//------------------------------// // Chapter 46 // Story: Hegira: Eternal Delta // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) April 1st, Gregorian Calendar "This is the reason I had reservations about following through on your suggestion." Councilor Loryss squinted across the desk at Minos, and frowned sharply, cutting off any potential objection before it could even pass his lips. "There was always a substantial risk that the asset would be moved out of our zone of influence. The further from us that the Gryphon takes her, the greater the chance we lose track of her, and in turn the greater the chance the things she knows will return to damage this Echelon." Minos sighed, and shook his head slowly. "We still have tracking. We're following the emissions of her jamming bracelet and we could---" Loryss glanced to the side, and held up one hand, cutting off Minos instantly. She allowed several moments of silence to pass before speaking. "Your performance as an administrator in this program has been lacking. As a result, it has been decided that you will be re-assigned to a new endeavor, that requires less finesse. Effective immediately." Minos shook his head emphatically, licking his lips in a reflexive sign of nervous irritation. "No one else in Echelon Twelve is qualified to handle this program. I've been overseeing these assets from the beginning." The Councilor waved one hand dismissively, and picked up a DaTab from her desk, fiddling absently with the screen as she spoke. "You've become a liability here. I will be replacing you, as I have administrative experience with the program. Other resources will be deployed to retrieve the asset. You will report to your next contact..." The Councilor placed the DaTab onto her desk, and slid it across to Minos. "...As described in this information packet. The Echelon will not look favorably on any future mistakes. Let alone insubordination, or complaints. Do we understand each other?" Minos grit his teeth, and wrapped his hands tightly around the DaTab. He spent a long moment glaring at Loryss, before finally nodding. When he opened his mouth, his tone was cold, and forcibly emotionless. "Yes ma'am." "Where exactly *are* we headed, Fyrenn? You've barely said a word in five hours." Neyla twisted her neck first to the left, then to the right, to alleviate a small cramp. From her position on the Gryphoness' back, April yawned, and nodded. "Yeah, how much longer? I love being up here... But I'm starting to get kinda hungry." Fyrenn twisted the satchel off his shoulder, and dug into a side pocket. A moment later, a glistening plastic package zipped across the intervening space. Neyla snatched it out of the air before it could began a downward spiral towards the ocean. The Gryphoness slit the packaging neatly with her beak, and passed the Jerky up to April, who tucked into it with gusto. Fyrenn adjusted his course ever so slightly, and Neyla followed suit. The red Gryphon allowed himself a long moment to sweep the gray noon horizon before speaking. "We need a medical facility. Considering the implants, we can't risk doing this procedure anywhere except a well equipped trauma bay, under the supervision of a professional doctor. But we also can't risk an interruption to the procedure." Fyrenn fixed his gaze on a silhouette at the very edge of his vision cone. The object was just coming over the curvature of the Earth. He grinned slightly as he continued, watching Neyla's expression turn from bemusement, to awe. "So we need a location so secure, that even the best of infiltrators have a hard time gaining access. A location they would be *afraid* to access. Or even approach." Neyla raised an eyebrow, and began shaking her head slowly. "This fits the criteria. I'll give you that. But you don't think this might be just a bit..." Fyrenn chuckled, and returned his gaze to the object, which was clearly identifiable as a ship to Gryphon eyes. Neyla sighed, and continued shaking her head. "Ah. Yes. Subtlety is not your style." April leaned down against Neyla's neck, and squinted, holding one hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out some light and resolve the image. "What is it? Is it a boat?" Fyrenn's smile widened, and he inclined his head slightly. "Not *precisely* a boat, no..." April's face twisted into a puzzled glare as she kept her eyes riveted to the spot where the object sat. As the distance gradually eroded under the swift impetus of the Gryphons' wings, the gray and black shape resolved itself into something that even Human eyes could identify. April's mouth fell open, and her face went taught with awe and shock. Neyla smirked, and let out a low whistle. Fyrenn gestured with one claw, and continued to smirk. "Not a boat. A Battleship." The vessel's features were readily visible, even to April, as the group closed to within a mile of the immense ship. The craft was underway at a reduced patrol speed, kicking up a long wake of white foam behind it as it cut through the sea like some sort of medieval bladed weapon. The hull was designed after a massive trimaran, with two outer hulls connected to a much larger inner tumblehome design by struts above, and below the water. Three vast turrets, each mounting three wicked looking A-RAC assault railgun barrels, defined the skyline of the fore and rear decks. The center of the ship was mostly taken up with a tall, angular, heavily armored island structure. Doors for a rear VTOL pad, and fighter craft retrieval peeked out from the fear, and a pair of aircraft launch tubes provided blood-channel like depressions port and starboard on the forward hull. The entire monstrosity was painted in three-tone gray dazzle camouflage patterns, broken only by a stark white '55' on the forward hull. Fyrenn chuckled, and swept the sleeping giant with his eyes. "FBB Fifty Five. UES North Carolina. Wake Island Class Battleship displacing eighty two thousand tons loaded. One thousand and seven hundred crew members counting embarked pilots and special task force marines. Nine identical five hundred millimeter tactical assault railguns with a muzzle velocity of Mach seventeen. Shell mass of twenty five tons. Each." The red Gryphon shrugged, and pointed with an index talon. "Not to mention the two Helios guns fore and aft: Turbine driven eight barrel repeating rail-saws with a half-ton slug weight, delivering two hundred rounds per second. Plus eight six inch gimbal guns, fifty VLS missile tubes, and three centerline torpedo launch tubes; Two fore, one aft." Neyla shook her head once more, and snorted. "Have you memorized the specification for *every* piece of naval hardware floating?" Fyrenn shrugged, and sighed. "I'm only three quarters through the current technical manuals." There was a protracted pause, during which April and Neyla both stared slack-jawed at the red Gryphon. At last, he raised an eyebrow. "What? I had to read something for the past three years. I figured it might as well be something useful, considering my future career is likely weapon and armor smithing. Every wise artist studies the greats." Fyrenn reached up to his helmet, and tapped the microphone control. "North Carolina; This is JRSF Gamma One Six Four, notifying you of arrival from stern starboard quarter." There was a short pause as the ship's tracking officer established a connection, and verified Fyrenn's callsign code. "Understood One Six Four. Proceed to aft island level five catwalk for reception." April shook her head, and exhaled slowly as the two Gryphons swooped in towards the side of the vessel. "Wooow... It's *beautiful.*" Fyrenn smiled, and nodded. "Yes, and heavily armored. Not to mention highly sophisticated machine shops and medical facilities, which will suit our purposes well." The group alit with a soft clank on the specified catwalk, and were immediately greeted by the sight of an Ensign making his way out of the nearest hatch. The man dashed up a ladder, fired a quick salute, then shouted at Fyrenn to make himself heard over the thrum of the engine, and the roar of the spray and wind. "SIR! We don't have you on the day's arrival manifest! The Captain wants to have a word!" Fyrenn nodded, and gestured with one claw towards the nearest bulkhead access. "Lead the way." "Of all the possible places... You brought your mess to *my* ship." The bridge remained at a subdued volume for an uncomfortable moment. The crew kept their eyes firmly fixed on their stations. The air resonated softly with the combination of distant engine thrum, the white noise of the air vents, and the occasional flick of a switch or trill of a console. April realized that the Captain's use of the word 'mess' encompassed her person along with Fyrenn's actions, and she scowled slightly. Neyla noticed the reaction, and placed the edge of her wing around the child. When Fyrenn spoke, his tone was dangerously devoid of emotion. "Captain Orik, I have to ask you to mind your phrasing around April. The situation is problematic, absolutely. But that isn't her fault. And she doesn't deserve to keep suffering because someone found a clever way to twist a law." The Captain squinted, pinched the bridge of his nose, and exhaled slowly. "Isaac... Or do you go by something else now?" Fyrenn inclined his head. "I will gladly go by either, though my primary name is now Fyrenn." Orik sighed, and held up a hand. "Fyrenn, then. It is one thing for you to ask me to offer medical assistance to someone in distress. I'm not even beyond breaking a few rules to grant a minor asylum. But I've been apprised of recent security dispatches." The Captain locked eyes with the red Gryphon, and leveled one index finger firmly. "This mess may not be her fault, but you sure as hell contributed to it. You severely injured a fellow soldier this morning, you threatened the life of a seated Councilor, you've stolen a Schedule-0 substance... And you want me to let you use my ship to commit an illegal Conversion?" Orik paused, then threw up his hands. "Would you even leave now? If I asked you, let alone ordered you? Or would you stave my skull in too?! We called you 'Trigger' for a damn good reason, the way I see it." Fyrenn kept an unblinking, smoldering gaze fixed on Orik, until the man was forced to look away. Only then did the Gryphon speak. "I served under you for three years. And the Indy was a much smaller ship. You know me, and you know I'll turn right around and go somewhere else if you ask, albeit with protest. For your sake. But I'm asking you, for *her* sake..." The red Gryphon jabbed an index talon fiercely in April's direction. "Please. Give us the help, and the facilities we need to save her." Another protracted silence ensued. Orik glanced to the side, doing his best not to make eye contact with April, Neyla, or Fyrenn. The latter finally split the calm with a window-rattling shout, that instantly drew the fearful attention of every crew member on the bridge. "LOOK AT HER! You look at what they did to this child, how they drilled into her SKULL, and laid open her SPINE! You ask her how they killed her sister! Who it is that is giving the orders! What they WILL do to her if these implants stay in her! You look her IN THE EYES when you deliver your refusal, or so help me I will MAKE you." Orik finally turned, and settled his gaze on April. The girl stared back, her face fixed in a firm scowl. At last, the Captain sighed, running one hand reflexively across his quarter-inch thin military-cut hair. "I'll permit this... Insanity. For two reasons. First; You're right about one thing. This girl has endured enough for one Human lifespan. I think you're paranoid, and you've enfolded half the government into your little conspiracy theory, but the fact is, this child has been most seriously abused. And second... If I ask you to leave, I'll be putting more innocent soldiers at risk." Fyrenn nodded, and turned to the chamber's rear hatch, expanding a protective wing to shepherd April and Neyla along. Orik raised a hand, and inclined his head. "I want to make it clear to you Lieutenant... Inasmuch as I respect your good service under my command, and after, especially your most recent actions in Vancouver... I will not stand by if you do any harm to a member of my crew. And I want you off my ship the moment you're finished." The red Gryphon nodded curtly, his tail swishing reflexively as he subsumed his riled spirit, gritting his beak tightly. "So noted." "Alright little one, this won't hurt at all. Just shut your eyes for me and... There we go! Not too bad huh?" April smiled slightly, and shook her head. The Doctor stepped away from the biobed, and loaded the newly filled syringe into an upright piece of equipment. Fyrenn glanced at the central display, and tilted his head. "Forgive me Dr. Chandler, but why put her blood into a tomographic analysis chamber?" The woman leaned in towards the screen, squinting to make out the myriad numbers and charts filling the panel. She spoke absently as she brushed away a stray wisp of her short auburn hair. "Because you said she had an aggressive parasitic nanoparticulate agent in her bloodstream. If you want to put Potion into that mix, I think it would be best if we had a baseline understanding of what happens when the two conflicting groups of nanites meet." Doctor Chandler rose, and extended a hand fearlessly. "So. I'll need just a few drops of your stolen goods." There was an awkward silence, before Chandler laughed and waggled her fingers. "Oh don't be so serious. There's going to be plenty of time for that later. I'm aware of the Captain's objections to this, and I'll have you know that I don't share them. So come along now." Fyrenn nodded, and silently produced the potion cylinder from his satchel. Chandler reverently took the object, setting it on the work table carefully before withdrawing a few drops of the golden liquid into a hardened syringe. "Right then. Let's have a gander shall we..." The Doctor swiftly dispensed the liquid into the imaging scanner, allowing it to mix with an equal amount of April's blood. For the first tiny fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then the screen exploded with data, most of it encoded in red or yellow tones that did little to ease Fyrenn and Neyla's concerns. Chandler hissed, and sat back in her chair. "That's not good news." The woman gestured for Fyrenn and Neyla to come look at the information, gesticulating in an animated fashion as she did her best to translate the readouts into lay terms. "The stuff in her body is mostly comprised of military grade hardware. Now, normally Potion can overpower virtually anything, including military attack nanites... And that's true here as well. The difference is, these are part of her. The Potion can't, and won't, convert the technological objects, so it attacks and destroys them. And it would probably take ninety percent of her cells along with them." Neyla narrowed her eyes, and shook her head slowly. "Are there any options, in your professional opinion, for separating the nanites from her cells?" Chandler sat silently, tapping one finger on her lip as she considered her response carefully. Finally, she nodded, and sighed. "There are several chemical concoctions that can temporarily separate nanites from cells and leave them free-floating. But, and I stress that conjunction... In this case that would be obscenely dangerous. These devices are likely programmed to do anything and everything necessary to protect their status quo, and failing that? They'll likely do their best rendition of a lunatic jihadist." Fyrenn glowered at the screen, and hissed softly. "They'd eat her alive just to prevent their own removal." Chandler nodded, and inclined her head slightly. "Oh that's not even the best bit. To give her any chance of surviving the procedure, you'd also have to allow me to surgically cut away ninety percent of her spinal and cranial implants before the change." The Doctor winced reflexively, and steepled her hands as she carefully re-examined the data on the imaging scanner. "That's a five to nine hour procedure. And we would have to begin the nano-separation and damping process first. That means she would be in absolutely critical condition by the time the serum is injected. There's no guarantee her body can withstand those types of stresses in that span of time. And even then, there's no guarantee we can keep the nanites at-bay long enough for the serum to destroy them and expel the excess matter." "I want to try." April's voice brought a sudden pause to the conversation. Chandler, and the Gryphons, turned slowly to fix their eyes on the child. April sat on the biobed, legs clutched to her chest, eyes riveted to the display screen. "I want to be free. One way or the other." Doctor Chandler licked her lips nervously, and rose from her chair, kneeling in front of April and taking the girl's hands in hers. "April... You're not even old enough to make this kind of decision, from a legal standpoint at any rate. This is very serious. The chances of you surviving are dangerously, incredibly, indescribably slim. One in three hundred at best." April leaned down, and a familiar sad smile darted across her face. Fyrenn again found himself verging on tears as he thought about the vast discrepancy between her biological age, and her maturity. "One in three hundred is better than zero. I would rather go where my sister went, than go on like this anymore. Freedom of any kind is better than my chances if I have to stay this way." Doctor Chandler's eyes welled up with a small flood of tears, that threatened to stream down her face and ruin her professional air at any moment. She bit her lip, and nodded, squeezing April's hands firmly before rising. "I need about half an hour to do final number crunching, prep equipment, get scrubbed, and brief my nurses. The best thing you can do is hydrate her, and calm her. But no solid foods." Both Gryphons nodded, and Fyrenn scooped up April into a carry position on his back. "Thank you doctor." Chandler shook her head, wiping furtively at both eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat. "Don't thank me. Not for something like this. Not unless, by some miracle, it works." "Are you sure about this?" Fyrenn finally decided that the silence had gone on long enough. His words hung in the air like the spray from the ship's bow, dispersing into a fine mist that covered the body in a hazy film. April spoke without turning, her eyes fixed firmly on the blue sky beyond the Barrier, seemingly so close, yet somehow so very far away. "As sure as I have ever been about anything. No question." The red Gryphon sighed, and shifted, uncrossing his forelegs and then re-crossing them. His perch on the starboard lookout wing offered him a stunning view of sky and sea for miles in every direction. April seemed equally entranced, leaning back into the crook of his shoulder and propping her shoes up against the railing as the breeze toyed with her hair. Fyrenn sighed, and scratched the back of his head absently as he struggled to find words he felt would have the right impact. "One in three hundred is long odds April. You're alive right now, and you can stay that way for the foreseeable future. Are you really prepared to leave all this behind? I'm not sure I could handle losing you at this point..." The girl shook her head, and wrapped one arm comfortingly around Fyrenn's neck. "I'm not afraid to fight. I've lived a fighter's life since I was born. I'm not sure I even want that to change. But I've also been something else, ever since I could remember. A slave. *That* I can't go on doing. I'm not afraid to die either. And you should know better than to think that I'm any more invincible than you are you big red bean bag." Fyrenn snorted, and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side to make eye contact. "Did Stan teach you that one?" She grinned and shook her head. "Skye did. She also told me that you have real trouble with trust." The red Gryphon sighed, and shook his head slowly. "No argument there. But you should take everything 'Auntie Skye' and 'Uncle Stan' say with a grain of salt. They think they can fix decades of bad memories and fears with a wave of a hoof and a few strong words." April shrugged, and nestled down into Fyrenn's feathers as she murmured her response. "We all have to start somehow don't we?" Another lull in the conversation followed. The pair sat contentedly, watching the clouds form, move, and dissolve as they passed across the achingly blue canvass of Equestria's sky. The humidity was low, and it was late in the afternoon. The combination lent the atmosphere a gilt quality, and incredibly sharp clarity. Fyrenn privately wished he could ferry April across right then, if only to give her the guaranteed chance to experience fresh sea wind, tinged with the scent of palms and coconut. Neyla arrived in relative silence, with large mugs of steaming coffee for herself and Fyrenn, and an enormous glass of water for April. The Gryphoness flopped down directly alongside Fyrenn, cozying up as close as she could and allowing April to shift, splitting her weight between the two Gryphons. Fyrenn briefly considered protesting, but instantly clamped his beak shut. He realized that the moment was precious, in a sublime way. He wanted to put his fears and concerns, bitterness and worry, aside. If only for a moment. He wanted to take solace in the way the moment represented a future, if only a barely-possible one. Neyla and April seemed perfectly content to do the same, and the remaining fifteen minutes passed like a blur. Thought fell away into emotion, and anxiousness into the sensations of the moment. Warm feathers, soft breathing, a stiff breeze, and the ever-present thrum of the engines. The flow was, however, finally shattered by the crackle of the ship's intercom. "Lieutenant Commander Wrenn, and party, to the Medical bay. Lieutenant Commander Wrenn, please report to the medical bay with guests." The medical bay was completely dim, except for a pool of intensely bright directionless light focused on a single surgical bed. Surrounding the object was an immense bevy of medical instruments contained on carts or suspended on armatures connected to a ring in the ceiling. Doctor Chandler stood flanked by two nurses, all clad in fully biophobic scrubs, gloves, and masks. The material glistened with a faint teal hexagonal pattern as it shifted and caught the light. The Doctor gestured to the biobed, and Fyrenn set April down carefully, face turned towards the floor. The supply cabinet had yielded a set of medical gowns, and Fyrenn had carefully cut one to size. Neyla had helped April into the coarse blue fabric, and cut a slit from her neck to her navel, to afford access to her spinal implant. Chandler knelt beside April, and pulled down one of the medical instruments from the vertical armatures. The device looked like a clear glass cradle, shaped to fit around a head. "The nanites will resist sedatives. So I have to place you in an electromagnetically induced coma before we begin. It will feel like going to sleep, so just breathe normally, close your eyes, and let everything slip away." April glanced up at Fyrenn, and blinked nervously. "Will I dream? Like everyone else?" Fyrenn smiled, forcing his tears to remain in check until he could turn away. "Absolutely. It will be the most wonderful sleep you've ever had." April nodded, and exhaled slowly. "I'm ready." Doctor Chandler nodded, and gently affixed the cradle to April's head, closing it until it had just enough tension to remain connected. The device whirred to life, emitting a soft blue-green light from within the glass itself. Almost instantly, April's eyes closed, and her breathing slowed. Fyrenn watched the holographic data suspended behind her, as her heart rate and EEG began to reflect deep REM sleep patterns. Chandler glanced between the two Gryphons, and gestured to the door. "You two... May not want to watch this. It's going to be very unpleasant." Both Gryphons remained silently fixated on April, and the Doctor shrugged. "Suit yourselves." As she turned to the first tray of instruments, Fyrenn finally allowed his tears free reign. Only after chancing a glance in Neyla's direction did he realize she was also silently, motionlessly weeping. The Doctor gestured to an enormous IV-Drip cylinder. "Inject the separating agent. Start with about five CCs and move on up to eleven per minute by twos every minute." One of the nurses nodded, and swiftly set about swabbing a location beside April's carotid, where maximum blood flow would be afforded to the needle. With the machine set, and the needle implanted and clamped, the man flicked the activation switch. April's vitals went wild instantly, and her body began to convulse aggressively. Chandler swooped down on her cabinet of syringes, not even bothering to waste time on voicing orders. Without being asked, Fyrenn and Neyla darted forward, and helped the nurses clamp April's sides, ankles, wrists, and neck into place with steel fins, coated internally with a skin-soothing gel. Chandler bent over the IV cylinder, and released an enormous dosage of a dull orange substance into the mix, twisting the delivery-proportions settings up to their physical maximum. For a few seconds, April's convulsions worsened. Then, gradually but steadily, her vital signs began to normalize to a survivable range, if only barely. Fyrenn winced as he noted that her internal temperature had spiked to nearly one hundred and four degrees. Chandler gestured to a small box with two cylinders recessed into it, as the Gryphons stepped back into the shadows. "Set up the intermixer to throughput a pint of blood every fifteen minutes. Put the cooling setting on seventy five percent, and use the electrified stints to weed out as many of the nanites as we can." One of the nurses began setting up another pair of clamped needles, while the other stood ready to hand Chandler instruments, and utilize the sweat-cloth. The Doctor exhaled sharply, readjusted her gloves, and pointed to April's hair. "Shaver." In a matter of moments, the Doctor had efficiently lopped off every last one of April's locks, while one of the nurses dutifully vacuumed up the biological detritus to avoid complications later in the operation. As soon as Chandler was finished, she removed her gloves, discarded them in a one-way-pressurized waste bin, and pulled on a new pair. She paused to bring her breathing under control, then held out a hand. "Plasma cutter." Councilor Loryss sighed, and straightened her jacket as her chauffeur closed the rear door of the sedan. While the man made his way to the front seat, under the watchful eye of her interim protection agent, she depressed the console key to raise the soundproof glass between her compartment, and the front of the car. As the vehicle peeled away from the curb, into the Manhattan dusk, she carefully removed her secure DaTab from her purse, and opened a familiar communication line. "Admiral. Status?" The male voice on the opposite end of the call was gruff, businesslike, and had good enunciation. Loryss always appreciated the man's talent for candor. "Ma'am. We're nearly ready for our first full combat trials. The last of the warheads were loaded just about half an hour ago, and my chief engineer says the fusion plant has passed all final marks." Loryss nodded firmly, and pursed her lips as she spoke. "There has been a change in plans. I will be sending you a combat contingent, and two Earthgov legal executors. They will provide coordinates for your first mission. You will ferry them to the location, and provide fire support as necessary." "Fire support ma'am?" The Councilor nodded firmly, despite the fact that the connection was voice-only due to the level of encryption being used. "If the team is unsuccessful in their mission, the provided objectives packet will instruct you on appropriate 'disposal measures.' Are we clear?" "Yes Ma'am. Agincourt will get the job done. Any way you slice it." Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) April 2nd, Gregorian Calendar Fyrenn ducked to avoid a splitting headache as he made his way into the medical bay, carafes of tea clamped firmly in either claw. He passed one to Neyla, and stared long and hard at April's prone form as he took his first draught. "They were out of coffee for tonight. Apparently they ration it fairly strictly. This will have to do." Neyla nodded, and grunted as she took a scalding massive gulp from her impromptu tankard. "Nothing has changed while you were gone. Chandler had to take another breather... I fear the length of this process is starting to take a serious toll." Fyrenn inclined his head, and sighed. "If she pulls this off, there is absolutely no way I can conceive of to repay her." Neyla shook her head, and began pacing slowly. "She would say that seeing April survive would be repayment enough. If she were not honorable, she would never have consented to this." Fyrenn inclined his head, and took another long draught of his tea. "True enough." He shook his head slowly as Chandler began to whittle away at April's spinal implant once more. In the ten hours since the procedure had begun, Chandler had been forced to stop eleven times to hydrate and rest, had paused to remove the cranial implants, and had been forced to step down from a plasma cutter to a tiny diamond-tipped saw. As sparks flew from the edge of the device, Fyrenn said his thousandth fervent prayer that the cutting phase would be over soon. Though April's internal temperature had stabilized to a more manageable one hundred, her cognitive activity had steadily begun to decline. Chandler speculated that the nanites were starting to physically damage her brain. She had privately informed Fyrenn that if the levels dropped low enough, even the Conversion process itself might not bring April out of her coma. And that was assuming she survived the physical trauma. Fyrenn suspected, given Neyla's mood, that she had overheard the conversation. He gestured with one claw as a new series of sparks flew, while Chandler forced the diamond saw deeper into the titanium casing of the implant. "You know she thinks of you as a mother." Neyla nodded silently, looking as if she might be verging on further tears. Fyrenn moved to stand alongside her, and did his best to offer up a tiny sliver of a cold half-smile. "Had you ever wanted fledglings? Before this?" Neyla sniffed, and waggled a claw. "Yes, and no. The young are a marvelous blessing. And I have always felt that I'd want fledglings someday... But I suppose we're alike, in that the idea of a mate always seemed so far removed." Fyrenn sighed, and nodded. "I can't begin to apologize enough for my part in that." Neyla raised an eyebrow. "You could, but that would require you to do something far outside your current comfort zone. Still, I have my dreams, and I won't be so easily parted from them." Fyrenn inclined his head and snorted softly. "Well, we all seem to be in the business of miracles these days. 'Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.' " Neyla tilted her head in curiosity, and Fyrenn offered up another sliver of a smile as he explained. "Lewis. Brilliant author. Though I think even he would be astounded to see the things we see every day..." The Gryphoness sighed, and leaned against Fyrenn's side. "As miracles may go, this one seems like a difficult task. Not every part of the plan can be a miraculous escape." Chandler sighed as she crossed the room, yanking off her mask and wiping away a veritable downpour of sweat from her forehead. "No, but as this particular miracle goes, it looks like one hurdle is past. I was able to cut out ninety percent of the cortical nodes, and seventy five percent of the spinal implant. If you ever find the people who did this? I want you to wring their necks for me. Wring 'em damn good. This device is absolutely barbaric in every measurable sense. I had to slice within a nanometer of her spinal nerve cluster to get some of those spicules out." Fyrenn nodded towards the potion. "So it's time?" Chandler shook her head. "As much as I want to say 'Do it as fast as we can,' her physical survivability chances will double if we wait fifteen minutes before administering." Neyla jerked her head towards the EEG readout. "And the damage to her mind?" Chandler exhaled in exhaustion and frustration, her gaze falling to the floor. "I won't lie. That damage may already be utterly irreparable. We... Just don't know enough about how potion works with the brain and, well for lack of better terminology, the soul. I've heard stories of it curing Alzheimer's patients in ways that are frankly impossible, if you subscribe to the idea that a person's identity and self is wholly attached to their brain tissue." The Doctor shook her head and blinked "And I've also heard stories of it making someone, otherwise healthy, into a vegetable due to a tiny inoperable benign tumor that wasn't caught beforehand. There's still a strong risk her body will dissolve under stress, but the real killer now is going to be the battle going on in here." Chandler tapped her forehead, and sighed once more. "I'm going to go find something cold and nutritious to drink, use the head, and try to stop shaking. We'll meet back here in fifteen for the administering process." "I hear it's going as well as could have been expected." Fyrenn kept his eyes on the tea maker, recognizing Orik's voice without any need for visual confirmation. The man stepped up to the break room table and began pouring himself a cup of the steaming drink as well. He snorted as he glanced up at Fyrenn, and shook his head. "You want to explain to me how your six foot eleven, two-forty pound former CO has to look *up* at you now?" The red Gryphon sighed, and swiveled his head to the left to meet the man's eyes. "I guess I just grew out of my awkward Human phase." Orik smiled wanly, and sighed, taking a sip of his brew before replying. "Funny. Nice to see your sense of humor is about the same as it was." Fyrenn sat back on his haunches, bringing his eyes closer to Orik's level, and took a long sip of his own before speaking again. "So what will you do when they find out we were here?" The Captain shrugged, and leaned against the bulkhead, blowing the steam from the top of his mug between words. "I'll tell them the truth, and nothing but the truth. That I felt I had little choice, for a multitude of both moral, logistical, and safety reasons." His eyes flashed upwards to meet Fyrenn's gaze, a sudden glint of iron tinging his expression as he put voice to a pointed query. "What about you? They'll probably revoke your citizenship. Demote you. Dishonorable discharge to boot." Fyrenn snorted, and massaged the sides of his carafe, giving himself a moment to sort out his feeling before speaking. "You know? I used to think that maybe I would spend more time on Earth, than in Equestria. Keep my commission right up until the end. Keep a claw in the soup. Fight the 'good fight.' Maybe even stick with special ops." Orik raised an eyebrow, and indulged in a long, slow draught as the red Gryphon continued, a harder edge creeping into his tone as he shifted his gaze to one of the mess hall's portholes. "I gave more than I can easily put into words for this planet. I did it because I wanted to save lives, and make the future better. Nothing more or less complicated than that... But it turns out that simple goals have long and winding roads. I've watched the same people I fought and bled for defy all common sense, and good moral standing, time and again. And the ones who were supposed to watch out for us? To lead by example? To bring the common sense to the masses? To keep people like you and me in check, and to make the right calls in the tough spots?" Fyrenn narrowed his eyes, and snapped his gaze back to Orik as he finished the thought. He casually noted the changes in the man's blood pressure, skin tension, and general bearing. Automatic fight or flight responses triggered by the angry gaze of a much larger, sharper, faster creature. "Those leaders are the same people who pulled the trigger on millions of their own people. How else did the HLF get access to the assets, codes, schedules, and systems they needed to pull a stunt like Vancouver? These 'leaders' of ours... People I risked my life to save not that long ago, are sanctioning child soldiers. Juvenile cybernetic experimentation. State-sponsored terror cells." Orik inclined his head, and averted his eyes, "Fyrenn... We live in a complicated world. Old fashioned ideals and hardline morals don't feed billions of people on a dying planet." Fyrenn's gaze hardened further, and he slammed the carafe down on the steel countertop, hard enough to leave a substantial dent. "Ah, yes. And brutalizing children, funding pro-Human Nazis, assassinating dissenting leaders, pushing through a Conversion program that enslaved people to Troll packs, trying to tax people for fleeing a natural disaster, legislating people's private love lives to try to force them to Convert... That has done *such* a bang-up job of ending poverty, homelessness, forced displacement, violence, and desperation. Bra-fucking-vo. The Human race is saved. All hail the glorious savior Earthgov." The Captain set down his own mug with surprising force, and his face scrunched into an angry leer. "That's treasonous propagandist bullshit, and you know it. Earthgov built this planet back after the Winnowing, and who do you think holds that all together at the end of the day? Sure as hell isn't crusaders like you. It is people who can see the difference between what serves some high and mighty sense of justice, and the right calls. The ones that keep the gears greased, and the world spinning." Fyrenn hissed. The sound brought Orik up short, even more so as it devolved into a sickly rustling sardonic laugh. "You know, I used to be just that stupid. Hell, I almost died to save a man whose value to society is probably a net negative, over an issue that he and I were both dead wrong about. You know what I figured out, somewhere between the Conversion table, and today? If Humanity is so hot-damn awesome and incredible, and our neoliberal neocapitalist imperial one-world state is so glitter-pissing amazing, how come a third of Humans live below the poverty line? How come we have homelessness in a post-singularity world where we can produce enough food, housing, medicine, and basic goods and services to accommodate the transient visiting population of another whole-ass universe?" Fyrenn rose to his hind legs, snatched up the tea carafe, and crossed the mess hall to the aft exit hatch in glowering silence. Orik stood rooted to the spot, unable to fully process the adrenaline response born of Fyrenn's tirade. The red Gryphon tossed a final word over one shoulder as he ducked through the hatch. "Did you ever once question the orders we were given? The specific lives we were taking? Did you ever stop to think that the HLF and the PER wouldn't even exist if there weren't people in the world who we hurt so badly, who felt so disowned and disinvited from the conversation just for having a different viewpoint, that they felt the risks of going up against a fifty trillion dollar military were worth it to salvage their sad, gray, purposeless lives? The hard truth is this, Orik; We were nothing but a cattle prod to keep the masses in-line. I don't do oppression for a career anymore." "Moment of truth." Chandler raised an eyebrow, and offered the syringe to Fyrenn. "It's simple. If you want to do the honors. Just place the applicator right beside her carotid, in the neck, and depress the button." Fyrenn nodded, and lowered his head, closing his eyes. Neyla did the same. It took Chandler several awkward moments to realize that the Gryphons were praying, before she abruptly yanked off her surgical cap in embarrassment. At last, Fyrenn looked up, and carefully seated the hypo-spray in the correct position. "Hang on. Just for a little while longer. Hang on tight." With a sudden, and slightly anticlimactic hiss, the golden fluid disappeared into the girl's veins. Fyrenn withdrew the medical instrument, and took a step back. April's restraints had been removed, and her biobed reconfigured to fit the potential changes about to engulf her body. A variety of medical instruments stood ready. Some to help suck away the remains of the implants and nanites, others to potentially clean up the horrendous mess of a Conversion gone wrong. Fyrenn realized, with a jolt, that this would be the first time he, or Neyla, had ever watched a Gryphonization occur. He had, like all Converts, been unconscious for his own procedure, and Neyla had not known him at the time. Even if she had, people rarely decided to willingly watch the process. It was considered to be both highly private, and incredibly unsettling. Sildinar and Kephic had been closest to Fyrenn, and they had been separated from him by a wall at the time. At first nothing seemed to be happening. In spite of the fact that Chandler had given April a dose nearly three times as potent as the normal small white cup of fluid, that didn't seem to cause faster onset. Gradually, however, Fyrenn began to notice flecks of golden light racing up and down April's veins. The patterns began to spread, and to glow more and more brightly, eventually setting April's entire skin alight with dancing patterns like fire. As Fyrenn and Neyla watched, prayed, and willed the process to go smoothly, April's body began to change in more extreme ways. Initially Fyrenn found himself resisting a strong urge to look away. The melting effect reminded him too much of Sonya's fate for his liking. April's form gradually, but steadily, dissolved away into something more akin to a glowing mass of biomatter, constrained by a sparking aura of orange and yellow aurorae. As the last of her definable Human features slipped away, the mass began to grow, drawing new matter from the immense energy compacted into the potion for just that purpose. At the very moment it seemed April would be reduced to a formless blob, the process shifted violently. Arcs of golden energy shot out from the central mass, forming the ethereal shapes of a body. Legs. Wings. A head, and a tail. As Fyrenn watched, transfixed and now utterly unable to look aside, or even blink, the process apexed towards its inevitable conclusion. Sprays of fine gray matter began to pour away from the energy field, and as one of the Nurses began to vacuum away the debris before it could fall back, Fyrenn realized it was the last remains of the nanites and implants, reduced to pure base carbon dust and violently ejected. As the biomatter finally took shape, details began to emerge swiftly. With an unexpected snap, and a series of electrical arcs so bright Chandler and the nurses were forced to look to the side, the process reached an end. Where once had lain a viscous shape with barely-emerging features, now lay a living, breathing, whole being. At first, the shock of taking in the sight left Fyrenn unable to move or speak. April's form was sleek, and beautiful, yet retained hints of her young age in the structure of her head, and the preponderance of inner fledgling downy feathers that lent her a slightly softer quality than a fully grown member of the species. Many of her markings were a shade of red not dissimilar to Fyrenn's autumnal burgundy shades. They seemed the tiniest bit more orange to his eye. The color covered the top of her head, comprised some cheek markings, and ran down her back and sides, and over the majority of her wings. The outer edge of her wings was given over to a blue shade that was very much like Neyla's primary color. The rest of the fledgling's body was covered in a light shade of tan that looked as if it might be related to Neyla's, but Fyrenn detected as many red and brown undertones as white and gray. At last, he finally managed words. "She looks... Like... Us?" Chandler nodded. "I thought you knew? Because of the way your species reproduces, genetic information gets passed from nearby members of your kind to new converts during the process, based on the type and strength of the bond between the subject and the observers." There was a long pause, which the Doctor broke by exhaling, and ultimately opting to resort to simpler terms. "She is, judging by her markings, essentially genetically descended from both of you, for the most part. Her own discarded Human genes also played some role in forming the new ones, as always." Fyrenn was, yet again, grateful for his red facial covering. He could see Neyla blushing furiously, and knew that he was likely just as red underneath his cheek feathers. The emotion passed swiftly however, as the two older Gryphons stepped up to the biobed, and examined April more closely. Biologically, she seemed to be in perfect health. Her feathers were clean and straight, her talons sharp and perfectly formed, and her beak pristine. Her life signs on the holographic display indicated a normal pulse, respiration, blood pressure, and temperature for an adolescent female Gryphon, in peak healthy condition. The EEG however seemed unable to fixate in any meaningful way on a useful reading. Fyrenn knew that was likely a product of Gryphons' complex tachyonic nervous system. What truly concerned him was the fact that April had neither stirred, nor shown any signs of cogence, in almost a minute and a half. He reached down, and gently shook one of the fledgling's newly minted shoulders, but there was no response, not even a reflex. He glanced up to Doctor Chandler, but the woman merely shook her head slowly. "Honestly, I can't say what comes next. Obviously this isn't a conventional Conversion, so there is no context for me to make a judgement call. The best I can do is say that you may as well give it a few hours." Fyrenn winced, and sighed, as his stomach erupted into a familiar morasse of pain, fear, anger, frustration, and general anxiety. "So much for sleep."