Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
April 7th, Gregorian Calendar
"I don't want to hear any arguments on this! They need every sea-qualified officer here, and I'm fully proficient with a carbine!"
Lantry's brow furrowed as he worked to cinch down gray armored gauntlets on first his left wrist, then his right. The armory shook violently as an enemy missile struck the hull nearby. The General was forced to lean momentarily against Varan to avoid being thrown to the other end of the compartment.
The golden Gryphon helped set the man back on an even keel, then pressed a helmet firmly into his hands. Varan's response came with his usual dispassionate calm.
"We have no arguments to voice."
Kephic smirked as he checked the cartridge feed on his RAC, raising an eyebrow as he spoke.
"We do things differently. It is not only common, but essentially required, that our military leaders fight at the sharp point of the wedge."
From his position in the hatchway, Carradan let out a snort.
"You guys are all kinds of crazy though. I'm not sure anyone else should be emulating you."
Skye chuckled, and tossed her mane.
"They're too stubborn to die. That's how they get away with it."
Stan nodded, then narrowed his eyes, bracing himself reflexively with one wing as the ship rocked under fire once more.
"So... Where's your fourth man?"
The Pegasus brought his gaze to rest on Skye, who bore an expression equal parts apprehension, guilt, and determination.
Carradan groaned, and shook his head emphatically.
"Not you too! Geez sister... You're gonna leave me here all by my lonesome to ride this out? Haven't you already cheated ol' grim once? This is just pushing it... They don't even stock armor that'll fit you!"
Skye's horn lit up, and she gently accepted a kevlar harness-like structure from Varan, engulfing it in her ethereal grip. As she carefully stepped into the improvised system of cinches and clasps, Kephic deftly helped her attach small protective plates near the joint of her neck, her heart, and the most vulnerable portions of her sides.
Lantry bent down to hand the Unicorn a rail-pistol, which she telekinetically loaded, and holstered as she finally managed to phrase a response.
"This situation has a lot of nasty 'ifs' and 'maybes' in it. I think having a technical expert there to take some of those out of the equation gives everyone a better shot at getting out of this in one piece."
Skye paused, then swiftly pulled Stan into a quick hug with her neck, and front hooves. As the Pegasus fought back tears of anxiety, and confusion, the Unicorn smiled, and delivered a friendly punch to his side.
"I've been thrown out of a window, shot at by a cybernetic death-squad... And I've spent major chunks of the last three years living with the smell of your halitosis. If none of that killed me, then I'm not convinced this little excursion poses much of a risk."
Carradan sighed, and fought valiantly to contain his emotions. He did his best to stiffen his expression, and nodded slowly.
"Fine."
The Pegasus turned to direct a potent glare up at Kephic, then Lantry, and finally Varan in turn. Both Gryphons, and the General exchanged brief glanced with Stan as they passed out laser target designator attachments for their rifles, and fist-sized target acquisition beacons with similar functionality.
"You bring her back safe. Or else I will plaster you all to the bottom of this toy boat, and drag you from here to Tierra Del Fuego."
Kephic offered the Pegasus a melancholy smile as the group filed out of the armory, and laid a comforting claw on his back momentarily.
"That's the spirit. Hold down the 'toy boat,' and make sure they have something hot and delicious waiting for us when we get back. Incase you hadn't noticed, it's raining outside."
"I feel like I'm going to regret this decision!"
Skye had to shout to make herself heard as the port side water garage door fell away, allowing the auditory assault of the battle, and the weather, to enter unimpeded.
Kephic shook his head, and snorted. He carefully secured his RAC between his wings, then gestured for Lantry to stand in front of him. As he scooped the General into an underslung carry position, he raised an eyebrow.
"We're about to fly out into what amounts to a solid wall of debris, shrapnel, and weapons fire! You won't have time to regret anything if we slip up!"
Varan moved up behind the Unicorn, and pulled her into a similarly protected carry position with his front claws. As he spread his wings, and scanned the sight beyond the garage with his gaze, he allowed a response to rumble forth from his chest.
"He has such a comforting way with words, does he not?"
Before Skye could completely process the deadpan witticism, Varan brought his wings down and back with colossal force. The two Gryphons, with their precious cargo carefully secured, shot away from the side of the North Carolina with all the speed their muscles could produce.
Rain, wind, sound, and heat assailed all four members of the group as they passed through the outer layers of the battle. Skye lacked a helmet, and found herself forced to close her eyes against the deluge.
Lantry had headgear, but found himself reflexively closing his eyes regardless, as warheads and chaff bursts exploded only meters away to either side.
Kephic and Varan were considerably less hindered. Ears flattened to shut out the din, and eyes wide open thanks to adaptations designed to permit bad-weather flight, the two Gryphons swerved, rolled, and dived expertly to avoid being impaled by weapons fire.
Skye grit her teeth, and did her best to avoid the temptation to open her eyes. Lantry quickly focused the entirety of his concentration on breathing exercises, fighting to constrain a merciless bout of motion sickness.
Slowly, but steadily, the sound of the battle fell away to the rear. The moment the Gryphons were clear of the fire zone, they pulled into a tight one hundred and seventy degree turn, making a beeline for the best guess as to the platform's general direction.
The Unicorn blinked her eyes open briefly, and shouted up at Varan.
"NEXT TIME, I WANT A FREE UPGRADE! TO FIRST CLASS!"
"We are being pursued."
Neyla's tone was completely calm, though her expression betrayed a well controlled sense of urgency. Fyrenn cast a glance back over his shoulder, and caught sight of the telltale dull gray glint that had attracted the Gryphoness' attention.
He nodded, pulling the stick back to shed speed, trading it rapidly for altitude. As the SeaHawk was engulfed by an angry black thunderhead, he raised an eyebrow, and exhaled slowly.
"Lancets are small. Smaller than a Scythe by maybe fifteen percent, mass-wise, but equipped with a nearly identical power plant. They can match us for speed, and they have a major advantage in straight-line acceleration and climb rate. They're all but impossible to hit with guns for most pilots; Minimal profile from the front, rear, and sides. Excellent stealth angling. Powerful dually redundant ECM suites."
Neyla narrowed her eyes, and swiveled her head to the other side of the canopy to continue tracking the enemy as she spoke.
"They sound superior to other craft. Why are they so rarely used?"
Fyrenn leveled out gracefully, and pulled into a wide left bank turn.
"No range to speak of, whatsoever, unless they sacrifice all their missile hardpoints to drop tanks. They lack armoring, and their max payload weight limits their avionics package, and quality of ordinance. Totally unsuitable for attacking anything other than ships and other aircraft. Their gun caliber is half what ours is, and they only carry two thirds as much by way of ammo belts."
The red Gryphon glanced left, and glowered down at the swiftly rising shape of the enemy fighter as he finished the impromptu briefing.
"They're pack hunters. Best when they outnumber the enemy, and are fighting in the soup, with a support base nearby. Which is a pretty good description of the current mess we're in."
Neyla grunted, and flattened her ears.
"I can not locate the second one."
Fyrenn nodded, and made a small adjustment to the flaps settings.
"They drew straws, and the guy who lost gets to be the bait plane. He'll pull up, and in from the side making use of his superior climb power. Ping us with his gun, and pull above us, trying to bring us into a chase. When we engage, the second will come in from above and behind, Boom and zoom with a pair of missiles, and scratch one SeaHawk."
Neyla exhaled, and ruffled her wings slightly to put her shoulder joints at ease. When she spoke, her tone was firm and confident.
"So. When Lancet one pulls in from the side, you allow him to land glancing hits, and overshoot us. Pull right into a chase position. Hold long enough to fire the first salvo, then bank left sharply, transitioning into a full climb-loop. Brake hard as you exit to level, Lancet two will be in the killbox below and ahead of us, affording a large profile for a solid hit."
Fyrenn smiled, and chuckled, momentarily eyeing Neyla in the rear view mirrors.
"I love it when you speak my language. I'm routing cannons to your stick; You have about fifteen degrees of play in the gimbals, and you'll need every last bit, because this is going to get real complicated, real fast. Your guns."
The red Gryphon flicked two hat switches on his flight stick, and closed the cover over his fire trigger. Neyla nodded, and opened her trigger cover, placing her right index talon gently over the red plastic nub.
"My guns."
Neyla paused, then chuckled grimly.
"And you wanted to do this for a vocation?"
Fyrenn nodded, and reacquired eye contact with the enemy Lancet.
"Since the day I was born."
The Gryphoness smirked ever so slightly, and raised an eyebrow.
"You really were cut from Gryphic cloth."
The red Gryphon raised an eyebrow, and tensed his shoulders in preparation for maneuvers.
"So they keep telling me."
True to his predictions, the first Lancet came whizzing up through a wisp of cloud to the left side, rain droplets streaking off the edges of its wings into twin vortices of trailing gray distortion. The moment the craft was in range, a rapid series of flashes appeared under its nose.
Fyrenn carefully followed the incoming rounds, one by one, prepared to juke the SeaHawk if necessary, to prevent the shells from striking weakly armored, or critical areas of the jet.
The SeaHawk rattled, and shook ominously as rounds peppered portions of the left wing, and the front left intake. In a moment, the hail of incoming rounds ceased, and the Lancet whipped past overhead, pouring on its afterburners momentarily to give the pilot an edge in his head start.
Fyrenn pushed the nose down momentarily, and increased the throttle to one hundred percent abruptly, to compensate for the Lancet's jetwash. After a half second, he pulled back and right on the stick, simultaneously massaging the rudder pedals in the same direction.
"That's right..."
He murmured quietly as he worked to get a brief angle of fire on the first Lancet.
"Chase the birdie..."
Neyla pulled back on her trigger, carefully and precisely positioning her joystick to bring a brief burst of fire to bear on the Lancet. As soon as the volley was away, Fyrenn brought his flight stick back and left.
As the red Gryphon pushed down on the left side pedal, he pushed the throttle into the afterburn position to gain climb rate. The SeaHawk rocketed through an incredibly tight loop, and the G-meter shot into the mid forties. As the craft came down, around, and began to level, Fyrenn allowed the throttle to fall back automatically from the afterburn slot.
When the fighter came fully level, he rammed his left thumb talon down on the spoilers, and dipped the nose. True to Neyla's prediction, the second Lancet was just below, and ahead of the SeaHawk.
Fyrenn pushed the stick down further and pulled left into a partial roll. The Lancet pilot quickly realized he was in trouble. Neyla's first barrage nearly sheared off his vertical stabilizer. Smoke erupted from the enemy fighter's right engine as secondary shrapnel damage triggered an internal fire.
The Lancet broke hard to the right. As the pilot panicked, he threw fuel conservation to the wind, and pushed hard on his left afterburner. The right engine shut off automatically and flooded the turbine with fire suppressant foam.
Neyla relentlessly continued to follow the enemy craft with her gun track. Fyrenn rolled right sharply, and began doing his best to keep the Lancet within the range of the SeaHawk's weapon gimbals, once again murmuring to himself.
"Well now it's officially a party."
"What do you suppose the chances are they're expecting us?!"
Skye glanced up at her carrier with a barely restrained expression of concern. Varan focused his eyes on the closest edge of the platform, and made note of the tracking turret emplacements, which were already revolving into active position.
"Non-zero."
Before the words had even left Varan's beak, the sky erupted in flames. Streams of tracer rounds streaked out from the edge of the platform, desperately whipping back and forth through the rain in an attempt to acquire the Gryphons.
The golden Gryphon pulled Skye closer to his chest, and tucked into a dizzying roll, while his brother pulled up and away to the right.
For a moment, it seemed like the platform's new armaments would fall short of their task. Kephic and Varan seemed to be yards ahead of the tracers, no matter how frantically the fire control computers juked the turrets.
The situation changed radically as a dozen Augments appeared from behind the larger gun emplacements. The moment the Gryphons were within rifle range, the troopers unleashed a devastating secondary hail of rounds.
The Augments maintained incredibly precise attack trajectories. Alone, either source of fire would have presented a significant challenge, given the sheer volume of bullets. Together, they represented a lethal threat.
The troopers carefully coordinated their shots with changes in the turret tracks, filling in gaps in the killbox at the last possible moment, to give the Gryphons as little time to compensate as physically possible.
Kephic's task was made marginally easier by Lantry's armor plating. The presence of the protective material meant that the speckled Gryphon could afford to allow occasional glancing hits from the carbines, as part of maneuvers to avoid straight shots from the turret emplacements.
Varan had no such advantage. Skye's improvised protective gear had a multitude of weak spots, and even a glancing blow from a RAC round in the wrong spot could leave her with a severe, if not fatal injury.
The golden Gryphon's problem was also one of structural and muscular limitations. He was more than capable of tracking every incoming round from the moment it left the barrel. In spite of his incredible flexibility and agility, however, the volume and precision of weapons-fire was starting to tax the ceiling of his physical limitations. Skye's weight, and drag, only served to exacerbate the issue.
Rain whipped against Varan's face as the platform loomed large in his vision. He shed altitude violently in order to gain speed, but the act bought him very little in terms of a buffer.
The Augments quickly realized that trying to handle both Gryphons simultaneously was a Sisyphean exercise in frustration, with only one inevitable outcome. They wordlessly evaluated their two targets, and settled on Varan. His impairment was imminently visible to them, mostly as a result of their Phase-III ocular sensing implants.
Even through the reflective surface of their faceplates, and sheets of downpour, Varan recognized the telltale small blue slits above their eyes. They reminded him eerily of Fyrenn's former Human visage.
Despite his close proximity to the platform, the golden Gryphon abruptly found himself unable to fully evade the incoming fire without placing Skye's life in direct jeopardy. Though several of the auto-turrets were unable to track far enough to work at such close proximity, the Augments were no longer hampered by splitting their attention.
Varan evaluated the incoming rounds, and carefully planned his final rolls, followed by a quick sideslip, to ensure that all impacts would be small arms fire falling on noncritical areas of his own body, and armor.
He tucked into the first roll, then broke sharply in the opposite direction in preparation for two more rolls, and the sideslip. The first of the impacts pinged harmlessly off his rear haunch plates.
As he entered the final roll, a sudden sharp pain in his right shoulder told him that one of the rounds had ricocheted off his wing guard, lodging itself deep into the muscle cluster. In spite of the sudden explosion of screaming nerves, the Gryphon did his best to maintain his sideslip.
Varan couldn't access his RAC, given that both claws were occupied ensuring Skye didn't plummet to a watery grave. Kephic was similarly indisposed, but Lantry had both hands free. The General unslung his rifle, and began peppering the edge of the platform with wildly indiscriminate fire, paying no mind to aim, nor conservation of ammunition.
Though the man couldn't see much of anything as a result of the driving rain occluding his helmet visor, his tactic had the desired effect. The Augments were forced to scatter to cover positions, making their lines of fire, in turn, less viable.
Seeing an opportunity, both Gryphons tucked their wings sharply, and stooped down through the outer ring of the platform at full speed. Though the Augments possessed a similar level of agility and visual acuity, they found it virtually impossible to acquire a sight picture on the speeding avian shapes as they whipped past at nearly one hundred and twenty miles per hour.
The Gryphons tilted slightly, and made for one of the enclosed vertical support buttresses at the opposite side of the structure's outer edge. Varan winced slightly as pressure on his right shoulder, from the stress on his wing, drove the slug deeper into the muscle. He braced himself as he prepared to decelerate.
Kephic pulled ahead, realizing that the aperture the pair were aiming for was barely large enough for one Gryphon, let alone two. Varan began to flare early, attempting to blunt the damage to his shoulder as much as possible.
The speckled Gryphon passed through the door and flared immediately, stretching his wings out to touch both walls of the chamber. Lantry grunted in discomfort as the deceleration from one hundred and twenty to zero in two seconds pressed him firmly against the inside of his chestplate.
Varan was forced to tuck his wings once more, then flare again as he passed into the ladder chamber. Kephic barely had time to pull to the side. For his part, Lantry performed a dive-roll into the ladder well itself, barely avoiding the leading edge of Varan's left wing as he came to a painful and unceremonious stop by crashing beak-first into the deck.
Skye slid away across the floor as her protector released his grip, coming to a stop against the soft barrier of Kephic's right wing. Varan grunted, and regained a standing position, tucking his left wing away, but leaving his right flight appendage extended.
Lantry and Kephic dashed to cover the entryway, while Skye ducked under the leading edge of Varan's wing, and swiftly examined his wound. Kephic glanced around the edge of the entry hatch, and pulled his RAC from between his shoulders.
"We have two minutes. At most."
Skye peered up at Varan's injury, and winced reflexively. She glanced up at the golden Gryphon, and forced a small smile.
"I'm no field surgeon, but that thing has to come out. I want you to relax the muscle, and hold very, *very* still."
Varan grunted, and raised an eyebrow. Nevertheless, he knelt and relaxed his right wing and shoulder, muttering to himself grimly.
"Do I have a choice?"
Skye glowered, and shook her head.
"Nope."
The Unicorn allowed tiny, delicate tendrils of her magic field to spill off her horn and into the wound. For several seconds she carefully probed, constructing a mental image of the slug's location and directional orientation.
The process was fairly simple; Skye knew that everywhere her thaumatic field could establish purchase represented a fragment of the slug. She knew she had encountered Varan's tissue when the field abruptly met a null void. A place where it refused to function in any way, regardless of how much power she poured into it.
She paused, then tightened her thaumatic grip, and yanked hard. The slug popped loose instantly, causing the wound to begin bleeding profusely. Varan winced, and slammed his left claw down over the puncture, applying ruthlessly forceful compression to prevent any further blood loss.
"Thank you."
Skye shook her head as she used her teeth to rip a spare cinch from her harness. As she transferred the kevlar strip to her magic field, and began tightly wrapping it around the wound, the Unicorn snorted.
"I'm pretty sure I should be thanking you. I suppose we're even now."
Varan raised an eyebrow as he withdrew his claw, allowing Skye to finish applying her makeshift compression patch.
"Even? Pray tell how you arrived at that conclusion?"
The Unicorn smirked as she finished her task, and stepped back. As Varan forced himself back into a standing position, Skye winked.
"Well, I did save you, and everyone else, from being trapped inside a collapsing skyscraper."
The golden Gryphon narrowed his eyes, and detached his weapon from its clamp point, doing his best to conceal a grimace of pain in the process.
"If anything, that was the minimum required to break even for deceiving us into believing you had died. Though I will opt to be generous. This time."
Skye grinned and rolled her eyes as she telekinetically unholstered her pistol, and switched off the safety.
"Gee. I appreciate the magnanimous gesture."
Lantry pulled away from his side of the hatch, allowing Varan to take his place. As both Gryphons peered out into the squall, alert for any sign of movement, the General laid out an action plan in firm, even tones.
"We attracted a lot of attention on the way in. I'm guessing there's more of them out there than you're comfortable dealing with head-on?"
Kephic nodded curtly, his ears pinning back gradually as he did his best to keep an undercurrent of frustration out of his voice.
"Three, or even four of them wouldn't be an entirely unprecedented fight. But two dozen? I don't like to admit it, but I don't fancy those odds. Especially given that we've already sustained injury."
Varan raised an eyebrow and grit his beak, but remained silent. Lantry nodded, and gestured to the ladder well.
"You have wings, they don't. We're not here to secure the platform, so there's no sense in making it a fair fight. All you have to do is keep them running after you in circles. Skye and I will reconnoiter the central chamber, plant the beacons, and then we can blow this popsicle stand and go home."
Kephic nodded, and jerked his head towards the ladder well.
"Get going then; Your head start is down to less than a minute. And we'd rather have a few spare moments, to make ourselves scarce."
Lantry nodded, and threw off a curt salute.
"Good hunting."
Varan raised an eyebrow, and tightened his grip on his RAC.
"Always."
"Damage control to deck six, bulkhead epsilon two-four!"
Carradan lashed out reflexively with one hoof to protect his head as the ship lurched under fire. As the explosion's forced dissipated, he regained his balance, and shot up the nearest access ladder.
The Pegasus froze as he gained traction on the deck plating, flaring his wings to bring him to a halt. The conscious thought processes of his brain took several seconds to evaluate what was transpiring in the corridor before him.
His unconscious instincts kicked into gear far more swiftly, tuned to a razor edge from a multitude of past fight or flight experiences.
A few meters away, a navy lieutenant was lying face first on the deck, a pool of blood rapidly expanding from a point beneath his left shoulder.
Above him stood a man clad in black unmarked standard issue assault gear. The soldier had the tip of his rifle pressed against the base of the lieutenant's skull, and was preparing to finish the man off with a merciless shot to the brain stem.
Stan whipped forward on a massive burst of compressed air generated by his wings. Powered by adrenaline, and urgency, he cannoned into the enemy soldier, using his momentum to force the man backwards at an impossibly high speed.
The Pegasus flared his wings once again to alter his trajectory, and bring him to a safe stop. The enemy soldier possessed no such biological braking mechanism. He slammed into a vertical support stanchion with more than enough force to shatter the majority of his spine, in spite of his armor's gel layers.
It took Stan several seconds to mentally review what had transpired, catch his breath, and evaluate his surroundings. Concern for the downed officer overrode most other thoughts in Carradan's head. He bent over the lieutenant, and shouted into his left ear.
"HEY! Can you hear me?! LIEUTENANT!"
The man groaned, and clutched at his shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself up into a sitting position. Stan grunted, and shook his head.
"Oh no you don't. Not in your condition. Arms up."
The Lieutenant shifted slightly, and held up his arms as high as he could. Stan slipped his front hooves under the man's shoulders, pulled into a mostly vertical stance, and back pedaled furiously towards the nearest hatchway, dragging the wounded officer with him.
To his relief, a pair of Ensigns materialized in the gloom, and rushed forward to help cart the wounded lieutenant out of the corridor.
As the two junior officers finished carrying their superior over the knee-knocker, a burst of carbine fire filled the air. Rounds ricocheted wildly off the paneling by the hatch, forcing Stan to dodge back towards the portal as swiftly as his legs could carry him.
He pushed himself up and over the knee-knockers on the force of a quick burst from his wings. As the two Ensigns struggled to manually close, and seal the doorway, the Pegasus caught sight of a chilling figure barreling down the companionway at full speed.
The hulking gray form was familiar to Stan, though he was more accustomed to seeing Diamond Dog Trolls clad in the stark white armor of the PER, rather than standard Earthgov black tactical gear.
The two officers barely managed to finish twisting the latching mechanism shut, before the Troll slammed into the door, producing a three inch bulge of a dent with the sheer impact force of his skull.
One of the ensigns blanched, and cross-drew his pistol, stepping cautiously back from the door. His voice quavered, but his aim stayed true as another impact shook the hatchway frame.
"What *is* that thing?!"
Stan raised an eyebrow, and grunted, forcing out a response as he gasped to regain his breath.
"That's whatcha get when you cross butt-ugly with angry-as-a hornet's nest. You should sound the intruder alarm."
The other ensign bent over the wounded lieutenant, and began working to stem the flow of blood from the man's shoulder. She paused in the middle of tying an impromptu bandage, fashioned from her left sleeve, and glanced up at Stan.
"And then what?"
Carradan paused, and wrinkled his brow. He glanced back and forth between the two Ensigns, noting their fearful and confused expressions. The male officer had one hand clutched to the side of his headset, and was conversing with someone in low, urgent tones.
"We have intruders aboard! I say again; Intruder alert! Deck four, bulkhead hotel nine-six! There are non-Humans in the boarding party! I repeat; Non-Human intruders aboard!"
Seconds later, an alarm began sounding through the shipwide speaker systems, accompanied by a PA announcement parroting the information the Ensign had relayed.
Stan bit his lower lip, and sighed. It took him a long moment to fully cope with it, but he suddenly arrived at the realization that both officers before him had likely seen far less action than he had. A consequence of spending so much time with Gryphons, in his view.
Another insistent, vicious impact against the compartment's hatch jolted the Pegasus into action once again. He realized time was short, and the situation was his to either make or break.
Carradan narrowed his eyes, and snorted.
"Is there another way out of this compartment?"
The female Ensign nodded, and gestured over her shoulder.
"There's a secondary access passage, but if they've spread out over the surrounding area, then we're hosed no matter what!"
The other Ensign shook his head and ran one hand through his hair nervously, lowering his pistol in the process.
"CIC says that there's almost no one available to do an internal sweep! If they've got more of those... *Things* out there..."
Another loud impact issued forth from the door, and a rivet popped out of the top left corner. Carradan jerked his head towards the secondary exit passage.
"Move! And jimbo? Watch where ya point that pea-shooter!"
The man nodded as he shouldered the wounded Lieutenant. He raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the passage, casting a curious glance back at Stan.
"What are we gonna do if they have us surrounded?!"
Carradan grinned wryly, and grit his teeth as he vaulted over the knee-knockers.
"Think like a featherbrain. Somethin' clever, crazy, and without a single ounce of subtlety."