The acceleration cocoon relaxed its all-over hold on her body, deflating with a quiet whirr of some hidden pump. The hatch above her lifted and Merlon stood, flexing legs and wings, a little stiff from their confinement, before jumping out of the airtank's servitor hold. Not as comfortable as a carrier, but at least it wasn't for long. The small chamber had a complete array of repeater screens -- normally the servitor was there to affect in-flight repairs -- and she'd watched the landscape flick by under the airtank's keel at some scarily-high multiple of the speed of sound.
The base she'd been delivered to was abuzz with activity, and seemed to have far more vehicles than its launch pads could easily cope with. From this vantage point, hovering a length above the airtank's comms mast, Merlon could count over two hundred of the lenticular armoured vehicles, all clustered around their respective attack carrier 'heavies', as well as a pair of clumsy-looking Arclight projectors, with a third just coming in for landing. They were inactive, but still felt strange, like they were not really part of the universe.
She came down for a four-hoofed landing, bowing to the pair of Intelligence analysts just coming up from the tunnels below the landing pad. "Masters, I am here on the orders of Strategist Orgon."
"Yes, the pony is," said the leader, a short male with the triple-diamond insignia of a captain. The other Master remained quiet and a few paces further away, one paw on her sidearm.
Merlon froze for a second, wondering at the expression on the silent Master's face. It was well hidden, but she'd seen it plenty of times before, and it always related to the presence of her Master. Now, it was directed at her. Fear, she thought. These Masters are afraid of me. The idea was so astounding that she stared blankly at the captain, for long enough that he took a nervous step back. Pain danced up her spine, not much, but just enough to focus her attention. "Could the Captain direct this servitor to the subject?" she said, speaking slowly and clearly, switching to the Master's diction.
The mesmerised look in the captain's eyes vanished and he nodded. "This way. The... subjects are being examined by one of the People at the moment. There were injuries."
More than one pony? Merlon remained silent as no more information was forthcoming. The route took them into the depths of the base, past thick blast doors and along a steep spiral ramp that dropped down the wall of a shaft that must have been a kilolength deep. As with most installations connecting to the surface, it was lined with openings to the various hangars and gryphon barracks-roosts, although, this being a military base, the shaft was capped with an enormous thickness of armourcrete. External access was via a number of vehicle-sized tunnels, fanning out from the central core and emerging some distance away.
Near the bottom was a small complex, isolated from the rest of the base by another set of checkpoints and guards. The hostility from the Masters working in this area was palpable, and Merlon strove to keep her ears alert and forward. Me just being here makes them uncomfortable. Twinges of phantom pain crept up her fetlocks, making her gait stiff and awkward.
The office area, full of screens and Masters working to make some sense of the on-going chaos, fell behind, and they came to a double set of thick, sound-proofed doors marked 'Interrogation One'. Shadow sight showed the normal host of crystal thaumic equipment, and two sets of horn and wing lights; one of these looked dangerously faint.
"The servitor will-- Hey!"
Merlon ignored the captain's cry, shearing through the door's locking mechanism with a flicker of force and pushing past into the room beyond. An alarm started to sound in the corridor, a sharp, pulsing whine that made her ears fold back. There was the sound of running boots, but Merlon ignored them, too. Inside was all the expected paraphernalia of a multi-species interrogation suite, with an oversized couch that could accommodate a gryphon trooper with ease.
A stallion was strapped to the bench, currently folded to support him in a standing position, with head and neck fixed to clamps and held rigid, muzzle strapped shut and the jewelled ring of a suppressor about the base of his horn. Monitors were attached to little patches of shaved skin at his throat and between his hind legs, and the cup of a memory interrogation crown's transcranial stimulator reached down from the ceiling like the tentacle of some deep-sea cephalopod hunting for prey. A pair of military medics had been working on him, connecting all the remaining equipment required for a memory trawl. What they weren't doing was paying any attention to the mare. Merlon recognised her from Orgon's long kiloseconds of work investigating the servitors of corral twenty-seven.
She was lying on a field sleep pad designed for one of the Masters, and thus far too small, and was plastered with thaumically active dressings. The things, only really designed for surface cuts and punctures, were obviously inadequate for whatever she'd been put through; none of them showed the glitter of healing magic and blood was starting drip from their edges, adding to the carmine already staining her fur. The stallion was watching her with wild-eyed intensity, despite the activities of the medics. It is obvious he cares nothing for himself. My Master would have not made this mistake. Long practice allowed Merlon to compartmentalise her disappointment at such short-sighted behaviour on behalf of the People.
The medics shied away as she pushed forwards, the annoyance on their faces turning to fear as she didn't slow or acknowledge their presence. Merlon's horn flashed, sealing the door behind her with a field of pearly-white radiance and muffling the noise of the alarm. More magic: first to remove both holstered sidearms and hold them against the ceiling, then other arcana to sweep the mare, Elliptic, and hunt for the cause of her distress.
"What is the pony doing?"
Merlon ignored the command and the whisper of the Maker dragging claws down her back, and the subsequent yelp as one of the pair tried to shoulder-barge her force field. The claws sharpened, making it harder to manage the mental effort required for casting the complex medical spells. "This pony is in hypovolemic shock. You will keep her alive." She picked up both medics and dropped them in front of the mare, hard enough to make them gasp. Merlon's hindquarters gave way as the claws multiplied and were joined by fanged mouths. I cannot work like this!
One of the medics started probing at the sodden dressings, paws moving almost of their own accord, the shock of being suddenly picked up and dropped jarring loose his training. The other did not. "The servitor does not order this one--!"
"I am Strategist Orgon's personal servitor," Merlon croaked, the simple affirmation of this fact pushing most of the pain away. "He has charged me with the successful interrogation of your prisoner. This mare is the prisoner's mate."
"A memory trawl does not require the subject's cooperation; the female is probably unsaveable already."
There was a grunt of distress from the stallion and, without thinking, Merlon gripped the medic's head, holding his muzzle closed. The pain came on all at once, covering her flanks with biting, clawing tormentors and making all her magic flicker and die. The door, bereft of its magical reinforcement, flew open to reveal the bulky mass of a gryphon flysoldat in full 'dynamic entry' combat rig, complete with flank-mounted breaching lance. Behind the flysoldat and well to one side were a pair of the People in far more mundane armour.
I will not fail my Master! The thought and the presence of this more manageable threat banished the pain and Merlon could finally think clearly. A needle of force slammed into the gryphon, cracking the soldier's breastplate and flinging him backwards, the lance jamming against the door frame and spinning him about. Her force field came on with the peal of a crystal bell, a cylinder of white-lit glass that surrounded herself, the medics and two prisoners, just in time to intercept a volley of shots from the remaining security staff. Merlon winced, feeling the sudden extra strain as the rounds made the field flash and spark. Gritting her teeth, she felt for the stallion's brain, plunging him immediately into a deep sleep.
"These prisoners are vital to my Master, Strategist Orgon," she shouted, then stood there, listening to the sounds of boots and talons approaching. The gryphon had regained his paws, and pulled a grenade from one pannier, glancing at the Person next to him, a sergeant who was obviously in charge of this security team.
The sergeant hesitated, paws twitching around the grip of his stubby railgun. "The pony will explain its actions, or this one will splash its brains across the wall," he snarled.
"Strategist Orgon needs to know how the rogues have so much magical strength, and how they teleport." Merlon swung her head around, bowing to the medics. "The trawl will only give you memories, and has never been used on a pony, as far as I know. There's no way I can recover a spell pattern from just memory trawl data. This stallion--" Here she stretched out one wing, tapping a primary feather against Scalar's rump. "--cares nothing for his own suffering. If his mate dies, then I have no leverage."
The sergeant slowly lowered his weapon, a flicker of disgust crossing his face. "The pony's orders have been confirmed. Does Specialist Sandu agree with the pony's assessment?" he said, addressing one of the medics.
"Yes," Sandu said reluctantly, "this one has never worked on a servitor before. It may be correct."
"Taking orders from a servitor; unbelievable." The sergeant shook his head, gun muzzle now pointing at the floor. "The pony will lower its force field."
What if this is a trick? Merlon hesitated, a bare second but long enough for the soldier to frown and the Blessing to jab a hot needle in the side of her head. The field collapsed and she stood there, head bowed and teeth clenched. How long will I have to be away from my Master? I am too vulnerable to the whims of these People. Even when I have my orders, they may not follow my guidance out of arrogance or spite. Unbidden, her eyes flicked to Scalar's horn and the little spot of damage it must possess, then closed as she performed the difficult mental trick of using shadow sight to look inside her own head. The faint traceries of the Blessing were easy to see, now that she knew where to look.
The Masters are the Paws of the Maker. I am here to serve my Master. Eyes still clenched tight-shut, she directed a tiny pulse of magic at a point just above her hornbed.
===
Rthar awoke shivering, pulling his limbs in a little tighter under the shield of brown feathers. In response, Olvir moved slightly, curling his long body around Rthar. This brought some slight relief, but the cold was all-encompassing, even with their shared body heat and within the shelter of the wood-lined prison. It was dark, although enough light leaked in from the entrance that he could see a little of his predicament.
Wood panels, with the precise smooth surfaces of force-field cuts, lined every surface. They were fresh and leaked sticky, pine-smelling amber resin everywhere. The only break in the walls was the entrance to the chamber; no wood here, instead a boulder the size of an airtruck blocked the opening, lifted into place without apparent effort by one of the ponies. Olvir's head came up, questing blindly. "Master?" he said, "how are you feeling?" His voice sounded rough, even worse than the normal gryphon rasp.
The gryphon cannot see. We never did manage to give them good night vision. Rthar rolled over and Olvir obligingly opened his wing to let him out. "Cold, but this one will survive. It is a shame that Security policy is to trim away the winter coat," he grumbled. There was a sudden liquid rumble from Olvir's gut. Rthar froze, taking a silent step backwards. The client race has a very strong prey drive... and it won't be able to maintain body temperature without food. He fixed his gaze on the gryphon's heavy beak, paws clenching. Rthar should do it now, while it still trusts this one. Fighting a hungry and alert gryphon in a confined space was not going to end well otherwise.
"Yes, Captain. I have the same problem." Olvir gestured to his leonine back half, the fur kept short for proper fitting of thermal control barding. "Do you want to try digging out again?"
"These ones need to get out; who knows when or if the pony will come back." He reached forwards, laying one paw on Olvir's left foreleg, stumbling back when the blunted talons lashed out.
"Sorry, Master. I can't see what you are doing and you surprised me. Are you okay?"
There was panic in Olvir's voice, mixed in with a trace of... longing? "This one is fine," Rthar said, one paw massaging his shoulder. Very fortunate that the gryphon has blunt talons! "He will be more careful in future." Moving carefully, he tapped lightly on Olvir's extended talons, holding still when the gryphon twitched. He guided the limb to the wall, placing it on the site they'd been working on. The talons closed over the wood, flexing and digging into the thick planks, pulling up big splinters. Only another day and we can start actually digging through the mountain, Rthar thought, his ears drooping.
There was a sudden influx of light, bright enough to bring tears to Rthar's dark-adapted eyes. It was the colour of sunlight, but more diffuse, and coated the boulder like a luminescent mist. He froze, then quickly stepped back from the rock. With a low grinding sound, it was lifted away. At his side, Olvir turned to face the opening, beak opening in threat and making a loud hissing sound.
"That's enough of that, flysoldat," said Ellisif, her tone amused.
"I do not follow the orders of traitors!" Olvir spat, glancing sidelong at Rthar, who took a quick sideways step away from him. The gryphon's voice was firm, but little tremors raced through his frame, making his forelegs twitch.
"I have precious little loyalty left, after I was reassigned for medical experimentation. I think you will soon see the truth of the situation you are in."
Olvir opened his beak to retort, but froze when violet magic reached in and held him still. That colour, this one has seen that colour before-- Rthar gasped, stumbling backwards when the magic's owner stepped into the chamber. "The pony is the one Rthar met in the Institute!" he choked out, flattening himself against the rear wall.
Magic grasped him at wrists and ankles, holding him spread-eagled against the smooth wood. The creature, a dark shadow wreathed in violet, star-filled flames, stared at him intently, a slow smile crossing its lips. "The empty suit! You were the dog that got away from me... I can fix that right now. This will teach you not to hurt foals..." The voice trailed off into a hiss and the pressure on Rthar's limbs heightened, his joints responding with spikes of pain as they were slowly pulled apart.
"That's enough, Gravity," Fusion said, her own magic folding over the violet bands of force as she stepped inside. "We do not kill defenceless prisoners."
Gravity narrowed her eyes and, for a moment, the pressure didn't relent, then she snorted, dropping Rthar to the ground. "Give me an excuse, dog. Just one mistake and there won't be enough of you left to--" Her horn's glow changed slightly, odd pulses of violet haze dancing up and down its length.
Fusion touched Gravity lightly with one wing and the pony quieted, relaxing her hold on Olvir, who slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. "Gryphon... Olvir, I think? Yes. Unlike the Captain here, you have a choice."
Three other shapes crowded into the room; Ellisif and two other gryphons of various colourations. They took hold of Olvir, half helping, half pulling him from the room. No, don't leave this one alone with the pony! "W-what will happen to this one's gryphon; he is responsible for--"
"That question does you credit, Captain. It gives me hope that this will go smoothly," Fusion said quietly. "He really does have a choice. We need as many trained gryphons as we can get, so will be allowed to join the fight."
"And if he doesn't?"
"A prisoner, for now. I think we will be able to let him go home eventually."
Rthar shivered. Security will take him apart looking for answers, and what good will that do? "No," he said reluctantly. "Let this one talk to him if he refuses. The gryphon will vanish if he returns."
Fusion nodded, her ears drooping slightly. "I thought as much," she muttered, turning her head. "Gravity, what do you think? Can you do it?"
There was a subtle pressure in Rthar's head, and an incredibly strong feeling of déjà-vu swept through him--
~~running through the maintenance tunnels beneath the school, pursued by Molab and his gang. Breath harsh in his throat and heart pounding. Path blocked by a security door; slamming shoulder-first into the unyielding surface, then~~
~~holding Shiri's cold paw as the doctor said something, the words blurring into a tone of professional sympathy, something about his mate not rating thaumic medical intervention and that it was unlikely~~
~~an aircraft, an ungainly cylinder looking like a snake swallowing an egg, settling on a landing pad surrounded by a collection of escort vehicles~~
--Rthar gasped, paws coming up to clutch at his head. "Stop, this one won't--"
"Yes," Gravity said, a self-satisfied smile on her muzzle. "It's not the same as with a sharing, but if you guide the questioning I can pull up associated memories." She settled on her belly, pulling Rthar down to her level. "Can't I, Captain?"
The pressure disappeared. "This one won't help the pony!"
Fusion sighed. "It doesn't have to be this way, Rthar, but we really do need to know what we are up against. Ellisif, are you ready?"
The gryphoness padded back into the chamber, her bright yellow eyes hard and expressionless. "Svartr and Adigard have taken Olvir back to the base; I'm all yours." She sat back on her haunches next to Gravity, reaching out with one talon to lift Rthar's muzzle. "We'll start with what you know about the deployment patterns of Lacunae's Arclight squadrons..."
Rthar clenched his jaws shut, but Gravity's horn lit again and the pressure returned.
===
Packet Switcher's ears twitched at the sound of hooves moving past the entrance to his alcove. Let's give this a try... if that foal can do it, I don't see why I can't. Lilac had been one of those who'd helped look after him, and the sight of his telekinetically powered limbs had been a source of wonder. Muscles rippled in his chest, and his forelegs moved slightly, sending waves of pain dancing through the bones. Grimacing, Packet exerted his power, pulling himself upright and straightening his legs. Tentatively he lowered his weight to the ground with a groan.
"Just muscle pain," he muttered, "you trust Spiral, don't you?" There was a feeling like the flesh would rip from his bones, but Packet took a first step, then another. The sharp, stabbing pain faded with each tottering stride, until it was only an ache that filled the whole front of his body. Wings half extended for balance, he joined the flow of ponies moving towards the main tunnel.
Mares, hundreds of mares, perhaps a quarter of them obviously pregnant or with young foals. Very few stallions. Packet swallowed, suddenly made nervous by the mass of unfamiliar ponies. Wait, I know... "Random, is that you?" The tan flanks of his old friend twitched, her stripped wings looking small and naked against her fur.
The mare flinched, a sudden, hunted look crossing her face. "P-Packet? I thought..."
"I was; Spiral cleared me, for as long as I don't try any trotting." They walked along with the herd, a slow-moving island in the flood. His eyes roved over her wings. "I see your pinfeathers are starting to come through." They were ugly things, worse than even those of a newborn foal. Random moved at his side like one in a trance, head bowed and eyes on the ground between her hooves.
"Yes. Won't be long before they emerge," she muttered. "Soon I'll flying among the clouds."
"Fusion said the Masters made you do things, in some sort of mechanical sharing," Packet said quietly, voice nearly lost amid the rumble of countless hooves.
She stumbled, taking a deep breath. "This is the same Fusion who smashed your legs in an effort to keep her secret a few more days."
Packet's ears went back and he ground his teeth. "Yes. I'm having trouble forgiving her for that." Pain flashed up his legs. "If you ever want to talk about it..."
"Some day, perhaps." She flashed him a smile, so brief that it might as well have been nothing, and they walked on in silence, finally entering the main tunnel.
It was packed with the unknown ponies, owners of all the varied colours and smells he'd glimpsed or scented since waking up. With slow steps he joined them, Random pressed close to his side. Her bony, naked wings felt lumpy and alien against his own, so he moved them, spreading yellow feathers over her back and down her opposite flank.
Random moved her wing, the one on the side away from his body, up and back, hiding it under his. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Fusion told me what you were put through... it seemed the least I could do."
Random's head came up and she glared back at him, her ears flat back. "The Masters only--" she spat, then broke off, closed her eyes and swallowed. "Yes," she said, voice suddenly quiet, then sobbed, sagging against side. Packet winced, but kept his expression sympathetic as pain flashed through his withers.
He sighed, rubbing his wing down her flank, then nuzzled her poll, teeth working along the line of her mane. Up at the end of the tunnel, on the same stage he'd seen via one of the repeater spells, were a stack of foal horns, perhaps a score of them. I still can't believe it... that the Masters, the dogs, would do this to us. Random opened her eyes briefly, then squeezed them shut again, tears leaking out from between the tight-clenched lids. She was whispering something; the words were too jumbled to make out, but it had the feeling of a litany to it. The Masters are the paws of the Maker, Packet thought, then shuddered.
Backdraft and Spiral were on the stage, the pile of horns between them. Somewhere further back were Gravity and Fusion, only really visible via shadow sight against the constant background glow of all the other ponies, but they seemed to be keeping a low profile. Packet sniffed, his nostrils flaring. There are gryphons nearby... he craned his neck, but wherever the creatures were, it was out of sight.
"Everypony," Backdraft called out, her voice sounding rougher than normal, "especially those of you who have been in Naraka for a long time. Ponies die all the time in the service of the dogs, but at least we, in the outside world, have the chance to acknowledge this and move on. From what you have told me, this was never the case. A pony would just disappear, never to be seen again."
The silence in the tunnel deepened, the only sound that of shuffling hooves and the rustle of feathers. The nearest ponies, all Naraka natives, seemed to be uncertain how to react. Some were blank-faced and still, as if carved from stone, others -- mostly those with young foals -- were openly weeping. Even in this they were silent, heads bowed and tears running down muzzles.
"Some of you will remember Homecomings, others have only been told about them. Nothing can really make up for the loss of a friend or a foal, but at least we can remember them, and give something of them back." She paused, glancing at Spiral, then gestured at the sad little pile. "So little of your missing ponies remained, and little enough of that could be rescued, but at least we can remember them."
At her side, Spiral's horn glowed, lifting bulky shapes onto the platform. Packet groaned, his ears drooping. "So many from our corral," he muttered to Random, "I didn't realise..." Spiral's work continued and the pile grew larger, a pyramid of limp bodies in a rainbow of colours. Cord bound their limbs, folding them into compact packages, while their coats were marred by the white squares of field dressings. Despite all the deaths being caused by traumatic injuries, somepony had cleaned their coats so no trace of blood was visible. Finally finished, Spiral started to build another pile, this one of gryphons. Here the injuries were more extensive; in some cases barely a trace of feather or fur was visible.
Packet whinnied quietly, holding Random tight against his side. Horrible, this is horrible. How can Spiral have coped with all this for so long? I'd rather a pony just vanished.
Fusion jumped up onto the stage, dipping her head to briefly brush muzzles with Spiral. "We can remember all of our fallen friends," she said, voice clear as it rang out across the assembled herd. "Not just ponies, but all the gryphons who died so we could escape. Without them, I would be dead. Gravity would be dead. Most of you would be dead." She nodded to her sister, now standing on the opposite side of the stage. Spiral and Backdraft retreated, leaving the pair alone with a pile of corpses larger than they were.
Gravity, her own coat patterned with obvious burns and minor injuries, continued. "We could not bring all the gryphon dead out of Naraka, just as we couldn't bring all of the foals. Our priority must be to the living, but we won't forget their sacrifice." A field of violet magic condensed over the pile, lifting it gently into the air. More magic appeared within the outer shell, a brilliant white-gold, which seemed to darken, holding the other power within it. There was a sensation of heat, like that from the sun, and the light grew brighter.
"How much power is she using?" Packet muttered, transfixed by the building power. Any sign of individual bodies was lost against the glow, and there was the impression that, without the outer shell, the fire would burst free and consume them all. At his side, Random shivered.
After a hundred seconds or so the power faded, leaving nothing more than a pile of fine, grey ash. It should have been at white heat, or had some smell to it, but was cold and there was nothing. Closer to the stage, ponies started to move, lining up to walk past the pile, horns glowing as they picked up a small amount. They were all familiar, all from corral twenty-seven. The others don't even know what to do. The thought twisted inside Packet's head, and he made an abortive motion to join the line.
"We'd normally scatter the ash through the fields and under the light of Celestia, but we can't. What we have are the gardens we are building... if you want, you can spread the ash there." Fusion picked up her own portion, joining the flow of ponies. More than one gryphon was also there, looking slightly confused but taking part anyway, ash trailing from clenched talons as they hobbled after the ponies.
Under the glow of hornlight and not amid the trees. What have you reduced us to? Packet stepped forwards, but Random didn't move.
"Don't leave me." Her voice was distorted, the words forced out as if by panic. "I can't--"
"Do you just want to talk, then?" He steered her out of the flow of ponies, back towards the tunnels assigned for sleeping.
Not resisting, she nodded jerkily. "I want to, but I'm not sure I can." She stopped, head coming up so she could stare in his face, eyes searching for something. "How do you stay so calm? I know what Fusion did to you."
With gentle nips to Random's flanks, Packet tried to nudge her back into motion, his stomach suddenly twisted into knots. How-- There was a sudden memory, of irresistibly powerful magic holding him still while pain radiated from a collar about his throat. "Let's go somewhere quiet and we can talk."
Random nodded jerkily, then put one hoof in front of the other and started to walk again.
===
"...I have reconnected with the remains of my squad and identified the rest of the gryphons with military training. That's about twenty all-told, all of whom who were sent to Naraka because they were loose ends. A further ten are too injured to fight, but can be used as trainers." Ellisif shook her head, the feathers on the top of her head lifting slightly. "We are getting better medical care with you than back at Security. Anyway, I have established a training cadre, and things are proceeding about as well as I'd expect. This lot will need megaseconds of work, and even then we really need more weapons to do anything useful other than just killing civilians."
"I can say the same for the pony side of things. Teleport training is the hardest thing to master... perhaps one in five of the ones from Naraka have managed it, but that's only of the ones we've had a chance to teach. It's going to be a long time before we get to everypony. The ratio is better for the ones from the corral -- due to higher magical experience, I expect -- so we've been focussing on them. I've also had Redshift showing other matter-manipulation specialists some of the tricks to reactivating your weapons, when we get more."
Gravity sighed, wriggling slightly to settle a little deeper into the leaf-litter and letting Fusion's words wash over her. Planning, planning, planning. Who knew a revolution would be so, so... She exchanged glances with Ellisif, who gave her a disapproving look. "This is all very interesting, and we've been over it several times, but it really doesn't matter. Ellisif's gryphons will have to eat, and they won't be able to do anything useful until we can get them weapons."
"How much food do we have?" Fusion said. "For ponies as well, I mean." She glanced at Backdraft, who sighed in turn.
"Plenty of the dogs’ food supplements, so at least there have been no complaints about that. We'll have to start rationing them soon, unless you want to raid another corral-- don't look at me like that, Fusion. I know you don't approve of the stuff. Anyway, the wild greens are holding out, and the gardens have been sprouting apace--" She smiled at Fusion's confused expression. "You never did pay much attention in my lessons. It's why the Mas-- dogs spread the pony corrals out amid their farmlands." She cocked her head, ears forward, smiling.
"Our magic has a positive effect on plants, both rate and yield, especially when we tend crops everyday," Fusion murmured, matching Backdraft's smile. "That's something, at least." She frowned, brow wrinkling. "We are going to have to watch that. Differential growth in the forest above this refuge will mark us out."
"How long's that going to take?" Ellisif waved a claw, encompassing the night's sky above, still filled with odd twisting patterns of luminescent gas and the random streak of meteors. "There will be no satellite coverage for a while, if I understand what is going on up there. Certainly I've not seen anything in a regular orbit. Anyway--" She snapped her beak. "--as well as looking for any sign of the dogs, the scout teams have been hunting for deer, and there aren't that many to start with. Still plenty of rabbits... and we've been collecting those for farming because they are little more than snacks." She waited, then looked disappointed.
"What, you think that ponies don't work on the dogs’ cattle farms?" Backdraft snorted, looking amused. "So what do you want, Ellisif, food or weapons?"
"Can't we do both?" Gravity said, standing up. "We're not needed here, and either one of us can bring any number of gryphons with us. How hard will it be to raid the cattle farms?"
Fusion blinked. "Yes, I guess that will be easy enough -- if you are quick. Don't get pinned down." She glanced at Ellisif. "What will you do with them? We can't keep them alive, the land here..."
"...will be our advantage. Plenty of space above the snowline. They'll stay frozen for as long as we need them to."
"There's no point in you going. I'll ask some of the teleport-trained to go; it will be good practice."
And it won't matter if the cows don't arrive in one piece. Gravity smiled, nodding. "Perfect! No need to do multiple jumps, either. You go with them and I'll go with Ellisif."
"Which is where, exactly?" Fusion stared steadily at Gravity. "Haven't you taken enough risks in the last couple of days?"
Gravity felt her ears flick back, then forced them forwards again. "We've spoken about this. You really want to do this all yourself? I'll take Ellisif to the Pit and see what we can salvage. I know that there were a lot of gryphons in there when I left... with all their weapons."
"You'll need Redshift or one of his group to fix the weapons--" Fusion slumped, closing her eyes. "Just be careful, okay?"
Gravity smiled, her heart rate accelerating. "You know me, sister. When have I ever taken any risks?"
Fusion stared back, then shook her head. "That's it, I'm definitely coming with you."
===
Merlon staggered, a sudden electric agony lacing her body. Wings loose and flapping wildly, she collapsed, legs splayed, to the floor. There was shouting, and the sounds of booted paws, but these were minor, inconsequential things compared to the all-encompassing pain.
Then it vanished and there was nothing.
"Don't," Merlon wheezed, staring up into the sergeant's gun barrel. The Maker has gone. "This is a stressful situation for a pony, I have my orders but..." Her magic returned, and instinctive patterns flooded her mind to cluster around the security troops. Not real, not yet, but enough potential violence to reduce them to paste. There should have been more pain, stopping the thoughts before they really even started, but there was nothing. I did it, I really did it. Her ears drooped and she slowly climbed to her hooves. The Masters are the Paws of the Maker. "Do I have your permission to continue, sergeant? Remember that this is a critical project."
The Master looked uncertain, then disgusted. "Fine. The pony will do what it has to do."
"Thank you, Master." Merlon took a deep breath, then bowed, muzzle all the way to the floor, remaining low until the security team had left the room. Still shaky, she turned to the pair of medics, her magic scanning Elliptic. The pony had stabilised -- she was still in critical condition, but at least she wasn't getting worse. There was a moan from behind her, and the sound of somepony trying to move.
"Your mate is safe, Scalar, for now. You can relax," Merlon said, walking stiffly to his side and pulling off the half-assembled trawl equipment. A bit. He stared at her, eyes wild. "You have done our Masters a great evil, but you have the chance to redeem yourself. Perhaps even come back into the protection of the Maker." And if I can manage it for you, then maybe I can be saved. Merlon gently nudged the medics aside, probing the mare with her magic and starting the more important repairs. "I can handle everything from here, Masters."
Her eyes followed them as they backed away. They look... nervous, just like that pair of Intelligence Officers. Merlon sketched a bow and smiled her thanks, but that just made them move faster. This will be reported... Her ears flattened and she carefully loosened Scalar's muzzle restraints. I cannot let them stop my mission!
"How badly hurt is my mate?" he whispered, voice shaky. "Will she live?"
"It's quite serious. She's lost a lot of blood. The rest is superficial... up to a point." She stepped back, tapping Elliptic on the side of the head with a forehoof. "It's a shame really. You know the policy relating to servitors who are too injured to be worth saving... you saw what the Masters were going to do." Closing her eyes, Merlon lowered her head and ran her muzzle over the field dressings on the other mare's neck. "It's possible that this might be the only chance she has. Without me she will simply be left to die."
"How could you do this to one of your own kind?" he choked out, wriggling against the restraints. "Help her, please."
"We can help each other." Her hornlight went out and she turned to look at Scalar. "You can start by telling me where Fusion and the others are."
His ears went back. "I don't know where it is. I only ever teleported there."
"Then let's talk your new magic... this is tricky. I need you to show me the pattern you are using to teleport, but I can only do that if I remove your suppressor." Merlon's horn lit, coils of pearly white radiance weaving themselves through Elliptic's chest. "Right now, I am actively supporting her heart function... if you try to fight me, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to keep the magic working."
"But my friends... the dogs will kill them all," Scalar whispered, his eyes going wide.
Merlon's head came up and she glared at the bound stallion. "How dare you! Our Masters will save as many ponies as they can!"
"Do you believe that? Really? Or is that the Blessing talking?"
"I don't need to believe... I know it to be true." Merlon shook her head violently, ears flat back and mane whipping from side to side. "I can't save you, Scalar, but your mate is truly innocent, as are many of the others at your corral. Give me a way to find the instigators of this... this... rebellion--" She spat the word, leaning in until she was muzzle to muzzle with him. "--and the rest can be saved. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that the Synod will demand everypony's head." She took a step back, breathing deeply, trying to lose some of the sudden anger.
Calm, I will get nowhere unless I remain calm. I have my orders. She froze, breath hitching. Which were to assist in the interrogation, not run it. Merlon's wings flicked and she shifted her weight from hoof to hoof. What has happened to me? I've never disobeyed, not even slightly. She took a deep breath, waiting for the Maker's guidance, but there was nothing but emptiness where it should have been. Stupid mare! You did this to yourself, cut yourself loose. Stupid to think that things would be the same.
Merlon realised that Scalar was staring at her, a hopeful expression in his eyes. It doesn't matter. Maker or not, these rogues will get everypony killed if they are not stopped. It was clear that the interrogators were not up to the task, so it was my duty to replace them. A nod and a twitch of magic, just a slight nudge to certain nerves high in the brainstem, and Elliptic started to convulse, hooves rattling against the hard floor and air grunting from her lungs.
"Stop! Please!" Scalar struggled against the straps holding him to the bench, fitful glows flickering about his horn.
Merlon smiled, reversing the induced seizure, then gripped Scalar's head with her magic. "I promise you that, for as long as you help me, I will work to save Elliptic." Her smile faded, replaced with a look of concern. "I don't want to hurt anypony, but the further down this path you go, the more suffering it will cause. I'm doing this for the good of everypony." Scalar slumped, breathing raggedly, and didn't look at her. Gently, Merlon undid the clamps holding his head, then disconnected the thaumic suppressor.
He looked up at her for a moment, ears folding flat back, and Merlon tensed. These rogues all seem to be stronger than they should be... if he decides to fight anyway... "Fine," he muttered, tears running down his muzzle. "I don't care what you do to me, just save my mate."
"I will personally vouch for her with my Master, Strategist Orgon. She will be safe." Merlon smiled sadly, feeling for the stallion's mind. "I may have been hasty before. You have been led badly astray and I think it is possible that you and Elliptic may be able to stay together, with suitable controls in place. My Master understands that the actions of Agent Salrath drove you to do what you did."
"You... you think so?"
Likely with your magic burned out, if at all. Merlon banished the thoughts, making a secure space in her head for the sharing environment. "I am my Master's expert on ponykind; I am sure he will take my advice." I will try, at least. Her power intensified, taking hold of Scalar's mind. After a moment's hesitation, he let her inside.
===
Doctor Hemanth stripped off his barrier gloves and ran his carefully-rounded claws over his ears and around his eyes. The patient, now cleaned of the concrete dust that had coated every fibre of her coat, sat quietly in the examination room. If only all of this one's patients were this calm, Hemanth thought. Outside this little room and its sound-proofed door it was bedlam.
Whatever had happened at Naraka had collapsed chambers for kilolengths, while the shockwaves had severed electrical and data cables over a much greater radius. Backup communication links, via satellite, were also offline, and no official explanation had been forthcoming. Shift end notwithstanding, Hemanth hadn't been able get away from the hospital -- in addition to all of that, two high-capacity vehicle tunnels had fallen in, trapping or killing thousands of drivers in their vehicles, and the work had been never-ending -- but even with the panic and desperate work, he hadn't forgotten the stomach-churning flutters in weight that had presaged the collapses. Like being in a fast tube capsule. Something big happened, and the Synod isn't talking.
He accessed the hospital's data systems, currently operating in 'stand-alone' mode, reviewing and updating the patient's details. "The patient is Rinchur, yes?" He smiled at her slightly confused nod. "The computer systems are not working too well at the moment; this one wants to be sure."
"Has there been any news of this one's mate, Eldu?" she said, eyes downcast.
Hemanth composed his face into a well practiced expression of sympathy. "This one is sorry... the records show that one other was taken from the vehicle, but there have been no updates since then. It is possible that your mate was taken to one of the other hospitals; patients were distributed according to need." He leaned forward slightly, reaching out to touch her remaining paw. "Hemanth is not saying that there is no hope, but Rinchur's mate was listed as non-responsive during triage... she should prepare herself for the news that might follow." Dead at the scene, most likely, but it is interesting... the pattern of injuries for the pair are odd and not really consistent with the others in the collapse. Frowning, he made a note on the file to investigate further, then switched back to Rinchur.
Her file was also a study in anomalies. "Rinchur has large numbers of partially healed multiple fractures--" Hemanth went silent and his eyes widened at the extent of her injuries. How did she survive all that? "--sorry. Those are obviously not of immediate concern. How is the arm?"
Rinchur lifted the truncated limb, glancing at the cap of gel bandage. "This one is grateful that she can no longer feel her fingers," she said softly.
"Phantom limb pain is not uncommon, especially with a traumatic amputation; the drugs should have permanently neutralised the spurious neural signals, but Rinchur may have to return for further treatment if the sensations return." Hemanth paused, head cocked to one side. "The injury was really quite clean, most unusual for this sort of accident. This one is impressed Rinchur was able to tourniquet the limb."
"The threat of death does wonders," she said dryly. "This one had no desire to bleed out."
"Military training?" She had a well-toned musculature and a way of standing that seemed to show a constant awareness of everything around her, and there was no shock or denial at the recent loss of her paw or, for that matter, her mate. Some are like that... she may recover completely, but a course of counselling may still be useful, he thought, updating her treatment notes. It would be nice to have one success today.
"A little. The Doctor mentioned something about a prosthetic?"
Hemanth nodded. "This one is still waiting for results from the DNA assay. When that is done, he can determine the correct drug regimen to prevent any long-term viability issues, should you successfully apply for a regeneration. In the meantime, because our manufactory is at full capacity, all this one can offer Rinchur is a temporary model." He removed it from its case, nodding at Rinchur's disappointment. "Purely mechanical, operated by the opposite shoulder. This one knows it doesn't look like much, but it will help until Hemanth can supply an electronic one suitable for neural connection."
Rinchur sighed, then nodded and stood up, holding out her remaining paw for the harness. Hemanth helped her into it, adjusting the straps so the split hook that served the thing as a gripper opened and closed as she moved. "It will do," she said, then swung it in a fast arc that terminated in Hemanth's throat. He fell, gagging and choking, paws scrabbling for his neck, but Rinchur caught them and lowered him silently to the ground. "This one thanks the Doctor for his work, but she cannot wait for those samples... and they might show things that contradict her story." She stepped over him, locking the door from the inside.
There was a roaring in his ears and darkness was starting to crawl in from the edges of his vision. Rinchur leaned over him, an interested smile twisting her muzzle into something ugly. "Oh look, the Doctor is still logged onto the hospital's system. Perhaps Rinchur can make some alterations to her records. It even looks like she can order her samples destroyed." Her paw played with the controls for a few moments. "There! No point in wasting scarce resources. Looks like she never even had this meeting with the Doctor."
Why? Who are-- Hemanth tried to shout, tried to scream, but it was like someone had rammed an incandescent rock down his throat.
"This one was in Naraka and can see where things are going, and she wants no part of it. She's off to find somewhere out of the way until this mess is sorted out, perhaps to Baur or Soro Hive." Her smile widening, Rinchur turned and kneeled at his side, staring intently into his eyes. "This one wants a change in career, Doctor. Her previous employers proved to be unreliable. Fortunately she has a very particular set of skills, skills she has acquired over a very long career... and she is sure they will find many uses. She thinks it would be nice to work for herself for a while."
The roaring grew louder, and the last thing Hemanth saw was the light glinting off Rinchur's teeth.