Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 21st, Gregorian Calendar
Martins surveyed the room carefully, moving her eyes from station to station. Even though there were only a dozen other people in the room, the atmosphere was charged with an electric tang normally only felt in larger groups.
She placed her hands on her hips, and stepped to the edge of the dais. The rear of the space was mostly occupied with the elevated platform, on either side the surface melded into sets of stairs that led into the rest of the room.
The opposite wall was taken up with an immense holoscreen, and the remainder of the intervening space was filled with computer workstations.
Martins cleared her throat, and the men and women at the workstations ceased their fevered preparations.
To her left Astris and two other Humans in business suits stood waiting, their eyes fixed expectantly on her.
"Good morning everyone. I'm sure you're all as excited to be here as I am, and I'm sure we're all more than ready to see the results of our long labors. So let's not mince words. FTV-01 Flight Controllers, begin pre-launch checklist."
The Flight Director, a young Human in his early thirties, rose from his workstation.
"Pre-launch checklist. Booster?"
"Go."
"Launchcon?"
"Go."
"FIDO?"
"Go."
"GNC?"
"Go."
"FTL?"
"Go."
"Sublight?"
"Go."
"OCO?"
"Go."
"Telemetry?"
"Go."
The man nodded, and took his seat again, "Final comm check with ESTeS?"
The Extra-Solar Telemetry Satellite had been travelling through space for nearly a decade. Even with the most powerful advances in sublight propulsion the craft was still hobbled in terms of its ability to cross the vast distances of the void with any sort of alacrity.
At last, however, ESTeS had reached its destination just outside the Kuiper belt.
The vehicle was no larger than any of the other space probes that had reached the same milestone, but it was considerably more sophisticated.
The main body looked like nothing so much as a hexagonal prism, capped at one end with an engine port, and the other with a bevy of instruments and antennae.
Twin radiator panels were unfurled from two opposite sides of the body, and a small octagonal protrusion on the dorsal surface provided the small amount of extra room needed for the onboard fusion reactor.
Very little information had been sent to or from ESTeS during its voyage; Merely daily confirmations that it was on course, and intact.
But at last, the day to fulfill its purpose had arrived.
For the first time, the satellite received a more complex set of instructions. Bring systems up to full, open main sensing dish, activate stabilization gyros, and run self diagnostics.
It took less than a minute for the device to accomplish the requisite tasks.
ESTeS sent the results back to the Genesist station on the ground. All systems were nominal.
"ESTeS final comm check; Go!"
The Flight Director nodded, "Orbital Control Officer, request final verification of our launch window."
The woman leaned forward in her seat and tapped at several of her touchscreens. A signal was sent to the AI in charge of Earth's orbital traffic control.
"Final verification is confirmed. Our launch window is open and affirmed clear."
The Flight Director tapped his own screen for several seconds, then fixed his gaze on the large holoscreen, "Begin final countdown."
The building's AI began announcing over the PA in a stiff monotone.
"Final launch countdown initiated. T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."
The Booster engineer depressed a large physical button on his console.
"Ignition sequence has started."
The man his left nodded, and pressed several switches on his own panel.
"Launch rail is charged."
"...four, three, two, one..."
The Flight Director flicked open a clear switch-cover on his console, and depressed his thumb firmly into the toggle.
"Launch."
The barren African plans shook as if the Earth were about to split, and judgement day had come.
For all the technological advancements of a century, Humans were still using fairly ordinary chemical rockets to propel their creations into space. The Winnowing had held back advancement in this area above nearly all others.
Nonetheless, and in spite of the rarity of chemical fuels, the Genesists had managed to acquire the necessary raw materials, and engineering prowess, to assemble a launch system for the Sylph.
The craft dwarfed all previous drone vehicles that had ever been sent into orbit. Positioned vertically in its sunken launch tube, it was surrounded by four immense solid rocket boosters.
Beneath the man craft, a second liquid-fuel stage ensured that there would be enough propellant for a full orbital injection burn. After that, the mission relied on the vehicle's prototype sublight impulse thruster banks. If they functioned as expected, the door would be open to replacing the entire chemical and rail launch mechanism for future flights.
Fire and smoke billowed from the bottom of the ship into a series of ventilation tubes for nearly five seconds, before the monstrosity finally began to lift free of its gravitational shackles, assisted by a kick from a magnetic launch rail.
In spite of its slow start, it only took Sylph three seconds to clear the launch bay.
Another five seconds later, it was going nearly the speed of sound, riding a rapidly expanding cloud of gray, red, and orange towards the dead sky.
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Twenty Second Day, Celestial Calendar
Luna stopped short as she entered the throne room. Despite her centuries of experience, she had never witnessed anything quite so jarringly amusing as the image of three Gryphons, a Pegasus, and a Unicorn draped snoring over various pieces of vintage royal furniture.
Varan was the first to notice her arrival. As soon as he moved, the other Gryphons woke reflexively.
The Alicorn raised an eyebrow, keeping her voice low as she spoke.
"I am sorry I could not come any sooner. The messenger told me it was urgent, but the nature of my negotiation was sensitive..."
Fyrenn waved one claw in the air, "Trust me, we needed the sleep more than I can describe."
Luna sniffed, and nodded.
"Hmmm. You certainly look, and smell, as if you haven't had much time for pleasantries recently."
Kephic nodded, yawning as he responded.
"No. We haven't."
Varan glanced at the door behind the monarch as he opened his beak once more.
"We do not wish to appear rude, but it would be best if your sister were present for this conversation as well. We have grave and urgent news."
Luna shook her head, raising one eyebrow slightly as a tiny hint of confusion, and concern crept into her voice.
"My sister is not here."
Fyrenn stiffened, his one-word response emerging with a charged inflection.
"What?"
"She traveled to Earth, nigh on two days ago. She is attending a conference of your world's leaders."
The red Gryphon exhaled sharply, continuing slowly as he searched for the best way to break the bad news.
"Then please listen closely to what we have to relay. We need to leave as soon as possible. Her life is in grave danger, and yours probably is too."
Luna's eyes widened, "You have my attention."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 21st, Gregorian Calendar
"Prepare for final stage separation on my mark."
The Flight Director glanced down at the timer on his display as he counted down the last seconds.
"Three, two, one... Mark."
The upper right corner of the holoscreen displayed a spectacular view from Sylph's dorsal rear camera, and the ground team watched with baited breath as the lower liquid fuel stage fell away in a shower of ice.
The booster technician smiled, "We have good separation. Showing no structural or mechanical cautions."
The Flight director nodded, and turned his gaze to another station.
"Sublight, begin your startup checklist."
The technician, an older female Unicorn, returned the affirmative gesture as she spoke.
"Opening impulsive drive safety covers."
The Flight Director watched intently as the twin blocking panels irised away on the holoscreen. The Telemetry officer raised his voice, "Showing positive confirmation. Drive safety covers are in the open and locked position."
The Unicorn reached out with her magic field and depressed several more keys, "Running coolant system activation and re-check sequence."
"Coolant system values are nominal; Flow control valves responding within tolerances, temperature gauges responding accurately to test conditions."
The Flight Director tapped a short sequence into his console, then pointed up at the main screen, "GNC, enter final instructions for breakaway trajectory. Sublight, begin impulsive drive ignition sequence and standby for full burn."
"Sir? You have an incoming encrypted transmission. Enigma-tier."
Mr. Utah glanced up at the cabin ceiling as he phrased his response. The habit was commonplace for those who spent any amount of time on ships or submarines.
The reduced 'silent running' lighting, which served to make view screens more readily visible and to remind sailors to keep noise to a minimum, also served to frame the man's head in a lurid ring of cigarette smoke.
"Bridge it to my terminal. Authentication SCR-five-oh-six Jackson. One one four three."
"Bridging, standby."
Mr. Utah leaned forward and tapped a control on the steel surface of the desk. A screen rose from a concealed compartment, powering on to display a fisted red Human hand, wreathed in knotted cord.
The loading splash abruptly dissolved into a progress bar, and a series of complex cryptographic alphanumeric strings in a debug console.
Mr. Utah glanced around at the bulkheads as the progress bar marched inexorably towards its conclusion. He idly wondered how much of his life he had sacrificed for the Human race by spending time cooped up within the antiseptic, oppressive, gray confines of ships, bases, and the Retribution itself.
Though it was one of the largest submarines made before the winnowing, it still felt small inside. Unlike modern Earthgov vessels, Retribution's keel had been laid down in a time before cheap composites and nanofabrication.
Rather than taking advantage of modern technology to open up more crew space, the HLF had opted to simply cram more and more sophisticated machinery into the bowels of the craft.
Mr. Utah firmly believed the vessel was more than capable of taking on a lone Earthgov ship, even though that was not its main purpose.
Much of the interior was full of AI server chip racks. Secondary to mobile command and control, the boat often served as a way to ferry operatives and VIP's to and fro secretly.
Offensively the ship was equipped with fifty multi-purpose missile tubes. Relics of a nuclear age, the VLS system had since been retrofitted for more modern AI-guided MIRV-style conventional shaped warheads on magnetic launchers.
The system had never been tested before, but Mr. Utah knew it was only a matter of time. An opportunity would soon present itself. The missiles were hardly anything like the world-ending power the vessel had once been designed to carry, but they were deadly in their own way.
As much as series of nuclear warheads would have been an excellent deterrent to Earthgov meddling, the cabinet knew that it was better to avoid the entanglements that radioactive isotopes presented.
Earthgov satellites could spot the signature from a single gram of enriched plutonium through over twenty thousand feet of sea-water with centimeter-perfect accuracy. Inasmuch as the Retribution was generally invisible to Earthgov ships when submerged, the reverse was also true, and if she were detected and targeted there would be precious little warning.
From the outside, Retribution looked like a strange cross between a blue whale, and a relic of Russian neo-Soviet power-mongering. From the inside, it felt like a titanium coffin filled with strangling, stale, lukewarm air.
But somewhere betwixt the outer shell, and the inner spartan furnishings, Mr. Utah knew that a great deal of purloined modern hardware was silently waiting for its chance to strike a blow in Humanity's name.
The computer shook Mr. Utah from his musing with an abrupt, harsh tone.
He fixed his gaze on the monitor as the face of his agent sprang into existence, "That's not the color I would have chosen."
The agent shrugged and rolled his eyes.
"Me either, but I didn't get consulted on the matter."
Mr. Utah nodded slowly, and leaned in closer.
"Report."
The agent glanced over his shoulder reflexively, then leaned in towards his own screen.
"Everything is proceeding according to opspec. If they've plugged the drive in when they said they did, then the system is going to crash right on target, give or take fifty seconds."
"And the command link?" Mr. Utah took a sharp pull on his cigarette as he waited for the answer.
"Still functioning on Phoenix. If you can really pull off a situation that major, then I can definitely trip the system over the edge and get the Action Link to open. It looks like they haven't changed much in the way of the process in over a century."
Mr. Utah exhaled slowly, then raised an eyebrow as he continued plying the operative.
"Remaining enemy assets on site?"
The Agent smirked. The expression was incredibly disquieting given his unique facial structure.
"Skeleton crew only. Once the automated def-grid goes down, and I start cracking skulls from the inside? The fire team is free to walk straight in. Expect minimal resistance."
Mr. Utah raised one eyebrow, "Worst case scenario?"
"The drive takes another minute to get hold of the base AI, and resistance from inside delays access to the console. That would put us back by roughly three minutes. Absolute maximum."
"Acceptable."
Mr. Utah took another, final draught of his cigarette, before leaning in over the desk once more.
"From this point on until Ragnar begins, you are under a communications blackout. We can't risk you being discovered this late in the final preparatory phase. Follow your instructions. Take no prisoners."
The agent nodded, "Understood." He stood back from his screen, and raised a fist in salute, "My life for Humanity."
Mr. Utah raised his fist in kind, "Humanus Pro Vita."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Twenty Second Day, Celestial Calendar
Carradan wheezed, resisting the urge to cough outright in order to avoid loosing momentum.
"I... I think I'm gonna puke!"
Wordlessly, Kephic dipped and wheeled to come under the Pegasus. The speckled Gryphon rose carefully, allowing the exhausted Pony to collapse onto his back.
"Oof!" Kephic grimaced, glowering over his right shoulder.
"I'm warning you right now; This is the first and *last* time I do you this favor. You still need to loose a few stones."
Carradan chuckled weakly, still gulping in vast wheezing lungfuls of air.
"Thanks."
Kephic grunted, "Don't mention it. Ever."
Varan spoke without taking his gaze off the horizon.
"In his defense, he has surpassed his own maximum record for sustained flight on minimal sleep and food by over a day, and that after intensive exertion"
Fyrenn nodded slowly, and sighed.
"To be fair, we did take an hour to sleep and eat, and we left all our armor behind."
From her position on Varan's back, Skye yawned, and shook her head, speaking softly.
"Well, speed is the idea now, isn't it?"
Varan exhaled slowly, "Our speed does not concern me. What concerns me is that we have traveled far, and swiftly, for quite some time. We fought a difficult battle, and have continued our arduous pace, all on very little food and sleep."
Stan coughed and blinked.
"And?"
Fyrenn grimaced as he caught on to his brother's implication, "And it's almost guaranteed that we will have very little time to rest and eat before we are thrown into battle once more."
Carradan grunted, "Isn't that par for the course for you guys?"
Kephic glowered over his shoulder.
"It doesn't mean we have to like it."
Fyrenn chuckled, "Really? My drill instructor used to say that pain was the only way to know your life was worth living. That, and something about how what didn't kill you would make excellent dinner. You guys would've liked her."
Kephic chuckled, "Would have?"
The red Gryphon sighed, "Yeah. She went up in a grenade attack on an anti-terror op almost... Oh... Six years ago now. Apparently she tossed the first one back, hit the second one into a storm drain, then grabbed the third and ran straight into the enemy gun nest. We put twenty three caskets into the sea. Hers, and twenty two unmarked body bags full of the scum of the Earth."
Varan exhaled and shook his head, "And she was your combat instructor?"
Fyrenn nodded, grinning wryly.
"For military basic, and special forces induction. We lost touch after I went sea-borne for mobile ops and surface warfare cross-training. Then she showed up one very unpleasant day in Budapest with a mission, and that was that..."
Carradan's head sunk slightly, "'I'm sorry."
Fyrenn shook his head adamantly, "Don't be. Grandma always told me that we should never feel sorry when our own die well. Maybe sad for a time, but never sorry. We all choose this life. We know damn well that part of that deal and duty is the knowledge that we'll probably be asked to sacrifice our life."
Skye glared, "Don't you even start. I am not going through that again."
The red Gryphon let out a sharp, screeching laugh, "Oh really?! Says the one who pretended to be dead for---"
"Yeah yeah. Can we just promise that no one else is going to die? Fake or otherwise?" The Unicorn locked eyes with Fyrenn pleadingly. He glanced away towards the stars.
A long and awkward silence, drenched in moonlight and depression, reigned. The only sound was the tandem rhythmic wing strokes of the three Gryphons, beating out a sharp swift tattoo.
Carradan sighed, rolling his eyes lazily.
"Well gee. You guys are just all *kinds* of optimistic and cheery ain'tcha?"
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 21st, Gregorian Calendar
"This is Celia Aldrich, VZC eyewitness news, reporting live from Vancouver Northamerizone. After arriving via diplomatic aircraft over the past few days, Earthgov's newly reshuffled ruling Council has entered into its first day of closed-door talks with the ruler of the Equestrian Nation."
The reporter gestured to the expansive building behind her, framed against the gray early-morning sky in a halo of police and military vehicle flasher lights.
"As you can see, security at this event has been a paramount concern. This is the closest the press has been allowed to the new Government Complex in downtown, and ever since yesterday the city has been under lockdown. Everyone entering and leaving is passing through military checkpoints."
The woman gestured to the camera, knowing that her image would soon be replaced with pre-recorded footage that she would need to narrate.
"In light of the scuffle between JRSF units and a small PER cell only a few hours ago, perhaps the added layers of protection are necessary. However, the sheer scope of the measures being taken, including the deployment of an entire light carrier, have led some to speculate that either the topics of discussion are incredibly sensitive... Or that Earthgov is expecting this week to be extremely eventful on the tactical front."
Celia brightened her smile artificially as a red light on the camera's front-facing holopad blinked twice to inform her that her image was once more live.
"Either way, residents have been advised to stay in their homes and restrict travel to the bare necessities. Major road intersections and ramps, as well as all public transit terminals, are under complete Military Police protection. If you live in the Vancouver area, please try to limit your time spent away from home to keep the streets clear for diplomatic and military vehicles. Reporting live from downtown Vancouver, I'm Celia Aldrich. Back to you Mark."
"Impulsive burn complete. Shutting down sublight drives."
The Flight Director glanced up at the holoscreen. Under the incredibly powerful impetus of the new sublight technology, Sylph had put nearly as much distance between itself and Earth in a matter of minutes, as the Apollo capsules had after two entire days of travelling.
"Begin pre-FTL checklist."
A flurry of activity erupted amongst the workstations. Councilor Martins closed her eyes, and drank in the sound of organized chaos.
"Arming engine coverplates. Armed."
"Retracting nacelle coverplates."
"Switching drive coolant to secondary channels."
"Testing discharge on main capacitor banks."
"Pre-initializing heatsinks."
"Running initial nacelle charge sequence."
"Opening navigational deflection field dish."
"Nacelle pre-ignite sequence has returned all green."
"Nav deflection fields charged to full."
"GNC variables finalized. Jump computer is returning valid signal."
The Flight Director glanced up at Martins.
"Ma'm? We're ready here. Would you do the honors?"
Martins inhaled deeply, straightening the jacket to her suit reflexively. She stepped forward, and placed both hands firmly on the rail in front of her.
She cast her gaze from face to face, offering a moment of non-verbal encouragement to each flight engineer in turn. At last, she stood back, and placed her hands firmly on her hips.
"Engage."