The Cabinet was going back into session.
Higher military powers in Earthgov were made aware of the stolen atomizers, now in the hooves and hands of the PER, early on. The members of the HLF who were part of the military, had immediately relayed the disturbing new turn of events.
As the group awaited the arrival of Mr. Stalin, Mr. Utah found himself locked in an unpleasant conversation with Mrs. Juno, "I hear you met with our benefactor recently. How was she?"
Mr. Utah glared, "Icy. As always. The details don't concern you. I alone serve as our liaison."
"A fact not all of us appreciate."
"A fact none of you have the power to alter. Stop..." he took a pull on his cigarette, and let out the noxious fumes in her direction, "Stop 'blowing smoke' Juno. You have ambition, but you don't have the pull to match."
The woman glowered, and looked as if she was ready to launch a verbal World War Three, when Mr. Stalin abruptly arrived, "I want to know how the hell this happened, and I want to know yesterday."
Dr. Omaha, another member of Normandy Section, was ready with an answer, "We now believe, through evidence the Bureau has doubtless also become party to, that the PER has some kind of connection to Gavin/Schummel Biomedical. They're using this tie to acquire and covertly ship items they would otherwise have a more difficult time accessing without alerting us sooner."
Mr. Hurricane nodded, "I can confirm ConSec, and the new military wing they're creating, are probing Gavin/Schummel. We will be privy to anything they uncover."
Mr. Stalin grunted, "Alright then. Next question; How do we intend to prevent the PER from going through with the intended use of the atomizers? We can be darn sure Earthgov won't succeed in stopping them, with their half measures and poor intelligence. Give me options."
Mr. Utah stood, suppressing a satisfied smirk, "I believe *I* can offer a tenable offense."
The snow had increased in intensity by the time Neyla awoke to relieve Fyrenn of his watch.
It wasn't a blizzard, but it wasn't flaking anymore either. It was a steady, accumulating snowfall.
Fyrenn was lost in wonderment, gazing at the way the light of the moon, even dulled as it was by clouds, was playing off each flake. He had once been told, by his grandmother, that even the acid snowflakes on earth were each individually unique. His new eyes could verify that Equestrian snow at the very least, conformed to that old wives' tale.
Neyla tapped him on the shoulder, which brought him forcefully out of his musings,
"Oh. Hello. Sleep well?"
She shrugged, "Well as can be expected. Anything out there?"
Fyrenn sighed, "I'm sure there is, but I haven't seen it. I can feel it though. Deep down."
"Something to be worried about?"
He shook his head, "Don't know. I don't think so. Probably rabbits."
Neyla took up a position beside Fyrenn, at a comfortable distance for him, imitating his relaxed pose, "So... Your head stopped spinning yet?"
"Not even close. I can't even *begin* to sort out all my scientific questions, let *alone* my spiritual and emotional ones."
Neyla chuckled, "Well I can answer some of those scientific questions. The rest are your problem."
Fyrenn grunted, "Don't I know it. So... I guess I've only really worked out one question, that uncreatively being; 'What are the precise mechanics'?"
Neyla nodded and launched into an explanation, "It probably doesn't suit your scientific sensibilities, but I'd have to start by explaining that every creature has a magical field. You called it, what, Thaumatic?"
Fyrenn indicated affirmative, Neyla forged ahead, "The egg? Think of it as a 'catalyst' that we create. The entwined 'Thaumatic' fields of a mated pair are the 'ingredients.' The final component is emotion, to drive the reaction proper. Love. None of this will, of course, work unless the pair is mated, because their fields, and emotions, wouldn't be properly...
Tuned I suppose is the word. Satisfied?"
Fyrenn laughed quietly, "More or less. How do you know so much about this?"
"Does not every well adjusted adult human thoroughly understand the species' reproductive methods?"
"Eeeh... No not always. Our culture has hang-ups about it. But Point taken. This is another of those things you just learn growing up Gryphon."
Neyla nodded, "So how about *you* answer *me* a burning question?"
"Shoot."
"Why *exactly* are you so averse to having a mate? Rarely does one eschew the social drives behind most living beings without reasons beyond 'I want control and security.' What happened to you? Who hurt you?"
Fyrenn saw an opportunity, and decided to be bold, "I'll tell you... If you'll tell me why you seem to hit the roof every time Changelings, or anything associated with them, comes up."
Neyla stiffened, and for a moment Fyrenn was sure she was going to rebuff him. Then she sighed, "Well. Fair is fair. You answer me first, then I'll answer you."
Fyrenn mimicked her sigh, "Where to begin?"
Over the next half hour, he explained his history with Gilchrist, and everything leading up to the moment in the Council chamber when the grenade went off.
Neyla gasped, and winced a few times, but otherwise remained silent.
At the end she shook her head, "So this event. It scarred you."
Fyrenn inclined his head, "I guess. I've never really been party to the formative stage of a healthy romance, even though I've known many who were already in healthy relationships of all sorts. All I can think about, even when I can see the illogical nature of it, is what happened with... Him. He let an infatuation destroy him, and in a sense me. I can't stand the idea that I could *become* that monster myself."
Neyla's expression was, as near as Fyrenn could tell, midway between intrigue, horror, sympathy, and a deep deep sadness. Her ears were laid back, and her eyes spoke volumes.
She inhaled deeply, "Well... If it is any sort of consolation to you, I can tell you that you're not that kind of person. You have a better spirit. A deeper honor. You couldn't be one of us if you didn't."
Fyrenn smiled wanly, "Well thank you. It's not likely to change my heart, or take out the scars, but it does relieve the pressure, some, to hear that."
He shifted, and lazily inscribed a random pattern in the snow with a talon, "So... Fair is fair, how about you? Why are Changelings so touchy?"
Neyla shook her head, and grinned mischievously "I said I'd tell you. I did *not* elect to say when. You need your rest, and I need time to think through what I'm going to say."
Fyrenn chuckled, "That is *not* fair. Tomorrow. You'll tell me tomorrow."
She feigned exasperation, "Very well, tomorrow. Now. Get some rest, you'll need it."
Fyrenn made his way over to the misshapen lump of feathers and fur, and worked his way carefully into Neyla's original spot.
Falling asleep was easy; The comforting breathing patterns of friends and family, and the warmth of the same, produced a deep seated reassurance, and inner peace.
The ConSec situation room in the Manhattan Bureau was playing host to history.
Three military Generals, two Earthgov Councilors, the heads of ConSec, top ranking officers in Celestia's Royal Guard, and the son of the Gryphon King were present to inaugurate, officially, the first multispecies military unit in history.
Ostensibly, the Joint Reconnaissance and Strike Force would report to no single government directly. Instead accountability would be maintained by a 'board of directors' made up of an equal number of ranking military officers from all three governments.
Those officers would not be directly responsible to their governments for the actions of JRSF, but indirectly it was in their best interest to maintain accountability on some level. In this way, order and lawful operating procedure of some description could be maintained, while still giving the JRSF unparalleled autonomy and freedom to engage the enemy.
The Board would have nine slots initially, three officers from each of the three races.
It was all but certain that Sildinar would be filling the first position for the Gryphons.
The Pony positions weren't causing much of a stir, leaving the Human slots as the major question everyone was gnawing on.
Humanity would be dragging the most politics into the arena. The Equine members of the board would doubtless help to counterbalance the appreciably more militaristic Gryphons, leading to balance in that respect. That left Humans something of a wild card, and the steering rudder of the whole endeavor.
The mental and emotional state, military experience, and tactical qualifications of the homo sapiens board members would be a strong force in deciding whether JRSF erred on the side of Equine passivity, or Gryphic militarism.
A perfect mix of candidates, in a perfect world, would be able to ensure precise balance. But, Hutch ruminated as he sipped a glass of punch, the world was far from perfect, and the politics behind the candidates would likely undo any chance at true balance. The best that could be hoped for, in his opinion, was a set of strong military candidates who would side with the Gryphons' viewpoint.
The alternative, politicians who would be more easily swayed by the pacifist Equestrian mentality, could end up hobbling the organization before it ever accomplished anything.
It wasn't that the Ponies' points were invalid, merely too extreme at times. Hutch firmly believed that the only solution to the twin terrors of the PER and HLF was to hit them as hard, fast, and mercilessly as possible, giving them no quarter or time to regroup.
Some of the Ponies, even a few of the Royal Guards, who supposedly had some sort of 'blessing' that allowed them to countenance more violence than usual, advocated *negotiation.*
The very thought made Hutch snort derisively into his punch.
Negotiation was all well and good when you had two legitimately governed sides operating a pitched battle over resources, or land. A great many lives could be spared with shrewd deals cut at the table of peace, trade, and bargaining.
But when ideals, religion, and extremism were involved, there could be no negotiating, especially not when two of the sides were terrorists, not even legitimate governments.
The HLF were hellbent on their xenophobia, and the PER might as well have been religious fanatics given how zealously they worshipped Celestia, Luna, and the very concept of Equine existence.
"I think they made it with real oranges."
Hutch glanced over his right shoulder to find that General Lantry, decked out in his dress whites, had quietly excused himself from a gaggle of reporters, and made his way across the room to Hutch's quiet corner.
"Makes you wonder what it's going to be like... Living in a world without synth food." Hutch swirled the fruity brightly colored concoction, and downed the remainder of the liquid.
Lantry chuckled, "It will be like Thanksgiving all the time, but with sweet potatoes that *don't* taste like the gunk they cleaned out of a Scorpion's engine block."
The general snagged two fresh cups of punch from a passing server, passing one to Hutch, "Listen... Hutch... We need to have a word. In private."
Hutch nodded, and the two men slipped across the room, and through the doors into Hutch's office, before the press, or politicians, had a chance to waylay them. Hutch locked the doors, and tinted them to opacity with a practiced swipe of his finger against the desk mounted controls.
Lantry sighed, "When I accepted my promotion into the upper brass, I didn't think it would come with the proverbial ball and chain of those mess-mongering diplomats and their damnable 'agendas.' But eventually I learned that as many strings as they can pull you around by, you can have twice as many to jerk them around."
Lantry paused and sipped his punch, then crossed the room to stand beside Hutch, "I've got too long, and too radical a record to have a shot at this new 'Board of Directors.' But I also have some long strings to pull... They're looking for younger blood, a ConSec officer would have a good shot, and... To be honest? We need your kind of experience, and go get em attitude."
Hutch's eyebrows shot up, "You want me to move out of ConSec?"
Lantry shook his head, "No you keep your active designator in ConSec. You do lose your position here at the Bureau, but there's a promotion in it for you, and... you could do *a lot* of good on the board. If it's my favors that get you in, then you don't owe the devils in monkey suits anything... That leaves you free to go with your gut. Because that's all I'd ask in return."
Hutch stared into his cup, as if he would find answers swirling amidst the carbonated fizz, "What about Aston? She could probably win her way in on merits alone..."
Lantry shook his head, "She already accepted a field-level command position. She wanted a chance to work with the Gryphons, maybe find herself a sponsor for entry into their Conversion program."
Hutch looked genuinely surprised, "I know she's the type... but I had no idea she was thinking so seriously about it."
Lantry chuckled, "You might want to cultivate a closer relationship with that friend of yours... Sildinar. We all have to go sometime Hutch, even us old dogs who hold out the longest. It'd be nice to have someone to share a new life with, and Laura is as good for you as you are for her.
But for now, we need you on that board. Besides, Sildinar is on it, and that's another way to stick close to him, if that's a plan you got a shine to follow through on. What do you say?"
"I don't suppose I have a lot of time to consider?"
Lantry smirked, "All of five minutes. I have thirty different Councilors breathing down my neck with thirty different candidates, all asking for my endorsement. This is, as those gosh-awful internet ads say, 'A limited time opportunity.' "
Hutch stared into his punch for several more seconds, before glancing up, "Alright. I'll take it.
If only because of the old saying. 'You want something done right, do it yourself.' "
Lantry clapped him on the shoulder, "Good man. That's the spirit. I want to see you in my office, tomorrow 0800 sharp. Brigadier General."
"Good morning!" Fyrenn groaned as Carradan's jovial voice hit his brain with all the force of a back hoof, even as Carradan's actual back hoof hit his side with the force of a freight train.
"Unnnngh. I take it you enjoyed your warm, restful, uninterrupted, full night's sleep?"
Fyrenn pried his eyes open in time to see Carradan nod.
"Good. Don't hit me in the morning. I might hit back."
Carradan chuckled and fell to donning his saddlebags.
Fyrenn set about gearing up himself. He was the last one up, much to his chagrin.
IJ had woken everyone else just before dawn, according to Kephic, and they had elected to let him sleep in a few minutes since he wasn't used to the cold, or the strange watch schedule.
Varan passed him some leftover boar meat, apparently it had been heated on the coals of the fire, which had since been buried under a small mound of snow. Fyrenn gratefully devoured the meal, and then cleaned and stashed the skewer in Carradan's pack.
Neyla and Kephic were busy debating a plan for picking up the Ruby Claws' trail.
From what Fyrenn could hear, they had agreed it would be best to spread the group out, and were hashing out a pairing schedule.
In the end, they came to an agreement, and Kephic briefed the group, "We're looking for anything; Pawprints in the snow, remnants of a camp, unnatural movement of prey animals. Anything that could give away the Pack's position."
The speckled Gryphon cast a glance at Neyla, "We want to try spreading out, in pairs, at maximum sight distance. Fyrenn, Neyla wants to pair with you for the morning. I'll take Stanley, Varan you and IJ can be the rightmost pair. Any objections?"
No one spoke, Stanley shook his head. IJ shrugged her wings, "Seems logical."
Something occurred to Fyrenn, and he gestured to the sky, "If the weather turns for the worse and visibility suddenly goes down, I think we should have a pre-determined plan. When we ran search grids in Special Forces, the protocol was to stop, turn to face the middle group using the compass, and the outer groups would work their way in to rendezvous in the center."
Varan nodded, "A sound strategy."
Neyla and Fyrenn spent the first half hour in uncomfortable silence. Fyrenn's job was to scan down and left, Neyla would look down and right, as well as ensuring that Varan and Carradan stayed within their range of sight at all times.
Since a Gryphon's maximum sight distance was well over six miles at such an altitude, the group was effectively covering a twenty four mile swath with their collective eyes.
Carradan and IJ couldn't see as far, but they proved useful in making quick runs to the ground, and back, to make a preliminary examination of anything that looked suspicious.
Their preternatural, nearly supersonic speed in accomplishing the task allowed the group to progress at a good pace.
Finally, just as Fyrenn was on the verge of trying to get the conversation moving, Neyla began speaking of her own volition, "A promise *is* a promise. But understand that I wouldn't be telling you this if you hadn't first told me something of equal weight. I am not keen to trust new friends so soon, and you will shortly understand why."
Fyrenn wordlessly nodded, and let her continue at her own pace.
"As oddly coincidental as it may sound; I feel your exact pain. I know precisely what betrayal is like, particularly where love is concerned."
Fyrenn gaped, and almost forgot to keep his eyes on the snow and ice below, "I thought infidelity and betrayal were exceedingly rare, if not impossible, for our species?"
Neyla nodded, "They are. But I didn't fall in love with one of our species. Of course, I didn't know that until it was too late. That was the betrayal. That's why I, perhaps more than any Gryphon, have cause to hate Changelings."
Fyrenn sucked in a breath sharply through his clenched beak ,"Oh no..."
Neyla nodded, "Yes. To make a long, painful story short and bearable; I once met a male who I thought of as a potential mate. He was charming, accommodating, kind, loving, and he had, or so he claimed, a small clan. It seemed like a dream come true."
Fyrenn was doing his best to hold back tears. Neyla's voice betrayed the emotional turmoil she was laboring under, and in the sub-zero temperatures, tearing up would be an uncomfortable and painful experience.
"If you don't want to go through with this, you don't have to."
Neyla shook her head, "No. I've started, I may as well finish. It wouldn't be fair to leave you wondering in any case, though I'm sure you can guess most of the rest."
She paused for a long moment. Fyrenn occupied himself with clearing some of the snow from his head feathers as Neyla collected her thoughts. With a sigh, she continued, "The Changelings want, very badly, a sample of our code of life. Their advantage is in infiltration, but they've always been unable to adjust to our cultural climate long enough to collect a sample and escape. Thanks to me, they nearly succeeded."
Fyrenn shook his head, "They were... Are bound to learn. If I may impart some advice that I rarely follow, but we both should; Don't blame yourself for events outside your control."
Neyla snorted, "That's a nice sentiment. But I think we both know that emotional scars aren't so easily swept aside by logic. In any case, he had managed to get a sample of life code... 'Genetics,' and was merely biding his time until he could escape in such a way as to ensure he'd reach his hive long before we knew he was gone."
Fyrenn shook his head, "But you figured him out first."
"Yes. We were on a hunting expedition, going after a lone Diamond Dog Troll who had tried, unsuccessfully, to fulfill a bounty placed on a Gryphon living in one of our outlying settlements. When we caught up to him, we found him already nearly incapacitated from the injuries he sustained trying to carry out his mission."
"I assume you put him out of his misery."
Neyla inclined her head, "That task fell to him... To the Changeling, as he supposedly held the highest rank in our party. But he hesitated to deliver the killing blow. Most races don't consider it palatable to kill an unarmed incapacitated opponent, even if they have been sentenced to death already."
Fyrenn sighed, "And that was enough to clue you in?"
Neyla nodded, "In conjunction with other, smaller things that I had ignored, or dismissed as quirks of personality. It didn't help that, while he couldn't directly manipulate my emotions, he could still sense them, and alter his strategies accordingly. It was an incredibly effective tactic."
"So *that's* why you look at IJ like she's some kind of monster waiting to lunge. Her special talent reminds you of him."
"Disturbingly, yes. If it wasn't for the sheer oddity of his hesitation in killing that Diamond Dog, he would have succeeded at manipulating me like some kind of piece on a chessboard." The way Neyla spat out the last words gave Fyrenn the impression the Changeling wasn't in one piece anymore.
"So what happened?"
"I waited until we had some privacy from the party, then I confronted him about it. I was, I suppose, desperately hoping my suspicions were wrong."
"Well?"
"Well he tried to stab me to the head. I stabbed him to the heart first. Five times."
Fyrenn whistled in awe, "I'm so sorry. That can't have been easy."
"Easier than moving on afterwards. I expect you'll fully understand when I tell you that, against all logic, the event has left me with a... Permanent 'distaste' for intimacy."
"I know *exactly* what you mean. It's not about logic anyway, as you pointed out."
"True."
The ensuing silence wasn't entirely comfortable, nor was it awkward. It was the silence of two souls that had very little to say to each other for no ill reason; Content to assuage their separate pains with the comfort of mutual understanding.
"Good one Stan. Good one." Fyrenn gazed intently at the evidence Carradan had unearthed.
The entire group was gathered around the remains of what had once been a camp. The wind and snow had buried all but the microscopic end of a burned stick, which Kephic had spotted.
Carradan had gone down to investigate, and had been about to chalk it up as debris, when it occurred to him that the wood looked burnt. He dug around it in the snow, to the point that his hooves were caked in it, and he had been rewarded with evidence of a Diamond Dog camp.
Fyrenn scooped Stanley in between his wing and his side, to help him warm up. The salmon colored Pony was shivering, and his teeth were chattering as if driven by a mechanical force.
Varan shrugged, snow coming off his wings in soft white clouds, "We may as well break for a short meal. Judging by how little snow this debris is under, we can't be more than a day behind them."
There were even a few paw-prints on the charred firewood, where some thoughtful member of the pack had reached in and pushed the wood into a tight bundle so it would disappear faster.
The move, while clever, had not quite been enough to fool Kephic's Gryphon eyes, and Carradan's reporter sensibilities.
Once again, Fyrenn's estimation of Stanley's competence increased.
Lunch was a short affair. There was very little boar meat left, but split amongst the four Gryphons it was enough to keep them going. Dinner would require the hunting capabilities of at least three members of the party, however, in order to make up for the smaller noon meal.
As he ate, and helped to warm Stanley, Fyrenn took a good long look at the landscape.
The group was far enough out onto the tundra, that the only thing visible for six miles, in every direction, was pure flat white snow, with wind-gusts carrying clouds of the precipitation across the surface of the land. The only line of reference was the gray horizon, leading up to even grayer clouds, heavily laden with still more frozen water.
The startling impression that popped into Fyrenn's mind was of a desert. A cold, moist, white desert. The difference here was that clean water was so abundant, it could be had anywhere, but food was as scarce as the non-sentient arctic rabbits that prowled the wastes between their cozy burrows, searching for the very few hardy weeds and plants that could endure the cold.
Fyrenn had been surprised to learn that Equestria's animal kingdom was split into non-sentient, and semi-sentient variations of the same creatures. Apparently, centuries of exposure to Earth Pony and Pegasus ambient magic had caused domestic breeds of everything, from bunnies to cows, to develop minds of their own, after a fashion.
By contrast, the wild creatures that inhabited the rest of the world were as animalistic, and therefore as ethically edible as the wild animals that had once roamed Earth's wide open spaces.
As the group prepared to take flight again, Fyrenn cast a final glance down at the remains of the since-burnt out campfire.
"See you soon," He murmured to himself, as he took flight