Chapter 18
Sildinar didn’t give his adversary time to finish recovering. He sprang forward and brought his sword down, twisting it to the side at the last moment to avoid directly impacting the polearm that was raised to deflect his strike. He pivoted to avoid a retaliatory stab, and saw that Varan was similarly engaged with the other Diamond Dog.
He managed to land a kick to his opponent’s chest with a back paw, and that earned him enough of a reprieve to cross draw his RAC from its position at his back. He leveled the weapon, single-clawed, and fired.
The round tore through the leg of his target, a woman with general’s bars affixed to her white camouflage pattern uniform, and the nameplate “Piety’s Light” attached to the left shirt pocket.
She was obviously a high value leader, and that meant she couldn’t be allowed to leave.
The distraction cost him a few inches of ground, and he had to duck to avoid being beheaded as his snarling opponent swung the polearm in a wide arc aimed at his neck. The weapon missed, and because of the weight the Diamond Dog had put behind it, he ended up overcompensation giving Sildinar an opportunity to get in a strike. He stabbed, going for the heart, but the enemy realized what he was doing, and stepped back, causing his blow to take an appreciable chunk out of the canine’s shoulder instead.
The Diamond Dog retaliated by bringing the hooked part of his weapon up, catching Sildinar’s left claw. It didn’t do a lot of damage, but it threw him off balance for a half second, causing a short break in the engagement. He used the time to sling his RAC back over his shoulder, and re-establish a two-clawed grip on his sword.
The Diamond Dog was clearly an aged veteran, and that meant it was going to be a long battle.
Wrenn’s enemy was clearly his superior in skill with a bladed weapon. He had already taken several strikes which had put deep gouges in his armor, and probably bruised him fairly badly.
Though his reflexes and mind were unquestionably faster, the Diamond Dog always managed to avoid his blows. While it was somewhat slower, the creature was stronger and more durable to make up for it. And clearly much more experienced.
Wrenn spared a glance for Kephic, who was making good use of his wings, leaping, spiraling, pivoting, and in general never touching the ground for more than a moment at a time.
He was doing decently well juggling his two opponents, but that couldn’t last forever.
Wrenn cursed his lack of experience. If he were better with a sword, he could have finished his enemy, then joined Kephic, and the battle would be over. But now it was a three versus two battle, with Wrenn barely having the bladed weapon experience necessary to stay alive.
A thought crossed his mind, and he nearly dismissed it, but it was a decent chance.
He allowed the Diamond Dog to lash out, then sidestepped and did his best to emulate one of Kephic’s flips, landing beside Carradan.
He drew one of his SMGs and pressed it into the man’s hand, “Right hand on the trigger, left hand over the barrel, it’s going to kick up *hard*. Look down the sights, squeeze.”
Wrenn flicked off the safety as he pulled his claw away.
Carradan looked aghast, “I’ve never used a GUN before, you can’t be serious!”
The Diamond Dog had recovered from the misplaced momentum of its earlier charge and was no turning to re-engage. Wrenn glared, “First time for everything! Shoot, or he comes after *you* next!”
Wrenn flipped over his opponent, giving Carradan a clear line of fire. To his credit, the reporter had the courage to squeeze the trigger. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the aim to hit anything critical. Rounds sprayed everywhere, a few embedding themselves in the Diamond Dog’s shoulders and legs, the rest hitting the ceiling as Carradan failed to compensate for the barrel pull.
The rounds seemed to do very little damage, mostly expending themselves on the enemy’s armor and thick skin. Wrenn spent a few moments of decelerated time re-evaluating the polearm, ferreting out its signature moves, and blind spots.
He switched strategies. It wasn’t like training, he realized, on the field everything he knew and was capable of had to flow, at full speed, one thing into the next, so that his enemy wouldn’t have time to figure out what was happening, or develop a counter strategy.
He pushed himself to move, and think, as quickly as he could. His movements began to resemble Kephic’s, all at once he was below his enemy’s weapon, taking a sweep at his legs, then he was above him, kept aloft by two beats of his wings, stabbing down and knocking off his helmet.
Wrenn took a sharp rap to his right wing, and reflexively beat back with it. The impact made a sickening crunch as the hard metal edge of his wing plate connected firmly with the Diamond Dog’s unprotected head, and put a visible bleeding depression in his skull casing.
The creature roared in pain and clawed at its head, giving Carradan a target once more.
The second time, he was ready for the kick of the weapon, and he landed several rounds in critical areas, emptying the clip as he yowled in fear and held the trigger down.
The distraction was all Wrenn needed, from his position in the air, he brought his sword down in a tight arc, separating the Diamond Dog’s head from its beefy shoulders in one neat swift motion while the creature's polearm was out of position.
He dropped to two legs, and shook some of the blood off his sword, “Good shot Stan. I warned you about that barrel pull.”
Wrenn readied his sword, and vaulted forward, entering the fray with Kephic.
“What *took* you so long?!”
Wrenn glowered as he coordinated his next slash with Kephic’s next stab, “He was more capable with that weapon than I expected. Who *are* these guys?”
Kephic narrowly missed cleanly stabbing one of the remaining hostiles through the heart, and cursed, “Diamond Dogs. These particular ones are bulldogs. Some of the subspecies and clans are honorable, others, like these...”
He paused to duck under a polearm and put a two foot gash in the arm that was wielding it, “...Are mongrel mercenaries and will fight for anyone who pays. They may not have our eyes or reflexes...” he finally scored a killing blow, and went to work battering at Wrenn’s new opponent from behind, “...But they have stronger bones, thicker skins, more muscles, incredible noses, and deadly pack instinct and hunting capabilities.”
Kephic’s battering opened up a hole in his enemy’s defense, and Wrenn stabbed him to the heart, taking a harsh blow to the side of his helmet in the process.
“Sonofabitch! Those things have some reach...”
He clutched the side of his aching head with one claw, and kicked the dead dog’s weapon vindictively, sending it spinning off into a corner.
Kephic looked down at the three corpses, working one wing to ease the bruising where one of the enemy’s vicious looking claws had nearly torn him a large gash, “I don’t understand why they would work for the PER. It makes sense that they would have connections in Equestria, and the transports on this side to ferry them here... But Diamond Dog Trolls only accept payment in precious stones. Diamonds, Rubies, Emeralds, Amethyst...”
Wrenn raised an eyebrow, “We mastered cheap synthetic crafting of gems a long time ago.”
Kephic stared in shock, “You can make synthetic precious stones?”
Wrenn chuckled, “Where have you been for the last year? We’ve been able to do that since last century.”
Kephic shook his head, “But... Your synthetic materials can’t pass through the barrier... Surely even the Diamond Dogs know that?”
Wrenn shrugged, “Unless they are bringing raw non-valuable materials with them from Equestria, getting them made into precious stones here with processes that don't add anything to the mix, then shipping them home as payment. That would work right?”
Kephic looked shell shocked, “I... I suppose... We’ll have to ask someone better qualified... Now isn’t the time. We have to get clear and send the reactor up, then we can break radio silence, call in the strike.”
Wrenn nodded, “The sooner that poison is gone, the better I’ll feel.”
Kephic looked over at Carradan, who was shakily getting to his feet, “Don’t forget your camera. You won't want to miss filming this.”
Sildinar finished removing his enemy’s throat with a clenched claw just as the room rocked violently and the sound of a gigantic explosion reached his ears.
He stood, wiping his gory talons on the Diamond Dog’s corpse, and moved to the control panel. He didn’t know what all the system displays meant, but most of them had turned vibrant shades of red, meaning Wrenn and Kephic had been successful in their mission.
Varan stood with a back paw over general Piety’s throat, claws extended, ensuring that she didn’t so much as flinch, “That sounded like something large and important.”
Before Sildinar could answer, Wrenn’s voice came over the radio, “Goalie, this is offense one, jamming, defenses, and central power are *down,* you are clear in. Repeat, defensive systems offline. Strike. Strike. Strike.”
Sildinar took a moment to smile at the general, “Sorry. Lights out.”
He batted her into unconsciousness with the butt of his RAC.
Lantry nearly spewed his tea everywhere when the call came in, “Goalie, this is offense one, jamming, defenses, and central power are *down,* you’re clear in. Repeat, defensive systems offline. Strike. Strike. Strike.”
Skye grinned and did an imitation fist pump, “Yes! They made it!”
Hutch clapped her on the back and smiled.
Lantry leaned over the holotable, and tapped a control to open a wide-band commline, “Strike force offense two, this is Goalie; commence attack operations.”
Chatter, both from the strike force, and from various operators in the control room, began to fill up the comm lines; “Roger, commencing strike.”
“This is Goalie, VTOL wings one and two snap to two five seven and proceed west.”
“ETA is four minutes on combat zone, weapons free.”
“Goalie, Fullback, proceeding with insertion.”
“Raleigh, this is Goalie, clear for surface operations, deploy strike package Reaper to standby for close support.”
“Goalie, Raleigh, switching surface configuration. Rolling out strike package Reaper.”
Somewhere east of Kansas, the surface of the Mississippi exploded, giving birth to the UES Raleigh. The ship powered forward, its steering fins forcing it onto an even plane as its bow doors opened and its weapons issued forth from every available aperture.
“Sat vision twelve, full uplink established, Goalie; we are locked in and ready.”
“Deploy medivac on station, rear landing pad.”
“All railguns loaded, awaiting support fire orders”
“Missile pods armed.”
“Cat one! Cat two! Reaper away.”
The second the ship was stable, two Scythes rocketed off their magnetic catapults, turning west and disappearing into the teal of the breaking dawn accompanied by the eerie thuds and moisture cones of supersonic flight.
Two miles east of Carrenton, the air filled with the angry buzz of VTOLs in forward flight configuration. Below, two tank battalions kicked up an enormous cloud of dust as they revved their engines and sprang forward, the twin tactical railguns sprouting from each turret ready to dispense death and fury.
“Fullback, this is Goalie, commence lineup; split battalions for a pincer attack. Offense two, accelerate intrusion, put troops on the ground in five.”
Half of the tanks peeled off, turning slightly north to come at the enemy from a different direction.
Overhead the VTOLs canted forward and increased throttle.
“Goalie, this is offense one, we haven’t seen any air support on station, and taking out main power eliminated anti-air emplacements. Weak points are at grids C-12, B-18, and D-9.”
“Offense two, Goalie; Be advised Weak points are at grids C-12, B-18, and D-9. Enemy air support not expected, initiate fast-strike maneuvers.”
Security was definitely aware of their presence. After the second call on the radio, Wrenn, Kephic, and Carradan were swarmed by human PER soldiers.
There were just enough enemy contacts that Kephic didn’t want to risk trying to take them all, so they dug in behind an old burned-out storefront, and resolved to hold back the tide until support arrived.
They did not have to wait long.
“Offense one, this is offense two; the party is here!”
The air erupted into gouts of flame, as tracer shells and small dumb-fire short range rockets streaked out from the first VTOLs and tore into the PER security troopers.
While the initial line of craft hovered and ripped apart the enemy with automatic anti-personnel railgun fire, the second, third, and fourth lines landed throughout the compound and disgorged Special Forces Marines.
The PER’s potion rifles were no match for the inanimate gunship hulls, and none of the security forces Wrenn had spotted carried any conventional weapons, making their resistance ineffective.
Somewhere in the distance, Wrenn’s ears picked out the sound of a mortar. Apparently the PER had managed get some of its defensive emplacements working again.
A moment later, the distinctive and much louder thunder of an attacking tank battalion answered in kind.
The combined waves of soldiers, and steady stream of gunship fire, quickly eviscerated the defenses for most of the area. A black armor clad soldier with the Earthgov emblem on one shoulder piece marched up.
Kephic smiled, “So glad you could get in on the fun.”
The soldier pointed at the enormous smoking crater that had been the poison chamber and power core, “That your work?”
Wrenn shook his head, “Work?” he jerked his head towards the ruined patch of ground, “That's what I do for leisure.”
Lantry, Skye, and Hutch stared down at the holotable, as a combination of satellite imaging, and AI processing of gun-cams and LADAR, painted a perfect and complete picture of the unfolding battle.
Red enemy icons were winking out at an accelerating rate, replaced by a tide of green shapes representing the attacking force.
ConSec troops had joined the fray, mainly to take Ponies prisoner and escort them out of the combat zone. They were represented by blue icons, which were systematically entering buildings, rounding up the relatively passive Equines and any humans that would immediately surrender, and carting them off to row upon row of APCs converted into secure prisoner transports for the mission.
Skye nosed up against the hologram inquisitively, “This doesn’t seem *so* bad...”
Lantry took a gulp from his, now thrice refilled, flask, “It’s never over, until its *over*.”
Sildinar and Varan had dispensed with General Piety, leaving her in the care of a Special Forces squad, and were now going room to room in the central command building, obliterating anything that moved.
Varan skidded to a halt and poked his head down a side corridor.
Sildinar stopped and cocked his head, “What?”
“This area is marked ‘brig.’ ”
Wordlessly, the two Gryphons agreed it would be worth exploring.
At the end of the corridor they found entrances to several well appointed rooms.
Two were empty, but two were playing host to ponies.
The PER did not look kindly on members who wanted to leave their ‘herd’, and had been known to lock up recalcitrant ponies, under good but stiflingly confining conditions, until they ‘saw the light.’
Varan took the first cell, which was occupied by an orange Pegasus pony with bright green eyes, filled to the brim with tears, and an unkempt frizzy black mane. The Gryphon didn’t know the first thing about comforting a frightened, upset Pony, so he simply slung the poor Equine gently over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Sildinar had better luck with his charge, a cyan unicorn with silvery mane, and soul piercing sad blue eyes. She had opted to follow the Gryphon under her own power, once he explained why they were there.
Sildinar glanced disapprovingly at Varan’s ‘cargo’, “You could have asked.”
Varan shook his head, “I’ll be gentle but we don’t have time to be diplomatic.”
Sildinar decided not to argue, Varan did have a good point, and they set off at an easy lope to deliver the rescued Ponies to an evacuation transport.
Wrenn was finally beginning to get the hang of true swordplay. The unit he, Carradan, and Kephic had taken up with, had run across another small pack of Diamond Dogs.
Wrenn and Kephic had ordered the humans to stay back and guard Carradan.
Even an armored trooper was a poor match for a metric ton of angry canine vitriol.
The best tactic, Kephic said, was to separate them as far from each other as possible.
As a pack unit, they were nearly invincible, so blitz style distractions and separating maneuvers were the only viable initial attack.
Once they were out of range of their subtle system of communication and signals, the cooperation would break down, and taking out each individual became much easier, since Trolls' strength was most definitely not intelligence.
Wrenn fell into a rhythm of movement, he began to see how Kephic was able to match two nearly physically equal opponents and stave both off with his superior intelligence and flexibility.
In the outdoor environment, their wings became a major advantage, letting them effectively dance to and fro just out of reach of their enemies, and constantly move to stay behind them or flank them.
Both Gryphons were bruised and battered, fighting Diamond Dogs wasn’t like fighting humans; They were deadly adversaries without the need for heavy anti-vehicle weapons and mechanized armor to try and level the playing field.
Despite the danger, the last canine enemy finally fell to a joint sword slash; Wrenn came down from above, Kephic in from the side.
One of the soldiers snorted, “I’ve never seen anything like that before. How do you do that?! You like... Disappeared you were going so fast!”
Carradan smiled, “They have a more complex nervous system. Son, let me tell ya, you should feel privileged to have been here today.”
Wrenn rolled his eyes, “Knock it off Stan. Just focus on recording.”
Lantry bent over the holotable and glowered. Something was definitely wrong.
Satellite imaging was showing anomalous heat signatures, slowly coming to life, in a perimeter around Carrenton.
Hutch stared at the pattern of reds and yellows as the blobs began to form into more angular, technological shapes, “Mother of God... It’s an ambush!”
Lantry slammed his fist into the comm-plate; “All strike forces! Prepare for inbound unknown attackers! Disengage and wrap things up! Switch to condition five. Playtime is *over,* torch the facility and dig in.”
Sildinar watched, in grim amazement, as a VTOL suddenly burst into flames and spiraled down towards the ground. Almost instantly, the other craft still in the air deployed flares, but it did no good. Missiles streaked down from above, blasting the gunships to slivers.
With the roar of old-style turbine engines, two sleek gray shapes dropped from the sky, fins opening on their backs to reveal hover fans. The two F-35-IV Enhanced Joint Strike Fighters opened up with their forward guns, forcing everyone in the area to dive for cover, as they slowly strafed back and forth, seeking out targets of opportunity.
Out beyond the boundaries of Carrenton, just beyond the perimeter of the PER’s sensors, tan metal beasts began to dig their way out of the dirt. AHWN-44 ‘Mole Rat’ APCs were designed for desert warfare; The idea was to dig the tank down into the sand where it would be hidden, both from sight and heat sensors.
When the time was right, the vehicle would use pneumatic fins to force itself back to the surface, and hopefully catch some enemy unawares. The Mole Rats were painted with the crimson circle and fist of the HLF, and were full to the brim with troopers in beige armor.
Human troopers. Human troopers who would do anything, and everything, to stay that way.
The war for Carrenton was officially on.
Varan belly-crawled to a concrete slab, behind which Kephic, Wrenn, and Carradan had taken cover, “What are those?!”
Wrenn popped his head up for a brief look, “Old Joint Strike Fighters! HLF colors! They must have known we were coming...”
Kephic nodded, “Decided to ambush everyone once we were busy with each other. Clever.”
Carradan looked confused, “I thought F-35s hadn’t been in service for *decades*?!”
Wrenn shook his head, shouting to make himself heard over the saw-toothed roar of the guns, “They *haven’t!* But the HLF got their hands on a few... My guess is they upgraded them with modern jammers and missiles!”
Varan glanced up at the gray menacing shapes, a red human fist painted on the left wing of each, “How are we gonna deal with them?”
Wrenn smiled, “Fire with fire.”
He tapped his headset, “Goalie! This is offense one, do you copy?”
“Offense one! What is your status?! we have multiple ground and air contacts inbound to your position!”
“Its the HLF sir! They’ve been lying in ambush! We’re pinned down by enemy airborne Hostiles! Light attack craft, hover config, attack vector south by southwest, Angels two, tack west. Be advised they took out VTOLs despite countermeasures, don’t play nice with these turkeys.”
“Understood. Roll in strike package Reaper, I authenticate; echo echo one niner eight, at time zero seven hundred zulu. Warning danger close two hundred.”
Another voice rang out on the channel, “Roger, dispatch the Scythes to killbox three beta, danger close fire mission, friendlies within two hundred meters, weapons free and hot, kill order authenticated.”
“Reaper, proceed to waypoint charlie two and engage two hostiles in killbox three beta. Angels two, tacking west.”
“Goalie, Reaper One, acknowledged. Danger close two hundred, tracking bogeys at Angels two tack west, arming Shivas.”
High above, two Earthgov Northrop/Boeing Dynamics FA-26 Scythes changed course, and pointed their state of the art targeting computers down at the enemy F-35s.
“No lock! Target is jamming, activating ECCM suite.”
Wrenn cursed under his breath, then checked his RAC-8. Sure enough, the tactical attachment at the bottom was still intact. He flicked a switch, and a tiny shaft of green laser light issued forth from the module.
He tapped his headset again, “Lasing the target! Beamrider on frequency two two eight!”
Wrenn held the weapon up over the concrete slab, aimed the beam at the first enemy target, and frantically motioned for Kephic to do the same for the second.
The black and white Gryphon complied, muttering, “Let’s hope they didn’t upgrade them too much...”
The beamriders transmitted location data back to Fort Hamilton via a satellite. The AI in the facility processed the information, combining it with windspeed, target profile, and a million other variables, before re-transmitting the data to the two Scythes’ targeting computers.
A mile above the battle, and three miles out, the fighter’s own onboard AIs received the data and accounted for Coriolis effect, aircraft speed, gravity, and altitude.
The voice of Reaper one’s pilot filled the comm channels, “Lock acquired on beamrider, Fox three. Shiva away.”
A hidden panel on the fighter’s port side flicked open just long enough for a sleek black shape to break free of a mounting clamp and rocket off under its own considerable power.
The black deadly cylinder shot through the Kansas sky at four times the speed of sound, it’s sophisticated internal ‘brain’ reading continued instructions from the beamrider far below by way of the satellite uplink.
The missile imaged the two F-35-IVs through its nine forward cameras in less than three seconds of closing to visual range, acquired its own lock, and effectively put an end to any chance of error.
Or escape.
When it got within a mile, the nosecone shattered, revealing six smaller missiles which pushed off under their own power, each with their own locking computer, which inherited data from the parent device, and their own propulsion, capable of Mach two.
Four went for the jet on the right, two opted for the one on the left.
Only one was really necessary for a kill.
It was over before the stunned HLF pilots even received the ‘MISSILE LOCK’ warning in their helmets.
The miniature sidewinder devices tore through the two offending aircraft as though they were so much obstructing tissue paper. The warheads waited to detonate until the delivery computers indicated that the weapons were buried up to their fins in critical system components.
The compression waves from the four instruments of death reached the fuel tank on the first aircraft, ending its life in an expanding conflagration that reduced the metal of the airframe to something best described as a box of confetti.
The second craft fared slightly better, losing one wing and both tail fins, it spiraled out of control towards the ground, fire spewing from the engine. Midway down, the cockpit broke off and shredded itself from the torque. No ejection, no chute.
The rest of the jet slammed into the dirt and plowed up enough ground to plant a whole row of corn and then some, its momentum finally arrested by a building, which the twisted airframe then became a part of by way of embedding itself in the first floor.
Varan stared, “Do you suppose your superiors might put us in contact with the designer of that weapon?”
Wrenn chuckled, “Getting envious are we?”
Varan leapt from behind the concrete block and swept the area with his weapon, squeezing off a shot at one of the few straggling PER troopers, “Just investing in the potential future of weapons technology.”
“Uuhuhhh. So I should add it to your Christmas list then?”
Kephic glanced inquisitively at Wrenn, firing blindly and catching another straggling enemy in the head with the round, “Christmas?”
“Uuuummmm..... Hearth’s Warming eve.”
Varan shrugged, “Oh. Well, if you can afford it...”
“Ah no.”
The golden Gryphon smirked, “I thought not.”
Overhead, the thunder of jet engines drew everyone’s attention as the two Scythes became entangled in a dogfight with five reinforcement F-35s.
The aerial threat was not going to be dispatched quite so easily.
Thanks to General Lantry’s warning, the HLF tanks did not roll into Carrenton unopposed.
Earthgov forces had setup a quick defensive perimeter with their own tank battalions, and the few PER defensive mortars that hadn’t been destroyed in the initial onslaught.
The line wasn’t complete, however, and many of the Mole Rat APCs were able to break through and drive straight into the town. The rest became mired in an artillery battle with the Earthgov tanks. To anyone listening, it might have sounded like a thunderstorm; Loud booming muzzle reports followed by cacophonous explosions. The air was alive with shells.
The APCs that did make it through opened their rear doors and disgorged soldier after soldier.
The beige clad troopers were not interested in prisoners. They slew any who crossed their path without mercy, or remorse.
From a nearby side-street, a cry rang out and a small contingent of Earthgov marines cut loose with rocket launchers.
From then on, it was all going to be urban warfare.
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Despite laggy internet; today is an action double feature, with an epic third part conclusion to the battle to follow at some point.
I have travel plans tomorrow, so I'm unsure exactly how soon it will be up, but the wait won't be long.
Maybe Today, maybe tomorrow, no later than the day after for sure.
For now, sit back, and enjoy the fireworks.
Holy crap...
i0.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/002/252/me-gusta.jpg
So if they're fighting the HLF, does that mean they're now authorized for Operation: Nuke the Fuckers?
744388
huh?
To what are you referring?
I'm confused... (frazzled from all the words... so many words today...)
744314
Sorta
744314
Except friendly fire isn't.
And you know, I can see the griffins making Carradan an offer, or at least giving him real respect. After all, he held his shit together in the fight, and even helped in that fight. He's no A.E. Pentasmal, but he's not bad.
PERxEarthGovxHLF showdown? This is what I have been waiting for since my first TCB fic. You beautiful bastard, you.
Oh sci-fi war. How I love you so...
You've either done your homework or you can Dan Browne it with the best of 'em! Whee! Whoosh! Boom!
You've either done your homework or you can Dan Browne it with the best of 'em! Whee! Whoosh! Boom!
I apologise for all of the comments, but I do keep noticing little things. I hope you don't mind.
Should this be italicised with the rest of the sequence?
And see, it's just like I said. Anyone who thought the Gryphon species was overpowered clearly wasn't paying attention. They aren't scaled for our world; they're scaled for their own. This power disparity should be as existentially horrifying to the people of a dying earth as it should be exhilarating for anyone considering Gryphonization.
Leveraging his temporal judgment, training, and Kephic as a role model for how to fight this species. Using all three things in conjunction is a brilliant use of training, experience, and natural ability.
This exchange made me chuckle. It also implies that Kephic's interest in Earth has been almost entirely martial, and so he hasn't really immersed himself too much in the culture or science writ large.
11568514
Beautifully said!
We stan Wrenn. He is smarter than he sometimes looks.
Very very true. The guy loves his guns.