//------------------------------// // 28 - Discontinuity // Story: Final Solution // by Luna-tic Scientist //------------------------------// The plume from the explosion expanded in the high-altitude jet streams, spreading across hundreds and thousands of kilolengths of the northern hemisphere. The fallout was not going to be a problem, but the fine particles in the upper atmosphere were predicted to make weather control more difficult for the already stretched storm-management teams. That would be important, but not today; the focus of Orgon's attention at the moment were the other clouds. These were of water droplets rather than pulverised rock, although they glowed with a faint pastel sheen that made the fur on Orgon's neck stand up. The time-lapse video from the remaining high-altitude satellites was clear; multiple initiation points and a steady spread on the order of a hundred kilolengths a day. They also didn't move relative to the prevailing wind patterns, but stretched out into elongated tear-drop shapes centred about the original initiation points. The future projection of those unnatural clouds was clear; already the ragged edges of some were joining to their neighbours, forming an impenetrable blanket that defied remote viewing. No infrared, no synthetic aperture radar and no clairvoyance. Mass-driver lofted drones stopped transmitting within a clawful of seconds of penetrating the clouds. Radio was useless, failing immediately under conditions similar to the beta-blackout seen around atmospheric nuclear detonations, while even expensive non-causal thaumic channels provided little more than a blurred view of illuminated clouds followed by surges of power and silence. "Carrier is entering the uncontaminated cloudbank and is approaching the denied zone. Airtank outriders reporting a rise in thaumic background. Laser tightbeam links are degrading. Switching to radio; dropping frequency to improve penetration. Carrier non-causal link is nominal." The whisper of sound tickled Orgon's ears, the constant refrain of tactical reports from the probe task force he'd sent into the high northern reaches of Lacunae Hive's territory. Displays covered the expanse of wall screen opposite his desk, while miniature copies of the Synod core group in hologram form hovered about his shoulders like worried ghosts. They were also talking, but Orgon had muted their comms channels for now. Of more immediate interest was the subdued hum of conversation in the rest of the ops-room; deep in the heart of one of a series of unnamed and unlisted bunkers, Orgon actually had the physical presence of several of the general staff, along with holograms of others, transmitted from the other bunkers taking part in the virtual command network. Also with him were a pair of the World Court's Auditors: Kosigan, his blunt jaw clenched, and Rthys, along with their anonymously-dressed 'assistants'. Orgon tried not to smile at that; they had the build and movements of trained killers. "Bandwidth still falling. Inter-task force operating frequency down to one hundred kilohertz. Prioritising telemetry feed from outriders. Deploying gryphon units for manual sweep." Many of the visual feeds blinked out, replaced by grainy, low-res, low refresh rate things that barely qualified as useful. A wave of a paw pushed them to one side, filling the central space with the images coming from the carrier itself, their quality still excellent due to the non-causal link. Orgon's attention flicked to the strategic map and the rest of the forces following in after the reconnaissance force. Those aircraft were orbiting about a quartet of Arclight transmitters, arranged as two widely-separated pairs. "When will you use Arclight, Strategist?" asked Councillor Indutu, his voice a tiny buzzing thing at the edge of Orgon's awareness. "The Hive can ill-afford to pull so many from the front lines." "This one needs to know what the rogues will do. There are servitors on that carrier, and Orgon needs the data that only the non-causal channel will provide," he said absently, the majority of his attention on the displays. Video from outside the carrier was little more than the pearly grey of fog, lit by the strobes of running lights and the unhealthy pinkish-purplish glow of the contaminated clouds. There were internal views as well; extra cameras had been placed inside the five-animal servitor bay in the craft's belly. Other views showed the gryphon launch-roosts, empty now that the troopers had been flung into the mist. "This one was sure that the Court's actions would have solved our problem," Indutu said, his tiny phantom paws wringing silently. Yes, well this one told you it wouldn't work, Orgon thought, but only snorted by way of reply. This probe should give these ones a measure of their strength, if nothing else... or that both of the originals are still alive. We already know that the cloudstuff is not immediately inimical to biological life. The lifesign pings from the gryphons, little more than a heartbeat tone, as they could not mount the low frequency transmitters on so small a frame, were still strong. The servitors were unsettled, if Orgon was any judge. Pinned within their stalls by the restraint systems, they nevertheless shuffled and twitched, flickers of magic filling the small chamber with pulses of ethereal light. They must know something is going on... One of them was muttering into a command panel, its horn flickering as it manipulated the input field. Complex symbols, shifting fractals that approximated the mental patterns the illiterate servitors used to generate their magic, appeared on the display, as if drawn by an invisible claw-tip. If Merlon was there, this one could... He glanced sideways at his servitor, standing silently at his shoulder, then shook his head. The details do not matter, just the response. === Metal Matrix soared on a carefully controlled updraft within the shifting pastel gloom at the centre of one of 'their' clouds. Every so often there were flickers of sheet lightning in the depths, filling the world with erratic pulses of white and a continuous low rumble. At his flank was what one of the gryphons had called a squad, six flyers split into a pair of fire teams commanded by a korporal. This gryphoness was Svartr, a compact bundle of anger with a focused, clipped manner that made Metal's tail want to clamp itself between his hindlegs. Especially since he was supposed to take tactical instruction from the creature. Not orders, though, he thought. Ha! Like I'm going against Backdraft. His old teacher had been very clear about that. He didn't have to obey, but she'd talked at length about how little combat experience any of the ponies had, and that this was completely new territory for them. And this armour... I know Redshift was in a rush, but he could have put a little thought to comfort. There was an annoying grating sound with each wingbeat, and he carefully felt the nested layers of fullerene carbon weave and ceramic scales for the correct spot, the matter flowing like soft clay under the influence of his magic. He flexed his wings; the noise had gone, but there was now a new pressure point just in front of one wingshoulder. More magic, and-- "Specialist Matrix, report," the korporal said, her voice clear in his ear, coming from a comms unit cobbled together from several of the gryphon units. Metal flinched, his ears folding back, then waggled his jaw to open a return connection. "One moment, Sva-- Korporal." He closed his eyes, sweeping the southern horizon again with his shadow sight. The immediate area was clear, the cloud's magic held back by his own, but past that the world was filled with drifting patches of colour that illuminated the dark universe like lights in a fog -- and made it just as hard to see through. "Maker-damned-- Ah!" Against the sea-creature drift of the floating lights was something static and far away. More lights, the same burnished-gold as the wings of his gryphon squad-mates, were fanning out from some distant, near-invisible nucleus. "Svartr, I'm seeing gryphon deployment." He squinted, even though the motion had no effect on a mode of sight that had nothing to do with actual light. At the locus of the dispersion was a tiny constellation of pastel lights, all different colours. "It's them," he breathed, "only one carrier, though..." He reached out with the magic relating to his own special talent, the ability to manipulate matter at the lowest of levels, but there was nothing around except for the siren call of the complex ceramics and exotic alloys from the nearest gryphon's armour harness and flight pack. A further inspection by shadow sight revealed a few, much smaller lights at a similar range. Single pony in those, versus... four? five? ...in the larger one. Looks like there's a magical machine in there as well... not big, just odd. "Yes, one carrier and maybe a dozen airtanks." He felt along the sharing link, the only thing they had that would penetrate the ionised clouds. The scouts were right. They are here. Not empty machines this time. He sent his own sensorium into the sharing, feeling the acknowledgement come back from the other nine ponies spread over their defended perimeter. The mental volume became empty as the ponies jumped towards him. There are ponies on those aircraft, ponies who will try and stop us. How are we supposed to save them when they are trapped in armoured boxes that we need to break? Metal swallowed, mind filling with the crash of magic against armour ceramic. I wish they were just machines! === Ellisif had become very excited when she’d heard how Lilac had downed the airtank over the corral. 'Teleport artillery', she'd called it. Breathing heavily, Gravity let her magic die and surveyed the mountain peak. It wasn't one of the taller ones, barely reaching the underside of the pink-purple cloud deck, and it looked almost untouched, aside from the occasional minor rock fall that had exposed unnatural mirror-smooth surfaces. Biggest force fields I've ever conjured, but this is perfect. Don't even need to fill them with explosives. Fusion suddenly appeared, soaring a few kilolengths away, and Gravity waggled her wings in greeting while reaching for their sharing link. There are Arclights following the first aircarrier, Fusion sent, as Ellisif said there would be. I have seeded the air above them with clairvoyance anchors, but I expect them to be destroyed soon. There was a flash of memory, of a small collection of thaumically-keyed gems sent to fall from so high that the horizon was curved and the air was nonexistent. It will have to be direct observation. I just hope that... Fusion's train of thought stopped, replaced by a sense of deep sorrow. There are ponies on those aircraft. All of them? Even the Arclight units? But I thought... Yes. I suppose they are useful for repairs, when the system is off. I don't think we can get them out, Grav. Gravity was silent, then sighed. No, I don't suppose we can. Who will be our observer? It's Stratus and a few of the ex-weather team ponies out of Naraka. They've been well briefed not to get too close. And if they use lasers? Most of those Naraka mares either have foals or are pregnant, Fusion. Why would you let them go? Who have we got, Grav? The distant form of Fusion did a slow turn in the air, gaining height. There are too few of us who have managed to get proficient enough with the teleport spell. It's taking the Naraka ponies too long. These ones are those who haven't had their minds dulled by the endless megaseconds of confinement. Her magic built, the complex patterns of teleportation filling her mind and bleeding into the sharing. Ready when you are. Gravity smiled, stretching out her own power. Beneath her hooves the mountain started to come apart, pony-sized cubes spiralling up into the sky to orbit her like foals nuzzling for attention. === It didn't work last time and it's not going to work now... but there is something else this one can use the non-causal link for. Plan B it is. It's not like we can get in more trouble with the World Court. "Pull the Arclight units back," Orgon said, "full speed." The liaison officer, a member of the general staff and one of five ranked Tactician in the distributed ops room, gaped at him "Strategist... this will leave the probe force unprotected. This one understood that Arclight would be used to trap--" "The probe force is to continue." Orgon stared at the officer. "The Hive is at war. Is the Tactician refusing to obey an order?" His eyes flicked to the pair of Auditors; they had straightened up and were staring at him, then Rthys leaned over to whisper to her assistant. He moved subtly, paw brushing his firearm, gaze darting to the guards at the bunker's door. In turn, Merlon shifted, the faint scrape of hoof on stone barely reaching Orgon's ears. He touched the soft fur of her chest and she moved back slightly, still watching the World Court group. "No, Strategist!" The tactician's ears folded back and his eyes widened. "If this one could be told what the Strategist intends, he could offer some advice." His paws tapped out a series of rapid commands on the map table and the arrows that indicated the motion vectors of the Arclight groups started to turn about. "Something different." "This one would also like to know what Orgon is thinking," the ghost of Councillor Indutu said, voice sounding high and thin, more like a drifting fly than anything else. Orgon returned to his console, running a claw along the screen to wake it up. "This one warned Indutu that physical force was not really an option anymore." Glancing up at the rest of the ops-room he checked that the rest of the general staff were all busy with their own tasks. "All this action will do is lose us more Arclight units; one of the rogues destroyed two of them while under fire from their associated aircarrier battle groups. These ones will still need to defend their territory, no matter how this plays out." His command console was geared towards the military and security infrastructure, but had high level access to a lot of Hive systems. It validated his identity again, then switched to the master labournet interface. One command and this one could paralyse the whole of the Hive's infrastructure. His paws froze, suddenly reluctant to touch the sensitive surface. No, too many safeguards to disable first. He smiled, lips lifting away from his teeth. The location map provided a way to isolate the servitors of interest; a few score of individuals in the high north. Zoom and select, then open the priority orders interface. He started to type, hesitating occasionally over the exact phrasing. Must give them enough leeway to actually act. "That is insane!" Indutu's voice had become even more shrill. "The Court will have these ones trawled for this." "The Synod can have this one removed from command if it wishes..." He glanced sideways at Merlon, a reassuringly familiar bulk standing at his shoulder. The next act must be to ensure that they cannot. It will work, so long as the servitor is capable of what this one thinks it is. "...but Orgon tells you that this is the only thing that stands a chance of working. Anyway, what would the Court do? Another Hammer strike will only kill more of the People and the servitors will escape. Again." Of course, that is what the Court will do... they are too far from the problem to learn quickly from it, and Lacunae's enemies have too much interest in seeing these ones fail. Orgon kept his features blank, waiting for any objection from the Synod, but there was none. "Based on what this one has seen, it will be global war if we fought them, and that is not in anyone's interest. The Court will change the rules if this works." They will have to... and if it doesn't work, this one may have to demand a greater sacrifice of our people. Orgon sent the command, direct to the comms units carried by each pony in the probe force's carrier, then leaned back to stare at the video feed from the servitor bay. It was obvious when the command reached the carrier; if it wasn't for the restraint system, they'd have jumped clean out of their stalls. === Metal listened to the voices in his head, then clenched his teeth. By shadow sight the glowing cloudstuff with its floating wisps of faux-pony was starting to decay, the magic no longer being maintained by weather team members, and it was becoming easier to see the carrier and its escorts. The carrier was travelling relatively slowly, perhaps a quarter the speed of sound, but its complement of gryphons was still keeping pace. Must be those flight packs Red mentioned. Well, we've got them too. Good job the last raid collected those reactors! The tanks circled it in a pattern that covered the carrier from all directions. The ponies inside will know I'm here any second, so let's give them a show. He reached out with his power and accelerated, feeling the additional strain of carrying the pair of gryphon fire teams with him. The moist air within a dozen body lengths abruptly grew cold as he drew energy from the local environment, turning from fog to diamond-dust in an instant, glittering and swirling in the building glow from his horn. Closer now, the carrier coming within reach of his own peculiar magic, the individual planes and segments of its hull mapping out differently-tasting volumes in the shadow world. The harsh tang of nickel superalloys lining the magnetodynamic thrusters and in the blades of the ducted fans fought with a near-unbearable sweetness from the lacework of superconductors in the primary wiring loom and high-density power storage systems, all within the bloody taste of the airframe. Experienced this way the aircraft was a gastronomic distraction more diverse than the finest meadow grass, but he was used to the complexity. Metal worked his way through the antimagic defences -- just like Fusion had shown him, they were crude things more suited to repelling direct thaumokinetic strikes than his subtle assault -- narrowing down on those nickel-based high-temperature liners. Defect-free single crystals, they sang out to his mind like a gem would to a jeweller, wonderful things that some unnamed pony had poured all his skill into building. Lights flared, brilliant things that leaked a hard green glare through the slit between his closed eyelids, followed by a lightning-crackle that started in the high registers and faded to a rumble. "The other units are engaging the tanks. Specialist, what is the delay? There is more firepower on that carrier than all the escorts combined." Blue-white flashes and harsh cracks joined the lightning, drowning out the roar of the aircraft's engines. You try lugging two tonnes along at eighty meters a second while doing this! Metal ignored the harsh bird-screech of the korporal, because there was a twitch of sensation from the carrier. The thing was just passing beneath his hooves, pulling ahead despite his efforts to keep pace with it, and now the ponies within had awoken to the danger. Something jerked inside the aircarrier, a tentative brush of alien magic that hooked around his own. There were multiple strands to it, each subtly different. In the brief moment it took Metal to recognize the presence, it strengthened, pushing him away from his target. "Sorry, I need the power--" he ground out, sweat dampening his flanks, then dropped his hold of the gryphons. He barely heard the answering near-ultrasonic scream of their flight packs spooling up, vision narrowing as he fought back. Metal's own flight magic faltered, a deep chill stabbing through his fur. Ice crackled as his wings flexed and failed to bite air; Metal started to fall, but ignored it, maintaining focus on the aircarrier. Arcane light flared in the belly of the carrier as the ponies within put all their effort into stopping him, then the pressure faltered, the opposing magic directed sideways to focus on other sections of the big aircraft. Brief flashes lit the fog above, then the dim flutter of explosions reached him past the rush of air past his ears. Metal's power wrapped around the drive chambers, brushing past the remaining defences and weaving into the perfect superalloy linings. Under his touch, the metal flowed into new and short-lived shapes, the atomically smooth surfaces briefly forming spines and pits that were immediately washed away by the high-pressure, high-temperature air the drive used for propulsion. More super-heated air, so hot as to be a plasma, escaped the manifold and burrowed deep into the engine housing, ripping and incinerating as it went. The opposing magic vanished as the ponies in the carrier scrambled to halt the sudden destruction, then the safety systems cut power to the drive and carrier dipped violently before the lifter fans in its wings spun up to flight speed. "The main drive is down," Metal said out loud while sending the same thought into his sharing, wondering if the radio signal was getting through to any of the gryphons at all. Through shadow sight, he could see the golden wings of many of the creatures, but it was impossible to tell who was who. There were fewer of them than at the start, though; even as he watched, a pair of glowing forms swept together and tangled, falling end over end towards the distant ground. One broke away, climbing again, leaving the other to fade as death erased the glimmer of flight magic. Metal swallowed, feeling half-strangled where the throat mic pressed against his larynx. Fighting in the dark and fog, every person for themselves. This is it, now comes the hard part. He spared another glance for the weaving patterns of gold, then dove towards the attack carrier. Those on board were frantically trying to fix the damage he'd done, so he focussed on the sweet taste of ultra-pure silica that formed the backbone of the carrier's optically switched laser network. The hoof-thick fibres ran through the airframe, from turret to turret, and he traced them back to the complex silhouette of the laser itself, a vast length of carefully doped fibre that formed the amplification medium. A twist and the whole armoured capsule was suddenly alive with motion, the careful core-shell structures disrupted enough that the next pulse expended all its energy within the body of the laser. The brilliant green slashes that had been filling the cloud and making distracting flashes through his eyelids abruptly stopped. Carrier defences are dead. Understood, boarding party en route. The escorts are down and weather team is suppressing the cloud's ionisation to restore radio comms. He flew closer, passing through the antimagic field, landing on the upper hull between the broad wings and their dangerously exposed lifting fans. The carrier was still moving, starting to bank and come about, but the airflow was manageable. "Mind that next step," he muttered, nervously eyeing the nearest fan. The inhaled rush of air was easily felt even from this distance, and the noise was filling his head with a bone-numbing roar. His magic swept the plating beneath his hooves, hunting for a spot that wouldn't cause catastrophic problems, then he neatly sliced a rectangular slot through the alloy. Breaching the hull. A quick telekinetic pull and the armoured panel was whipped away. Metal made to enter the hole, but ducked as wings swept by over head, close enough to ruffle fur. "If I'd been the enemy, you'd be dead," Svartr growled, then folded her wings and dropped neatly through the hull, followed immediately by another of her team. But I was supposed to go in first! "Dammit, Svartr!" Metal growled and did the same, landing on a section of springy metal mesh flooring that was already dented from the quarter-tonne of armoured gryphon landing on it. The spinal corridor, a narrow space that ran between the heavy machinery of the carrier's wingroots, allowing the dog flight crew access to the gryphon-troop nest and servitor stalls in the lower aft compartments, was not built to a scale that was appropriate to a pony. There was no way Metal could turn around, and the corridor behind his tail, leading to the flight deck and forward drop-bay was threatening in its low intensity red lighting. "Move your tail, pony!" The words, harsh and fast with excitement, were practically screamed in Metal's ears, and he lurched forwards as another gryphon from Svartr's squad jumped into the corridor, this time facing towards the nose of the carrier. He set off with a leap, making room for the next gryphon. There was gunfire from the stern, in the direction that Svartr had gone, and Metal shouldered his way through a warped pressure door that looked like a gryphon had just run clean through it, bringing up a narrow oval force field as he did so. Past the bulk of machinery that filled the space between the leading edge of the carrier's wing, the passageway opened out into a chamber that occupied the whole width of the hull. It was lined with rows of flight control stations, recessed couches placed crosswise to the carrier's axis and surrounded by semi-circular consoles and display systems, most of which were dead, starred with bullet holes or scored by bomb fragments. Svartr and the other gryphon were hunkered down behind the nearest pair, trading shots with a pair of dogs sheltering behind their own consoles. His field flared orange as it intercepted a round from one of the dogs. It wasn't an aimed shot by any stretch; the dog just waved a paw around the corner of its console and sprayed fire from a compact railgun. The thing was obviously designed to be used two-pawed, and the recoil put bullets all over Metal's end of the room. === Merlon kept her ears relaxed, slightly back and out to each side, while her eyes drank in the operations bunker. What does my Master have planned? The order to the ponies on the carrier was simple and to the point, but how are those ponies going to react? She probed her feelings; instinct said that the decision to let a Master, any Master... She shied away from the thought, even though she'd actually done it herself. A normal pony just won't do it; fugue will be the inevitable result. A Security pony could manage it, but these were just from the Military... She chewed at the inside of her mouth, carefully biting down at her cheeks in hope that pain would bring clarity. I should tell him about my Blessing. She flinched, thinking about the likely result of that revelation. If I knew where they were, I could do this task for my Master. Perhaps that would be enough of a prize to save me? The teleport pattern swirled in her mind, great gaping holes marking the locations of the target coordinate-memories. I could do this for him-- The World Court Masters were huddled together again, but all her attention was on the two assistants. They claimed to be administrative experts, but their body language screamed out with the signs of military training. Bodyguards... and on high alert. She catalogued their movements, noting the tiny involuntary twitches that gave away the locations of weapons, both overt and hidden. She closed her eyes, dropping briefly into shadow sight to scan them; both carried a number of complex crystal thaumic devices that were supposed to be other, innocuous things. That's a stun-pulse generator, that's a dormant anti-magic projector, that's-- "This one said: 'servitor'. Is the pony asleep?" Merlon's eyes snapped open, ears folding back at Orgon's tone. Not irritated, but focussed, like he's ordering one of his Agents-- "No, Master. How may I serve?" Orgon was playing with the bracer on his left wrist; the thing emitted a near-silent hum, like a silent alarm but much fainter. He held his wrist cocked just so, pointing his forearm at her with paw held slightly downwards. Merlon froze, staring at that wrist. The motions and posture made it perfectly obvious that he was pointing a weapon at her. I'm fast enough to stop him -- She bit down on her tongue, willing the pain to dispel the evil thoughts. He knows what I have done. I deserve to die. The Masters are the paws of the Maker. "Identify the highest ranking individual in this room." She blinked, mouth opening. "It depends, Master. There are members of the Synod here as virtual presences, so it is them, really. Although, depending on the situation, the World Court Auditors may take precedence, if it were possible to confirm their authority." "Damn right these ones are," Kosigan snarled. "Orgon, what is all this about? The Strategist had a perfect chance to catch the rogues in the open." "This one thought so," Orgon said, nodding quietly. "Merlon, give this one the pony's labournet communicator." Merlon pulled the disk from her chest, placing it in his outstretched paw. "Excellent. Restrain the World Court operatives; strip them of any weapons or communications devices." The pair of 'assistants' moved insect-fast, as if they had been preparing to act at the slightest sign, but Merlon's magic was faster. Power flashed, casting strange shadows as she picked the pair up by their paws, plucking small gadgets and devices from pockets or fur and placing them in a neat pile. Their clothes came next, the fabrics made from tough fullerene weaves more at home on body armour. "This place will be a crater if Orgon doesn't--" A band of pearly-white magic snapped shut around Kosigan's muzzle, silencing him. He took my communicator so no one can countermand his orders. He wants to make sure no one can take me away from him... I am free to act so much faster; no need to think about what the Maker will do to me. Her jaws flexed, muscles bulging and jumping into sharp relief, and her ears flattened. Why does the Maker even need a spell to communicate its desires? Why do they tell us about the Maker at all? Is it even real? She made a little noise at the back of her throat, a subvocalised whinny. I was right to remove the Blessing... I can do more now. I have more options. I can do so much more for the Masters like this... would I go back even if I could? Rthys had frozen, shock making her jaw slack. "What is Orgon playing at?" "The Auditor will see." Orgon had not relaxed his posture and the wrist-mounted weapon was still trained on Merlon. A wave of his other paw blanked the comms feeds from the Synod core group. "This one remembers Merlon's briefing on the teleport magic. Did the pony exaggerate at all?" "No, Master!" The effort of holding up the struggling People wasn't high, but it was a building strain. He's going to want me to do something special. She straightened up, applying the subtle twist of power that she'd seen in Scalar's memories. The sound of the air conditioners became a little louder as they tried to compensate for the drop in local temperature. "Excellent. This one needs the Synod core group to be in this bunker with Orgon. Does Merlon remember the tour of Redoubts Gamma, Phi and Epsilon?" "Yes, Master." He wants me to... Merlon glanced at the guards at the entrance to the operations room, then deftly fished several sets of restraints from their equipment harnesses. They flinched, paws reaching for weapons, but did nothing more when Orgon waved at them. Merlon bound the Auditors’ and their bodyguards’ arms and legs together, wrist to ankle, then placed them on the floor. "What if the Councillors do not wish to come?" Orgon nodded, an approving gesture. "The pony is strong; Orgon always knew this. The Hive is currently in a state of emergency and the Synod has approved the special measures. This one has complete authority when it comes to the safety of the Hive." He smiled, lips pulling back from his teeth, and turned slightly, addressing not just Merlon, but the rest of the general staff. "Merlon served this one's predecessor for over a gigasecond, with all the knowledge of the Hive's military and security processes that entails, and has a far greater insight into how servitor magic works. It is possible that she, excluding the rogues themselves, is the one best placed to know what they will do next." "That is possible, Master," Merlon said, a slight tremor in her voice. He's not talking to me, but the general staff! Without moving, she surveyed the room, suddenly aware that she, not Orgon or the Auditors, was the centre of attention. "Does Merlon think the Hive can beat the rogues?" Merlon hesitated and Orgon gestured for her to continue. What I say now-- "Master... the amount of power available to Fusion or Gravity is very high, coupled with their mobility--" She closed her eyes imagining the weapon, the hidden thing that must be built into Orgon's bracer, still pointed at her chest. "Even if we can stop them, there are still many normal ponies on their side, and it will be very difficult to get them all back under the Maker's paw. With removal of the Blessing being so easy--" He must know what I've done! "--and the corrals being fertile ground for recruitment, now they have seen the inside of Naraka..." "...and the pony's conclusion?" No escape. Merlon sighed silently. "No, Master." There was a susurration throughout the room, the sound of many whispered conversations. "They are too mobile to be easily stopped, and combined with the inflexibility of the World Court's response..." Eyes now open, she lifted her head and addressed the room. "With no effective countermeasures, a continued war with the rogues will likely be unsuccessful and result in very high casualties. Based on what I've seen of Fusion's actions, the majority will be caused by Hammer strikes or more conventional weapons, used with increasing desperation." Her voice became tight, throat closing up. "There must be a negotiated solution." There was a moment of silence, then everyone started shouting at once. Orgon let it continue for a few breaths, then gestured to Merlon. Magic filled the confined space; a blinding burst of light and a concussive blast of sound, a spell built for celebrations in the vast open spaces in an arcology concourse compressed and fired within one small room. Orgon relaxed, his concealed weapon no longer pointed at her chest, then strode forwards into the stunned silence and placed one paw on Merlon's neck, her skin twitching and shivering under his touch. "Strong and smart. The pony may be the one to save us all," he whispered in one ear, before turning to face the room and raising his voice. "These ones know this is true. These ones have all seen the abilities of the rogues; mere physical force will not be enough." He smiled, reaching out with both paws. "Lacunae does not have the power of Baur, but it is adaptable. The signs are clear; what is coming is a step-change in history. These ones need to be part of that future. The Hive is at war, but this one will give anyone here the chance to step down, if they fear censure." "What about the... technical project? The one with Vanca?" The speaker, a female with the tags of a tactician in the Intelligence Corps, glanced sidelong at the bound representatives of the World Court. Orgon's smile sharpened. "Trust will come with a balance of power; this one does not intend to be defenceless." No one in the room moved or spoke. "This is treason, Orgon," Rthys said, voice calm but her eyes filled with fury. "If these ones go against the Court, these ones go against all of the People. There will be no forgiveness and no mercy." "It is only treason if these ones fail." The smile became mirthless, and he gave Merlon a slight push. "Go." That explains the orders to the ponies on the carrier. "Apologies, Master, but I will need explicit orders." No I don't, but he will expect me to ask. She bowed her head, keeping eye contact, her wing muscles flexing and legs twitching. With the Synod under his personal control, there is no chance of anyone reversing this, no matter what they believe. He needs me to be loyal, or none of this will work. "Bring the Synod core group, Councillors Indutu, Shmae, Caug, and Ullot, alive, to this location as fast as possible. Disregard any countermanding orders. The pony may use as much force as is needed to complete these orders." Merlon's knees buckled, and she staggered a step. I expected this, but... "Yes, Master," she said, straightening. Merlon built the teleport pattern, picking a spot mid way towards Redoubt Phi. It was in clear air, high inside Arcology Seven. I'm going to make the news. More spells filled her mind, secret things she'd learned to defend her Master, and the rubber-on-iron feeling of her own telekinesis hardened over her limbs. I should be afraid, but I'm not. With this freedom and new magic, I'm stronger than anypony except the rogues. The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. What is it the troopers say? Fire in the hole-- ~~~discontinuity~~~ === "Well, what are you waiting for?" Svartr snarled, "Magic us some magic, pony." "So now you want my help," Metal muttered, feeling for the other ponies on the carrier. They were scattered, mentally if not physically, their own power spread through the body of the aircraft and engaged in frantic repairs. Eyes closed he skirted them, locating the dogs at the end of the room by the taste of sodium in their blood, finding their paws and-- There were a pair of screams and the gunfire stopped. Svartr leaped over the console, closing the distance to the dogs in a single bound, followed by the other gryphon. Metal lifted his head, then flinched as she landed bodily on the nearest dog, claws flicking out to grab the other by the throat and slam him against the bulkhead. Blood splashed after the first impact, the dog going as limp as a foal's toy, and Svartr threw him to one side before stalking down the corridor they had been guarding. Metal froze, staring after them, then looked down at the dog the gryphoness had landed on. Chest caved in, she moved weakly, jaws opening and closing in a futile effort to pull in air. Nostrils flaring he breathed in sharply, gripping the dog's head. Eyes squeezed shut, Metal twisted sharply, shuddering at the nasty crack. Mouth working, he stepped away, trying to ignore the mangled paws and the smell of blood, heading deeper into the carrier. There was a sudden burst of gunfire and screaming. He twitched, shifting weight from hoof to hoof, then inhaled sharply at a flare of magic from below. Of course the ponies on board would defend their masters! He reached in with his own power, interfering with the other's magic where it tried to latch on to 'his' gryphons. They were desperate, hammering away at his grip while trying to block the gryphon's advance, and the effort required to keep them in check made sweat dampen his flanks, even while ice grew on the surfaces around his hooves. Stop! They are killing them! Metal moved to block the communication, freezing at the sudden wordless wail of distress underpinned with agony that came with the alien thought. They deserve to die -- all the dogs are monsters! he snapped back, jaw muscles bunching as his teeth ground together. Metal took a step forwards, ears cocked forwards and listening to the sounds, as the narrow spinal corridor opened out into a small rear compartment, empty but for discarded magazines and bullet-scarred storage lockers. The fighting had moved on, deeper into the aircraft, but the glare of magic still reflected off the walls through battle-damaged hatches. They won't let us surrender! "Dammit, Svartr!" Metal growled, lurching into a trot across the springy metal mesh flooring. What do you mean 'us'? The Masters? We were ordered to surrender-- With the thought came a sense of shock and pain, of a terrible mental struggle, of trying to understand something that was at odds with the natural order of the universe. --and that our Masters' lives were less important than the non-causal communicator. The what? That means the dogs are watching us-- Metal sucked in a fast breath, sweeping the aircarrier for anything really exotic, like isotopes or elements in unnatural concentrations, that would speak of a hidden nuclear weapon, but there was nothing to be found. Why? Why does the device matter? Strategist Orgon wants to talk. === Fusion, flying through dense, artificial cloud, watched the hovering attack carrier through shadow sight. At her side was Triple Point, who'd jumped to their position with some garbled message about 'surrender'. What do you mean 'talk'? She sent the thoughts into the sharing, watching through Metal's eyes while opening a link back to Gravity, still surrounded by her attentive cloud of rocks. Metal was holding a spitting, snarling gryphoness off the deck in a cocoon of green magic. He was standing between her and a small group of dogs, cowering at the far end of an equipment bay. Three other gryphons had joined them, weapons drawn and pointed somewhere between the dogs and Metal, but were held back by a glowing wall. Oh, for pity's sake. What have you done, Metal? He grunted, breathing hard. "Svartr here is killing every dog, even after they try to surrender," he said. "Can I have some help? I think one of the ponies on this thing is in punishment fugue." "Triple, find Ellisif and get her to control her troops, or find somepony to relieve Metal." The mare nodded, then vanished with a thump of inrushing air. Did you get that, Grav? It's a trap. Let the gryphons kill them all and I'll destroy these Arclights. One less horror in the world. They are vulnerable -- when will we next be able to hurt them this badly? This is a strange bait for a trap... why pull back the Arclights? They must know those things are our main targets. Fusion flew on for a few breaths, focused on the feed coming back from Metal. Triple had reached the room with the gryphons, immediately followed by Ellisif, who had waded through the group, knocking them left and right. She was shouting something, but Metal wasn't listening, all his attention on the ponies in the belly of the carrier. There were traces of pain filtering through the mental space, alien sensations intruding into the sharing from the pony's whiplashing magic. Triple cantered past the group, passing through a short-lived hole in Metal's force field, and took a hold of Svartr, keeping her still while Ellisif talked. Relieved of his burden, Metal launched himself through the door at the back of the compartment and down towards the servitor hold. Fusion split her attention again, partly on Gravity and her floating arsenal, partly on Triple, but mostly on Metal. The corridors he moved down were built to dog scale, and not suited for ponies. They were wide enough -- just -- but the sharp corners were out of the question. Metal left a trail of buckled and bent panels as he used magic to force his way through the narrow passages between unknown machines. Let's hope none of that's important! Fusion sent and he snorted in reply and kept on moving. The dog access to the servitor bay was through a hatch less than a metre on a side, and far too small to do more than poke his head through. There were five ponies inside, just visible through the mesh sides of their individual stalls. A little corridor ran in front of the head boxes, obviously an afterthought. Two of the ponies were thrashing inside the confines of their restraints, heads pulled up and back on straining necks while their bodies were held upright by the inflated padding in the stalls. They squealed, high distorted things choked out through throats closed with rippling muscle. Their skins, what little was visible, ran with lather and sweat and twitched like they were filled with ants. A dip into shadow sight showed the cause; green-glowing wires of magic ran from horn to brain. The air was filled with the pulse and flare of magic from the other stalls, power reaching out to parts of the carrier and trying to repair the damage done in the attacks. Metal's eyes bulged and he hissed, then gently gripped the closest pony's head. She ignored his touch, locked in a private world of pain and suffering by the fugue. His magic reached out, focused on a tiny volume of green-stained horn material, and twisted. The mare took a great, shuddering breath and slumped, letting the air back out in a sob, tears running down her muzzle. Metal switched focus and did the same to the other pony, and the level of noise in the compartment dropped dramatically. "W-what have you done?" The voice was male, but thin and full of strain. "I've removed the torturer from their heads. What did you mean, 'Strategist Orgon wants to talk'?" "The Maker--" The words were cut off with a gasp and a shocked whinny. Will it be better or worse if I remove his Blessing? Metal snorted in frustration. "There is no Maker! Listen, we can debate the way the dogs have trapped us after you are in a position to follow the argument. What did you mean!?" "I have my orders..." More sobs. "I-- There is a non-causal communicator in the forward hold, the one used by the M-Master's drop troops, but you can access it from any panel." He gestured at the comms unit across from their stalls. On it was the face of a dog, his green eyes calm and expectant. At the back of Metal's head there was a twitch of recognition. === Fusion looked out though Metal's eyes. That's the one who spoke to me at Naraka, just before they tried to kill us, she sent. So what? Gravity sounded impatient. Those Arclights are still in range, I could... I want to hear what he has to say. What if it's another trap? I don't see how. You can sense anything coming over the horizon and they have nothing left in orbit. Metal's the one at risk. You watch the Arclights and make sure they don't try anything from there. If they twitch, destroy them all. Gravity didn't reply, but there was a taste of expectation in the link. Metal, do you remember the spell we used back in the tunnels? The one to show Gravity and I to all the Naraka ponies? I do... hold on, there's not a lot of room in here. There were the bell-sounds of multiple force field cuts, followed by metallic shrieks and several voices raised in complaint. "You said you had your orders? Well you just concentrate on keeping this thing in the air and let me worry about talking to your boss. You can work from anywhere." There are still loyal ponies here... I only freed two of them, the ones in fugue. Should I... Later, let them work. The spell, please. Magic flared and Fusion let her point of view switch from Metal to a point outside his body. The space she was in was small and smelled of frightened and hurt ponies, a metal room decorated with ripped and twisted partitions that had been wadded up and pressed into a corner. On the wall was the screen with the dog. Fusion cleared her throat and heard the sound echo off the hard walls and into Metal's ears. Excellent. Thank you, Metal. "Sector Chief Orgon, you have moved up in the world! Why should I talk to you?" Fusion said, looking at the figure on the screen. The dog's ears flicked back for an instant, then he nodded, grim-faced. "This one half expected the pony to destroy the whole taskforce. He is impressed at the pony's restraint, especially after the Hammer strike." "Why are you talking, Orgon, and why should I listen? Is this another play for time? Are you manoeuvring some weapon into position to strike at us? Speak quickly." Through the link she probed the communicator in the belly of the carrier, hunting for some way to determine where the dog was. Some deep bunker, I imagine; perhaps if I was closer I could locate the other end and dig him out... "This one's only interest is the safety of his Hive; the pony was a threat, so..." Orgon waved a paw, suddenly looking tired. Behind him there was a pulse of pearly light, and a pony appeared carrying a screaming, grey-furred dog. Orgon turned, a faint smile curving his lips. "Councillor Caug! It is so good that he could make it." The pony, a dapple-grey mare with a slightly wild-eyed look and a nasty burn on one flank, dropped Caug and nodded to Orgon, then vanished again. Behind the dog, revealed when he had turned, were four others, bound paw to paw. What is going on in there? Fusion's ears pricked forwards and she strained to make out more details. That pony... Scalar said he was questioned by a pony like that. "To answer the pony's question: these ones have a common enemy." Orgon moved away from the camera, walking to the prisoners, and tapped one of them, a heavy-set male with a blunt jaw, on the top of the head. "Tell the pony who this one is." The dog snapped at Orgon's paw. "This one is will see to it that anyone Orgon even knows will be trawled on suspicion of treason! He will get to watch before the machines pull out his mind." "Rthys, please?" Orgon said, turning to a slender female, letting the other grind his teeth and snarl. "This one is Auditor Rthys of the World Court. That is Auditor Kosigan," she said stiffly staring into the camera. "The pony knows that these ones represent the ultimate authority under the Maker. Surrender now, and no others of the pony's kind will have to suffer." "And let gigaseconds of deaths and pain continue unabated?" Fusion said; her voice was calm but her body suddenly felt hot. Spell patterns rose unbidden in her mind, making the sharing waver. The distant point of warmth, high above the clouds, seemed to call to her, begging to be used in ways both tantalising and incomprehensible. "The pony sees what this one has to deal with; they have the evidence yet cannot accept it. This one can," Orgon said, turning slightly to include the rest of the room in his speech. "It is the Court that ordered the Hammer strike. It is the Court that makes the existence of free servitors a crime. It is the Court that will dismantle Lacunae in an effort to destroy the pony and all its kin. It is the Court that is the biggest threat to the existence of the pony and this one's Hive. If these ones want to survive, they will have to work together." His gaze traveled over those watching him, meeting their eyes. He can't seriously be suggesting... Fusion tried to read the audience; mostly shock, although some were at least looking thoughtful. Orgon must have seen what he wanted to see, because he stepped back a pace from Kosigan and raised a paw, pointing it at the Auditor. "There is no reason the pony should take Orgon's word for this, so here is a gesture of this one's sincerity." There was a sharp little noise, like the snapping of a twig, and Kosigan fell over, blood leaking from nose, mouth and ears.