//------------------------------// // 5 -- We’re all victims here // Story: A Method to his Madness // by Luna-tic Scientist //------------------------------// Neighmann rolled off the sleeping pad, once again missing the warm body of Equilibrium. He'd taken to sleeping at the new institute facilities to maintain better control over the operation during the initial switchover from their field site. It was nowhere as comfortable as home, but without Libi the place seemed too empty. Reaching out with his magic he started pulling a brush through his sleep-tangled mane, prodding the wall screen into action at the same time. "Messages," he said, watching with a casual eye as the list scrolled past. Junk, junk, spellcraft service charges, utilities charges, more junk. Odd, he thought, nothing from Libi. "What is that filly doing that's got her so involved," he wondered. This was most unlike her; they'd been exchanging messages every day since she'd left for Razorclaw. She'd not missed a single one so far. "Check status of sent messages," he said. His sent messages folder popped up, the last few notes showing the red 'x' of delivery failure. Neighmann paused, then put the brush down and turned all his attention to the wallscreen. "Message held at international gateway, connection refused by Razorclaw national network," he muttered, reading out the error message. What the hay? "Search news: Razorclaw, gryphon," he said to the screen, still not unduly worried. That part of the world was harsh and it wasn't abnormal for weather to temporarily knock out a data link. Yes, but that's through an ocean-bottom fibre optic line, so unless somepony dredged it up by accident... his thoughts tailed off as he read the list of abstracts. The very first article on the list made his stomach twist, and with mounting horror he scrolled through the rest; all were variations on the same theme of 'coup in progress' or 'civil unrest after terrorist incident.' Flicking off the news feed, he started the communications system and called the switchboard number for the Fancypants plant where Libi worked. "Fancypants Industries, may I help you?" The smartly turned out earth pony stallion on the screen looked a bit taken aback by Neighmann's panicked look. "Sir, are you alright?" "I need to speak to somepony about my mate, Equilibrium, she works in process design. It's urgent." "One moment." The screen went blank, showing only the corporate logo, then cleared again to display a tired looking unicorn stallion. Neighmann was just about to speak when the screen split into three, showing a stern looking pegasus mare and another unicorn stallion. "Doctor Neighmann?" asked the tired unicorn. "It is you, isn't it? We met briefly at one of the Heartswarming Eve balls a year or two back." "I'm sorry, I don't--" The unicorn waved a hoof at the screen and cut him off. "No reason you should. I'm Cinnamon, Libi's line manager. I'm here with Mattock and Wintergreen, the heads of global security and pony resources," he said, gesturing first at the pegasus mare and then at the other unicorn. The worry that had been building inside Neighmann suddenly blossomed into a full-fledged panic. No, no, no, please no, don't let-- his mind babbled. "I'm sorry, Doctor Neighmann," the pegasus said, "we have been unable to get in contact with our employees in Razorclaw. As far as we understand it, all the fighting has been confined to the capital, and your mate was scheduled to be at the installation plant several hundred kilometres away at the time the trouble apparently started. As far as we can tell they are as safe as they can be.” === Libi nodded her thanks to the gryphon, unable to quite believe this sudden reversal of her fortunes. These are good people, she thought, not ponies, but good people nonetheless. It's obvious that the security forces aren't much loved around here. The male turned and walked to the closest fence line. "Pounce," he said to the smaller gryphon, "start moving the cows to the west fields. These fences need too much repair for us to finish before sunset." "Da?" the young gryphon said, confused. "There's nothing wrong with this fence, we've nearly--" His eyes went wide as the older male grabbed hold of the nearest fence post and pulled it out of the ground with one convulsive heave. His beak opened and shut in surprise, then a look of understanding flooded his face and he turned and flew towards the distant herd of cattle. Libi gazed in wonder as he walked to the next post and did the same again. "Thank you," she said, "if there's anything I can do to repay--" "Don't mention it." The gryphon turned to glare at her. "To anybody. Ever," he said, then moved to the next post along. "Don't come near the house." "I understand," Libi said, then backed slowly into the barn. Once inside the comfortingly dim space the stress of her unexpected awakening suddenly rolled over Libi and her knees gave way, causing the unicorn to collapse to the straw-covered floor. She lay there for what seemed like an age, breathing heavily and tears rolling down her muzzle. Finally she drew in one huge, ragged breath and held it until the urge to sob faded. Junior picked that moment to kick and twitch in her belly. "Thank you, Celestia," she said, a vast relief filling her as an unrealised fear evaporated. "Thank you for everything." Calm now, Libi climbed stiffly to her hooves and actually looked around the inside of the barn for the first time since she had staggered into it. Most of it seemed to be piles of hay and storage bins full of turnips, but there was a workbench down one wall covered with a range of what looked to be junk accumulated over the last couple of decades. Her eyes had adjusted fully to the dimness now, and enough light came in through the gaps in the walls to allow her to see clearly. Screws, rusty and broken tools, empty jars and bottles, old paint cans and tubs of chemicals. She smiled, struck by a sudden flash of deja vu and homesickness. This is just like my sire's shed at home, only bigger, she thought. She leaned forward, kindling a faint white glow from her horn to read the faded ingredient names on the tubs. An eyebrow quirked up and she whistled one long note. But we never had such an interesting range of chemicals. Carefully she backed away, an idea forming in her head. Retreating to the other side of the barn she found a water tap. Turning it on she put her muzzle under the icy stream and drank long and deep, eyes never leaving that work bench. I may be an alchemist, she thought, but let's not forget that most of that is just 'chemist'. After a slightly nerve-wracking hour of preparations, she had done as much as she could. Placing her creations carefully against one wall where they wouldn't be accidentally knocked over, she took another meal of turnip and hay. Stomach full and mind hazy with fatigue, Libi settled down on a loose mound of straw and wriggled until not even the end of her muzzle was visible. Well fed and feeling reasonably safe, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. === Ripper Of Flesh glided around the infuriatingly impenetrable witch dome that protected the grass-eater's embassy. He'd spent a good part of the last hour either dropping bits of masonry on the dome or trying to goad the company of soldiers into firing one of their rockets at it. Both efforts had come to naught, and now he flew wide circles around the building, a rock in each talon, getting angrier and angrier. "You'll have to come out sooner or later," he howled, "and when you do I'll make you pay for what you've done to us!" Quite what the Equestrians had done to the gryphons of Razorclaw wasn't entirely clear, but every time his mind tried to follow that line of reasoning other thoughts would intrude. Visions of how wealthy and soft the ponies' country was. They didn't have to live claw to beak, never knowing where their next meal was coming from. They've taken all the best land, they want us trapped here until we starve, he thought, a fresh wave of hate flowing over him.   Like the rest of the flock he'd been fooled by the sudden appearance of the witches on the roof, not noticing until too late the far more vulnerable chariots flying in from overhead. By the time he'd seen them the unicorn witches had gone into action, with glowing horns they had swept aside the few gryphons who had been in the right place to intercept the chariots. It had been that easy. Something else to hate them for. There was organized activity behind the pink haze of the magic dome. The whole roof was now nearly empty of ponies, just two rows of pegasi and six chariots packed with the flightless ones. The chariots were moving, actually moving! This is it, he thought, we'll show these arrogant plant eaters; their witches won't save them now. All of a sudden the magic haze disappeared, and with a scream that was echoed from scores of throats, Ripper folded his wings and dove on his prey. The chariots were lumbering things, barely airborne by the time the lead gryphons had crossed the vanished dome's perimeter, charging towards the screen of pegasi who weren't even starting to manoeuvre. Ripper hesitated, wings coming forward to check his headlong dive. Something's not right here, he thought, those pegasi aren't even trying to stop them-- All thought dissolved as the sun went out. In a panic, his imagination supplying an image of the rapidly expanding stone roof of the embassy, Ripper Of Flesh flared his wings and sought to pull out of the dive. Every other gryphon had exactly the same idea and the flock dissolved into chaos. Ripper slammed beak-first into the flank of someone in the darkness, earning a thump across the head as the other's wings thrashed wildly. Bouncing away he felt a set of talons grab convulsively at his hind quarters, causing both gryphons to tumble beak over claws towards the ground. "Let go!" he shrieked at the other, unheard in the general melee. Twisting and lashing out with his own foreclaws he was rewarded with a scream of pain and freedom as the other fell away. Wings flaring again to arrest his descent, Ripper flattened his fall into a glide, dumping speed as fast as he could. For a brief instant he flashed out into blessed daylight, then his left wing clipped a tree branch and sent him spinning into a patch of thick bushes near the base of the Embassy. Tangled in the branches he lay there stunned, mind unable to process the bizarre sight before him. Like the largest basalt boulder in the world, a vast black globe sat over the Embassy. Out of it fell a rain of winged shapes; most quickly finding their bearings and heading for the nearest perch, a few tumbling like dead leaves and never recovering. Ripper was glad he couldn't see what happened to them when they fell behind the nearest buildings. As he watched, the globe seemed to pulsate and grew slightly brighter; dull grey rather than a midnight black. Within it he could see the six chariots climbing strongly, surrounded by the little dots of pegasi. With a final flicker the globe disappeared altogether, allowing the late afternoon sun to illuminate the area it had shaded. The ground and buildings around the Embassy were littered with the confused shapes of gryphons, all staring up in a mix of fear and wonder. Ripper closed his beak when he realised he was doing the same. Thrashing wildly he untangled himself from the thick bushes, spread his wings and took to the sky. "Death to witches!" he screamed, voice so full of rage that his words were barely understandable. Behind him the cry was taken up by hundreds of other voices, and in a storm of wings they leapt to the pursuit.   === "Is everypony ready?" Sergeant Trailblazer shouted over the murmur of conversation, listening to the subdued replies. Like every pony present he had his eyes shut tightly, waiting for Night Storm to cast her spell. This had better work, he thought, mind running through his woefully inadequate backup plans. He'd trained for the tension of covert operations, so this ten minute wait was nothing, but he could hear the shuffle of nervous hooves and the flutter of wings being stretched to relieve the stress. He'd have liked to have waited longer -- the more time he could have to get his eyes adjusted the better -- but somepony was bound to panic if he delayed much longer. I'm pretty surprised they haven't already. He turned his head in the remembered direction of his combat mage. "All set, Night?" "Yes, Blaze, you can start them off now," she said in a distracted tone. Even through his closed eyelids the sergeant could see the glow coming off her horn as she constructed and charged the complex spell. "By the numbers everypony, and remember, open your eyes only when it goes dark and be ready to dodge, those birds will be coming in fast." He started to count out loud, first stepping, then beating his wings in time with the cadence. Five counts in and he'd just lifted off the ground, the rumble of the chariot next to him disappearing as it left the roof. This was the tricky bit, staying close together during slow flight and while blind. He'd spaced the pegasi out, but there was going to be an accident if he held back any longer. With one forehoof he tapped the remote control he'd fixed to his chest plate. Abruptly the muted noise from the gryphon crowd doubled in volume, then doubled again as what sounded like every gryphon in the world screamed bloody murder. "Steady you ponies, five seconds!" That five seconds lasted a relative age; training or not Trailblazer was just about to ask Night Storm if there was a problem, when the faint glow through his eyelids disappeared. In an instant he had his eyes open and was scanning his surroundings. The light was dim even for a pony, but perfectly adequate to resolve the bulky shapes of the chariots and the now strongly flying pegasus draught teams. It was like being inside a globe of smoked glass, or outside during the Eclipse Festival. Overhead, the sun looked no brighter than the full moon, lighting the city beneath his hooves with a pale grey radiance. The strangest thing was the heat from it -- even in Razorclaw the sudden dimming of the sun should have dropped the temperature -- but Trailblazer could still feel its meagre warmth. All around him the air was filled with panicking gryphons, tumbling this way and that and already starting to collide with each other. Twisting his wings, Trailblazer swerved to avoid one individual, lashing out with his hind legs as it passed to drive it away from the chariot. Every unicorn in the chariots simultaneously lit their horns and started to deflect the falling gryphons. There was a risk that this would give their attackers enough light to see by, but the sergeant doubted it. The glow of active telekinesis was subtle at the best of times, and it would take more than a couple of seconds for a gryphon's eye to adjust to this dim light, if it ever could. If only Night could keep this up until we reach the Canterlot Dreaming, he thought wistfully, while body slamming another gryphon. She couldn't, of course. He didn't pretend to understand how she did it, but he knew it was similar to the giant-sized force bubble that was sometimes used to cover the whole of the Royal Palace. While that was designed to stop intruders, Night's shield was designed to stop light, downshifting it by some arcane method into invisible infrared. His view of the city abruptly brightened, dimmed, then returned to full brightness. Blinking away the tears, Trailblazer checked the sky; nothing above, all the gryphons had been scattered and were either on the ground or flying low and confused patterns. He grinned wildly, laughing out loud at the sheer joy of outwitting such a large number of enemies. He looked down, still smiling, as the gryphons started to rally in pursuit. "Still a rabble," he said to himself; only half of the crowd had elected to keep up the chase, but that would be enough to provide some excitement. Holding his wings out in a glide, Trailblazer stretched his neck and tugged at the thin plastic guard covering the edge of his right side featherblade. The blade -- a slender, flexible razor-edged sliver of steel -- was aerofoil curved and attached to his outermost wing joint, just in front of his biggest flight feather. He fanned that wing momentarily, feeling the way it moved in response to the air flow over his real feathers, then twisted his head to the left and did the same to the other featherblade. All around him the other Royal Guard pegasi were doing the same thing; a cascade of plastic covers rained down on the fast-rising gryphons. His six Guard pegasi were the only ones with the blades -- luxury cruise companies frowned on arming their security staff with anything that might maim a fare-paying passenger -- the security teams only had weighted shoes to fight with. At least they came with anticlaw vests, he thought, not as good as my stuff, but better than nothing. The fancy, polished Guard armour may have looked like the gilded bronze design that predated Luna’s return, but it was far from it. There was gold in it, but only as a five-micron coating over metal-matrix ceramic backed with a spellcraft kinetic damper. The stuff would stop anything from a manticore's bite to a round from one of the heavy chem-fuelled rifles popular in the gryphon kingdoms. Sometimes I wish I was a chiropt... their armour is so much better for intimidation. Trailblazer thought. This stuff looks too pretty. There were also a few distinct advantages to having bat wings -- you could do things with a membrane wing that would let you fly rings around someone with feathers, although they were much less tolerant of minor damage. I'm sure having fangs and snake eyes would also make more of an impression... ah well, they'll get the message soon enough. His excitement built, the familiar surge of adrenalin taking over from pre-operation nerves. Seeing the pursuit close the range, Trailblazer rolled once to signal his intent to the rest of the Guard, then turned over a second time and dove at the biggest, meanest-looking gryphon he could find. Behind him the Guard lined up in pairs, forming a falling cone with him at its tip. Getting close, the pegasi flexed their wings, bringing their blades fully forward and letting the mirror-polished metal flicker and flash in the sun. Some of the gryphons got the message, eyes going wide and swerving wildly to avoid the suddenly fierce ponies charging in their direction. Most had only ever seen the pegasi as pleasant, slightly skittish creatures who were unfailingly polite and looked soft and, well, edible. This was completely outside their experience, those supposedly peaceful, pastel-coloured, flying ponies suddenly charging straight at them, with metal on their wings and determined expressions on their faces. Trailblazer flashed past his target, twisted to take the gryphon's talon strike on his armour, then opened his nearside wing just enough to let the tip of the featherblade brush the furry hindquarters. He felt the jarring impact along the blade's mounting harness and realised he'd misjudged it slightly; instead of just cutting the gryphon he'd struck bone. Angry at himself he pulled in his wing slightly and angled towards his next target. Out of practice, he thought, can't do too many of those or it'll get blunt. Featherblade fighting was one of those things that required a really good edge; a blade that snagged in a target might dislocate a wing before the breakaway straps failed. Behind him the formation of Guard pegasi expanded and flexed as it passed through the knot of gryphons, slashing with wings and kicking out with weighted hooves. Following Trailblazer's lead, the pairs of ponies curved out of their dive, flapping furiously as they fought for altitude. Below them the closest knot of gryphons was in disarray, two dozen of the flock had given up on the chase and were gliding stiffly back to the ground, trailing blood and feathers. This bought the ponies a few minutes of peace as the gryphons circled around the little convoy like vultures in a thermal. A pegasus' size tended to make them a little more manoeuvrable than the larger gryphons, but that was at the expense of power and endurance. Slowed by the need to keep with the chariots, they were rapidly being out-climbed by the flock; before long there was a cloud of gryphons circling almost half a kilometre above the fleeing ponies. Below them was a matching swarm of the slower gryphons, obviously content to let their more energetic brethren make the first move. Trailblazer looked up with a critical eye, studying the motions of the gryphons above him. Soon, he thought, they'll break soon. Working his jaw from side to side he opened a comms channel to the rest of the Guards and the security pegasi. "Look sharp, ponies, they'll come for us soon. Guards, let's gain some height; we'll hit them as they descend. Nightstick, have your ponies take the middle position, there'll be plenty who'll get through. Guard unicorns to point defence and keep watch for any injured pegasi." While the acknowledgements came back, Trailblazer studied the ponies' formation, wondering what else he could do. The six chariots were arranged in a stacked pair of triangles, with the civilian pegasi a tight-knit flock at the centre. Above this circled three of the five squads of the Dreaming's security ponies, with the remaining two squads orbiting the civilians, where they could protect the flyers or dive on any gryphons climbing from below. The sergeant shivered in his armour. If I wanted to cause as much trouble as possible, he thought, I'd go straight for the civilians. Hard to use a featherblade in that flock and a unicorn would have problems with line of sight. He put that out of his mind as the gryphons overhead chose that moment to fold their wings and dive. === Ripper Of Flesh had been at the back of the flock as it had climbed towards the pony convoy that first time. He was eager to extract some vengeance for his humiliating crash a few minutes ago, but the impact had left him a little shaken and he didn't quite have the speed of the others. He watched with amazement as a small group of ponies had dived head first into the flock, wings glittering strangely. It was only after he flew through a haze of blood droplets that he realised what was happening. Knives! They've got knives on their wings! he thought. A second later he was treated to a close up view, as the lead pony pulled out of his dive only a dozen metres away. The pegasus was one of the stern looking white stallions in gold armour that he'd seen about the Embassy whenever he'd flown over it. Now his fur wasn't white; a dapple of bright arterial red painted his hind quarters and wingtips. The face wasn't so expressionless either: the pegasus' muzzle was twisted into an expression of unholy joy that did more to make Ripper pause than the shiny metal blades on the other's wings. He curved away, watching in horrified fascination as several clawfuls of gryphons tumbled out of the flock, blood staining their feathers and fur. With the shock, the rage left his mind and he could think clearly for the first time in days. What in Tartarus am I doing here? he thought. I have no quarrel with these ponies. A sudden shiver of worry ran through him. Where is my famil-- For an instant a memory welled up; a vision of a pair of mismatched eyes set into a heavy, dragon-goat head, smiling with a cruel smile and speaking honeyed words that he couldn't quite make out. Then the rage flooded back in and his thoughts returned to their previous track without pause. --rotect my family from these Equestrians, look what they've just done to my friends!  A tiny part of his mind protested that he didn't know any of these gryphons, but was drowned out by the tide of anger. He pumped his wings vigorously, climbing in a wide arc that gave the convoy plenty of room. The ponies were moving quite slowly, burdened by their insistence on rescuing their flightless kinfolk, and it was only a few minutes before he was above them and gazing down, claws twitching with the desire to rend pastel fur. To his left a gryphoness he didn't recognise was shouting at anyone nearby that they should attack together, smash past the defenders and strike directly at the convoy. Ripper found himself nodding in reflex to the words, flexing his talons in anticipation. Around him every other gryphon was doing the same. The gryphoness started to call out numbers, the refrain spreading from gryphon to gryphon until it had been taken up by the whole flock. When the count reached zero they folded their wings and stooped as one. This is how it is supposed to be! Ripper thought with glee, squinting into the fast building slipstream. The tiny shapes of the defenders expanded rapidly and started to evade; picking his target he pushed his foreclaws out in front of his beak and spread the talons into a lethal fan of knives. The outer layer of defenders -- the white-furred, gold-armoured ones -- flicked and wove through the falling gryphons, slashing with those shining wingblades. They were too few to do more than dent the numbers of attackers, and this time the gryphons were expecting the attack and didn't flinch at the sight of them. Ripper twisted his wings in little motions, guiding his fall to put other gryphons between himself and those razor wings. Many others did the same, and the sky became a short-lived game of aerial chess ultimately governed by the skill and relative velocity vectors of each flyer. In front of Ripper a gryphon had realised he couldn't avoid contact with one of the armoured pegasi and had rolled to intercept it, claws coming forward just before impact. With a thunderous crash the pony was knocked off balance by the larger gryphon's speed; wings flailing, both started to tumble. His talons locked around the pegasus' armoured ribs and his beak reached forward for the pony's unarmoured throat. Ripper didn't see the outcome of the bout; the collision had robbed both flyers of their aerodynamics and he blew past them like they were floating. There were more pegasi in the inner defensive band, flying in two-on-two patterns. He dimly recognised it from the military flight training as part of his conscription many years ago; a mutually supporting formation that would have served them well in any other situation. Here they were faced with the impossible task of stopping a force ten times their number; it just wasn't going to happen. As before, he yawed and rolled to evade the ponies; other gryphons chose not to. These ponies were unarmoured apart from a flimsy looking covering over their bodies, with no steel in their wings they were far more tempting targets for an eager gryphon than the white Embassy Guards. On his left, Ripper caught sight of the gryphoness who'd been organizing the flock; she reached into her chest feathers and brought out a small object in one foreclaw, pointing it at the closest pegasus. There was a flat crack and the pony's mouth opened in an 'o' of shock, her wings folding as she started to tumble back towards the chariots. The sight and sound of the pistol almost shocked Ripper Of Flesh back to his right frame of mind. No gryphon would take a gun to a claw fight; to not even give the attacked a chance to fight was the height of dishonour -- not only to the defender, but also the attacker. And where did she get that little thing? Ripper thought. Concealed weapons were the stuff of the Red Talons, one of the many reasons no right-thinking gryphon wanted anything to do with them. A flicker of shame went through Ripper's mind, quickly forgotten as he fell past the inner defenders. His original target, a pastel green pegasus-pony hitched to one of the lead chariots, saw him coming and thrashed his wings in a frantic effort to escape. Tied into the traces he was an easy target and Ripper crossed the two hundred metres of clear air in less than five seconds.