“I like him. I think that not only is he a better candidate, but a far more deserving one as well.”
“I agree.”
“Then why the hang-up?”
“Human political maneuvering.”
Kephic had to visibly restrain himself from spitting as Sildinar said the words. The speckled monochromatic Gryphon had been pacing for the past half hour as he discussed his concerns with his superior.
“I thought it had been mutually agreed that we needn’t be beholden to their governmental bureaucrats.”
Sildinar pinched the feathers above the bridge of his beak in frustration, “We also agreed to the list of candidates the Humans put forward. None of them went against any of our qualifications. Technically they are *all* fine veteran soldiers, and brave people. They are all good candidates.”
Kephic turned and splayed out his wings in excitement, filling half of the small meeting room and nearly upending a computer terminal.
“Exactly! So why can’t they live with being pushed back one slot, so that a soldier who helped make this possible can be a part of it? What is a few months to them?”
Sildinar shook his head, “It’s not that simple to the Humans. They want...” he cocked his head, as if listening to a voice only he could hear, an expression Gryphons frequently wore when searching for something recently learned.
“...Their phrase is ‘poster boys,’ they want a batch of poster boys. Then after them will doubtless come a long line of applicants. The problem with Wrenn is that he represents a major issue of contention for them. Because of his implants.”
Kephic cursed silently, “They would push him out of the program because of his implants?”
Sildinar nodded, “From my understanding of it through the informal conversations I’ve had with the Earthgov council, implanting technology in people that provides a survival edge is extremely controversial. Nearly as much as conversion. They are worried that combining the two issues in one inevitably very public persona, with a history steeped in secret, blood soaked military operations, will lead to a backlash.”
Kephic snorted. “They could stand to learn some tolerance for change. Within a century their only options will be either change, or death.”
Sildinar inclined his head, “They have already suffered much, and adapted well. We can’t begrudge them their quirks, not after everything they’ve survived, and especially not after what happened when they tried to leverage this technology in their past. The fact is that we agreed to Earthgov’s candidate list.”
The two Gryphons stood in silence, both acknowledging that they would never break a promise, even if it seemed justified, without the other party having first crossed a line. Humanity hadn’t done anything to warrant such a breach of trust. If anything they had proven to be fairly relatable, especially outside political circles.
Sildinar shifted uncomfortably, “Let’s wait and see how things play out. Keep in mind that I have considerable influence with regards to this. My father may well find a good opportunity to get Lieutenant Wrenn a slot in the program without causing undue conflict.”
Wrenn scratched his head and stared at the holotank.
“Reset simulation, re-play from two minutes and twelve seconds. Half speed.”
He had spent most of his morning hours in one of the Bureau's classrooms. He had needed a sufficiently large holotank, and most of the meeting rooms were booked solid. The lights were dimmed, casting shadows on the brightly colored chairs potential converts would usually occupy. The AI he had tied into the tank’s controls warbled softly as it acknowledged his order.
Wrenn watched as a lifelike 3D image of an armored maglev sprang into motion, gliding down a set of elevated tracks. The explosion that had derailed the train had been caught by half a dozen traffic and security cameras, and the train’s own black-box had provided a wealth of kinetic impact data.
ConSec was, of course, pursuing their own investigation, but they had their hands and hooves full examining enemy corpses, trying to trace weapon serial numbers few as they were, and reassembling the fragments of the actual bomb.
“Hold.” The hologram froze. Wrenn stepped slowly around the tank, glaring at the stanchions of the elevated track. “Re-factor simulation based on materials data for the duracrete buttresses.”
“Retrieving data... Retrieved. Ready.” The AI’s female voice was, to Wrenn, disturbingly calm and inflection-less.
“Continue simulation, one quarter real-time speed.”
The train inched forward until it reached the fateful point. A bloom of orange and red expanded from a spot somewhere under the front car. As Wrenn watched, it threw the train, burned twisted and half melted, to street level taking pieces of the elevated track with it. The train’s momentum kept it spinning and skidding until it finally lost the battle with friction and came to a stop in a burning field of rubble covering a city block.
“Return to the point of explosion, step forward one tenth of a second, and hold.”
Wrenn stared into the frozen beginnings of the explosion, trying to divine answers to the questions plaguing him.
Why would someone so well prepared and so well informed make such a sloppy mess of an otherwise simple train heist? Surely they had known the potion crate was capable of enduring far far more punishment. They could have simply hit the train with enough explosives to kill everyone inside a dozen times over and picked the blackened but unharmed crate from the wreckage.
Given what had happened Wrenn saw only three possibilities. Firstly that the attackers had suffered internal sabotage. He marked that down as the least likely candidate. Secondly that there had been a malfunction; It happened to even the most prepared military unit so of course it could happen to terrorists, and certainly had in the past.
Lastly, the smaller blast could have been intentional.
The final option appealed to Wrenn’s instincts the most, but he had no logical legs to stand it on.
He stroked his chin and thought out loud, “Why leave us alive? No... Why leave the Gryphons alive? They intended for the humans to die. That's obvious, given the use of an explosive device. The Gryphons can open the box, and our attackers can not... But why wouldn’t they kill us all and force it open? Even a potion crate isn’t impenetrable given time...”
And then it hit him, “....Unless it's set-up to self destruct in the event of a forced entry. Which means destroying it wasn't enough. They wanted the potion fully intact--- ”
Wrenn didn’t even take the time to finish the thought. He bolted from the classroom, nearly knocking over several newfoals as he barreled down the corridor to the elevator. He skidded into the lift and barked “Level eight!” All the elevators in the bureau had voice control, for the benefit of the non-unicorn ponies.
The lift whisked up silently and deposited Wrenn on the eighth floor. Everything from level 8, and above in the central complex was administrative offices and meeting rooms. Wrenn careened around the corners, his boots barely gaining enough traction from the crimson and beige carpet to keep him from skidding into the wall.
He finally arrived at his destination and rapped furiously on the door.
The slab of frosted glass framed in aluminum slid back and Kephic’s head poked out, “This is not a particularly good time. Several specialists from ConSec are presenting forensic findings.”
Wrenn leaned in and whispered vehemently, “I found something! It's a potential lead.”
Kephic glanced over his shoulder, then slid out into the corridor letting the door close behind him.
Wrenn tapped the side of his head, “We’ve been going at this entirely the wrong way.”
Kephic huffed, “No need to tell me, I think I’ll stress-molt if I have to bear one more brainstorming session in there.”
“We have been asking ourselves who attacked us and assuming that once we know, we can divine their exact motives and means. But we should be asking ourselves what the motive was, and letting that lead us to who and how.”
Kephic nodded once sharply.
Wrenn continued, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.
“I went back over the explosion data, and it occurred to me that the device had to be placed very specifically and brought to a precise charge to get the effect we saw. Any smaller and the train would have plowed through it. Any larger and we all would have died. Further up the track and the train would have been too close to the Bureau to risk a raid. Further back and we could have called on the VTOLs for fast air support.”
Kephic nodded again, “The same line of thought occurred to me, but I haven’t had time to pursue it further.”
Wrenn began to pace as he continued, “Then let’s walk through my chain of reasoning. If we assume that the explosion was targeted so precisely we must also assume that the suicide bomber was a planned part of the ambush rather than a half-baked fail-safe. This leads us to motive; They wanted the potion, and they wanted it intact. If they had killed you and Sildinar and Varan, then no one could have opened the crate without triggering its self destruct. They knew you couldn’t be coerced by traditional means so they hoped to shoehorn you into a given path by holding your morals and ethics hostage.”
Kephic’s eyes went wide, “Are you suggesting---?”
Wrenn turned sharply, “I’m suggesting they knew this was more than just a secure shipment. I’m suggesting they knew precisely where, when, and how hard to hit us to achieve the desired effect. I’m suggesting they came very close to getting what they wanted, and I’m suggesting that the only way that’s possible is if we have a mole.”
Kephic stared at the wall, his mind doubtless running the numbers, comparing his thoughts to Wrenn’s, and forming conclusions. He spoke, slowly at first, then with more surety.
“It... would have been nearly impossible to keep the operation a total secret... We did preempt civilian train traffic, and our presence caused quite a stir on the station platform. However my instincts tell me that you are correct. Certain details are too convenient. ” The Gryphon paused and continued mulling before starting to pace himself, “Let me handle this. Your position is already tenuous.”
Wrenn laughed, a harsh sardonic chuckle, “My position? I’m grasping at straws, that’s my position.”
Kephic inclined his head, “That may be, but Sildinar has connections which might enable us to help you. Don’t place yourself in the line of fire unnecessarily.”
He must have caught Wrenn’s expression because he added, “I can make no promises however.”
“Well, I trust your judgement. Keep me in the loop?”
“Of course. Unofficially.”
Wrenn nodded and set off back to the lift, as Kephic turned to re-enter the conference room Wrenn tossed back over his shoulder, “Knock 'em dead.”
“Is there any other way?”
Downtown Philadelphia; Towering skyscrapers, glittering lights, and the hum of six and a half million people going about their daily lives. The city was known worldwide as a popular retirement destination for the wealthy upper class; Its many synthetic plasti-gardens and holo-illusion parks helped residents feel as though they might be living on a green verdant planet, as long as they did not too closely examine the imagery for its flaws and shortcomings.
One of the largest new attractions was the Liberty Bell Tower, a freshly minted one thousand seven hundred and seventy six foot high skyscraper. The structure was cylindrical, with an open air atrium in the center going from the ground all the way up to one thousand four hundred feet. The top three hundred and seventy six feet of the tower were shaped like a large bell, rather than the traditional flat or conical roof, to commemorate the artifact held within.
Eight thousand lucky people had managed to secure VIP passes to the opening ceremony, during which a holographic one-to-one replica of the actual Liberty Bell, crack and all, would be rung for all to hear. It was heralded as a momentous commemoration of freedom and accomplishments past.
Guest number seven thousand eight hundred and twenty nine looked down on the proceedings from a balcony, within the internal structure of the tower, with a decidedly different perspective.
He smiled and sighed softly, “Oh how I wish I could join them.” he turned to his assistant, a stunningly violet female unicorn with a luxurious, sparkling navy mane that appeared almost black against the lights of the tower.
She looked up from her work and smiled, “One day you will join us. As you always told me, have faith and patience. Someday Celestia herself will be able to shed the political guises and grant us reward for the work we’ve done.”
The man smiled warmly, “Veritas my love, you always know just what to say. Are we ready to begin?” She nodded. “Very well, let the ceremonies commence.”
“Welcome to the Liberty Bell Tower’s first annual celebration of freedom!”
Thunderous applause from the assembled guests and dignitaries greeted the announcer’s words.
“The United States may be a thing of the past, but the ideals of freedom that her founding fathers espoused live on in our unified Earth Government. Together, we---”
“Oh very touching. Such well crafted words, designed to evoke the jingoistic nostalgia of a 'better' time.”
The second voice took everyone by surprise as it boomed over the loudspeakers. The announcer tried in vain to speak into his microphone, but the system had already been completely preempted.
The new voice continued, “Its a pity the ideals of true peace, and freedom, have long been committed to history. Replaced by our corruption, our greed, and our cynicism. I ask you, assembled guests and honored dignitaries, do you truly see a future for us on our current path? Will words, and steel, and glass, and holograms of the past really solve the problems we have brought upon ourselves?”
Security had already begun canvassing the building by the time the voice reached a pause. The technician in charge of ceremonies tried to shut off the PA speakers, but the digital fuse system wouldn’t respond.
The voice went on unabated as a nervous murmur swept the crowd, “I am here tonight, my fellow man, to bring you a gift beyond comparison. To free you of the burdens of your nature, to instill in you something new, and bright, and true. You came here under the lure of a vapid and substance-less promise, and you will be granted something far greater. You shall be reborn in light!”
An armed security squad burst onto one of the upper balconies to find a large smooth silver cylinder with blinking purple lights thrumming on the floor. It took the lead squad-man only a moment to see, beyond the cylinder, a DaTab jacked into the building’s wired communications lines through a floor panel, receiving an open comm line.
The voice spoke once more. Only three words, “Let Freedom Ring.”
There was a whine, a flash, and for seven thousand nine hundred ninety nine guests, and two hundred security personnel, the world turned purple.
Wrenn yawned as he stepped into the communal dining area. He had his heart set on a sandwich, coffee, and an early bedtime. His mind was so distracted that it took him several seconds to get off autopilot and notice the pervasive silence in the room.
Humans and ponies alike had ceased all activity and were clustered around a bank of holo-monitors on the far wall.
Wrenn set down his half-filled plate and moved quietly to join them.
His ears finally began to make sense of the news anchor’s voice, “...Are telling us that over eight thousand people may have been affected. The area is under strict military quarantine and no one has entered or left....”
On the screen Wrenn recognized an image of the new Liberty Bell Tower, surrounded by VTOLs and emergency vehicles forming a wide four block perimeter.
His stomach flipped.
Eight thousand people. Military quarantine. A major televised event with comparatively little security... The converts-to-be and newfoals alike were too riveted to the newscast to notice as Wrenn dashed from the room, coffee and sandwich long since forgotten.
He arrived in the ConSec wing of the bureau to find the entire floor in a state of organized chaos.
The main situation holo monitor was firmly fixed on a sat-map of Philadelphia, with the screes ringing it tuned to various news sources. Everywhere humans and ponies were dashing back and forth with DaTabs shouting out reports across the room as they scrambled to make sense of the situation.
Among the press of distressed personnel Wrenn just barely managed to pick out Kephic, Varan, Sildinar, and the ConSec section commander. He forced his way through the crisscrossing streams of bodies to stand with them before the situation display. It was the only clear space in the entire room.
“What just happened?” Wrenn managed to gasp out as he tried to make sense of the data flowing across the screen.
Kephic's response was clipped, and edged with anger, “There was an attack.”
The ConSec commander interjected, “PER. Hit us with something we’ve never seen before. The preliminary reports are....”
“Staggering.” Varan finished his hanging sentence for him.
The commander allowed another moment to pass in silence before raising his voice.
“Alright everyone LISTEN UP! We’ve just experienced a level ten event, I want ALL decontamination teams prepped and ready for VTOL in twenty minutes. Security teams one through five, eight through twelve, and fifteen; Prepare to accompany them. As of now, twenty four seven tactical readiness. Nobody goes home until this is dealt with, call in everyone who isn’t already here. All support staff, find a space and make yourself useful. I want a logistics chain set up between here and Philly by the end of the hour, they're going to be overwhelmed already, and we are the regional operations hub. Pulling them out of this soup falls to us.
MAKE IT HAPPEN PEOPLE!”
The commander turned to the Gryphons, “Much as I hate to admit it, we could sure use your help.”
Sildinar nodded, speaking for all of them, “We are happy to assist.”
Wrenn stepped forward, “I’m going as well.”
For a moment he was sure the commander would tell him to bug out, but to his surprise the man simply inclined his head,
“We need all hands on deck, yours included. You trained in decon protocol?”
Wrenn shrugged, “I had an accelerated course once.”
“Close enough for government work. And besides, someone has to keep an eye on them...” He jerked his thumb at the Gryphons, then ndoded towards Wrenn.
“Suit up lieutenant.”
“Yes Commander.”
The man offered a wry smile, “Call me Hutch. Formality went the way of sleep ten minutes ago.”
The VTOL pitched wildly to avoid a passing Scythe. Wrenn clutched at his safety harness to avoid an embarrassing tumble through the cabin as the roar of the passing jet penetrated the hull of the craft for a brief moment.
Once the VTOL was stable again, a tech working on one of the forward computer stations started speaking into the comm channel.
“This is a level ten event, all quarantine procedures are in effect. Scans show air quality is normal, no residuals, but we’re playing this one safe. Be advised there is a likelihood of active potion on the ground and the victims. Nobody removes their hazmat components until the all clear is sounded, and you pass through decontamination. All team members are expected to be geared up with appropriate emergency equipment. Masks on!”
Wrenn reached up and yanked the re-breather mask down until it locked into place with his helmet. The telltale hiss and a small green light informed him that the system was sealed, working, and ready. Through the small thick window he could see the Gryphons, flying in formation alongside the VTOL.
All were wearing their usual armor, none were wearing hazmat gear. Not even so much as a mask.
Wrenn tapped his mic to cycle to a local channel, “You guys sure you don’t need masks?”
Varan’s voice came back across the line, “We’re immune to both magical and technological transformation of any kind.”
Wrenn sat back and whistled to himself, “You’d think they might put that somewhere in the manual.”
“Manual?”
He hadn’t realized the channel was still open, “Never mind. Turn-of-phrase.”
The VTOL swept in for a full speed lateral landing at the base of the tower. The instant the vehicle was close enough to the ground, the doors popped open and ConSec troops poured out in wedge formation. Wrenn was next to last out, his lack of ConSec rank and his shoulder injury precluded him from taking point in a squad. Technically he had been told he was there as ‘an informed military grade consultant.’
Around the perimeter the same routine was taking place with practiced regularity. VTOLs touched down and departed in swift cadence, emergency vehicles pulled around the road barricades with all sirens blazing, and screeched towards the scene. Somewhere above Wrenn detected the dull thrum of a larger support airship hovering near the top of the tower.
Even though the clock had struck 2300 local time, the area was lit up like broad daylight by hundreds of flood lights, headlights, and landing lights.
Everywhere the eye could see, ConSec troops, hazmat personnel, and med techs in isolation suits were milling about.
It wasn’t so much a rescue or cleanup mission, Wrenn realized. It was full on panic in the face of Armageddon. He marched purposefully towards the forward command tent, where Kephic and Sildinar were already in an animated discussion with the Philadelphia ConSec commander.
“What do we know?”
Kephic turned to face him, “So far? Troublingly little. PER detonated some sort of high dispersion potion delivery device. According to the division commander your records show nothing like it has ever been seen in past attacks.”
Wrenn shook his head, “As far as we know, there is no way to disperse that much gas ideally throughout such a huge space, especially since this particular gas congeals within seconds. It's why the Trafalgar attacks only claimed just over four thousand people even though there were eleven thousand present.”
The division commander, a tall redheaded woman with a fierce stare, eyed Wrenn suspiciously, “Who is he?”
Kephic stepped in, “A consultant. He has military special operations experience and is read in on several related high clearance matters. We needed all the extra personnel we could get.”
She gave Wrenn the evil eye for several more seconds, before acquiescing, “If you fly-boys can vouch for him that's good enough. We need everyone to pull through this.”
Sildinar stepped to the tent entrance, “Then we will perform first recon given our unique protection. Lieutenant Wrenn? We will inform you once the area is secure.”
Abruptly Wrenn found himself alone with yet another surly commander who didn’t want to deal with him. He wondered if the day could possibly get any worse.
“So. Is there anything I can do to help?”
The commander looked up from her holo-table, Wrenn noted her surname, ‘Aston,’ stitched above her front left pocket.
“Actually yeah. Get out there and see if you can find out why the crystallization teams are late reporting in. If you see them, send them south to the secondary entrances and tell them we’re planning a type three breaching action in fifteen minutes.”
Wrenn stood for a moment, processing the order, then reflexively snapped off a salute, “On it.”
He found the teams several minutes later, scrambling to repair a broken containment tank.
Wrenn didn’t know much about crystallization, but he did know enough about logistics to realize that the defective tank was causing more trouble as wasted time than as a wasted resource.
He eventually convinced the team to abandon the tank and get to positions.
As the white suited men and ponies with a distinctive blue and amber triangular emblem on their sleeves bolted for cover positions, Wrenn found himself caught up in the breaching action. Technically he knew he was supposed to remain outside until the area was secure, but the crystallization team had no escort, so he decided that would be his job, in lieu of anything else.
The commander’s voice crackled over his headset, “Breaching action is GO!”
The rush was instantaneous. Wrenn knew the feeling well, the moment when anxiety, caution, and basic emotion shut down and combat reflexes took over. He vaulted from his cover point and kicked in the side access door. As he swept the room with his implants he noticed an almost complete lack of movement. A few bodies lay on the floor, breathing shallow but regular breaths. Pony bodies.
“Clear,” Wrenn barked into his headset.
The crystallization team streamed into the room. One of the men shouted, “We have live goo over here!”
A suited unicorn pony with a large tank strapped to his back trotted over. His horn glowed and a spray nozzle detached itself from the tank. Wrenn watched in fascination as the nozzle opened and sprayed a fine colorless mist towards the congealed glob of purple potion on the floor.
Within seconds the mist had coated the potion and hardened into a quartz-like crystalline surface, with a vague amber sheen. Once the room was certified safe, med techs scrambled to attend to the ponified guests. Wrenn continued to stand, staring at the frenzied activity in shock.
It had finally hit him. The sheer magnitude of eight thousand people.
Wrenn didn’t think poorly of ponification. He more or less supported the concept, and he believed it was a much better future than being dissolved by the barrier. Anything was better than extinction, as far as he was concerned, and the life of a Pony was no step down in his estimation.
But being forced to change species without even a say in the matter?
The thought made him physically ill.
He forced himself to abandon philosophical considerations until a later time. The mission had to come first.
Wrenn raised his rifle and advanced down the corridor, implants primed to warn him of even the slightest exhalation. He could see that the carpet was supposed to be a deep shade of blue with maroon stripes, but in the low lighting anything beyond his feet was rendered entirely in digital blues.
Room by room, floor by floor, the ConSec teams cleared the tower.
All told there were eight thousand one hundred and ninety nine casualties. All converted. No one had escaped the serum. The only trace the PER had left behind was a smooth metal cylinder, and a DaTab plugged into the main PA lines, which had since automatically wiped its drives.
Hazmat protocol was still in effect until crystallization teams declared the site safe, at which point the victims would be evacuated to Conversion Bureaus and forensics teams would swarm the building hoping, against all odds, for a shred of evidence.