//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 // Story: Hegira: Eternal Delta // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Nineteenth Day, Celestial Calendar Luna sighed, and tapped one armored hoof against the small strongbox, "Only you know the permutation?" The object was rectangular, metallic, and heavily riveted. A complex lock based on Equine seasonal glyphs adorned the front, its gold and silver trim reflected onto the floor by the torchlight. Sildinar nodded as he hefted the container, "Until it is delivered to Shining Armor? Aside from you and your sister? Yes." Luna sighed once again, and glanced out the window at her moon. The night was still young, but she had developed an incessant habit of checking its position every few minutes while it was in the sky, "I worry. Is this truly the solution to my concerns?" The Gryphon inclined his head, "Your sister has given her counsel. She agreed to this. I have no personal say in the matter. Indeed I have little opinion, because I am not sure I understand all the factors that went into the decision. I am, however, quite happy to be of assistance." The Lunar monarch nodded, and offered the closest thing to a smile Sildinar had ever seen on her muzzle, "Your kindness is appreciated. I know the Crystal Empire is out of your way for your return journey." "The time spent is worth it. Give my regards to Celestia when she returns." Sildinar began ambling towards the grand hall's immense doorways, and Luna fell into step beside him. The princess gestured with a hoof, "Be safe, and swift of wing." Sildinar smiled as he left his companion at the doors, spreading his wings while the guards opened the mighty portals, "You as well." Silently, the Gryphon prince took to the air, strongbox firmly nestled between his wings, and tied to his rucksack, secure in the fact that only three living beings knew of the infinitely precious contents. Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) March 18th, Gregorian Calendar "You're sure?" Lantry steepled his fingers, and leaned in towards his screen, increasing the size of his face on Hutch's monitor. The latter nodded emphatically, "Triff was very... 'Cooperative,' once he finally grasped the particulars of his situation. He's been passing hardware to the HLF for a long time, and they trusted him enough to bring him out to their nearest compound for consultation work." Lantry's brow furrowed, "Good work. As disturbing as these developments are, it's good to finally be one step ahead." Hutch sighed, and sat back in his chair, glancing briefly out of his office window at the distant Equestrian stars visible across nearly a third of the sky, "This is definitive proof that the Front is funding and puppeting the Occupy movement as well. They set the bombs, the bombs were made with the chips Triff supplied, and his point of contact was purely HLF." "Yes. That little revelation has sparked some changes of heart inside Joint Command. There's talk of establishing a treaty amendment to stipulate a mile-square safety zone around Bureaus and JRSF facilities wherein martial law would be in effect, and right of assembly would be indefinitely suspended." Hutch's eyes widened, and he leaned forward once more, "Is that even legal? Is there any kind of precedent?" Lantry tilted his head, "Surprisingly, yes. The initial terms of the Conversion accords allow for the establishment of not only sovereign Equestrian soil on Earth, but jointly-owned soil as well. Under that stipulation, the species could establish the safe zones by unanimous vote, then invoke Gryphon law to permit the martial rule." Hutch scratched the back of his neck, and sighed once more, "For now, I just want permission to handle the HLF. I won't have anyone else dying on my watch." Lantry tapped at his screen, "We discussed your predicament as well, and Earthgov Military command agrees. It's time for the gloves to come off again." "If we don't put holes in heads every now and again, the Front forgets who we are." Hutch snorted wryly. Lantry nodded slowly in agreement, "They attacked first. They're HLF, so this is a purely military matter, and we're not going to suffer a repeat of Carrenton here. You've been assigned an FB-26 squadron from Fort Bragg, a support artillery package from Tobyhanna Depot, and of course you're expected to make full use of all joint assets your command affords you." Hutch chuckled, "Oh no worries. I've never been one for subtlety." Lantry sat back and folded his hands again, "And in this case, that's a good thing. Command would like this done neatly, and quickly. Strike hard and fast, pulverize any resistance, and pick your prisoners out of the survivors. If there are any." "Yes sir. You want me to bring you back a souvenir?" Hutch grinned, and raised an eyebrow. Lantry shrugged, "I'll settle for more prisoners. Actionable intelligence is the best thing you can possibly put on my desk." Hutch chuckled more heartily, "So noted. I'll try to convince the Dragons not to torch whatever is left before the troops land." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Nineteenth Day, Celestial Calendar "Have I ever told anyone how much I hate small, dark places beneath the ground? When I was a Human Marine I didn't used to be so damn claustrophobic..." Fyrenn grunted as he scraped one wing against a particularly rough protrusion of rock. Kephic held a talon up to his beak for silence, but spoke in ironic defiance of his own gesture, "Well we're flighted creatures. What did you expect to go along with that? A proficiency in mining? An urge to go spelunking?" IJ glared at the two Gryphons, but Varan beat her to the verbal punch, "If our voices echo through this tube and carry to an occupied chamber, we will almost certainly be caught and slaughtered by a vastly superior host of foes. Shut. Your. Beaks." Carradan rolled his eyes, confident that no one would catch the gesture in the darkness. The group pressed on, wiggling through the rock tube, until it abruptly widened out into a small chamber. The smooth basalt walls were peppered with a dozen other offshoot apertures. The Gryphons paused, squeezing to one side to allow IJ to pass and examine the potential routes. The Pegasus swiveled her head from opening to opening, before finally raising her snout and sniffing twice. Her eyes immediately went to one exit in particular; the irregular, dim opening was slightly larger than the other exits, and to the Gryphons' collective relief, IJ motioned with a hoof towards it. The group continued their silent, unpleasant journey with Fyrenn in the lead, and Varan in the rear. While Carradan and Skye swiftly lost track of time, IJ had enough combat experience to keep a fairly precise internal clock. The Gryphons were both blessed, and cursed, with the ability to count and recount the exact seconds since the start of their trip. In the absence of anything to look at, or even listen for, Fyrenn found himself agonizing over the passage of time. His only consolation was the presence of his friends. Gryphons subjected their warriors to intense tests designed to strain both mind, and body, to the breaking point, before promoting them to Knight status. One of the more difficult tests involved being dropped into a deep cave with no light whatsoever, and not a single soul for companionship. For an avian, particularly one reliant on its eyesight, there were few physical tortures worse than total enclosure in a small dark space. A horrifying thought occurred to Fyrenn; He had nowhere to go if a smaller opponent, such as a young Drone, were to surprise him. His relative bulk would make him an easy target, and his equal agility would be useless in a space so small that he was unable to even twitch his wings. Just as the thought occurred to him, however, he found himself suddenly tumbling out of the tube, and into a dimly lit space. He turned his momentum to his advantage, and rolled silently, drawing his sword in the process. The red Gryphon came up to his hind legs, and assumed a ready stance, as the rest of the group forced their way out of the ventilation shaft. The lighting in the chamber was barely equivalent to what a smoldering leaf would have produced, but it was more than enough for Gryphic eyes to make out every detail. Fyrenn squinted, then raised an eyebrow, and cast a curious glance at IJ. He gestured to the cavern's most obvious feature, and spoke under his breath, "Pods?" Lining both walls for several meters were a series of organic pod-like structures. The pony-sized containers looked as if they had been grown into the rock, and their leading face was made from some sort of glistening hardened secretion that emitted a faint glow. IJ nodded, "They're for healing, and regeneration, when the Hive does not have the energy to repair the damage the normal way. We've... They've been using them all too often recently." Kephic glanced at the cavern's two diametrically opposed entrances, "Which way now?" IJ's brow knit, and she shook her head, "I'm not sure." Carradan flinched, and the panic in his voice elevated the volume of his whisper to wince-inducing levels, "Are you saying---" Skye roughly smacked his left hoof, and glared. The Salmon Pegasus blushed, and continued in a lower tone, "Are you saying we're lost inside a *Hive*?" The ex-Changeling raised one eyebrow disdainfully, "I know where *both* of these lead generally speaking... But I do not know which path we should take. We should have met stiff opposition by now if an army was truly being mustered here in secret." Varan's beak turned down, and his ears flattened in concern, "This is, indeed, troubling. Is it possible new expansion tunnels have been created since your departure?" IJ nodded, "Yes. And if so, they'd be off of the main Cavern. That's up the passage to the north... But getting through the central chamber without being spotted is impossible." Fyrenn shook his head, "But we *have* to know if they're readying an assault." Kephic held up a claw, "Shouldn't we be able to tell if they are just by observing the activity in the central chamber?" IJ nodded once more. Kephic gestured with his head towards the northern passage. Fyrenn stepped forward to the point position once more, followed by IJ, then Kephic. Skye and Carradan followed side by side, and Varan provided rear guard. The group was finally inside the Hive. Threats could come from anywhere, at any time. And their enemies had the homefield advantage. Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) March 18th, Gregorian Calendar Hutch placed both hands on the center console, and leaned over the dim green holoprojection of the landscape. The interface structure itself was situated between the vehicle's Commander on the left, and the Gunner on the right. Both officers were faced by large sweeping stereoscopy-enabled screens that provided a night-vision view of the vehicle's exterior. The Commander doubled as driver, and thus had four chunky steel control pedals at his feet, and an otherwise unadorned master systems display panel beneath his viewscreen. The Gunner's station had only two pedals, and a more specialized targeting panel, but also possessed dual control sticks within easy grasping range of both hands. The cabin felt only slightly cramped due to the General's presence. It was designed to accommodate battlefield commanders should the need arise. Hutch braced himself as the vehicle lurched to a stop. The Mark VII Long-Range Rail Accelerated piercing artillery support Cannon, or L-RAC, was an unusually beefy land vehicle. The mobile self-propelled gun was dwarfed only by its rare and monstrous cousin, the Assault purposed 'A-RAC.' Mark VIIs were effectively windowless hexagonal metallic prisms with four underslung suspension bogies containing tank-like drive treads, and deployable three-foot-thick titanium stability struts on compressible rams. Their main, and most obvious feature, was their enormous dual-barreled rail cannon. The fantastically-sized metal tubes were widest at their base, narrowing to a smaller point before flaring into enormous twin angled muzzle guards at the end. The weapon was so long, that while it was rear-mounted, it stuck out nearly another vehicle's length when stowed horizontally. The base of the cannon was attached to a rotating hexagonal pyramid turret with one hundred fifty millimeter thick composite armor, comparable to the mid-class side armor of the hull itself. The forward edge of the Mark VII was studded with an array of protected and hardened sensing instruments that took the place of traditional windows and scopes. To the rear, a protected satellite uplink antenna allowed for remote data transfer. Hutch raised an eyebrow, and sat back into his auxiliary jump seat, peering down once more at the terrain hologram, and the square icons residing on its surface that indicated his vehicle, as well as the other five L-RACs, and two escort tanks in the convoy. The vehicle's commander flipped his headset microphone into ready position. Hutch reached beside his seat and snatched a wireless headset for himself. Despite the vehicle's incredibly thick armor and kinetic damping layers, the noise of firing still reached a hundred and fifty decibels within the compartment. Ear protection was not just for communication. It was to prevent hearing loss. The Commander spoke as he reached out and flicked a heavyset switch behind a pulldown safety interlock above him, "Deploying struts." Outside, the pneumatically powered rods on each wheel bogey began to gracefully extend, while the track carriages themselves locked into place via a series of thick steel umbilical bolts, and shock absorbers. When the struts reached the ground, a series of pneumatic pulses drove the feet several inches into the topsoil firmly rooting the L-RAC in place. After several moments of silence in the cabin, lit by the eerie green touchscreen and holographic instrumentation glow, the Gunner spoke. Her lilting and peaceful Indian accent belied the fury and havoc of her trademark skills, "All other vehicles report; Ready to fire on command." Hutch nodded, and reached out to pinch the terrain hologram, pulling his hands apart to zoom out the view until he could see the target on the scope, "Enable Sat-vision uplink. Connect me to the air-wing." The Northrop/Boeing Dynamics FA-26 'Scythe' was the mainstay VsTOL attack fighter of the Earthgov Air Corps. Lesser known, rarer, and more seldom used was its beefier counterpart, the FB-26 'Scimitar.' Scimitars lacked VsTOL capability due to their added weight, and sported a bulkier midsection than a Scythe. Otherwise their airframes were effectively identical to the two-seater version of the FA-26. With six external hardpoints, two irising stealth-enabled missile launch tubes, and a mid-sized fast-cycling bomb bay, an FB-26 could carry enough smart munitions to level an area equal to the square mileage of Manhattan to dust in less than twelve seconds. Attack Wing 'Kestrel' out of Fort Bragg North Carolina, was comprised of eight FB-26 craft. "Kestrel Lead, assault control. Status?" The RIO of the lead aircraft tapped the 'COMM' holo-toggle on the left side of his display, "Kestrel 1; We're Angels-Ten and fourteen miles out. Time-to-target is one point two mikes. Requesting weapons-free authorization." Hutch's voice filtered through the sixteen headsets once more, "Permission to engage is granted. You are ordered to expend *all* main ordinance on the target zone with extreme prejudice, and pacify any surviving ground assistance with remaining supplementary armament." The RIO nodded, and tapped the rear of his pilot's seat, "Computer; Disengage warhead safeties. Authorization Sierra One, One, Two, Charlie." As he spoke, the man nudged open the cover of the 'MSTR ARM' switch, and depressed the toggle. The Pilot did the same with her own safety interlock, speaking as she did so, "Computer; Disengage warhead safeties, and arm all payloads. Authorization Sierra, Two, Five, One, Tango." The Computer beeped twice, and spoke in a deep masculine voice, "Safeties released. Wing-hardpoint warheads armed. Bomb-bay warheads armed. Warhead AI engaged. Diagnostics complete. All weapons ready to deploy." The RIO shrugged, "The HLF seems to think pretty highly of Humanity. Let's see if we can remind them how 'creative' we can be with shit that goes boom." The HLF compound in Syracuse had done its best to benefit from several years of peace and quiet in the uninhabited New York wilderness. The installation was one of the primary compounds used by the Front to backstop it's East-Coast North Amerizone operations. Built under the ruins of an old Air National Guard base, the facility was ensconced under two hundred feet of granite, steel, and kinetic-absorption alloy armor with backscatter stealth coating. HLF command had been assured that the facility would never be located. Assurance had led to sloppiness. While the Front possessed contacts and technology allowing them to detect incoming stealth-equipped fighters, none of the systems were in use, for the sake of power consumption. The mistake proved utterly fatal. Kestrel-I released all six of it's external bombs in swift succession. Designed for multiple roles, the warheads were each equipped with toroidal steering fins, LIDAR guidance scanners, and independent AI. Each was programmed to search for targets of opportunity as they approached the ground. The hope was that each warhead would find a soft target by making its decision as late as possible. The first two warheads found no targets. The concussion of their twin detonations did little to the compound below. The remaining four bombs, however, swiftly located the camouflaged exit hatches for the facility's anti-air weaponry. Each shell impacted with a four kiloton explosion that instantly immolated it's target. The Syracuse compound was now devoid of countermeasures capable of dissuading the FB-26 squadron from it's mission. As an air-raid alarm began to sound, and personnel rushed to seal blast doors, the rest of Kestrel squadron unleashed its entire payload simultaneously. While aiming for a decent spread, given that Earthgov Intelligence did not know the exact dimensions of the base, nearly two-thirds of the warheads were concentrated on what Hutch guessed to be the exact center of the compound. The General guessed well. One hundred twenty two warheads slammed into the earth and detonated simultaneously. Forty two four-kiloton shells from wing hardpoints, and eighty quarter-megaton thermionic-fusion devices. In one gigantic expanding wall of pure nuclear light, sound, and air compression, the combined detonation shook the earth with a 6.7 magnitude quake, and produced a twenty-five mile air-burst equivalent to several hundred Hiroshima bombs. While the detonations did very little to damage the compound itself, the quake they triggered caused instantaneous and critical damage to form in the facility's armor as the Earth buckled and twisted in the throes of seismic fury. Eighteen four meter gouges formed in the metal, along with a host of deep running smaller cracks in the shock-absorption layer beneath. High above, Kestrel-I's RIO smiled, and spoke into his headset, "Ground Command, Kestrel-one-one; Payload delivered. No resistance spotted. The meat is tenderized." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Nineteenth Day, Celestial Calendar "I don't understand..." Fyrenn cocked his head as the words escaped his beak in a nearly-inaudible monotone. He shifted slightly to allow IJ, Skye, and Kephic to peer out of the oblong rock fissure, and down into the cavern below. The group's hiding spot was little more than an ancient maintenance tunnel, long since abandoned. As a consequence, space was once again quite scarce. IJ tensed visibly, "This... Makes no sense." Kephic raised an eyebrow inquisitively. IJ shifted uncomfortably, and gestured slightly with one hoof. Fyrenn gazed once more into the central cavern in continued astonishment. Spread out hundreds of feet below, stretching out for six hundred yards in all directions, was an immense void in the rock. The floor was populated alternately with dark angular crystalline structure, and swarms upon swarms of Changeling Drones. The red Gryphon silently did a head-count and arrived at the exact, and staggering, number; Two million four hundred and eighty seven thousand six hundred and ninety eight. Under the dim green lighting of bioluminescent fluid trapped in crystal globes, the majority of the wakeful worker drones were shoring up the main supports of the cavern, and the crystalline structures that dotted the floor. Most of the younger drones, and those dedicated to other roles, were huddling inside the structures, as if seeking protection. Fyrenn's eyes narrowed, and he inhaled slowly, "They look... Almost as if they're expecting some sort of attack." IJ shook her head slowly, "No. Not an attack. A disaster. My only memory of anything similar was during an earthquake that occurred shortly after I was spawned. The construction drones built redoubts like those for us to hide in during the aftershocks." Varan cocked his head slightly, "Then this Hive is not preparing for an attack, but rather some sort of cataclysm?" The white Pegasus flared her wings reflexively in frustration, and glared, "We don't know that for certain. We have no way of finding out either." Skye inclined her head, "Wellll... That's not entirely true." IJ glowered, Carradan winced, but the Gryphons all perked up in their own unique fashion. Fyrenn spoke first, "Go on..." The Unicorn avoided eye contact, "It's just a theory. But it might be possible for me to break into the Hive using IJ. The Hive mind I mean." IJ squirmed in a circle until she had revolved one hundred and eighty degrees to face Skye, "Do you have even the first clue as to how dangerous your proposal is? If the attempt at connecting does not shatter your mind into a million pieces, then the Queen will almost *certainly* detect us, and we will all die as a consequence!" Skye glowered, "What? You don't think I can fool a glorified pony-shaped insect?" The words elicited a similarly piercing expression from IJ, but the tan Unicorn forged ahead unimpeded, "We can't afford to let this just lie. We need to know what those coded letters meant. Somewhere, sometime, somehow, we know there is going to be an attack..." IJ waved her hoof dismissively, "I'm not disagreeing with that. But I think you're underestimating just how much we 'glorified insects' can sting." Skye snorted, her gaze unwavering, "You have a better idea? For that matter, do you have an alternate idea of *any* description?" IJ paused, her glare turning into a sour scowl. After a tense moment of silence, she shook her head slowly, "No." Fyrenn sighed, and stared down into the cavern, speaking in a low but firm undertone, "We can't leave here without answers. Too many lives are at stake, and we don't have time to get this intel any other way." He arched his head over his back, and fixed Skye and Stan with his gaze by turns, "Neither of you need go any further. This is inching closer and closer to a suicide mission by the minute, and that's not what you signed up for." Skye chuckled, a wry note creeping into her voice as one eyebrow shot up, "You three? Alone? Down here? For starters, I'm the only Unicorn here, and possibly the only Unicorn *anywhere* who has the know-how to break into the Hive Mind and download thoughts." She chuckled softly, "More importantly? Three Gryphons underground? Three *male* Gryphons? Your collective sense of direction is about on par with the IQ of a parsnip down here. Even if you survived whatever cockamamie plan you'd manage to cobble together, you'd never figure out how to get back to the surface." Varan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly, "Though I agree with your first argument, and while subterranean environments do make us uncomfortable, I assure you they have no negative impact whatsoever on our sense of direction, nor our capacity for eidetically remembering---" Kephic cleared his throat softly, grinning at his brother all the while, "It was a joke." The golden Gryphon froze, then shook his head slowly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his beak, "Ah." Carradan ruffled his wings uncomfortably, his feathers chafing against the rough rock walls of the tube, "So... Can we just get this over with already? I'm a sky dweller too ya know. I don't like it down here any more than the featherbrains do." Fyrenn nodded firmly, and turned one eye towards IJ, "You know this place better than any of us ever could. Where do we start and how do we maximize our chances, however slim, of getting out of here in one living breathing piece?" The blue and white Pegasus grunted in a brief show of contention, then gestured with one hoof and began to speak in a clear-cut monotone, "See that outcropping?" "I wanna go on record right now; this is a bad, bad, *bad* plan, and you should all feel bad." In response to Carradan's whispered tirade, Fyrenn shot him a piercing expression that was two parts warning, and one part good-natured admonishment. The red Gryphon swiveled his head back to the edge of the rock outcropping. As he maintained his careful vigil over the cavern, he responded in the lowest tone his syrinx could produce. The sound was many octaves below what most creatures could perceive, but he knew Stan's acute Equine hearing was up to the task, "It's going to be a bad, bad, bad *day* for all of us if your chattering brings a drone over here. And then you'd feel bad." Carradan rolled his eyes, and settled into the onerous task of lying perfectly still and quiet, with nothing more than four inches of shale separating him from the largest conglomeration of Changelings within hundreds of miles. Several meters to the right, just out of safe talking range, Kephic and Varan were similarly ensconced in a perch of IJ's choosing. Both of the groups were tasked with a small but vital component of the plan. Creating an opportune distraction. "Before we do this... " IJ turned to bring Skye into her peripheral vision as she spoke. The Unicorn snorted, "You're really going to ask me if I can handle this? Again? I was pulping Human countermeasure AI's in my spare time before you even knew what *Earth* was." IJ spared a single moment to fix her companion with a vicious glare, "Before we do this," she grit the words out as if she were spitting nails, "I want to warn you that simple disruption is not enough. You will have to continue to produce a mimicry of the Drone's mental imprint---" Skye rolled her eyes, "Or the Queen will notice that there's a gap in the Hive? No! Really?! That had *never* occurred to me. Especially not after you gave such a vivid description of 'growing-up-drone.' " The Pegasus sighed, "When dealing with Changelings, an abundance of caution is the most prudent course. Trust me. I have some experience with this." The Unicorn inclined her head slightly, the sarcasm dropping away from her voice and her expression alike, "Yeah... I guess I can't really blame you for being on pins and needles here." By way of response, IJ gestured with one hoof towards their quarry. The Pegasus had been watching the Drone for several minutes, and noticed that its pattern of activity was likely going to bring it to the edge of the cavern. Away from its compatriots. Skye tilted her head. IJ answered the unspoken query with a single nod. The Unicorn slowly conjured a small spell at the tip of her horn, and held it as silently as she could. The magic took the form of an exceedingly faint glowing orb of light. When the time was right, and the Drone was at the farthest point from the Hive, and the closest point to the hidden Gryphons, Skye loosed the bolt. The nearly-invisible halo of blue light zipped across the intervening space instantly, and took up a position just behind the head of the Drone. Kephic was in the best position to act on the signal. The speckled Gryphon moved too swiftly for IJ and Skye to catch more than a glimpse of his crest, as he slung a small pebble of basalt from his perch, and ducked away into hiding as it flew straight and true. Skye reached out with her magic, squinting as she tried to sense and memorize the imprint the Drone's mind was making in the aether. She managed to pin down the unique Thaumatic signature just as Kephic's projectile struck the target's skull. The rock had been meant as nothing more than a lure, and as such the impact barely managed to get the Drone's attention. But it was enough. The chitin-covered creature froze, its glittering verdigris gaze instantly fixating on the rock's origin point. As the Drone began ambling slowly towards Kephic's hiding spot, Skye worked furiously to weave a disruption spell together with a false projection of the Drone's mental imprint. Ephemeral runes, glowing various shades of white, blue, and cyan, began to weave their way around her horn as she locked her eyes on the back of the Drone's head. Just as the Changeling reached the edge of Kephic's perch, Skye finished knitting together the instructions for her magic. Skye's spell flew at the back of the Drone's head, in the form of a glittering bolt of blue and green energies. The Thaumatic charge arrived nearly two seconds before Kephic's fisted claw. By the time the force of the Gryphon's limb has rendered the Drone unconscious, his link to the hive had been nearly as scrambled as his wits, and his skull armor. For a protracted moment of silence, no one moved. Skye herself was not entirely sure that her impromptu spell had functioned as intended, and no one was eager to reveal themselves and test the validity of her theories too recklessly. After nearly half a minute, Fyrenn finally lost patience and leapt silently over the rock that comprised his cover. He darted across the gravelly floor of the chamber with absolute silence, slung the Drone over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and loped back to safety. The red Gryphon finished laying the unconscious insect out on its back just as Skye, IJ, Kephic, and Varan arrived. Carradan chuckled grimly, "I gotta admit, I wasn't real sure that was gonna work." Skye exhaled in relief, "You and me both." IJ squinted in concern, "There is no cause for celebration yet. The harder task is still to come." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) March 18th, Gregorian Calendar Hutch sat back, and tapped one finger against the holotank as he turned to the L-RAC's commander, "Begin the primary assault. No weapons-holds, no quarter. Keep cycling until we're fresh out of shells." The man nodded, and spoke into his headset as he swiveled his seat to face the holotank, "All vehicles; Access Sat-Vision five and set target co-ordinates based on overflight data. Range for high-arc trajectory, time weapon release for synchronic impacts." The Gunner nodded, and pushed a lock of hair away from one ear as she grasped her left control toggle, "Ranging for acute angle impact. Synchronizing fire with formation. Computer has selected high-density tungsten/depleted uranium shells for the initial volley. I concur. Permission to release interlocks?" The commander swiveled back to his console, "Permission granted. Prepare to disengage safety interlocks. Please insert your firing key, and place your thumb on the biometric scanner." As he spoke, the man performed the requested actions himself, removing a small semi-transparent chip from a chain around his neck, and sticking it into a slot. Both officers placed their thumbs on identical panels on the cabin's opposite walls, and placed their free hands on the stubs of their keys. The commander counted down, "At this time, 01:50 zulu, I am authorizing weapons release as per our orders, and pursuant to Earthgov directive twenty-nine-A. Computer; Please verify orders by Stratcom uplink and engage biometric access system." "Permissive Action Link established. Orders verified. Access system is online. Verifying biometric data... Verified. Please turn your keys." The Commander inclined his head, "Three. Two. One. Initiate." The officers turned their keys in tandem, and the computer let out a three-toned klaxon, "Warning! Safety interlocks are now disengaged. Cannon live. Rounds loaded." The Commander turned back to the holotank, and nodded at the gunner, "Lock gun bearing. Twenty degrees positive yaw rotation, seventy-point-five-two-six degrees positive gun depression, four inch barrel extension. Set guards to precision fire mode, and cycle heat sinks." The Gunner depressed several keys with one hand, peering intently at the data overlaid onto her scope. The device was positioned at eye-level such that she could easily lean into it, or pull back to see her console. She smiled, "Bearing locked. Heat sinks cycled. Computer reports diagnostic complete. Ready to fire." Hutch grinned, "I always did love a good fireworks show." "Fire!" The commander could not resist performing a traditional forward charge motion with his right arm. The Gunner flicked up the hat switch on her joystick, and rammed her index finger into the trigger. Even through the electronic aural-cancellation, and compression-based acoustic mufflers of the headphones, the noise was as deafening as the thunder of the apocalypse. The guns of the L-RAC firing line spoke out in sequence. Each artillery unit fired one after the other, right barrel followed within a half-second by left-barrel, with a single second in-between vehicle firing times. Each of the four-set of magnetic rails energized, powered by the massive banks of capacitors, themselves filled by the vehicles' onboard dual high-tension fusion reactors. Under the insistence of the 'right hand rule' twelve identical seventeen ton magnetic-cored, tungsten-sheathed, depleted uranium rounds peeled away from the L-RACs at over two hundred and thirty times the speed of sound. While capable of lofting only smaller shells in comparison to an A-RAC, L-RACs could configure to impart spin to their projectiles in such a way as to maximize accuracy and impact speed. The most incredible feature, however, was their range. A Standard A-RAC could hit a target with reasonable accuracy half a continent away, a fire range just short of the guns on Earthgov naval vessels. An L-RAC, by contrast, could loft a shell across an entire hemisphere in a pinch. And once the metal chunk impacted, it would pierce far more armor than virtually any other weapon ever devised. The twelve initial shells in the L-RAC volley landed with almost the same force as the preceding bomber run. The critical difference, however, was that the force was maintained as kinetic energy for several seconds as the rounds passed through granite, and the cracked barrier shield of the base, like an AP pistol shell through a watermelon. When the ordinance finally encountered the meat of the base, it lost ninety percent of its kinetic energy, dispersing it in the form of Rayleigh waves into the structure, an air-burst, and several immense explosions. The glassed surface-crater produced by the tactical nuclear bombing rippled from the sub-surface energy, registering as another major earthquake, and setting off smaller un-felt aftershocks as far away as South Carolina. Abandoned rail tunnels, mine shafts, and forgotten bunkers within a five hundred mile radius collapsed violently as the shockwave reached them, and liquefied their aging pre-winnowing supports. Back in Syracuse, the barrage continued unabated for nearly three hours, at a rate of fifty one shells per minute. By the time all nine thousand one hundred and eighty rounds were exhausted, the HLF compound's entire defensive layer had been reduced to scattered glowing glass shards. Where once had stood an abandoned air base, surrounded by petrified trees, now stood an immense miles-wide smooth glass crater that was nearly a half mile deep at its center, pockmarked with entry wounds the size of city blocks that belched forth acrid red and orange smoke. The pale half-light of a full moon just barely pierced the iron sky to cast a dingy gray luminance on the lower levels of the HLF base, suddenly raw and exposed like damaged tissue, twisted into a hellish pretzel beneath the compacted slag of everything that had once rested above. "Do you suppose any of them are left alive?" Klarien let out a long, slow breath as he stared towards the soft glow of the burning base on the horizon. Taranis rumbled deep in his chest as he removed the safeties from his weaponry, "If any of the opposition survived, they will soon wish they had not." The cobalt Dragon lifted a single claw, and waved it forward. The assembled craft in the clearing began to hum and whine with the collective spooling of multiple engines. The five APCs and two VTOLs were mostly on site for prisoner transport, and to deploy data mining specialists once the remainder of the compound had been secured. Klarien personally doubted there would be anything left for them to hack. He was well aware of the sheer destructive force of an artillery strike. Led by the two armored reptiles, the strike team set off to finish their grim task. Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) Fourth Month, Nineteenth Day, Celestial Calendar Carradan sighed, and shifted for what seemed like the thousandth time, "I still don't get why she has to bridge them. Why doesn't she just reach into that thing's mind and take what we need?" Skye spoke in an edgy monotone, without turning, focused almost entirely on her task, "Because the Gryphons are magic-immune, and you and I don't have the brain structure to cope with the Hive mind. IJ does. Doesn't matter what Celestia did to her body proper; Her mind is the same as it's always been. Now if you don't shut your muzzle and let me work? I'll fry *your* brain like a haycake." Stan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Fyrenn, silently mouthing, 'Can she do that?' Fyrenn shrugged his wings, and placed a single talon to his beak in a shushing gesture. Silence reigned once more, save for the nigh-imperceptible chime-like sound of Skye's magic. Her horn had become the apex of an arc of light bridging IJ's unconscious form, and that of the Drone. Kephic grunted, "I wonder what it's like..." Varan shook his head slowly, "I do not. I doubt that it is, in any way, pleasant." Most of the time the Hive was a series of voices, images, and miscellaneous sounds that tugged at the back of the brain incessantly, coming forward into the center of consciousness when a piece of information or a specific link was summoned. It was, however, possible for a Changeling to disconnect from their external senses and perceive the Hive as a space within their consciousness, through an imitation of the five senses. Using Skye's mental bridge, IJ was doing just that, via the unlucky target Drone's link to the Hive. The use of its own link, combined with Skye's imitation of its mental footprint, would hopefully fool the Hive-Queen into ignoring the queries IJ was about to make. She took a few slow steps forward, and allowed the nascent stream of whispers to wash over her. The words projected themselves as hieroglyphs in the air around her; A glowing stream of ancient language stretching out into the infinite blackness in every direction. In a few places, images and blurry colored amorphous representations of emotional ebb and flow were ensconced within the data streams. Tentatively, IJ reached out a hoof and tapped one of the streams, linking her thoughts in the guise of the Drone's to the Hive at large. Abruptly, the whispers decreased in volume, and a smaller subset of voices and sounds leapt to the forefront. Corresponding with the aural change, several images and glyph streams expanded to fill the air in a sphere around the Pegasus, shouldering out the other data to the horizon in the process. IJ's first indication that something was wrong came in the form of a telling absence. Given the swarm of activity within the central chamber, the Hive should have been so abuzz with information on the current situation, that it would have been impossible to avoid it, let alone difficult to find it. Yet, IJ could find no mention whatsoever of the reason for the Razor Spires Hive's odd behavior in the top layers of thought. She debated pulling away. Something was clearly wrong. But in the end, she opted to push just a few layers down. The chatter within the swarm was immense; Surely the Queen wouldn't take notice of such simple queries. She knew the instant she made the connection, that all was lost. "You have erred. Most gravely. And your error shall be my crowning triumph." As the words echoed through her skull with grim certainty, and frustratingly justified arrogance, IJ shivered in fear. And made peace with her impending death.