//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Hegira: Option Gamma // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// “That did not go well.” “It could have gone worse.” “True enough.” The young man sipped his synth-beer thoughtfully, then cast an appreciative glance at the violet unicorn beside him. “We did at least gain something by our efforts.” Veritas smiled coyly, “You mean aside from the eight thousand souls we delivered?” The man inclined his head, “Yes. Beyond that.” He stared up at a broken faux-wood ceiling fan and mused quietly, slowly running his hand back and forth through his jet black short hair. Veritas allowed him time to collect his thoughts. She enjoyed watching him while he was thinking about what to say. She liked to imagine she could see the words swirling around his head in groups, forming artful patterns before his gray eyes. For a long time the only sounds were the low hum of patrons’ voices, the dull clink of glasses as the bartender poured drinks and cleaned dishes, and, detectable only to Veritas and her equine ears, the soft whine of the muted holo-screen above the bar as it silently cycled between sporting events, and news of the attacks in Philadelphia and New York. Finally the young man spoke again, “What we failed to gain in knowledge, we recouped in image. When you and I came on the scene the movement was a shambles, no organization, no vision, no technology, and no funds. But they had the spirit for the job; their hearts belonged to Celestia and, more than that, they sought what we seek. That the hearts of all should belong to her. In just two years we’ve gone from that, to this...” He gestured up at the holo-screen, which was replaying now overused footage of the Liberty Bell Tower. He set down his beer and turned to face the unicorn, “We have the capability now to fight them on their terms. To show them the error in their ways through fear and respect. In the coming weeks what story will the media tell? Perhaps they will try to portray us as monsters robbing people of their free will but I think that humanity does, at least, have enough of the quality of discernment to see through the propaganda. They will understand. They will realize that we are only trying to speed on the inevitable so that no one need die when the end comes for Earth. Our government may have corrupted the Conversion Bureaus and sided with these new monsters from beyond Celestia’s realm, but they are still eminently predictable in their evil.” Veritas raised a quizzical eyebrow. The man continued, “They won’t dare to make a trial run of their new serum now. The initial backlash against conversion caused by the attack will scare the publicists and politicians too much. By the time they realize that the end result of our campaign brings not fear, but joy to people, it will be too late for them to see that their own Bureaus have become our greatest tools for change, and that their best chance to show off their ‘alternative option’ has passed.” Veritas stared up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the low off-yellow lighting. “Truly Celestia has given you a gift for words.” The man smiled, “Soon enough we will put it to use once again.” From beneath the surface, the Atlantic ocean seemed no different than it had for countless hundreds of thousands of eons. Dark blue water, filtering out light and heat, growing ever more spectacular in its crushing pressure as it dove to depths as deep as the atmosphere was thick, and further. It was only when one could see the surface, or the sea floor, that there was be any indication as to how dead the vast expanse of water truly was. No fish, very little kelp, barely any microorganisms. Global ecological collapse had done what centuries of garbage, chemical poison, and invasive species had never quite fully accomplished; it had truly killed the ocean. Captain Elridge decided it was fitting, then, that the Atlantic had become the focal point for planetary rebirth. Barely three miles beyond the hull of his battleship, the glimmering barrier between normal space-time, and Equestria, was slowly growing. Millimeter by millimeter. Ever since that day just over a decade ago, when the world had shook, the poles had flipped, and a land mass the size of Texas had sprung into existence midway between Europe and the Americas. Captain Elridge wasn’t privy to all the physics, few were; but somehow only Equestrian species and materials seemed to be able to transit the barrier safely. Any human, or originally Earthen synthetic or complex material, crossing the barrier at any point, would suffer a violent fate; the Thaumatically charged nature of the Equestrian universe simply didn’t play well with the quantum signature of the universe as humanity knew it. Even radio waves couldn’t cross the barrier. After discovering this scientists had attempted quantum entanglement, but they always ran into the same issue. The second half of the entangled pair never survived barrier transit. “Bring us up, five degree elevation. Recalibrate bow planes and prepare to surface.” The helmsman snapped out, “Up five degrees, Aye. Recalibrating bow planes, all hands prepare to switch to surface configuration. Secure all stations.” This communications blackout was the reason Elridge and his ship were here. Apparently someone very very high up in the Equestrian hierarchy needed to speak with someone in New York, and couldn’t wait for one of the daily messengers. The UES Tohoku would provide a quickly accessible secure communications relay. The XO braced himself against an upright console, as a three tone alarm sounded, and called out, “Surfacing! standby for level one operations, honor detail to pre-posts. Open the hatches.” As the ship broke the surface, displacing enough water to fill three hundred olympic pools, the plating over the windows and weapons ports retracted in sequence. This was always a satisfying moment to Elridge; so many personnel and machines working in perfect harmony. His ship. The communications officer rattled off instructions and information in her staccato Russian accent, “Sat vision 44, downlink from Central Command established. Orders are to proceed to designated pickup site three and hold steady to receive envoys. Honor detail to the landing pads, Escorts 06, 07, 08, you are cleared forward for sequential launch, maintain minimum safe barrier distance.” Elridge peered out the main window just in time to catch the faint glimmer of three F-A26 engines racing off into the distance. The stealth fighters were all but invisible at this hour of night. These days every type of naval vessel, destroyer size and above, carried at least one embarked VSTOL fighter. The Tohoku had eight, plus four VTOL gunships. His XO, a taller man from South Africa, joined him at the window. “Sir. Any new information?” Elridge shook his head, “Only confirming what we already knew; whatever the last daily messenger took over apparently caused quite a stir, and now a major dignitary wants radio comms with Manhattan.” the XO’s eyes widened slightly, “So we’re going to play host to one of the royals?” Elridge shrugged, “They didn’t say.” “Well who else could it be?” “We will find out soon enough.” A voice crackled through the bridge comm speakers, “Tohoku, Escort 06; FLiR confirms you have three incoming... somethings. You should be ready to receive within sixty seconds.” As the Scythe flew a low pass over the ship, three forms materialized from the darkness and alighted on the ship’s rear VTOL pad. The XO pressed a hand to the window and stared, “I have to admit... I didn’t see that coming.” “Two dead, forty seven severely wounded, more than eight *thousand* converted forcibly... millions of dollars of damage... gentlemen... this was an unmitigated disaster.” For a long moment nobody spoke. Sildinar, Kephic, Varan, Wrenn, Commander Hutch, the head of the Bureau (whom Wrenn had learned was named Golden Sunbeam, but apparently she preferred Mrs. Sunbeam) and dozens of high ranking officers, scientists, and the heads of the medical department were all seated around the long granite topped table. At the head of the table Earthgov councilor Mathas Korvan stood in his impeccable cream colored suit. His hand rested on a matching fedora that occupied his space on the table; the hat was making quite a comeback in socialite and political circles. His balding head was framed by the backlighting of the holoscreen that dominated the main wall. The ceiling-to-floor bank of windows that looked out over lower Manhattan were tinted to full opacity. Councilor Korvan continued, “The public backlash to conversion is going to be severe, and the blame points squarely to us. This was a major failing on your part.” Predictably, Kephic did not react well. He stood, looming tall despite having chosen to stand on all fours. “Failing? We prevented the unavoidable catastrophe in Philadelphia from spiraling out of control. We saved this very bureau with minimal damage and loss, we prevented a hostile well prepared enemy force from acquiring highly valuable secrets, and we did all this with only two deaths. Perhaps it has been a nightmare, perhaps the results are a mess, but were it not for us...” Kephic gestured to Varan and Sildinar, “...and your own fine warriors...” he gestured to the rest of the table, “...you would now be facing an unthinkable scenario.” The Gryphon’s voice dipped low, an ominous edge crept into the words, “You owe them everything, the least you can do is thank them.” Another awkward silence descended on the room. The humans and ponies both understood the concept of delicate political maneuvering, or at the very least civility. Clearly Kephic was more a fan of candor, regardless of who he was speaking to. It took councilor Korvan a long moment to collect himself. He was even less used to the idea of such bald faced honesty than everyone else, and he was intimidated by Kephic, though he was doing his dead level best not to show it. “I don’t know how much or how little experience you’ve had with our politics, but I would advise you to practice a little harder before addressing a representative of Earthgov that way again.” Kephic glared, and Korvan took a halting step back, the Gryphon’s voice rang out, level and measured with each word, “And I would advise you to practice a little harder at earning the respect you seem to think that title affords you. Maybe words and prefixes and such grant power in your world, but where I come from leadership is earned, or it is taken away. By force if necessary. If you aren’t going to ascribe us the thanks we deserve then I am leaving, because I certainly have no obligation to stand here while you babble inane insults to cover your own cowardly hindquarters.” Kephic turned and walked slowly, deliberately, from the room. In the stunned silence that followed Varan got up, shrugged, and did the same. Sildinar’s face bore a calm collected expression, but Wrenn suspected he was more than a little perturbed beneath his well constructed demeanor. Councilor Korvan shifted his gaze to Sildinar, “I presume you have something to say to me about the conduct of your soldiers?” Sildinar paused then looked up, “Only that I completely agree with every word they said. Just not with their choice of timing.” Korvan shook his head in disdain and returned to the head of the table, then looked to Hutch, “Where are we with the two prisoners your men secured?” The commander muttered something inaudible before speaking, “The two PER scumbags that Sildinar and Kephic tagged ‘n bagged...” Wrenn noticed that Hutch intentionally emphasized the Gryphon’s names, “...they’re as useful as bumps on a log. As far as our lie detection software, qualified Unicorn magicians, and the Gryphons can tell, they know nothing but their own specific orders to break in and plant that dispersion cylinder. Apparently the PER is keeping things very cellular.” Korvan grunted, “As of now, I want ConSec tasked twenty-four-seven with finding and eliminating the terrorists responsible for the attack. Gather other leads if necessary, call for whatever resources you want, but get me their heads on a plate. Yesterday. They kicked in our front door, and nearly walked out with a supposedly secure crate. I don’t buy the mole rumors going around, so step up your drills while you’re at it. As for the new batch of potion... That needs to be delayed until the backlash from all of this subsides. Now is not a good time to rock the boat.” Sildinar shook his head, “No. You agreed fully to the terms of our accords, and the timing of this was mutually voted on, and selected by a majority.” Korvan nodded, “Of course of course. But there is room in the accords for changes to plans in order to effect mutual benefits. If you want to forge ahead, by all means proceed. But because your thoughtless action would place Earthgov under a great deal of pressure you must understand that it would introduce inherent.... instability... into the accords.” “Gentlemen ENOUGH.” The deep but distinctly feminine voice brought the room to an absolute standstill. Wrenn could barely resist a chuckle as Mrs. Sunbeam stood up. He knew she had reminded him of a school teacher. “This pointless bickering is doing nothing but wasting valuable time. We have common problems and a common enemy, and we are all under far too much stress. I propose we not make any decisions in the heat of the moment and instead take some time to think this through.” Hutch stood as well, “Agreed. Also I could use some lunch.” With that the tension broke, at least partially, and everyone began to exit the room en masse, breaking off into groups of two and three headed back to their posts, or to find a midday meal. Wrenn did his best to get out as quickly as possible, but Councilor Korvan managed to lay a hand on his shoulder before he could make it through the door. “Isaac. You’re looking well.” Wrenn steeled himself and turned to shake Mathas’ hand. “You too. How is the council treating you?” “Well enough. This is going to be a political shit-storm, but like all things it will eventually blow over. How are the eyes?” “Working decently, for not being able to really ‘see’ much of anything.” Korvan sighed, “Well, you know how much I appreciate what you sacrificed for me, but I will say it again; Thank you for what you did that day.” “Just doing my duty sir.” Wrenn stiffened reflexively, the old military parade pose coming back naturally. Korvan chuckled, “Always the modest one weren’t you? Listen... Wrenn... what do you think of our new... partners, in the Conversion Bureau initiative?” Wrenn realized he was talking about the Gryphons and struggled to find a response that wouldn’t upset either of them. Finally he settled on, “I think they don’t have much of a taste for our brand of politics.” Korvan raised his eyebrows, “No it would seem they don’t. Isaac I wonder if I might ask a simple favor of you. For old times’ sake.” Wrenn offered no response. He didn’t like where the conversation was headed in the slightest. “Wrenn, I need you to look into these guys. Find out how they tick, build me a... well a sort of informal psych profile. Anything useful you could dig up on them while you’re at it would sure make my job easier. They don’t respect the system, not as we know it, and I can’t just let the kind of instability they’re introducing run amok in the halls of power. You understand?” Wrenn shifted uncomfortably, “Look sir... I doubt I’m going to be here long enough to do that. The Indianapolis ships out at the end of the week and there’s no reason for me not to be on her as per usual. I’ve long overstayed my ‘medical leave.’” Councilor Korvan shrugged and placed his hat on his head with dignified and deliberate precision, “Let me know if you change your mind. I can always fast track a transfer if you’d like to give up special forces for ConSec.” “I’ll keep that in mind sir.” “Please do.” With that Korvan left Wrenn alone in the room as the windows slowly un-tinted to let in the foggy morning vista. Wrenn brought his lunch tray over to the table and slumped into the off-white seamless shaped plastic of the ergonomic chair. He, the Gryphons, and commander Hutch had taken to sitting together for lunch after the attack. During mealtime there we no ranks, and no positions. Just soldiers united by shared experiences, common viewpoints, and common enemies. Hutch started the conversation, “That was worse than slip ‘n sliding through a potion covered room with raving lunatics trying to gun you down.” Wrenn whistled, “You said it. Some days, I wish I’d just let him take that grenade and melt. He stopped me afterwards. Wanted me to essentially spy on you guys,” he looked at each of the Gryphons in turn, “and help him dig up something he could use to stonewall you.” Kephic growled, Varan made no sound, but his expression could have melted steel. He had finally convinced the nurse to let him remove his head bandages, and even though the cuts and deep gashes were no longer visible under his feathers they were still bothering him, making his mood worse than usual. Even the corners of Sildinar’s beak turned down visibly. He sipped a large cup of what Wrenn assumed was coffee and spoke, “I presume you didn’t accept his offer?” Wrenn nodded, “I was as noncommittal as possible. Id've loved to tell him to stick his offer in that shiny hat and shove it as far up his nether regions as his head would fit, but that wouldn’t do my career any favors and we could kiss any chance of getting me a slot for potion goodbye.” Varan leaned forward, “Speaking of the subject; we had hoped to tell you this earlier...” Kephic interjected, “Back when it was all good news...” “...we managed to persuade one of our superiors with sufficient rank to side with you. Hopefully he has enough pull to get you a slot for the new potion.” Wrenn’s fork fell out of his hand, “You... persuaded a superior? meaning?” Kephic gestured to Sildinar, “Meaning he personally vouched for you to his father. The king.” Wrenn’s eyes would have tripled in size if they could, “Your father is.... and you never....? I.... I’m not sure what to say....” Sildinar inclined his head, “ ‘Thank you’ would suffice, although a promise to support us when the time comes would not go amiss.” Wrenn nodded vigorously, “You don’t even have to ask. Thank you.” Hutch ripped into his sandwich, chewed for a moment, then swallowed loudly, “If you’re all done being sentimental, we need to figure out how we’re going to send this clown packing and get back to business as usual.” Wrenn glanced over to the commander, “Carefully. He got where he is by being a master manipulator and a darn good spin artist.” “Spin artist?” Varan said it with the annoyed tone of voice reserved for someone who is engaging in an irritation they have long since been asked to cease. “Sorry... Spin Artist; as in someone who excels at twisting people’s viewpoints on a situation to benefit themselves, their agenda, and their image.” Kephic cocked his head, “So... a professional liar?” Wrenn chuckled, “Something like that.” Hutch grunted, “I don’t like the politics game, and from what I gather neither do any of you, but unfortunately it looks like we have to play this guy on his home field.” Wrenn shuddered, “And he has the deck stacked.” Varan groaned, “If your kind would publish a dictionary of references, metaphors, and cultural know-how it would benefit us greatly.” Kephic turned to his companion and displayed an expression midway between smirk and quizzical stare, “You mean to say you haven’t tried out their ‘internet’ ?” Varan harrumphed, “I haven’t had a great deal of time. I actually like to maintain a sane rest and sleep schedule.” Sildinar smiled, “You should give it a chance. It's one of their most incredible cultural and technological achievements.” “Oh not you too...” Wrenn laughed, “In all seriousness. How do we even this fight up? Korvan has a lot of pull, but he’s just one of two hundred and eighteen councilors that make up the top tier of Earthgov. Right now he’s got all the power over this situation merely because no one else wants to touch it. Its ‘toxic’ right now, but his specialty is handling the toxic stuff and turning it into another asset in his arsenal. We have to get at least one other councilor involved, preferably one who’s part of an opposing party and wants an opportunity to take a shot at him. After that the others will reassert their support.” Kephic sighed and bit a strip off his meat, “And how do you propose to do that?” Wrenn shrugged, “I have no earthly idea. But we only have a few days. If he doesn’t tear the accords apart first, then I’m being shipped back out. I could always accept his offer but I really don’t like to dance with the devil. I prefer the straightforward shotgun method.” “So. You boys sound like you could do with some help?” Everyone turned in tandem to see the source of the new voice. Hutch broke into a smile, “Laura! Its good to see you. What are you doing here?” “Hand delivering the Philadelphia report. Probably getting busted back down to lieutenant for the mess. Sounds like we have a problem with the same shady cream colored jack-a---” Wrenn stood up, his chair making a loud scraping noise on the tiled floor and cutting off the end of Laura’s sentence, “Nice to see you again Commander Aston. I hope you didn’t miss the VTOLs we commandeered too badly.” The Philadelphia ConSec commander glared at him, then her face melted into a slight grin, “I’ve decided I like this guy Hutch. Where did you find him?” “Kephic over there dragged him in here with a hole the size of New Roanoke in his shoulder and a concussion that would’ve cracked granite.” Laura nodded, “Well that's good, because if you gentlemen want my help you’re going to need a thick skull and a good heavy dose of stubborn-as-a-mule; this won’t be easy.” Hutch leaned over, “What’s your play?” Laura smiled conspiratorially, “I thought I’d phone a friend.” Varan pinched the bridge of his beak, “Please don’t tell me... Another reference?” After a round of debriefings with Earthgov military advisors, Wrenn was nearly spent. Nevertheless he made time to drop by Sildinar’s ‘office’ before clocking out and crashing in his quarters. The Gryphon had been given an office like all high level Bureau personnel, but he had chosen to turn the space into something of a conference room for his entire team. Wrenn found him with Kephic hunched over a holo monitor manipulating a keyboard at breakneck speed as the speckled black and white Gryphon conversed with him in low tones and pointed at items flying by. “Find anything useful?” Kephic looked up and shook his head, “I still agree with you that we have a mole...” Sildinar broke in without looking up, “...as do I, especially considering the fact that the PER had my secure crate override codes...” “...but so far whomever it is has been very very adept at covering their tracks. I wish we could bring in a real technician on this. Sildinar and I have only had a year to learn these computer systems of yours, and I don’t think we’re qualified to search them with the same eye for discrepancies as someone who has been doing it for their entire life.” “Well how about we find some time and sit down together? I may not specialize in them, but I have always been a bit more of a computer nerd than your average guy.” Sildinar nodded, still working as he did so, “Perhaps you will also be able to provide a fresh perspective as well.” “Ok. Tomorrow same time, same place?” Sildinar finally stopped and looked up, “That should work well for both of us.” Kephic jerked his head at a cup on the desk, “You might wanna bring along some coffee.” “Don’t I know it,” Wrenn managed to push out ahead of a yawn.