Gryphons in particular, with whom he seemed quite familiar, that he looked as if he would burst.

Kephic, Varan, and Sildinar were just as overjoyed, but they were doing a better job of maintaining something resembling decorum. More or less.

Spreading one wing over my sister, I gestured towards the Castle doors with my head, raising my voice to make myself heard to all of our new guests at once.

"Fresh tea, and a warm fire, are prepared. Let us all catch our breath, and finish our introductions, in a little more comfort, and privacy."

As the ranks of guards closed behind us, and the doors were swung wide, I looked from face to face, and reflected that this was certainly going to be the most unusual evening tea my sister and I had ever shared.

I had rarely felt much cause to experience joy on behalf of someone else.

Happiness, because someone else was happy, not as a parasitic feeding impulse, but as a true empathetic experience.

Alyra had been one of the first real experiences in sharing another's joy, properly, symbiotically, and genuinely for me.

I'd grown to quite like the fiery little Human-turned-Gryphon. She came from a place of even fewer preconceptions about me, and my kind, than even her Father, or Stan did.

She'd approached me as if I were someone she wanted to get to know, and care about, and absolutely nothing else. No prejudices of any kind, or at least none that applied to me.

Her name meant joy, and it was aptly chosen. For someone who had suffered so much, her joy was intensely infectious.

Like all of us who had suffered oppression, she understood the value of everyday things that others might take for granted.

I knew that her name meant joy, because I spoke more than a little Gryphic.

Not especially well by their standards, because the language was specifically designed to defy understanding by minds other than those of Gryphons.

But I knew it well enough now to be slightly conversant.

And too, the changes my rebellious Hive had undergone seemed to have made the understanding of it, gleaned from Hive-stored memories and experiences, somehow easier.

My friendship with Alyra, as well as her father, and even with Neyla, had grown to a point where I experienced pure, loving joy as a result of the joy they found in each other.

Stan had developed a deep bond with all of the Gryphons as well, Alyra included, which only served to further reinforce the bond between the young Gryphon, and I, through our mutual connection to Stan.

I had expected to feel quite a great deal of joy if Fyrenn and Neyla had ever decided to put aside the moronic emotional dodge, parry, and weave of the one-forms and truly *love* each other.

What I had not expected was for them to come back from their excursion to Earth having finally taken the only advice Stan and I could agree to give them; Just dispense with your avian stupidity and kiss!

Nor had I expected that not only would I feel a great deal of joy on their behalf, but that their joy on Stan's behalf, and mine would be quite so intense.

And that all that love, and joy, would bounce around between all of the others in the group, growing more intense with each new and unique way that it passed between any two participants in a relationship, be that family or friendship, within the group.

It was overwhelming.

I felt as though I'd never need to sleep again.

I felt as though I could have taken on an army, single-hoof, and won with both wings tied shut. Blindfolded.

Though the Gryphons would not feel it nearly as keenly, nor their new Draconic friend, everyone was doubtless experiencing more than a little additional joy and energy as I radiated my own feelings back at them as part of the symbiotic process.

I took a moment to look around the old oaken trestle table at each face, lit by the warm welcoming glow of the kitchen hearth, often wreathed in the steam from a cup, mug, or tankard of tea, cider, or coffee, and simply contemplate.

I'd never seen Fyrenn so happy. Alyra gave him almost unfathomable joy. I could sense their bond from yards away, through stone walls. It was stronger than most, even in the context of the unusual strength of loving parent/child relationships.

But somehow his new acceptance of Neyla had... I suppose the best word would be 'completed.' She had completed his joy, in a way that made all three of them almost incandescent in the visible spectrum.

Even Neyla, who had once very nearly shot me to death, had become best described as a 'friend.' I couldn't think of any other appropriate word, at any rate. I didn't blame her for the way she had behaved that day... All is fair in war.

It was briefly jarring, as it sometimes abruptly would be at random moments, to watch three Gryphons snuggled into each others' feathers, and to feel such intense emotions of joy, and belonging, and...

Well. How about that.

And love.

After everything our two races had done to each other; A Changeling who loved Gryphons. Gryphons who loved that Changeling back.

Maybe they were right. Maybe there was a God after all. I'm not entirely sure Chrysalis would have accepted any other explanation, even if she should have seen the moment with her own eyes.

I had to choke back a real, honest, sort of amusement at the mental image of Chrysalis' reaction to seeing Gryphons and Changelings fight side by side.

Oh how I hoped I would get to see the look on her muzzle someday...

Fyrenn and Neyla were too busy alternately staring into the eyes each of the other, or sharing a laugh with others around the table, to notice my gaze. Alyra caught it, however, and the radiance of her smile was like the sun on your face after a lifetime of living in darkness.

I could not help but smile back. A smile not just of joy, but of warm, deep love, projected with the intent that the young Gryphon would receive it, and feel it, and know it.

I so rarely smiled like that... Perhaps that reservation was not something I should take so much pride in, after all.

The love I felt for Alyra, in particular, not quite like a younger sister, or a daughter, but close... And the love she clearly felt in return...

That had to be protected.

The hope that one day there would be thousands like us... Tens of thousands... More...

Maybe my kind would even live among them, and they us, along with the others....

That future *had* to be made to exist, and all that threatened it burned from the face of Equestria with fervor. I could see no other way forward that was worth pursuing in the slightest.

In spite of what had happened to Celestia, and in spite of the six new faces in the group, the conversation was initially dominated by talk of Fyrenn and Neyla's intention to be wed, and then talk of the decision Stan and I had made.

I sat in silence, Stan did most of the talking. As usual.

I did not begrudge him. Sometimes it was nice to be able to hold back my own thoughts, purely for the joy of having that option.

Not to mention the fact that, though I would never tell him to his face, I loved to hear him talk. His bluntness might have been construed as rudeness. Even I found it abrasive sometimes. But it was deeply refreshing in the context of a life spent inside the Hive; A person laying bare their thoughts and feelings and intent aloud, and honestly, and without reservation.

I felt the same 'completeness of joy' coming off of him that was radiating from Fyrenn, and Neyla. Saw it in the gleam behind his eyes. The perk of his ears. His coat almost seemed to be brighter, and more vibrant, ever so slightly.

Holding him close under one wing was a revelation of joyful physically driven emotion, and an unexpected advantage of my relatively larger, Alicorn-like size.

In the vein of Alicorns, Celestia looked as if she was drinking in as much energy, and vitality, from the group as I was.

Somehow all the talk of love, and emotional fetters at last unlocked, and boundaries broken, and conventions shattered, seemed to be restoring some deep metaphysical part of her soul that had been withering away under the noxious fumes of war, and political strife.

It was odd to see her both humbled, but also somehow revitalized. The physical signs of aging and exhaustion, that had been so readily apparent before she departed, were completely gone.

She was also clearly putting on a brave face to cover for the lingering of some considerably less positive emotions.

I couldn't discern the exact combination of fear for the future, regret for the past, and dysphoria with the present.

But I could guess.

It was at her hooves and horn that I'd been forced to *be* a one-form.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a small perverse satisfaction that she was now having to experience a small part of what she had done to me.

Merciful action or no, and though it had opened doors for me that otherwise would have remained shut fast, when she had locked me away from my natural powers it had been like losing a significant part of myself; Days and nights spend constantly straining to feel a piece of me that had always been there, and meeting only a strange, discomforting void.

For three years.

While death would not quite have been preferable, it certainly would have been much easier. And less painful. I knew dysphoria of the body like a wounded veteran knows an old familiar scar.

And so more than the tickle of satisfaction, I felt a flood of empathy.

I would not wish what had happened to me on Chrysalis herself.

Well... Perhaps on Chrysalis, on whom I wished the very fire of the Gryphons' 'Hell' every day, but no creature else that I could think of.

The Humans had fought what amounted to a war with the PER over the issue of the need to choose one's form, rather than have a form foisted upon them. They were right to spill blood unashamedly in defense of that freedom. If you asked me, I would have told you they had not gone nearly far enough in reprisal.

Had I the forces to spare, even in the slightest, I would have pledged warriors of my own to help exterminate the PER, based on principle alone.

I'd suffered that self-same violation, and escaped, by some miracle. I knew what it was like; Better to see any who would perpetuate that horror so callously laid dead in savaged bleeding heaps, than to risk the propagation of their unthinkable acts for the sake of 'diplomacy.'

Yet another point in which my Hive was in total agreement with Gryphon-kind.

And yet another point of contention I felt towards Celestia.

She had spared her own nephew's life, though he had abused royal privilege to help the PER force their will on countless Humans.

I would have cut off his head.

In public.

But perhaps that was as much the old Hive talking, as my own rage. Chrysalis ruled through fear, and by merciless examples made of any who put so much as a fleck of chitin out of line.

We could no more afford to descend that dark path, than the one of acquiescence and political convenience that the Equestrians had walked for so long.

Plenty of blame for atrocities to go around.

I'd come so very close myself to the precipice of so many poor decisions...

My gaze shifted from Celestia to her sister, almost as if by direct mental association to the thread of concept.

There was a Pony who understood regret. She did an excellent job of passing for stable to those around her, even her sister... But to an empath, she was like a singularity of sadness, regret, recrimination, and fear.

It cycled off her in regular waves that were overwhelming to me when not suppressed by a strong atmosphere of other, more positive feelings, like the ones in the kitchen that night.

So I'd done my best to avoid spending too much time with her. It wasn't personal; She was simply physically painful, and draining, for any of my kind to be around without the presence of others to anchor and redirect her emotional state.

How she was coping, I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

I'd known constant fear, and pain, in the Hive.

Like many Drones, I'd even had flirtations with the idea of ending my own life to escape the horror.

The fact that she was still standing, taking strides forward, and even fooling everyone else into thinking she was completely unassailable, and calm...

That spoke to an inner strength I could only envy, and hope to one day half-emulate, at best.

If anyone at the table could muster equivalent strength to Luna, it would have been Skye.

I did not know what had happened to her exactly, but I intended to find out; The sorrow that she felt was so intense that it seemed to come from deep within the marrow of her bones. She, like Luna, was hiding it, perhaps even coping, exceptionally well.

But there was a darkness there that I recognized. Intimately.

When I had first met Skye, I'd hated her almost as much as I'd once hated Stan.

Had I not found such a deep, and unexpected love, and connection with Stan, I suspect I would have instead found it with Skye. As physically attractive as my mate-to-be was, Skye was certainly... Moreso, in her own unique way.

That was a door, however, that I knew for certain to be closed. From both sides.

Many in my Hive had taken to complex, free-form, multiparty relationships, not dissimilar to Pony herds. The depth of unique connection to many beings at once was second nature to most.

But some, myself included, had felt an inexplicable magnetism to exclusivity in our deeper relationships. My best theory was that we were just contrarian; We had been forced to partake in group intimacy our whole lives.

We wanted something different, as much to prove that we had a choice, as anything else.

And then there was Skye's own recalcitrance.

I'd caught a glimpse of it when we shared minds to infiltrate the Hive. Later, looking out for it, I'd noticed it whenever she was close to Varan... And to me.

An odd blend of emotions denied, sorrow, then acceptance, and finally peace.

The cycle spun itself out with some frequency, and by and by I had come to realize that, in the same way as my own desire for exclusivity in romance, her total aversion to it was a coping mechanism in its own right.

That begged many questions, chiefly among them to wonder what trauma it was she had suffered in her past that had closed that door forever in her heart.

She too caught my gaze, and I left her with a fleeting glance of mixed inquisitiveness, and empathy, and even a little openness. I hoped she would follow up soon. I hated initiating conversation.

I never knew how to begin. I just could not seem to master that particular skill.

Another consequence of being Hive-spawned.

I noted with some amusement that she had positioned herself between Fyrenn, and one of the new faces in the room.

Taranis. The name spoke aptly of thunder. Power. Strength.

It was immediately apparent why Fyrenn, for I had no doubt it had been Fyrenn, had asked the Dragon to join the group. Aside from his peak physical condition, and warrior's bearing, there was a powerful sense of experience, stability, calm, wisdom, and intelligence to Taranis.

Most Dragons of a certain age exuded those qualities, but the particular flavor of his emotions spoke to someone who I suspected would get along not only very well with Skye, and Varan, but myself as well.

Once more, I cursed my lack of skill at making a beginning. Perhaps I could provide an opportunity for Fyrenn or Skye to more directly introduce us, and that might help.

As far as the other newcomers, I knew who Hutchinson and Aston were by reputation. All of the Gryphons spoke often enough of them, and highly enough, that I had no trouble reconciling the visibly apparent depth of their emotional connection to each other, and to the rest of the group.

I knew in time they would begin conversations with me, without the need for any prodding; Gryphon curiosity is almost as potent as Human curiosity. Gryphon converts are usually curious far past the point of propriety.

They had doubtless heard of me as well. They would come to me, I needn't go to them. That was a relief; It was so much easier when the other person was the one making the beginning.

William, Shierel, and Miles were more of a mystery, but not an overly complicated one. Though certainly very distinct in their relationships, and personalities, they had a combined energy quite akin to that of Fyrenn, Neyla, and Alyra.

From snippets of conversation, bearing, and emotional signatures, along with a little deduction, it was easy to conclude that William and Miles were Converts, while Shierel was a native.

She kept eyeing me like I was... Not quite a threat, or an enemy... But not a friend either.

At least, not yet.

In Miles I felt the same melange of loss as in Alyra, but much more readily because he was a Pony. And much more raw... He was not as far in his journey to peace as Alyra. Not by half.

William just seemed overwhelmed. And perhaps unsure of himself. I could readily empathize with that.

Fyrenn had felt somewhat similar when I first met him. I'd struggled with those same emotions.

Still struggled with them, if I was being brutally honest with myself.

We were both in good company for winning that struggle.

The other four occupants of the room were all universally awash in positive feelings, caught up thoroughly in sharing the joys of reunion, and happy news.

Sildinar and Shining Armor were royalty both; Like everyone they understood that darker topics of discussion would be forthcoming in the morning. And more so than all the others, with the exception of Luna, and Fyrenn who seemed to be similarly minded, there was an electrically charged undercurrent of anticipation from them.

Kephic and Varan were so overwhelmed with joy for their brother that nothing else had even a feather's breadth of room to take root in their hearts, at least for that one warm moment.

Eighteen people, counting myself, was a large crowd for me. Another consequence of my particular reaction to freedom. I hated crowds. But with this group...

It wasn't comfortable...

But it was bearable.

And worth bearing.

Like lowering oneself into a scalding hot saltwater bath to ease bruises, cuts, aches, and pains. The shock would pass, and though one could not stand the heat and salt forever, for a time it would provide rejuvenation, and peace.

I rested my head atop Stan's, breathed deep, and put as much of a stop to time as I could.

The moment was special; Too much of my life had been spent living out horrors I wished I could forget. Though most of my life was now much more happily worth remembering, some moments truly stood out.

This moment?

The first time I felt as if I had a full, complete family?

I deeply wanted to remember.

Fyrenn

That 'evening tea' stretched on well past the point of 'evening' and deep into a night-time second dinner, and more tea, and a snack after that.

I don't think there was a single one of us that wanted it to end.

Half because it was so special for all of us to finally be together in the same room, all linked together by various connections of friendship and family ties...

But also half because everyone knew exactly what kind of soul crushing practical discussions morning would soon bring. The matter of revealing Celestia's condition to her people. The sharing of all information about the Nightmare, from both sides of the Barrier.

Dealing with more political fallout from the new Gryphon/Changeling alliance, and the expected Changeling/Equestrian alliance.

The first full meeting of the Council of War that Luna had called.

We were going to be equal parts buried in politics, and tactics.

Who could begrudge us one night to forget it all, and be happy together?

Even IJ seemed truly happy. I wondered how rare that state was for her. Hoped that it would be increasingly common the more time she spent with Stan.

With all of us, if I had my way.

In so many ways, it was like a cozier prequel to the fulfillment of my vision... The strangest little clan to ever walk the surface of Equestria.

Of all those at the table, Bill and Miles seemed most withdrawn. That made sense. Apparently Shierel had once made Neyla's acquaintance, and she was intimately familiar with Equestrian life in general.

To Father, and Son, the whole of the world was new again. It was one thing to be a Gryphon, or a Pony. It was another thing entirely to experience Equestria with those heightened senses for the first time.

The food alone was mind boggling, let alone sights, smells... Just the feeling of a world that had life in it beyond the Human, and the microbial.

Taking all that in, together with such an emotional social situation... I knew from experience that they would both want to sleep in, and avoid large groups for several days at least.

But I could see their wonderment. And even contentment.

They knew as much as I did that the right choice had been made.

I kept glancing to Skye, and to Celestia, to see if either were in danger of spiraling into recriminations, or depressive thoughts... But they seemed to be some of the loudest, happiest voices at the table.

Perhaps a touch of overcompensation. Overkill is better than underkill any day of the week... But I made a mental note to keep close tabs on Skye especially. Celestia was Luna's sister. Skye was mine.

I knew Luna would look after Celestia in ways I simply could not... I didn't have the benefit of centuries of familial connection with her.

As to Skye... We'd see to official family ties soon enough.

Luna had mentioned that the King and Queen were arriving the next day to participate in the War Council. That would give me an opening to talk about family ties, wedding arrangements, and perhaps much more.

As much as I dreaded the political maneuverings to come... I was excited to make a start on the next part of my plan. There was so much for us all to fight for... I'd be damned if I was going to lie down quietly and take extinction on the chin.

To hell with that.

Too much to live for now.

Too many possibilities...

As the fourteenth rolled over into the fifteenth, Celestia, Luna, Sildinar, and Shining Armor politely took their leave to find some much needed rest. We'd all be forced to follow suit soon enough.

But no one else moved to join them for a moment, and I recognized an opportunity.

I gripped my tankard tightly, allowing the heat of freshly poured coffee to seep through into my claws as I inhaled deeply, and rose to my hind legs.

All thirteen pairs of eyes snapped to me, and I reflexively reached out with one claw towards Neyla. She took it in one of hers, and squeezed firmly.

Dear God in Heaven... How did I ever survive without that before?

"My friends... And my family. It has been a long road, for each of us, to end up here in this room. Together. And we have a long way to go if we are going to make it through to a day when we don't have to think of war, and survival, with every sunrise."

I spent several seconds locking eyes with each of them before continuing, ending at last with Alyra, and then Neyla, who returned my smile with the kind of expression that makes a heart melt into a puddle of bliss.

"Kephic, Varan, Alyra, and I already share not just an immediate family tie, but a clan. Kh'yn'eos. It means 'battle-brothers.' "

I returned my eyes to first Kephic's, and then Varan's. I'd not had much chance to discuss what I was about to propose with them. Their potential reaction made me more nervous than anything... They'd built the clan, a clan of two at first, from the assets of the ruins of their former families.

Though they had no claim to land, the name certainly carried some reputation with it. And more than a little sentimentality.

They both smiled, and nodded to me. They'd certainly heard some of Neyla's dreams before. And mine. It wasn't a terribly difficult leap to intuit what I was about to say. The genuineness of their support, so visibly apparent in the warmth of their smiles... Even Varan's...

I had to fight back a few tears as I stumbled a little through my next words.

"Now? We are more than just brothers. We are Sisters. Fathers. Mothers. Sons and Daughters. Friends. Soon more of us will share a direct family tie. But whether bonded as siblings, mates, or parent and child... I want to encompass that together with our friendships as well."

Neyla squeezed my claw again, and I couldn't help myself; I smiled, and the warmth in my chest rose to meet my voice, lending it strength, and surety.

"I want us all... Every one of us in this room... The old friends, and the new... To be one clan."

I swept my eyes across each one again, swiftly, before making the leap to the more ambitious point. The loftier goal.

"I want us to be the start of something better for this world. For our children. For all that come after. A clan without borders. Someday soon? A nation. A place where we can put to work eons of lessons from this world, and from Earth, to make a better place for all. Free of old preconceived ways of doing things."

Now I was getting nods and smiles all around. Even Taranis had inclined his head, though precisely what that meant, I wasn't entirely sure.

I steeled myself and forged ahead to the final point. The one that would land so well with most in the room, but would probably raise at least a few eyebrows with others.

"And within that clan? I want us all to be one family. No matter how large our endeavour grows... I want us to stay together. To fight together... To live together... To work to make the world better for all. Together. To love, and laugh... And enjoy life. Together."

That brought about a bit of a pause. I knew that didn't necessarily mean anything negative, but it put my heart right up into my throat. I gave everyone a few moments to process the weight of what I'd said, before I pressed on, looking first to Tarnais, then to Sheirel, Miles, and finally Bill.

"Some of you I've known for years. Others for just days. Some of you are connected to my family already through close bonds... Some of you are new friends to us all. And for you? This will be a big change. But one of the most wonderful things about life is that we can *choose.* We can choose to work actively to be friends. To be family. To make good of something new."

I glanced right at Varan and Kephic, and inclined my head to them. Their smiles told me everything I needed to know. But I knew what I had to say so that the moment would sit right in everyone's minds in future.

"I know this represents a different kind of change for some of us. I'm asking my brothers to merge clan, and family, with something unexpected. Something different. So we're not going to do this unless first they agree... And then everyone else in this room. Every last one."

I nodded once, gestured expansively with both claws, and then sat back to my haunches with a deep sigh. It felt good to have the dream given form with words to others; An idea born of so much talk with Neyla and Alyra on cold winter nights, and of a vivid vision, in the heat of battle.

Alive, and kicking, at last.

The question now being... Would it live to see the world beyond that small, cozy staff kitchen in the basement of Canterlot Castle?

To my surprise, Varan shared a 'Me first?' glance with Kephic, and then rose to speak. He very rarely took the lead in matters of spoken word.

"Fyrenn... We have shared much with you these past years. Battle, and wounds. Struggles, and victories. Hopes... And dreams. Most importantly, I think, we have shared friendships and family ties. Through you, we have become connected to others in very unexpected ways. And ways most welcome at that..."

It was the golden Gryphon's turn to pierce each of us with his eyes, ending at last on Kephic as he completed the course of his thoughts. The tone of Varan's voice left no room for question, or misinterpretation.

"Like most of you, Kephic and I have suffered much loss. Indeed, I do not believe there is a single one of the fourteen in this room who can not point to at least one serious loss of family in their past. But here we all sit... A product, more than anything... More than loss... More than pain... Of the love we have for each other. We can think of no better way to honor that love... To move forward into the future with you. With you *all.* We would both see this dream take flight, and gladly."

Kephic smirked, and his right ear twitched in amusement as Varan shot him a 'your turn' expression. The speckled Gryphon threw up his claws, and shrugged.

"How am I supposed to top that brother? What else could I even say?"

Varan raised an eyebrow, and a tiny smile tugged at one corner of his beak as he resumed his seat, his response delivered with all his usual, magnificent deadpan.

"Nothing. You were not meant to 'top it.'"

Skye grinned outright, and gave Varan a mock punch in the shoulder. The depth of warmth in the smile he returned to her, as she spoke, said more than any further words ever could have on his part.

"You know I'm in. It took me three years to screw up the courage to ask. I can't imagine ever feeling like I properly belong anywhere else. With anyone else. No one else in either world is weird enough to handle me."

I couldn't resist a chuckle. I turned my gaze to Neyla, and she reached out not entirely unexpectedly to plant a soft kiss on my cheek before speaking.

"I dreamt for many, many years of a clan of my own. I never dared to dream that I might find, within that, a mate. A family. Until I met you. You have made all of my life... Every aspect of it... Better. Including my dreams. *Our* dreams. I want to make those dreams real."

Alyra wormed her way up between us, pressing between our chests, and tucking her head into my neck as she chimed in.

"We're already family. We're just making it official... And inviting a few new friends. Life is nothing without family. I'm so grateful to have this one!"

I ruffled her crest with one claw, and hugged her close with the muscles of my neck, looking up to Hutch, and Aston next. I could see them both fighting tears. Hutch more than any of us.

He shared a loving glance with Aston, before she spoke for them both.

"Not every soldier gets to stick with the family they make in the trenches. Hutch and I are lucky to have you all. We'd be honored."

The expression Hutch gave me threatened to make his silent tears very, very infectious. I inclined my head, and shifted my eyes to Stan, and IJ.

Stan smiled eagerly, then caught himself, and shared a nervous questioning look with IJ. To my surprise, but bemusement, her gaze was firm. Her mind was made up... But in what way?

He opened his mouth to speak, but she laid one glistening pearlescent hoof against his muzzle, and then turned to face me.

"I know Stanley will say 'yes.' He is as much a brother to you, and yours, as Kephic or Varan. For my part? I have never had a family before. I was spawned, and raised, in a command hierarchy. Until we crossed paths? I would have readily slain any of you on sight, without particularly questioning the motive behind that action."

Her face softened to a tenderness that I'd only very, very rarely glimpsed on her muzzle before. And almost always in regards to Stan. I felt in that moment that I knew her heart, but her next words brought a great deal of relief nonetheless.

"You each have taught me much about friendship. And about family. If my people are to have a future? It must be a part of the one you envision for this world. Anything else will leave us less than free. And as for me, in particular? I would be... Gratified. To have a family."

I nodded slowly, taking in a great deal more emotion from her muzzle, and ears, than her words. 'Gratified' was one of those understatements she liked to make bluntly when she was trying to hold back more effusive language, for the sake of appearing staid.

We both knew that deep down, she was probably questioning just how in the world she had ended up here, in such an unearned place of joy, and connection. But family isn't something you earn. It is given mutually, and unconditionally as a gift.

And we both knew that too, whether she could have said as much in concrete words, or not.

At last we came to the four who would be least certain of all. Taranis rumbled deep in his chest, and tapped his front right claws on the table in sequence, before speaking after what seemed like an interminable eternity.

"I remain... Undecided. As to the question of clan. I can not pledge myself to a flag, nor cause, without more time spent at the side of those who helm it, seeing them as they truly are in the crucible of war."

He raised one claw, and tilted his head slightly as a new inflection entered his words. My breath caught in my throat.

"But. I think, with time, I will find myself quite amenable to your cause. If I were made to guess? I would say that I will much more likely find myself saying yes, than no. As to the question of family, however..."

He shared a quick smile with Hutch, and I felt my heart stop alongside my breath.

"...As to the question of family? I have been without family for a very long time. And... I too would very much like to end that loneliness. Hutch and I are brothers forged in fire. That is reason enough. Let alone that I, thus far, have found each and every one of you to be honest, true, and brave. There is no need to give extended contemplation to that invitation. Why not make official that which is already true, in at least one way?"

My heart started back up. But not my breathing. My eyes finally came to rest on William, and his family.

I could only imagine the rush of thought, and emotions going through their heads. It was an educated imagining... It had been like a tidal wave of joy, and love... But also stress, and anxiety when Kephic and Varan had asked me into their family.

The trick, as I'd learned, was to let love be the guidestone. Push all else away. Think of the joy of the future. Not the fears of the present, or the pain of the past.

I wanted to say it all to them. Especially to Bill. To explain everything I knew, and remembered, about being in exactly his position; Frightened, and walled off... Afraid of failing a test that wasn't a test at all.

All I could do was give the most inviting, hopeful expression I could muster, and hope that it was enough.

He shared a long, deep look with Shierel. I could tell that just as much was passing back and forth between them, in that moment, as Neyla and I regularly seemed to be able to silently share between us.

The exact emotional content of that unspoken conversation was completely inscrutable.

Finally, they both looked down at Miles. He stared up at them for a moment, then stole a quick glance at Alyra, who smiled at him as warmly, and kindly, as she'd ever smiled in her life.

I saw something click in Miles' expression. A connection I'd almost prophetically hoped... *Known* would be made...

That moment of connection was readily visible to Shierel and William as well. And I could see the acceptance on their faces, perhaps more so on Shierel's.... But it was enough.

It was a start.

I thought she might speak for them, but it was Bill who opened his beak, haltingly at first, then with increased conviction as the truth sank in for him as much as for the rest of us.

"You... Are all just like us... You've been so alone before... So empty... You know what that's like. And yet you're all so welcoming... So open... How could we say no? You freely offer so much love... Miles needs that love. We all... *I* need that connection..."

He'd been staring at the floor for the back half of his fragmented response. I rose, and made my way around the table to him, offering Shierel a quick smile, and nod, before placing one claw on Bill's shoulder.

When he looked up, his eyes were full of tears.

I didn't know him all that well, at that moment... But I didn't need to. I knew him well enough to know that I wanted to share the joy I'd found in family with him, and his mate, and their son.

Throwing caution to the wind, I pulled him into a quick hug. Shorter than I was used to, but I needed to make concessions to his fear still. Patience would win out in the end where fear could not. I'd been on the receiving end of that before.

As I released him from the brief embrace he nodded, half-smiled, and began wiping the tears from his eyes with the feathers of his left wing.

I raised my tankard above the center of the table, and looked each one of them in the eye again as they caught on, and took up glasses, cups, and mugs, pressing them together one by one, until in the end we all stood together.

"To family."

My family.

Thank God.

It was good to be home.

Chapter 30

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Alyra

I know Dad didn't mean to wake me so early, but I was teetering on the threshold of 'too tired to sleep well.' It wasn't the motion of him getting up, so much as an unconscious realization that the protective canopy of his wing was gone.

It wasn't an uncomfortable jolt into wakefulness... More like a steady, gentle climb from deep sleep to that strange energized clarity of waking in time to your internal rhythms at an odd hour.

I knew it was still early. The stars were out. Dad was sitting on the balcony of our guest room, eyes fixed on the sky. I smiled, and quietly rose, stretched, and then leapt down from the bed to join him.

He sighed, and placed one wing around me as I nestled into his side, and turned my eyes up to the heavens. I think out of us all, he and I loved the stars most. Because we'd spent so long without them. Been born without them. Wondered plenty of nights of our lives whether we would ever see a real clear sky.

Dad signed again, and shook his head, murmuring in a low, comforting voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

I pressed my head in closer to his side, closed my eyes for a moment, and danced on the edge of sleep before looking up to the sky again, and matching his quiet timbre.

"It's ok. I like watching the stars with you."

We sat together like that for a good while. I didn't bother to count the minutes. I didn't want to. There is something to be said for living moments of your life outside the confines of the clock.

Instead I counted red stars. Seven thousand four hundred and twenty three from our vantage point, at that exact time of year, with Gryphon eyes. I was about to switch to counting blue ones, when Dad spoke up again.

"You know... This will be one of our last nights with just the two of us. At least, one of the last nights where it's the norm."

I smiled up at him, and nodded.

"I know! I'll be glad to have Mom with us."

My gaze fell, and I spent a few moments examining the sharp outline of the mountains against the horizon, shaking my head slowly in awe. I didn't realize I'd said what I was thinking out loud until Dad pulled me closer to his side in response.

"...I never thought... Never even dreamed... That I would have a Father, *and* a Mother... Sometimes it still feels like... I don't deserve it... Like it can't be real... Like I shouldn't have been the one who survived."

He began to gently preen my head crest as he mulled the words over, before bringing his head down and looking me directly in the eyes.

"We do not get to know what the future might have been. There is one reality. One present. I am... Indescribably grateful that you are in my present, and my future. And I know that Sonya is too. She may have no way to say so to you right now... But I know how much she loves you. And so I know she is proud of the person you have become. Just like I am. And your Mother is."

His smile widened, and he brushed my cheek gently with one talon.

"Martins told me about what you did. For your birth-father. That was the action of a kind, noble, wise-hearted young woman. With far more patience, and forgiveness, and love than I think I could ever muster. And I saw you talking with Miles as well... Comforting him. Whether or not you realize that's what you were doing..."

He shifted his eyes back to the sky, giving me a moment to process what he'd said, before adding the rest of his adjacent thoughts.

"Miles has lost a lot. And it seems like you have some interests in common, if the little snippets of talk I caught are anything to go by. Thank you for reaching out to him. You both could stand to have at least one friend your own age."

I balled up a claw and punched him lightly in the side.

"Daaad! I'm *fine.* You can't rush these things."

He rolled his eyes, and swatted me ever so lightly across the bridge of my beak with his tail fan; More of a brush with the end of a duster than anything else.

"You are your mother's daughter."

Something about the way he so casually wove deadpan humor, and genuine compliment, and a reference to Neyla as 'Mother,' and me as 'Daughter' into one short pithy sentence, lit off a warm fuzzy comforting feeling in all my bones.

I nuzzled my head into his side again, and we had a few more minutes of quiet before he lifted his wing, turned fully around to sit across from me, and lay down to rest his head on folded forelegs, putting his eyeline beneath mine, and looking up at me inquisitively.

"While we're alone... I want to ask you to be completely, totally honest with me. Do you have any worries, or knots in your stomach, or reservations, or fears, no matter how slight, about Neyla becoming your Mother?"

I dropped to a similar lying-down posture, and touched my beak to the end of his, before shaking my head adamantly. I didn't need to even consider that for half a second. I'd spent so many sleepless nights thinking about Neyla. So many hours together with her, sometimes with Dad, sometimes with the others, sometimes just the two of us...

And every heart-beat of every second I'd spent with her, from that first moment I'd opened my eyes to her in the Conversion Bureau... Even before I had my feathers... One single thought, one single word, had been my very breath around her.

'Mother.'

I knew my voice projected my surety as much as my expression must have.

"My only fear was that this day would never come. I wish the wedding was today."

He grinned, and nuzzled me back before responding.

"Who knows? Maybe we will just do it quietly this afternoon. I have to talk a little more with her about what she wants... But we both used the words 'small,' quiet,' and 'intimate.' If not today, then tomorrow."

After a second of smiling, and shaking his head to the tune of his own internal thoughts, Dad shifted around again to put one wing over me, lying side by side with me on the cool stone of the balcony.

"Three weddings in one week span. And a new clan. If we could win on the power of love alone, we would be able to annihilate our enemy by sunrise."

I closed my eyes and curled up fully under his wing as the urge to get a little more sleep finally became just that little bit too insistent. As I drifted off, I forced out my response through a yawn.

"Who knows Dad? The power of love is a curious thing."

Fyrenn

For once in my life, I managed to banish insomnia and get back to sleep for a few hours.

That was a rare thing for me.

I hadn't wanted to tell Alyra that it was visions of Sonya that woke me initially.

Skye insisted that she had destroyed the Nightmare's ability to reflect my anxieties into my dreams... Somehow that knowledge just made Sonya's continued appearance in my somnolent mind that much worse.

Not that I was ungrateful.

My visions of Sonya weren't so much nightmares themselves, as the kind of dream more likely to leave tears in your eyes on waking, rather than a racing heart and terror sweat.

The gut wrenching imagery of Veritas' words wrapped up in Neyla's form? Or, occasionally, the shapes of other friends and family? Those were gone for good.

And to Hell with them.

I'd thanked her more than once already, but I made a mental note to go on thanking Skye for what she'd done as long as I lived. People who say 'sleep is for the weak' are either just being funny for a variety of reasons, or stupid beyond description.

Few people understand what true chronic sleep deprivation is like. Soldiers. Insomniacs.

I was both.

When you've only had five hours of good quality sleep inside a seven day period, your mind starts to shit bricks. Gryphons can stretch the margins longer, and more functionally, especially if we eat a healthy diet overall, stay hydrated, and have continuous supplementary protein intake.

But even that has its limits.

For a few weeks during the early part of the winter, I'd been worried I might actually hurt myself because of my exhaustion. I'd called out from the forge more than once just for safety's sake.

Grogginess and white hot liquid metal do not mix well.

The choice to put faith ahead of fear had changed everything, even in such a short time, and under such stressful conditions. With each new personal victory, the nights were becoming more restful and consistent.

Alyra was right.

Why not just quit waiting around, and tie the knot?

That was the thought that was fixed in my mind as it went from sleeping to waking again under the first searching gold fingers of the morning sun.

When I rose to stretch, first my front legs, then wings, neck, and finally my back legs, Alyra yawned, and then mimicked the almost ritualistic routine.

I gestured towards the door with my head, and grinned.

"C'mon. Let's go ask your Mother about wedding arrangements."

My claw was an inch from the room's ornate golden door handle when a loud knock rang out from the other side of the whitewashed oaken slab. I recognized the distinctive sound signature of a hoof.

Raising an eyebrow, I pulled the door open, and was nearly promptly run over by Celestia as she pranced into the room, an enormous silver and golden tray balanced in her magical field, laden down with hot haycakes, donuts, fresh bread, and fruits.

Neyla followed behind, an enormous carafe of tea in one claw, and four mugs, three Gryphon-sized, one Pony-sized, in the other. Her expression was fascinating; At once amused, befuddled, and impressed with Celestia's intense energy, and purposeful gait.

Wordlessly, the Alicorn began to lay out breakfast for the four of us as I traded a confused glance first with Neyla, then Alyra, then Neyla again.

Celestia finally seated herself, and gestured expansively with one hoof, smirking as she began to pour tea for each of us, ending with her own cup, which she lifted for a sip, before speaking at last.

"I wanted to catch you all before the day started in earnest. A good hot meal is an excellent foundation for a good day. And I learned long ago that bringing hearty food in one hoof is best if you are bringing a request in the other."

Alyra suppressed a slight giggle. I shook my head, sighed, and downed a long draught of tea before exchanging another glance with Neyla. The cant of her ears seemed to say 'go ahead', so I put forth the question on behalf of us all.

"A request? And one that had to be asked early, and over donuts at that?"

I narrowed my eyes, and flicked one ear forward.

"Why do I get the feeling we're about to be drafted?"

Celestia made no effort to hide her smile. She took another sip, a surprisingly ravenous bite of bread, and a third sip, before responding. I didn't like her tone one little bit. It had a definitive air of youthful, self-assured vigor that told me she felt whatever she was going to ask? She was going to get it.

"I wouldn't use the word 'drafted...' But I think your sentiment is close enough to the truth. I wanted to talk to you about the wedding arrangements."

She held up a hoof, closing her eyes, and waggling her head as she pre-empted my objections in a calm, firm tone. I'd sucked in a breath through my beak so hard it had almost whistled across the sharp edges.

"I understand that you have, in all likelihood, decided to have a small, quiet, minimal ceremony. A family affair, nothing more. And I understand why that would be your first instinct, and your first choice..."

Celestia gently placed her cup down on the table, opened her eyes, and spread her wings ever so slightly, voice rising an octave, trying her damndest to be persuasive in both tone, and expression.

"...But matrimonial ceremony in most cultures, all of ours included, is observed as much for the benefit of the attendees as for the benefit of the ones making vows."

Ah. There it was. Ever the peacemaker, and political strategist. She wanted us to put on a display so her Ponies could be exposed to a different culture. Admirable. But I was going to do my best to disappoint her. I didn't want the adoration, or admiration, or even the interest of large crowds.

I just wanted to marry Neyla, kill the Nightmare, and then go home with my wife and daughter, to our new clan, to start the process of building that better future we were all dreaming of. That we were all yearning for.

I held up a claw and shook my head, inclining it slightly, and trying to be as polite as I could in my refusal.

"Princess... There will be plenty of other chances for Canterlot to see a Gryphon wedding---"

Her interruption surprised me. It was quiet, and gentle, but at the same time extremely forceful. In the snap of a claw her visage hardened to one of remorse, mixed with the same surety as before. And a small hint of buried fear.

"Will there? And... Even if there are... There will almost certainly never be one quite so opportune in timing."

The way she had broached the question of our survival hung in the air like aerosolized steel. Just when the silence was on the verge of becoming truly uncomfortable, she moved to press her advantage.

"This kingdom... This city... Will soon face war. The bloodiest, most horrific conflict in living memory. Twice in one month my little Ponies have very nearly lost one of their Princesses. Even now the rumors of how much I am... Diminished... Are spreading like a cancer throughout the kingdom. Fear... Insidious, and strong as ironroot, and fast growing as a disease... Is not far behind."

Celestia rose, and moved slowly to the balcony, staring down at the city for a moment, before cinching her thesis quietly. Almost forlornly.

"Whether Guard, or Cobbler, Baker, or Farrier... Many of those living here will be forced to fight. Every last one will suffer loss in some way. They are not sufficient to the task in their own strength alone. They need hope. They need something to find joy in, to cast out the fear. And they need to be reminded of the value of Unity, and Harmony... Because soon they will be sharing trenches, and towers, and foxholes with all sorts."

She turned back to face us then, piercing us each in turn with a steady, heartfelt gaze.

"They *need* to see the joy you have in your love, as a family. To see Gryphon wed to Gryphon. Changeling to Pony. And Ponies, Dragon, and Changeling taken as brothers and sisters to Gryphons, and to each other. Your family is everything we hope for. Everything we must aspire to be."

She returned her gaze to me. Her large violet eyes were drowning in regret, and fear, and sorrow. But over it all, a hard glassy film of conviction that carried through to her words. And of hope.

" 'I'll be ready and willing.' That was the promise you made to me, not so very long ago. You wanted to know what you could do to help matters, in a diplomatic sense. Well? This is your best opportunity. Declare your love publicly. Bask in the light of the trappings of a royal wedding, and family joining. Not for yourselves... But for *them.* For every old salt that may yet lay down their lives in this war. For every eager yearling that may live to see a better world after. For the snobs who need an object lesson. For the curious, who need only an open door. You can make a stand on the battlefield of hearts too. And I promise you, it will be worth it."

Well.

Shit.

I traded long, significant looks with Alyra, and Neyla both. Their expressions conveyed the exact same turbid mix of emotions and thoughts I was feeling. How could we very well refuse after an argument like that?

All is fair in love. And War.

I looked back down at Alyra, and raised one eye crest. She nodded. I looked up to see Neyla's beak and ears already fixed with an affirmation. But she nodded once firmly nonetheless.

I sighed deeply, and shrugged with my wings.

"Apparently breakfast can be an exceedingly dangerous weapon, in the right hooves. How can we possibly say no?"

She smiled, and nodded. The pink of her mane almost seemed to glow as I sensed joy wash over her. And relief.

The Princess moved back to the table, and sat on her haunches, lifting her cup again as her chipper demeanor returned like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"Well then. Shall we finish this lovely breakfast, and then make ready to meet your King and Queen? There is much to arrange if we are going to manage to carry off so much pomp and ceremony successfully tomorrow."

I physically could not prevent myself from spewing my tea all over the drapes. Mercifully I managed to miss Celestia's mane. For the most part.

Neyla and I shouted the same word, at the same time, in the exact same key. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so hilarious.

"TOMORROW?!"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 15th, Gregorian Calendar

"This is... A staggering amount to take in. Who else have you shared this with?"

Councilor Xaelus made a conscious effort to restrain himself. Nevertheless, he reflexively leaned forward over the desk in anticipation.

The lighting of the spartan office space automatically began a gradual ramp up to return to normal as the bright flare of Thaumatic projection ended. Diffuse rays glistened off the spines of vintage books, the brass of an antique barometer, and the polished wood of pre-winnowing firearm stocks.

The Unicorn who had put on such an astonishing, and stomach turning display only moments before, rubbed one gray armor plating covered hoof absently against the back of the opposite front leg as she spoke.

"No one... I... I was never supposed to know this information. No one in the JRSF outside of the senior circle were to be read in. While I don't agree with the decision to keep this secret... I understand why they did. If the public ever learned about this...?"

Xaelus nodded, and held up a placating hand, scrunching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other hand. After he'd had a moment to shed some of his stress, he spoke again in a firm, surprisingly comforting tone.

"You did the right thing. It took courage to defy the decision of a Princess, and share this secret with the EarthGov. You may have just saved countless lives, both Human and Equestrian."

The Councilor rose, straightening his suit jacket reflexively, and gestured towards the office door.

"We'll need to arrange a formal deposition. Your identity will be safeguarded, of course, to protect you from reprisal. You'll also need to show my top analysts everything that you just showed me. This kind of threat demands an immediate response."

Xaelus dipped his head appreciatively towards the Unicorn, noting her small half-smile in response, and pulled the office door inwards. The Army Special Forces guards stationed on either side of the entryway pivoted to face the door, and snapped to attention.

The Councilor returned their salutes, and then gestured to the Unicorn.

"Take the lieutenant to the SCIF. Get her some food, some coffee, and I'll have an analytics team dispatched within the hour. No other visitors. She does not leave your sight at any time, and no one speaks to her, or so much as looks at her, without authenticated orders from me. Clear?"

The two armored soldiers saluted once again in perfect practiced tandem, and then took up protective detail positions, one ahead of the Unicorn, one behind.

Xaelus offered the young mare a parting smile, and nod, before stepping back into his office.

Alone, the Councilor felt no obligation to maintain a facade of professionalism.

What was the point?

He collapsed into his chair and cradled his head in one hand, struggling to take deep, slow breaths. The Councilor was no stranger to war. It's risks, pains, and fears.

But the sheer scale of what the young Unicorn JRSF lieutenant had told him dwarfed even the tension, and scope, of an all out war with the Equestrians.

A war, even a losing one, still left you options.

Slamming the door shut on your entire universe?

Leaving billions to die a slow, creeping, horrifying death, while escape sat tantalizingly close, yet impossibly far away?

Using a technology meant to buy Earth time, to instead trap its citizens in the path of a devastating energy field?

It was unthinkable.

Though the political climate was changing swiftly, it still was not friendly enough to a pro-Humanist view for Xaelus to admit his HLF sympathies openly on the Council.

The Councilor was less of a traditionalist, and more of a 'neo-realist Humanist.'

The old rallying cry was 'Humanus Pro Vita.' But remaining physically Human forever was, in Xaleus' opinion, a luxury only the Genesists could afford. Their achievements would give the Human form and culture a chance to survive, and thrive elsewhere.

For everyone left behind, the harsh reality had to be faced; Nothing was going to stop the Barrier.

Convert... Or die.

You could rail all you wanted at a hurricane. It would not stop to consider the 'fairness' of destroying you. Nor the tragedy of what might be lost. Nor the ethics of difficult choices.

You could either get the Hell out of the way, or die a moron.

Facing that truth, Xaelus had opted to follow his more pragmatically minded colleagues down the path of practicality. Accept the things you can't control. Redouble your efforts to control the rest.

Certainly the Archive Project talked a good game; Preserve all that Humanity knows, and all that they have created, for future generations.

Xaelus sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, shaking his head slowly.

Future generations who would live under the hooves of the same Equestrian monarchs that countless native generations had already been born, lived, and died under. Equestrian monarchs. Equestrian laws. Equestrian rules. Equestrian culture.

And all enforced with Human technology and science, married to Equestrian magic.

Humanity as a spiritual concept would be reduced to a fascinating museum piece.

Its proud culture left to languish as little more than an afternoon's amusing diversion for foals so thoroughly indoctrinated with Equestrian ideals, that they wouldn't even think of themselves as the children of Converts anymore.

As Humans, anymore.

By embracing the future in Equestria, Xaelus had hoped that Converts might control the future. A future rooted in Human ideals and beliefs.

The non-Pony Conversion programs had been a source of great hope to many in the HLF, Xaelus included. Though the hostility from the upper command structure towards acceptance of that sentiment had been intense right up until they had very nearly accidentally killed everyone in both universes.

Then all of the sudden it had become at minimum 'practically acceptable' to view Conversion, especially non-Pony Conversion, as a ray of hope for the future.

It helped that much of the previous Cabinet had been killed, in combat with the JRSF, or by their own subordinates as punishment for failure. Or by their own hand to avoid interrogation.

Nonetheless, everyone seemed to agree; The Gryphons were a total loss.

Their morality lock was even more troublesome than the Ponies' passivity instincts.

The latter could be overcome with sheer will, and careful exercise. The former was so strong that it would kill would-be Converts during the transformation process, if their will and self was truly incompatible with its utterly inescapable mandates.

On the other hand, every species since the Option Gamma program had been at worst a minimum viable alternative, and at best an ideal escape hatch.

Dragon Conversion was dangerous, but only to those of weak will. The process had no interest in one's moral affiliations, or political persuasions, merely one's raw strength of self, and self-control.

Diamond Dog serum was tricky, but the HLF had learned through careful experimentation that by pre-selecting candidates who would emerge as Alphas naturally, that it was possible to build a trained and disciplined pack wholecloth from scratch.

A pack that was based on Human Military ideals and behaviours.

Though the Zebra, Yak, and Buffalo were not quite as combat effective as canids or giant reptillianoids, they were still a physical force to be reckoned with. And while, like all Equestrians, they came with their own set of quirks and instincts, they were far better options than Ponies, for the aspiring future members of the burgeoning Equestrian branch of the Front.

An endeavour that would die on the vine if the flow of Converts suddenly and permanently ceased before the population metrics could stilt in their favor. Before mainstay HLF leadership could make the transition themselves.

Before any of their carefully prepared resource stockpiles could be smuggled across.

Xaelus drummed his fingers on the black granite slab of his desk absently, and then gently placed his thumb on the biometric denial pad at the top of the first drawer on the left.

The tray slid open to reveal a slab of closed cell foam that held a small unregistered laser pistol, an encrypted audio-only communications device, and a thick glass vial of greenish-teal sparkling substance, capped at one end by a hardened rubberized plastic thumb switch, and at the other end by a clear biophobic nylon sleeve perched atop a thick needle.

Project Loki.

The Councilor grinned, and brushed one hand gently over the vial. The HLF knew how to make Conversion Serum just as well as the Bureau Network did. The Military had been a crucial part of both the original Ponification tests, and of Option Gamma.

The damned Solar Monarch had her Gryphons to spring to her defense.

The EHLF would have Loki.

Xaelus allowed himself one last longing glance at the Conversion Serum syringe, before picking up the communications device, and placing it gently on the desk.

"Computer; Safe the room."

The lighting dropped several dozen lumens, and a loud magnetic click from the door mixed with a harsh tritone warble, and a much fainter high pitched thrum indicative of sonic disruption, intended to jam any listening devices.

Xaelus tapped in a quick alphanumeric string from memory on the comm device's keypad. After several moments of flashing yellow lights, a bright blue illumination bar told him that the connection had been made.

The voice on the other end barked out a single word.

"Albion."

The Councilor leaned over the device, and spoke the response to the challenge code in a clear, concise, sharp military cadence.

"Fuirich daonna ann an anam agus inntinn."

After a short pause, the voice on the other end of the line came back with a similar professional militaristic timbre.

"Cabinet-level authorization confirmed. What are your orders sir?"

Xaelus paused to reconsider the order one last time. The remainder of the cabinet might not take well to a unilateral action of such aggressive nature... But if what the little JRSF lieutenant had told him was true...

...And her proof had been most convincing...

...Then there was no time to waste.

The future of billions hung in the balance.

"Deploy Malakim."

The pause from the other end of the line was just long enough to strain Xaelus' patience, but not long enough for him to voice his exasperation.

"Yes sir. Target?"

It was Xaelus' turn to pause, if only very briefly, inhaling deeply to steel himself. There would be very serious repercussions for what he was about to do. Blowback that might even cost him his position, if not his life. He knew that.

But what other choice was there?

"Load target package for Medea contingency. Destroy the Barrier Retarder platforms."

The Unicorn told the EarthGov Military Intelligence officers everything she knew.

The forgeries on the solid state optical storage drives she had brought with her were impeccable. The Intelligence Officers even tested her magical replay of the fabricated conversations she had been party to against the best technology they had.

The not-quite-a-Unicorn lieutenant never flinched. The host screamed out repeatedly in an attempt to get a message through, but the Wisp nestled at the base of her horn had been there for over two years.

There wasn't even a flicker on the Humans' screens to indicate that the lieutenant was being anything but truthful.

Nothing in her recounting, her data drives, or her magical memory replay, gave the slightest hint that the entirety of the story was a fabrication of The Nightmare.

The highest level of the EarthGov military, and the HLF, primed by both fear, and carefully backstopped false intelligence seeded through multiple other covert methods, bought the whole story hook, line, and sinker.

The Wisp inside the Unicorn knew, because two dozen other infiltrators across the JRSF command structure knew precisely what to look for via their own intelligence gathering apparatus. They verified that the lie had taken root, and them promptly eliminated all evidence of the forthcoming attack.

The JRSF would be blind, deaf, and completely unaware.

The Nightmare did not particularly care which method the HLF used... The Dispossessed were aware of no less than five ways that the HLF could reasonably eliminate the Barrier Retarders in a first strike.

All they had needed was a good reason to accept the drastically shortened lifespan of the planet that would result.

Fear of being denied any form of escape, in totality, had certainly done the trick.

It helped that Nightmare had spent considerable resources swaying the HLF towards a more pragmatic, less physical-Human-form obsessed mentality in the aftermath of Ragnar.

The first iteration of the Front had served its purpose nicely, but there was no sense in allowing them to take unnecessary risks. They'd very nearly cost her everything with their half-baked attempt to control the Retarder Platforms themselves.

Nightmare had seen to it personally that every single surviving Cabinet member had died within three months for that misstep.

The new face of the HLF was one that cared more for authoritarian, 'Humanity first' ideals, agnostic of physical form. A much less risky, far more precise instrument for damaging the Alicorn's interests in both worlds.

Deep down, the host's mind knew what was going to happen next.

It rankled the Wisp that the inevitability granted her a kind of strange peace. The Wisp knew that it too would die when the moment inevitably came; There could be no risk that an attempt at escape at the last moment would grant the Host a split second to save herself, nor that the EarthGov Army's instruments might log something that would make them suspicious.

When the Army Special Forces trooper pressed the barrel of his laser sidearm to the back of the Unicorn's head, the Wisp made a perfunctory attempt at deflecting the blast.

A final pretense at self preservation, before the collimated light pierced a perfectly cauterized one inch diameter hole through the base of the mare's skull.

The Nightmare grinned to herself as she watched the strand of luminescence vanish from the Void.

Perfect.

Sildinar

I despised the vast majority of the finer trappings of royalty. It was a common Gryphic sentiment.

We appreciate ceremony, and pageantry, but not on behalf of rulers and commanders. Humility and approachability are worth far more in a leader than external perception of regal nature.

But there were a few things traditionally associated with royalty that I quite enjoyed.

One of them was seeing the High Guard in action.

Exceptionally skilled Paladins, one and all, the High Guard was only ever deployed as a special tasks force in time of war, or as protection for journeys of great diplomatic importance. Otherwise, its members served in a variety of other stations and capacities throughout the Kingdoms.

To see one alone, an outsider might not be able to discern the significance of their armor, and sigils, from any other Paladin. But on seeing them assembled in formation, it was impossible for even the uninitiated to misunderstand.

Our Warriors generally made and modified their armor to their own designs and needs, and thus also their own sense of aesthetics. The High Guard were no different, save that certain sigils, paints, and metallic finishes were expected to be standardized across their equipment.

The base coat of the armor was burnished alloy, further brushed to a dull finish, and then painted with a flat black coating. The trim was universally bronze, polished to a glossy finish, and then covered in a thin coating of matte red paint, lending it the same unique golden-red hue as our blood.

On the chest, and shoulder, any emblems of clan, family, or other allegiance could be worn. But on the joint of each wing, the symbol of the kingdom was universally affixed in brightly polished brass.

The actual patterning of the armor, and the weapons carried, were quite an eclectic mix, as one might expect with Gryphons. But the unified colors and finishes, and shared wing emblems, created a degree of symmetry and uniformity rarely seen in our wider forces.

Fifty strong, the guard approached from over the north-western ridge of Canterlot's mountain, the sun playing brilliantly off the emblems on their wings as the fifty pairs beat in perfect time across the elongated diamond formation.

In the center, my mother and father shone like small stars, their parade armor polished to brilliant finish; Silver alloy, red-gold bronze, and flecks of pure crystal.

Many cultures seemed to like to announce the arrival of military forces with horns. It was a staple of Pony, Human, Zebra, and Yak culture, I knew for a fact.

We Gryphons felt ourselves perfectly well enough endowed with the gift of our own throats.

The leading edge of the formation announced their arrival with a very particular sound; Fyrenn had once likened it to Human recordings of a Red Tailed Hawk. It was a high, clear, piercing, unmistakable note that brought fear to enemies; Respect from, and hope to, allies.

Given that it was coming from a dozen beaks at once, it was also very, very loud, even at range.

To their credit, none of the Canterlot Guards flinched. Not even so much as the reflexive twitch of an ear.

They held their perfect attention stance, a row of Day Guards to our right, and Night Guards to our left, lining the edges of the Castle's grand entrance walkway, banners bearing the emblems of both kingdoms snapping in the breeze above their heads.

Celestia, Luna, Shining Armor, and IJ stood beside me, the five of us forming a line abreast between the two rows of guards. Fyrenn, Neyla, Alyra, Skye, and Carradan, stood behind us in a similar parade lineup.

The first six High Guard flared to land in two rows facing towards us, alighting with the soft clank of alloy on stone.

My Mother and Father were next, marching forward in ceremonial lockstep as the remainder of the Guard fell into a walking phalanx behind them.

The formation moved up to meet us, my mother sharing a long, heartfelt embrace with me before even offering any formal greeting to Celestia or Luna. You can put a Gryphon in a crown, but you can not take the spirit of family from us. Not even for propriety's sake.

I pivoted my ears backwards as I returned the hug, listening as my father offered a more formal greeting to Celestia and Luna. As my mother smiled, and pulled away to tend to her own moment of duty, my father in turn found a moment to share a clasping of forelegs with me, and a warm smile.

Mercifully, formality more or less ceased for us at that point, and our group turned to mingle with Fyrenn's, as we all began to move back towards the castle proper.

I introduced Shining Armor to the High Guard's Captain with a few brief words, and she departed with him to oversee accommodations for the Guard. And, doubtless, to discuss the potential for further joint training exercises.

I knew for a fact Fyrenn and Luna had both been outspoken in support of the idea.

The formation of Gryphons and Ponies began to march back towards the inner courtyard at a full parade pace on either side of the rest of us, quickly overtaking our more sedate meandering. It was a sight, and a sound, that kindled hope in my heart.

Hooves, paws, and claws pounded stone in perfect time, providing a strident military tattoo without the need for drums.

I tore my eyes from the faces of the passing warriors just in time to see my mother snag Fyrenn, Alyra, and Neyla in a tight embrace with her wings, burying them in her obvious joy at their forthcoming union.

That sight too brought warmth to my soul.

They had both come a long way since I'd first known them. Kephic and Varan's choice to make Fyrenn the first Gryphon Convert had been a boon to us all in countless ways. Neyla's decision to go along on their adventures had finally brought forth the fruit we'd all been hoping for, ever since the first night at Fyrennn's Knighting Feast, when we'd seen them together for the first time.

And Alyra was a radiant joy to all who had cause to cross her path; A growing young warrior well named, and well honed already.

Watching Princess Luna converse with my father, while Kephic introduced Celestia to my mother... Introduced her as my mother the Gryphoness who raised me, not my mother the High Queen of the Gryphon Kingdoms...

Seeing Taranis share a laugh with Varan and Skye about something Alyra had said to Inside Joke, while the Changeling and Carradan stole a brief kiss that they thought no one else could see...

I even caught a glimpse of Shining Armor and the High Guard Captain sharing a moment of their own camaraderie as they passed through the Castle doors, tapping hoof to fisted claw in the time honored way of informal greeting and friendship...

As we approached the Castle's main doors ourselves, Hutchinson, Aston, William, Miles, and Shierel were there to greet us, triggering a whole host of new introductions, with smiles, and clawshakes, and embraces all around.

I stood to the back of the group for as long as I could, watching.

Drinking it in.

I caught myself smiling, debating for a moment, before simply giving in to the expression physically, and emotionally.

There would be time soon enough for worry, and concern.

I just wanted a moment to truly believe that we could survive. That we could win.

Together.

Seeing them all there... Five monarchs. A Dragon. Nine Gryphons. Four Ponies. A Changeling...

In that moment, I believed.

Chapter 31

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 15th, Gregorian Calendar

General Norris sighed, and shook her head, glaring down at her hooves and willing them to behave the way she wanted.

Stupid bucking... *Fucking* hooves. Damn. The Pony brain really liked it's 'what the hay's' and 'bucking dear sweet Celestia's.' Norris felt like she was fighting a war on five fronts just to even summon anything resembling a real killing aggression.

Requiem tossed her vibrant orange mane, in that insufferably practiced way that Norris had quickly grown to hate, and once again lashed out with her own front hooves as a demonstration. The hidden ceramic blades were almost invisible throughout the entire maneuver. Norris only caught sight of them because it was the four dozenth time she'd seen the display of prowess, easily.

The ballistics-gel dummy sagged as a significant portion of its chest cavity was savaged.

Norris shut her eyes tightly, concentrating hard, until she felt the telltale electric tingling sensation across her skin, and the sudden micro-momentary loss, then reappearance, of a sense of self, and balance.

She opened her eyes to see her familiar Human hands, clenching and unclenching them to relieve stress as she began to pace frustratedly around the training arena's padded perimeter wall.

As she ranted aloud, she focused on the cadence of her steps, readjusting to the familiar balance of a bipedal stance. She refused to admit it aloud, but Norris always experienced a microsecond of terror during the transformations that the gem in her throat somehow miraculously enabled.

Would she be able to get back everything she was?

Would she make it in one piece, going in either direction?

What if something disrupted the spell contained within the gem while it was in the middle of rearranging her very being at a subatomic level?

"This is pointless. I've trained for decades to fight, and kill, with *HANDS!* The Diamond Dog form is much closer to familiar, and it at least has the common decency to get with the fucking program when I want to kill something. How the hell you expect me to do anything with those damn hooves, with that *god-damn* passivity instinct choking my brain half to death, is beyond me."

Norris relished the ability to spout off invectives in the casual, familiar, comforting way that military life so often cultivated. A thought struck her as she glanced back at what was left of the practice dummy, and she rounded on the little red Unicorn who had become her trainer and tormenter, at Lindstrom's insistence.

"And just how in the hell are *you* managing this so easily? You fight with every weapon in this room... Hoofblades front and back, crossbows, throwing knives, spears, swords... Like you've been doing it for your whole life. I've seen Ponies with the gumption to kill. Hell, I've seen Unicorns fire RACs just as easily as you fired that crossbow... But never a Pony who *relished* it. Like you do."

Norris leaned over Requiem's head to try and instill some intimidation, and instantly regretted it.

Dammit... That Unicorn's smile was frightening. No other word for it, much as Norris hated to admit it. She straightened up reflexively as a similarly predatory note entered into Requiem's voice, her response sounding more like the sort of thing Norris would have expected from a Gryphon, or a Dragon.

"What part of this do you not understand? I *kill people* dear. It's my career of choice. Just like yours..."

Norris grimmaced as Requiem brushed past her, flicking the General's leg coyly with her tail on the way to the training chamber's door.

"...Well no, I suppose not much like yours, actually. You sit at a desk and dispatch warheads to swat a fly. I kill with more grace, precision... And..."

The way Requiem glanced over her shoulder as she delivered the final word ignited a fiery hatred in Norris. Along with an opposing ice cold sense of fear.

"...Style."

As the Unicorn plied the door's control pad with her magic, she tossed her mane again, adopting a faux disinterested tone.

"As to why you can't go back to the Diamond Dog? Well. Not everyone can be a 'lone wolf' the way Korvan can. Easier to break the passivity instinct of a Pony than the pack instinct of a Dog, as you've experienced for yourself. Twice now. And I think we both know that we both look *much* better as Ponies, than as Dogs. More approachable."

Norris folded her arms and glowered as Requiem exited the arena, Lindstrom making his way in as soon as she had cleared the doorway.

The Councilor raised an eyebrow, and jerked his head over his shoulder.

"Finding her to be a little frustrating?"

The General threw up her hands, and shook her head. She hated to accept it, but Requiem was absolutely right. As usual. A Pony was much more approachable than a Diamond Dog. A much better form for intelligence gathering, targeted assassinations, and thieving, when travelling in Equestria.

Norris restrained her tone, and the content of her words. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of Lindstrom. It had become frighteningly apparent, very quickly, that he ran the EarthGov continuity Project with a velvet coated iron fist.

And as much as she struggled to trust anyone she had met so far in the ECP, Lindstrom included, Norris had been forced to admit, both aloud, and to herself, that their goals were admirable. The briefing packet had laid it all out in a way that somehow managed to succinctly and brilliantly enumerate everything wrong with the way the HLF had been going about things for years, in under ten thousand words.

"Somewhat. Nothing I haven't handled before. The primary issue is the Equine instincts. I can't believe people take the serum willingly. The aversion to violence is *insufferable.* Almost makes me want to try being a Gryphon. At least they have the appetite for blood."

Lindstrom nodded, and spread his hands in one of the hypnotic 'be at ease' gestures Norris had begun to peg as his trademark, matching the gesture with the register of his voice.

"Requiem has a valid point. Not only are Ponies more approachable than any other species, but though the instincts of Ponies may be strong, they are not unbreakable. They can be molded, or shattered entirely, based on your will. With Diamond Dogs it is... different. Dragons too. Far too risky until you've had the time to complete the five month assessment and training regimen. Gryphons..."

The Councilor chuckled darkly, and shook his head. When Norris cocked her head in curiosity, he snorted, and gave a wave-off gesture with his hand, as he finally put words to an explanation.

"Gryphon forms don't work with the Siren Gems. We know. We've tried. It almost cost us the program. You can turn into one... But then you can't ever turn back. If you survive the imposition of their programmed ethics. And the shattering of the gem."

Lindstrom chuckled dryly again. The sound conjured the same bile inducing feelings for Norris as the predatory smile on Requiem's face had. The Councilor's words were equally disquieting, though not at all surprising, based on Norris' experiences.

"Of our thirty test candidates, seven were incinerated because their... Well their soul, for lack of a better term, was incompatible with being a Gryphon. If you've never seen that process, it will very swiftly make you reconsider Gryphons in their entirety. Their morality-lock is not a figment of culture, nor imagination, training, or instinct. It is an absolute and irrevocable component of their base nature. It defines the sphere of their free will. They can not defy it, and live."

Norris blinked, and stared, trying to come to grips with the idea of something being stronger than the horrific white hot needlepoints of the Diamond Dog pack instinct. The horror of that experience had been so intense that she'd reverted to her Human form within just five seconds, reflexively. The second attempt she had done moderately better.

She'd made it to eleven seconds.

Lindstrom shrugged, and threw up his hands.

"Of those who found they could live with it, another twenty one died when their gems shattered explosively, killing them mid-transformation. Small imperfections in the crystalline structure that would have been no issue otherwise..."

Something about the way he dismissively rendered the explanation for twenty one deaths in such cold, calculating terms left Norris feeling even more queasy. His next words were even less reassuring.

"The two who survived to functionality? Their new ethics-failsafe drove them to fight us. They killed a hundred and thirty six of ECP's best armored Human troopers, and a half dozen of our most experienced Diamond Dog mercenaries. Completely unarmed except for the built-in sharp edges and blunt surfaces. Completely unarmored."

The General closed her eyes briefly and suppressed a reflexive shiver. She'd come within minutes of being delivered over to those feathered freaks...

"We had to blow up the building they were in, and everyone else who was in it at the time, with a gunship-launched cruise missile. To stop them from betraying the program outright to the world. All told we lost over two hundred fifty people to that little... Fishing expedition."

Norris opened her eyes, and Lindstrom's were there to meet her gaze with a steely expression that left even less room for argument than his tone, as it dipped into a timbre Norris hadn't yet heard him use regularly.

"So, no. We do not provide a Gryphon pattern in the gems we issue. We also strongly suggest you not acquire one, nor try to experiment with the idea. We also do not provide Draconic patterns at the outset, for reasons you are, I'm sure, intimately familiar with. We learned many lessons from the HLF's use of gone-wild Converts. We impose an even stricter training and filtering regimen than the Conversion Bureaus do before we allow access to that kind of... Power."

Norris shook her head, and rubbed at her brow in frustration. Looking up into the middle distance as the enormity of what they were fighting against came rushing back in like a flood. She managed to keep defeat, and exhaustion, out of her tone, at the very least.

"We've got a hell of a fight on our hands, Cam. Now, and in the future. We're gonna be sorely disappointed if we have to rely on Pony forms for the majority of our defensive cordon in the years post-Earth."

Lindstrom folded his arms, and pierced Norris with a quizzical, analytical stare, before gesturing towards the door with his head.

"I want to show you something. I think you'll find it... Encouraging. And illuminating."

The pair walked in silence for the better part of fifteen minutes. Norris spent the time observing her surroundings, all the while unable to shake the overwhelming sense that Lindstrom was in turn observing her.

She hadn't been allowed to see very much of the facility in the short time she'd been there, and the journey took the General very quickly into areas that she hadn't seen before. It did not take long to realize that the base was far larger, and had by far a larger resource pool, than Norris had first guessed.

The corridors, some small as a battleship hallway, others as vast as an aircraft hangar, were filled with Humans, Ponies, and Diamond Dogs, a few with gems like her own embedded in their throats, but many without.

Noticing a particular quirk of her expression as she watched a pair of Pegasi dart past, hauling a munitions cart betwixt them, Councilor Lindstrom grinned, and inclined his head, proffering a brief explanation.

"Not everyone will be receiving a Siren Gem. They are... Expensive. To create. We all have to leave the Human shape behind someday. Soon. Hopefully not forever. But potentially. That being said? Almost every non-Human here is a Convert. We're trying to preserve the EarthGov, and Human society. Not necessarily the Human shape. Plenty of Converts understand the practical limitations of our future, but have no desire to live outside the guarantees of the EarthGov constitution."

Several more minutes of silent walking ensued, during which Norris noted that the corridors seemed to be getting larger and larger. And the air more and more moist, and cold.

At last, the pair rounded a corner so wide at its apex that three cargo trains could have driven through it abreast, and Norris beheld a sight that was at once both encouraging, as Lindstrom had hypothesized, and somehow both revelatory, and baffling in equal measure.

The Councilor and the General found themselves standing on the threshold of a chamber cut from solid granite, two hundred stories high, three thousand yards wide, and ten thousand yards long, at least, in Norris' estimation.

A series of docks, gantries, and slipways led out into calm, deep blue water. But it was the immense hulks in between the gantries that seized on the eyes, and the mind, as soon as they came into view.

They were clearly ships. Six naval ships. Each the size of a JRSF light carrier, at least.

And, judging by their shape, and the texture of the hull plating, and a thousand different subtle design cues, they were Human in design.

But something seemed... Off. About the way the light bounced off the metal of the hulls and deck, and hatchways.

Lindstrom smiled widely, and gestured to the fleet.

"What do you think?"

Norris furrowed her brow, and the Councilor launched into an explanation without hesitation as the General swept her eyes up and down each hulk in turn, then settled into watching a parade of vehicles, Humans, and Equestrians as they marched up and down one of the side-mounted loading ramps; Darting in and out of the five story, hundred yard long loading bay cut into the nearest vessel's side with tonnes upon tonnes of crated goods.

"They are made entirely of Equestrian steel, iron, wood, copper... Every single atom of their construction was imported from Equestria as raw ingots, and boards. Every single atom of the machines that assembled them was also made of imported Equestrian materials, hand assembled inside level ten clean rooms."

Lindstrom began to walk towards the nearest slip, and Norris followed in a daze. The HLF and the EarthGov Army alike had considered what it would take to pull off what the Councilor was talking about... But they had both believed the science to be five years away, at best.

Lindstrom began to speak again, and Norris listened raptly as she gazed up at the gray steel curve of the nearest ship's hull.

"They have fully functional onboard computers. Not quite so fast or powerful as what you might expect to find in the Army... But within the same weight class. Working magnetic launch coilguns, and chemical driven mortars. Heavy duty coal-fired turbine power plants that can keep pace with a fusion generator. Electric lights, heat, cooling... Radio. We finally figured out the necessary insulators. Or rather, the Genesists did with the help of some enterprising Equestrians, and we... Borrowed the data."

The Councillor finally came to a stop at the slip's railing, and nodded towards the vessel's hull as he continued.

"These six will be ready to sail within the month, each loaded with ten thousand Converts and Gem Bearers, food, prefabricated structures, manufacturing tools... Repeater rifles... All Barrier-transmissible. We'll be sending them to the opposite edge of the Barrier than the crossover point. They'll come through thousands and thousands of miles away from the Equestrian Nation, the Gryphon Kingdoms, and any of their power, influence, and conflicts... We'll have a dozen more ready before the end of next year. The seeds of a fully fledged EarthGov Colony."

He turned, and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

Norris stared at the vessel for a long moment, allowing the enormity of the idea to sink in. To kindle a fire in her belly that she hadn't truly felt in years.

Lindstrom was no pushover. No starry-eyed visionary, all talk, and no try... The ECP was not some pipe-dream, and what she had read in the intake briefing finally made sense as more than just breathless hot air.

Norris felt hope rising, like the grin on her face as she finally turned to respond. If this was what she had to fight for... Then it would be worth every second of pain, and effort, to put those damn Pony instincts in their rightful place.

"I think it's a damn good start."

"Status."

The way the Major delivered the word inside the cramped confines of the remote control and operations cubicle left the Mission Specialist's ears ringing. She grimmaced, knowing the dim lighting, and her position surrounded by armature-mounted holoscreens, would hide the visible indicators of her frustration from the Major, if not the Pilot.

Her voice remained professional, practiced, and firm.

"Vehicle is fueled, and all weapons have been loaded. Optimal launch window for strike package 'Medea' opens in ten minutes. Time to weapon delivery on-target, presuming a stealth approach, is twenty minutes from this mark. Turn-and-burn approach, worst-case, assuming vehicle loss to countermeasures; Weapons on-target in eleven minutes."

The Major nodded, and scanned the compartment's central multisystem display screen with a detached curiosity as he continued belting out orders.

"Prepare a stealth approach flight path. Run final systems state-check."

The Mission Specialist's fingers danced over a host of keys and switches, instructions flying from her mind, to the computer displays before her, then across kilometers of fiber optic cable that stretched from the buried shipping container under the Coventry Earthgov Army Airforce Airbase parking lot, all the way to GMCC satellite control servers in London.

From there, the signals jumped wirelessly through EAAF's 'Hexagon' SatVision backup system, down to the Orbital Drone secreted in a launch tube buried deep inside Pagon mountain in Brunei.

The Malakim's veritable legion of onboard AI responded nearly instantly. The Mission Specialist read the results aloud as the Pilot silently cross-checked.

"Launch rail power-on self-test is nominal. Impulsive drive system voltage nominal. Navigation AI reports all GNC systems nominal. Internal emission sinks power-on self-test is nominal. Warhead alert lights... Negative. All warheads report nominal subsystems self-checks. Spaceframe and associated structural sensors green across the board. Malakim is ready."

The Pilot nodded, and spoke up immediately as he placed his fingers in readiness over the short-hand command entry keyboard on his chair's left arm.

"Confirmed, I have a green board. Stealth approach flight path entered, taking into account the positions of the SatVision network, and the Shenzhou. Ready to issue launch command."

The Major nodded, and reached into the front of his uniform jacket, extracting a small silvery firing index as he gave his next order.

"At this time, please verify your mission orders. Upon verification of valid mission orders, open the authenticator."

The Pilot exchanged a brief glance with the Mission Specialist, then nodded, parroting the command for procedure's sake.

"Verify mission orders. Open authenticator upon confirmation."

The Mission Specialist nodded, her pulse rate rising slightly.

EAAF had made them practice a hundred different kinds of drills, a hundred times over, each, never knowing if the situation was real, or even if the Malakim vehicle itself had actually been loaded onto its launch rail.

Rumors among the small group of duty-station officers that were read in said that the vehicle hadn't even been certified for flight until very, very recently.

In her opinion, this didn't feel like a drill.

She snapped open the small red plastic 'biscuit' container that the Major had given her as he entered the control center, the telltale 'CRACK' sound repeating itself as the pilot did the same.

She entered the thirty six character alphanumeric sequence into her console, and an amber bar with bold lettering flared to life.

"I have a valid Launch-and-Strike Mission Order."

The Pilot's words confirmed that he'd gotten the same result. The Mission Specialist nodded, and grit her teeth.

It was real. They were launching Malakim.

"I agree."

The Pilot nodded, and entered another command sequence as he spoke once more.

"Unlock Authenticator."

The Mission Specialist began to type her own Authenticator unlock code from memory, barely remembering to repeat the order for confirmation's sake. Most of her energy was spent keeping her hands from shaking.

"Entering unlock code for Authenticator pad."

At the final keystroke, the control center's lighting dimmed from its already dark aspect to outright blackness, with only the red-shifted keyboard backlights, floor navigation lighting, and display screens to illuminate the space.

A soft but insistent alarm began to sound as a biometric denial and authentication pad snapped out of a compartment in the console between the two control station chairs.

The Major stepped forward and inserted his firing index into the proffered slot, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger to allow it to sample his DNA as he entered a numeric authenticator sequence on the pad's 0-9 keys, and spoke a passphrase aloud.

"Major Lionel Aulrich. EAAF golf kilo two sierra nine eight five. Day Word; Cottonmouth. Command Word; Trinity. Action Word; Jericho."

An insistent tri-tone sounded, and the control center's main AI responded aloud in a piercing genderless montone.

"Authentication accepted for launch. Verify final strike package authorization pass-phrase, and code sequence, for Medea contingency target package."

Major Aulrich folded his hands behind his back, and began to recite the required lines of poetry from memory. The Mission Specialist winced as an overwhelming feeling of dread began creeping up the base of her spine.

"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me. The Carriage held but just Ourselves, and Immortality."

The words 'ACCEPTED - ENTER SECONDARY NUMERIC SEQUENCE' flashed on screen.

"Eight. One. Five."

'ACCEPTED - ENTER FINAL ACTION WORD'

"Gabriel."

The Mission Specialist winced as her main status board began to light up with pre-launch indicators, and the control center AI spoke one final time.

"Malakim launch sequence initiated. Liftoff in T-Minus eight minutes, mark. Commit-phase positive control point in T-Minus twelve minutes, mark."

In a perfectly timed computerized ballet of machinery, hydraulic rams raised the Malakim vehicle from its horizontal loading and fuelling position, into a locked vertical position against the magnetic catapult launch rails.

The dull jaw-rattling thrum of impulsive drive engines spooling up began to fill the concrete cylinder of the launch silo, accented visually by amber warning strobes, and auditorily by a klaxon, both of which were mostly unnecessary.

Though designed so that living personnel could inspect the facility, the launch tube, storage rack, and fuelling bay were maintained, and operated entirely by AI driven armatures and machinery.

A silent countdown cycled through to completion, and the electromagnetic launch rail fired without further ado. The silo cover retracted with only a tenth of a second to spare, blown backwards by explosive bolts as Malakim soared upwards first on the momentum of a rail launch, and then increasingly on the power of an impulsive drive thruster.

Not a single living thing stood on the slopes of Mount Pagon to witness the ascent of the matte black vessel, and its cargo of death.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

I took a moment to drink it all in as everyone took their seats around the table. The room was a beautiful, light, airy, dramatic piece of architecture that perfectly framed a very dark, weighty, dramatic moment.

Two Alicorns, two Unicorns, a Pegasus, an Earth Pony, nine Gryphons, five Changelings, and a Dragon. Twenty one beings, all sat at one enormous round oak table.

I felt a sudden pang in my chest. Since when had I become an Arthurian Knight, sitting in the presence of a Dragon, and five Monarchs from three different species, alongside warriors who would someday soon be legends, if they weren't already?

I suddenly felt very out of place.

But Sildinar had asked both Neyla and I to sit as representatives under him, along with Kephic and Varan. The King and Queen had agreed, and who was I to disagree?

There was no arguing the point that I had a very close connection to the Nightmare in my own way. Perhaps the only ones at the table who had a closer tie, and who had known her longer, were Celestia, and Luna. For obvious reasons.

Taranis had agreed, at Luna's request, to sit as a Draconic voice, and the voice of another experienced warrior, though he had no authority to speak for the complex, loose structures that bound various groups of Dragons together.

Hutch and Aston were present less as Gryphon representatives, and more as representatives of Earth.

Across the table Skye, Carradan, Shining Armor, and a wizened looking Night Guard Earth Pony acted as the Pony representatives under Celestia and Luna.

They were good choices, and though I felt that from a place of bias, I could also enumerate practical reasoning. Skye had direct experience with the Nightmare, and more guts than most of the Day Guard put together. She also was the only one who knew any kind of spells that might be effective against Wisps, at least, until she could teach others in turn.

Luna had asked her to scan every Pony and Changeling participant before they were allowed into the room. Herself and Luna included.

To everyone's relief, there had been no nasty surprises.

Stan was probably the bravest and boldest Pegasus alive, and he also provided some representation for Earth. He also had the benefit of being completely divorced from any Equestrian politics or political persuasions.

Shining Armor and the Earth Bat-Pony were both obvious choices, both for their experience, and as a concession to Equestria's more old-guard sensibilities.

Beside them sat IJ, with four of her own hoof-picked Changelings, though the gesture was mostly symbolic. As I understood it, she could consult her entire Hive on any issue, and they could render a perfectly democratic vote in a matter of seconds. In that sense, her whole Hive was present, yet acting as one, and through one central locus.

Not for the first time I found myself wondering what that was like. Not that I felt as though I'd prefer it to the life I had, but I'd always been the curious sort, and I'd always liked to gain as much understanding as I could for what it was like to live inside a different head.

William, Shierel, Alyra, several more of IJ's Changelings, and a small assemblage of both Day and Night Guards sat in hastily assembled seating around the room's perimeter, providing an additional advisory circle that could contribute to the decision process, but wielded no direct representative power.

Our whole family, and clan, was in the room, I realized with a small smile, except for Miles. Alyra was a warrior through and through. She had seen and heard the worst. Experienced the bloodiest horrors a being could experience.

Miles, on the other claw, was a young Pegasus Convert still trying to rise out of the depths of a very raw trauma. The last thing he needed was to hear and see the kinds of clinical, callous discussions about life and death that would doubtless be happening at the table.

Bill and Shierel hadn't wanted to part with him at first, but Celestia had summoned a pair of Pegasi dressed in outrageous blue and gold flight suits to be his caretakers for the day... She'd called them 'Wonderbolts,' and assured us all that they were elite acrobatic flyers, and trustworthy guardians.

Miles had certainly seemed interested when they started talking about their feats of speed, and style, and seeing him make an effort to come out of his shell, Bill and Shierel had taken a small, but substantial leap of trust.

I remembered how it had felt the first time Alyra had gone to school for the day. I still very occasionally had nightmares about the time E12 had staged a night raid on us, right in the heart of Manhattan, and tried to snuff out her life.

It had not been easy to adjust. But her strength, and character, and excellent common sense, to say nothing of substantial physical prowess, had made it doable. Prayer and faith had done for the rest.

Celestia was the last to seat herself. Luna remained standing, and I shook myself from my reverie, realizing that she was about to speak.

She waited a moment until all eyes were on her, then struck her right hoofguard against the table three times slowly.

"As the summoner of these proceedings, I hereby call this session of the Council of War to order."

A moment of somber silence passed, and then Luna spoke again, her tone low, somber, and resonant, shifting her eyes to each of us in turn.

"You all have some concept of the threat we face, but I will elucidate, so that there are no illusions. The Nightmare, Queen of the Wisps, and the parasite which once drove me to become Nightmare Moon, has returned."

The sense of tension in the air was something I could almost taste. I'd been in a war room, or CIC more than once when a commanding officer had to deliver bad news, or make a tough judgement call. The taste of stress, and worry, and fear, was very familiar.

"Her kind require our bodies, to escape their eternal torment, and to influence and feel the physical world. They will stop at nothing to rule all Equestria. Turn it into a breeding factory, and slave state to service them, and them alone. All who can not be possessed, or coerced, will be killed. And it will start with this city."

A few murmurs made their way around the outer ring of advisors. Alyra raised one eyebrow and inclined her head towards Neyla and I, as if to say 'We're in trouble if the Changelings and I are the only steady ones out here in the peanut gallery.'

"The Wisps have already breached the Crystal Empire at least once. Stolen the Elements of Harmony. We are gathered here to determine how best to now mount a defense. To win this war. To save our world. Each of you have been tested and tried in the fires of war already. You are, one and all, brave, and loyal, and strong, and true. We must stand now, as we once did long, long ago. Together. And face this darkness..."

I could see that more than a few Pony faces bore expressions of shock, and terror. Not everyone had known about the Elements of Harmony coming into the room. Luna's words seemed tuned specifically to elicit fear. I suppose her intent was to ensure everypony took the situation deathly seriously.

"...Or we will all be consumed by it."

Silence descended again on the room like a soaked blanket. Filled with lead fishing weights. I could see plenty of dour faces, but amongst the Gryphons, Changelings, and Taranis, the general sentiment was one of readiness.

Amongst the Ponies, the expressions were anything but reassuring.

Nonetheless, the Earth Night-Guard raised a hoof, and spoke out, proffering a good question, obvious though the answer might've seemed to some of us, in a voice that had only a tiny hint of hesitation.

"We are... Sure that this city is the Nightmare's first, and primary target?"

Skye smacked the table gently with one hoof, and nodded emphatically, answering in a pained, stone-faced monotone.

"Absolutely. No question. Been in her head. Seen it. She's not far off from being ready. When she is? She is coming here. With everything she has."

I nodded, and murmured aloud out of force of habit. I had a tendency to vocalize my inner train of thought aloud sometimes, that had gotten me into worlds and worlds of trouble in the Marines.

"It makes logical sense."

Looking up, I suddenly found all eyes on me. Not for the first, nor last time, I was grateful that the red of my feathers could hide a blush excellently at-range. Luna inclined her head for me to continue.

I inhaled deeply, gathering my thoughts into a coherent stream, and then launched into an explanation.

"Celestia and Luna, with respect? You represent one of the greatest threats Nightmare faces. Without the Elements of Harmony, you two represent the greatest concentration of castable, shapeable magical power in the worlds. Equestria itself also represents both the stock of bodies they sorely need to conquer the rest of us. And then... Earth."

There was nodding all around, and I was glad. We couldn't take what Skye and I had seen purely at face value. Logic provided an assurance, together with the way we had surprised her, that what we'd seen was not a fabrication of the Nightmare's, but her real, deadly intent.

When no one else moved to speak, I continued, as the last of my thoughts coalesced.

"And too... You are the glue that binds us all together. Without you, there is far less chance of any alliance between the other military powers of this world."

Taranis rumbled deep in his chest, and scratched at one edge of the table absently with an enormous talon, his voice putting a very blunt, inescapable surety to his words in a way that felt as ominous as an approaching thunderhead.

"If Canterlot falls, The Royal Sisters fall with it. If Canterlot falls, Equestria falls. If Equestria falls, the Wisps will have an army of millions. If they raise that army..."

I grit my beak, my own tone dropping to a bone-shakingly low register as I could not help myself but finish his dark, but very much accurate thought process.

"The Wisps will kill us all. Any that they can't directly infest, or control in some way."

No one moved to speak again for a long, long moment. We were all, the old veterans, and greenhorns alike, busy trying to process the enormity of the foundational concepts we needed to even converse about planning to defend against such a threat.

Go on then. Now is the time. You know *exactly* what has to happen. Say it.

Now is not the time for fear, especially not in such good company.

I grit my beak again, and stood, reflexively placing a claw on my chest and feeling the glass and bronze containment vial hung around my neck, concealed in the feathers and fur.

"They are going to come here with an army. An immense force of bone combat platforms, larger than any single army in this world. Nightmare will march at its head. They will have at least three starships for support from above..."

That got everyone's attention in a hurry, most especially the Ponies who had heard only rumors of the engagement between the Nightmare's PER elite, and the JRSF. I forged ahead, the groundwork for my point well laid, if the feel of the room was anything to go by.

"There is only one way to win this war. Face them head on, outright. Claw to claw. Beak to muzzle. Beat 'em in an all out slugging match."

I could sense a rising tide of objection, so I slammed one fisted claw into the table to punctuate each word of the next sentence as I continued making my case, voice growing stronger, and more sure, from adrenaline as much as from actual confidence.

"We need every single militarily capable power in this world to fight. To make a last stand. Here. As one single fighting force. Armed and equipped with the most powerful Human weapon and defensive technology that the forges of every ready and willing city can churn out."

I could see all my fellow Gryphons nodding. IJ, Taranis, Skye, and Stan as well. Everyone else in the room was busy sharing concerned glances, trying to suss out the implications of mass producing Human weapon technology, and putting it into the claws, paws, horns, and hooves of every single race in the worlds, all at once.

Close. So close. I needed to hook the doubters. I decided to play one of my cards out and out.

"I have already secured aid from the Genesists, and the JRSF. They will turn their own personnel and systems towards building manufacturing machinery from Equestrian materials, and armor and weapons in turn using those machines. If we can secure the aid of the Diamond Dogs, the Zebricans, the Yaks, the smaller tribes of every other race that will stand... Any Dragons who will rise to the call... And the Changelings. All of the Changelings..."

I shared a brief meaningful glance with IJ. God bless her, she nodded once grimly, but firmly. She understood as much as I did that we'd need every last able bodied fighter drawing breath.

"...Then I believe we stand a chance. And I do not believe we have any other viable path to victory. We can fight as one, and many will die... But we might just snatch victory from the abyss, for all future generations."

I shrugged, and moved to sit back down between Neyla and Kephic.

"Or we can equivocate, cower, and fracture... And then we can all suffer the consequences. Forever. Your choice."

As I sat back down, Kephic clapped me hardily between the shoulderblades, and Neyla smiled, nodded, and planted a brief peck on my cheek.

Once more an uneasy silence fell. I could see a myriad hushed, or even completely silent conversations taking place, not the least of which was an unspoken argument between Celestia and Luna.

IJ's voice was the first to break the stalemate, clear, and bright, and confident.

"We agree. We cast all our votes in favor of Fyrenn's plan."

I blinked, and dipped my head in a half-nod, half-inclined-bow of thanks, which she returned.

Taranis spoke up next, chuckling grimly, and folding his forelegs across his chest.

"For whatever it counts, I also agree. There is no arguing with the simple numerics of war. We either face the storm... Or we die in it."

Shining armor shared a quick glance with Skye, Stan, and the Night Guard, before nodding, and thumping one hoof against the table.

"Equestria, and the Crystal Empire, agree, We cast our votes in favor."

Sildinar rose next, gesturing with one claw and wing as Siidran and Linnea looked on approvingly, nodding all the while.

"The Gryphon Kingdoms will cast all our votes in favor. Victory as one, or not at all."

All eyes turned then to Luna, and Celestia. The latter had her head down, chewing reflexively inside her muzzle as an unconscious attempt to relieve stress as she contemplated. Luna had her sister fixed with a stare that bore, for the first time I'd ever seen it directed at her, a little bit of anger.

At last, Ceelestia sighed deeply, and began to nod slowly.

"I fear that we have no choice. I have no hesitation to support the idea of a unified effort. But the mass production of Human weapons of war... Means of killing..."

Luna thumped one hoofguard against the table, and spoke out sharply, that hint of anger carrying through into her voice in a way that surprised not just me, but clearly Celestia as well, if her shocked expression was any indication.

"Canterlot votes 'yea.' On both counts. We can ill afford hesitation now, and we must seize *every* advantage we can."

Celestia blinked rapidly for a moment, before finally nodding, demuring fully to her sister's decision in spite of her disagreement for what must have been the first time in a long time for a matter of such magnitude.

Once again I found all eyes were drawn to me, and I suppressed the urge to shiver as Luna rose, and gestured to first me, then the table before us.

"Very well then, Fyrenn. Let us have a map rendered on the table for us, and then we shall talk of how best to execute your plan."

I nodded, and exhaled slowly through my nares, taking comfort from the expressions of support, love, and pride, that my family were one and all sending in my direction.

Warmth swelled in my chest, and along my wings, and I felt hope rise again with it, as it so often did when thinking about them all.

We could win this.

We had to.

I had a very good idea what I'd have to do if we couldn't. And I hated the idea more than I'd ever hated anything, except perhaps the Nightmare herself.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 15th, Gregorian Calendar

Internal reaction wheels were not a common feature of modern spacecraft, of any stripe.

Malakim had four, wound more than tightly enough to provide a variety of possible orientation changes on-orbit without expending any visible bursts of monopropellant, or expelling the heat and exhaust gasses of an impulsive thrust quad.

The black and steel-gray spacecraft resembled nothing so much as an old 'Skylon' SSTO, albeit with a more angular, aggressive aspect. And over twice the size.

Powered by shielded supercapacitors charged at ground level, propelled by deeply inset stealthed impulsive drives modified from stolen Genesist designs, coated in proprietary EAAFstealth composites, and venting all of its generated heat into internal emissions sinks, Malakim was completely invisible to all known forms of detection or early warning technology.

Even the best detection systems of the EarthGov itself.

The vessel did not send nor receive instructions from the ground after launch, bearing only a small passive antenna that would allow it to receive an emergency 'STOP' code, if it was broadcast widebeam from the Hexagon SatArray before Malakim reached its positive control point.

Otherwise the spacecraft was loaded and fuelled, launched, and flown, entirely by AI, based on the instructions given at launch time.

It's weapons were fired by AI, and the warheads in turn each held three AI intended to see to their navigation, detonation, and defense against countermeasures respectively.

All told, loaded with nearly the maximum complement of Nuclear Ground Strike missiles that it could feasibly carry, Malakim and its payload cost more than an entire staffed and armed JRSF Naval destroyer, and weighed almost one quarter as much again.

When the GNC AI determined it was time, Malakim flipped over to point its nose, and four launch tubes, into a retrograde orientation, as the Barrier slowly crested the horizon.

The seconds ticked by, and the tactical spaceplane reached its positive control commit point.

No broadcast came.

The Fire Control AI began its pre-strike checklist automatically.

Unlock warhead safeties on missiles on thru twenty four. Done.

Verify optimal stealth strike positioning. Done.

Open torpedo launch tube outer doors... Done.

Finalize Target Selection. Done.

Finalize Time-on-Target Programming. Done.

Issue final Nuclear Mission Order authorization codes to Warhead AIs...

Done.

Charge pneumatic low observability launch systems...

...In progress.

The twenty four Nuclear ground-strike missiles didn't look especially large, or intimidating next to their delivery vehicle.

Each was a 'mere' one point five megaton yield single warhead, wrapped in a foot thick layer of alloy armor, jet black stealth coatings, and copper colored heat abalators; Shot through with enough electronic countermeasures to knock out a small city's communication grid.

The missiles hung over the curvature of the Earth, moving solely on the force of the emission-less pneumatic ejection system that had 'fired' them from two tubes near Malakim's nose, until such time as they reached the upper atmosphere.

By then the warheads were already quite spread out. And moving far too fast to easily intercept, even with railgun fire.

Where any number of ballistic missile systems would have been most vulnerable at the apex of their trajectory, Malakim's warheads could be inserted without emissions, or trace signatures, right up until the final moments.

Until there was no viable targeting solution for a countermeasure.

As twenty four identical solid rocket fuel motors ignited, the missiles accelerated away, and retrograde, on plumes of gray and red gas, quickly reaching velocities that would have pulped them into a plasmatic goop against the atmosphere, if not for their ablative heat shield layers.

Twenty four tiny pinpricks of light, as seen from orbit, speeding towards almost invisible silver dewdrops of metal, equidistantly placed to the Barrier.

Twenty four Angels of Death, bearing Nuclear fire.

Chapter 32 Author's Note

WARNING: This chapter is very dark.

Do not consume if you struggle with semi-graphic depictions of disaster, warfare, and suicide.

Chapter 32

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 15th, Gregorian Calendar

"Vampire, vampire, vampire! All stations, TAO; Radiological detection! Nuclear missiles inbound!"

Brendt's head snapped reflexively in the direction of the Tactical Actions Officer as an ear-piercing alarm filled the North Carolina CIC, and red hues replaced the nominally colorless diffuse dim lighting of normal operations.

"REPORT!"

The Gryphon could see the man's abject terror; A ghostly gray-white pallor that had seized his skin like a sudden onset of disease. The officer's voice was vergant on panic.

"Orbital ground-strike missile fire detected! Late-phase trajectories! Twenty four warheads just entered the lower atmosphere!"

Brendt grit his beak, and felt a surge of 'fight' chemicals overtake his body as his mind ranged ahead to an immediate response, followed by questions of 'how,' 'why,' and the grim surety that no matter what he did, it would not be enough.

But try they would, nonetheless.

He reseated his wings, and barked out commands in a voice that could be heard two compartments over, even through baffled alloy walls.

"Calculate emergency intercept! All weapons release on all available targets!"

The TAO nodded, rekeyed his headset, and began typing feverishly at his console as he relayed and expounded on his orders, panic replaced with a steady combat cadence, and dispassionate tone in his voice.

"Fire Control, TAO; All batteries release on interception tracks Omicron Sierra one, thru twenty four! Break, break, Missile control, place forty eight Echo interception missiles into the VLS tubes and fire! Same tracks! Alight forty eight follow on same-type for the reload pool!"

Brendt did the math in his head, watching the twenty four red triangles descend on the central holotank.

Too little. Far too late.

The TAO's next words confirmed it.

"Fire control AI reports intercept window already closed... Impacts in seven seconds!"

Their railgun's best intercept time at the closest missile's range was fifteen, under ideal conditions.

The Captain gripped the tank's central rail, with one claw, and cycled his headset to the One-MC with the other.

If the unpredictable effects of nuclear strikes going off in proximity to the Barrier didn't send a wave of destruction their way, then the EarthGov Airforce certainly would soon enough.

"Crash Dive! Battlegroup; Initiate Crash Dive! Ahead, flank, and down, maximum bow plane extension! Batten down!"

As the North Carolina lurched into a forty five degree forward slant, and four different klaxons fired off in quick overlapping succession, Brendt's back claws dug reflexively into the deck plating. His right ear swiveled to catch the TAO's whispered words of horror as impacts began to register on the central holotank.

"Oh... *God...*"

He knew what the strike sites meant just as well as the TAO. With faster speed of thought, and years of tactical experience, his brain raced ahead to inescapable conclusions that made him feel sicker to his stomach than he ever had as a Human.

Brendt closed his eyes, and fought against the choking sensation of rage, and grief, in his throat.

There would be no coming back from *this* brink.

Millions of railgun rounds, and dozens of missiles poured from the North Carolina, and from every JRSF ship, aircraft, and installation with any line of sight to the incoming warheads.

Not one single round made it within a mile of its target.

Malakim had done its job exceedingly well, exactly as-designed.

The twenty four Nuclear Ground-Strike missiles were travelling too fast, on trajectories that would have been difficult to intercept even if they hadn't evaded detection until well after the viable firing solution crossover point.

The twenty four warheads hit their barrier retarder platforms at exactly the same nanosecond, time-on-target programming perfect to an almost immeasurable degree.

Twenty four identical one and a half megaton explosions blossomed into familiar shaped orange mushroom clouds.

The twenty four Barrier Retarder platforms designated as grounds-zero ceased to exist instantaneously, immolated at the atomic level by the fires of fusion unleashed.

Everything within two and a half kilometers of each of the blast sites then ceased to exist shortly thereafter, toasted by the thermal pulse, shredded by the overpressure wave... Or both.

In the colder or more remote parts of the world, the automated platforms were the only casualty of the blasts.

But in the more livable climate bands, some of the platforms were hosted by habited cities in the process of evacuation, or adjacent developed areas with easy access maglev lines.

And the Durham crossover point played host to the one and only official Barrier ingress point for Converts.

Hundreds of thousands of eyes, mostly Equestrian, turned upwards, as if by instinct.

Though the missile descended with a speed too great for conventional senses to register its passage before the incandescent flare of atomic fire, many Gryphons and Pegasi knew something was wrong nearly three full seconds prior.

Inexplicably, a significant number of the Human personnel, and residents in Durham looked up at the last moment as well, heads defiantly turned skyward in tandem to draw their last breaths.

The knowledge did none of them any good.

The Durham Crossover Point itself was mostly a tent city.

There was precious little in the way of blast-survivable spaces. Nothing that could shrug off a direct ground-level hit.

The flash vaporized the camp, and most of what was left of Durham itself, including the regional EarthGov Military Police headquarters, the Conversion Bureau, and the RDU Intraglobal Skyport.

For a tiny fraction of a second, to those with faster processing minds, the skeletons of Ponies, Gryphons, Dragons, Humans, and other Equestrians were all clearly visible together with the primary structural members of buildings, and vehicles, as everything else vanished in the byproducts of the fusion reaction unleashed.

The bones and alloys turned to dust in the next millisecond.

Unimpeded by the relatively flat terrain, the blast wave shot out in all directions with an unholy howl, shredding anything within two kilometers which the thermal pulse had not already reduced to ash, or slag.

Buildings, maglev tracks, vehicles, and people, were immolated, shredded, and then mixed into a turgid soup of base carbons, with the leftovers bathed in searing radiation.

Ejecta soared into the sky, and rubble flew in all directions, each piece with the force of a railgun round.

Orbital SatVision AI began to enter 'panic' mode as they watched the lights of half the North Amerizone East Coast wink out, along with a large portion of Europe, a quarter of Africa, and half of Central and South America, as power grids switched into emergency shutdown mode to protect against EMPs.

Inside the GMCC, and JRSF CentCom alike, synthesized AI voices atonally announced the carnage that had been unleashed.

"Nuclear detonation sites: Exeter. Bordeaux. Mediterranean Ocean. Qargha. Timbuktu. Kenema. Atlantic Ocean. Belem. Macapa. Ciudad Bolívar. Caracas. Kralendijk. Caribbean Sea. Fonds Des Negres. Baracoa. Nassau. Charleston. Durham. Akron. Sudbury. Fort George. Kimmirut. Baffin Bay. Norwegian Sea."

No one in either command center so much as moved, or even breathed, as the AI spoke out in what would have been almost perfect harmony if they'd shared the same room.

"Estimated Casualties: Nineteen million."

"Jesus CHRIST have mercy! What just happened?!"

General Sorven fumbled madly for her earpiece as CentCom's primary officer of the watch rose from his horseshoe shaped duty station console, and began to parse the information on the main holodome aloud with slack jawed horror.

"Twenty four Orbital Ground-Strike nuclear weapons were launched from an unknown source on the day-side of the planet... Their impact points were synchronized to the Barrier Retarder platforms."

From his position at the back of the room, General Arnshekh spoke out towards the ceiling, addressing the primary facility AI in a voice that sent chills down Sorven's spine, not because it was loud, or insistent, but because it was cold, calculating, and completely calm.

"Computer; Verify casualty projections."

Sorven closed her eyes and shuddered, collapsing backwards into her chair as the synthesized voice repeated the dire tidings it had spoken only moments before.

"Based on impact sites, wind conditions, geological information, population distribution and demographics, architectural blueprints, and initial blast telemetry, the twenty four detonations have caused approximately nineteen million immediate casualties. One to three million additional radiation, temperature exposure, and injury-related casualties are projected for the next twelve hours."

The General didn't need to turn her head, or open her eyes, to know that the next voice to fill the dead air of the CentCom command room was Seyal's.

Where the other three dozen personnel in the room were bound in iron bands of gut wrenching silence, regardless of species, and Arnshekh had spoken with cold clarity, Seyal instead voiced a barely contained fury that made Sorven's stomach turn almost as much as the number the AI had said aloud.

"They just committed an act of war. I move that we stand to Defense Condition One, and begin primacy-oriented first-strikes. Cut the heads off this damn beast. Once and for all."

Sorven exhaled slowly, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She said a silent, ashen prayer of gratitude that her sons were there with her in San Cristobal.

She knew full well that an untold number of sons and daughters... An untold number of children... Had just perished.

And it occurred to her that San Cristobal might be the next crater, depending on who had fired the Nuclear weapons, and why. And what they might do under the duress of retaliation.

And yet, she also knew what *had* to happen next. What response *had* to be given to such callous disregard for life. As much for the good of Humanity, as anyone else.

Sorven screwed up all the energy she could muster, but she felt that her voice still sounded almost defeated as two words escaped her lips.

"I concur."

From the back of the room, Arnshekh's voice rumbled forth, shaking the floor with his assent.

"As do I."

Sorven finally opened her eyes, and cast her gaze down to General Dappled Stratus. The Pegasus was weeping openly, face set like duracrete, but tears streaming from his eyes. He nodded slowly, trying to speak, and failing as his throat caught.

Oh dear GOD...

Sorven realized with an abrupt start that Stratus' father, mates, and four foals had been in Bordeaux, waiting to meet him for his upcoming leave...

Stratus inhaled deeply, shook himself, and then found his voice at last.

"I agree also."

Seyal reached out to type on her console with so much force, Sorven feared the plexiglass would break under the strain. She idly wondered just how many Equestrian citizens of various kingdoms had died in the blast... Enough that Celestia might not even protest as the Gryphons inevitably suggested, and then probably carried out, a no-quarter extermination of the EarthGov command structure?

Probably so, Sorven reflected grimly.

An all-call tone sounded from the CentCom PA, as the Gryphoness patched herself through to the main JRSF Command Comm-Loop.

As she spoke, she withdrew a thick physical steel plated binder from below her station, flicking it open to the appropriate location from memory, mainly for the sake of procedure. Sorven had no doubt the Gryphon General had every single jot and period of the EWO memorized.

"All posts, all posts, this is CentCom with a priority one message. Break, break. All posts, CentCom message for all JRSF and ConSec field commanders is authenticated as follows..."

Seyal shared a brief glance with Sorven, before setting her expression in fury, and assurance, reading the code-words from memory with a forceful, loud tone.

"Day Word: Pinafore. Action Word: Durendal. Authentication: JRSF Gamma. Romeo. Quebec. Two. Sierra. Niner. Six. Eight. Five. Two. Standby for new orders."

To her credit, the Gryphoness confirmed everything from her memory visually against the physical EWO as she continued.

"All posts; We are moving from Defense Condition Two, to Defense Condition One. JRSF CentCom is declaring Defense Condition One - War Footing. All Section Command Officers; Open your Emergency War Orders packets, and proceed to deployment strategy Onyx Five."

Seyal allowed the words to sink in for a moment, before completing the dispensation in staccato fashion, words hurled like darts at the microphone of her headset.

"All posts, all posts; Release of strategic railgun weapons is authorized on all primary EarthGov governmental, EAF, EarthGov Army, and EarthGov Military Police targets. No Quarter for any enemy Command Level assets and personnel. JRSF Commanding Officers with access to railgun and cruise missile weapons systems, select best-possible targets, as conditions permit, using strike package Jade Eleven from your EWO. Prioritize enemy Flag Officers, EarthGov Councilors, and Strategic Weapon launch points."

The fateful words finally spoken, Seyal cycled her headset to the Flag-level comloop, fixing Sorven with a furious stare, who's rage she knew was directed not at her, but at people thousands of kliks away.

"We have to make a statement. And we have to ensure they can not use the remainder of their strategic weapons against us. Ever again."

Sorven finally allowed her own tears release, and nodded silently. She knew precisely what Seyal was suggesting...

And God have mercy... She agreed with the order. Agreed with the rage, and the hatred, and the spirit of vengeance. Agreed with the spite, and the fury.

And, too, with the practicality.

As Seyal turned back to her console, Sorven switched her microphone over to the support staff loop.

"Start issuing immediate coastal evacuation orders for the Florida peninsula, the gulf of Mexico, the east coast of Central America, Cuba, Dominica, and the South American north coast. Send the emergency shutdown codes for all power grids in the western hemisphere."

Seyal's claws once again danced across the control keys of her station, opening a direct encrypted line to a new contact. She waited only long enough for the secure connection to be verified, before speaking out in a low, clear, slow voice.

"Shenzhou Actual, JRSF Centcom. Ace of Spades. Repeat; Ace of Spades."

"...Well, what *are* you supposed to do after you say something that foolish in front of the whole squad? I took it on the chin and laughed like the rest of 'em. I haven't lived it down to this day."

Amrys chuckled at the man's words in spite of herself. The blue and black Gryphoness had found Commander Watkins to be strikingly similar to the Humans she worked with in the JRSF, with an admittedly exceptional sense of humor. For a Human.

As the pair entered the Shenzhou's bridge, Amrys took a deep breath from the stream of hot air rising from the coffee mug clenched in her claws. Perhaps the boredom of the joint posting would be tempered by the opportunity to make new and unconventional friendships.

The Gryphon moved to take her station at the Shenzhou's main operations console, shaking her head, and permitting herself a smile as she exchanged a nod with first the Pegasus at the helm, and then the other EarthGov officer stationed at the engineering console.

Amrys turned her head to the right to glance again at the Pegasus manning the helm, and then out the main holodome. And the entire world came apart in an instant.

"Alert. Radiological detection. Missile Warning. Automatic defense procedures initiated."

Amrys' claws flew into a practiced, fluid series of commands as the shipboard AI trumpeted the warning again, and the alert lighting triggered. The Shenzhou's systems were not terribly different from the Naval warfare architecture she had trained on with the JRSF for several years.

"Missile Warning. Radiological Warning."

It took less than a full second for the Gryphoness to see and understand what had happened. Far less time than it would take to elucidate aloud. It only took another half second of contemplation to understand the implications.

Twenty four orbital ground strike nuclear missiles. Terminal-phase descent profile; Seven seconds to impact. No chances for interception, even with particle weapons. Target zones coinciding with the Barrier Retarder platforms.

It was excruciatingly painful, simple mathematics. Ice-cold, crystal-clear logic.

Amrys moved her left claw to her sidearm, raised the rail pistol to acquire her target, and disengaged the safety in a single smooth motion that escaped the notice of the other three beings on the bridge. Until the whine of the capacitor became audible in the midst of the shocked silence, drawing every single eye instantly.

She locked her gaze with Watkins for a single moment. Not quite a hesitation, so much as an intentional moment of connection. Amrys tried as hard as she could to convey her sentiment with her own eyes, even as she took the space of a single breath to utter it aloud.

"I'm sorry."

The report of the shot was deafening in the confined space of the bridge.

Amrys forced herself to watch in fully decelerated time as Watkin's expression morphed from shock, to fear, to a deeply sad acceptance in the space of just the single exhalation before the pull of the trigger.

She could comfortably take the risk of a moment to express her genuine sorrow.

But with Nuclear weapons falling on populated cities, the luxury of sparing Watkins' life was not one that she could justify. Split seconds would matter now. Billions of lives were at risk.

He had been her friend, and tenuous ally just a split second ago.

Now he was the enemy.

Leave no enemy standing.

She winced internally as Watkin's neck disintegrated outright. The JRSF was issuing Gryphons a specially designed side-arm meant for their larger claws. Though shaped much like a pistol, the weapon had the concussive kick of a Human-sized carbine.

Watkins' head and shoulders were unarmored, and Amrys' shot hit him directly where Gryphons were directed, by both instinct and training, to hit a Human target if possible; Right through the throat beneath the jaw, severing the airway, jugular, and the spinal nerve almost instantaneously.

A painless death, at the very least.

As the spark of her new friend's life vanished from his eyes, and his body began to succumb to the ship's artificial gravity in a slump, Amrys moved her weapon slightly to the left, and hit the second Human officer, a shy seventeen year old lieutenant who had introduced herself as Tanaka, in precisely the same spot.

The Lieutenant's expression seemed frozen at 'shock,' never quite making it to fear, anger, or sadness, as comprehension never had a chance to dawn on her for just why her life had so abruptly ended.

Amrys continued to hold the weapon in her left claw, pointing it at the connecting door to the CIC as she began to enter emergency override codes into her console. Ostensibly the joint position of JRSF and EAF on the Shenzhou was intended to prevent either side from using the ship purely for their own ends.

Councilor Martins had felt that EarthGov's motives were disingenuous, at best, and had seen fit to provide the senior JRSF officers with the top level debugging access codes for the ship's computer. Normally such a blatant security risk would have been scrubbed before spaceflight, but the Shenzhou had been pressed into service with a great many tasks unfinished.

In the end, that had turned out to be quite beneficial.

"Combat alert alpha. Arm all weapons, bring fusion reactors to emergency duty cycle, and standby engines."

As she spoke to the computer, Amrys disabled every other console on the ship, from engineering switchboards, to lighting control, with just four text-based commands, leaving the bridge as the only location with functioning connections to the ship's central processors.

The ship's AI began to atonally list nuclear detonation sites, and casualty projections as small pinpricks of incredibly bright light blossomed around the Barrier's perimeter, filling the holodome with a symphony of death, and suffering, rendered in miniature from their orbital perspective.

The Pegasus at the helm collapsed onto her haunches, and began to hyperventilate, eyes fixed as if by steel wires on the two Human corpses sprawled across the deck, and their severed heads resting in growing pools of blood.

Amrys snapped her head to face towards the panicking officer, and mustered the loudest, most deck-shaking shout she could extract from her lungs.

"PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER ENSIGN! WE ARE AT WAR! LIVES DEPEND ON US!"

The words seemed to have some effect; The Pegasus nodded silently, working hard to bring her breathing under control as she turned back to her console, her muzzle ashen with shock and grief.

"Y... Yes... ma'am."

With a hiss and the distinctive metallic clunk of a manual override, the doorway to the CIC popped open. Amrys waited just long enough to verify that the face in the hatchway was Human, and adjust her aim ever so slightly to account for the woman's shorter stature, before firing down her pre-established bearing.

As panicked sounds filtered out from the CIC, she stepped away from her console and placed both claws on the sidearm for stability, speaking calmly to the ship's AI as she moved to line up shots through the slit of the just barely-open doorway.

"Re-establish tracking of EarthGov Nightwatch aircraft. Start listening in on EAF commloops and begin tracking EarthGov stealth and high-value command and strategic assets with sensors."

Two more Human faces came into view, fumbling madly with their own sidearms. Their positioning was perfect, and with another pull of the trigger Amrys split both their skulls down the center with a single round.

"Shenzhou Actual, JRSF Centcom. Ace of Spades. Repeat; Ace of Spades."

Amrys barely paused to process both the message, and the positions of the remaining Human, and three Ponies in the CIC.

She adjusted her position once more, firing on her last target as she spoke only a single word into her headset.

"Acknowledged."

Her final round shredded the already damaged remains of the CIC's central holotank, before passing directly through the heart of the Human EAF officer that had been using it as a meager form of cover.

That left just herself, and five Ponies onboard. She holstered her pistol, and made her way forward purposefully to the helm, tapping the Pegasus on the shoulder as her eyes darted over the console, and assimilated all the information it had to offer.

"Take the others to the Shrike, and evacuate. Go directly to the secondary emergency rendezvous point in Okhotsk. Transponder off, and radio off. Make contact with CentCom once you arrive, and new deployment orders will be waiting for you. Do you understand?"

The Pegasus nodded, slowly at first, then with increasing certainty. She saluted meekly with one hoof, and then made her way aft to the CIC, muscling one shoulder into the hatchway and pressing to force a wider aperture.

With the survival of all other JRSF personnel handled, Amrys seated herself in the helm station's multispecies chair, and set about redirecting a short-claw access version of all ship functions and sensor information to the helm console.

After a few moments of careful examination, she tapped several controls in quick succession to re-establish encrypted communications with JRSF CentCom.

"CentCom, Shenzhou Actual; Ship is secure. Remaining JRSF crew has been issued evacuation instructions. I'm starting the contingency procedure now, my time to target is three minutes. Shenzhou's sensors have re-acquired both Nightwatch aircraft, as well as several EarthGov strategic assets which are in various pre-launch stages of preparation. Telemetry should be available to you now."

Amrys divided her attention between the auxiliary craft bay status board, and the main sensor plot as she waited for a response.

"Understood Shenzhou Actual. We are receiving your telemetry, and we will make good use of it. Sorv'ea Ch'adh anam bàs tei'run."

Success from your valiant death.

Hearing the old battlecry in Gryphic brought Amrys a small measure of comfort. For a response, she settled on a simple, timeless phrase that seemed to have an equivalent in every language, and every culture.

"Thank you Seyal. Good hunting."

As the Shrike departed, Amrys commanded the Shenzhou to pitch over and fire engines in a full burn retrograde maneuver, speaking up towards the bridge ceiling as the curvature of the Earth slipped from view, then reappeared.

"Plot and display a direct course for a ninety degree impact with the GMCC at Serranilla Bank."

"Pushback in two minutes! Nightwatch Two security details; Clear tarmac for pushback."

Councilor Sakai shuddered as the sounds of distant automatic railgun fire punctuated the PA announcement. Distant, but far too close for comfort. The forlorn wail of an emergency alert siren started up as her bodyguard practically pushed her through the security cordon, towards the waiting behemoth gray aircraft.

Sakai dug in her heels momentarily, frozen in place by the sound of a screaming child in the crowd of civilians that had quickly begun to mob the outer security perimeter.

The rest of Mumbai's intraglobal Skyport was under a ground stop. Civilians were smelling the smoke pouring up from the metropolis. Seeing the fires. Hearing the railguns. They weren't stupid. They knew more or less what the Nightwatch plane was.

The only hope of escape from a city suddenly wracked by the titanic forces of a furious, raging ground war.

Her bodyguard snagged her by the hen of her jacket, placing his other hand roughly on her shoulder and pushing with more than a little impolite force. James Torrens had never been one for subtlety. His voice reflected that almost as much as his stone-faced expression.

"Ma'am? With utmost respect... *Hustle.* This facility may very well be compromised. This aircraft leaves in one hundred fifteen seconds, with or without us on it. Councilors Couldoire, Sato, Liu, Williams, Michaels, and Endris are already aboard!"

Sakai shook herself, and complied in a daze, her mind ranging on from the panicked tear-filled faces of the civilian crowds, to much more immediate concerns as the pair dashed the hundred yards to the side of the aircraft.

The JRSF wasn't going to hurt anyone outside the EarthGov command and military structures. Whatever else the other Councilors might say, or think Sakai knew that for an absolute fact.

Frightened as the people beyond the stone-faced heavily armored MPs were? They were likely much, much safer than she was. Or her colleagues.

"Have you been able to reach Councilors Miyagi or Finch?!"

Torrens shook his head as he practically lifted Sakai onto the airstair. Two waiting EAF officers more or less yanked her into the belly of the aircraft, and then Torrens behind her in turn.

As another noncom ushered them towards their seats, and began to belt them in with five point safety harnesses, James finally managed a response.

"Agents are canvassing right now, but early reports suggest they may be cut off by fighting in the city center. JRSF forces have seized all maglev stations, VTOL and Sea Ports already, and the Military Police report that they're taking catastrophic losses. Mumbai is a loss at this stage."

Sakai could feel her blood freeze in her veins. The attack had only begun ten minutes ago! How in the name of all that was Holy could EarthGov have lost an entire city in that time?!

"Can we do *anything* for them?!"

Torrens shook his head, and began cinching down his safety harness as the noncom moved to work on Sakai's.

"Even if they could find them in the next minute, they won't be able to make our flight. They'll have to take whatever transport their agents can acquire for them. If they're still alive."

The final four words got Sakai's attention more than even the assertion that Mumbai was lost. She stiffened, and fixed Torrens with a searing questioning gaze, lips pinched in a thin line somewhere halfway between panic, and resignation.

Torrens sighed, and acquiesced to the unspoken request.

No sugar coating.

"It's very early stages, ma'am... But reports are already coming in that the JRSF are targeting both Flag officers, and Councilors. With extreme prejudice."

Sakai sat back in her seat, hard, the air whooshing out of her lungs as if she'd been struck in the ribs with a baseball bat. After a moment, she gathered the energy to speak, the words as much a quiet statement of loss and sagness, as a worried fearful question.

"They declared no quarter on us?"

Torrens nodded slowly, listening to something in his earpiece before elaborating in an almost mechanical voice.

"GMCC is preparing to launch a full scale Nuclear retaliatory strike on all cities and installations that are reporting losing ground. Including Mumbai. They hope to take out enough of the JRSF in the process to allow the EAF to establish a defensive cordon around more Human-skewed population centers."

Sakai felt the ice in her blood give way to a fiery flood of objection. She pressed against her safety harness, almost by reflex, as the sound of immense spooling jet turbines began to fill the cabin.

She shouted to make herself heard as a soft klaxon joined the thundering noise of the engines.

"As soon as we are airborne, I want you to go to the SCIF. Signal the GMCC and revoke their Consular authority outright, on my emergency authority! Then get me a direct line to Janet Martins. She's as close as we have to a neutral party, she might be able to get us a diplomatic conduit setup to negotiate a surrender!"

The look Torrens gave her made Sakai angerier, if anything; The man's dumbfounded confusion, and stubbornness when confronted with the obvious, was infuriatingly endemic to the Human military mentality.

Somehow Sakai had known it would be the death of them all one day.

She hated being proven right.

"Ma'am?! You can't be ser--"

The Councilor cut her bodyguard off with a fury which he was very much not used to, mixed with a certainty that was far more familiar.

"We are *not* going to win a war by nuking our *own* cities! The Equestrians will never forgive us, and no matter how many of them we kill today, they will always have the more advantageous position! If they really wanted to kill us all? The only thing they'd have to do is deny us entry outright! We *can't* win this! We have to turn this damn thing off James! Before---"

Sakai's objections, Torrens' misgivings, and the roar of Nightwatch Two's immense turbines vanished in an expanding wall of white-hot light and sound, as four thousand medium tonnage bombardment railgun slugs lit into the aircraft mercilessly as they simultaneously reached the inexorable end of their long parabolic hypersonic arc.

The civilians and MPs at the hundred yard cordon around the vehicle instinctively ducked, the maneuver turning into a mad screaming scramble for safety that was largely unnecessary.

The weapons targeted at Nightwatch two had been selected by mass, and composition, and fired from the Battleship Tohoku with precisely enough energy, to vaporize the aircraft and everything within twenty yards, while impacting with an angle that would minimize shrapnel, and concussive forces to anything beyond fifty.

Specifically tuned to avoid collateral damage. But to leave no chance of survivors at ground zero.

As the fireball faded, and dazed MPs began to pick themselves up off the pavement, all that remained of Nightwatch Two, and her passengers, was a sixty yard wide smoking glass crater.

Force Captain Sommers was just beginning to wonder if that damn Gryphon's words about tracking the Nightwatch planes had been an empty threat, when an insistent alarm pierced the relative calm of Nightwatch One's flight deck.

The aircraft's first officer read, then re-read the computer's report. Sommers could see the answer to her question over his shoulder. She sat back in her jumpseat, and extracted her electronic cigarette from her uniform's breast pocket, flicking the device on, and placing it between her lips as the first officer finally managed to fire off a panicked report.

"SIR!! We just received the emergency loss-of-aircraft signal from Nightwatch Two!"

Sommers shrugged, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply from the cylinder clutched in her teeth, speaking quietly around it more for her own benefit, than that of the panicked lieutenant.

"So. They weren't bluffing after all."

As fear seized on the pilot, and the rest of the deck crew, alarms began to blare, and orders were feverishly shuted, parroted, and then executed.

The jet's engines changed pitch abruptly, as did the angle of the floor beneath Sommers' feet.

All completely pointless.

She took another depe pull from the cigarette, and winced, thinking about the forty six Councilors in the aft compartments of the aircraft.

"Godammit.""

The word was delivered with an almost casual dispassion. The voice of a woman who knew she was already dead, and could do absolutely nothing about that fact.

As Sommers tensed to inhale one last time, her world vanished in a cacophony of shrapnel, plasma, and raw kinetic energy bled off as heat and light.

Fifteen thousand heavy bombardment railgun rounds from the battleship Falkirk pierced Nightwatch One and her escorts mid-air with an inescapable cloud of tungsten alloys moving at mach fifteen, landing less than twenty seconds after the rounds that had obliterated Nightwatch Two.

In less than thirty seconds, over a third of the EarthGov Council perished, cut down by weapons that they themselves had voted to authorize, fund, build, and transfer into the hands, claws, and hooves of the officers that had pulled the triggers.

The war was less than fifteen minutes old.

"We're getting *KILLED* out here!"

"We just lost our lead bird! VTOL Kilo two niner is DOWN!"

"Oh my GOD!"

"Defense grid in sector thirteen just went offline! We have multiple airborne pings INSIDE the Vancouver aerial defense grid!"

"Mayday mayday mayday! EAF three seven niner heavy is---"

"ALERT! GMCC this is Vancouver central! Multiple cruise missile strikes have hit the Seaport, Skyport, and the EarthGov complex! We have Councilors down!"

"EurCom, this is Wroclaw MP HQ; We need *immediate* backup! We're being overrun! There's a Dragon in the building, and--- AAUUUUGHHH!!!"

"No. Oh... No... No... NO! This *can't* be happening!"

"Phoenix contingency has been declared. EarthGov Military Police section chiefs; Proceed to emergency deployment strategy Snowman Three."

"Military Central, this is Lima EarthGov complex; What the FUCK are you doing out there?! We need AIR SUPPORT! We have multiple Gryphons and Pegasi bringing down our Consular evacuation transports!"

"GMCC One-loop, GlobeInt AI; Strategic Naval Railgun impacts detected on Military Facilities; Mumbai. Vancouver. Lima. Los Angeles. Seattle. Tokyo. Sydney. Hong Kong. Tehran. Athens."

"There's still PEOPLE down here! HELP US!"

"GMCC One-loop, GlobeInt AI; North Amerizone power grid has entered a commanded fault-interrupt state. Loss of signal from Nightwatch Two. Lima EarthGov Consular Complex. Vancouver EarthGov Consular Complex. Tokyo EarthGov Consular Complex. EAF bases in Seattle. Los Angeles. Sydney. Hong Kong. Athens. Tehran. Damascus. Albuquerque. Minot. San Diego. Orlando. La Paz."

"GMCC THIS IS NIGHTWATCH ONE! WE HAVE LOST OF SIGNAL ON NIGHTWATCH TWO! REPEAT WE--"

The termination of Nightwatch One's transmission with an abrupt warning tone brought a dead stop to the frenzy of action inside the GMCC's main operations center. The silence was punctuated by the soft warbles and trills of the computer systems, and at intervals by the thunderous clanging of draconic claw's against the room's sealed outer blast doors.

The stipulated JRSF security delegation had mercifully been outside the central operations chamber when the attacks began, and someone had thankfully had the presence of mind to order the facility into a sealed hunker-down state.

But it wouldn't be long before they gained entry nonetheless. According to the radio chatter, they'd killed everyone else on the surrounding three levels of the facility in just four minutes.

General Morales closed his eyes, and spared a half second to say a prayer for the lost souls of the Nightwatch aircraft, and the GMCC, before dismissing as much emotion as he could, as he reached up to toggle his headset to the one-loop.

Before he could speak, the GlobeInt AI's atonal stilted voice came over the frequency yet again.

"GMCC One-loop, GlobeInt AI; Loss of signal from Nightwatch One. Shenzhou security detail. SAC Backup Facility in Brisbane."

Morales winced. He knew that while the loss of the Nightwatch planes was unthinkable, that it was still something for which there was a procedure. A response.

The loss of the Shenzhou sent a chill up his spine. He knew exactly what that might represent.

The destruction of SAC backup in Brisbane meant that GMCC was the only facility left to order strategic weapon strikes. And those would have to be done manually, since the Dead Hand had been disconnected.

A loud 'CLANG' from the direction of the main entry doors told Morales that if he wanted to issue any final orders from GMCC, that they would also have to be issued very, very quickly. Or never at all.

He inhaled deeply, then spoke as loudly, and authoritatively as he could.

"GMCC, this is General Morales. At this time I am declaring the Omega Contingency. Loss of Planet to enemy beachhead. Section leads, retrieve your EWO and turn to the Omega final orders and force disposition section. Begin procedures to decentralize and devolve command to field Flag level officers in preparation for loss of GMCC, and transition of force disposition to a guerilla resistance stance."

All eyes in the command center were fixed on the General. Scenario Omega was more of a laughable theory to the younger, or lower ranking officers. Morales could see the horror dawning on each face in turn as they realized that their only remaining option, aside from surrender, was to burn and salt the Earth behind them, in the hopes that resistance might rise from the rubble.

Morales shook himself, and mustered the will to speak again. He knew what had to be done, before it was too late to send the command codes. Strategic weapons were the only Hail Mary that Humanity had left.

They would have to make them count.

"One MC, break, break. Strike Ops; This is a nuclear mission order. Repeat, this is a nuclear mission order. "

Morales seated himself purposefully behind his command console, and began entering the needed ID and authentication codes on its physical alphanumeric panel. As the codes were accepted Morales locked eyes with the primary Strike Ops officer, and spoke into the comm loop once more.

"Distribute strike package Omega One, as tailored by GlobeInt based on latest enemy force dispersion intelligence, to all Nuclear and Railgun strategic assets."

The General pulled open the deceptively small, unassuming 'biscuit' drawer as its locks disengaged with a small 'click.'

He continued to speak as he gingerly removed the third in a line of familiar red cards ensconced in clear plastic casings.

"Under the single-point-command emergency rule, and the Omega contingency, I give a non-revocable EAM to strike, with high confidence from GlobeInt AI for concurrence. Day-word: Cottonmouth. Action-word: Megiddo. Nuclear Strike Authorization follows. Niner. Echo. Delta. Golf. Niner. Seven. Mike. Omega. Six."

Morales collapsed back into his chair as a loud 'BANG' followed by a rib shaking roar sounded from the rear of the Command Center.

He muttered darkly under his breath as he drew his sidearm, and pressed the barrel to his temple.

"Please forgive me."

Amrys closed her eyes, and said a final prayer of thanks for a life well lived, and future assured. Shenzhou's AI could handle the final task; Dumping the beyond-safe-limit buildup of the ship's fusion cores, and emergency capacitors, into a single one thousandth of a second burst of the vessel's FTL drive at just the right moment.

The acceleration would bring the craft to a mere three hundredths of light speed in the fractional time the drive's warping field was active.

It would be more than enough.

Indeed, anything more significant would threaten the future of life on Earth out and out, which was the last thing the JRSF wanted.

Amrys grinned ever so slightly as the ship's AI let out a low tone indicating the drive was about to engage.

There were far worse ways to die than in the largest artificial explosion in a planet's history.

Two things the Gryphoness knew with absolute certainty as a deep thrum echoed through the Shenzhou's structural members, time seemed to briefly stop, and the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

First; She had done her duty, and done it well. With the GMCC gone, the EarthGov military would crumble within days. Countless lives would be spared, even factoring in those who would die from the blast's secondary and tertiary effects.

Second?

No one was ever going to forget this moment.

Not Genesis. Not the PER. Not the HLF. Not whatever was left of the EarthGov. Not Natives, nor Converts. Not Humans, Ponies, nor Dragons, nor Gryphons.

*This* was going to get everyone's attention.

Violently.

The initial acceleration propelled the Shenzhou straight through the Caribbean Sea's frigid waters. The ship pierced the solid rock above the Serranilla Bank facility at 0.03 C, dissociating and shedding all of its built up energy as heat and light a fraction of a millisecond later.

The GMCC, its shielding layer, the rock above, and the sea above that turned from matter into energy instantaneously as the Shenzhou's over three hundred meter length, and significant, dense mass, moving at a fraction of lightspeed, was converted into nothing but the raw energy release of an impactor unmatched since the end of the Late Heavy Bombardment.

The nexus of the ten thousand gigaton explosion briefly burned hotter than the core of a Neutron Star, before the sphere of untameable energy shot outwards at hypersonic velocities.

Initially, the fireball was only a few hundred kilometers wide, but that grew to just shy of one and a half thousand within the space of four seconds.

All cloud cover on the facing side of the planet vanished as the initial airburst travelled outwards at a speed that would have flattened anything on the surface that dared to stand more than an inch high, had there been anything but ocean water to compress and shred in its path.

By the time the thermal pulse and airburst reached inhabited land, both were robbed of enough power for those taking shelter behind even rudimentary cover to have a high chance of survival.

The power grid had been sent into a commanded shutdown minutes before to avoid the worst of the EMP, and evacuations of coastal areas had already begun.

As rapid as the tsunami's advance was, there would still be many minutes to restart hardened emergency services electrical devices, and vehicles, to move the most critically endangered away from the towering volume of water that had been displaced by the impact.

The ejecta cloud punched straight through the roof of the atmosphere in a matter of minutes, and kept going, sending multiple pieces of debris onto suborbital ballistic arcs, and even a few into escape velocity.

At the explosion's heart, a six hundred kilometer crater took shape. Vaporized seawater, and rock, and gasses coalesced into a faintly radiated steam overtop the immense pool of magma that the heat had transformed the local crust into.

Within just hours, the facing side of Earth began to darken as particulate ejected matter began to take up semi permanent residence in the upper atmosphere, mixing with the leftovers of the Vancouver cloud, the Creek Mountain cloud, and the ashes of the twenty four orbital Nuclear ground strikes, to choke out ninety percent of the planet's feeble remaining sunlight.

Inside twenty four hours, the effect had begun to appear in all observed locations on the planet's surface, as the mushroom cloud finally began to dissipate.

Earth's long and final winter had begun.

"Warning! Quantum Energy threat detected!"

Doctor Kissler's tea mug fell from his right hand as the muscles locked up in pure shock, shattering on the room's gray tile floor as the lights turned red, and a piercing alarm began to sound.

The Quantum Situational Awareness Facility AI repeated the warning in its chipper European accented female-coded voice.

"Warning! Quantum Energy threat detected!"

Kissler scrambled past the forlorn remains of his afternoon tea, arriving at the room's central console in more of a controlled collision than a dignified stop.

As he switched his gaze frantically between the room's central ultrawide floor to ceiling holoscreen, and the main console, a dozen other scientists and officers sprang to their duty stations.

Kissler shouted to make himself heard as he began to enter commands to tune the facility's particle detectors to specific wavelengths. The infographic overlay and map on the main screen changed accordingly.

"PROCEDURES people! Follow the detection procedure! Verify the equipment, check the contraindications, and collate the supporting---"

"DOCTOR KISSLER!"

The panicked shrieking note of Doctor Edward's voice brought Kissler's eyes up to meet his senior colleague's face. The pallor of horror and shock on Edward's visage redirected Kissler's eyes towards the room's main screen once more.

Kissler felt frantically for the edge of the console as his knees began to give out from an instantaneous sheer panic response.

Edwards dashed forward to the nearest military officer, and gripped her firmly by the shoulder, practically shouting in her face to ensure he was heard and understood.

"Send an all-call alarm to both the EarthGov and JRSF battle networks, do it *now!* We probably have less than---"

"Too late."

Kissler's words were only murmured, but they instantly silenced not only Doctor Edwards, but a dozen other hushed conversations in the room as all eyes turned once again to the main screen.

Fixed, like rivets, on the diagram of the Barrier's inexorable circular traversal.

Watched, in silent horror, as that traversal began to accelerate wildly.

To call the Platforms Barrier Retarders was a taxonomic misstep. In many ways they would have best been described as Momentum Deferral devices.

But the EarthGov had preferred 'Barrier Retarders' based on the results of focus group studies.

It provided a better sense of continuity and security to populations. 'Deferral' implied that a debt was building up, and would one day have to be paid back.

True as that fact of physics was, it was something the EarthGov had demanded be kept to academic and military circles, and out of the public newsmedia.

Virtually no one in the path of the ravenous energy membrane had even the slightest idea of what had just happened to them as they were abruptly devoured by the energy discontinuity, their cellular structure rejected at the quantum level by Equestria's space-time, like a disallowed program seized and eradicated by a security firewall AI.

One moment the Barrier was moving at its nominally accepted creep, devouring centimeters of land at a time. Inexorable. Patient.

Yet contained.

Tamed, or so it seemed.

The next, as the final effects of the Barrier Retarders finally dissipated, and the wild energy fluctuations of proximate Nuclear detonations were absorbed, the Barrier's momentum, deferred for three long years, began its inexorable snap-back.

Three years of progress held back came unstuck in a matter of seconds. A quantum tectonic shift of seven hundred and thirty kilometers, like a subduction zone hung on an outcropping of particularly tough granite finally breaking free after a decade of storing energy.

The Barrier rushed forward at 144 Mach, its outer edge jumping out the previously deferred seven hundred thirty kilometers in just fifteen seconds.

The thunderclap of displaced air was so tremendous that cities which suddenly found themselves mere kilometers, or meters from the Barrier's new position also found themselves without any functioning windows, or eardrums.

Every single square meter of land, vehicle, Human being, and Humanmade structure in the disaster zone ceased to exist instantaneously. In their place, on the Equestrian side of the Barrier, an enormous amount of new land, complete with trees, grass, ocean, and wildlife.

Natives and Converts alike in the disaster zone felt a sudden tingling rush, and then a gut wrenching sense of displacement that left many gasping for breath. Distances of just a few meters between friends and family were multiplied almost exponentially.

Those standing side by side were left deposited in tossing waves, or atop mountain peaks, or nestled between evergreens, within shouting distance of each other, but not much else.

Those wearing JRSF gear, or Human made textiles, whether for fashion, or decoration, found themselves abruptly inflicted with second and third degree burns as the Terran materials sublimated violently into their base carbons.

Any distance of more than a few dozen meters became dozens of kilometers.

Those who were whole cities away from each other were suddenly half a continental mass separated.

Hundreds of thousands of Ponies, Gryphons, Zebra, Diamond Dogs, and even a few Dragons, and Buffalo, abruptly found themselves standing amidst pristine, untouched, virgin nature.

The over six hundred million Humans that had stood by them, or been fighting against, and beside them, seared away in an instant of brilliance, with only a 'POP' and the acrid smell of burning left to mark their passage.

"Nuclear detonation sites: Mumbai. Portland. Tucson. Kabul. Bucharest. Jakarta. Estimated casualties: Sixty five million."

Sorven could hear only her breathing, her heartbeat, and the voice of the facility's central AI. All else was awash in the burning, throbbing sensation of blood pumping through the vessels around her ears at a scathing pace.

The General watched, unable to look away, unable to cry, unable to speak, or even to form thought as cogent internal words, as the circle of the Barrier finally slowed, arresting its hypersonic march back down to a more nominal pre-Retarder speed just outside Lucerne, Frankfurt, Knoxville, and Cincinnati.

The Facility AI spoke once more in a harsh nasal atonal note.

"Barrier Impact and loss of all Military and Civilian Signals: London. Cambridge. Brighton. Paris. Caracas. Amsterdam. Barcelona. Algiers. Lyon. Brussels. Antwerp. Paramaribo. Georgetown. Belem. Sao Luis. Macapa. San Juan. Port au Prince. Holguin. Nassau. Fort Lauderdale. Jacksonville. Savannah. Augusta. Fayetteville. Charlotte. Huntington. Pittsburgh. Bamako. Conakry. Estimated casualties: Six hundred and ninety million."

Sorven finally felt something besides an aching hollowness. A sudden upwelling. Forceful. Swift. Acidic.

She bent her head down towards a small trash can under her console and hurled violently, evacuating the contents of her stomach over, and over, and over, until finally all that was left was dry heaves, and a merciful undaming of a flood of tears, and anguished sobs.

From somewhere behind, an eerie, ear-piercing sound issued from Seyal's beak; Something as loud, and forceful as a battle cry, but as forlorn and grieved as a mother screaming out for a lost child, or a sister for a lost sibling, or a child for a lost parent.

Sounds of abject grief and emotional wreckage were apparent from all quarters, except for Arnshekh. Somehow the ancient Golden Dragon was able to maintain almost perfect composure.

Some strangely prescient, sharp, active, awake part of Sorven's mind reasoned that it was probably his age, and experience. You couldn't be that many centuries old, connected to that much wild magic, and not have a full command over yourself under any and all circumstances.

He cycled his headset over to the one-loop, and spoke in a perfectly level, commanding voice.

"Begin retaliatory bombardment, phase two. Start with all known Council safe-houses, the NorthAmerizone ground based communications hubs, and the Hexagon system. They need those more than we do."

After a moment's pause to allow the orders to disseminate, he continued unabated as Sorven pulled herself into an upright position, blew her nose on her sleeve, and began to try and take stock of the data on her console.

"Deploy SAR. Full mobilization. Concentrate on the areas of heaviest fighting, and the areas most badly affected by the Shenzhou impact. The ones that are still there, at any rate. No quarter remains in effect for Flag officers and Councilors, but all others are to be treated as safeguarded prisoners of war if they will lay down arms at first warning. Civilians of all species are to be treated as refugees with priority protected status."

Sorven finally managed to bring her shaking hand up to her own headset, selecting the channel for ELINT and Cyber Ops.

"Send Chuck's red-level attack code across the network; Have him seize SatVision and lockout all other users. Anything EarthGov related that's still connected to SatVision, I want spiked and shredded."

Over her shoulder, Sorven heard Seyal call for her chief of staff. The General turned to see the Gryphoness clutching her beak above her nares in an expression of pure frustration, and sorrow, as she spoke to the lieutenant; A Human man who was visibly shaking as he did his best to hold back tears.

"Dispatch a message to the Equestrian War Council... They need to know what just happened here."

The man saluted, and nodded, waiting for Seyal to elaborate. The Gryphoness finally looked up, and the fire in her eyes gave Sorven both a sense of frigid terror, and of warm, sickly sweet courage.

"Tell them... Tell them that planetary stability has collapsed. Tell them the EarthGov just killed seven hundred thirty million people. Tell them that we're at war."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 15th, Gregorian Calendar

The mauve thrum of the Nightmare's unfettered joy sang throughout the Void like high voltage down a trillion copper wires.

A million images ripped from intercepted radio signals, or piped into the Void by infiltrator agents from their posts, laid out a symphony of destruction, chaos, and ruinous decay.

Here a city burned as a Nuclear weapon dispensed a dozen independent reentry vehicles into the atmosphere over it. There JRSF aircraft strafed EarthGov Army L-RACs, killing the crews inside instantly even as their final volleys took flight headed towards the decks of JRSF carriers.
In one place Humans fought alongside the JRSF cutting a swathe through the EarthGov's military Police with abandon.

In another Human Civllians took up arms and murdered the more vulnerable Natives and Converts of Equine persuasion in the streets, the gutters running red with blood let loose into daylight by automatic weapons fire.

JRSF battleships and destroyers fought valiantly to intercept and destroy Nuclear missiles, meeting with surprisingly high success rates, even as Dragons and Gryphons began to teach terrified Human field commanders the true meaning of unbounded warfare.

Here a Councilor screamed out as he was tortured to death by a squad of Gryphons in the public square in Hanoi. There an EAF plane dropped three thousand pound JDAMs and Napalm canisters on a wounded Dragon, killing not only the great thunder lizard, but three thousand of their own citizens in the process, before two Pegasi dropped an EF-4 tornado and an incessant series of lightning strikes on the entire EAF squadron, wiping it out in an instant.

A little over half a billion dead Humans was a small price.

Seven billion leftover, accounting for the quarter million that would die in the tertiary effects, would be more than enough.

And with their world choking on subzero temperatures, radioactive ash, and a total breakdown of communications, logistics, and power?

An escape would be welcome.

*Any* escape would be welcome.

And for the vast majority, there was but one singular escape.

The Nightmare grinned, as the Host cowed, her spirit shattered as the Void pumped image after image of savagery, hatred, and loss into her mind's eye.

That could not have possibly gone any better.

Chapter 33

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 34 Author's Note

WARNING:

This chapter contains multitudinous spoilers for Threshold. There is no guarantee I will ever finish that book, but answers to its plot threads are somewhat provided here.

If you're the type who would skip a chapter based purely on the off-chance that I'll rehabilitate and finish a years-old hiatus work, and you want that badly not to be spoiler'd... You've been warned.

My personal recommendation is that you're better off just reading this chapter and enjoying, but YMMV.

Chapter 34

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fifteenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Hutch

"Sometimes it's the little things that keep you sane."

At the sound of my voice William looked up from his coffee mug; His expression was the same kinda vacant stare I'd seen on far, far too many good soldiers before.

Pain. Shock. Exhaustion.

Most of all defeat.

It took him a second to realize I was talking about the steaming, glorious substance that filled both our mugs. Fyrenn, Neyla, Kephic, and Varan were busy around the kitchen's wall hearth, putting together something that smelled almost painfully good.

Since when had they learned to cook anyhow?

Aston had gone to find Taranis. IJ and Stan were cuddled up together in a corner, and Skye was talking in quiet tones with Shierel about something. Probably Alyra and Miles, who were sitting side by side at the table.

Alyra had a wing over Miles' back, and the colt looked like somebody who'd been yanked from a frozen lake, wrapped up in a warm towel. Like if you took Alyra's wing away, it might take some of his will to live away.

William caught sight of his son and Alyra, and I saw an instant spark of hope light up in his eyes. I smiled, and sipped my mug as he nodded, whispering almost to himself.

"Yes. The little things."

We sat there in silence for a while, sipping coffee, watching the cooking, and the conversations alternately. The warm light of the hearth danced on everyone's feathers and fur, casting it all in sharp relief, and cozy colors.

I'd never seen anything like it before. Let alone with the resolving power and color gamut of those new eyes...

Rolling the taste of coffee... Real, fresh, organic coffee from a plant grown in the ground, around in my beak... Closing my eyes and recalling the sensation of the little peck Aston had left on my cheek before she stepped out...

The memory of the warmest, calmest, most restful night's sleep I'd ever had, tucked up in her forelegs and wings...

My ear twitching as Fyrenn said something that made the others laugh out loud.

Opening my eyes and taking it all in again; The smile Shierel and Skye were sharing. The way Alyra looked down at Miles, like he had suddenly become a whole new, and critical part of her world. The grins and smiles of all the other Gryphons I loved so much gathered around that hearth... Even Varan was smiling in spite of himself...

The way seeing it all seemed to give William a new ember of life, small but steady, against the frigid certainty of all we'd just lost...

Maybe there were no 'little' things.

Not really.

Maybe every last little bit of the good things in life were each important in their own way. Good food. Good conversation. A funny joke. The warmth of a solid fire on the feathers of your chest to beat back the chill of winter that had seeped into the castle's stone.

The much, much deeper warmth down in your bones that only family could give.

"Do you regret leaving?"

The ex lieutenant's words shook me from my reverie. It took me only a few moments of real-time to formulate a good response. I tried my best to make it look like I hadn't spent some decelerated time considering my answer very, very carefully. I put on the same nonchalant tone I always defaulted to with combat buddies, or off-duty troops.

No ranks. No formalities. No seniority.

Just friends.

"Sometimes. But never for long. Not really."

The way he blinked back at me, and cocked his head, I knew for sure I was gonna have to put some more words to my thoughts. I could see just how badly he needed the encouragement.

I wasn't sure if he could also see just how badly I needed to say it aloud for other ears to hear, for my own sake.

A quick inhale of that heavenly sweet scent of joe gave me some strength, clarity, and another moment to collect myself. I took a quick sip, and started up again, keeping my eyes going back and forth between everyone else in the room.

"As horrible as things are on Earth... As much as we've just lost... I've seen more than enough to know two things."

I pivoted to face William and flicked out a talon from my free claw in time to each point I wanted to make.

"First? The more important war is *here.* Blood is being spilled. Tragedies are everywhere. But if we lose here? Nothing else will matter. Not a damn thing. I want to be where I can make the *biggest* difference. That's here."

He nodded once sharply, and confidently. He out of all of us probably had the least direct experience with the complexities of the events that had brought us all together. Hearing me affirm it out loud visibly gave him peace, and clarity.

I pressed on, flicking out a second talon, and gesturing with the mug in my other claw towards everyone else in the room writ-large.

"Second? My future is here. *Our* future is here. As a family. You, 'n me... The ladies that make us the luckiest undeserving sons-o-bitches in either world... The kids..."

We both stared in silence at Alyra and Miles for a moment, before both taking a quick sip of coffee in almost perfect synchronization. Some military habits die very, very hard. I couldn't resist a small chuckle.

"Hell... Fresh coffee?! How long ya think before the Genesists will actually have any of this good shit? And how long after that before the crops really take and they can stop rationing? Oh no. If we're gonna fight for our lives...?"

I shrugged with my wings, and took a deep, deep draught of the warm black liquid, then smiled. I didn't have to pretend; It was a real, genuine smile that went all the way to my ears, and my eyes, and my voice.

"...Might as well do it to the taste of the good stuff."

William nodded, returned the smile, and raised his mug.

"I'll drink to *that* sir."

I couldn't resist the urge to roll my eyes, and exhale in frustration. I flared my wings slightly, in spite of myself, and did my best to cut the harsh bark coming out of my beak with a grim chuckle.

"Godammit William... We're *family* now. And I ain't no soldier in no army no more... Not for the moment, anyhow."

He looked away. I reached out with one claw and took him by the shoulder. Firmly. Kindly. Like he was a kid brother, or another son of sorts.

When he finally locked eyes with me again, I stared him down, tryin' my damndest to project just how much I wanted to care for him, for no other reason than that pure and unconditional kinda love that Fyrenn just kept showing me.

This time I managed to keep my voice firm, but low, and gentle.

"It's *Hutch.* Just Hutch."

After a pause, he nodded, and grasped me briefly by the shoulder as well.

"Alright... As long as you call me 'Bill.' Just Bill."

I smiled again, and raised my mug.

"To the little things, Bill."

He stole a quick glance at his son, and I saw that genuine warmth appear in his expression again. His eyes brightened. His ears perked. The corners of his beak turned up. And for the first time all day, the smile finally reached his voice too.

"I'll drink to that. Hutch."

I had never set so much as a hoof on Earth.

When the collision of worlds first occurred, Chrysalis knew of it; Whether by magical attunement equivalent to an Alicorn's, or ancient technology still in her possession.

Most probably both.

That information had, eventually, warranted sharing with the entirety of the Hivemind. Earth represented, in Chrysalis' estimation, opportunities that were too good to pass up by half.

I wondered idly, not for the first time since recent revelations, if that interest had been fostered entirely by The Nightmare. It had certainly been given a helping hoof, at minimum. That much was blindingly obvious now.

With a small shiver, I pulled my eyes away from the sight of Alyra and the newcomer colt she had taken under her wing. Miles.

Alyra had become an unexpectedly bright anchorpoint of joy, and connection in my life. I made a mental note to see to it that I offered the same openness to Miles. I was seized with a sudden twin urging to expedite the founding of that relationship; On one wing the realization of how important Miles and Alyra had suddenly become to each other, and a need to foster connection with them to reinforce that for both their sakes.

On the other wing, the wholly unexpected, but not at all unpleasant sudden intense need to add to my small but slowly growing network of familial bonds.

After so much fear, and anguish, and self-recrimination, and hiding... It was as if something intensely elastic had finally snapped back into its natural shape. The strength of the bonds I shared with a few in this new family meant that I could safely trust them.

It was dawning on me, with increasing brightness, and a peculiar taste of hope, and contentment, that I could take that trust out another logical level; Whomever they trusted, I too could trust.

Whomever they loved, might also love me, and be worth loving.

My eyes shifted to Stan.

He was curled up under one of my wings, pressed into my side as we shared a huge cushion in the kitchen's corner, a cider mug clutched between both front hooves. I had ever so slightly softened the material of the chitin at my side, and altered the normally insulating efficiency-oriented properties of my innards and chitin to allow more Equine-like warmth to pass from me to him.

After quite a few tears shed, he had at last settled into a meta-stable state of quiet melancholy, and shock. I could feel it radiating off of him, as if someone had brought a block of solid sub-zero ice into an average temperature room.

I could shed no tears for Earth.

It was not, as some might readily attribute to me on first judgment, callousness. In spite of a general sensation deep down that the Humans had at long last got exactly what they were asking for in their foolishness, and richly deserved in some limited cases...

There was a far stronger sense of pain, and sadness on their behalf. But not enough for tears. I simply lacked the depth of experience to feel deprived, or pained, to the level of tears.

Changelings under Chrysalis are xenophobic and self-centered by nature. Inasmuch as I continued to struggle with, what Kephic had termed, an 'icy demeanor... ' I was quickly changing the way I saw the world, ever since my own liberation.

The surface level was, perhaps, going to be the last thing to change. Hence no tears.

But inwardly I was being suffused, more and more each day, with a sense of generosity, and empathy.

Inwardly, I was perhaps crying, in my own peculiar way.

I'd fought it briefly at first, mostly out of fear. For a creature that changes so much, a Changeling actually changes very little on an emotional, spiritual, or mental level. At least, under Chrysalis.

But free of that influence, my own self-identity, and the power of my familial and friend connections, had started to assert itself, in spite of the fear. Exactly like something elastic snapping back after years of undue pressure.

That empathy, focused through Stanley, and the other Terran Converts as well, had induced a strong sadness for the loss we were all suffering as a consequence of so many deaths, atop the sadness I felt simply on behalf of their own individual pains.

It didn't matter what species they were, in the end; All lives cut short are wounds to us all.

I felt that I finally fully understood why Celestia and Luna were so keenly protective of their own. It wasn't mere loyalty to their kind, though that was one brick in the foundation, and one I'd found all too easy to relate to.

But I now knew that it was much more than that.

It was a keen love for life itself, for life's own inherent sake, and value. Life of all kinds, whether sapient, or animal, or plant.

A love I was growing to share at last. I still found myself dazzled at times by the sight of a ladybug marching tirelessly up a windowsill, or a fern rustling in the breeze. Life underground was not so dissimilar to the way Stan, or the others, described life on Earth. Albeit even life in the Hive seemed to have more natural beauty.

For Stan especially, the twin shocks of learning of the Nightmare's plans for Converts, together with the horror of what had just happened to his former home...

It was piling ruin atop ruin, atop ruin, even breaking loose old emotional scar tissue from the ongoing slow motion disaster of Earth's inevitable envelopment.

Stan's words, the first in hours, and therefore surprising as they entered the void of dull murmurs and laughter that permeated my mental soundscape, were oddly synchronized to my threads of consideration.

"It didn't seem real until now. Ya know?"

He pierced me with an expression that very nearly did bring on tears of my own at last. His voice was so forlorn... So soft... So pained, as he began to finally pour himself out to me with words, instead of sobs.

"Even after I got my wings... Even after I started livin' here in Equestria full-time... Even after everythin' I saw, and experienced? The Wisps? The PER? The HLF? Watching New York go...? The end of the world just wasn't... Real. Until now."

He shook his head, shivered involuntarily, and then took a deep pull from the cider mug. Trying to hide tears as much as to warm and comfort himself.

A sudden thought struck me. Without even bothering to contemplate the maneuver, much less warn Stan, I reached for an old, familiar friend in the back of my mind. My Pegasus morph replaced my regal form in a shower of blue-green and white sparks and energy. Stan yelped, and the commotion briefly drew the eyes of everyone in the kitchen, before their various cognitive reactions took over for reflexive surprise.

Aside from some bemusement from those less familiar with my abilities, the response was universally warm smiles. That too was a refreshing change in my life... To be surrounded by those relatively unprejudiced against the fluidity of my nature. To even be close to those like Alyra, or Fyrenn, who viewed it not just with calm dispassion, but interest, and a love of what I was for its own sake, simply because they loved me.

I pulled Stan closer with one now feathery, and slightly smaller wing, until his head was buried fully in the fur of my neck, and our sides were pressed tightly.

He bit back tears, and nibbled gently at the joint of my neck, and withers. A small, silent, but heartfelt 'thank you' for my gesture. The radiance of his love was like adding oil soaked fuel to a blast furnace for me.

After a moment of relative silence, as the flow of other conversations and activities was restored to the rest of the kitchen, and Stan contented himself to match my breathing, and cry silently into my neck, he finally plucked up enough free air, and mental overhead, to continue speaking.

He moved his head to lock eyes with me again, and inhaled deeply.

"I... Never thought about... Just how many people were gonna die. No matter how this went."

I immediately understood this new and somewhat unexpected facet of his suffering. Changelings are intimately familiar with the wretched calculus of births, deaths, and in particular deaths versus objectives, and risks.

From my time with the others, it seemed to me that only Gryphons ever came close to a tenth part of understanding that math the way we did, on a truly holistic level. The way only a hive mind can comprehend the void of loss.

Humans were perhaps the worst at comprehending the magnitude of disaster, and the extreme measures needed to cope, with Ponies in close second.

I kept silent, and maintained my best attempt at a comforting expression as Stan went on, opening a new window for me to understand the uniquely Human concepts of status quo, and mental inertia.

"I think we all somehow thought that... I dunno. Maybe we didn't *really* think we could get everyone out alive. But we never thought anyone'd die either."

I had done my research. Mostly for the sake of understanding my new family better, but also out of raw curiosity, and a desire to be a more well informed leader to my people.

Given the way Humans had always treated disasters, everything from global wars, to climatological disaster of their own making, I realized I should have foreseen my beloved's struggle.

Their history was replete with last minute 'too little too late' actions to avert crises, or recover from them, primarily because the dominant configurations of their societies had a critical flaw that introduced almost inescapable group-think, keeping them blind to disaster, or apathetic to it, until it directly and personally affected them.

" 'S a Human thing, I 'spose. 'Ya' don't have to leave, but ya' can't stay here.' Change doesn't exactly come easy to some of us."

I placed my forehead against his, and sighed.

Diseases. Famines. Overgrowth. Pollution. Genocides.

How many billions in their history were dead because of the lies they told themselves, and change they resisted violently?

War. Famine. Overgrowth again...

How many billions in the history of *my* kind were dead because of the same lies and resistance to change?

I blinked, and pulled back as a brighter thought struck me. An unusual occurrence, but steadily becoming less unusual the more time I spent around Stan.

It slipped out between my lips before I'd quite finished considering it. But I didn't regret saying it aloud.

"Some of you certainly know how to make good of change."

Stan's moment of confusion, clearly visible on his muzzle, gave me time to fully form the rest of the thought into spoken word.

"You one-form one-minds have a strange conception of time, lacking direct access to your forebears' memories. You are so quick to forget the wider context of history. What Humans call deep-time."

He nodded silently, his face locked into a serious, and curious expression, one ear perked, the other drooping slightly, eyes bright and fixated almost unblinkingly on me as I did my best to shape my ideas into something comforting, and express them in a kind tone.

"You are even quick to forget the context, and weight, of moments in your own past. Especially the good ones."

I planted a soft kiss between his eyes, and then held my head to his once more, whispering to him as he thrummed in his chest, and pressed into my side.

"You feel such a sense of defeat in this moment. Personally. But it is unwarranted."

I began to brush his back with my wing, nipping around one of his ears, and continuing on in an almost inaudible whisper.

"We have all accomplished much together. Not the least part being an open door for my kind, where there was once nothing but hopelessness. In that, and many other victories, that have saved, and bettered lives... *You* have had a critical hoof."

He exhaled deeply, shuddering slightly with the aftershocks of previous sobs. I held my head to the side of his and groomed his neck, raising my voice from a whisper to a murmur.

"Whether fighting, or writing, or speaking, or puzzling out a question. You have made a difference. Countless times. In ways other Humans and Ponies could not, or would not."

At last I pulled back, and released a smile that had been building for several moments, warmth suffusing my chest as he smiled back in turn through silent tears.

I nodded towards him, and touched the tip of my muzzle to his as I capped off my attempt at restoring some of his emotional balance, with an admission that I would have once eschewed, but now embraced.

"You are *the* most important difference in my life."

He closed his eyes, learned in, and kissed me for a long moment, before finally responding with words of his own.

"I love you. So much."

I pulled his head under mine with one hoof, and we both shifted to a slightly more comfortable position as I murmured one last time in his ear.

"I love you too. And our love will be more than enough to get through this. For the both of us."

Aston

Flying on your own wings is *the* best sensation physically possible, in any form, no matter who, or what you are.

Anyone who says different is either a lying liar who lies, or has never flown on their own two wings, most likely because they are in the deeply pitiable position of not having wings to begin with.

I would never say that to the face of anyone without wings... But Make no mistake, I believe it down in my soul unreservedly. Beings without wings got the short end of the biological stick. Mistakes were made, whether on their part, or that of whomever created them.

God? If that's you? I have a *bone* to pick with you about the Human shape. If it was someone else down the chain? Well... I hope whoever it was, they suffered from their poor life choices.

I'd trade just about anything to replace all those years fighting bullshit fucking Human sinuses, paper thin Human skin, weak Human muscles, and completely useless Human bones, for years with wings.

Sure... I'm biased.

Doesn't mean the sentiment is untrue.

Magic? You can have it. Don't care. Not interested.

The sensations of Human skin? Garbage. Doesn't do anything fur and feathers don't do, does what it does do worse, and can't keep up in any meaningful way with the things that fur and feathers do which skin can't.

Physical intimacy of the reproductive organ related nature?

Forget about it, because it ain't even worth remembering.

Absolutely nothing but a tiny ember at the end of a wet matchstick, compared to the roaring fusion drive of tucking into a two hundred kph stoop with a gust of wind behind you.

Hutch and I hadn't flown much at all before the trip to Canterlot. On the way, we'd practiced as much as we could get away with, and Shierel's tutelage had been invaluable.

But this was the first time I'd had a chance to test my physical limits, alone, and on no one's timetable, and without any specific focus other than 'FLY!'

A castle of many spires on a majestic mountainside is a heck of a playground for something with the agility of a Gryphon. Sure, a Pegasus is 'agile' as compared to a fighter jet. Or even a Human in a thruster suit.

Dragons are incredible in many ways, and quite flexible for their size... I'd never want to pit a VTOL against one, the VTOL would lose. Badly.

But a Gryphon?

When we put our minds to it, we can fit through spaces that should, by all accounts, be impossible, at speeds that would make a fighter jock's eyes water, given the close quarters.

We can turn one eighty in less time than it takes you to think it, inside a space as small as our body can fit with the wings and other limbs folded and held close.

And we can do it at any amount of negative or positive G, around any obstacle you can imagine, and from any speed we are capable of, and we never get confused as to what is 'up' and what is 'north.'

Ever.

I know, because I did the incredibly stupid maneuever to test it for myself. Well... Not stupid if you're experienced. I wasn't. I was just lucky. Or blessed with a damn good guardian angel.

Three hundred kph from a stoop, directly into a bell-tower with only one way in and out, while the bell was being rung, with no room to fully extend my wings, one-eighty right below the bell, using the clapper as my 'post' to go around, and then out with around two fifty kph of that speed still on me.

All that in between tolls of the bell to avoid crushing my hearing.

I just about pulled a muscle and dislocated a shoulder.

Just about.

So very worth it.

After that, I took fewer risks, and pushed a little less hard. Now that I knew what I *could* do, I was satisfied to just... Play. For lack of a better term. Zipping under bridges, slaloming between spires, trying out aircraft aerobatic maneuver chains with the added benefit of having the control surfaces linked right to my brain...

And all of it in the cool night air, by the light of Luna's moon, and the stars.

Damn.

The way that fresh, clean, cold air felt between my feathers... The way it *smelled.*

The loss of the smell of pine trees, in snow, with wafts of fresh baking cutting through it all periodically...

I genuinely believe that was a greater loss for the Human race than the loss of any city.

A greater gift regained than any preservation of art, or culture.

Valuable as those things are... Life starts to turn gray and meaningless without nature in it.

Being exposed to it every waking second... It was an inexplicable revelation. I literally lacked half the useful words. Or if I knew them, I didn't know how to use them. You have no idea what you lack in life until you're exposed to it.

To Hell with the luxuries of money, and technology.

Damn it all and let it burn.

Five seconds of Hutch's beak run through my crest, or salt spray against my chest, or the smell of fresh baked bread, or the wind through the pines... Or the sight of real stars...

Fuck your couch, fuck your marable counters, fuck your stainless steel induction range, and fuck your gold plated jacuzzi on your fuck-off five deck yacht.

A *lifetime* of Earth's greatest luxuries would be jack shit compared to five seconds of *living.*

And now that I knew that?

I was never, but never, going to take it for granted ever again.

I also knew that I had a job to do, and couldn't cavort forever, as fun as it was, and as amusing as the Canterlot denizen's awed and confused upward gazes were.

I'd figured out where Taranis was almost immediately. I'll just bet he saw me too; Dragon eyes are not Gryphon eyes, but they are no joke. They'll still beat the optics and AIs of a Scythe, no-contest.

Bet that thermal vision is nifty too. Seeing your enemy through a wall is not an advantage to be trifled with. I'd seen what they could do with that ability first hand. Er... Claw.

Still wouldn't trade it for being a Gryphon tho.

That, I admit, is more personal taste. Dragons fly too, so they meet and exceed the 'Laura Aston does-it-have-wings' testing threshold of good biological design.

Seeing a Dragon in flight sure is a majestic sight.

Seeing one curled up around the top of a tower, absorbing heat through the chimney, and stargazing?

I swear Taranis looked like something out of an old illustrated story book I used to read to myself as a kid.

As I dipped into a gentle turn towards him, it hit me that I looked a hell of a lot like a fairytale illustration myself.

By the time I alighted on the tiny section of free rooftop beside him, I was giggling almost uncontrollably just picturing what we must look like from a distance to anyone who wasn't used to this kind of sight.

Maybe you never quite got used to it.

I sure hoped I wouldn't. The sense of wonder was exquisite.

Taranis raised one eyecrest scale, and cocked his head, asking silently what the hell was wrong with me for giggling like a little kid.

Well... I settled myself, mentally and physically, and watched his enormous blue muzzle and piercing eyes for a moment. No... Not 'wrong' with me... Just 'What's so funny?' I guess there was nothing wrong about it, come to think of it.

Laughter is one heck of a good drug.

I sighed, smiled, and gestured first to him, then me, then the sky.

"Could you have ever imagined all this? In your wildest dreams? Before?"

It was his turn to smile, and then chuckle; A deep, brief, but warm thrum down in his chest that shook the roof. He shook his head, staring out at the horizon for a long moment before replying.

"Never. I was a very... Practical man. A soldier. A leader. A survivor. I did not give myself time to dream. Not in any meaningful way that could have produced an image as vivid as this. More is the pity, and the fault is mine alone. Having lived this way for more than a decade now? I feel that those who can not dream of something like this have suffered a great loss in their soul. There is great practicality, and value, in dreams."

I nodded, following his eye-line as I spoke, out to the spot where far off ridges met the cascade of gem-like distant stellar bodies, burning softly against the blues, blacks, greens, and purples of space.

"That's not your fault alone. You and I grew up in a reality so far removed from all this... From everything that matters to having a *good* life... How can you dream when it takes everything in you just to survive? That's the Nightmare's fault, first and foremost, at the end of the day."

Taranis nodded, and thrummed assent in his chest once more, folding his forelegs under his chin, and blinking thoughtfully.

"Her name is apt. She transformed our world into a living nightmare. And she hopes now to do the same for all who draw breath."

I watched something in his expression shift subtly, and I tilted my head, almost as a reflex, biting back the impulse to speak. Hoping he would. And he did.

"I was there."

I blinked in confusion, and he looked up to lock eyes with me as I began to put the pieces together rapidly, based on what little I knew of his service history, even as he elaborated in a somber, yet somehow matter-of-fact tone.

"I was there fifteen... Almost sixteen years ago, now... I was one of the ranking military officers on site when the collision occurred. The anomaly. That then grew to become the bubble."

There was something spectacularly unnerving about seeing such a huge, unshakeable, powerful behemoth of a creature speak about something in such a reverent key.

A small exhalation was all I gave by way of answer, waiting for him to go on. Willing him to go on. Those kinds of recountings were invaluable perspectives. He'd witnessed something, directly, that I had only seen from afar. Something that had shaped the life of every single thing in both worlds.

"I was so close, that I almost became casualty number one. And the egghead would have been number two. I wonder if I'll ever see him again... He would be here, somewhere... Living that quiet life he always wanted. As far from his old name as he could possibly get."

I could put two and two together well enough to understand about half of Taranis' mumbled rememberings. I raised one eye crest, and flicked my right ear in irritation. He grinned, shook his head, and let out a small puff of steam. But he did elaborate further. Miraculously.

"Doctor Thornton. Lawrence. He was there studying the anomaly on behalf of the Council. Genius. Idiot."

Before I could even begin to start making sense of Taranis' visible, and audible emotional response to the memories, his tone took an unexpectedly warm... Melancholy turn.

"And a good friend."

I bit back any questions I had. And I had a few hundred thousand.

Reports from individuals directly involved with first contact were few, and far between. There was a lot of mystery, and rumor, and hearsay still associated with those early days. I was not about to put a stop to Taranis now.

He adjusted his head and forelegs, and sighed deeply.

"If Innara is still kicking around, counting myself, and Samanth... Cal. She always preferred Cal... Only about a dozen living souls know that Lawrence... He and Cal... Were the first."

I couldn't resist slowly cocking my head, my left ear straight as a flagpole as curiosity got the better of me. The blue Dragon locked eyes with me again, and said just two words for clarification.

"First Converts."

My whole conception of history imploded violently. Or at least, history with regards to the most important events of the century. I would have stammered, but I couldn't even get air into my nares. Somewhere about half ways through my brain trying to leap ahead at lightspeed and work out all the implications of his words, Taranis mercifully took pity on me and launched into a deeper, almost mournful explanation.

I could feel chills developing in my spine, tail, and wing edges as he spoke.

"As I said, he was a genius. And an idiot. Most particularly in the political arena, as to that latter trait. He met up with a brilliant, but... Unstable mage. During, and after first contact. It was as if the stars aligned to bring them together."

My emotions got the better of me and I finally managed to get my voice back; Low, full of awe. I couldn't resist shaking my head slowly as I whispered my thoughts aloud.

"I was always told that Conversion was pioneered by a large team made up of both scientists and mages... Their names were never shared... To protect their privacy... And program security... Because of all the controversy..."

Taranis snorted, rolled his eyes, and then exhaled a deep, sad breath of preparation. And remembrance.

"That is only half un-truth. I am quite certain that after Flux and Thornton allowed that Djin out of its bottle, that Innara and Celestia both wanted their work checked, double checked, and then checked again. Especially after what happened to Thornton and Cal. And Flux. And Ralph..."

When he had said 'Innara' the first time, a thread had clicked into place in my head. A historical file. An image. A vivid memory of a brief meeting with the woman herself, for a few minutes, at some sort of military function.

"Innara... You mean former Councilor Sulerahmen?"

I didn't realize I'd asked aloud, until I'd already done it. Something in Taranis' face, deep down behind his eyes, told me that I'd hit on the truth, even before he spoke.

"The Councilor was, behind the curtain, probably most primarily responsible for ensuring that first contact went amicably from a political standpoint. In spite of everything that occurred, and all of EarthGov's efforts to the contrary. She was also the key sponsor for the initial Conversion programs."

Taranis' gaze went back to the horizon. This time almost searching, rather than remembering. As if in focing hard with his eyes, he might find something. Or someone.

My response tumbled out as a breathless murmur.

"Official records say she died, and was buried in Washington Parish... But she always had something of a... Mystique, about her. There were always rumors."

The Dragon shook his head slowly, eyes still sweeping like LADAR arrays. His voice increasingly tinged with notes of nostalgia. And sorrow.

"All she wanted, in return for everything she sacrificed... Was to be the third Convert. Probably the only Conversion that Celestia was ever physically present for, in the same room. She took a new name, and Naval Intelligence quietly handled the rest. I would know her if I saw her, I suppose."

A long, long silence fell after that. I mulled over what I'd just heard. Little as it was, it completely reshaped my understanding of events. It was doubtful if there really were, as Taranis said, more than a dozen living beings who knew these secrets...

Finally my brain finished weaving together all the extrapolation it could manage, and I worked up the courage to prod a little. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"And... The others?"

It was relieving, how relatively quickly, and calmly Taranis shifted back into the flow of narrating the story. In his own mystical, almost stage drama, vague sort of way.

"Ralph Konem and Samantha Calton were Innara's right and left hand. They did for her what Wrenn did for Korvan; Protection, intimidation, and handling... Special circumstances. After contact, Thornton and Flux became special circumstances."

I nodded slowly. It didn't take much to understand just how much of a target the development of Conversion would have put on their heads... If the predecessors of Echelon 12, and the HLF, had gotten wind of it...

...Taranis' next words synchronized so directly with my train of thought, that it took physical effort to dismiss a darkly humorous chuckle on my part.

"Running from ExCET, Thornton and Cal got themselves cornered. The Barrier was the only way out that wasn't staring down the maw of a railgun, and that first batch of serum Thornton and Flux had made was the only card they had left to play. At the time they had no idea it would be an irreversible change."

I whistled, low and soft, through clenched beak. Almost too many implications in those three sentences to even begin to unpack in one night.

Taranis continued unabated.

"In the end they survived. I only learned about their adventure here afterwards. I killed a ship's bridge full of people to cover their escape. I was... Very occupied with the consequences of that decision for some time."

I'd heard a rumor. And heard Hutch and Taranis occasionally toss around comments to the effect of what the latter had done to end his career as a Human officer... But hearing it in such red letter terms turned my stomach.

Reminded me entirely too much of things I'd seen Fyrenn do.

Things I hated to admit that I faulted him for less, and less, with each passing day.

I had to mentally shake myself and reacquire the thread of Taranis' narration, pushing past grim tailspins of thought and emotion to get at the pith of what he was trying to tell me.

Something he'd probably never told another living soul. Until now.

"Cal and Lawrence stuck together, as far as I know. Settled here with Celestia's royal backing, just like Innara. Land grant. New names... I suppose if they had foals, they would not even be foals anymore by now..."

His eyes swept across the city's outer wards. I followed his gaze and counted each family I could see in visible range. Watched countless parents and foals and yearlings moving towards dinner, or evening entertainment, or home for a warm cozy hearth...

"I was able to save Cal, and Thornton, in that moment... But it cost... Much more than my commission."

The way he says 'much more' brought my head back around, and my eyes to his, almost by magnetic force. He blinked, slowly, softly... I realized that he was holding back much deeper emotion. Doing a damn good job of it... But holding back nonetheless.

"Lana. Lieutenant Sorden. My lead VTOL pilot. My... Best and closest friend."

Something about the way he said those last words left me doubting. I had carried on a romance with a fellow officer more than long enough to infer... Quite a few things. If Taranis and Hutch had gotten as close as they had, they must be fairly alike.

It wasn't hard to guess that perhaps he and Lana had been a lot like Hutch and I.

But apparently not quite so happily ended...

Once again, Taranis opened his jaws to speak as if on cue.

"Her fate was... Much worse than death. She chose to place loyalty to the EarthGov over all else. We never reconciled after what I did."

It was my turn to fight back emotion. An unexpected onset of silent, gentle tears. I blinked furiously, and shook my head, leaning forward, and making no effort to remove the hint of insistence from my voice.

"And... You never looked for her? Even after...?"

He smiled then. Not a happy smile. A deep expression of ennui and longing. His voice dipped to the most Human, and most emotional register I'd heard from him since meeting him.

"Ignorance is a salve. A sweet opiate that allows me to indulge the fantasy that she perhaps made good of her life in the end, and managed to find reason to Convert, come here... Settle herself..."

He didn't know it, but at that exact moment I found myself a new mission. For me... For people like me, and Hutch, most of the others too... There is always a mission. Usually more than one.

Sure I had plenty to think about in the here and now.

And more than plenty of reasons to survive the war. To win.

But now I had one more reason for the pile.

I was going to find Lana Sorden.

Dead or alive.

And if the latter, and if required, beat some sense into her damn fool head by way of a steel nine eighths inch wrench.

This time I fought hard to keep my emotions off my face. The ears were the hardest to corral, but I managed it in the end. Either Taranis didn't notice outright, or he was too busy with thought, and memory, to pick up on any telltale signs that I failed to suppress.

Either way his voice was so raw, and vulnerable... Yet somehow so stable. Resigned.

"I lost Lana. Konem and Flux both lost people as well. Before. And during the crisis. No one could ever seem to pin them down after the first public announcements. I fell out of touch with the investigation. That comes with the territory... Being discharged, and whatnot..."

He snorted before continuing. Amusement, yes, but not joyful. Grim. The sort of gallows humor of watching a forewarned storm crush those arrogant enough to try and withstand it, rather than get out of the way.

"...An old acquaintance of mine did find a few scraps of data on their post-contact movements. Nothing actionable enough for EarthGov to do anything. But enough to find it worthwhile to ask me quite a few questions. And from those questions, I gathered more than enough to surmise."

A horrible knotted twist developed in the pit of my gut. It was like I could foresee what he was going to say right before he said it. But my beak stayed welded shut, by force of shock mostly, as he vocalized what I had already begun to guess.

"I can hardly blame them for suppressing it. How would people feel if they knew the PER was originally founded by an EarthGov agent, and one of Celestia's court mages? And a chief architect of Conversion at that."

There it was.

It made so much... *Sense,* after hearing everything he'd said...

Given what he knew? What he'd seen?

It was a wonder Taranis, ex Marine George Fried Puller, was still alive.

My wonderment, and ashen shock, finally got up through my throat and into my beak.

"God *damn.*"

Taranis nodded slowly, paying for a moment of silent reflection, before bringing the thread of the tale back to his own life's story.

"Innara wanted to do something for me, before she left... But the nanite treatments keeping my cancer at bay made me fundamentally... Fatally... Incompatible with Ponification serum. I had supposed that was that. I would die like Moses. Seeing the promised land. But never setting foot in it."

I couldn't resist a smile as he chuckled again, but this time with a visible and audible warmth, and happiness. The sound and expression of remembering an old friend.

"But that magnificent creature... She never knew a problem that she could not solve unconventionally. Never once."

He raised an eye crest scale, and looked over at me with an almost-smile. I smiled back outright as he put the last of the pieces together for me.

"Can you imagine my shock when I was approached by the Draconic ambassador, bearing a letter signed by Innara..."

Taranis shook his head slowly, as if still in disbelief all these years later, forging ahead with only a little pause to contemplate here and there.

"She earned his trust. In turn, she asked that I be given... A chance."

I nodded. He didn't have to say anything else; I understood. But I didn't interrupt him as he spelled it out. It was good for us both, to hear it in his own words.

"Draconic serum, like Gryphon serum, is more potent than Equine serum. It was also fairly easy to see even from the early simulations that it would be... Uniquely dangerous. As you well know."

I offered only another silent nod for him to continue. He inclined his head. I caught the tiniest hint of gratitude on his muzzle.

"So they offered me a chance. To be a test subject."

He stretched, first his front legs, then his back legs, and then reseated his head on the former, eyes finally returning to the horizon again as he wrapped up the incredible tale.

"I survived. And now... I like to think that I am doing more than merely surviving. After many, many years of merely... Existing. I started to learn to live again. Little by little."

My eyes went back to the horizon as well, piercing the misty meniscus of atmospheric moisture lying between the tops of the most distant hills, and the edge of the sky. Another very long, silent, but not at all awkward moment passed.

It had never been puzzling as to why Hutch liked Taranis, and why Fyrenn had taken such an instantaneous shine to him. But now it made even more sense. And it made sense why he was growing so much on me, too.

He was one of us. Same kind of story. Same kind of pain. Same kind of drive to protect, and uplift.

He was... Just one of us.

That would have been the only way I could have described it aloud if you'd asked me.

I didn't say that out loud. Not in so many words. But at last, I was the one who broke the silence.

"Hutch would love to hear that. Fyrenn too."

He snorted again. Somehow Equestrian snorts, whether Gryphon, Dragon, or Pony seemed to have even more breath of emotion than the same Human gesture. This time the sound Taranis made was one of amused resignation.

I pressed ahead with a smile that reached my voice.

"Family makes a good foundation... For those of us who wanna start trying to..."

I couldn't resist a small wink as I threw his own words back at him. Great blue scaly lunk.

"...Live again."

The way his smile changed caught me off guard. Not amusement, or derision, or any number of deflecting emotions that I'd expected. Instead sadness, gratitude, and catharsis.

Well holy shit.

Apparently being in this new family was damn good for teaching old dogs new tricks. It was starting to become a catching trend.

I chuckled, and averted my eyes, changing the topic quickly and making a concerted effort to lighten the tone of my voice.

Thaaaat's entirely enough mushy emotional vulnerability. For the moment. I'd cried enough tears for one day.

"Speaking of which; They'll start to think we both found a better party and left them out to dry. So we'd best get a move along."

Taranis rose, stretched his wings, smiled, and gestured with one claw.

"By all means."

Fyrenn

Skye jumped ever so slightly when I brushed her with one wingtip. I winced, but didn't pull away. She grinned over one shoulder sheepishly as I reached over her head and placed the warm cider vat onto the table.

"Sorry. Still... Jumpy. Sometimes."

I nodded, and patted her gently on the shoulder with one claw. Just two brief taps. Baby steps with the physical connection. In spite of her emotion-filled moments of closer familial embrace with many of us, I'd certainly not failed to notice her occasional hesitation at contact.

And if I was inferring correctly, that wasn't all down to recent nightmares and traumas either.

I smiled warmly at her, completely cloaking my internal train of thought behind the mask of genuine love and comfort. Not for the first time I swore a thousand vengeances, and castration with a dirty railroad spike besides, on whoever was responsible for Skye's pain.

For my sister's pain.

I wanted to start a conversation... Something teritarilly related to how she might be coping with the horror of everything that had just happened... And then let that naturally change orbits into a direct discussion, and maybe a little catharsis...

But my plan was foiled by the arrival of Aston and Taranis.

Hutch got into a raucous backslapping contest with the Dragon, Aston popped open the enormous case of donuts that they had somehow acquired on their return journey, Kephic and Varan started bringing the rest of the food over from the heart...

And that was that.

For a good few minutes it was all pleasantly light banter, and jokes, and laughter, and the busy chaotic dance of a family around something that strongly resembled, in tone, and atmosphere, a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal.

Damn. Christmas.

That was coming up fast...

I smiled and thrummed deeply in my chest as Alyra caught me by one foreleg, and Neyla wrapped me from behind with her wings.

Damn.

This was going to be the best Christmas I'd ever had, at this rate.

And that was *with* the end of the worlds looming over our heads.

As we all managed to load up plates and mugs, and take up positions around the table, a somber silence fell. No one suggested it, nor put forward any kind of proposal, or even gesture to bring the silence...

It just... Happened.

A somber pause. Mutually agreed.

I scanned each downcast face in turn. All thirteen of them.

Taranis. Aston. Hutch. Stan. IJ. Skye. Kephic. Varan. Shierel. Miles. William.

Alyra.

Neyla.

There was grief.

There was remembrance.

And, most importantly...

There was hope.

I pressed my head up under Neyla's chin, and pulled Alyra tightly to my chest.

And just like that, the moment of reflection, and remembrance, was over.

The room exploded into motion again as we scrambled for seating, mixing haphazardly with each other as we found comfy positions on rungs, pillows, and stools, piloting heavily laden dishes and drinking steins over, under, and around each other until we'd all settled at last.

Relative quiet descended again as everyone tucked in; The inevitable need to eat after a period of grief-induced self-starvation. I knew it well. I'd done it a hundred times alone.

Never again.

Never alone again.

Alyra snatched a skewer of broiled shrimp... How the hell had we gotten those here in Canterlot? From off of Varan's plate, and took a beak-first dive under his right wing, threading past Taranis, and over IJ, to alight beside me with her spoils.

She nestled in close to me again, smiled radiantly, and spoke around her first beakfuls of seafood.

"So... We're gonna do this all the time now... Right?"

I raised an eye crest, and made a mock glower down at her. She shouldn't talk with her beak full. Not that it much mattered for someone with a syrinx, but the reflex to open and close the beak to talk was very real, and provided a very nasty window onto what was happening to that shrimp as it was minced on the inner sharp secondary edge of the beak.

Our much better stand-in for teeth.

My expression did little but amuse her even more. My heart wasn't in it; At least, not as a reprimand, it wasn't.

I ruffled the feathers of her crest with one claw.

"Family dinner, you mean?"

She nodded. I took a long, slow sip from my cider mug, and scanned the room again. Thirteen joyful faces, each and every single one lost in the enjoyment of family, for a single blissful moment, forgetting the horrors of war.

"Oh. Hell yes."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 16th, Gregorian Calendar

Lindstrom did not need an analytics AI to tell him what even the most uneducated of eyes could have clearly discerned from the wall-sized stack of drone feeds.

And Lindstrom was anything but uneducated.

Nonetheless, he allowed the almost nasal, atonal, genderless voice to cite endless grim statistics and summaries as he trawled the feeds with his eyes. Each worse than the last.

Here an image of the stripped out hulk of Mumbai's central city core; Naught left but a gray ash cloud, forks of static electrical lightning, and soft gray radioactive snow gently falling betwixt the bone-like twisted remains of the strongest components of megaskyscrapers.

There a feed showing a refugee group being herded *away* from the road to a JRSF aid camp, at gunpoint, but EarthGov army forces, themselves only days away from starvation, judging by the anemic size of their logistics convoy.

In one corner a surveillance image of EarthGov officers. Dead. Stacked in neat, and growing rows as Gryphons moved to methodically, and humanely, yet clinically, and mercilessly execute them by firing squad.

Their subordinates were being marched in arrow-straight lines, armorless and weaponless, hands bound behind the backs of heads, feet shackled together on short carbon fiber wire leads.

Made to watch the fate they were being spared, as a kindness for accepting the first warning to surrender.

Soon to be set free, most likely. As long as they swore the right oaths. And their captors believed them.

But free into what?

A prison of ash. At best.

"Particulate count has reached critical threshold in upper atmosphere. Sunlight intake reduced from baseline by ninety seven point six percent. Radiation readings in primary affected NorthAmerizone territories from the Serranilla/Shenzhou Blast range from two hundred to four hundred millisieverts. Radioactive fallout from conventional nuclear strikes is appearing in Northeast Eurozone region, Southeast Asia region. Asia Pacific region. NorthAmerizone region. SouthAmerizone region. Maximum dosimeter readings in primary blast zones; Seven thousand millisieverts. Average readings equate to five thousand millisieverts."

Lindstrom did not need the overly helpful graphical overlays on the central holoscreen to tell him just how bad even five thousand millisieverts was. He had read more war simulation reports than, in his estimation, any Human alive.

The utter stupidity of what had just happened would seem to be facts in-evidence for that hypothesis.

Perhaps if anyone in Military Command had paid the slightest sliver of a damn to the data, they would have at minimum grasped the age old wisdom; No one can win a nuclear war.

If you added Equestrians to that mix...

In another corner of the screen, a firefight between an EarthGov Scalebuster unit, and a multispecies JRSF attack group raged.

There were Humans on both sides of that battle...

And in spite of the specific anti-Dragon equipment in their arsenal, the EarthGov was losing.

As always.

As they inevitably would in ninety nine out of a hundred engagements.

Not enough cybernetics, or heavy weaponry to fend off a military of equal numbers, acting from multiple better supplied bases, with multiple better equipped, better trained, and just... Better soldiers. Physically. At a raw biological level.

There was no competition.

E12 and the HLFs best efforts aside? There never had been.

And none of what those factions had produced remained available at-scale.

To make matters worse for the EarthGov troops, their very world was turning ever more hostile by the minute. Climatologically. Because of their own damn fool actions.

At five thousand millisieverts per hour, one in every two exposed Humans would die within weeks. One in every five thousand exposed Ponies within months. One in every hundred thousand exposed Gryphons might die slightly earlier than normal, if death in combat didn't take them first.

And that was assuming the Unicorns didn't have some sort of magical way to cleanse radiation once back in Equestria.

They probably did.

The Equestrians had every possible advantage.

Only the best heavy armor and mechanized strike suits provided the kind of radiation protection needed to survive long duration exposure to nuclear fallout for a standard Human.

There were a lot of troops moving through heavily irradiated fallout zones.

Unsheltered, unlike the majority of the civilians.

There would only be heavy armor, or a strike suit, for one out of every ten thousand of them. And even that would be useless if overexposed. And many surely would be.

Most would be.

Most Human troops, and a small but significant number of civilian survivors, would soon be facing a grim choice. The same choice as always. But with a new twist.

Convert.

Or die.

Not from a rail slug, or a Gryphon claw, or a Dragon's tooth.

Not even death from the interminable march of the Barrier.

But from the silent, oldest, and most primal killer of organic carbon based life.

Radiation.

Facing days or weeks of grueling suffering, ending inevitably in a horrendous death by total cellular breakdown, with many major medical centers obliterated, and the rest under JRSF control, scrambling madly and ten times overburdened?

Too clogged with triage cases to even contemplate treating enemy soldiers, when there were innocent civilians to tend to?

Millions would suddenly be finding out that it was certain explosive cell death, or a small cup of purple tangy nanite gelatin.

Lindstrom doubted very many of the poisoned would refuse Conversion, whatever the species, as long as it ended the hemorrhaging and the blisters.

As to the Dragons? Few that there were in the combat zone?

No one had found a radiation dosage that Dragons could not shrug off indefinitely, so trying to guess on that front seemed approximately as pointless as the sham 'war' that EarthGov still seemed desperately intent on carrying to its conclusion.

Or at least... What was left of EarthGov.

Yet another advantage to the Equestrians.

Specialized troops that could move right through the heart of radiation clouds. Unscathed. Undetectable. Unstoppable.

Lindstrom shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then swiped with one hand, collapsing the camera feeds to one side, and calling up a TacMap.

The ECP had fared well.

As 'well' as could be expected in a 'limited' global thermonuclear exchange, at any rate.

Their facilities were far from urban centers, deeply buried, and mercifully though most were coastal, all but one had been well outside any projected tsunami paths. And even the most impacted facility had reported no personnel casualties.

If they had been discovered, then no one had yet found the time, or impetus, to act on the information. Lindstrom was not naive, or childish enough to 'prefer' to think of the operation as remaining undiscovered.

It was a fifty-fifty chance.

Best not to play dice with the future.

He'd already begun preparations to move up the launches.

There was no future on this miserable rock anymore.

For anyone.

The ships they had, crammed with the people and supplies, and knowledge that they could, would have to be enough.

At very least, he mused, as he perused the faint smattering of remaining orbital tracks, the war had given them one advantage.

Everyone else was too busy trying to commit genocide to notice the ECP.

A few hours before, the JRSF had launched a massive anti-satellite barrage of railgun fire. Their Gryphon-based cyber warfare AI... 'Chuck' so called... Had crippled EarthGov command and control at a global level.

EarthGov had responded by rapidly decentralizing and quantum-encrypting whatever was left.

The JRSF had taken a 'scorched orbit' approach to stop any further orbital intelligence or C&C on EarthGov's part.

Kessler Syndrome was in full effect.

No one would ever be launching anything into orbit again. Not without the payload ending up looking like tinfoil swiss cheese.

No one, at any rate, except the Genesists, who had already launched two dozen small payloads on those fascinating 'Shrike' craft of theirs.

Probably command, control, and intelligence platforms.

ELINT seemed to think that the Genesist energy nano-armor was more than capable of plowing through orbital-velocity debris fields. Yet another advantage for team JRSF.

Pity ECP would not have time to study the technology further using Terran computers.

Further analysis would have to wait.

Lindstrom eyed the small map icon signifying Lucapa facility with a small, sad smile.

He wished them well. In all genuine honesty.

Their task had been gargantuan before. Now it would be all but intractable.

With luck, they might manage one more flight of ships, with the hulls they already had half completed. With luck.

Lots, and lots, of luck.

Lindstrom did not like to trust fate to luck.

'Better that fate be a thing that man makes.'

The ex-Councilor groaned, and massaged his temples, casting a wry glance at the DaTab on the situation room's main console, just out of arm's reach where he had slid it.

He was stalling, and he knew it.

The tablet's contents had to be dealt with.

Cam drummed his fingers on the console for a moment, then tapped a small practiced speed-dial beat against his earpiece to open a communication line.

"Do you still have the recovery beacon?"

The familiar voice came back from the other end, somehow all at once a mixture of professional, calm, collected, and yet the tiniest sliver of cocky. Requiem's constant trademark.

"It is getting fainter, but yes. We have local jamming setup. No one else is coming. What's the call? Save him? Or let him rot? The radiation in this area will kill him long before the starvation, or dehydration for that matter. Or so Korvan says the dosimeter tells him."

Lindstrom exhaled, and nodded to himself, his mind at last made up.

Never throw away a piece. Pawn or no. Distasteful or not.

"Begin recovery operations. Acquire, sedate, stabilize, and transport back here."

There was a half second pause, before an entirely expected query came back over the line.

"And if there are other survivors with the Councilor? High or low ranking?"

Lindstrom shook his head, and scratched under his chin, regarding the TacMap thoughtfully as he delivered his reply with absolute certainty.

"I only need Xaelus. If there are others with him? Terminate them."

Chapter 35

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 36

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventeenth Day, Celestial Calendar

Alyra

Dad was nervous, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. He has very different tells when he's nervous, and trying to hide it. When he isn't, he fiddles absently with something, anything, but preferably something mechanical or kinesthetic.

He does that when he's thinking too, but the energy is different. More relaxed; Like he's taking the thing apart and rebuilding it in his mind, or admiring the way the light plays off the surface.

When he's nervous, it's fidgety. Like he's just trying to put motion, and energy, into *something* so he doesn't start to spiral mentally.

He hadn't touched his donuts. I was on my fourth already. He seemed content to 'walk' the spoon that had come with his cup of coffee back and forth across the talons of his right claw. It made a satisfying little 'click clack' with each flip.

I don't think he even knew I was staring at him, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong. He was too busy watching raindrops on the diner's big glass windows. It had been pouring since before dawn; Rain sleet, and a little snow to boot.

Rain was something we both still found ourselves completely entranced by, more often than not.

On Earth, rain was almost always more acidic than not, and had a nasty kind of pallor. Snow and sleet too. In Equestria, it had a sharp, cold, fresh smell, and an achingly clear, clean aspect. The ways it reflected light as it ran down glass, even on a gray and somber day...

You take nothing for granted when you grew up in a lifeless concrete hellscape.

Every single thing about breathing the air of a living, vibrant world becomes precious. Beyond words.

You also tend not to take moments for granted when you grew up lonely, and frightened.

Mom and Dad didn't know it, but I'd seen them dozing together, wedding planning documents forgotten in a heap, a warm tangle of wings, and feathers, fur, and tails laid out in a heap on the cushions.

I couldn't help but smile at the memory.

I reached forward across the table, and tapped the side of Dad's coffee cup lightly. It was Gryphon-sized, amazingly. Apparently 'Pony Joe' stocked cutlery for all kinds in his diner; He had been cheerful, and even a little excited to see a couple of Gryphons in his establishment.

The rest of the morning crowd that had begun to filter in were more of a 'mixed bag.' Some were nonplussed, others were clearly a bit awed. And a few even turned up their muzzles.

Dad didn't seem to care.

Dad didn't even seem to notice, though I'll just bet he did. Gryphons notice everything. We can't turn it off. It's like asking a fluent speaker of a language to *not* read and understand written words put right in front of them.

The soft sound of my talons against ceramic brought him back to Equestria, from whatever weird, or dark place his mind had wandered to. He turned to look down at me, and smiled.

"Sorry. I'm... Not 'with it' this morning."

He took a long, slow sip of his coffee. I did the same. I blame him, solely and fully, for helping me to form *that* habit young.

I peered at him with a mock glower over the top of my mug as he finally took a bite of his first donut. He paused to savor the treat, rolled his eyes, and sighed, before giving me what I wanted.

"It's not the wedding. Not really. I..."

He let out something halfway between an exhale, and a small chuckle. Thinking about the wedding seemed to give him the same kind of 'warm fuzzies' that it was giving me. He shook his head slowly, cradling his mug in one claw, and turning back to face the window as he continued.

"...I feel a lot of *anticipation* about that. Maybe even a little nervous at the size of the guest list, and all the fol de rol that neither your Mother, or I, ever really wanted to deal with..."

After another short pause, he turned back and locked eyes with me, giving me his full attention.

"The truth is, I am worried about *today.*"

I nodded slowly. I had some idea where he was going now, but I wanted to hear the rest. Wanted him to feel like he could talk about the rest, for his own sake. I was relieved when he forged ahead after another sip of his drink.

"When the Kingdom's armies arrive, it's going to make a very big impression on the people of this city. There's gonna be a lot of nervous Ponies. But it's what they're bringing with them that gives me pause."

That sealed it for me. I nodded again, and took a short dive into my own coffee mug, using the brief lull in his unburdening to contemplate what he had said, and the general direction I knew the conversation was about to head in.

Dad did not disappoint. He never did. Philosophical to a fault. His eyes wandered back to the window, and the rain-soaked streets beyond.

"I used to think that technology could solve *any* problem. When I was your age?

He glanced at me with a small, sad smile that I returned, abruptly caught up trying to imagine what he would have looked like... What he would have *been* like at my age. His childhood had been so different from mine. We were as separated in that experience as any two beings could be, while still coming from the same planet.

He sighed, and stared down into his coffee, idly poking at the bubbles between the meniscus of the liquid, and the inner surface of the cup, murmuring softly all the while.

"Technology was an obsession for me at that age."

Dad looked up and pierced me with his gaze again. I could almost see flashes of memory playing out in his eyes as his tone firmed up, but his volume stayed low. Almost conspiratorial... Or perhaps penitent.

Though it was just an allusion to events he rarely discussed in detail, I had the sickening feeling that the horrors of murder at the behest of the Earth's government were horrors that we mutually knew all to welll.

"It wasn't until I started spec-ops work that I really began to understand what technology *means* to a society. And especially the ways it can hurt us."

He kept one claw on his mug, but reached out with the other to clasp one of mine, holding my gaze as if with a magnetic field as he went on.

"It wasn't until I saw what it was doing to us at a very personal level..."

He clenched his eyes shut for a brief moment. I knew what was playing out on the backs of his eyes. It was the same dark, acidic, blood-tinged memory that was flashing before my eyes. The image of a little girl with her spine laid open, stuck through with metal protrusions crawling, inside and out, with trillions of tiny machines...

I shivered. He did the same, and opened his eyes again. I half expected to see tears there. There were none... But his voice did crack ever so slightly.

"...I finally started to understand. At a deeper emotional level. Not just spout a hackneyed line about 'it can be good, and bad, it is what you make of it.' "

He squeezed my claw lovingly, then released it, and sat back, cradling his coffee to his chest feathers with all eight talons, and staring at an ephemeral point in space above my head. The tone of his voice turned deeply thoughtful, and measured.

"I started to understand that there is a red line. A threshold. When you cross it, the danger of self-annihilation, whether through WMD exchange, or through a civilization-ending mistake, whether instantaneous like a malfunctioning particle accelerator, or long-running, like greenhouse emissions..."

His eyes found mine again, and I saw something new in them that struck a chord of nervous, insistent energy in me. An urgency. As if he were suddenly desperate for me to understand the point he was building towards. As if the future depended on me understanding.

The same urgency found its way into his voice in a way that perked my ears.

"...That danger begins to outweigh any benefits you get from other applications of the technology. My whole life I though the 'degrowth' and 'ecosocialism' crowds were cracked, and off their shit..."

His eyes moved slowly away, briefly resting on each of the other occupants of the diner as he almost reverently completed the thought. All Ponies.

"...Until I saw how people lived over here. And with that perspective? The world I once knew turned from a technological paradise, to an ashen prison in my mind's eye. I could finally see the Earth for what it truly was. The dead, gray thing we had made of it."

His eyes ended back on his coffee, as if the answer to his agonizing was somewhere at the bottom of the vat of dark brown steaming liquid. Or maybe just a brief solace in its pleasant smell, and sight.

When he spoke again, he didn't look up. His voice dipped to an almost oracular register; Deep, calm, and very nearly regal... But also sad. And very, very certain.

"There is an old Cree prophecy; 'Only when the last tree has been cut down, the last fish been caught, and the last stream poisoned, will we realize... We cannot eat money.' "

I blinked slowly, and shivered again, looking quickly for that same solace in my own coffee cup. The grim, inescapable thought that the prophecy had, for Earth at least, come true, was not lost on either of us.

After a long sip of the hot liquid, I murmured aloud to myself.

"Is'e be-at'a na tìre taeoar n'an dai'on."

It was something old-Gryphic that they had taught me in school. 'The life of the land is the wellspring of the people.'

Dad nodded, and acknowledged me with an inclination of his head, and a visibly proud half-smile. A half-smile only because of the dour nature of our conversation, I knew.

He inhaled deeply, and then continued, going back to fiddling with the coffee cup spoon again as he did so.

"King Siidran once told me that he hoped the addition of the Human spirit to the Gryphon psyche might help us to learn to grow, and expand. Not just in thought, and culture... But in numbers... It wasn't until now that I started to understand that he, like almost everyone else, in both worlds, is wrong. About almost everything we do in the process of civilization building. About growth. About our future."

He looked up again, and gestured to the room with his eyes, and then his whole head.

"Everyone except the Ponies. Though even they're only half-right, I suppose. They still have money, even if it does come second to many things."

Dad snorted, in that way he always does when something is funny to him, in an ironic way.

"In our own way, we're halfway there too. Or we are when we're born. Or made."

He raised one eye-crest and his eyes settled back on me as he put down the coffee spoon, and began drumming his talons on the side of his mug.

"However we Gryphons were made originally? Whatever person, or force, or will imposed our shared limitations on us? They knew *exactly* what they were doing. And they were right about everything they chose to make us. And it would be a hell of a mistake to try to tinker with that balance in any significant way."

I nodded slowly, and silently. His words were a touch confusing at first, but by the second sentence I already had an idea how he was going to tie it all together. He stopped drumming his talons, sipped his coffee, and then sighed deeply.

"I used to wonder about the point of it all. Some of it seems obvious; The moral compunctions and action limitations are intended to keep us unified in our purpose as defenders of the innocent. Incorruptible guardians instead of unstoppable conquerors."

That much made sense. To everyone who had ever been, or talked to, a Gryphon. Even the best Human scientists agreed with the assessment. Dad's next words matched my train of thought, though that wasn't surprising. These issues were inevitably part of any discussion of our biology.

Dad held up one talon and waggled it slowly.

"But what about the other things? The set binary genders, the physical reproductive limitations, the almost palpable compulsion to *avoid* having large numbers of fledgelings that serves as a second 'soft' reproductive limiter... To the point that many couples don't ever choose to have them."

Any sociological or biological discussion of our kind always inevitably touched on these issues that were, bafflingly, controversial amongst Humans. I understood the base reasoning as to why the way we worked bothered some people... I just didn't understand why they wanted to blame us for something that was 'hard-wired' into our nature.

"Do you know what a replacement rate is?"

Dad's words shook me from my reverie, and I nodded, spouting off my own paraphrasing of the dictionary definition that I'd once seen on one of my stolen DaTabs years before.

"The reproductive numbers required to balance natural, and unnatural mortality to keep a population's numbers steady, at minimum."

He nodded once sharply in approval, pressing on without much pause as he got up a head of steam.

"We've always hovered at, or just below that threshold as a species. Going as far back as I can find."

He inclined his head again, and stared into my eyes as he got around to his conclusion at last.

"It finally hit me. Lying there with your mother this morning..."

Well. Apparently I hadn't gone as unnoticed as I'd thought.

Figures.

Mom's a good teacher. And no one, but *no one* gets past her.

Once again, Dad's words recrystallized my thoughts, and my focus, like a dash of cold water.

"The best possible theory I can come up with for all the structural constants that tie us to set binary genders, attractions, and resource-limited reproductive methods?"

I had some idea what he was going to say, right before he said it. He'd done a good job of laying out all the pieces. And I had plenty of my own half-formed speculations. Suddenly, even as he said it, everything came together.

I blurted it out before he could.

"Someone wanted to make sure we could never be a growth-focused species."

He nodded slowly, and raised his coffee mug, responding with just one word before taking a deep pull from the container.

"Exactly."

As soon as he'd finished his draught, he set the mug down, and began to drum his claws on the table, speaking in the same clipped, almost scientific tone of his previous single word response.

"Forced systemic limitations to ensure that we would avoid the growth trap. You ever hear of something called the 'Great Filter?' "

I shook my head. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I'd never heard anyone describe the principle outright. I knew it had something to do with astrophysics, or anthropology... Maybe both.

Dad elaborated.

"To make a long story short, statistical mathematics tells us that there *should* be a myriad of intelligent species all around us. In any universe. And at least some number of them should be sufficiently advanced to have made an impression on the world that we can detect."

I inclined my head, my words coming out as a strange hybrid of prodding question, and half-deduced certainty.

"But... Aside from Equestria..."

He nodded again, and stared out the window, his cadence never missing a beat.

"We haven't. That's called Fermi's paradox. The Great Filter is a proposed solution to the paradox."

I could see him tracing the routes of every drop on the window, simultaneously, scanning back and forth furiously, the pace of his eyes matching the pace of his thoughts. His words were slightly less frenetic, though perhaps no less energetic.

"It posits that there is a near-universal constant; A barrier. Something which all sapient life eventually runs up against, by its very nature, that leads near-inevitably to a totality of extinction. Something that snuffs a species out before it can reach the stars in ninety nine thousand out of a hundred thousand cases."

He sat back in his seat, and moved both claws back to the coffee mug, gripping it tightly to instill warmth in the digits as he paused to collect himself, before continuing in the same tone as before, but at a slightly slower, more somber rate.

"The Wars of Chaos nearly ended all life on this world. Not that different to the way that our own weapons nearly ended life on Earth dozens of times. Even our best efforts to help undo our climatological follies almost killed us. And now..."

We both shared a moment of pained silence, eyes averted from all else. The words were unspoken, but no less poignant; And now Humanity had finally succeeded in dealing itself a fatal wound.

Only time would tell if we could staunch the bleeding enough to save some survivors.

That horror seemed so far removed from the brightly lit, happy interior of the diner; At once nostalgic, and layered in the scents of sweet fresh hot food and drink.

Yet the horror *felt* paralyzingly close. Like some kind of hidden demon manifesting as a wisp of pale smoke over our shoulders. Watching. Waiting.

Dad sighed again, the deepest, slowest one yet, and inclined his head slightly. His voice had dropped back to an almost reverent, prophetic note.

"If I had seen my species make it through this kind of gauntlet? The hell that the survivors of Earth's last, and worst war will remember until their dying day?"

I filled in for him again as his theory began to coalesce for me once more.

"I'd do whatever I had to in order to make sure it never, ever happened again. No matter how advanced my species became."

He nodded, and seamlessly moved into his final thesis.

"If I were in the process of designing a new species? Well. I'd do whatever I could to ensure that they never got caught up in the Filter, based on my cultural understanding of it, and my opinions. Say, for the sake of the hypothesis... Make it endemically untenable for them to be growth-focused. Or conquest-minded. Or even materialistic. Limit the population. Focus the culture and mentality on one set kind of family structure, and program it to always be that way. Simplify and limit viewpoints to ensure permanent internal deconfliction on critical issues, and unconditional acceptance of fellow members of the species."

It was my turn to exhale slowly, and deeply, as the concept of engineering an entire species finally registered with me in all its enormity. Dad paused only briefly before pressing on towards his conclusion.

"Humanity's worst struggles have come out of either competition for resources, whether through greed, or desperation... Or from conflicts of ideology. If I wanted to make a species that was immune, or as close as could be, to both of those risk surfaces?"

I couldn't resist finishing his thought yet again. He paused as if he wanted me to, even, so I obliged, almost breathless at the weight of the concept.

"...You make them so that they *can't* have ideological disagreements severe enough to want to hurt each other. You make them empathetic. You force a set moral code on them. And you make it mentally unpalatable, and physically difficult, for them to be growth-focused."

He nodded sagely. I sat back in my own chair, and took another long sip of coffee, before murmuring aloud.

"Holy shit."

Auntie Skye was starting to be a bad influence on my vocabulary.

Dad's gaze and mine came together again, and I had to suppress the urge to shiver. His voice matched the hollow, dark void that seemed to have snuck up and subsumed the usual fire in the molten gold of his eyes.

"I'm frightened, Alyra. I'm frightened that we are disturbing the balance. In ways that should be left well enough alone."

He sighed, a deep sad sound of frustration, and resignation, pinching his nares between two talons.

"But I don't see how I have any choice at this point. We will either adapt, and advance... Or we'll lose."

I shook my head and reached out with one claw to grasp one of his forelegs. I squeezed insistently until he met my eyes again. I only spoke once I knew he was truly listening.

It was my turn to be urgent.

"I've seen some of your designs. I've seen other Human ideas, and technology begin to creep in, even in the short time I've been here... We aren't over that red line yet. Not even close."

I held his foreleg, and his gaze, for a long moment, making sure that what I was saying was resonating before driving my point home.

"If we don't win this war? We'll never get a chance to do it right. We have to make it to survival first. We can worry about how to thrive afterwards."

He nodded silently, and I released his foreleg. We both took another sip of our drinks, and he began to forlornly munch on his second donut, before I spoke again.

"Besides... I don't think we can avoid inventing things for the indefinite future. Anything that *can* be invented... Eventually..."

He sighed, inclined his head, and swallowed before finishing the axiom for me.

"Will be."

I dipped my head in the same way, and held up one insistent talon.

""Right. But we *do* have a choice, as far as how we use it. That's not trite, or hackneyed. Not in *this* context. In starting over? We have a chance to build the foundation in a way that changes our course entirely."

I dipped my head even further, placing my eyes in his line of sight again.

"All these things you fear? They come from the systems of the society we lived in. The feedback loops."

I sat back into a more comfortable position, and he kept eye contact, smiling. Sadly at first, but with increasing pride, and peace, as I finished my argument.

"We don't live in that hell anymore. We don't live on that planet anymore. We don't have to build things here the way they were built there. We can do it differently."

I held out one claw. He placed one of his much larger ones in it, and I squeezed lovingly.

"We can do it *right*."

His smile broadened, and the cloud that had hung over him finally seemed to dissipate. The warmth tinged his words, and I knew that I'd gotten through.

"If people like you are our future? I know we will."

It was my turn to smile. Sonya had been good to me. A good sister. In some ways a good mother. But she wasn't exactly brimming with compliments, and her primary goal had been protection. Even at the expense of growth.

Mom? Dad? Kephic, Varan, Skye, Stan? All of them... They were always so supportive. Complimentary. They called me on my flaws, but built me up on my strengths, both in ways I'd never experienced before.

It was fundamentally life-altering, and life-giving, in a way that's so hard to do any justice with words.

I hoped my expression conveyed my love, and gratitude. The radiance of Dad's smile told me that it did, and reciprocated in kind.

He snatched up the last donut, quaffed the last of his coffee in one gulp, and then removed a frankly obscenely large tip from his messenger bag, plunking it on the table with the soft 'thunk' of gold against oak as he stood.

"C'mon. Your Mother's wedding present is arriving with all the rest of the gear today... But it's missing the last piece. You fancy giving your wonderful aesthetic advice on a little shopping trip?"

I gulped down the last of my coffee, and jumped up, excitement rising in my chest.

"You're getting Mom a wedding gift?!"

He smirked, and shrugged with both shoulders, and wings, as he made for the door.

"Well... It was going to be for Hearths' Warming. But I've still got time to figure something else out for that. I didn't know I was going to come back from Earth an engaged man."

I chuckled, and exhaled softly as he pushed the door open, watching my breath crystalize in the cold wintry mix as a fog, before raising one eye crest, firing back a retort as we both stepped outside together.

"If you hadn't? Uncle Kephic and I were planning to beat you into submission."

He smiled again, almost brightly enough to beat back the clouds overhead. The rain began to hit us in earnest as we stepped out into the street, but it wasn't intense enough to get past the water resistant oils in our feathers and fur.

"I don't deserve you..."

I returned his smile silently again, at a loss for words. Sometimes it was hard to find words to express how much I loved him. Loved them all. He reached down and ruffled the feathers of my crest, between my ears, taking care not to create a path for water to get in and soak the skin.

"...But I would sure as hell never part with you. Justified beatings and all."

Skye

"You said this was urgent..."

I could feel my face light up when I saw Taranis at the door, and heard him speak. Finally! Someone who would understand! Or at least... I hoped so. If nothing else, someone I could force to share my torture.

Misery loves company.

I pulled the door wide, and gestured into my guest quarters with one hoof. I didn't bother to try and manufacture a polite tone, so my response came out half as urgency, half as mild annoyance.

"It *is.*"

I bounded back into the room, and stood with both front hooves against the side of the bed, glowering menacingly down at the offending object nestled inside a paper and fiberboard box.

Oh how I hated that damn thing. The sight of it was repulsive!

I gestured emphatically, and fixed Taranis with a sharp glare as he entered, glanced down at the blue and white lace dress within the box, and raised one eyecrest scale in clear confusion.

"I am *not* wearing this frufru nonsense to one of the most important days of our lives!"

My words didn't have quite the effect I was hoping for. Oh well. Company for my misery it would be then!

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow as I set my front hooves back on the floor, and Taranis spoke with the kind of dazed, bemused tone of a being that only ever wore combat armor, or nothing at all. The Gryphons had the same issue.

No fashion sense, whatsoever, outside of military hardware.

"Given the lack of stigma for going without clothing as a Pony, you are technically under no obligation to wear anything."

Wow. I really liked Taranis. But I'd hoped he would be at least a tiny bit less clueless about this specific venue of high society than every other being in my life. Ouch. Oh well...

I did nothing to hide my indignation. If anything, I did my best to make it painfully clear, both on my muzzle, and in my tone. *Somebody* was going to help me with my fashion crisis... Taranis was the lucky victim that was easy to-hoof.

"I am *not* showing up to this ceremony wearing the same nothing that I do every average day either!"

The big blue lunk rolled his eyes, and I had to put down the insistent urge to chuckle. It was a funny expression. He sighed inwardly, and gestured with one enormous claw.

"Then I fail to understand why you have asked me here. You do not wish to go in the dress the Royals have provided. Nor do you wish to go without clothing entirely---"

I waved a hoof dismissively, and it was my turn to sigh, and roll my eyes. Oh boy. This was going to be harder than I thought.

"Of *course* you would say that. You look awe inspiring and spectacular without anything on."

Well. Shit. A moment of silence descended. Taranis raised one eyecrest scale again. I grinned sheepishly, and backpedaled in as deadpan a way as I could. Dammit... That brain-mouth filter degradation was getting worse as I got older, not better. Figures.

"That came out wrong."

Oh thank sweet merciful heavens; Taranis inclined his head with that magnificent dispassion, and said the best possible thing to help stifle my embarrassment.

"Point still taken. I am not a clothing expert. I still fail to see why---"

Somehow, in spite of the immediate sense of relief that followed the sensation of abject panic and embarrassment, my brain-muzzle filter did not re-engage, and I blurted out my frustrated stream of consciousness right over the second half of his response.

"Because you are interesting! And a creative thinker! And a fighter at heart!"

Ok, ok... That could have been *much* worse! I levitated the dress box's cover in my thaumatic field, and gently reseated it over the dress. The gesture gave me a second to think about how to best follow-up my little outburst.

I sighed, and turned to lock eyes with the blue Dragon as I spoke up again, this time with a steadier, and less shouty tone.

It took a physical effort to keep from shivering; He was sure as hell easy on the eyes. And there's just something about being in the room with a creature so enormous... And lethal...

"I need you to help me to find something to wear. Something practical. But striking. Dramatic, but not overdone. Maybe even a bit martial. Just... Anything but this light-forsaken pile of lace and satin."

I could see he wasn't entirely convinced by the way he cocked his head ever-so-slightly. Right. Turn up the charm just a hair. *Just* a hair.

I stuck out my lower lip a tiny bit, widened my eyes, and matched the cant of his head, staring right into his eyes, and adding an exhausted, defeated, frustrated quaver to my voice that was only a tiny bit of an exaggeration.

"Please."

Taranis inhaled deeply, considering for a moment. That seemed to be his default response to just about anything outside of clutch battlefield moments; Careful, thoughtful, unhurried consideration. I guess a lifespan measured in potential millenia will do that to you.

When he finally opened his muzzle to respond, I knew I'd won, just from his expression.

"Very well."

Hah! Bingo.

Maybe today wasn't going to be an emotional spiral into depression after all!

I started to wave my hoof dismissively even as he hurried to qualify his acquiescence.

"But I haven't the foggiest idea where to start. I am only here to offer a critical eye, and scathing words of cut and dried advice."

I grinned, and nudged his shoulder with mine as I passed him on the way to the door. He couldn't resist a tiny smile in response. I gestured out into the hallway, throwing my words over my shoulder as I went.

"Perfect. It just so happens that I *do* have an idea where to start."

Taranis chuckled, very briefly, almost imperceptibly, and it was at that moment that I knew it was going to be a *good* day. His deadpan sarcastic retort took me by surprise as he followed me out into the corridor.

"The Palace armory?"

I smiled back over my shoulder, and shook my head. Stars above... his sense of humor was just fantastic.

"Not quite. Ever hear of a place called Canterlot Carousel?"

Kephic

There is something truly special about the practiced, smooth, deadly dance of warriors in formation. A kind of special bond of minds and bodies that defies conventional limitations of reflexes and coordination to turn the individuals of the group into seamless parts of a whole.

And it was undeniably comforting, and exhilarating, to see Ponies and Gryphons training together, filling the Castle's main courtyard in ranks upon ranks, defying the steady downpour of nasty frigid precipitation to put on a ballet of alloy, steel, and blades worthy of any storied epic.

Day Guards and Night Guards alike were clad in the new batches of enhanced alloy armor that would soon become the standard for all Equestrian military forces; Their absolute uniformity was offset by the asymmetry and uniqueness of the fifty High Guards' cladding.

"I can only hope that we will have more time. It seems like every hour our forces can train with your High Guard, they are ten times better prepared than the last."

Shining Armor's voice pulled my mind and thoughts back to our small group, standing on the Castle steps just above the choreographed mayhem below, a light steam rising from the parts of our fur and feathers that were exposed to the morning's precipitation.

The High Guard Captain nodded once curtly, a tiny grin tugging at the edges of her beak as she spoke in a very familiar tone.

N'sala was possessed of a disposition very much like Varan's, albeit somewhat less dispassionate on the whole.

They certainly shared the same sense of humor, and of dry, deadpan acceptance of whatever might happen in life, good or bad.

"They are swift to learn, and eager to serve. I will grant you that. Give it a few months... Your Royal Guard will make a fighting force the equal of anyone else on the continent, save ours."

My brother spoke next, as if somehow goaded by my unspoken thoughts of him.

"I hope we do indeed have that time. It could make the difference between victory, and defeat."

I blew a short, sharp breath upwards from my nares to clear a group of stray rain droplets that had begun to migrate from the tip of my helm onto my beak, and then added my own opinion to the pile.

"In either case? They will certainly be prepared to make the enemy pay for every inch of ground. Dearly."

The somber note of both the thought, and the way I'd spoken it, created a silence between us. The air was heavy with the sound of sleet, and clashing steel. And the silent, but somehow deafeningly heavy roar of existential consideration.

"Talking of happier things... While we still can..."

Varan was the first to stick his claw into the tension, slicing it apart neatly with that comforting tone of unworried, unhurried calm surety that had given me untold strength to go on. On more than one occasion.

He turned to face the rest of us as he mercifully proffered a query to fill our minds with the task of considering much, much happier things.

"...How are the wedding preparations coming along?"

N'Sala smiled outright, an ever so brief flash of genuine happiness, and nodded sharply again.

"I think we've worked out a routine that will not soon be forgotten. If there is one thing both your kind, and ours, know how to do without any added instruction, it is putting on good pageantry with armor and weapons."

Shining Armor shook his head slowly, and grinned, snorting to clear his nostrils of ice. The gesture sent a great gout of steam up from his muzzle. When he spoke, his breath came out as a cloud of fog.

"This will be a sight to remember."

N'Sala's next words threatened to undo Varan's good turn, and ruin the mood entirely. She missed it, or at minimum refused to acknowledge it, but I shot her through with a brief, but cold glare.

"Shame that the first time in living memory our nations get to do this together... May well be the last."

Again, to the surprise of everyone else, save me, Varan blocked the dark line of thought like a shield carrier deflecting a bolt with practiced ease.

"It will not be."

The rock-solid tone of his voice seemed to truly register with the others; Shining Armor and N'Sala both blinked back at Varan in silent surprise. I couldn't resist the urge to throw my weight in behind my brother's sentiment.

You have to believe you'll win. There is a difference between the foolishness of Hubris, and the absolute necessity of confidence. If you believe you're going to lose a fight? You'll find some way to make sure you do, in the end.

As I spoke, I turned my gaze back to the mock combatants in the courtyard. A small grin started at the corners of my own beak, in spite of all efforts to the contrary.

"If I were the betting sort... I'd bet on my brother. He's rarely wrong."

Fyrenn

The train drivers were treating the engine's horns like horns of war.

Force of habit I suppose, in spite of the fact that we Gryphons don't really need, nor commonly use war horns. That, or perhaps just a concession to the terrible visibility that day; It was pouring a slow steady wintry mix of rain and sleet, with an occasional far off thunderclap.

Regardless, the more I thought about it, the more the whole scene made a strange kind of sense. There was a historical poetry, and symmetry to the situation that both warmed my bones, and chilled my spine, somehow simultaneously; Two 'iron horses' with fire in their bellies, bearing the future of war inevitably towards us.

The chill suddenly overpowered the warmth, and I shivered.

I exhaled into the frosty, gray morning air, watching the dull sunlight backscatter through the fog of my breath, the droplets of rain, and the soft glint off the lead engine's window glass.

Technically, the trains weren't what you might call true Gryphon machines of war; We'd stolen them from a Diamond Dog pack known for its slaving operations.

'Stolen' is perhaps a poor word choice... We massacred them and strung their heads out on pikes, quartered the bodies, and shipped the pieces to each of the next-nearest packs as a warning.

The trains were just a bonus acquisition.

The Trolls had originally cobbled the machines together from boilers and drive components made by Ponies for their own passenger trains, sturdy industrial wheels and chassis forged by Yaks on commission, and haphazard armor plating and weapons of their own less-than-stellar make.

I'd seen to it personally that both engine vehicles were stripped down to their proverbial marrow bones, serviced and rebuilt with the usual Gryphic eye for quality and durability, and capped off with an entirely new skin of our best alloy plating, painted in thick coats of dull gunmetal gray.

Each engine bore a simple emblazoned Gryphic numeral; the equivalent of "01" and "02," alongside which some enterprising Gryphon had amusingly painted names.

"Ta'Andarra" and "Te'Aintea."

Thunder and Bonfire.

We'd had to rebuild most of the carriages as well, though more for the sake of accommodating our standard crate sizes, as well as a couple of entirely custom cars that took up the middle third of each consist.

Someone had bothered to slap 'good enough for military work' coats of the same dull gunmetal gray on the carriages, and white index sequences like "01-A01" and so forth, all down the line.

A few of the boxcars, both engines, and both cabooses had extra armor plating, and top-mounted revolving turrets holding a Gryphon apiece staring down the sights of a claw-cranked chemical round eight barrel fifty caliber belt fed gatling gun.

Above the train was a flock of Gryphons so large that it very nearly blotted out the morning's rain clouds with the forms of armored feathers and fur moving in perfectly arranged military parade formations.

Most of the soldiers in the thirty thousand strong army still wore their personal or family armor, and carried their claw-forged weapon of choice.

A few at the leading edge of the formation instead wore something wholly new; Mass produced standardized second-generation-alloy armor in the Kingdom's colors, with impact resistant hybrid gel layers, magnetic gear attachment hardpoints, angular projectile deflecting surfaces, and light flexible kevlar undergarments that covered and protected everything except the very tips of the tails, and the faces and beaks.

The latter didn't exactly need much protection, hard and resilient as our beaks were.

And to a one, new or old armor, each and every Gryphon sported a Thunderblade strapped to their back, and a munitions belt of preloaded eight shot fifty caliber reload clips slung across their breast.

The dull synchronized thud of their wingbeats was thunderous enough to compete with the weather itself, and with hiss-clank-thud of the locomotives; The Capital must have been practically emptied of all but its youngest, oldest, and a few additional defenders. And the same for every settlement for leagues besides.

Nearly the whole entire fighting force of our species, minus the defensive battalions, any who were absent to Earth, the youngest children, and the oldest elders. And most of them were probably armed and armored to defend their homes at that.

The imagery of mechanized warfare, new to Equestria at such scale, was clearly not lost on any of my companions.

Skye whistled appreciatively. Stan chuckled grimly along with Taranis, the former's gallows mirth lost in the sounds of the latter's grim amusement.

Luna, IJ, and Shining Armor all nodded in approving silence.

Neyla, Alyra, Sildinar, Kephic, Willian, Shierel, and Varan all looked on with some mixture of pride, and interest, uniquely blended on each face as the emotions were flavored with each unique perspective.

Celestia looked as if she might cry.

Hutch and Aston too, albeit clearly for completely different reasons more closely related to the generally positive sentiments all we Gryphons were feeling, than to the depression that seemed to have completely subsumed the Solar Monarch.

At the end of the group, I could see Siidran and Linnea suppressing smiles as well. Hard not to feel pride in our craftsmanship, even if we also keenly understood the horrors these machines would unleash just as well as Celestia seemed to.

I shared a brief smile with Neyla, and then Alyra, and finally a nod with Sildinar before returning my gaze to meet the nearing metal behemoths as they crested the final rise and began to steam down the straightaway.

The strangest part of the two half-mile consists was, by far, the central super-long wide-load custom built cars in the center of each train that carried an enormous number of tarped goods too large to fit into crates.

Each central superheavy chassis also carried a small mast-like protrusion at the front made from welded steel braces.

Far more eye-catching than the cars themselves were the two objects tethered to their mooring masts, dragged along above each train at an altitude of fifty feet.

They were obviously airships, but even I could only breathlessly imagine how they would actually look in flight.

And I had designed them.

For shipping purposes, the Capital's Forge-Masters had encased the nearly-finished vehicles in dazzle camouflage painted outer canvas shells, held into rigid boxy shapes with thin aluminum wire.

The anticipation I'd been feeling jumped up more than a few notches as I saw the two vehicles airborne. Even under power from a tow engine, and hidden from prying Wisp eyes behind protective canvas, they were a spectacular sight.

At the closest switch point the two consists had pre-empted usual Equestrian rail service, and diverged, allowing them to pull in to the tracks outside Canterlot's main passenger station side by side for unloading.

An unearthly screech filled the air as the trains entered the final stretch of open tracks, brakes were applied, and the two half-mile long trains thundered, squealed, and shuddered to a stop.

The hiss and puffy white clouds of steam briefly filled the air, before being completely overpowered by gruff shouting of orders, and the clang of steel and alloy as Gryphons began to land from the escort formation, or disembark their onboard guard posts, and open the doors of the boxcars.

The smell was incredibly invigorating; A weird combination of deeply familiar scents from my time in two world's militaries, and entirely new scents of old technologies and substances turned to new purposes by historical Human engineering and science, all drenched in fresh clean rain.

Hot steel and alloy. Warm leather. Canvas and burlap. Gunpowder. Burning coal.

Fears for the future or no; I love the smell of mechanized warfare in the morning.

Spying two familiar forms in the murk, I grinned, and moved forward, extending a claw first to Sareth, and then Soreth.

"Well isn't this a sight for sore eyes!"

Sareth snorted, and clapped me between my shoulders as Soreth lovingly punched me above my left foreleg.

They spoke in tandem, jovially, and with a thick regional brogueish accent, as always.

"Aye, sore is tha right word..."

"...We've been workin' ourselves nigh sore to tha bone to get all o' this here..."

"...And only half o' it still in pieces and needin' more work."

I shook my head and glanced up at the sky going warships appreciatively, folding my forelegs over my chest, and snorting into the diminishing rain.

"Well you're miracle workers. The both of you. What do you say we get the shipping covers off, so everyone else can appreciate your biggest miracles with us?"

The twins grinned wickedly, and spoke as one, even as their wings snapped open.

"Aye!"

As the Forge-Masters took off and began conversing in loud staccato commands and responses with several of their underlings, I stepped back to the family, and the royals. In spite of Celestia's dour expression, and my own more well disguised reservations, I couldn't help but feel an immense sensation of pride and achievement that leaked through into my voice, and expression both.

"Now this? This is a sight you're never going to forget."

As if to underscore my words, the Twins let loose a piercingly loud shout.

"COVERS AWAY!"

Sareth and Soreth's words rang out with their usual penchant for identical timing and pitch.

With a clank and the soft squeal of scraping aluminum and canvas, the shells around the two destroyers came away suddenly, yanked backwards by hundreds of claws in sequence, and then borne away on the power of those same Gryphons' wings, to be deposited in a holding area to break down for scrap.

At last, the two ships were revealed.

Though the gas cells that held them aloft were spherical kevlar-like alloy woven canvas, reinforced with extra aluminum plate and girded with alloy struts, the vessels both had an aggressive, angular, warship aspect to them as a result of the way the exterior alloy armor plating covered the entirety of both the gas cells, and the internal spaces.

From above or below, each ship had the general shape of a dagger, with a stubby and medium wide engine section at the rear sporting three extensively cowled drive fans nestled in armored shrouds to protect them from assault from any direction except directly aft.

At the one quarter mark forwards, the ships flared wide into spaces for two gimballed medium gun turrets; Each gimbal gun sported two 127 mm barrels that protruded just far enough to offer the gunners good coverage to the ship's sides. Each gimbal gun was flanked by two smaller similarly designed, but smaller weapons emplacements with fifty caliber gatling guns.

Forward of the gunnery protrusions the ship narrowed like the tumblehome of a naval vessel, with a bridge sat just forward of midships, and a small but nonetheless roomy-enough forward open air deck. Fifty caliber claw-crank gatling guns studded the perimeter of the deck, spoiling any impression that one might be tempted to feel that the craft were anything but warships.

The underside of the dagger's shape's 'blade' area was given over to one single enormous double barrel weapon, with surprisingly modern looking squared off muzzle brakes that were each as big as a boxcar themselves.

Both vessels' alloy armor plates were painted in dazzle camouflage patterns suited to aerial combat, with gray blue and white sky match patterns on the lower half, and brown and green ground match patterns on the upper.

I smiled, and gestured with one claw expansively.

"Folks... I give you the 'Heart of Wisdom,' and the 'Wings of the Dawn.' Nicholson Class airborne destroyers, of the new First Fleet, of the new Mechanized Knights' Air Corps."

Skye whistled again, long and low. Stan did the same, practically vocalizing in harmony. Taranis grinned, and snorted his approval. IJ's left eye crest plate simply went up, a tacit admission of admiration.

Skye spoke aloud as Alyra breathed 'WOW' at an almost subvocal level, and the other Gryphons simply smiled.

"Hot.... DAMN. You built Sky-Monitors. Flying motherbucking ironclads, you magnificent son of a..."

Celestia exhaled sharply, and shook her head, face a pained mixture of undeniable admiration, and unsupressable heartache alike. She swallowed, hard, and pierced me with a gaze, and a tone that almost dampened some of my enthusiasm.

Almost.

"Oh my dear friend... What have you done."

It was a statement of deep sadness, not so much a question, that was almost lost amidst the sounds of thousands of Gryphons unloading both trains, and even more thousands landing, and marching into parade formation for headcounts.

Skye trumpeted her approval into the gap, almost as if Celestia hadn't spoken at all.

"Oh yeah. These are gonna fuck some shit up *real* good!"

I sighed, and raised one eye crest as I returned Celestia's stare, holding my ground verbally, and with my expression. I was not about to apologize for seizing the opportunity with regards to the inevitable. Alyra was right; Some choices were easier because you didn't have good alternatives.

Someone had to build the first mechanized warships in Equestrian history. Better us than the Diamond Dogs, and better now than far too late to save anyone.

Nonetheless, I felt the need to spend some breath defending myself. Or perhaps assuaging Celestia's feelings of worry, and guilt, more than anything. Or maybe my own feelings of worry, and guilt... Deep down.

"I've done the only smart thing. Under the circumstances. With these? With everything else we've brought? With everything else we're going to produce in the months to come? If we can muster the troops to take these weapons into battle at-scale... We stand a chance."

Hutch snorted, and folded his forelegs to mimic my pose as he not-so-subtly stepped into the space between Celestia and I, and inserted himself forcefully into the conversation.

"Yeah you got that right. Are those magnetic driven guns in the main battery?"

With a smile, and a grateful tiny nod, I gestured upwards with one claw. Thank you Hutch.

"Good eye. The other weapons aboard are either claw-cranked, electric brushless motor driven barrels, vertical launch naval mortars, or breech loaders, all with gunpowder driven rounds. The main battery is a dual barrel forty three centimeter coil gun firing twelve hundred kilo armor piercing iron rounds in alloy and tungsten jackets at mach nine and a half. And we brought two dozen prototype high-ex shells that we think could let off a six thousand pound JDAM equivalent on impact... But that's a treat for later."

I had wanted railguns over coilguns. But we were still working out the final issues with our insulators. Equestria's magic-infused reality made working with electricity a more complex endeavor than one might expect, coming from a lifetime of experiences in Earth's spacetime.

Not intractable... Just complex.

"So you got the high-tension insulators to work after all. Holy moth---"

I shook my head, and cut Skye's breathless interruption off before she could warm up her pipes for an awe-inspired invective-laden spiel.

"Not us. Someone out of these parts, actually. From Ponyville, of all places. We just took the new science and ran with it. We've got electric lights inside and out, heating and cooling, including the ability to seal up and recycle air, or pressurize the inside for any crew of a species that can't breathe at extreme altitude. An actual honest-to-God analog targeting computer onboard. And... If you can believe it..."

I pointed to a spot on the ship's aft port quarter where two Gryphons were raising a fifty foot flexible whip-like piece of metal into the air, and screwing it into a receiving bracket. Skye understood immediately when her brain caught up to her eyes, and her voice dipped into the kind of breathless awed tone that told me we had truly impressed her.

"Radio. No frakkin' way."

Nodding slowly, I couldn't suppress a hint of a smirk, on my beak, and in my voice.

"Still bulky, but using the ships as base stations, we can reduce the officers' new field radios to something that can be carried in a small rucksack, like early World War radios. Give it another couple years and we'll make them small enough to be belt mounted."

It was Aston's turn to interrupt, ever the brilliant tactician, as Skye silently mouthed 'wow!' and mulled over the revelation that we had managed to build field-portable transceiver assemblies.

"Who would you even talk to, besides field units, or the other ship?"

I gestured to one of the largest collections of bulk-sized crates being pulled from the nearest consist's center cars.

"There's now a functioning long-range base station in Tih’ré Seli’hn, at least, if Sareth and Soreth did their jobs. And they always do. We brought materials for a high gain, high power mast to be setup here in Canterlot as well. In theory we can talk between the ships, and both cities, at fairly extreme ranges by bouncing the signal off the ionosphere. Early tests are validated at over two thirds that distance. Might even be able to talk to Earth if we tune it right."

Skye managed to collect herself enough to launch another barrage of questions. I was happy to answer. Everyone would be getting a briefing packet soon enough, but the more details we could cover early on? The better.

"How are you generating power? Thrust for the engine? Same system? Different?"

I leaned down into a better position to direct Skye's line of sight towards the features I was pointing out as I cheerfully recited the base specifications. It was nice to have friends who appreciated the finer things in life.

"We've got dual electric steam turbines driven by a Thaumatically enhanced coal fired boiler that can afterburn most of its exhaust gasses internally, and pipe spare heat to an internal equipment forge. The engines are brushless direct-current motors, seventy five thousand horsepower equivalent. There's three big ones at the rear for main thrust, and a host of smaller ducted fans for added maneuvering authority. We wanted to go bigger, but the insulators just aren't there yet."

As I stood back to my hind legs, I crossed my forelegs again, and grinned, unable to take my eyes of the vessels' sleek, angular forms, as I contextualized for the others.

"They'll do fifty five knots. Or about a hundred kph for the landlubbers. Not much against a Pegasus, or even a Gryphon pushing hard with a tailwind... But a damn sight better than any Equestrian seagoing ship, they never get tired, and with a full fuel bunker they'll go to the ends of the known map. And back. Carrying all that armor, armament, and supplies. With a drop to spare at the end. More if you deploy the endurance sails and make good use of them."

To my surprise, it was Stan that blurted out the obvious reaction before Skye could manage it.

"The *sails?*"

I pointed out the cover mechanisms, and raised one eye crest.

"We keep them stowed unless in-use. Gryphon-alloy-kevlar is durable, but also damn expensive."

I looked from face to face as my family and friends shook their heads, or stared in awe.

"We thought of just about everything. Well, 'we' being me, Sareth, Soreth, half the armorers of the Kingdoms, several other Converts, and all the Human engineering we all leaned on."

As if their ears were burning, the twins arrived back on the ground in a sudden flurry of wings, and sleet downdrafts. Somewhere along the way they had gotten ahold of their tool belts, and were both studded with hammers, pliers, screwdrivers, and similar implements the way most every other Gryphon in the arriving forces was covered in weapons.

I smiled, and inclined my head upwards, towards the ships.

"When will we be flight ready?"

Sareth nodded, and pointed upwards at the closer vessel. The first and most well developed hull.

"Tha Wisdom jus' needs a few final tweaks 'n parts, and we can fire up tha boilers to full..."

Soreth finished his brother's sentence with their customary near-telepathy, likewise gesturing with one claw towards the second ship.

"...Tha Dawn will need at least another month o' work. Most o' her boiler is still on tha' freight cars in pieces."

Sareth could hear my concerns and objections coming, before I'd even finished inhaling to voice them, and he smoothly stepped in to assuage everyone's potential concerns.

"We ken use her as a fixed defensive redoubt right now tho. All the chemical driven shot, and tha mechanical targeting computer and optics works without tha 'lectrics. Pity any poor fokkin sod who tries ta go up 'gainst tha VLS mortars."

I exhaled without speaking; A relieved sigh, accompanied by a slow nod. As long as the ship could defend itself, and the city...

"We brought some 'o tha new twenty five inch shells, packed with yer new high-ex formula."

Soreth's words brought my head up sharply. I hadn't realized how close they were to completing the heavier mortar shells. Close enough, apparently, to finish a few.

Sareth nudged Shining Armor's ribs lightly, grinning like a hawk above a rabbit.

"Ah'd wager even tha dear Pony Prince, with his legendary shield magics, could nay survive a hit from one o' them."

Shining glowered slightly at the gesture, and the words, but the expression was overcome with an admiring smile, and a suitably awed tone that told me he was far more impressed than offended.

"I really, very badly want to fight you on that... But I'll be perfectly honest... I don't fancy my odds. I'm glad you're on *our* side!"

The twins smiled warmly in stereo, and both inclined their heads towards Shining in a gesture of respect. The Prince knew enough to recognize it as a deep sign of trust, and camaraderie. Gryphons aren't much for complex displays of ceremonial respect towards our own kind, let alone others.

Celestia spoke out again at last, her voice betraying a resigned weariness as her eyes scanned over the seemingly endless stream of crates pouring out of the trains.

"And... What of the rest of these materials?"

I pointed towards the markings on the nearest crate as I explained. The stenciled words said 'HVY MORTAR - BARREL COMPONENTS' in Common and Gryphic.

"It will take some effort to complete and assemble them all, but there are materials and designs here for a few hundred fixed artillery emplacements, belt fed anti-air devices, and defensive heavy mortars, with at least five finished working exemplars of each."

Luna was well ahead of me, doing quick mental math that told her my explanation accounted for far less than half the wooden boxes on display. She locked eyes with first her sister, and then me.

"And all the rest of these crates?"

I whistled sharply as I spied an excellent exemplar crate, and the two Gryphons lugging it obligingly changed course to deposit it in front of the group.

"Munitions..."

I dipped my head in thanks, reached out with both claws, and pried the lid open, allowing the dull gray light of day to fall on the rows of wooden, steel, and alloy implements.

Pulling one of the carbine Thunderblades out of the crate, I hefted it for all to see with a smirk that I simply could not resist.

"...And guns."

I stepped back to allow the group to gather around and see the pistol, shotgun, Pony-usable, and long-range sniper variants of the design packed in soft beds of wood chips.

"Lots of guns."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 19th, Gregorian Calendar

"Well. This is an absolutely fascinating little gift you've brought me Xaelus."

Former-Councilor Xaelus blinked, inhaled deeply, and then squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, trying to stop his vision from phasing in and out of double and triple ghostly afterimages.

It took Xaelus several moments to clock the voice as that of Cam Lindstrom. It helped that the other former-Councilor stepped into view, and leaned over Xaelus just as he managed to quiet the aching in his head enough to open his eyes once more.

Lindstrom grimmaced; A rare expression on the normally composed man's face. His tone took a sharp, frighteningly cold turn as he continued to speak, looking first down at Xaelus, then up through the vial of glistening teal liquid clutched in his right hand.

A very familiar vial.

"Almost makes up for the absolutely *fucking insane* nightmare of a *shitshow* that you decided, in your infinite wisdom, to inflict on the Human race."

Xaelus' concept of time, and self, and reality finally came rushing back in like a flood. He moved to sit up, but found himself bound hands, feet, and neck to the medical biobed on which he was spread-eagled, face up.

Xaelus glowered, and struggled against the restraints, grating out his words through parched lips.

"Lindstrom! What is the meaning of this? I demand---"

The soft trill of a feminine chuckle interrupted Xaelus. That, and the gentle rasp of the flat side of a hoof blade across his throat.

"HAH! Oh.. That is *rich.*"

Xaelus glared at the red Unicorn with a peculiar mixture of hatred, rage, and fear as she circled him, keeping her front right hoof, and its attached wickedly sharp killing implement, laid softly against his throat all the while as she spoke.

"I have spent all of six months on your planet... And I can tell you without reservation, or hesitation, that you are, without doubt, the stupidest Human I have ever met, or heard of."

The Unicorn smiled. The expression sent shivers down Xaelus' spine. It was like staring into the maw of a railgun, rather than the muzzle of an Equine.

"You are in no position to demand anything."

The Unicorn's tone shifted abruptly from deep, rumbling distant thunder, to a lighthearted half-chuckle as she stepped back, lowered her blade, and flicked her mane disdainfully.

"Figuratively, and physically."

Another familiar voice brought Xaelus' gaze around to the surprisingly recognizable face of Anna Norris.

"I wouldn't press her if I were you. She puts insides on the outside better than anyone either of us ever had on our staff. I promise you that."

Before Xaelus could even begin to sort out the implications of the peculiar collection of individuals gathered around him, Lindstrom pocketed the Project Loki vial, exchanging it for another injector that had obviously been nestled in his front right suit pocket.

He twirled the second syringe, full of a blue-gray substance, around the fingers of his right hand as he took up the helm of the conversation once more, his usual disconcertingly calm tone returning.

"Well. In spite of the fascinating new... Option, that you have delivered gift wrapped to the ECP, here in the Earth's eleventh hour... The question remains.."

Lindstrom fixed his eyes on Xaelus, and the expression on Cam's face produced another reflexive shiver, as did his words.

"What to do with you...?"

Xaelus pressed against his restraints again, begging with his words, his expression, and his tone.

"Cam, listen to me, the situation---"

Lindstrom waved one hand dismissively, and his face twisted swiftly into a disgusted rictus, his interruption coming out in a short, sharp monotone.

"I wasn't asking you."

Lindstrom raised one eyebrow, and shot a questioning glance at Norris. The former General paused to think, and then folded her hands behind her back, delivering her verdict in clipped, succinct words.

"He's an experienced fighter, and commander. But if the Gryphons or the Dragons knew we had him...? Disastrous. He could still be of use... We could trade him to the Equestrians."

Lindstrom nodded, and turned next to Requiem. The red Unicorn snorted, and tossed her mane again.

"He has clearly demonstrated experience, indeed. Experience in placing weapons of mass destruction up your species' collective ass, and pulling the trigger with gleeful abandon."

The Unicorn stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout, and locked eyes with Xaelus as she finished her opinion, first in a saccharine sing-song tone, but then in a much more serious, almost deadpan finishing sentence that sent icicles through Xaelus' blood.

"If you're going to do a crime... Especially a war crime... The least you can do is have the common decency not to get caught. You're better off without him."

Lindstrom turned, shooting an expression that was equal parts curiosity, and mild amusement towards a figure at the far end of the room that Xaelus could not move his head enough to see.

"Well, Matthas? You *have* been toying with the idea of starting a pack of your own..."

Xaelus tensed as a gravelly, familiar, yet somehow deeper, and frighteningly calm voice filled the room.

"I can make a use for him. I'll keep him... On a short leash."

Lindstrom nodded, and rubbed his fingers against the side of the syringe in his hand.

"Very well."

The former Councilor turned, and began striding back towards the biobed, reflexively straightening his suit with his free hand, his voice returning to the even-keel register that was his trademark.

"We'll go with Korvan's option. I trust the... Unique constraints of the pack dynamic, to keep Xaelus in line during your travels."

As Lindstrom lifted the syringe and flicked it to dislodge air bubbles, the math finally clicked in Xaelus' head. The rumors about Matthas Korvan. The voice from the far side of the room. 'Pack dynamic.'

The familiar blue-gray sparkle of the syringe...

"You.. What?! NO! You can't be *serious!* CAM! STOP! LISTEN TO ME---!"

Xaelus' voice, and manic thrashing, betrayed an abject panic uncommon for a man of his former station. He knew what was in the syringe. What would happen if its contents entered his blood stream...

Nanites, and pre-woven spells ripping and tearing at flesh, bone, and synapse... Remaking him. Bending him to the serum's will... To his new Alpha's will...

"Right then."

Lindstrom bent down, and with a shockingly dispassionate, and practiced ease, he rammed the syringe home, dumping its potent contents directly into Xaelus' carotid artery.

Xaelus screamed, incoherently writing and babbling, fighting a desperate losing battle against the Diamond Dog Potion's sedatives as Lindstrom turned, and walked towards the chamber's door, while the hulking form of an immense Diamond Dog Lupine hove into view.

The last words former-Councilor Xaelus' mind processed with Human thought, as the world slipped away, were Lindstrom's.

"Meeting adjourned."

Author's Note

Nicholson Class is a reference to Mary Webb Nicholson, one of the best and bravest pilots to ever live:

https://www.ncpedia.org/nicholson-mary

She was a badass, and flew with the WASPs, which often meant flying planes on Legendary mode where others wouldn't dare to tread.

Chapter 5

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 5th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

The bleak gray of dusk fog and clouds outside the VTOL matched my mood perfectly. I sat staring out a small window, tuning out the hushed conversations of the aircraft's other occupants.

Hutch had described everything short of a worst-case scenario to me.

Internal witch hunts, near political collapse, breathless civil war brinkmanship, the final splitting of the military, and rioting were apparently the only thing on the news anymore.

Closer unity between Earth and Equestria in JRSF military matters was good. Humans having a little healthy fear of my own kind was good too; It would keep them moral when their own sensibilities, and laws would not...

...But things had spiraled so far beyond healthy, that two whole Earthgov regional councils were threatening secession, their rallying cry 'Humans for Humanity First.' The Council was doing little or nothing to dissuade them. I wondered if they would even pledge the parts of the Army and Air Force that they controlled to help defend a pro-Humanist exclusionary state.

A politically legitimate HLF. Now there was a terrifying idea.

In some cities it was the complete opposite. Citizens protested demanding the replacement of all Human law and military officers with 'perfect, impartial Equestrians.' They remembered the terrors of the HLF, the things Echelon 12 had done too, and so were fallaciously prepared to condemn all Humanity with them.

In other places, Conversion Bureaus had to have twenty four hour guard patrols of tanks, and missile batteries to stop citizens from burning them down and murdering everyone inside.

People who had watched the Barrier consume their homes, watched PER militants wrest choice away from their loved ones through force, and seen one lone angry red Gryphon show up their own government on the interdimensional stage, wanted nothing more to do with Equestria unless it was on their terms.

Many places were still calm and civil, but that peace felt temporary. Tension grew by leaps and bounds every day, and no one seemed to be able to douse the rising flames.

The media was, as ever, gleefully pleased to throw fuel on the inferno, in the hopes that the whole system would eventually just collapse in spectacular fashion.

The government was helplessly driven by its baser nature, and corporate sponsors.

Please the anti-Equestrian sentiments and risk war with a power that could bring them to their knees in less than a week, while acquiescing the desires of the corporations who could not transfer the tenth part of their profits, or structures to Equestria, and so desired as much heel-dragging as possible?

Or follow pro-Equestrian movements to their logical conclusion, and essentially hand over governance of the Earth to non-Humans, doubtless instantly provoking civil war? A rend down the middle of the populace, corporations, governmental sectors, and the military, that would lead to an out and out conflict, and a great deal of bloodshed.

Or do almost nothing, but the bare minimum to stay functional, which seemed to be the only logical choice, and the road that had been taken.

I knew I had done much of the groundwork to make the government so helpless.

I also knew I couldn't blame myself for everything. Part of the problem was pure and simple panic, and claustrophobia, caused by the swallowing of New York, London, Paris, Madrid, and most of their host regions.

A large part of the problem was the evil that, to some degree, in spite of my own personal crusade and purge, still thrived at the heart of the Council.

At the root, these were all the throes of a dying world, in an imperfect reality, where hard choices had to be made by fallible beings who would rather not face existential questions.

People were sad, and angry, and scared, and rightly so.

But I knew I had contributed to the problem as well; Instead of leaving well enough alone, or helping to bring stability, I had thrown explosive ingredients into an already tenuous mix.

It rankled me that I felt a little guilty for the outcome, but felt no remorse for the actions themselves. I just couldn't bring myself to feel any remorse for having done what I felt, what I *knew,* was necessary, yet I hated the results with every fiber of my being. A paradox of epic proportions.

Nothing could ever just be simply done within Human political spheres, I reflected bitterly. Sin was practically the price of admission for governance. And sometimes I felt that the horror of the slow motion collapse I'd helped to tip over the brink was, in the end, better than the more insidious, saccharine, carefully branded and gussied up horror of oppression and stale societal inertia.

Fewer people might die in the end in a civil war, and the resulting panic Conversions to escape the fires, than would die from the barrier consuming leftover billions crammed into Queensland and New South Wales, apathetically drooling their way to extinction.

There was that grim thought again. Inescapable.

My sense of balance told me the craft was descending, and slowing. The lights of a cityscape, offset by dusk's pale teal light, sprang up from below as the VTOL dipped below the clouds, and shot a fast approach to a military airstrip.

I could see a waiting Javelin hypersonic transport being fueled on the tarmac. I could even pick out errant threads on the technician's sleeves.

My gaze shifted back to the city, and I winced involuntarily.

A quarter of it looked to be on fire, or as if it had recently been on fire. Sporadic riots were cutting a swathe through the northern quarter, forming, joining, dispersing, and reforming again as the Military Police tried unsuccessfully to corral the violence.

Most of the belligerents on both sides were Human, but there were a few Diamond Dogs, Minotaurs, Zebra, and even a smattering of Ponies amongst one side, clearly those of less than favorable sentiment towards Earthgov.

I could see many symbols on their flags, bandanas, arm bands, and graffiti. Some of it consisted of variations on the Equine flag, others had been appropriated and tweaked from uprisings and movements in Humanity's past.

And a few were even based around the theme of a red Gryphon, usually with a weapon.

Internally, I seethed, and wished there were some way I could help them, without making matters worse. I'd always held high regard for the soldiers who fought beside me in the military, but I'd never felt any kinship to the flag officers, Hutch excepted, nor the Military Police.

They had always seemed, even before I had the benefit of a clearer external perspective, to enjoy the brutality their office afforded them license to exercise. It was all nothing more than the dregs of old power structures to my eye. The death throes of the Council and their corporate leash holders.

Good riddance.

Thugs who deserved what they were getting at the hands and hooves and paws of the justifiably angry.

I wondered, not for the first time, whether my guilt was a stupid perversion of the natural, desirable, wholly right sadness at seeing so much suffering. A perversion as a result of the Human societal expectations, and military life I was raised into, that demanded absolute fealty to money, and the people who had the most of it, post-singularity resource abundance be damned.

Aston's voice broke through my brooding as the VTOL finished switching to landing mode, ceased all lateral movement, and continued to descend gradually.

"Bogota. Things fell apart here about a week and a half ago, when the first batch of evacuees from Caracas arrived. It's been getting worse with each new wave. I imagine it will get even worse when they have to evacuate from here to Rio, and Cordoba."

I raised an eyebrow, firing off a wordless question.

Aston sighed and shook her head slowly.

"Bogota has always been one of the most underprivileged cities in Earthgov. Conversion, and Equestrian friendships brought them hope. It also brought the PER, who have been using the city as a base to carry out Potion Bombings in Caracas for years. Caracas was the seat of power for the regional council, and very well-to-do. The people here perceive the evacuees as invaders..."

I nodded in sudden understanding, pinching the bridge of my beak in frustration as I finished Aston's thought to its logical end, filling in from my large and growing knowledge of two worlds' histories.

"...And the displaced people of Caracas perceive this as a hostile environment, and a breeding ground for terrorists. Mmmph. Human history repeats itself again. Mass displacements never end peacefully."

Aston shook her head once more as she rose and made her way towards the aircraft's rear ramp, pausing to hold on as the vehicle touched down, before speaking again.

"Political assassinations never end peacefully either."

Neyla rose indignantly, and made as if to follow, but I held out a foreleg to gently arrest her progress, speaking simultaneously.

"Don't. She's partly right. And I don't begrudge her the right to make a point of it. She's our friend, and she deserves to be able to be blunt with us. To a point, anyhow."

I rose and made my way slowly down the ramp, turning and aimlessly wandering in the general direction of the Javelin, lost in a dark miasma of recrimination, anger, and frustration.

Alyra

I moved from my previous seat beside Skye, to occupy the spot where Dad had been, as Hutch and my unofficial Aunt disembarked quietly.

I spoke only after a brief pause, in which Mom and I stared out across the airport's triple layer fence, over the exterior concrete wall, beyond the rows of armored guard vehicles, and down into the violence of the slums.

"Lots of people think the singularity meant the end of poverty on Earth. But it didn't. Even when everyone can be cared for, it's always in someone's best interest to ensure that most aren't."

I sighed. My words pouring out of an extension to the deep expression of sad remembrance. I knew I needed to remember. To see. To be there to keep it all from happening again someday.

"I grew up in a place like this. Only difference was, it was 'under control.' Hidden right under the noses of people in one of the 'cleanest' and 'most equal' cities on Earth. People still died at the hands of others, or of starvation... Even disease... it just happened quietly."

Neyla cupped me inwards to her side with one wing, and rested her head gently on top of mine, doing her best to inject warmth into her tone, to provide comfort in the face of harsh memories.

"As long as we remember we're not perfect, and remember the mistakes of the past, we'll be alright. We'll get better every day, instead of worse. There's hope for these people too... It just takes the right words, and actions, at the right time. And bravery to stick with them until they get there. We have to be the brave ones. For those who cannot."

There was no place in the world I'd rather be, than under the wings of one of my parents. Except maybe both at the same time, but that was a tragically rare joy.

Her words, and the deep abiding rhythm of her heartbeat, gave me strength as if I'd been plugged into a live wire.

I reminded myself again; I had to see. Had to remember. Had to be there to make sure there was never another little girl left alone on the street to die.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Seventh Day, Celestial Calendar

Kephic

My eyes snapped open before the first thud had died away. By the time the second was fresh on the air, I was halfway to the door, sword and scabbard snatched from their place at the side of the bed.

As the third and final impact of the knock died, I reached the door, and yanked it open, slinging the scabbard over my shoulder in the same motion.

At such an hour of the night, that sound was never good news. Never.

A Night Guard stood stone-faced before the aperture, with Varan's hulking form cloaked in pre-dawn shadows behind him.

I had known my brother long enough to discern between his various dispassionate expressions; Where others might have seen nothing more than his typical stoicism, I detected a deep sense of worry.

Bad news indeed then.

"My Sovereigns wish your assistance in a... Delicate matter."

I nodded once curtly, and fell into step beside my brother, following the bat-like Pegasus down the darkened halls at a military clip, talons and hooves click-clacking in perfect time.

Rounding a final corner, we beheld a most unpleasant sight. Celestia and Luna stood at a distance, each flanked by two of their respective guards. Shining armor and a small huddle of Day and Night guards knelt near a large double door, beside a prone form bearing familiar golden armor.

And lying in a copious pool of blood.

Shining beckoned with one hoof for the guards to back away and lend us Gryphons some space. Though the Unicorn did his best to keep his tone professional, there was an obvious note of suppressed rage in it.

"What do you make of this?"

Varan and I both immediately understood; Any good commander would take the death of their own personally. We also understood that we had been summoned as much for our objectivity in an emotional sense, as our unmatched expertise in the arts of killing and tracking.

Varan knelt gingerly beside the blood pool, and stared raptly at the viscous, still-warm liquid, carefully evaluating the precise shape of the pool, and any residual splatter, across every inch of the room, down to the tiniest drops no bigger than the width of a dust mite.

For my part, I bent down beside the Prince, and began a careful examination of the dead guard's wound, speaking quietly enough to ensure only Shining and Varan would hear me.

"Nothing has been touched?"

The Unicorn shook his head, and responded at the same discrete volume.

"I discovered the body. I wanted to try and make some amends with your Pegasus friend. He's staying in the same bank of suites with our 'guests.' I found Southstar like this. I summoned the Princesses, they summoned you. Here we are."

I finished my visual inspection of the wound, and rocked back onto my haunches, delivering an initial verdict in the best clipped, professional tone I could muster.

"Single stab wound to the chest with a large bladed weapon, delivered by a strong, swift attacker. Wide, curved, exceedingly sharp, non-serrated blade capable of piercing the joints of alloy armor without issue. But from the amount of blood, and the remaining protrusions under the skin, the attacker plunged the blade in all the way, and left it there. Death was instantaneous. His heart was shredded into at least a dozen pieces on impact."

I offered all three monarchs a forlorn glance, and attempted to soften the blow of my next words.

"I need to... Remove the offending item. I do not advise that you watch."

I paused, and sighed. It weighed on my own heart at least half as much as it must've weighed on the others, in my estimation. As natural-born protectors, it always hurts Gryphons to see those we perceive as our charges harmed, even if the association was tertiary at best.

I knew the Pony had been a soldier, and an adult, and had died doing his duty. But it still felt wrong, as all murder inherently does. As all treachery inherently does. And there was no doubt in my mind, based on the lack of defensive wounds, that the situation was treachery.

Mustering up his sense of concentration, and steadying my claws, I threw a final set of instructions over my shoulder at the nearest Day Guard.

"We'll also need buckets, towels, hot water, soap, sand, bags or sacks made of very thick paper, in several different sizes, and a sheet of something liquid-retentive large enough to wrap him up in. There will be at least twice as much blood as there is now once the blockage is removed. He's not been dead long, and he still has blood pressure."

The Night Guards, and Luna herself remained completely impassive. Celestia turned away, restraining tears of mourning, rage, and disgust. I made a mental note that I wanted to be present whenever she got her hooves on whomever was responsible for this. Sometimes watching the dispensation of fates worse than death has a cathartic effect.

Shining took a reflexive step back, but continued to watch in horror. No matter how much you break and remold a Pony, I reflected, there's no way to remove that base prey instinct.

Many of the Day Guards retreated entirely. I winced internally as I heard one of the youngest, most junior recruits vomit uncontrollably and break down into sobs. Poor fellow. I didn't begrudge him the emotion at all. That part was something we shared in exactly equal measure. The pain of loss of a comrade. A friend.

The empathy for his pain hurt more than the mere base pain at seeing a fellow soldier perish so needlessly. I made another mental note to ensure that whenever Celestia and Shining were done with whomever had done the deed, that I would be present to ensure they never did anything at all, ever again.

Without further ado, I murmured a small apology, and then a prayer in old gryphic, I steeled myself, and placed my right thumb and index talons into the wound. Mauling an enemy was one thing, but rooting around inside the body of an ally was another entirely. I hated it.

As any Gryphon would, I had the stomach for it, and nerves to spare. But it gave me no small amount of emotional discomfort nonetheless. A body is just a shell when the person inside is gone. But there's still something disquieting about having to mar it.

The operation was over in seconds. I had to jump back to avoid being completely spattered in blood, though a fair amount still coated my chest feathers, face, and forelegs by the time I was done.

A Night Guard dashed forward with one of the requested paper bags, and I deposited the weapon into it after briefly staring at it to memorize its shape, weight, color, texture, and other identifying characteristics.

Varan began to respectfully, but methodically remove the deceased's armor, placing each piece separately into a bag, while Luna's guards, more suited for the task as a result of her battle-blessing, began to mop up the mess on the floor.

Finally, the body itself was wrapped in three layers of clean dry linen, and an outer covering of tarplin, to be borne solemnly away by four Night Guard Unicorns.

Shining proffered me a warm towel, soaked in soapy water, which I most gratefully plucked from the Unicorn's thaumatic field. As I began wiping down my face, forelegs, and chest, I delivered a more detailed verdict to Celestia and Luna.

"A single wound of this type? Directly to the front? With no other defensive wounds present, and aimed precisely against a vulnerable chest joint in the plating? Either the deceased knew his attacker, or you're dealing with someone who can cast an invisibility spell."

Varan nodded, and interjected his own observations smoothly, in a dark monotone.

"From the minimal spatter, I expect the attacker is a consummate professional in the art of killing swiftly, silently, and at close range. This was not done in a warrior's fashion, but rather an assassin's. There is some chance we can follow a blood trail, but very little was transferred. I expect the trail will end before it leaves this room."

I exhaled slowly, and made the snap internal decision to err on the side of full disclosure, quickly raising a claw to prevent questions or other responses. After gathering my thoughts for several seconds, I spoke again.

"I'm sure her Lunar highness, and the former Guard's Captain both saw what I did when I examined the weapon... So I will put speculation to rest, having held it and examined it in detail. It is unmistakably a Changeling chitin-spur. Yellow in color."

The implication landed with enough force to bring a cloying, thick silence to the hall. Shining looked as if he would be first to speak, as visible rage began to rise alongside clear comprehension, but Varan interjected sharply.

He always seemed to know how to stop a situation from spiraling.

His tone was electrifying in its intensity, in spite of its low volume, but perhaps because of its low register, and uncharacteristic forcefulness. I had no doubt that the floor-shaking bass of my brother's voice would give even Celestia herself pause. He cultivated that register of his voice for just such occasions.

"We will *not* jump to *rash* conclusions in this. There are at *minimum* three explanations I can see, and almost certainly more which we have not yet foreseen. Firstly..."

The golden Gryphon circled to stand between the group and the double doors, cutting off any thought Celestia, or Shining might have been brooking of breaching the guest wing and storming headlong into a confrontation.

"It is possible this weapon was fashioned by someone else from Chitin taken from the body of a Changeling, and given a hue artificially to match one of IJ's guards. Secondly, it is possible that a hostile Changeling mimicked the shape of said guard, and committed the deed. Thirdly..."

Varan inclined his head slightly towards Shining's glowering visage, as if to acknowledge that the Prince's hostility, and train of thought were so obvious, that he needn't even voice his opinion. Admittedly, it was the obvious first explanation in terms of sheer simplicity, especially to someone with past bad blood as far as Changelings went.

To any of us who knew her, it was a near impossibility. But only Varan, Stan, and I knew her truly well enough to vouch for her, as far as friendly voices there in the castle went.

"...It is *possible* that one of IJ's guards actually committed this murder. But I for one view that as the *least* likely possibility. And even if it were so... That does *not* mean IJ herself, or any of the others, are complicit. Her Hive does not force a constant mind-link, and so it is *entirely* conceivable an individual within it could act in secret to commit such an act."

I hurriedly raised a claw, and moved to complete my brother's thought before anyone could object.

"I find it incredibly suspicious that this should happen, and in such brazen, yet senseless fashion, leaving such clear evidence, at the outset of these important negotiations. Why not attack one of your highnesses? Or at least *someone* of political value? In my mind the logical reason would be that we can do far more damage to ourselves, and each other, through foolish wing-jerk reactions, if left alive."

Luna raised an eyebrow, and exchanged an unreadable glance with her sister, before speaking herself.

"Your logic has much wisdom to it. But as you said... We must not move to rash conclusions of any kind without evidence."

Celestia nodded sharply, and sighed, as if bearing a great weight between her wings. Her voice reflected exhaustion, as much as suppressed raw anger, and sadness. I knew where that came from. I had been there when she saved the Earth from an attack so brutal, it would have sliced off a full tenth out of the Human population when all was said and done.

Fyrenn said he felt she had never fully recovered. As ever, I found his assessment to be correct.

"A murder has been committed, and our law requires we investigate it to the best of our ability, and by our own protocol."

The Lunar monarch raised a hoof, and shot a sidelong glance at her sister, making her opinion known once more.

"Nevertheless, good Gryphons, we would have your expert council in killing matters, your counterbalancing viewpoints, and if needs-be any of your other skills, to find whomever is responsible, and prevent this from happening again."

Shining moved at last towards the door, placing one hoof on the aged oak, and glancing back and forth between Varan and I as he spoke.

"According to our law, the most senior officer present presides over the investigation, and for now that's me. So I make the calls. You consult."

Shining pressed hard, and the doors swung open, providing a path for Celestia and Luna. Once the Alicorns had moved on ahead out of earshot, the Prince spoke once more.

The hard edge of his tone shifted slightly, as his emotions directed themselves elsewhere, and he fixed first me, and then Varan with an almost pleading stare.

"And when we do find out who is responsible...? You do what you would do to them by the laws of *your* kingdom. No matter what anyone else asks of you, or says."

Varan raised one eyebrow, and his words rumbled deep in his chest.

"So. There is some of our fire in your belly after-all."

I blinked, and locked eyes with the Prince for a long moment, speaking more softly, but no less fervently than my brother.

"I take it this is not an official request from your government."

Shining shook his head slowly.

"No. No it most certainly is not."

Varan moved through the door silently at first, then tossing a question that came out more as a statement, back over one shoulder.

"But I take it your government will not *object* if the killer faces Gryphon justice."

The Unicorn followed after us, his muzzle cast downwards in a dark glower.

"No. No it will not."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
December 6th, Gregorian Calendar

Fyrenn

Sleep evaporated instantly, and mercifully, giving way to vibration of seat cushions, and a deep thrum. I raised myself up from a leonine sleeping position on my chest, to my haunches, and glanced out the nearest window.

The rate at which the South Atlantic was streaming by told me that the Javelin had dropped to subsonic flight, and the proximity of the ocean's surface told me that the aircraft was on its final approach.

I turned my head to face the seat across from me, and found Neyla's unblinking stare waiting. She held my gaze, and murmured softly.

"More nightmares?"

I didn't bother to ask how she knew about my sleep problems. I suspected, all but knew, that Alyra was to blame for that, though I didn't harbor any blame for my daughter. She was simply doing what any child would, and confiding in the one she viewed as her mother, as well she rightly should.

Silence reigned, and that seemed to be all the answer Neyla needed. I knew that if I didn't deny the question, that silence would be taken as an affirmative in its own way as well.

I simply had no desire to converse about it at length, while travelling, and exhausted.

The images had been cloudy in my mind, as if whatever was giving cause to the nightmares was somehow partially blocked. Like signal jamming. The cloudiness had produced a damping effect on the severity of the dreams, and for that I was grateful.

As the Javelin swung into the downwind leg of the landing, I debated when, if ever, I should finally confide in Neyla about the exact contents of my dreams.

The aircraft dipped into a turn once more to shoot final approach for the trap. Further thought, or potential conversation, was cut short by the rigors of a carrier landing.

The other Gryphons and I had always found the kinetic forces to be barely more powerful than a stiff breeze by our perspective. To Hutch and Aston, it was a tremendous strain to remain upright in their seats, and avoid vomiting, even in a five point harness.

As the arresting bar's tension released, and the Javelin began to taxi, we all lined up ahead of the exit door. A fresh aircraft, pre-fueled, with cooled and flight-ready engines, would be meeting us on the deck.

Hypersonic flight was an enormous stress on Javelins, especially the carrier enabled variants, which were subject to the stresses of a shrunken cooling system, in order to save weight.

I mentally tuned in to the intimately familiar sounds of the deck crew outside, mostly muffled by the plane's incredible sound baffling, but still just barely audible.

I knew they were hosing down the skin of the jet with supercooled water, trying to make it safe to even approach. The engines would not come down to a temperature where the vehicle could safely be refueled for at least three hours, even under a constant stream of coolant.

Steam billowed past the craft's unusually small, heavily reinforced windows as chilled seawater vaporized on contact with the airframe's superheated and glowing special black paint.

After almost a minute, the co-pilot received the all-clear in her earpiece, nodded curtly, and popped the hatch open. Smoke and steam, mixed with salty spray, wafted through the portal.

The smell of high intensity jet fuel, tinged with the barest hint of the sea, was almost overpowering; A deeply nostalgic scent for me.

As I reached the top of the airstair, I paused to take in the scene on the carrier's deck.

The Yorktown had changed since the last time I'd seen it. 'JSS' for Joint Strike Service had replaced Earthgov's United Earth Service 'UES' on the nameplate. New deck extensions, enlarged aircraft elevators, heavier magnetic catapults, a secondary conning tower, double the number of anti-missile batteries, and a complete gray and burgundy JRSF paint job were only the start.

The refit had made the area control vessel capable of fully supporting a mixed-species crew. A sleek new class of Marine fighter occupied the stern parking slots. The craft were clearly designed for Gryphon and Pegasus pilots, rather than Humans.

Ponies, Gryphons, as well as a few Zebra, and even Minotaur moved to and fro together with Humans on the deck. All clad in standardized uniforms, flight suits, and protective gear as their respective tasks required.

Even objects like munitions carts seemed redesigned to allow for hooves, claws, and hands to make equally dextrous use of the controls.

Off the carrier's starboard side, just a few hundred yards distant, I could see the hulking, familiar form of the North Carolina. The Wake Island Class heavy tactical Battleship was also proudly displaying a new JRSF paint job, fortified anti-missile defenses, and modified aircraft launch rails. There was no sign of the battle damage from that fateful day, beyond the presence of bolstered braces for her catamarans.

To Yorktown's port, a light-carrier and a gaggle of destroyers bunched around a small line of combat service tenders and troopships. All in JRSF colors and designators.

A dozen of the ships' officers were assembled on the deck, awaiting our group's arrival. Hutch moved in swiftly to exchange pleasantries and documents with a young male Gryphon approximately my own age, and a similarly youthful female Pegasus.

The former's rank sash identified him as a commodore, the latter showed her as holding captain's rank. With a jolt, I realized that they were Yorktown and North Carolina's commanding officers. As the Carrier's CO, the Gryphon had charge over the entire attack group as well.

I ruminated that Hutch had not been exaggerating the extent to which the JRSF had done its best to replace Humans with Equestrians in frontline command positions.

Carefully wending my way via a safe path, and taking care to avoid disrupting anyone's tasks or routines, I made his way to the stern to examine one of the new fighter craft. I was intimately familiar with Navy life, and it still came to me as easily as second nature.

The new attack vehicles were, to the trained eye, clearly based on the preceding FA-26 Scythe. The base airframe was nearly identical from the neck back, with the most obvious visual changes centered around the cockpit, engines, and the control surfaces.

I gently brushed a claw across the sleek aircraft's gray titanium skin, and glanced into the open canopy. The seating, pedals, position of screens, and even the HOTAS had been completely reworked for a Gryphon, along with obviously necessary changes to the size of the seating space itself. Presumably Pegasus configured cockpits had accommodations for hooves.

The most glaring new feature outright was a pair of control sleeves for wings built into the seatback, giving the pilot the ability to work a far more complicated set of aerodynamic surfaces than those of a standard aircraft. Back paws for rudders, claws for stick and throttle, wings for instantaneous vectored thrust, flap, and slat micro-adjustments.

I heard the hoofsteps clanking against the deck long before the voice, but it still surprised me slightly when I turned and realized from whom the words had come.

"You know... You were my inspiration. You specifically. To go through with the Conversion. To stick with a military posting after."

The female Pegasus Captain caught the implicit question in my raised eyebrow, and chuckled, glancing up at the fighter craft for a moment, then answering before I could give specific voice to my query.

"I'm a Pegasus, not a Gryphon, sure... But you can inspire people in more ways than one. I saw, through you, and the way you welcomed friends... Good solid fighters too... Into your circle, from all different species... I saw that I didn't have to think of Ponification as a cage. Even though I'm a fighter at heart."

Happily, I offered the Pegasus a wan smile, and exhaled slowly, contemplating and fixing my gaze on the North Carolina itself before I spoke.

"I used to know the previous CO of your ship."

I abruptly fixed my gaze on the young Captain as I continued.

"I didn't like him. He was my superior on the Indianapolis for two years before he was promoted to North Carolina, and we butted heads every single day of those two years. About literally every single thing, large or small, that you can imagine."

The Pegasus chuckled, ruffling her wings reflexively as a brief misting of seawater drifted over the stern, kicked up by the carrier's bow. I continued impassively, twitching only my ears to dislodge a few stray water droplets, and glancing across the deck to Neyla, as she talked animatedly with a gaggle of wide-eyed junior officers.

"I don't know what became of him. That blue Gryphoness over there... She nearly killed the man when he suggested giving up my daughter to save his ship, and crew. I imagine he ran afoul of a Military Integrity Commission panel, and got a dishonorable discharge. But here's the kicker..."

Turning back to the Pegasus, I fixed her with a sad, piercing gaze. I needed her to understand my point. To internalize it, and pass it on.

"...I regret what happened to him. I never liked him. I always disagreed with him. I don't think I can say I even respected him, per se... But I certainly have a respect for his experience, and service."

I held up a claw, and dipped my head slightly, cutting off the question I absolutely knew was coming.

"No. No. I'm not saying that I wish he still had your job. Or any leadership position. He wasn't emotionally fit for it, and I imagine you're an excellent officer. I'd far rather you have that chair, than him, even knowing almost nothing about you. I'm not saying your point is entirely wrong either. And I really appreciate hearing it from you. It's nice to know I haven't destroyed everything I touched here. What I *am* saying, is two things."

I held up a talon to illustrate the point.

"First; There are two *Humans* in my crazy, hodgepodge little family. Right over there. And I wouldn't be here without them, even if they won't be Humans much longer. Earth is in some seriously nasty soup if they stop seeing the value in certain Human traits, because they're so busy condemning Human weaknesses that they can't see anything *else.* I would rather be a Gryphon. You would rather be a Pegasus. They would rather be Gryphons too, and probably will be sooner than later. But we can bring something to the table from our old kind too. Something to cover the flaws of our new kind."

A second talon flicked out on my claw, and the Pegasus' gaze remained intently fixed on me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Second, purely a word of advice from one officer to another; Never ever conflate your distaste for someone with either the utility of their experience, the respect they deserve for any service given in a unit, or the *potential* they have to be a better person. Two of my closest friends were once my enemies. And Hutch? I wanted to break his jaw the first time I met him. And I wouldn't trade any of them for anything. They are, to a one, family now."

The Captain stared down at the deck for a moment, cogitating hard as the wind tossed her short-clipped mane. At last she glanced back up with a genuine smile of gratitude.

"You know something? You're more thoughtful, and insightful, than the media makes you out to be. I didn't realize Gryphons had a diplomatic side."

"We don't. Not naturally, when we're born. But Humans do..."

I raised an eyebrow, and pointed to Alyra, who was busy scrambling over the wing of the freshly fueled second Javelin, hounding the deck crew with questions about its technical specifications.

"...As do fathers."

Chapter 9

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

"No."

Celestia shook her head once, firmly, somehow managing to convey more depth of finality in a single motion, than even the spoken word itself could carry. The graceful arc of her study's extensive silken draperies, framed by the morning sun, lent her seat an almost throne-like aspect that further reinforced her perceived position.

Luna raised an eyebrow, swiveled her gaze slowly to fix her sister in a glare, and spoke with equal finality in spite of the circumstances.

"Yes."

In response to aghast blinks, and flattened ears from her elder sister, the night Princess elaborated, with no less surety for having to stare down her sibling's frustrated muzzle.

The Gryphons, Stan, Shining, and IJ remained silent, with forced masks of impassivity, allowing the Lunar Monarch to advocate for them.

"I've seen enough. Enough death, and suffering, and fear... One of our own is dead. Here. In what should be the place not only of greatest honor, but also safety, for one of his station. Guests, too, have been slain at the hooves of our enemies. On our watch, sister."

Luna exchanged sorrowful, yet steely moments of shared anger, and mourning with both IJ, and Shining as she drove her case home with surprising anger, and fervor.

"I say 'Enough.' We have a duty to protect those we serve. We're not being asked to raise an army for invasion, or conquest. We have allies to defend our borders."

The blue Alicorn shot each Gryphon in turn a knowing glance.

"We're being asked to train our city's defenders to stop being mere figureheads, and truly face foes; As they increasingly must in these dark times. If we leave them defenseless now? Having allies to defend our borders will make no difference in the end. We will fall as surely as a once sturdy wooden beam falls to rot from within, and brings down a castle in the process."

Sildinar inclined his head, and artfully delivered the final lynchpin of the argument, as if to tie off the metaphorical package with a neat bow.

"Of course, we will also be able to bring the immediate threat to a close at the same time. This is by far our best path to achieving that goal, before more blood is needlessly shed."

To the shock of all assembled in the study, Luna included, Celestia's face fell; Not to an expression of anger, or disappointment, or concern, or even deep thought, but to an expression that her sister had seldom, if ever seen on the Solar Monarch's muzzle.

An expression of defeat.

Her ears fell flat, as did her tail, and her wings slumped.

It even seemed to the Gryphons' acute gaze, that Celestia's radiance itself, both in her mane, and to a lesser extent her brilliant coat, diminished slightly.

After a protracted moment of silence, in which only the sounds of breathing could be heard, the older Alicorn finally nodded slowly. When words came forth to accompany the gesture, it almost sounded as if Celestia had aged a decade from exhaustion, and sorrow.

"There is no escaping it then. We must do whatever will grant us the greatest chance at peace, and the most lives spared, over the long term. And... You are, all of you, right. As much as I have wished, and prayed, and willed it not to be so."

At last, Celestia raised her head, ears perked; Defeat's dour frown replaced with steely, pragmatic, thin-lipped resolve.

"What do you need to begin?"

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 8th, Gregorian Calendar

Neyla

"This is either madness..."

Martins tapped one finger firmly against the table-top display, slowly, rhythmically, causing subtle vibrations to ripple across the hologram projected above it.

"...Or brilliance. Did you sleep at all last night?"

The dull blue and green glow of the projection was the only illumination in the office, casting Martins, Fyrenn, myself, Alyra, Skye, and Astris in an almost alien aspect.

With a snort, I shook my head.

"No. And it is madness either way."

I shot Fyrenn the briefest of emotion-filled glances. He briefly, but visibly struggled to pick my stare apart, apparently finding my empathy for his silent struggle to be the only readily discernible thread. It was the most important one by far.

He nodded, and chimed in warmly.

"That being said, it is also brilliance. Either way."

Alyra winked at me, then glanced up at her father, beaming, her adoration and amusement ringing out clearly and simply.

"That's the kind of warrior she is. Smart and decisive."

The words lent fuel to the fires in my soul, a warm joy suffusing my chest in the process.

Martins nodded slowly, and stared into the hologram detailing my proposal. Her voice betrayed little sentiment, beyond her exhaustion, and her curiosity.

"That is why I asked you all here... A little sleep-deprived madness is just what you need when your back is against the wall. It confuses the hell out of your enemies."

Astris cocked his head sharply, and blinked. His voice was full of undisguised shock, and thinly veiled disdain. My opinion of him was falling every time he opened his muzzle.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you cannot seriously be considering this. They're asking you to effectively bet the future of this whole endeavour on the roll of a dice!"

Skye's head whipped to the side, before Fyrenn or I could even finish drawing breath to phrase a response. I shot him an amused, but firm glance coded to say 'No; Let her speak.'

Speak the little tan unicorn did, with abrasive forthrightness, and a sharp warning edge that pervaded both word, and expression. Sometimes I swear that she was a Gryphon in-spirit. Certainly a sister to us all, Gryphon and otherwise, in our little family.

"Listen, telescope-boy, I have had it up to the end of my horn with your sucky attitude!"

Skye jabbed a hoof firmly into Astris' chest, nearly eliciting a chuckle from Alyra. Fyrenn brushed his daughter lightly with the edge of one flight primary; A tiny admonition to keep her mirth to herself, until later.

I found I had to admonish myself internally quite similarly. I wanted to break out in outright laughter, but I grit my beak nonetheless.

The tan Unicorn's rant continued unabated.

"I have been to HELL and back with this messed-up little family of mine. If they say go, you go. If they say stay, you stay. And if they say jump, you jump, and you don't worry about what's below. Hesitate, and you're lost. Gamble? Sure. But we never leave things entirely to chance. That's an exaggeration designed to make you look smarter than you are."

Skye leaned in, her tone dropping to a rumble, as the heat of her breath forced Astris to blink rapidly.

"Put on some brown pants if you have to, but now is NOT the time for platitudes, or by-the-numbers horse-shit. These people you're facing? I worked deep cover inside their ranks. I know exactly what's coming for you, and if they find you equivocating, or cowering, they'll steamroll you, and make the rest of this miserable planet suffer just to spite us all!"

For a brief moment the only sound in Martins' office was the soft trill of the computer, and the hushed whirr of ventilation.

The Councilor herself finally cut the tension, her mind clearly made up. Her visage seemed to almost be chiseled from granite, with each crease and wrinkle illuminated in sharp blue relief. For the first time, I realized how old, and how tired, the woman truly was underneath her mask of determination.

Her voice, however, sounded young, fresh, and as adamant as her expression.

"We should get started. The logistical gymnastics on this deadline would be hard under normal circumstances, let alone pulling it off while keeping each part of the operation compartmentalized."

Fyrenn nodded, and inclined his head, inhaling deeply to steel himself before speaking. In his heart of hearts, I knew he felt an impending sense of fear, and nervousness. The same one I was feeling.

Many lives were about to be placed in our claws, and we knew it all too well.

"You'll notice some missing details upon further review. Some of the final troop placement positions, altitude and heading information, exact numbers for munitions distribution, and certain command sequence timings. Only Neyla, Skye, and I will know these details. They're not even written down. We will relay them to field commanders individually at the last possible moment."

I nodded, and placed one claw on the edge of the holotable, staring thoughtfully at a starship schematic suspended amongst the data.

"I will be taking over the bombing investigation together with Skye. We'll be working either alone, or with the aid of other Gryphons from your colonial security corps as-needed. Nothing of our investigation will be written down, or digitally recorded, until after the launch. Even our discussions with you will omit certain details at our discretion."

Martins nodded once firmly.

"Wise precaution."

Astris' eyes looked, for a brief moment, as if they would pop from their sockets.

"WHAT?! You're talking about thousands of lives! About fuel bottles full of ANTIMATTER! About millions of moving parts, both living and mechanical! And you want to keep details SECRET?! The Councilor and I have the right to know---"

Martins held up a hand for silence, glaring sharply at her assistant. The force of the gesture alone cut off his panicked, offended verbal stream.

When she was sure she had clear air, Martins spoke once more.

"What if the PER are inside our computer systems? They have an exceedingly advanced technological arsenal at their disposal. And who is to say they haven't found a way to bug one of us in a way we can't detect? In spite of all our efforts over the past years, they've always been able to get the better of us, Astris. This is the only sure way to beat them at their own game."

The Councilor fixed her eyes even more firmly on Astris' as she finished the admonition, as if trying to burrow into his very soul, and get her point across.

"My mind is made up. We follow Neyla's new plan. End of discussion. Get started."

I worried that the vote of confidence was premature.

But I was glad of it all the same.

Fyrenn

"Gantry Crews, Report to bay seven, frames two-twenty and two-fifty-five."

My left ear twitched reflexively, making minute adjustments to help me filter the sound of the PA from the drone of turbine engines, the whine of electric motors, the dull but insistent thrum of voices, and the hiss of hydraulics.

The complex didn't just sound as though it were alive; It felt, and looked, and even smelt of energy. Neyla's plan had thrown everything into an organized, but tense, and frenzied turmoil.

A mental image sprang unbidden into my mind; An ant-hill, kicked over, and teeming with workers on all sides. To the uninitiated observer it would look like a chaotic mess, but to a keen watcher the patterns' logistical genius would be revealed.

"Ordinance crew SZ-43 to receiving area Beta nine. Security detail 'Blackjack,' report to terminal gate E-9."

Sensing tiny shifts in airflow, somehow just before they happened, I extended one wing to shield Alyra. A moment later, a stiff gust of grit-filled wind pelted the pair, and a thunderous roar split the sky. I'd long since given up trying to figure out the exact science behind how I could detect changes in the air faster than the speed of light, let alone the speed of a shock front.

Skye understood, and that was enough for me. That, and repeated uses of the words 'quantum' and 'tachyonic.' I had some vague idea what they meant.

Seconds later the storm abated, and the huge passenger aircraft that had caused it touched down on the runway, whipping around the corner onto the taxiway as soon as it had bled sufficient speed.

A dozen similar jets were already being shuffled in and out of the colonist receiving terminal, and the new arrival dutifully took its place in line.

I glanced over my shoulder, and noted seven others just like it stacked up in a holding pattern, waiting for a free landing slot.

Alyra squinted through the settling dust, curiously eyeing the huge lines of eager Humans, Gryphons, Ponies, Zebra, and other assorted creatures making their way out of the terminal.

The Humans were clad in dark navy jumpsuits, with a patch denoting their ship on one shoulder, and a department color emblazoned on their collars. They were the majority of the crowd, but not by as much as I would have expected.

The other beings wore navy sashes, with colored piping, and the patch sewn above the left breast.

Everyone was carrying a small gray duffel bag; I knew it probably contained the only personal possessions that each individual would be allowed to take. There was a general air of drowsiness about many of the colonists, and I realized that a large number would have been abruptly rousted from sleep, and bundled onto an aircraft in the dead of night.

I also knew each colonist, regardless of species, origin, specialization, or rank, was being searched, scanned, and intensively questioned before being granted entry to the complex.

Their belongings were doubtless being thermally scanned, X-rayed, LIDAR-imaged, and hand-searched as well.

Neyla had insisted that even the clothes they arrived with be incinerated. Nothing was being allowed into the facility that couldn't be fully accounted for, and certified inert. No one was being allowed any means to smuggle objects in, not even something as tiny as a sheaf of paper.

"It's strange."

I raised an eyebrow at my Daughter's statement as I reached the side of the main Armory structure, and keyed one talon against the door's DNA scanner.

"A lot of things about this are strange."

Alyra nodded, and one ear flattened in mild consternation, the other pricking up and twitching at a particularly sharp whine from a distant servo.

"Sure... But the strangest thing, to me, is how this will all seem to them..."

She jerked one thumb talon across the tarmac at the lines of waiting colonists as she elaborated.

"Imagine being woken up at oh-two-hundred local, being flown six and a half hours around the planet to this facility non-stop on a crammed military-style flight, spending three hours on security, two on medical check in... You then immediately get loaded into a cryo-tray, and then you wake up."

I paused midway down the entry corridor, sidestepping to make room for a group of Humans and Earth Ponies shoving an immense munitions cart.

Alyra finished the last of her thoughts as she darted out of their way, to my side.

"You wake up on the other side of the galaxy, and all of this? That abrupt wake-up call? Your last hurried memories of Earth or Equestria? The exhaustion? The confusion? The hectic back-and-forth? The launch, if you're flight crew? That was five minutes ago for you. And then you have to go and build a new life. On a new world. Knowing that everyone you knew who isn't waking up with you died over a century ago if they were Human. Or is a lot older than you now if not. And that either way you'll never see them again."

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine, branching out into the edges of my wings as well. I shook myself physically to ward off the pins and needles, doing my best to keep a level, self-assured tone.

"On a beautiful, vibrant new planet. Sure. It's strange, but it's also wonderful. I have to admit, I envy these people in some ways. I always wanted to explore space... And I miss extranet connectivity."

Alyra smirked, and shook her head as we arrived before the low-slung, thirty yard wide entry to the armor bay.

"Given the length of their trip, Skye will have us setup with terabit extranet connections before they're halfway to planet-fall."

I raised a talon, and one eyebrow, adopting a mock-chiding tone, and expression.

"Ah, but as you astutely pointed out, to them it won't feel like any time at all."

"Hey! Feather Dusters! Over here!"

I waved acknowledgement to Hutch and Aston, paused to allow a munitions cart to zip past, then darted across the armor bay with Alyra in tow.

The space was barely two stories tall, and twenty yards wide, but it was nearly four hundred yards long. One side was mostly given over to an access aisle, while the other was filled with recessed alcoves.

Each alcove contained a bevy of mechanical arms, glowing emitters, and other related, enigmatic, equipment. I found my eyes drawn inexorably to Hutch, and Aston however, and the new suits of armor that adorned them.

I liked what I saw, even at first cursory glance.

"What's all this then?"

I tapped lightly at Hutch's left shoulder pauldron with one talon, perplexed by the odd specularity, and surface texture of the plating. It didn't conform to any ceramic, nor any metal that I had ever seen.

Aston shrugged, and hefted a large carbine as she spoke. The weapon looked as if it were related to a standard RAC-7 railgun, in the same way a compound bow was related to a stick drawn back with a three stranded string.

"We're here to prevent casualties. Sometimes the best way to do that is to inflict them on the enemy. It isn't, strictly speaking, against our orders... And it's really the only way we can go on keeping an eye on you."

Chuckling slightly, I shook my head, glancing sideways at my daughter as she began her own examination of the nearest armor bay.

"No, no... I mean what's the story on this new armor? It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen, even in an R&D lab."

Aston snorted and gestured to the nearest open alcove.

"It's been a while since you had a look inside an R&D lab. And the Genesists have the best on the planet."

I raised an eyebrow, and Hutch grinned, elaborating as he began to work the alcove's control panel with only slight hesitation to betray his inexperience.

"EarthGovMil, and JRSF alike, have to use taxpayer money. And we both have to suffer through the slog of the military acquisitions process. These guys have corporate backing, and government backing, both reaching into the trillions, but much less oversight. No red tape. No spend limits. The bleeding edge goes a long way, when you can pay."

I glanced up at the armatures slowly coming to life inside the alcove, and raised one eyebrow. Aston gestured expansively, as if ushering a nobleman through a palace door.

With a sigh, I rose to my hind legs and stepped onto the alcove's central pad, turning to face outwards, and placing my back paws onto two yellow circular outlines denoting the location for one's feet, paws, or other rear limbs when standing bipedally.

Being ambipedal, and flighted, was in my not so humble, nor in any way unbiased opinion, the very best limb configuration ever invented.

Machinery sprang fully to life in an instant, stretching out dozens of mechanical limbs, most of which disappeared into hidden slots in the walls, ceiling, and floor of the bay. From above, blue holographic scan lines descended, imaging my body instantly down to the millimeter.

My beak, jaw, and talons thrummed slightly in reciprocity to the beam's resonance.

For a moment, machinery beneath the floor whirred, and an irregular hum of unfamiliar energy filled the air. Then the armatures returned from their slots, bearing a cornucopia of shaped armor plates.

In the blink of an eye, sturdy gray textured plating covered my back, chest, wing-joints, and legs, with a half-helm finishing off the light-armor ensemble. As the arms retracted, their task complete, the suit's wrist mounted holo-display blinked to life.

What happened next left Alyra and I both speechless, in spite of the many unconventional technologies we had seen, and experienced.

Seemingly from nowhere, accompanied only by a brief blue-green flash of energy, new armor plates appeared, springing forth as if by magic, starting from a series of glowing strips within the existing plates, and continuing outwards.

Segment by segment, the heavier plating materialized, its substantial but surprisingly comparatively light weight coming with it out of nowhere, until I was encased in a full suit of heavy combat armor from ear-tip to tail-tip, with only my face, back claws, and talons exposed. The thinnest wafer of plating somehow managed to cover each and every feather, individually, right down to the ends of my wings, the backs of my ears, and the fan on my tail.

An experimental flex of my right wing proved that the plating was shockingly flexible. I could feel the weight of it, but it was barely as noticeable as a suit of light JRSF armor. Yet somehow, it had the thickness, and apparent durability of a full combat mech-suit.

Aston smirked, visibly glorying in my befuddlement for a long moment, before finally explaining in a smug, clipped tone.

"Thaumatic technology. The light armor acts as a permanent reservoir for shaped energy fields, which can be deployed or retracted in less than a second."

Hutch tapped his suit's wrist, and deployed his own plating to demonstrate, nodding as Alyra rapped one claw harshly against his left arm experimentally.

"It can take three direct point-blank hits from a RAC-7 before it needs to regenerate. And if the energy cores aren't depleted, that takes less than thirty seconds. Glancing blows don't even stand a chance."

Aston sighed, and shook her head, pointing at my left front talons.

"Gryphon talons, Dragon claws, and Changeling chitin are the only naturally-driven surfaces that have shown any effectiveness in breaching it. Knives, even monomolecular blades, don't do spit. Even these need two shots, or one well overcharged hit on a weak point, to take them down."

She hefted her carbine, and tapped the barrel as she finished explaining. I realized what it was even as she launched into her explanation.

"What the PER has been struggling for years to perfect, the Genesists have made field ready in under two. Tri-cyclic fusion-driven infantry particle carbines. Melts standard ceramics like a hot knife through nutribars. Vaporizes basic tritanium plate instantly. Punctures heavy vehicle-grade nano-ceramics in just three shots."

Alyra darted onto the armor pad even as I gingerly vacated the space, both of us gawking all the while at the technological miracle encasing my body.

I couldn't help but ask the single most important question on my mind.

"Can I still fly wearing this?"

Aston nodded as Hutch reset the armor bay, and began the process anew for Alyra.

"Sure, you can fly conventionally, no loss to performance. Or you could do one better."

Before I had time to question her, Aston reached over my shoulder, and tapped one of the controls on my gauntlet. A dozen panels on my back, and wings retracted, and glowing slits sprang to life in their place, blasting out a wave of hot air, and gases. I could feel the temperature gradient wash over my tail.

"In-line mounted micro-impulse drivers. Not quite as fast as a Pegasus, but you could neck-and-neck a Scythe for about thirty minutes at a go..."

Aston flicked her wrist, and deployed her own plating, and impulse drivers alike, lofting herself to the top of the bay in an instant. She hung near the roof for only half a second, before hunkering down, and blasting into the floor at-speed, denting the concrete.

I got the impression she had held back a considerable amount of thrust.

For the sake of the floor.

I immediately decided I needed to set about recreating this system in Equestria. Thaumatics had been mentioned, and I was willing to bet the system could be retooled to use more Thaumatics, and less circuitry. I was also willing to bet Skye would help. I wondered if I could do it in less than a decade, with the right expertise and assistance.

Aston finished her sales pitch with a grin.

"Or you could use them to body-slam someone so far into the ground that they have to pry them out with a crane, and thermite. Apparently they only hit their maximum ISP in vacuum though."

Hutch nodded as Alyra's armor finished materializing into existence.

"Yeah. The Human version has some serious limits too. Only Equestrian skeletons can handle the rigors of sustained high-speed, high-altitude flight, especially the spinal pressures, acceleration, turning, and deceleration. Ours are limited to short, much less powerful micro-bursts. We can't really carry the same size power cells as you either."

Aston chuckled, retracted her plating, removed her half-helm, and ran one hand through her short-cropped hair.

"Skye had a blast with hers. I think she rather likes being able to fly under her own power for once, instead of bumming a ride. She's still a little afraid of the higher throttle settings though."

As if to demonstrate those higher settings, Alyra lifted off the pad, beating her wings reflexively despite the buoyant force of the impulse thrusters.

With a manic grin she hunched forward, tucking her wings into a stoop-like posture, and sped down the bay so fast that she barely had time to turn, and touch her back paws to the far wall, before reversing and soaring the opposite direction.

The wind and impulse gasses of her passage toyed with my ears as she blew by, moving so quickly that she was merely a colored streak to Hutch and Aston.

Alyra touched the far wall once more, pivoted again, and raced back, flaring her wings at the last moment and unintentionally blasting all three of us with air from her reverse thrust maneuver, before deftly touching down on her hind legs.

I ran one claw through my crest to smooth it, grinning as I noted that Hutch, bald and therefore mostly unfazed, was chuckling at Aston's terrible hair predicament.

Aston shot Alyra a mock glare, and raised one eyebrow as she battled with her ruffled follicles.

"Nice landing kid. Real nice."

I smirked, and winked at my daughter.

Couldn't have agreed more.

Skye

"That looks..."

Neyla visibly struggled to find precisely the right balance of words, while I set about preparing the offending piece of equipment in the exact center of the loading bay.

With a snort, I shook my head, finishing the sentence for her, while intently scrutinizing the device with my gaze.

"...Much more menacing than it is. I promise. It's a bit of a bodge-job, so I didn't have the time to pretty-up all the wires, and smooth out the lines. It's all about what it can do, not how much it resembles a piece of Borg technology."

Neyla sat back on her haunches, flattening one ear in confusion.

"Borg...? Is all Swedish technology inherently---"

I bit back a short, sharp guffaw, interrupting mirthfully as my hooves danced across a small holographic interface sprouting from the side of the machine. Gryphons are so cute when they miss references.

"Star Trek, Neyla. It's a Star Trek reference. On so many levels."

She cracked a wry grin, her tail swishing, and her ears perked in amusement.

"I suppose I haven't gotten that far yet. I don't get a great deal of time to consume Human media in the first place. I do admit, however, that I find 'Mister Spock' to be an admirable cultural role model in the Human context. He reminds me very much of Varan."

I grinned, and tapped my right hoof against a physical switch; The tube-covered metal cone split instantly into two parts, joined by central flexible armatures, connected to a suspiciously equine-head-shaped set of metal plates.

Neyla's right ear flicked back, and she glowered at the device, an unspoken promise about what would happen to it if it caused me even the slightest amount of pain written clearly on her beak.

It was unnecessary suspicion, though not for the first time I realized how much I appreciated having a big sister around. A much more real sister than any of the ones I'd been born with, at any rate.

Shoving that line of thought aside, hard, I rolled my eyes, and stepped into the center of the machine, horn flaring to life as I did so. The firm, unworried tone in my voice seemed to allay most of Neyla's remaining concerns.

"Oh please. It's harmless. Not easy to use correctly, to be sure... Maybe five Unicorns alive could make it work... But harmless."

The metal plates snapped to a position millimeters above my temples; Two of the copper contacts on the inner surface even brushed my horn, ever so slightly. There was a tiny electrical jolt, but not enough for me to visibly react. For several seconds, a dull thrum emanated from the housing of the machine, but nothing else happened.

I squinted my eyes, and my muzzle locked into a scowl of pure concentration.

Slowly, dimly at first, then with exponentially increasing speed and luminosity, blue and purple tendrils of light began to snake forth from my horn, wending their way through the device, then out into the Shenzhou's loading bay.

What began as seemingly random tangles of lines soon coalesced into familiar shapes; Ponies, Gryphons, Humans, machines, crates, and vehicles. All in the process of being torn apart by an immense explosive force.

As the projection raced to the edges of the bulkheads, it began to step backwards through time, gas and debris flying inwards, bodies leaping from ceiling, to floor, to a standing position.

A macabre scene in reverse.

Neyla stepped around the translucent, but incredibly detailed forms, making her way almost reverently towards the epicenter of the explosion.

"This almost defies belief."

I snorted again, and blinked, speaking in a slow tempo that betrayed my split focus.

"Nah... All I'm doing is stitching together sensor data from black boxes, holo recordings of the detonation from many angles, and information from post-blast scans, in a way a computer, even an AI, couldn't; Using this thing as a mediation, amplification, and projection system."

The Gryphoness blinked, and swiped one claw gently through the Thaumatic Hologram of the bomb-laden storage crate.

"Well, I still find it to be an incredible feat. What else can your new analysis technique tell us?"

With a smirk, I screwed my eyes shut, mustering further concentration that tugged against the edges of my words. I could feel reams and reams of information crossing the plane of my thoughts, both conscious and unconscious.

Each strand being organized, almost instinctively through the filter of the knowledge I carried, and then forced back out as holographic data.

This was, as the Humans say, my jam.

"Now this might just stretch your sense of possibility..."

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Ninth Day, Celestial Calendar

Shining

The courtyard was veiled in a silence so thick, that my hoof-steps against the familiar worn cobblestone rang out like shots from a gun.

Row upon row of assembled Guards-Ponies stood stock still, their armor glittering silently in the sun, as they drew on thousands of hours of training and discipline to hold perfectly still.

They even breathed in synchronization.

I grimaced internally, reflecting that it was regrettable how much of that time had been spent on learning the disciplines of protocol, pomp, and ceremony, and how little had been spent on useful combat technique.

As I reached the center of the raised steps leading into the palace, my old preferred vantage point for such occasions, I turned those musings into a suitable opening remark, letting it fly with a sharp edge in tone that demanded instant attention, and respect.

"Most of you here know me personally. Many of you have served with me. And all of you certainly know who I am. What you're all wondering now, silently, behind those stony masks of discipline and ceremony, is why I'm here."

Narrowing my eyes, I flattened my ears slightly in a calculated display of intensity, punctuating each word of my thesis statement with a sharp tap of my right hoof against the stairs.

"You. Are. Not. Ready."

The change in attitude was palpable in the air, though not a single Guards-Pony so much as batted a solitary eyelash. I allowed a moment of tense silence to hang on the cool morning breeze, before continuing.

"Each and every one of you are proud, honorable, steadfast patriots; Willing to lay down your life. For your country. For each other. For your rulers. And yet..."

I began to pace slowly along the middle step, sweeping the assembled divisions with a piercing gaze.

"...And yet you are ill-prepared to make that sacrifice *count* for something!"

With a pause, I stiffened to attention, once more allowing my words to sink in before adding to them.

"I have failed you in this regard. I failed to advocate, loudly, and persistently enough to bring about the change that you need. But no longer. Starting from this day, and from now on, we will begin the process of transforming the Royal Guard into a fighting force that aggressors, near and far, will rightly *fear!*"

I moved to the side, making a space for Sildinar, Kephic, and Varan, resplendent in their full combat armor, to take the center of the impromptu dais.

How I envied the gear they carried, as-standard. And how I hoped that would soon change.

"To make that a reality, we welcome special guests from our neighbors to the North-West. For the next week, we will train you as you have never been trained before. You will be sore, and tired, in ways you didn't know were possible. And you will be harder, faster, stronger, and deadlier than you ever thought a Pony could be."

Sildinar nodded, and took the center of the stair, his wings flared slightly to make him seem even larger than he already appeared. The booming thrum of his voice seemed to overpower the enclosed courtyard, as if he had the benefit of Thaumaturgy.

"You are not ready, yet. True. But you are able. I've seen the pride your former commander has in you. It is justified. I've seen a few members of your kind fight, after training alongside more martial cultures. You can, if you will but put yourselves fully to the task, become fighters in your own right. As worthy of the term 'Warrior,' as any Dragon, or Human, or Gryphon."

Sildinar tensed, projecting enormous volume, and stone-clad surety into his voice, his eyes seemingly fired by an internal blaze that threatened to spill out and melt the cobblestone beneath him.

"Make no mistakes. Bear no illusions within yourselves. This process will be long. And painful. And difficult. My kind is born into war. Our very being is steeped in the identity of Hunter. Killer. Fighter. Warrior. To rival the things which we face on a daily basis, you will have to work just as hard as we do, knowing you'll never be entirely as formidable. But you can be as close as you need to. Close enough for others to fear you. And that fear will save countless lives, through wars never fought, and battles never joined, because your enemy will know your name! And even the sound of it will give them pause!"

I nodded once curtly, inhaling deeply, then bellowing words that were half command, half question.

"DO YOU STAND READY?!"

The ground shook as nearly two thousand armor plated right-front-hooves rose, and then slammed down in unison.

Carradan

"And they say I'm dramatic..."

I winced as my comrade shoved one of her gold-clad hooves sharply into the magically-whitened fur of my side. We marched on silently, side by side, each hoof-fall perfectly synchronized as we moved in concert with our assigned Battalion to one corner of the courtyard.

We two Pegasi, along with six hundred sixty three other guardsponies of various species, abruptly came to a halt, still maintaining formation. Absolute silence descended as Varan moved to stand before our unit, hefting an enormous wooden crate.

The Gryphon's level of exertion betrayed just how heavy the contents were, to say nothing of the container's unusual bulk. Across the courtyard the other Gryphons were doing the same with the other two Companies.

Once the crate was safely on the ground, Varan pried the top off, using his talons like an array of tiny crowbars. Sunlight glinted and sparkled off the contents, which elicited excited and awed inhalations from the assembled Ponies.

Even I was impressed, and I'd seen the armor forges of the Gryphons more than once.

Varan dipped one claw into the crate, speaking as he pushed aside the packing straw, and removed one of the beautifully burnished pieces of Gryphic alloy-metal. Out in the clear, it was obviously a helmet, designed for a Pegasus, with aggressive compound curves giving it an aerodynamic profile.

Unlike the fully gold-plated helmets all us Ponies in the courtyard were wearing, the new design was mostly comprised of un-altered Gryphic alloy; A brushed-steel shade and texture that I recognized, through and through, with only small areas of gold and white trim, which were clearly brushed on with metallic paint, rather than actual gold or pearl plating.

"This is a prototype. The newest armor designs for the Royal Guard, straight from our own drafting tables and forges."

The golden Gryphon tossed the helmet to the Battalion commander, who deftly snagged it in her thaumatic field, giving the object a once-over before passing it to the next Pony in line. As the helmet was examined by each of us in turn, Varan continued to elaborate.

"You'll notice that there is now a leather backing. Something those of you with more squeamish tastes will have to learn to ignore. This allows for an internal shock-damping gel layer, of Human design, refined and tweaked for this specific use, which provides greatly increased protection from shock damage, whether from impacts, explosions, or magical bursts."

As the helmet made its way back to the front, and then into Varan's claws once more, he rapped one talon against the surface, producing a tiny shower of sparks.

"With the traditional decorative gold plating removed, and replaced with more subtle hints of gold-infused trim paint, the armor can gain significant thickness, and thus significantly greater protective quotient, without gaining any weight."

Varan dropped the helmet back into the crate, and pulled forth a front hoof-guard, twisting it around in the sunlight so that all could see. With a subtle flick, two wickedly sharp, curved alloy blades popped forth from the sides of the plating, seemingly from nowhere.

"Like Gryphon armor, and like JRSF armor, these prototypes are fitted with many hidden lethal edges. The ones on the hoof-guards in particular are based on our observations of the most effective Changeling combat morphs, and the particular shapes they tend to utilize to greatest effect."

Placing the gauntlet back into the crate, Varan then withdrew a wing-joint guard for a Pegasus, and a horn-cover for a Unicorn as he finished the lecture. Both sported similar modifications, with lethal hidden blades a mere flick away.

"Each class of armor has been specially designed for its species, with varying weights, levels of flexibility, and hidden weaponry that are intended to cover for weaknesses, and exploit strengths. There are special variants, with a stealth paint coating and other specific modifications for the Night Guard. Enough of this armor has already been produced to outfit the entire Day Guard, and Night Guard alike, however the majority of the shipment will not arrive until the end of this month..."

Varan swept the group with a challenging glare, that begged to be answered in kind, allowing a hefty pause to fill the air.

"...So you will be in competition with the other two Battalions to be the first Day Guards to receive this equipment. Training will be delivered in class segments, group physical training, internal competitive matches, and division-against-division opposing force bouts of simulated warfare. The Battalion winning the most simulated 'op-for' engagements... "

The golden Gryphon raised his index talons, mimicking the decidedly Human 'air quotes' motion to denote the Human military phrasing.

"...Will win the early use of this armor. And all the bragging rights therein."

Varan raised one eyebrow, reshuffling the position of his wings, and skewering us all with an expression equal parts challenging glare, and devil-may-care grin.

"From this moment on, you are not simply Royal Guards. I will be treating you, as the Humans would say, as Tactical Marines. And you will be instructed accordingly, drawing from the best martial traditions of Gryphon, Night-Guard, and Human combat knowledge. No differently than I would treat any Gryphon Knight, and no accompanying expectation withheld. So obviously, We will be the winning Battalion. Am I *right* soldiers?"

Six hundred sixty five front right gauntlets rose, and slammed into the ground, with enough force to briefly draw the attention of everyone else in the courtyard.

The thrill of being part of the motion, and feeling the shaking of the ground we had caused, was electric. I suddenly began to see how Fyrenn had gotten sucked into that martial world back in the day. If Human boot camp was anything similar, I wondered how anyone with a fightin' bent to their spirit could resist.

Varan inclined his head, and snorted.

"Indeed."

I exchanged the briefest smirk with IJ, and shot Varan a nearly imperceptible wink. We had never seen much of the golden Gryphon's more 'playful' side, relatively speaking, and we both were looking forward to seeing it used as a tool to hone and teach.

Though I figured IJ was much less likely to admit it aloud, even disguised as a Pegasus again, with the added anonymity that afforded. And neither of us could risk betraying that we had any prior friendship with the Gryphons in the first place, lest we jeopardize our cover.

I had plenty of experience with lying and pretending to get information, not that different from IJ, and I'd had to remind her of that several times. I was a reporter, after all.

Varan fixed both of us in turn with a microsecond-long gaze of encouragement, and recognition, completely imperceptible to all other eyes, before flaring his wings slightly, and snapping the crate's lid closed forcefully.

"Right then! Show me what you're made of."

I was excited. IJ had put me through the wringer more than once already. I knew I had an advantage, and I was interested in testing it on some professionals.

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
December 8th, Gregorian Calendar

Veritas stared at the device, unblinking, until at last the display readout on the chamber's right wall emitted a soft two-tone indicating readiness.

The machine would have looked intimidating to human or Pony eyes; Two curved obsidian pillars, each coming to a point, resembling giant segmented talons rising from a central circular pad. Slits that seemed to be full of living rock. A kind of glowing blue and purple mineral matter punctuated the surface of both pillars.

Organic-looking black tubes sprung forth from asymmetrically placed ports, vanishing away into a spiky conic apparatus suspended from the ceiling.

Veritas tossed her mane reflexively as she stepped onto the center of the pad. Without pause her horn sprang to life, and she silently steeled herself for the trajection process.

The journey over a Null Hypersurface was always mentally taxing; It was one of the few moments Veritas encountered with some regularity that allowed her host's mind some brief, tiny spark of self-assertion.

There was no risk of losing control, of course. Veritas had broken her host's will and soul many years previous. But the incoherent pain of the shattered fragments leftover could cause no small amount of discomfort, incredibly brief though it might be.

With a searingly bright flash of blue, purple, and cyan energy, Vertias' horn made a forked, lighting-like connection of energy with both pillars. The ancient machine thrummed loudly for a brief moment.

And then Veritas vanished from the pad with a loud 'SNAP!' of electrical energy, leaving behind only a microsecond-long teal afterimage.

To the purple and navy not-quite-Unicorn, the world seemed to vanish instead, replaced by the familiar lines and 'colors' of N-dimensional spatial folds. Visual information that would have driven any Human utterly insane to try and comprehend it.

Not that any Human, true Pony, Gryphon, or any other species would have been able to charge the device, much less survive the inter-spatial transition without some sort of faraday cage, or protective pod. Only a Wisp, existing as pure energy, or a container made of the right materials, could make the trip through the Trajection Assemblies.

Most Wisps simply traveled as energy, leaving their host body behind to avoid destroying it.

Veritas was so powerful, exerted such control over her host, and possessed such total integration, that she could dematerialize the host and bring it with her as an energy stream.

Her trajectory was pre-locked. No effort was needed on her part, aside from the initial energy outlay to charge, the effort to dematerialize, the need to brace herself against the sudden resurgence of her host's directionless, endless pain, and the effort to rematerialize the host on the other end.

Both time, and the perception of it, functioned differently on a Null Hypersurface. Something mathematically problematic about their gravitational properties created a sort of temporal aphasia, placing various parts of a traveler's mind subtly out of chronometric synchronization.

Because of the way Vertias was bound to, and integrated with her host, that chronal fragmentation generated feedback loops that allowed the normally closed-off, imprisoned emotions and sensations of the host's mind to briefly brush her own.

Though her trip only took 0.68 seconds by Terran, or Equestrian measurement, it lasted nearly 11 seconds from Veritas' timeframe on the Hypersurface. The temporal aphasia made it seem somehow both infinitely shorter, and just over twice as long, at the same time.

The sensation was best approximated by describing a truly primal scream of pain, in auditory, emotional, and physical dimensions.

Something akin to the sound some beings made when their skin was set on fire with superheated plasma, either for Vertias' amusement, interrogation, or experimental purposes. She was quite familiar with the sound, and the unique emotional signature beings under such duress produced.

She often wondered, on her Trajection trips, how some lesser beings seemed to be able to hold out for minutes, or hours experiencing such pain.

Abruptly, the minor ordeal was over, and as always it was worth the brief prick of discomfort.

To some, the pain of the host's scream would have been enough to break their own mind in twain. For Veritas, it was comparatively little more than the sting of an injector needle.

Two indoctrinated Diamond Dogs, clad in black, glittering armor, made of the same minerals as the Trajection device, and covered in similar glowing slits, stood flanking the receiving chamber's doors.

Just below the pad stood three Equine forms; Two skeletons with glowing eye sockets, clad in similar combat armor, scorpion-like tails poised above their heads, and one fleshed-form.

An outside observer would have though the pastel Unicorn to be sorely out of place, but Veritas could sense his mind, the same way she could sense the minds of the two skeletal guards, and to a lesser extent the minds of the Diamond Dogs.

The chamber, made of a similarly shaped mineral in slightly lighter gray, with perfectly smooth surfaces broken only by sharp lines where necessary, was intimately familiar to Veritas.

She stepped off the platform, and through the door, her guards taking up immediate flanking positions as the Unicorn began to brief her.

"All systems are prepared for separation, and appropriate personnel recalled. We're ready on your order."

As her hooves fell on the surface of the ancient corridor with the clack of keratin against particle-synthesized, laser-sculpted basaltic alloy older than all life on Earth, Veritas nodded curtly, speaking with the same clipped manner.

"It is given."