Chapter One: Just What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

The Potion swirled in the flask, the nanites glittering in the dim light. The few flickering bulbs overhead tinted the magical fluid a dull amber. Reinforced plating held the vault door for the moment, but between the plasma cutter and the pounding fists, that wouldn’t last much longer.

Claws tightened on sword and rifle, wings twitching in anticipation. The door was kicked in, and a signal screech went up.

The battle had begun.

One week prior, eight days before Christmas

“Are you certain of this?” came the question for what seemed like the tenth time. A hand came down, smacking the table and vibrating their lunch.

“For crying out loud, Barry, YES, I’m sure! Now stop asking!” was the exasperated response. The first man rubbed at the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Sorry, Thomas, it’s just... hard to believe. You, all for conversion? Considering your father...” Barry said, then stopped as Thomas put up a hand.

“Actually, especially considering him. You didn’t catch the newscasts after what happened in Manhattan, did you?” he asked, then dug into his alfredo, synth chicken and all. Wasn’t bad, in his estimation. Barry took a bite from his veggie burger, blinked, and eyed it.

“The Equestrians weren’t kidding, this isn’t half bad. And no, I didn’t. What about them?”

Thomas shook his head, then swept his brown hair out of his eyes. “The Gryphons, Barry. Military types, like what I wanted to be growing up. Irish Sparta? sign me up! If you’d seen the photos, you’d understand,” he declared, pointing his fork at his friend. Barry snorted, and took another bite in answer.

“So,” the larger man said, peering over his cobalt shades and quirking an eyebrow, “you feel like, what, you’ll find acceptance that you never got from daddy? are you kiddin’ me? This sounds like an ‘I hate you, so I’m running away’ kinda bullshit excuse, man. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve heard about them, what they’re capable of, the culture, all that shit. Haven’t seen photos, but I can respect that. At the same time, you haven’t hashed out nothin’ with your old man. Settle that before you go traipsin’ into a Bureau, will ya?”

“He won’t listen, dipshit, don’t you think I’ve tried? Bad knees and screwed up bones suck and deny me anything in terms of Earthgov over here, but conversion fixes that, which leaves me wide open for a Gryphon option, if they’ll take me,” Thomas said emphatically, going through his alfredo a little more, then stopped, smiling a little, “besides, nice side effect of being on that side of the barrier? actual meat. None of this synth shit. That alone would make it worth it.”

“A-ha! So the truth outs itself at last! You just want a proper steak!” Barry laughed, then sobered, despite the smile. “Still. You know he ain’t gonna take it well, buddy,” he said quietly.

“I don’t plan on telling him. He can deal with it and have his stupid little bullshit wanna-be ‘holy war’. I don’t want any part of it, and never did. You gonna breathe a word of this to him?” Thomas looked up through bangs fallen into his eyes again.

“He couldn’t bribe me enough. You’re my best friend, shit, we went through school together, we’ve been friends since, what, fourth grade? I’ll back you all the way. As long as you’re happy. That’s what matters, man. Just write sometime, will ya?” Barry answered, stoic in expression, but his eyes betrayed his worries.

“... Thanks, Barry,” he replied, going back to eating.

“Hey, what are friends for, right?” the big man asked rhetorically with a shrug, and started in on his fries.

The Bureau was smaller than expected, in some regards. Rooms were tighter, more like a hotel than real open living quarters. Gareth sighed in relief as he did a walk through. They took his advice and installed both north-facing windows and a skylight. Not much could punch through the new crystalline structure that comprised the glass, so the possibility of attack was reduced enough for his liking. The diffused sunlight coming in, despite the terrible slate sky above, did wonders for his mood. It wasn’t home, but it helped.

“Enjoying the view, Gar?” came a female voice along with a knock. He turned, and grinned happily.

“For the moment, Tess. How’s the kitchens?” he answered the arctic white and deep blue female leaning against the doorway. Tesseth had ‘been around the block’, as the humans had termed it, and had seen more combat than he had, but to her credit, she was terrifying in close range, where he preferred to pick targets off.

“Beke’s looking them over now. If he calls them ‘adequate’, that’ll be good enough for me. Just a matter of getting the food in that WE like, rather than appealing to the ponies and us being an afterthought before now. I hear that first convert, Fyrenn, has gone through a lot to make sure we get well-fed. It’s nice to have some support on this side of the barrier,” she said. Gareth nodded, eyes closing in thought, his amber head drooping a little. “Tired?” she asked.

“A little. That flight really took it out of me,” he admitted. Tesseth approached him and patted his shoulder.

“Get some sleep. We’re here for a couple months yet, you know. We have time,” she said. He nodded again, and stifled a yawn from his beak with a claw.

“Good point. I just hope Beke doesn’t break anything. I hear the cook’s a real roughclaw about their gear,” he said, sleepiness infiltrating his tone.

“He’s a chef. They’re ALL roughclaws, no matter what the species,” Tess laughed. Gareth snickered, and then took one more look around the room.

“Rooms are clear, and actually half-decent, for being a little smaller than we’re used to. They’ll suffice. Consider that my official report, eh?” he said, and then staggered towards the doorway, waving a claw in farewell.

“Fair winds in your dreams, Gar,” Tess called, then left the room, heading for the entryway to the complex. Her answer was a door closing and the thud of Gareth hitting a nest of pillows somewhere down the hallway. She shook her head, and continued her rounds. They still had inspections to do.

Thomas Lawrence was... tired. Tired was a good way of putting it. Long day, despite lunch with Barry, who he knew he was going to miss. Hopefully, this would work out. Hopefully. He readjusted the pack on his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Here goes... something, I guess,” he said to himself, and stepped through the doors of the Trenton, New Jersey Conversion Bureau. A pony looked up from her notes, and smiled.

“Good evening, sir. Are you here for Conversion?” she inquired politely.

“I am, actually. Looking to see if I match up to the Gryphons at all, in fact...” Thomas replied, trailing off. He was nervous, and that was amplifying by the minute, now that he was here.

“Good to have you, then. Vineyard Terrace, pleased to meet you. What’s your name?” she asked, pencil in her muzzle to tap at a DaTab.

“Uh...” he started, then choked. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thomas Lawrence,” he croaked.

“Age?” she asked after she entered that information.

“I’m twenty-seven,” he said, head tilting in confusion.

“Race, human, caucasian... and enter,” Vineyard murmured, and then nodded as his information popped up. “Okay mister Lawrence, you’re in the system. Room six, if you please, down the hall on the left here, third door on the right, you can get settled tonight and one of the Gryphons will come get you in the morning for the beginning of what they term the 'interview process'.”

“Th-thanks,” he said, mouth suddenly dry, and he headed for his newly-designated room. He was rather surprised when he opened the door. Celtic knotwork greeted him in the form of a black and forest-green knit blanket on the tightly-sheeted bed, along with a letter of welcome on actual paper. He picked it up, eyes glancing over the generic text, but he couldn’t deny the beauty of the written script or the feel of actual paper. He dropped his bag on the floor, and settled it under the bed with a minimum of wedging. He eyed the bed again, then removed a credit stick, and tossed it on the bed firmly. It bounced, and his eyebrows went up. Apparently they knew how to properly make beds, no matter what the species at these bureaus. Chalk up another point for the opposite side of the barrier. He re-pocketed the stick, and shucked his clothes off, stifling a yawn. Sleep. Definitely sleep. He laid down on the bed after pulling the sheets back, and pulled them and the soft blanket up. Comfy, he dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

He jerked awake what seemed like only minutes later at a pounding on his door, before it was opened. A stern-looking brown and tan gryphon leaned against the doorway as Thomas looked at him blearily.

“Rise and shine, Thomas,” he sing-songed in a gravelly voice.

“I’ll rise, but I won’t shine... what time is it?” Thomas mumbled, groping for his pack and rummaging for fresh clothes blindly.

“Five thirty a.m., actually. All potential newfledges are to undertake what’s a normal regimen after Conversion. Come on, on your feet. You’ll wake up after a nice breakfast, some caffeine and a brisk run,” he said, clapping his claws. Thomas yanked on a pair of warm socks, shorts, and a shirt quickly, unmussed his hair, and nodded his readiness. The Gryphon led him out of his room, with Thomas stifling a yawn despite himself.

“I’m Tiyo. You’ll meet the others in short order. After we eat, wake up a little, digest and run, you’ll have your interview. Be honest, truthful, and brief. Don’t explain further than you must unless asked. This is as much to keep from wasting your time as ours,” he said. Thomas was listening, and made a noise in the affirmative, but his eyes were drawn to the paired sword and what seemed to be a compact pike on his back, in between his wings. Tiyo caught him staring, and a smile tweaked his beak ever-so-slightly. “Yes, these are my weapons of choice. The pike is more than it seems, however. I’ve kept my bow in my room. The chef’s a pain about projectile weaponry not being allowed in his eatery,” he explained.

Thomas grinned despite himself. “As I understand it, almost anything can be a projectile weapon with your species, isn’t that right?” he asked. Tiyo chuckled, wings ruffling a little in amusement.

“That would be correct, actually, yes. Don’t tell the cook that, though,” was the reply. Thomas was led through the entryway he’d come in through several hours back, and through a pair of solid steel doors that had a metal ladle and spatula for handles.

The cafeteria was a blaze of chattering chaos as the doors opened. The noise level woke Thomas the rest of the way up, and he looked about at the expansive room. High, heavy steel tables, sturdy chairs with cushions... and a lot more folks than he expected for this early. Tiyo reached out and closed his mouth for him, and chuckled. “You get used to the noise. It’s worse at lunch,” he said over the din, and led him over to a table where there were five other Gryphons and a pair of humans seated. The latter didn’t look anywhere near awake themselves, and as Thomas was pointed to a seat at the corner of one end of the table, a tray full of classic breakfast foods was slid over.

The smells hit him almost before the sight of it did, and it stirred long-ago memories of things he’d only seen in holo-programs and ancient food ads. Pancakes, heavy on the syrup, two pats of butter, stacked five high and steaming. Three eggs over easy, with freshly-cracked pepper. What looked like four sausage links awoke his inner ravening carnivore, as if the matching four strips of bacon weren’t enough. Add to that the pile of hash browns, and you had a meal fit to kill someone over. Thomas dove in on it like a starving man. The assembled Gryphons started laughing, and he looked up, mouth covered in syrup, licking it from his face.

“What? s’ good! Besides, we don’t get food like this. I’m enjoying this like you wouldn’t believe,” he said. A Gryphon across from him with ocean-blue feathers did that same subtle smile that Tiyo did earlier, and reached out a claw in greeting.

“Get used to it. You pass, you’ll get food like this all the time. Derani, nice to meet you,” she said. Thomas took her claw and shook.

“Thomas Lawrence, pleasure to meet you,” he said, smiling.

“You’ve already met Tiyo,” she started, and he inclined his head, digging into a few baked potatoes, “there’s Tesseth to my right here, Gareth next to her, Beke next to him, and Merkus is about to join us,” she said, pointing behind Thomas. He turned, and was greeted by a wheat-colored Gryphon, who nodded at him silently and took the free seat between him and the other humans on Thomas’s side of the table.

“I’m Jason,” said the first, sporting rather an impressive farmer’s tan offset by his red hair, leaning around Merkus and offering his hand. Thomas shook politely.

“And I’m Andrew,” the black-haired coffee-toned man said with a wave.

“Hiya,” Thomas said, twirled his fork, and finished off his sausage, then looked regretful that there wasn’t more. He was just left a few bites of hash browns. He hadn’t realized just how truly hungry he was until he got actual food in front of him for the first time.

“Finish it,” Tiyo advised quietly. Thomas looked at him curiously, and the Gryphon nodded at Thomas’ tray. “Finish it. You’ll need the energy and carbohydrates. Trust us on this.” Gareth and Derani nodded in affirmation when he glanced around the table, and he did as he was told. Stomach was full, but a very good full.

“Wow... that’s good eating,” he commented idily. Merkus snorted a laugh.

“Glad you like it. We’ll give you a few minutes to digest a little bit of it, then it’s time for a run,” Tiyo said. Thomas sat back, and his eyes closed. He could feel himself wanting to doze off again. The wonders of a large, filling meal and the lethargy that followed.

“Don’t go falling asleep on us. We heard you got in around ten thirty last night, but once you’re up, you stay up until you’re either taking a watch out in the field, or you’re done for the day with whatever you’re doing,” Tesseth said. Thomas nodded sleepily and raised a finger without opening his eyes.

“Old adage here for us humans. ‘Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, never lie down when you can sleep’” he quoted.

“A Mercenary’s Field Guide, page 378” Andrew quipped, making Jason snicker. The Gryphons looked at each other, and Beke smirked.

“Oh yeah. They’re going to fit in just fine, even if they don’t pass,” he snarked playfully.

“Eh, provided we don’t kill them first. Humans break easy, remember,” Gareth answered.

“Humans are resourceful, thank you very much. Something to be said for adrenaline and sheer willpower,” Jason replied.

“Point to your species in that respect,” Derani admitted.

Thomas opened his eyes and rubbed them, then stretched carefully, mindful of Merkus and Tiyo on either side. Gareth clapped his claws, startling the nearby ponies, and let out a breath. “So! How about that run, hmm? By the time we get outside, it’ll be six fifteen, and we can put you through your paces until the sun’s due to come up at seven. Let’s go.”

Jason was the first on his feet, Thomas right behind him, and Andrew was a little slower to get up, holding his stomach.

“So full...” he groaned, making Tiyo shake his head a bit and laugh.

“You’ll burn it off,” he said, as the rest of the group got to their feet. Thomas had a looming feeling of dread about this, somehow, judging by the devious look Beke wore.

Author's Note

So, here goes... something. My thanks to Guardian_Gryphon for letting me play around in the Gammaverse. I can only hope I do it justice.