//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Hegira: Eternal Delta // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Thirteenth Day, Celestial Calendar The group had flown non-stop, all through the night. Time had become a precious commodity, and everyone was keenly aware of each passing minute. Even Carradan seemed to have gained an unnatural second wind. As the mountains fell away into forests and plains once more, the first hints of orange and pink began to smudge the eastern horizon. Fyrenn tilted the angle of his wings, and allowed the change in airflow to send him drifting across the formation, until he was beside Sildinar. He beat his wings in amiable silence for several minutes, before speaking his mind, "You said things had deteriorated. Back on Earth..." Fyrenn turned to ply his friend with a questioning stare, "How far have things gone?" Sildinar sighed, his eyes remained fixed on his flight path as he spoke, "Nothing irreparable has been said or done... But things are the worst they have been in many years. The phrase most in the Bureau seem to favor is 'perfect storm.' You are aware of the events surrounding Diamond Dog Potion?" Fyrenn nodded, wincing involuntarily, "My last visit was only a few weeks after the start of the temporary program shutdown. I remember the rioting, and truth be told it's part of the reason I haven't gone back in recent years. I suddenly found I'd lost much of my desire to stay in touch with my former species. The legitimate grievances aside, they behaved in ways I can't condone. Especially the leaders." Sildinar grunted, "Yes, as you say, the grievances of the common people are legitimate. No one was truly adequately warned as to how powerful a sway the pack mentality would hold over their beliefs, desires, and impulses. Humanity values freedom nearly as much as we Gryphons do. They had a right to know what they were entering in to, a right that the Diamond Dogs willfully ignored. And Earthgov certainly failed to do their due diligence, perhaps to the point of complicity." Fyrenn inclined his head, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume there's more to the current spate of ill will?" "Earth's Government was eager to keep Conversion enrollment numbers positive. They instituted a series of strong controls on the Diamond Dog program, and then removed the temporary hold on applicants." Sildinar's expression told Fyrenn everything he needed to know about the results of the decision. He loosed a query nonetheless. "And that went badly?" Sildinar nodded slowly, "Badly indeed. In and of itself, it was far too soon to attempt a restart of the diamond Dog program. People felt, and rightly so, that it was disrespectful to the initial victims. Some argued, and for your own knowledge our kind agreed, that the program should be ended and never restarted. But our advice was not heeded, and there were other latent consequences. In the past, there has never been an illicit market for potion beyond the PER. Ponification is open to all, and our serum kills the kind of people who would be seeking it illicitly after a rejection. But Diamond Dog serum..." Fyrenn stiffened, the beat his wings more swiftly, to make up for his momentary lapse, "Of course. Ponies have a natural non-violence compulsion, we have a natural set of moral safeguards..." "And Diamond Dogs have neither. Aside from the pack instinct, and other strong aspects of their baser nature, they are free to use violence as a weapon of first resort. Given that our program is restricted to applicants, that rejects rarely if ever survive the serum, and that Ponies carry a stigma amongst those with fewer scruples because of their desire to retain the ability to commit harmful acts with abandon..." The red Gryphon finished the thought, "...A Black Market for Diamond Dog Potion?" "Precisely." Sildinar cast a glance at his companion for the first time, eyes filled with concern and disgust. "Within a few months it was being sold on the street. After that, it was not long before it became part of what your media calls 'gangland.' Both native criminal cartels, and transplant Diamond Dog mercenaries, began abusing the resentment of those looking for a way to convert without sacrificing their ability to be violent, nor joining themselves to a moral compass. The majority of their victims have either been barred from our program, or found psychologically unsuitable for Draconification." Fyrenn grimaced, "And by the time they realize they've been duped?" "It is far too late. The pack owns them. Body and Mind. Forever." "That's not how it was intended to be." Fyrenn's voice cracked slightly, his sadness on behalf of the lost finally getting the better of him. Sildinar shook his head wistfully, "No indeed; The pack is meant to be an expression of family ties, in its own unique way, as well as a safeguard against baser impulses. Instead, the Troll clans have twisted it into a vessel to *serve* their greed. The impact to crime on Earth has been... Unfortunate. And that is still only part of the problem." Fyrenn inhaled sharply, "There's more?" Sildinar nodded once more, his beak turned down in an expression of melancholy, and ears laid back slightly, "Bureau public relations had already been badly damaged by the issues with Diamond Dog Conversion. Then the Barrier arrived at New York. To most of Humankind, disasters are curiously 'un-real' in their minds, until they are faced with an oncoming calamity directly. Now that the Earth is faced with the imminent loss of one of its largest cities..." "Let me guess... A resurgence of xenophobia? Political shakeups? Protests? Anger? Fear?" Fyrenn sighed and cast his gaze upon the pines below, taking comfort in the myriad hues of green, all suffused with the gold of the rising sun. "Sadly, you are correct. Human moods and desires fluctuate quickly. The climate on Earth has become exceedingly polarized, particularly in areas that will soon succumb to the bubble. Those who have an abundance of time left have a smaller stake in the matter, but those in the immediate path of Equestria are being forced to take a side." Fyrenn inhaled again, slowly and deeply, "And all we can do is try to convince them to take ours." "Indeed." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) March 11th, Gregorian Calendar Hutch glanced up from his DaTab, and smiled, as Commander Aston entered his office, "Commander. Here to deliver the new batch of recruits?" Aston snorted, and shook her head, smiling slightly, "You haven't been sleeping much have you. That's tomorrow." The General's face fell, "Is it? I must be slipping... That... *shrew* Loryss was after me again yesterday." The Commander grimaced, and took a half-seated position on Hutch's desk. The surface was mostly clear, for the first time in years. The more the Fort Hamilton shutdown forged ahead, the more Hutch felt a desire to spend less time in the office there, and more time in his temporary Bureau office. The General chalked it up to an instinctive understanding that the Bureau would soon be nothing more than a memory. Whether he was willing to admit it to others or not, Hutch knew, and accepted internally, that some of the best memories of his career were associated with the Manhattan Bureau. He sighed, and set his DaTab down, leaning back in his chair and taking a moment to drink in the sight of Aston, framed against the rising Equestrian sun as its rays crossed the barrier, wove between the city's mega-skyscrapers, and finally came to rest in her hair giving it a halo-like ethereal quality. "So if you're not here to bring me fresh meat, what's the occasion? Or did you just come to renew our weekly lunch date?" Aston chuckled softly, "You *wish* we had that kind of time. I haven't slept a full night since the evacuation began. I know you haven't either. No, this time I brought you an unexpected visitor." Hutch looked up sharply to see a well dressed, slightly older female figure standing just beyond the frame of his door. He started, in recognition, and then cocked his head sideways, piercing Aston with a questioning glance, "She say why she wanted to see me?" The commander shrugged, "Ask her yourself." As she pivoted through the open sliding semi-transparent door, Aston turned and offered Hutch a parting smile, "And... On the off chance you *do* find some spare time in your schedule... I'm free for half an hour after twenty-hundred." Aston excused herself quietly. Her presence was swiftly replaced by a tall, imposing woman in an immaculate business suit. Hutch smiled. Not quite with the warmth one might reserve for a friend, but with no small amount of genuine professional pleasure and conviviality. "Councilor Martins. What brings you to New York?" Hutch stood and proffered a hand, which Martins grasped and shook firmly, returning his smile with nearly the same precise level of warmth and professionalism. "Business. As always. Commander... You recall that I once did you and your favorite Lieutenant a favor. I've come to collect on your payment. I need your advice... And your backing." The General sighed and swept his gaze across the carpet momentarily, as if he would find some solace in its fibers. He brought his eyes back up, and locked them with the Councilor's, "Am I going to regret putting myself in your debt?" Martins grinned slightly, in a rare display of amusement, "No. I don't think you will. Tell me... Do you enjoy astronomy?" Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Thirteenth Day, Celestial Calendar Fyrenn would never have admitted it aloud, but he was glad to have a moment to stop and take in the afternoon. Even if it was brief. The stream the group had selected as their rest site, and hunting ground, was a beautiful pastoral setting. Fyrenn found it hard to keep his eyes off the scenery. Sildinar and Carradan had stayed with him to help refill water canteens, while Kephic and Varan had volunteered to hunt down a quick meal. As the red Gryphon bent to allow the cool, clear water of the brook to flood into the leather water-skin clutched in his claws, he heard Carradan strike up a conversation with Sildinar, "So. Why did you suddenly decide to hitchhike with us poor bums at the last minute? And don't tell me you just wanted to go sightseeing..." Fyrenn grinned slightly, and dipped his beak directly into the stream for a quick sip, even as his canteen finally reached capacity. He had wanted, from the moment the group departed, to ask the Gryphon Prince the same question, but he was too respectful of his friend's privacy to simply come right out and pry without an invitation. Carradan, on the other claw... Fyrenn chuckled to himself. Once a reporter, always a reporter. He raised his head in time to see Sildinar respond. The roan Gryphon did not seem perturbed by the question in the slightest, "I am travelling with you at the behest of the Lunar Monarch. She has reached out to my father for assistance in... A sensitive matter requiring the type of tactical skill that Gryphons naturally possess. Given our newfound ties to Equestria, my father requested that I act as envoy in this matter." Stanley leaned in close, nudging the Gryphon with a wing, "Top Secret Mission eh? Mind letting us in on the ol' scoop?" Sildinar glared, "In fact, I do. I am not given to breaching confidence. I have told you more than I would tell most. I expect discretion on your part." Fyrenn ambled up, and placed a half-intimidating, half-protective wing over Carradan, grinning down at him in an expression equal parts hollow and menacing, "And he would never *dream* of being indiscreet. Would you Stan?" The Pegasus flinched, grinning sheepishly, "Hehe... My lips are zipped pal." Sildinar smiled, a genuine expression of trust, "Good. I believe our lunch has arrived." Fyrenn turned to follow Sildinar's gaze, and noted with satisfaction that Kephic and Varan had managed to find a large enough kill to serve not only as lunch, but as meat strips to fuel the remainder of their trip. As they touched down, dropped the carcass between them, Varan pointed a claw up at the noon-day sun, "We had best get the skinning done swiftly. That took longer than I would have liked." Carradan raised an eyebrow, his muzzle twisting into an expression of disgust, "Aaah... If you guys don't mind, I think I'll go over that hill and... I can't believe I'm sayin' this... Graze a bit. Beef Jerky is still a little ways off for me, much less guttin' and skinnin.' " Fyrenn shrugged, "No worries. I'll be sure to save you a few strips for later." The salmon Pegasus glowered, "Har de har har." As the four Gryphons set to relieving the deceased mammal of its skin, Kephic plied Fyrenn with a question, "You really think this is worth the trip?" Fyrenn nodded emphatically, "Don't tell me, after everything we went through, that you doubt we're going to the expert among experts?" The speckled Gryphon shook his head, "No no... I'm just worried that expertise won't be able to match the power of a computer encryption." His crimson brother snorted, "Who said we were relying on expertise alone?" Varan made a precise swipe with his talons, and peeled away a large segment of fur seamlessly, "In the vein of encryption; This is effectively proof that the trolls attacking our borders are in league with the PER. Where else would they gain access to human-level computing power?" Sildinar grunted, "Where indeed." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) March 12th, Gregorian Calendar "Relax." Hutch cast a sideways glare at Aston, "What makes you think I'm not relaxed?" The commander snorted, "Has no one ever told you that your left eye has a nervous twitch?" Hutch grimaced, "It does *not.*" Aston smirked, "Its alright. I'd be unnerved too." The General nodded, "Damn straight. We're talking about Dragons here. Nevermind that either of them could flay me alive, nevermind that they breathe all kinds of terrifying shit, and nevermind that they have a fiercely independent streak; They're also both Earthgov citizens, *and* diplomatically immune members of the Dragon race. Trying to be CO to a creature like that is like trying to hit a bullseye with a revolver, blindfolded, while walking a *tightrope.* That's also been lit on fire." "Look at it this way..." Aston rounded the corner slightly ahead of Hutch, and tapped the lift call button, "You're not so much their commanding officer as their... Tactical liaison." Hutch stepped into the lift, and exhaled slowly, eyes expanding slightly, "You got that right. Every time I have to give an Equestrian... A non-Pony Equestrian an order, it feels more like I'm asking nicely than telling sternly." Aston inclined her head, as the lift began to descend to Fort Hamilton's 'ground' floor, "And you wonder why politicians always seem so ornery? Imagine trying to deal with a Gryphon in the Council chambers on some sort of sore issue." Hutch raised an eyebrow as the doors opened onto the central atrium. Aston winced, "Oh. Right. Been there, done that, got the T-Shirts." Hutch strode out of the lift, straightening his jacket, "With that in mind, I think we can handle this." The pair walked in silence; Years of military practice keeping them precisely in step as their JRSF issue black combat boots clacked against the plating of the floor. They reached the main courtyard doors, which slid open at their approach to reveal a glorious Equestrian sunrise. The light sparkled and glinted off their destination. A pair of adult, yet still relatively median sized Dragons. The one on the left was a brilliant shade of emerald. He appeared slightly younger, and more lithe than his counterpart. The one on the right was a shade Hutch would describe as 'anodized aluminum blue.' Pure, vibrant, and evocative of nothing so much as the plates of an armored vehicle fresh off an assembly line. Ready for primer, paint, and then combat. He looked several years older, and more experienced in his comport and posture. His expression was also, the General noted, considerably less inviting. The Green Dragon, while standing at attention like his compatriot, had a look of optimism and excitement to his muzzle. The Blue Dragon looked more grizzled. Hutch immediately marked him down as more likely to be the most problematic of the pair. The reptilian life forms by no means filled the courtyard, but nonetheless they felt very large, in comparison to the armored vehicles and platoons of soldiers moving across the vast duracrete tarmac. Hutch squared his shoulders and strode up to the pair, "Mornin'! I'm General Hutchison!" Somehow, a halfway shout felt like the most appropriate way to address a creature nearly three times his height, "Welcome to Fort Hamilton! You're here because you volunteered for special service as part of your Conversion. More specifically, you are *here* in New York, because in light of the evacuation, we are expecting trouble. More than usual. You two ready to help me make sure that whoever comes busting down the door gets more than they bargained for?" The Green Dragon nodded emphatically, clearly trying to resist breaking into a toothy smile "You *bet* we are!" The blue Dragon simply nodded once gruffly. Hutch returned the gesture, "Alright then. You know me. Hows about I get to know you?" The Green Dragon, predictably, leapt into the silence with his response, "Most people used to know me as Kaidaan Rel. I go by Klarien now. I volunteered because I felt like the limitations of my Human body were keeping me back from doing Earth true service. When I got into the Draconification program... Well... The decision practically made itself." Klarien bent his head down to look Hutch in the eye, "I've read about you, and your service record. You're a master tactician and I'm looking forward to learning from your experience." Hutch smiled slightly, "Well I don't know if I'd call myself a master, but I do knock a few heads together in creative ways now and again." The General turned to face the other reptile, "And as for you?" The Dragon's voice seemed to vibrate the very duracrete beneath Hutch's' boots, "I am called Taranis. I have extensive military experience, and I would like to get started with my duties right away. I expect to need minimal re-training or supervision." Hutch knit his eyebrows. Aston tapped away at a large DaTab cradled in her arms, "It says here you're retired military... You have two citations for valor..." She winced, and her tone dropped, "As well as a half dozen unspecified redacted standing charges, and psychological flags." Hutch glared up at Taranis, secretly feeling quite nervous at locking eyes with a creature who would outlive him by measures of millennia, "This isn't going to be a *problem* is it?" The cobalt Dragon exhaled sharply, creating a strong gust of wind that bore a tang, like melting silicon or scorched air, "Not for me." Hutch glowered, "Well then. I think we'd best move on to gear, quarters, and schedules. Let's go." The group made their way around the courtyard to a large entry-way, from which a steady stream of vehicles were coming and going. The Dragons inserted themselves into the traffic pattern, while Hutch and Aston made their way along a side area reserved for foot traffic. Once inside, they peeled away from the vehicle lane, and moved down a series of giant corridors towards the underground armories. Fort Hamilton had, in the years since post-Pony Conversion programs came online, been retrofitted extensively to handle various species in certain portions of its infrastructure. Hutch led the way into a large room off one of the main access junctions, "Your gear is a lighter, urban-level version of the equipment they're putting on Scalebuster units. Light-vehicle-class anti-material armor, basic area denial countermeasures, and a single high accuracy anti-vehicle wrist-worn railgun." Klarien reached out to one of the two identical suits of armor, suspended on large Dragon shaped racks, and removed the helmet. He turned it over in his claws, smiling, "Incredible! I thought it would seem unusually large but... From this perspective it really isn't." There was a loud *CLANK* from the other side of the bay, and Hutch spun to see Taranis, railgun in-claw, in the process of sighting down the barrel. The tell-tale blue glowing slits at the breach of the weapon indicated he had inserted, and cycled the power cell. Aston inhaled, "A little larger than what you're used to?" Hutch tensed and waited for the Dragon's response. Taranis continued to stare down the weapon, eyes glinting as if with the fury of a storm. Then he slowly laid the device down on the room's large central worktable, "Not especially. No." Hutch gestured for the Dragons to proceed into the corridor again. He leaned close to Aston after they had passed, "I can tell already. This is going to be *so* much fun." Aston smirked, "I don't work this division so... Not for *me.*" Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar Fyrenn found Canterlot a fascinating city. As much as he preferred Gryphic architecture, he still found plenty of room in his tastes for a healthy appreciation of Equine aesthetic. It had a neo-classical charm to it; Spires, minarets, and slender towers made of pure marble, trimmed in obsidian, gold, and silver. More than the architecture, however, the Gryphon enjoyed the occupants of the city, and its culture. Ponies had a sedentary leisurely charm that was, in small doses, appealing as a break to the usual stress of travel and combat. It was late enough in the morning that Fyrenn's keen eyes could spy columns of smoke and steam from a thousand cooking breakfasts. Ponies moved to and fro in the streets hauling carts, setting out café tables, and delivering all kinds of commodities. The group angled directly for Canterlot Castle. Fyrenn and most of his fellow Gryphons had managed to sleep in the air, taking turns leading the formation to ensure no one would crash while snoring. Carradan, being a Pegasus, did not possess the biological mechanisms to sleep as restfully in-flight. The Salmon Pony was clearly flagging, badly. As far as Fyrenn was concerned, first priority was getting Stanley a place to sleep off his undue exertion. The group angled down towards a marble and tile arrival pad built into the side of Canterlot's royal palace, coming to a swift and practiced landing between two rows of Royal Guards, their gold armor glittering in the sun. The accoutrement bore a striking similarity to Carradan's own steel-gray armor. The suits were identical save that Stan's lacked the gold plating, and blue crest. Gryphons manufactured the base pieces for all the Equestrian Nation's Royal armor. Carradan's gear was simply a suit pulled from a shipment years before in time of need. He had taken a personal liking to it, and been allowed to keep it. The doors to the palace were opened by a pair of guards, one of whom inclined his head and spoke to Sildinar, "Her highness Princess Luna is expecting you. Shall we have rooms prepared for your companions as well?" Sildinar cast a glance back at his compatriots. Carradan was leaning against Fyrenn, barely able to keep his eyes open. Sildinar nodded, "Yes, but only one need be ready immediately. The rest can wait." The Guard nodded curtly, "Anything else?" Fyrenn stepped forward, "I'd like for you to have someone sent for." He began to step through the door, then paused, "...And, would you please take a missive for Princess Celestia?" The four Gryphons had fallen mostly to pacing. After Carradan had been seen to a room, wherein he had fallen directly onto the bed and begun to snore immediately, the avians had been brought to one of the castle's ancillary dining rooms. There a spread of cheeses, breads, and fruits had been laid out. While their metabolisms required meat, on average, with every meal in order for them to survive, they could still gain nutrition from other foodstuffs if their daily meat quota was filled. Fyrenn had divvied up the leftover meat strips from their last kill, and they had fallen to eating an impromptu breakfast. While the food was welcome, a feeling of unrest had fallen upon the group. They had flown practically non-stop to try for Fyrenn's mysterious hail-Mary pass, and now they were being made to wait for seemingly no apparent reason. In reality, it had been less than a quarter of an hour since they landed, and their arrival had been unexpected. But to the Gryphons, Fyrenn and Kephic especially, it felt longer. Patience was not the brothers' strong suit. That was more Varan and Sildinar's purview. At long last, a knock came at the door, followed swiftly by a newcomer. Princess Luna was an imposing presence; A touch of her regal bearing even bled through the Gryphons' impassivity. Few figures of authority outside the Kingdoms warranted much respect from the avians, but princess Luna was one of them. It was sometimes a source of conflict between Ponies and Gryphons; Many Equines held their rulers in nigh-on deific esteem, while for the Gryphons 'respect' meant that Luna and Celestia were viewed as, in most cases, as unusually powerful and aged equals. Luna allowed a very small hint of a smile to pull at the corners of her normally unfazed muzzle, "It is most agreeable to see you all again. Particularly you Sildinar, and Fyrenn. I am told you come with news, as well as a request?" Fyrenn nodded, "We do. But time is of the essence here. How soon can we begin?" Luna nodded toward the door, "She is awaiting you in the passage, though she does not yet know why. I did not have time to explain it to her. My sister and I took your message to mean you were in urgent need of alacrity." Sildinar inclined his head, "That we are." The group filed out into the corridor, to behold a Pony standing at the far end, shuffling her hooves and staring out the stained glass windows into the morning light. Fyrenn dashed forward silently, and pounced, wrapping the young Unicorn in a tight hug with both wings, "Surprise you little imp!" She shrieked; A sound that went instantly from surprise, to delight. The Unicorn fell into a fit of laughter, returning the Gryphon's familial embrace and momentarily pressing her head into the comforting crook of his neck, "Good to see you too featherbrains." She finally managed to extricate herself from the crushing display of brother/sister affection, and gain a touch of her composure back, though she continued to grin with her trademark devil-may-care glint in her eyes, "Now... I don't suppose you came all this way without sending ahead just to surprise me?" Fyrenn shook his head, "No Skye. No we did not." Skye's smile widened, "Well a girl does love an unexpected challenge now and then."