Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 13th, Gregorian Calendar
Neyla stared contemplatively into the hologram, as if piercing it with her gaze would uncover some long-buried secret, "It is a large city. And the divisions of the river complicate things."
Vancouver had indeed become large. After the Winnowing, the metropolis had absorbed all the nearby boroughs and municipalities as people fled the countryside and sought shelter from the brutal northern winters.
Sorven, Tirinel, and Seyal were gathered at the other sides of the holotank, each likewise searching the projected map for vulnerable or vital locations related to the city's defense.
Seyal tapped a claw against the projection membrane thoughtfully, the image above rippling in time to the beat of her sharp index digit, "We'll have the support of a light carrier, starting tomorrow. With its defense skiffs, we can be fairly assured that the river won't be used as a method of ingress."
Sorven nodded, fisted left hand propped under her chin pensively, "Both the PER and the HLF would have good reason to... 'attend the summit uninvited..."
Tirinel let out a deep thrum from his chest, finishing the sentence slowly, "And both would require large heavy devices to accomplish their purpose. If we have sealed the river to them, the only remaining entry points are the maglevs, and via the aircraft terminus."
Neyla sighed, "Which means we will have to stretch our forces out across the ports, the train stations, *and* the air terminal."
"And that's just to secure the city's entry points." Sorven tapped at the center of the hologram, her finger creating a series of cyan ripples in the buildings. She turned to Neyla, "Like you said; It's a big city. They could easily have the materials here already to build a helluva bomb."
Seyal dipped her head in agreement, flattening her ears in thought, "Meaning we would be best advised to squeeze them from both sides. Secure the premises of the complex here, as planned..."
Tirinel finished the thought, "And, as Neyla has already suggested, we should seek to root out potential bases of operations within the city. Force them to fall back and defend rather than spend their time scheming and preparing."
Neyla grimaced, her ears mimicking Seyal's and defaulting to a concerned prone position, "It is a 'tall order' as you are so fond of saying General."
The silver Dragon interjected, "But not an impossible one. We are a highly effective force, as today's qualifying runs so amply demonstrated."
Sorven nodded slowly, "Thank God for interspecies cooperation."
Seyal began dragging small colored lines on the map as she spoke, "In light of the size of the city, I suggest we split our forces in this manner; One third will remain here in the compound for security, augmented by existing Earthgov forces. The remainder will split between securing entry terminals, and combing through known PER and HLF sympathetic zones."
Neyla glanced sideways at General Sorven, raising an eyebrow and perking her ears, "You do understand that we tend to be very... Aggressive in dealing with trouble spots. There could be political fallout."
Sorven snorted, "The first rule in doing this job Neyla? There is *always* political fallout. And its not our problem as long as we can keep the politicians blaming each other while we do our job."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
One looked up just in time to see Three arriving with Two. He gestured to the empty seats at the table, his voice a flat monotone, "Join us."
One was an expert at his trade, but for the mission at hoof he found himself constrained to his native mannerisms; Something most Equestrians found to be fairly alien. The constraint was a byproduct of infiltration. Without someone to actually replace, One had no particular target to study, and thus no grains of truth around which to build the façade of a false personality.
This fact was certainly alleviated by the nature of the mission; There was no need to convince anyone that he, or any of his cohorts, were truly specific Ponies with specific identities, pasts, behaviors, careers, and loved ones.
When dealing with strangers, Ponies had an incredible tendency to overlook even the most attention-demanding of oddities in individuals. This lack of paranoia made them highly permeable to infiltration, draining, and even replacement. Some Ponies were even more keen to forgive peculiarities in the ones *closest* to them, rather than mere strangers.
They were not, One reflected, at all like Gryphons, or Dragons, who had cultures that were both exceedingly difficult to emulate facetiously, and naturally highly distrustful of outsiders or outsider behavior. They were all but impossible to infiltrate effectively, let alone replace.
As the two newcomer 'Pegasi' obediently took their seats, a waitress appeared with a smile on her face and a tray balanced between her wings, "Can I get you anything gentlemen?"
One tilted his head slightly, as if trying to parse her request and weigh his response, before nodding, "Four waters." The request was so emotionless that it seemed to visibly affect the waitress, nonetheless she nodded, forced a smile, and darted off back into the café.
The building was a beautiful combination of nimbus, and cumulocirrus cloud formations built at the corner of Cloudsdale's largest 'streets.' At least, the locals described it as 'beautiful.' One found it both difficult, and loathsome, to attempt to assimilate the aesthetic viewpoint of the Pegasi, or any other Equinid for that matter.
After the water arrived, Three leaned forward over the table and spoke in a hushed tone, "Do we move now?"
Four, the youngest of the group, nodded emphatically, "The sooner the better, yes?"
One shook his head slowly, his response delivered in the same sedate and flat manner as the motion itself, "Patience. A large storm is planned for tomorrow evening. Residents have been advised to avoid certain areas of the city's structure during this time. The lightning and wind will make these locations... Dangerous. We will use this to our advantage."
Two cocked his head, a kinesics made peculiar by the almost robotic nature of its delivery, "We will make it appear to be an accident? To avoid arousing suspicion?"
One hefted his water glass on one wing with expert motor control, and took a measured sip, "Precisely."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 13th, Gregorian Calendar
Hutch sighed deeply as he watched the two Dragons plod down the empty boulevard. The sheer surreality of the scene did very little to dampen his melancholy.
The segment of the city they had entered was utterly devoid of life. With all its inhabitants evacuated, and no animals to fill in the cracks and crevices, it was utterly and truly desolate. Pavement, steel, stone, and glass stretching on in a continuous expanse of antiseptic testament to advanced technology, and modern architecture.
The Dragons were a sharp contrast, not simply because they were the only moving things, but because they represented such an incredible paradox. Dragons in Manhattan. Hutch shook his head and snorted.
Capping off the uncanny vista was the golden glow of an Equestrian afternoon. The distant world's sun bathed the buildings in a lively hue evocative of some primordial sense of crispness, peace, and balance. The Barrier itself was, despite its proximity, still far enough away to be almost invisible, unless one actively sought to identify it.
It was far simpler to look at the sharp terminus between the iron sky of Earth, and the painfully beautiful blue of Equestria.
It was the contrasts that hurt the most. Manhattan had always been a place evocative of life to Hutch. It pained him to see his city emptied. The sunlight and blue sky only served to worsen the effect, like a prisoner's last perfect meal, the simple but powerful joy of a cool, sunny afternoon brought only the bitterness of 'what might have been.'
The General closed his eyes and tried to imagine the street filled with traffic, and pedestrians. He dredged up recent memories of smells, and sounds, and merged the memories with the alien, yet strangely familiar idea of seeing New York under a living sky.
Aston had told him it evoked a connection to history for her; Not only would their generation be the last living witnesses to the city, but they had also become the first to see it under true sunlight in several generations.
She had drawn a parallel to the myth of Janus. Hutch wasn't much of one for history, but once she had explained he had agreed. The metaphor seemed to fit the situation well.
He opened his eyes, and was struck by a curious thought; How did the Dragons see the situation?
They were Converts, so doubtless there was some similarity between their reaction and Hutch's own, but they were also by the same token, Dragons. Their lifespans would encompass eons of time, and a city was a much more transient thing to them, as a concept.
To a human, or even a Gryphon, a city was something that often pre-dated one's life, and would likely endure long after one was dead.
To a Dragon, a city was unlikely to exist longer than a lifespan, especially if it pre-dated that lifespan.
Finally, the trio arrived at the center of the evacuated district. The presence of several JRSF vehicles, crates, tents, and a small contingent of personnel created a startling island of activity in the sea of silence.
Hutch picked up his pace, striding past the Dragons to meet an armored trooper exiting the central tent, "Commander. Everything ready for our guests?"
The man snapped off a salute, and nodded, "The building is prepped. Seems like an awful waste of materials if you ask me."
The General grunted, "Better here, and better this way, than letting these two smash helter skelter through a populated region without any training, guessing as they go. 'Collateral Damage' for these guys is measured in megatons."
The Commander shivered, visibly, as he turned and made a quick series of hand signals to his men. As the troopers darted to-and-fro, mostly endeavouring to remove their vehicles from the immediate vicinity of the designated training area, Hutch turned to the Dragons.
"My boys have turned this building," he tossed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the largest nearby skyscraper, "Into a reasonable reconstruction of an HLF hostage scenario. The point of all this being to teach you two how to thrash an enemy, on the clock, without incurring civilian casualties or doing *too* much collateral damage."
Klarien squinted in confusion, "How do you intend to present us with challenging opponents?"
"Holography. Most of the building is wired with four-color low-fidelity, high-coverage, high-refresh-rate emitters. The techs did some kind of wizardry and tied the controlling computer into the battlenet, paired it with your armor's sensors and a load more gobbledeygook that makes no sense to me. The long and short of it is that your armor will record damage done to you, as well as kills and damage you incur to living targets. The building will tell its own story at the end."
Taranis grunted, "If it is still standing."
Hutch glowered, "It had best be if we have any hope of sending you two into the field without raising hell from the press, the public, *and* the politicians."
Klarien gestured to the ground level entrance with one enormous beryl claw, "You said it was a hostage situation?"
The General nodded, "You're going to be scored based on enemies killed, hostages killed by enemies, hostages killed by you, time taken, and structural damage. Obviously you only get points for one of those. The rest are penalties of varying severity. I imagine you're both capable of filling in the blanks on what counts for what."
Taranis dipped his head, scowling, "Quite."
Hutch began to back away, "At the sound of the air horn, the timer starts. This is a flash deployment blow-through operation. No intelligence, no backup, no communication to central command. The operation is on you two alone and your actions are being judged accordingly. Good luck."
Klarien grinned, "Not that we need it."
Taranis pierced him with an expression that spoke volumes, implying his opposing opinion wordlessly.
As Hutch made it to the line of JRSF vehicles, he turned and watched the giant reptilians preparing. Their armor's hard edges and dull texture offered a menacing contrast to the glint of the evening sun on their jewel-like scales. As the pair dug at the pavement below them, claws tearing into the duracrete as if it were tissue paper, Hutch whistled.
The Commander, who had taken up a protected position behind a Humvee, snorted, "I think I'd rather fight my ex in court again than piss one of those things off."
Hutch inhaled, and shook his head slowly, "That's a tough sell, but point well made." The General nodded over his shoulder, "Whenever you're ready."
The Commander winced, "Watching this is gonna give me nightmares..." He mashed his thumb into a small remote, clutched in one gray plated glove. An air horn affixed to a tall pole near the skyscraper's entrance let out a three second blast.
Klarien took off like a shot, directly through the front entrance. Hutch cocked his head in confusion as Taranis neglected to follow suit. The cobalt Dragon's motivations became clear momentarily, as he spread his wings and ascended rapidly with a few powerful beats that shook the air like a turbine engine.
If Klarien's wings evoked leafy vein patterns, then Taranis' wings bore an uncanny resemblance to a stormy sky laced with angular fractals of clouds and lightning.
Within seconds, Taranis had ascended to the top floor of the skyscraper, utilizing the relative precision afforded him by his biological wings to pull off maneuvers that even the smallest of VTOLs were ill-suited for.
Without warning, prelude, or any regard for potentially injury, Taranis dove muzzle-first through the top floor windows, creating an enormous entry breach with such speed and effortlessness, it seemed as if his body were gracefully displacing water, rather than steel and plexiglass.
The Commander whistled, "Frack me..."
Inside the lobby, Klarien was surprised to find that the holographic HLF troopers were nowhere to be seen. Indeed, the vast atrium space was just as deserted as the street outside.
He took an experimental sniff of the air, before remembering that his digital opponents did not leave any sort of scent trail. He snorted, and decided that it was an unfair handicap, but not by any means a serious hindrance to completing the mission. There was more than one way to track prey.
A hologram would produce no smell, nor heat, but it would certainly produce sound and an overabundance of light.
Few were surprised to learn that a Gryphon could be stealthy; The combined leonine and avian grace they exuded made it obvious that they were predators of silent precision, and could leverage stealth masterfully to that end.
Dragons, in contrast, seemed to be everything that subtlety was not. Large, loud, and capable of wreaking havoc with a gesture as simple as a sneeze. Certainly it was impossible to mask their presence from a Gryphon, with their all-seeing eyes, or a Diamond Dog with their unbelievably sensitive ears and noses.
But Humans were possessed no such useful sensory traits. They were half blind, lacked any sense of smell at all, and were almost totally deaf, by even the lowest of Equestrian standards. They relied almost exclusively on their technology as an extension of their senses.
Stealth was rarely useful to a Dragon, but Klarien decided that it would serve his purposes well, for once.
He slid across the marble floor, belly inches away from the tiles, holding his claws at such an angle as to minimize the noise of his passage.
He snaked his way to the stairwell, wings tucked close to afford the squeeze through the door, which had been designed for Humans only.
His first opponents made themselves apparent instantly; A pair of lightly-armored HLF soldiers one floor above. As their first ethereal rounds zipped downwards, pinging off the green Dragon's scales, he launched himself up the center of the concrete space.
He knew he was running on a second, much shorter timer now. It was only a matter of moments before the virtual soldiers would begin to kill hostages in hopes of cutting their losses, or even forcing him to halt his advance.
He found a moment, as he ascended on the force of his wings and back legs, to hope that Taranis had not alerted the guards to their presence to early or too forcefully.
Klarien banished far-reaching concerns from his mind as he connected with his assailants. The force of his arrival pulverized the second floor landing, dispersing both holograms instantly. Had they been corporeal beings, there would have doubtless been a fine red mist to accompany their momentary screams.
He shook himself quickly, to work chunks of duracrete and metal out of the joints of his scales and armor, before taking stock. According to a small holographic readout summoned from his helmet, he had done more damage to his armor hitting the landing than the HLF's weapons had, though even that amounted to nothing more than scratches and a minor dent.
Given the sheer weight a Dragon could heft, their lightest armor was more akin to vehicle anti-material plating than actual personal armor. Their scales alone, unaided, could repel point-blank railgun rounds up to the medium vehicle class. It would take far more than structural impacts and carbine fire to pose any sort of risk to the verdant reptilian.
The real worry was the safety of the hostages.
Klarien flattened himself against the wall adjacent to the next doorway, and cautiously poked his head far enough around to get a clear view of the room beyond.
He was rewarded with a stunning flash of light, and a screech from his helmet alerting him to severe damage to the upper regions of his armor. He cursed inwardly. One or more of the enemies in the room were equipped with anti-vehicle railguns.
The powerful weapons were often two-man portable by means of a tripod, and posed little danger to Klarien's chest or sides. His eyes, and certain parts of his head and neck, however, were more vulnerable. The scales there would not be thick enough to promise absolute invulnerability to such weapons for at least another four hundred years of his life.
He briefly considered using his breath as a means to clear the room, before promptly dismissing the notion; It was unlikely the holographic soldiers were programmed to react to his hidden talent, and if they were then the civilian hostages would be as well, which would inevitably lead to disastrous results given that his control of the ability was still awkward at best.
In the end that left only one option. The 'direct approach.'
He tensed, muscles coiling to store energy on a level that would have put a tank's power plant two hundred percent over the red-line. He knew that once he entered the room, the time remaining to make decisions and rescue the hostages would be cut to a matter of seconds.
For a moment, he debated holding off until Taranis made his strategy apparent. It didn't take long for him to decide against the idea. The Blue Dragon seemed sullen and isolationist at best. Klarien snorted, reflecting that it would be a miracle if he hadn't compromised their scores already with his 'loner' act.
He spent a final few seconds taking stock of his armor, and the areas he would need to protect, before lunging through the entryway. The shock of his passage, and his bulk, promptly disintegrated the frame of the door, creating a cone of choking duracrete dust, and an ear-splitting 'CRASH,' that served to sow confusion amongst his enemies.
The tenth-second delay created by the brutality of his entry gave Klarien just enough time to locate the most serious threat to his efforts; A large anti-vehicle railgun wedged between two pillars at the far end of the room. The emplacement was manned by two spectral digital soldiers, and protected by a series of overturned desks.
The Green Dragon lunged across the space, beating his wings once to stir up the dust further, and add to his speed. He dug in his front claws at the last possible second, spinning and transferring all his accrued momentum into his long thick tail.
The limb, which was long on muscle and short on nerve endings, swiftly turned the makeshift defensive desks into deadly shrapnel grenades. Slivers of plastic faux-wood ranging from human finger size, to Dragon claw size, pelted the entire far end of the chamber at lethal velocities.
The two soldiers manning the antivehicle gun died instantly, bodies riddled with momentary holographic disruptions where the flak would have torn bloody holes in living beings.
Klarien wasted no time. He hefted the ruined weapon in both front claws, rose to his full height, and simply heaved the device at the next group of soldiers. The fury his forelegs transferred into the maneuver lent the object so much momentum that it impaled the entire line of enemies.
Since their holographic bodies had no mass, the gun flew on, unimpeded, burying itself up to the trigger assembly in one of the room's previously unscarred walls.
Klarien paused to examine the chamber. The hostages were bound and gagged in the center, grouped together in a huddle. A pair of soldiers were holding ethereal weapons to their equally translucent heads, shouting and gesturing for the Dragon to surrender.
He snorted, raised his forelegs a second time, and emptied the chambers of his wrist-mounted railguns before the stunned troopers had time to react.
Klarien smiled, and was on the cusp of relaxing, when everything went horribly, unpredictably, wrong.
The first sign of trouble was the overwhelmingly loud klaxon, projected via his helmet, alerting him to a multitude of serious hits on his wings and back.
He instinctively rolled, looking up to behold upwards of a dozen heavily armored holographic Phase-II Augments dropping from the ceiling on rappelling-insertion cables. The nano-technologically augmented soldiers carried massive shoulder-mounted RAC-8s, which they were wasting no time in emptying in the scrabbling reptile's direction.
Klarien found himself cut off. He could not reach the hostages without taking mortal damage, and he could not find a secure place to attack from, without leaving the hostages to their imminent gruesome fate.
His deadlock was interrupted by a sound akin to the detonation of a twelve megaton thermonuclear warhead.
In a display of glittering scales, spinning chunks of duracrete, and flashing slivers of steel, Taranis descended through the roof, from above, like an enormous azure missile.
As he fell, his wings and claws snapped out, ensnaring and disemboweling several of the Augments with the force of gravity, combined with the Dragon's incredible mass.
As Taranis approached the hostages, he snapped his legs closer to his center of mass. The limbs came down like pillars around the hostages, not even so much as scraping at the edges of their flickering forms. The cobalt Dragon flared his wings, then furled them down into a shield around the civilians.
Before Klarien could right himself, and seize the moment, Taranis opened his jaws. The ensuing chaos could only be described as a storm.
Lightning, brighter than the sun and crackling with twice as much heat, flew from the space between his teeth, arcing across the entire room and promptly frying anything electronic or conductive that was not under the protective faraday-cage shell of his wings.
The blots even connected with Klarien, jolting him severely and sending a feeling akin to liquid fire through his blood and bones. The naturally mineral-laden qualities of Dragons' scales made them, with the exception of the Blue subspecies, fairly susceptible to electricity as a means of attack, assuming they were grounded. Klarien was most definitely grounded, and regretting it with every new tremor that wracked his muscles.
If the bolts of energy were causing Klarien pain, they were causing the simulated HLF troopers nothing short of Hell on Earth. After only three seconds, the electricity not only overwhelmed the health-counters of the remaining simulation troopers, it atomized all the electrical componentry in all the holo emitters that had been projecting them in the first place.
With a resounding 'KRZZZT' and terrible popping noises akin to a large glacier breaking up, the emitters exploded simultaneously like small firecrackers, scoring the duracrete around their mounting points with the remainder of the energy from the reaction.
At last, after what felt like ages, but had been merely seconds, Taranis ceased his onslaught.
He slowly shifted his wings. The hostage holograms were intact, their emitter having been protected along with the projections by the null-charge-zone the Dragon's own body had created.
Klarien, with enormous effort, finally stopped shaking and began to breathe once more. He wheezed, then glared, "Were you *trying* to kill me?!"
Taranis raised an eyebrow, "If I had been trying to kill you, then your scales would have been turned to the equivalent of volcanic glass, your brain would have fused, then melted, and your internal organs would have given up and died within seconds from the heat."
Klarien continued to glare, gingerly forcing his way past his partner to the exit, "I think you're exaggerating." As he reached the demolished doorway, he turned and sighed, "But please don't do that again."
Taranis tilted his head, "It worked, didn't it?"
Klarien winced, "*Not* the point."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
Fyrenn gazed out over the buildings and sighed. It was disheartening to see such accomplishment laid low by a disaster no one could explain, or stop.
Nature could not be bargained with, threatened, or brute forced. The Barrier was certainly a forceful example of the power worked into the fabric of the universe. And all the damage it could do.
The field of energy moved slowly, but if he focused on the nearest super-skyscrapers, the Gryphon found that he could center on the millimeters surrounding the terminus of the phenomena, and watch its agonizingly slow, yet terrifyingly fast, progress as it chewed through steel, duracrete, and glass remorselessly.
A voice from his left side caught him off guard, "It is coming." Fyrenn started, and turned to see Varan, his normally impassive expression plastered to his beak, his ears perked slightly forward.
Fyrenn gestured across the gulf from the building they were standing atop, to the glowing edge of the bubble, "The Barrier?"
"No." At the sound of the second voice, the red Gryphon whirled to see his other sibling standing on his right, beak firmly affixed with the same dour countenance as their golden hued brother.
Varan spoke once more, his voice even more atonal than usual, "And yes. It is coming."
Fyrenn exhaled sharply, twisting his head back and forth in confusion, glancing between his brothers in turn, "I don't understand... No? And Yes? What's coming?"
Fyrenn flinched as his gaze swept back around, and was arrested by another figure; A tan and blue Gryphoness. Neyla's expression was decidedly hostile, her ears were pinned flat, wings partially spread, claws raking at the surface beneath her.
Her eyes seemed to glow with an inborn fire, "Your end."
"Hey!"
Fyrenn inhaled sharply as his eyes snapped open. It took his brain a millisecond to engage, nearly two billionths of a second longer than it took his reflexes to kick in. As a result he had to forcibly arrest the impulse to lash out and strike Skye with a fisted claw.
The moment passed so quickly that the Unicorn had no perception of it.
Fyrenn sighed, and slumped back to his former resting position on the floor, "What's up?"
Skye snorted, a sound halfway between a sarcastic laugh and a sneeze, "What's up? You were thrashing around like a fish in a net, and it was distracting. That's up."
Fyrenn shook his head, and yawned, stretching out his forelegs, then his back legs, then his wings in sequence, "Sorry. I don't *always* sleep lightly you know. I do like to get better rest occasionally."
Skye grinned, "So, feeling rested?"
Fyrenn glowered, turning his gaze to the rock of the floor below pensively, "No."
The Unicorn tilted her head, and stared, muzzle twisted into a questioning half-sneer. Fyrenn glanced up and shook his head, then gestured to the roof of the cavern, "I don't like being underground very much. Even in a space this big. It makes it hard to think, sleep, and even eat for us."
This explanation seemed to satisfy Skye, who began nodding slowly and frowning in sympathy, "Sorry. Things took about twenty minutes longer than I expected. I didn't figure you'd use that time to go off to la la land."
Fyrenn stood, and shook himself, "So you're done?"
Skye bobbed her head slightly, "Aaaah... Mostly. The final decrypt is running now, but it could take anywhere from four, to fourteen minutes to actually do 'the magics.' " As she uttered the tail end of her sentence, she raised one hoof and waggled it in the Pony equivalent of an 'air quote,' simultaneously rolling her eyes.
Fyrenn got the impression she was mocking some distant third party.
He stretched his forelegs a second time, and swept his gaze around the cavern. Carradan was busy near the central work station, seemingly trying to goad Varan into a game of 'I spy.' Fyrenn snorted a half-chuckle. Despite, or perhaps because of the fact that he always won, Varan was adamantly and calmly declining.
Further down one of the crystalline rows, Kephic was busy inspecting some of the as-yet untamed geological formations, idly running a claw against the translucent minerals and watching the resulting sparks with mild interest.
Finally, Fyrenn smiled down at the Unicorn beside him. She was akin to a sister; One of two Ponies who held a special familial place in his heart. He realized that he had missed her company sorely. She possessed a singular combination of spunk, wit, and heart that was a blessing to the entire group.
Not to mention, he reflected inwardly, she was savvier and more clever with magic and technology than anyone else he had ever known in his life. Put together.
Skye chuckled, "What are you grinning at, space cadet?"
Fyrenn snorted at the older human expression, realizing that his train of emotions had become visible in his expression, "Just thinking that it's good to see you again. We don't do this often enough."
She snickered, "And whose fault is that?"
The burgundy and crimson Gryphon rolled his eyes, "Take it up with my CO."
"Yeah. Sure. Conveniently situated thousands of miles away on his royal throne, probably busy doing kingly business."
Fyrenn snorted and chuckled, "Watch it. Sildinar has sharp ears, and Carradan even sharper."
Skye grinned wickedly, "Unless pink Pegasus there has a death wish, he won't rat on me."
Fyrenn had to make a visible effort to keep from bursting out into laughter, "Yeah... And unless you also have a death wish, you'll never ever call him pink again. He killed a Diamond Dog ten times his size for saying it."
The off-brown Unicorn raised an eyebrow incredulously, blowing a lock of her short-cropped zany blueish mane out of her eyes. Fyrenn sighed, "All right, Varan helped. But Stan did break a good few of the Troll's bones first."
Skye smiled in spite of herself, "He's getting the hang of things. I think you guys are having a bad influence on him."
Fyrenn chuckled, "One can only hope."
After a moment of contented silence, further chance of conversation was cut short by a series of demanding tones from the computer.
Skye trotted up the stairs, and plopped into the control chair, "Lets see what you boys have gone and stepped in *this* time..." Her hooves flew over the peculiar Equine keyboard as the members of the group swiftly assembled behind her, with Carradan jostling for a position to see over the Gryphon's wings.
The computer let out a final beep, and Skye sat back, looking more than slightly confused. Her muzzle went through several expressions, before settling on a sullen scowl, "Well. The good news is we decrypted the information. The bad news is, I don't speak the language."
Kephic glanced at Fyrenn, and Varan, both of whom nodded. They were obviously thinking precisely the same thoughts as their brother. The speckled Gryphon whistled, long and low, "This ought to be *yoodles* of fun."
Skye glanced over her shoulder, both eyebrows raised almost to her horn, "Uh... That's 'oodles.' Will someone please enlighten me?"
Fyrenn glanced nervously at Skye, then at Carradan, "I nominate Stan."
The Pegasus glowered, "Gee. Thanks."