Chapter 17
“Satellite Intel confirms the use of major jamming equipment in the area. They’re hiding something out there, and it aint small.”
The speaker, Major General Miles Lantry of Earthgov Military Command, jammed his forefinger at the holotable filling the center of the room, “Congratulations Hutch, your gal just put a pushpin down on the biggest PER operation we’ve ever managed to lay our scopes on.”
The room was silent, an air of reverent awe accompanying the words. The holotable was displaying data indicating that the PER were hiding multiple large buildings and installations, right in the middle of the American heartland, right out in broad daylight.
Lantry thumped a finger against the table’s surface, “The Council has unanimously voted to authorize military action. As of this morning, we are preparing strike teams, aircraft, mechs, and munitions; We are about to roll out the biggest military initiative on this continent in forty years.”
Murmurs swept the room. Hutch, Wrenn, Sildinar, Kephic, Varan, and Skye were standing in a group across the table from General Lantry. The rest of the Fort Hamilton situation room was filled with military commanders and a few ConSec higher ups.
The General thumbed a control on the holotable, and the display divided, one half showing Kansas and the surrounding area, the other showing a visual representation of the strike packages allocated for the mission.
Lantry took a sip from something that looked suspiciously like a synth-whiskey flask before speaking, “Fort Hamilton is operational command, the destroyer UES Raleigh was moved up the Mississippi under cover of night, and is submerged within firing range of the combat zone. Raleigh, her Scythes, and her medivac are the primary field support platform.”
He tapped the icon representing the harsh angles of the ship, then her location on the map, “If this was anything but PER, we would just waste the surrounding 40 square hectares with her railguns, drop a tac-nuke out of generosity, and call it a day.”
The man sighed and ran a hand across his balding head, “Unfortunately, logic says they got a lot of civilians, and in particular Ponies in there, and we are under strict orders, as per the terms of the Accords, to bring them back alive and unharmed to the best of our ability. So this is essentially an invasion against a fortified enemy stronghold.”
He jerked a thumb at the rest of the strike package icons, “Military Command has authorized full deployment, two light tank battalions, two hundred special forces troops, one CAA-7 for drops, twenty five VTOL gunships, and the Raleigh’s two Scythes.”
Lantry gestured around the room, “A thousand additional Military Police, and fourteen light vehicle packages are being airlifted in to secure a wider perimeter, make sure nobody escapes during the scrap. Command has re-vectored as many satellites as possible to give us full coverage of the area during the fight; Thermal, LADAR, tomographic, you name it we have it.”
He slammed his fist down on the small circle marked ‘Carrenton.’
“Primary objective is to secure the facility with as few Equestrian casualties as possible. Secondary is to tag and bag high level targets, any leadership on the premises, before they goop out.”
Low groans and murmured invectives could be heard from all corners; ‘gooping out’ was a military slang term for the PER leadership’s strategy of swallowing potion if they were about to be captured, rendering it impossible for them to be tried as humans and punished to the full extent of military justice, let alone interrogated.
Some soldiers, particularly ones whose families had been Converted against their will, had been known to execute the offending persons, regardless of species or circumstance, out of sheer frustration, and then report it as necessary self defense.
The practice had finally gotten so bad, that new rules specified if a soldier’s family was caught in a PER attack, it was immediate grounds for honorable discharge and revocation of security clearance, as well as weapon permits.
Lantry stared at the four Gryphons, “Because of the... Unique situation, we are going to run this op in two stages. Stage one; Our fine feathered friends do H.A.L.O. into the facility from the CAA-7. If the PER have jamming that good, we can assume they’re always watching for hostile intrusion. The Gryphons have a minimal LADAR cross section, less than any of our drones or missiles, and if they take hand-held jammers of their own they’d be completely invisible to any long range detection system.”
Lantry stared down at the ‘Carrenton’ dot, “Their job is to capture leadership targets, and stick C4 to anything and everything they can lay hands... Lay claws on that’s related to the jamming systems or defensive emplacements. If they get lucky, we can cut these sucker’s uglies off before they even know we’re there, and that means a lot less casualties going in.”
He looked up at the assembled ConSec and Special Forces commanders, “Once they give the go sign, you boys come marching in and put down any resistance. No quarter for any humans, that includes ‘civilians’. Every single thing in that killbox that isn’t a Pony, a Gryphon, or a uniformed Marine, you kill it if it doesn’t surrender on first warning.”
He paused to take another pull on his flask, “We take Ponies alive, but only if they don’t endanger our troops, and that includes being threatened with potion. But let me make this clear; If any of you jarheads get trigger happy and kill an innocent I’ll personally execute you without trial post-mission.”
Lantry looked down at the chronometer display inset into the corner of the table, “It is o’ two hundred now, darkness only lasts till o’ seven hundred. What are you all standing around here for?! Staging is in Topeka, that’s a two hour flight, MOVE! GO!”
The room began to empty of officers in a hurry. Sildinar started a hushed conversation with Hutch, Skye made her way over to Wrenn, Varan, and Kephic, “You guys stay safe, ok? I gotta have somebody to keep bringing me goodies from the field to break.”
Kephic smiled, “If we were always safe, we wouldn’t be living particularly good lives.”
Wrenn chuckled, “What he means to say is, we’ll come back just fine. I’m sure of it, especially with you here helping to run support.”
As they left to join the troops boarding VTOLs for the flight to Topeka, Wrenn stopped to talk to Hutch, “Staying here?”
He nodded, “I’ve been asked to run command and control for ConSec forces assisting on this. You get out there, and you bust down their front door, marine; But more importantly you come home with all your feathers still attached.”
Wrenn snapped off a salute, “You got it. Hutch.”
The tarmac at Topeka airbase was the busiest Wrenn had ever seen a military installation.
VTOLs were arriving and departing constantly, and a stream of CAA-7s touched down every few minutes, delivering tanks.
Soldiers jogged to and fro in battalions, staging with their assigned VTOLs, as technicians and ground staff rushed to arm the gunships and the tanks, which appeared to be nothing so much as sleeping predators, daring any to wake them, their menacing shapes barely visible in the pre-dawn fog.
One CAA-7 stood out from the rest; It had an unusual ugly ‘bump’ behind the cockpit area, oddly canted wings, large fins coming out of the engines, and it was painted a solid shade of gray so dark it might as well have been black. It was a stealthed variant of the transport, used for High Altitude Low Observability insertion, or H.A.L.O. jumps. It sported jamming equipment, heat absorption fins, and LADAR diffusive paint.
Standing just off the loading ramp, two troopers were helping a complaining struggling figure into standard black special forces armor and a helmet.
Wrenn chuckled, “Hello Stanley. Ready for some ‘embedded reporting’ ?”
Carradan fiddled with his helmet strap nervously, “This is crazy! I’m not qualified to be a warzone reporter! What if I get shot?”
Sildinar glowered, “We would have to be dead first, and that’s not going to happen.”
Kephic gave him a resounding clap on the back, ”Think about it this way; if combat doesn’t suit you, then life as a Pony could theoretically be that much more enjoyable.”
The two troopers finished tightening the straps on Carradan’s armor. One turned to the Gryphons, “Wheels up, all aboard that’s going aboard.”
The CAA-7s engines flared to life, and the craft began to taxi even before the rear hatch was completely closed. Wrenn turned to glance at the two troopers, “We won’t be needing chutes or rebreathers, we can process low pressure low oxygen air, the cold isn’t a problem, and well...”
He shifted one wing by way of explanation for the lack of parachute, “Our embedded reporter will need a rebreather though. And we all need belt jammers.” He turned to Sildinar, “Who gets to carry Stan?”
As one, Sildinar, Varan, and Kephic turned to look back at Wrenn. Sildinar said what they were all thinking, “He was more or less your idea, so he’s your problem.”
Carradan and Wrenn’s voices rang out simultaneously.
“Oh. Fun. “
“Oh. hell no! I’m not letting *him* carry me! he’ll drop me!”
Wrenn jerked his head around and glared, “Shut up and pay attention to the SpecOps guys who are about to teach you how to use a rebreather. You screw it up? You suffocate, and there will be exactly jack all I can do to help you. So button your lip and straighten your pants. You stay frosty, stay behind me, and do as we say, and you’ll be fine.”
Wrenn turned to a crewmember, who had come aft from the cockpit area, “What’s the infiltration vector look like?”
The woman popped open a large DaTab and gestured for the Gryphons to gather around, “Boys, you’ll be ever so sorry you asked.”
Sildinar stood by the open rear hatch, the wind whipping at his feathers.
Everyone had throat mics and in-ear headphones, but only Carradan was wearing a full helmet and rebreather. He stood just in front of Wrenn, while in a line behind them stood Kephic and Varan.
As Sildinar summarized the drop plan one more time, they put the final pieces of their equipment on, double checked their weapons, and then did a pass over each other's armor just to be safe.
“We are jumping from 44,000 feet. Jammers on the whole way down, total radio silence. We are going in as hard and fast as possible, full on stoop, do not slow until you absolutely have to.
Wrenn, you will have to start your braking earlier than the rest of us, you have extra weight.”
Wrenn rolled his eyes as he straightened Carradan’s rebreather and gave his helmet an experimental thwack, “Gosh, how could I forget?”
He reached down and cycled his RAC-8. He also insisted on carrying a pair of extendable SMGs, in lieu of his usual pistols. He wanted to make good use of his extra strength and size, and mid-size SMGs were the closest things analogous to a pistol for his claws.
All the Gryphons carried their swords, several grenades, and blocks of C4 in satchels cinched firmly beside their scabbards. Sildinar carried his customary rail-snipe instead of a RAC-8, and Varan was nursing a terrifyingly large anti-personnel grenade launcher.
Wrenn smiled, “Hey Varan... Don’t you think you’re *blowing* the whole issue out of proportion?
It was only one grenade to the face, no need to get *explosive* about it.”
Kephic groaned, “Oh for the love of... Knock it off.”
Varan grinned darkly, “I’m just being a smart predator. When you see a superior weapon, the best course of action is to learn to use it against your enemy.” Wrenn couldn’t really argue with that. In truth, he just wanted to put a lighter mood on things so that Carradan wouldn’t be tense and struggling all the way down.
Kephic came over and started doing a check on Wrenn’s cinches, their armor clacking softly as the plates bounced off each other in the turbulence, “Varan and Sildinar tend to pair up and keep each other's backs in missions, so that makes you and I... ‘Buddies’ that’s the Marine word right?”
Wrenn nodded, and fell to checking Kephic’s armor as soon as he was finished, “Yeah. Got your back, I know you’ve got mine.”
The two shared a quick embrace, a backslap, and full arm claw-shake.
Carradan groaned, “Oh God... This can’t be happening... It's like I’m in ‘The Longest Day.’ I’m gonna die...”
Kephic gave the man’s helmet a sharp rap, “Breathe Carradan. Pay attention and you might learn something. You remember to roll that camera of yours, you might even make the headlines.”
Sildinar drew his sword, Wrenn, Kephic, and Varan followed suit.
Carradan and the two troopers watched, bemused, as the Gryphons held out the weapons so that the blades overlapped each other in a fan formation.
Sildinar spoke, raising his voice to be heard above the wind, “In peace, and in strife,”
The others chorused in unison, “we share the bond of brothers.”
“We lay down our lives for our cause. For freedom”
Sildinar pitched the blade of his sword down.
Wrenn did likewise, “For courage.”
Kephic followed suit, “For honor.”
Finally, Varan did the same, “For justice.”
They simultaneously raised the swords high, and again shouted, in tandem, “And when the battle is over, we take up our lives again. To Victory!”
As they replaced their swords in the scabbards, Wrenn overheard one of the troopers nudging his partner, “Holy hell... they’re serious business....”
Carradan just whimpered.
Wrenn smirked, “Don’t clench. It will hurt a lot more on impact. Loosen your shoulders and ankles.”
Sildinar turned to face the blackness rushing by outside, his eyes fixed on the red strip of LED light above the door. There were no stars visible. Even though the clouds were far below, the atmosphere itself was nearly opaque, making the night all the darker since the moon didn’t have the luminosity to provide a penetrating light source like the sun.
The pilot’s voice came over a wired intercom speaker, “Entering combat zone, radios off.”
Wrenn clicked off first his own radio, then he removed the power cell from Carradan’s and secreted it in his satchel. No sense in courting disaster.
The pilot’s voice came through again, “Drop zone in twenty. Hit the ramp.”
Sildinar stepped out to the edge of the ramp, Wrenn grabbed Carradan in a grim parody of a bear hug, and stepped up to the beginning of the metal strip. The red indicator light glinted off Sildinar’s helmet, giving him a terrifying aspect. In that moment, Wrenn had no doubt that given enough time and ammunition, that the four Gryphons alone could probably kill everyone in the installation below.
The PER had sown the wind.
And for all the world, Sildinar looked like the embodiment of the whirlwind.
The jump light abruptly changed to green with a loud accompanying tone, and the roan Gryphon pushed off the ramp, rocketing down into the void.
Wrenn bounded to the edge, and repeated the action, beak pointing down towards the clouds.
Muffled by the rebreather, Carradan tried to scream, but all that came out was a feeble squeak.
The CAA-7 disappeared into the night, leaving behind four sleek, winged shapes, rocketing towards the ground at top speed, weapons in their claws, and death on their minds.
General Piety’s Light decided it was going to be a good morning. The PER higher-up wasn’t a Pony yet, but she had selected a Pony name and was absolutely insistent that she be recognized by it. Behind her back, most of her subordinates called her ‘Withers’ as both an Equine related pun, and because of her notorious withering glares that could speak volumes without a single word.
She sipped at her synthetic tea and surveyed her domain. The control room for Carrenton’s defenses and jamming. Around her, Ponies and humans alike moved back and forth, murmuring technical specifications and operating procedures to each other, keeping her little chunk of the world, and all its inhabitants, safe.
The only figures in the room besides Piety who were motionless, were the two heavy troopers by the door. They, and twelve of their ‘close friends,’ had been assigned as defensive leads for the facility when the leaders had visited the day before.
Piety didn’t exactly like them; They were large, even to her, intimidating, and vulgar. And they stank. But they could certainly tear an armored Earthgov trooper a new breathing hole in record time, and that's why there were on permanent retainer, with a promise of more to come. Protection for all the PER’s assets and citizens.
Fortunately, neither had said a word since Piety started her shift in the control room, so perhaps it *was* going to be a good morning after all.
The air was somehow frigid, yet not uncomfortable. Wrenn could sense the low oxygen levels with every breath he took, but his body didn’t care. His lungs, and every other organ in his body, were somehow capable of adjusting to the change in pressure and oxygenation, shifting to burn different compounds in different proportions seamlessly.
Though he didn’t understand how, his alveoli were able to augment the low levels of oxygen by processing other inert gases in the atmosphere, as well as nitrogen.
Gryphons were simply built for flight, at nearly any altitude shy of the Karman Line.
Wrenn glanced at the dim holographic display integrated into his gauntlet, to check his speed and ensure his jammer was still active. The anachronistic clash of new tech and older tried and true interface design was nearly lost on him as he saw his airspeed. Two hundred and thirty one knots.
He realized that the drag created by the squirming whimpering Carradan was slowing him down, so he began beating his wings to keep up with the others. He kept the strokes shallow, to avoid causing extra drag.
Slowly, they closed with the group, falling into the rear-most position.
Carradan practically jumped out of his forelegs when they hit the cloud layer, and Wrenn had to tighten down on the man until his talons dug into the nanofiber flak vest strapped over Carradan’s armor.
Once they were below the clouds, Wrenn could see the complex far below, a spiderweb of broken burned out buildings connected by decaying roads, interspersed with the new cloaked structures.
To Wrenn’s surprise, he found he could clearly see the outlines, and even some details, of the structures despite the distance and the sophistication of their optical panels. He reasoned it had to be because his eyes were receiving information faster than the refresh rate of the panels themselves.
As the Earth rushed up to meet him at over two hundred and seventy miles per hour, Wrenn spared a brief moment to feel exhilaration at the sheer speed, audacity, and risk of a no-chute dive from 44,000 feet.
The PER compound began to loom large in his telescopic vision, and he decided it was time to risk slowing down. He canted the angle of his wings, and opened them ever so slightly, adjusted his tailfeathers, and changed his grip on Carradan to present more of the man to the stream of air passing over them.
Gradually, his speed decreased. A few moments later, he saw the other three Gryphons beginning their braking maneuvers. One again he was impressed with the value of his instincts. Wrenn had always been a big believer in trusting his gut, but as a Gryphon it was far less fallible, and far more capable than it had ever been before.
At the last safe second, Wrenn fully splayed his wings, causing an enormous jolt, like slamming on the brakes in a supercar, as his speed went from close to eighty miles an hour to less than twelve in a single instant. Carradan grunted at the shock, and tried to double over, but couldn’t because of the safety harness.
Wrenn beat his wings several times, increasing the duration between strokes every beat, and finally dropped to the ground. The others were already waiting for him, weapons raised.
Carradan took a few drunken steps forward, then collapsed in a heap.
Wren yanked him to his feet, peeled off his rebreather, and clapped him on the shoulders.
He hissed in a low voice, “Get ahold of yourself, you did fine! Now get that camera out, and prove you can take the heat. Come on! Snap out of it!”
He gave the side of Carradan’s helmet a sharp smack, and that seemed to do the trick.
The stagger disappeared, and the man fumbled for his camera, waving his hand that he was alright. Wrenn nodded, allowed him a small short smile, then turned to Sildinar.
A series of quick gestures were exchanged, the gist of them being that they needed to split up; Wrenn, Kephic, and Carradan would try to sabotage the jamming and defensive control systems, Sildinar and Varan would go for the higher-ups.
Since neither group had any concept of where their objectives lay in the compound, they started off in random directions, guided by instinct alone, hoping to spot evidence leading them to their targets; A sign, or an electrical trunk line, or a guard they could follow.
Wrenn and Kephic ducked into one of the structural husks that had once been a house.
Carradan was so focused on filming, that he nearly missed the hiding spot, and Wrenn had to reach out and pull him to safety.
Kephic’s voice was low, almost inaudible, “Got any ideas?”
Wrenn nodded, “Yeah... Good news or bad news first?”
Kephic’s expression said ‘bad’ so Wrenn opted for the bad news, “I got a good glimpse of one of the rooftops on the way down, their jamming equipment isn’t centralized. Its a big system of nodes, one per building. So we can forget sabotaging a central jamming or defensive system.”
Kephic glanced out a broken window, “The good news?”
“The good news is, equipment that sophisticated can’t have a very big backup power supply, the electrical signature would counteract the jammer. So it has to be tied to a central electrical system, which we *can* sabotage. We just need to find the reactor. Given the kind of signature something that size would throw off, it has to be buried way down.”
Carradan finally spoke up, “Buried? Then they’ll have put it under the old chemical plant. Save 'em years of diggin' ”
Wrenn and Kephic stared, Carradan shrugged, “What? I did a four piece segment on chemical refineries once. They all had huge underground areas for chemical storage, why should this one be any different?“
Wrenn grinned, “Now you see... If you used that kind of common sense all the time, you’d come off as much smarter than you look.” With that, Wrenn pivoted around the door and swept the immediate area with his weapon, before setting off at a slow lope towards the next piece of cover.
Carradan looked at Kephic, a mixture equal parts confusion and frustration on his face, “Was that a compliment... or...”
Kephic chuckled, “Yes. Keep up. You get lost, you get killed.”
Skye sniffed at General Lantry’s flask. He had left it on the holotable as he stepped out to take a call. To her surprise, the substance inside was not synthehol, but tea. She grinned. Humans could be full of surprises.
The tension in the Fort Hamilton situation room was so thick, Skye half expected to look up and see it hanging in the air. The Gryphons had jumped, according to their transport pilot, two hours previous. Everyone, including Skye, was on edge, desperately hoping, and waiting, for the call to action.
Lantry finally returned, snagging his flask and taking a deep draw on it, “Any word?”
Hutch shook his head, “Not a peep.”
Lantry murmured darkly, “If I have to endure another one of these stealth insertions I’m going to tender my resignation, and nail it to the head of whoever decided sneaking around was better than a frontal deep-standoff assault.”
Skye had to resist the urge to chuckle.
The stealth insertion had, of course, been Lantry’s idea.
Sildinar and Varan had opted to follow the first guard they saw. The man was encased in the generic white unmarked combat armor that seemed to be the PER standard, and he was completely oblivious to the two silent, shadowy forms tailing him.
The guard wasted a great deal of time. Sildinar noted, with disgust, that his patrol route was poorly planned, and the fact that he was walking it without a partner only served to make his incompetence more obvious.
Finally, the man made his way to the end of his route, and entered one of the cloaked buildings.
Varan and Sildinar both caught a glimpse of the interior as the door opened, and they spied their objective.
The entryway to the building was unlit, to prevent a passing satellite from picking up an anomalous light emission, but the two Gryphons had near-perfect night vision, so the small sign inside the door that read ‘Central Command’ was clearly visible.
As soon as the door closed, Varan leapt from the rooftop where he had been hiding, and glided down to the control panel. Sildinar quickly joined him as he typed in the guard’s code from memory. The keypad had no shielding, and the man hadn’t thought to use his hand to block line of sight.
The first two sets of doors presented no obstacles, but there were two guards at the third.
Sildinar dispatched one by twisting his head one hundred and eighty degrees around, Varan dealt with the other by folding him in half, snapping part of his armor, and all of his spine, in the process.
The remaining door was a thick set of sliding steel plates, with reinforcement buttressing, clearly marked with a large stylized inverted delta, inscribed with the silhouette of a pony.
The PER emblem.
Sildinar cast a glance down at Varan’s weapon, “Would you do the honors?”
A vicious smile played across Varan’s beak, “Absolutely.”
Piety spilled her tea. She was normally a woman of steady hands, and firm mind, but like everyone in the control room, she came out of her seat in shock when the entry doors left their mounting frames and entered the room at full speed, accompanied by the ear piercing roar of explosives detonating.
The deformed metal slabs came to rest embedded in the far wall of the room just as two large, menacing figures materialized through the smoke filling the, now empty, doorway.
Sildinar’s triumphant half-grin quickly faded into a more serious scowl, as his eyes swept over the occupants of the room. Ponies and humans he had expected.
But the two figures in adapted white combat plating that were picking themselves up off the floor, and readying nasty looking polearms, were most definitely unexpected.
The Gryphons drew their swords.
Now the fight would be on their level.
Carradan had been right. There was an enormous underground chamber, cleverly hidden beneath the abandoned chemical plant. Wrenn decided they couldn’t really continue to think of it as 'abandoned,' especially since a great deal of the chamber seemed to be filled with working pipes, valves, and filters all leading down to row upon row of vats.
Carradan leaned over one of the open vats and sniffed, “Eugh. That’s nasty. Smells sickly sweet. Like poison.”
Wrenn reached out a claw and planted it firmly on Carradan’s chest, pulling him back to a safer position, “What would the PER want with this much poison? That’s more an HLF tactic, and this looks to be close to eighty thousand liters. If it's high density that's enough to poison half the Ponification serum in the world...”
He trailed off, as a mortifying thought occurred to him.
Kephic voiced it, “Or *all* of the Gryphonization serum.”
Carradan wretched, “Those diseased motherf---” Wrenn slapped him on the back, “Save it for the article. Kephic? I think we’re going to have to split our C4.”
Kephic was already breaking off his own block into small pieces and attaching them to the vats, “Way ahead of you.”
As Kephic attached small pieces of the explosive substance, Wrenn went behind him and added wireless detonator stubs. C4 was so stable, there was no other way to get an explosion out of it, not even by lighting it directly on fire.
Once enough of the vats had been tagged to destroy most of the room, the group continued through an access hatch into a stairwell. The stairs in turn led down into another large concrete space. The lower chamber was filled not with chemical vats and pipes, but with a plethora of thick electrical trunk lines leading into a central thrumming black orb.
Wrenn stopped short and whistled, “No wonder they put it so far down... That’s a pretty big fusion reactor. That thing could power a battleship.”
Kephic shrugged, “Good. The bigger a fireball this part of the facility goes up in, the better. Block?”
Wrenn detached his own block of C4 and tossed it to Kephic, “Split it into three pieces, equidistant around the shell. The inward force should put enough pressure on the reactor to tear the Earth a new breathing hole.”
Carradan gulped, “You better set a long timer on that...” he aimed the camera at the reactor, and Wrenn realized he had probably been running it non-stop since they landed.
Kephic shook his head, “It’s a remote detonator, not a timer.”
He finished plunging the last explosive pin into the deadly off-white blocks, “”We’re good to go.”
The group sprinted up the stairs, down the row of vats, and back up the second stairway.
Wrenn was the first to exit the hatch, and so came face to face with the enemy.
The vicious looking gray jowls, sharp protruding teeth, and beady searching eyes threw him for a moment, then he reflexively lashed out, surprising the intruder as much as it had surprised him.
Carradan was out next, and upon seeing the white armored figure, and the two others which were slowly joining it in a defensive position, he skittered backwards mumbling expletives.
Kephic leapt from the hatch, and drew his sword, “I hope Sildinar’s lessons have been sinking in.”
The three enemies drew polearms, and starting a slow march forward.
Wrenn appraised their armor and weapons as he drew his own sword, “Why?”
Kephic raised his weapon, “Because Diamond Dogs are no pushovers.”
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Diamond Dogs? Ah shit.
Diamond Dogs.
Oh shhhhhoot.
Ooh! diamond Dogs! What a twi-
Actually, hang on, are you implying that they have several reactive metals in their blood?
!!!
Please go into further detail.
This. This will be good.
Low groans and murmured invectives could be heard from all corners; ‘gooping out’ was a ConSec term for the PER leadership’s strategy of swallowing potion if they were about to be captured, rendering it impossible for them to be tried as humans and punished to the full extent of military justice.
What, precisely, is the legal obstacle to giving them the same trial (and the same sentence) as a pony that they would have as a human?
I like that you're making Carradan something more than just an annoyance.
Why do I hear The Silent Cartographer playing in the background?
To handle processing of the high number of noncombatants they plan on recovering. Very smart.
So rarely do these hype speeches consider there's an after to these sorts of things. It's yet another wonderful little pinhole window into the culture of Gryphons.
11568173
I was inspired by the Jem'Hadar from DS9. They have a little mantra about how their lives are forfeit in battle.
https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Jem%27Hadar#Ritual_practices
I re-interpreted the general motif for a very different culture.