//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Hegira: Rising Omega 
// by Guardian_Gryphon 
//------------------------------//

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."