Hegira: Option Gamma

by Guardian_Gryphon

Chapter 41

"Listen up people because I'm only gonna say his name *once.* Tiro Vanberg."

Hutch placed his hands on the JRSF situation room table. The slick, cool surface sapped some of the moisture from his hands, "That name is the only shot we have at putting a quick and happy ending to this screwed up little fairy tale, so I want you all at the *top* of your game. No stone unturned, no instinct unfollowed, no intuition discarded. No idea is too stupid. Find him. Yesterday."

The Human and Pony technicians clumped around the table dispersed, pairing off, and grouping together in small gaggles to trade ideas, and discuss search strategies.

Earthgov didn't consider the name that the group had brought back to be 'actionable intelligence,' but Hutch had called in favors, and the JRSF support staff were being augmented by ConSec personnel called in from the Conversion Bureaus in Manhattan, and several other nearby cities.

The dispersal of personnel left Hutch, Fyrenn, Kephic, Varan, Neyla, Carradan, Sildinar, General Sorven, and three other Gryphons, including Seyal, standing at the table.

Sildinar nodded curtly, "Very well then. This is the final push. I shouldn't have to remind anyone what is at stake. We all have unique skills to bring to bear... Shall we put an end to this menace?"

Fyrenn nodded his assent. He was tired, having only slept three hours the night before, but he was ready to work. He could see the same cold, unyielding determination in the faces of his compatriots; Human, Gryphon, and Pony alike.

There was an atmosphere of tension, a peculiar static charge akin to the sensation one might feel when a summer storm was brewing. The stakes were potentially the highest anyone in the group had faced before. The tantalizing potential reward was also the greatest chance at striking a blow for peace that had been seen in decades.

Fyrenn found himself holed up in a small ante-room working with Kephic and Chuck.
The hope was that their two varied and unique perspectives would allow them to make creative use of the exceptionally powerful AI, which was rehomed to Fort Hamilton's server complex as a military seek-and-attack tactical asset.

For the first few hours, the brothers only spoke to collaborate on their task.
They quickly exhausted several unconventional leads that had occurred to Fyrenn, much to their mutual disappointment.

After a time, they settled into a dismally repetitive pattern of thinking up a task for Chuck, setting the AI loose, then quietly dreaming up the next inconceivably complicated, twisted avenue of questioning.

During a particularly long processing lag, Fyrenn sighed and shook his head, showing the first signs of fatigue he had consciously allowed himself to display in days, "What do we do? If it *was* all for nothing in the end?"

Kephic shrugged, his wings nearly filling half the space in the room during the motion, "We find another way. War with a dishonorable opponent is not like Chess. When you dislike the lay of the board, you don't acquiesce. You change the rules. You cheat, you lie, you steal, you poison, and backstab, and deceive, and you do *whatever* else you must to win. So long as you leave the non-combatants out of it, and remember who your friends are. Nothing else matters."

Fyrenn snorted, "Some code of conduct."

"There is only one code. Respect the innocent, defend your kind, your honor, those under your protection, and your family. There are no other rules in unbound war. And the PER do not strike me as the type to agree to honor-bound rules of strife..."

"No no... I get it... And I agree. It's just a surprising and not unwelcome change from the combat rulebooks I was trained with. A lot of people call Earthgov's operating procedures 'loose,' but in the end anything beyond what you described really is overly binding."

Fyrenn paused and glanced at his brother, "I just want to make their deaths worth it."
He didn't have to elaborate. They both understood he was referring to Skye and Shroud, and more so the former.

Kephic nodded, "I understand the urge. But you have already made their deaths worthwhile simply by learning from the events that transpired. Varan always likes to say, 'Pain is one of the mortars that holds the stones of our lives together.' That has been universally true, from my experience. Regrets are foolish, but the pain of an event should stay with you on some level. Pain is one of the only sure ways to not simply remember something conceptually, but emotionally. And that is how we learn. How any living thing learns. By remembering things emotionally."

Fyrenn shook his head thoughtfully, "I never did believe in chance, or fate, or luck. God gives everything a purpose, pain included. There is a plan to it all... Not that we can always see it. Sometimes it's just taxing to remember that.
Emotionally."

Kephic leaned over, and encircled his adopted brother with one wing, "Well, if nothing else, when you're having trouble remembering, keep in mind that without the pain of past ills we wouldn't be here. You and I. Family."

Fyrenn placed a foreleg around Kephic's shoulders and squeezed once affectionately, "I think I missed out... Not having any siblings when I was younger. Thanks."

Kephic released his wing, and folded the limb away, "That's what I'm here for."

As if on cue, the terminal before them warbled to indicate that Chuck had completed the latest insane task the pair had managed to devise. Fyrenn could see, even from a relaxed position leaning back in his chair, that the results were less than favorable.

He sighed, "Enough processing power to run half a city, and we're still coming up short.
Any more bright ideas?"

Beyond the plexiglass windows of the Fort Hamilton mess hall, the rain was still coming down at a breakneck pace. Fyrenn had a momentary flash of memory. He recalled the day after the maglev bombing, how he had stared out a similar window and traced the patterns of the water droplets idly, and morosely.

He had been more or less without sight then. Dead eyes, no wings, and no living friends or family to speak of.

The contrast between that grim evening, and the current windswept stormy day boggled his mind. Danger aside; He had eyes. Wings. Friends. Even a family.

The realization brought him a welcome momentary sense of peace and comfort.
Kephic, Varan, and Sildinar had all taken breaks to eat hours before, Fyrenn had been the stubborn holdout.

Finally, Kephic had threatened to put him in a headlock if he didn't take an hour off to rest his mind, and fill his stomach. Secretly, Fyrenn was happy to oblige. He was starving, and his head was spinning, despite his not inconsequential brain power and memory skills.

As a team, he and Kephic had used Chuck to process several hundred gigaquads of information over the past hours. A dizzying amount of data by anyone's standards.

And still, Tiro Vanberg was nothing more than a name. An elusive dead end unassociated name with no history, not even so much as a minor traffic violation.

As he gathered a massive portion of synth-meat, Fyrenn wondered what kind of genius it would take to erase one's own digital footprint so utterly in an age that was interconnected to the point that even the average child of age four, even one who had by some miracle never touched an internet integrated device, cast a multi-gigabyte data shadow.

His ruminations were abruptly cut short, as he discovered Neyla at the end of the buffet, picking apart a synthetic gelatin dessert. She was trying to peel away the layers with her talons, but the digits of her claw were so sharp, that each layer only yielded more underneath.

He chuckled, "You know that's not how you eat it. Gelatin is nasty anyways."

Neyla glanced up, "Well that what would you suggest?"

"For one thing? Don't eat here. Military rations are packaged synthetic nutrition, and about zip-else short of unpalatable bonding agents to keep it all together in a colored chewable mass."

"Where are we going to go at this hour, in this weather?"

Fyrenn laughed, drawing the attention of a few off-duty soldiers with the volume of his mirth, "What do you mean' at this hour'? This is New York. They call it the city that never sleeps.
You could find better food, and drink, on almost every street corner at any hour of the day or night, rain or shine. I don't doubt Times Square will be open for business right up until the nanosecond the Bubble hits and the military kicks everyone who is left out, at gunpoint."

Neyla smirked, "Well then. Show me the city that never sleeps. Sildinar threatened to club me if I came back before my break hour was complete. I imagine Kephic threatened you similarly."

"Yeah. Headlock."

"Aaah. Well for our own good then, we should seek out a decent meal."

Fyrenn grimaced down at his synth-meat, then upended the plate into the recycler bin, "Yecch. Yeah you got that right. I'm actually ok with most synth-meats. But this stuff looks more akin to ten year old camshaft lubricant."

He grinned at Neyla mischievously, "Let's go hunting. Manhattanite style."

The rain had partially abated by the time Neyla and Fyrenn managed to check out of the military complex, and reach the street. They could have simply flown out, but Fyrenn felt it was prudent to leave information on their plans with the officer of the watch, and pick up a secure DaTab in case someone should need to reach them.

The two Gryphons opted to walk, at Neyla's behest. She wanted to see New York first from a Human's Earth-centric perspective, then from above again afterwards. It was still raining in a fine mist, but it wasn't steady enough to penetrate the pair's water-resistant feathers and fur.

Fyrenn didn't think it would be advisable to cram the two of them into a metal can buried underground, so he decided on a small eatery that was close enough that it wouldn't force them to fly or use the subway.

For the first few minutes, Neyla simply took in the sights. She didn't speak, but Fyrenn could see she was entranced with the architecture first, then shifted her gaze to the signs, clothing, and electronics on display, both within storefronts and on the populace.

Fyrenn finally broke the silence, "Would you believe that only a few centuries ago, almost none of this existed? The city was barely a fifth this size, if that. None of this technology was even a gleam in the eyes of inventors and scientists. It wasn't that long ago Humanity was fighting with non-rifled weapons, and sailing in wooden ships..."

Neyla shook her head, "And now; Achievements that seem almost unsurpassable. These towering structures... The way data is sent and received so innocuously... Is this to be our future?"

Fyrenn shrugged, "Anything is possible. Just ask any of these people. None of them are even remotely used to the idea of Gryphons walking down fifth avenue... And they've been cohabitating with Ponies already for years."

He snorted and grinned, "Look at *me* for crying out loud... I never would have thought any of..." he gestured to his wings, "...This, was possible. Yet here we are. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if we end up using repeating weapons, and Thaumatic computers well before the end of the century. All thanks to that spark of Human ingenuity."

Neyla paused, and scratched at the concrete beneath her talons, "You know I always assumed that those who told tales of the Human capacity for invention were exaggerating."
She looked up at Fyrenn, her expression disconcertingly serious, "Truth is? Those tales didn't tell the half of it. I'm a little frightened... Change is good, but it's a balancing act. We have to keep sight of the difference between being *able* to change something, and whether or not it is *wise* to do so."

Fyrenn inclined his head, "We'll manage it. I have no doubt. I've seen what we are; The traditions, and morals, and beliefs, and customs we are steeped in... We're a race well suited to Converts of a certain disposition. I think we're going to live to see something incredible."

Neyla smiled, "Ever the optimist?"

"Always. Though for a few years there it was hard to see."

The pair resumed walking, Neyla raised an eyebrow, "You? Depressed? Cynical? I don't believe it for a moment."

Fyrenn shook his head, "Believe it. I've been a near-suicidal wreck several times in my life, mostly thanks to a serious penchant for misjudging people, or missing warning signs."

"I know how that feels. Believe me."

The two Gryphons lapsed into silence, until Neyla began sniffing, "What *is* that smell?"

Fyrenn chuckled, "That is an eclectic mix of electronic cigarette, machinery coolant, cleaning solvent, rubber, hot steel, and twenty different kinds of food from street vendors, restaurants, and surrounding kitchens. The smell of a city."

"Are we actually going to hunt down any of that food you promised?"

Fyrenn chuckled, "We could have just flown, you know. If you were *that* hungry. It's only another two blocks."

The Gryphons reached a crosswalk blocked by a stream of oncoming traffic.
Fyrenn grinned, "I've always wanted to do this." He launched himself into the air, and casually glided over the stream of vehicles, touching down effortlessly on the opposite side of the intersection. Neyla followed suit.

The action drew a fair amount of attention from passers by, all entranced by the image of a supposedly mythical creature reveling in an oft fantasized simple solution to an everyday problem.

Neyla grinned, and leaned in close, whispering, "You'd think we just performed some sort of incredible feat given their reactions."

Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, "This is incredible to *me* still. How much more to them? Humanity has always wondered if we were alone in the universe. Seeing that question answered by a creature from myth and legend is a transcendent experience. It changes *everything.*"

Finally, the pair arrived at their destination; A small combination bistro, bar, and grill tucked away in an alley, part of one of the oldest buildings still standing in New York. The establishment was a tribute to the so called '90s,' referring to the decade of the 1990s.

Fyrenn loved every inch of it.

Posters for classic TV series covered the walls. A lit glass case above the bar prominently displayed a vast collection of plastic figurines. Superheroes, action heroes, spies, shape-shifting robots... Fyrenn even thought he spotted a set of ironically and familiarly proportioned pastel equines.

The crown jewel was a vintage 1995 era computer tucked into a corner booth, complete with a period ergonomic keyboard, CRT monitor, and zip drive.

Fyrenn found it hard to believe that anyone had ever eked out an existence with purely Turing-complete systems, and hard drives so limited you could barely fit any data onto their spinning rust in the first place.

Neyla spent a moment taking in her new surroundings, "What *is* all of this?"

Fyrenn smiled and sighed deeply in enjoyment, "Pop culture. Easily one of the best things Humanity ever invented."

Neyla stepped over to one of the glass-encased posters on the wall, "Why would a human dress up as a Bat and swing from rooftops suspended on a thin cable?"

"Because it makes damn good television."

Fyrenn guided Neyla to the bar, where he dropped the height on two stools to accommodate them. The stools made the best choice of seating, being easy to perch on by sitting on their haunches.

The bartender looked largely unfazed at the presence of two Gryphons in his restaurant.
"What can I get you and your lady friend here?"

Fyrenn and Neyla both shook their heads adamantly, speaking over each other in broken sentence fragments, "We're not---"
"He's just a---"
"Well you see it's more of a sibling---"

The bartender grinned mischievously, "Oh I see. 'S like that is it? Well all the same, what'll it be? It's mostly synth, but the Burgers have Equestrian cheese and bread now, so they're palatable."

Neyla raised an eyebrow, "Burger?"

Fyrenn smiled, "We'll take two. And a pair of root beers, and..." He glanced back at the menu again, "You have *real* french fries?!"

The bartender nodded, "Benefits of Equestrian potatoes and oils. They ain't cheap, but they're real."

Fyrenn grinned like a five year old at Christmas, "We'll have two of the biggest baskets of those you can possibly make."

As the man moved back into the kitchen to prepare their orders, Neyla turned to Fyrenn and cocked her head, "So french fries are... Fried potatoes in oils?"

"You make it sound so dull. It's a revelation of taste."

"You've had real ones before?"

Fyrenn nodded, "Once and only once. Shortly after Equestrian food started coming in over here, I treated myself. Not a lot of places make em though; They're tough to get just right, and very very unhealthy."

Neyla chuckled, "Then why in the world would anyone eat them?"

Fyrenn smirked, "The unhealthier a fried food is, the better it tastes. But hey... I doubt you and I are going to put on any extra pounds, no matter how much grease, salt, and fat we ingest.
Not with our metabolisms."

When the sodas arrived, Fyrenn showed Neyla how to use a straw. Soda had always been a mostly synthetic product, so modern versions of the drink had a high level of fidelity.

Neyla threaded one end of the straw through her beak, and took a tentative sip.
Her expression, upon encountering her first taste of carbonation, drove Fyrenn to fits of laughter.

"You should see your face! I wish I had a picture!" Fyrenn continued to indulge in his mirth, while Neyla glared with mock disdain.

"You could have warned me."

He wiped a tear from his eyes, "Oh but this way was so much better."

The meal progressed well. The bartender had been right; The Equestrian cheese and bread almost managed to mask the fact that the Burger meat was synthetic.

The French Fries swiftly became Neyla's favorite Earth food, a fact she avidly declared as she pined for a second basket.

Fyrenn was happy to oblige. The salty treat was even better than he had remembered.

The conversation mostly lingered on the history of Human technology, culture, and politics.

Neyla was familiar with the more recent major events in Human history, but she was eager to hear more about the race's technological accomplishments since the destruction of the sky, and the way things had been before that event culturally.

Fyrenn was happy to relate answers to as many questions as he could.
He kept an eye to the clock, however, and was sorry when it came time to return to Fort Hamilton.
For once in his life, a personal interaction seemed more important than a critical mission task.

The realization troubled him, and he was silent for the entire flight back to the fort, a fact Neyla failed to comment on, as she was too busy examining the city from above.

When they arrived, they discovered Carradan taking a Coffee break in the situation room.
Fyrenn queried, "Found anything?" Carradan's negative response was a foregone conclusion; the DaTab Fyrenn had checked out had never rung, and Carradan had seemed more than a little depressed when they entered the room. Asking was more of a formality than anything.

Fyrenn shrugged, "Oh well. On we go. Trying to beat the clock."

Neyla snorted, "I'd be happier if we *had* a clock to beat. At least then we'd have some idea of when the PER are going to make their move."

Carradan nodded, "Amen to that."

The group continued to beat their heads against the considerable problem of locating Tiro Vanberg. They tried switching partners, switching tasks, brainstorming as a group, and any other tactic they could dream up.

Another nine hours passed that way, with only the occasional snack and Coffee to keep everyone awake and moving.

Most of the Gryphons, Carradan, and Hutch had ended up gathered around the JRSF situation room table, batting ideas back and forth periodically, and pursuing ultimately pointless leads individually, using terminal interfaces projected onto the table.

Fyrenn sighed and closed yet another application window, consigning another false lead to digital oblivion, "I'm beginning to think that Vanberg is an entirely fake identity. A Construct designed for precisely this eventuality, and highly limited uses to preserve maximum opsec."

Hutch grimaced, "Makes sense. But that'd leave us deep in the hole with no time left to climb out. We couldn't evacuate this city even if we could convince the government as a whole to acknowledge the severity of the threat---"

General Sorven interrupted Hutch's train of thought, letting herself in with a short knock as an afterthought, "How goes the infowar?"

Sildinar threw a DaTab to the table, rose, and began pacing.

"Badly."

Sorven stood with crossed arms, watching the group. Sildinar was pacing, Hutch was clutching his head in his hands. Carradan seemed busy staring out the window, Fyrenn was drawing relationship lines between events and evidence in an older case, and Neyla had fallen to toying with holographic models of mega-skyscrapers, trying futilely to guess where the PER might place its atomizers.

Sorven came over and stood behind Neyla, staring intently at each monochromatic blue wireframe mesh, in turn, as they winked in and out of existence at the insistence of Neyla's swift claws.

The General stiffened, and clutched a hand to her head, running it through her hair.
Her face was contorted with such exertion, that it drew everyone's attention.

Fyrenn cocked his head, "General? are you?"

"NO! Don't *anybody* say *anything!* I'm thinking..."
She stood that way just long enough that Fyrenn had begun to worry for her safety.
Then she finally burst out, "I have it!"

The general rushed from the room, leaving the group to exchange universally befuddled looks.
She returned a few minutes later with a physical file folder. The paper documents were rare, but not unheard of, most commonly appearing as physical backups of digital business transactions.

Sorven crowed triumphantly, "I *KNEW* I had seen this asshat's name SOMEwhere before..."
She threw the folder onto the table, causing the papers inside to slide out, revealing some sort of contractual document, and architectural blueprints for a mega-skyscraper.

Fyrenn could see the contents of the document, with his sharp eyes.
His beak hung open in shock, "Well I'll be damned."

Hutch snatched up the contractual document and skimmed it.

"Son of a bitch. This guy has been sitting right under our noses."

He threw the paper back onto the table, "In the Gavin/Schummel raid we found documents indicating they planned to purchase another building in Manhattan, ostensibly for PER operations. Guess who the original owner of the building is?"

Carradan and Varan spoke in unison, "Tiro Vanberg."

Neyla cocked her head, "Wait... That makes no sense. I understand why they might wish to 'purchase' a building they already own, to consolidate assets in some way... But why do so right before they plan to cause a major disaster in the area?"

Fyrenn snorted, "Oh psssh. Even *I* know that."

Carradan nodded, "Insurance fraud. GS corp has a way bigger policy on its assets than Vanberg could ever hope to have with whatever shell corporation he uses to keep ownership of the other skyscraper. if GS buys it outright before the big attack, the PER makes a *mint* in insurance on a huge new asset that they never had to pay premiums on. They turn a whopping profit---"

Kephic slammed his fist on the table, "A profit they could use to create a great deal more potion. Maybe even manage more big attacks."

Fyrenn strode to the window, and tapped the glass with a talon, "So you're telling me... This guy is right here?" He gestured to the building in question, "Right *there*? in full view? The PER is maintaining a headquarters in FULL VIEW of everyone in midtown Manhattan... And we missed it?"

Hutch chuckled dryly, "I guarantee you... Regardless of whatever else happens... Heads are gonna roll for *this.*"

"Satellite imaging confirms it. The PER have built themselves a thermobaric dispersal warhead."

A murmur swept the situation room. The heads of every JRSF platoon, as well as a bevy of volunteers from Fort Hamilton's reserve troops, had packed the space to its capacity.

General Sorven tapped the wall screen, zooming in on an artificially colored model of the PER tower as she spoke.

"They've housed the device in a hollowed out space inside twenty five of the upper floors of the building, in the second most quarter down from the top. When that bomb goes off, it's going to do damage to the upper floors, but more importantly..."

The General tapped a small arrow icon, and a simulation began to play out, "The shock front the detonation generates will act as a dispersing force. We're assuming this is where the Atomizers factor into the plan. Turning them on alone would eventually do the job, but it would take hours of time. Time they won't have. The central detonation will ensure that the potion gas is spread to the entire city almost instantaneously as a thick fog. Everyone outside will be affected immediately, and most buildings will quickly ingest it through their ventilation intakes. Nineteen MILLION people. Those are the stakes. No room for errors here."

Sorven vacated her position by the screen, turning the floor over to Sildinar.
The roan Gryphon gestured to the city map around the PER building, "We've begun extrapolating the most viable locations for the Atomizers, now that we know where the central detonation will be. Two thirds of you will be heading up teams investigating these sites. If we can take the Atomizers offline, it doesn't matter if the central warhead detonates. Worst comes to worst, a great many of the windows will need replacing in Manhattan."

The tepid joke drew a few half hearted chuckles. Sildinar continued, "Unfortunately, there are likely to be too many sites, and too little time. There is a good chance they intend to detonate the device shortly, so we have to assume we're working against the clock. The remaining one third of you, therefore, will be infiltrating and assaulting the tower itself, with the objective of rendering the Thermobaric warhead useless."

Hutch joined the Gryphon at his post beside the screen, "Normally, we'd have more time to prepare for an op this size, but since we're assuming time is on the enemy's side; We roll out in exactly one hour."

Sildinar nodded, "Brief and equip your squads. One more notice; This mission is exclusively threat-level red. No prisoners are to be taken. Human, Pony, or otherwise. *Anyone* on-site at the tower is to be considered an extreme threat, and is to be killed without quarter. For teams seeking out the Atomizers, any resistance, however mild, is to be met with deadly force, no warning required."

The revelation produced an uneasy murmur amongst the Humans and Ponies in the room.
Never before had a legitimate military agency endorsed treating Ponies as hostile targets.

Fyrenn shot a glance at Kephic and Varan, as the various section commanders dispersed, "Well... Now we've gone and put our claws in the soup."

Kephic grinned, "Oh I don't know... I'm looking forward to knocking these despicable people back to the, as they are so fond of calling it, 'stone age.' "

Varan growled, "I am merely looking forward to acquainting them with my grenade launcher."

Fyrenn glanced between his brothers, "First to the finish buys the drinks?"

Varan and Kephic answered in unison, "Deal."

Comments

[Guardian_Gryphon]

Next chapter; Tactical Excrement is Authorized.
Or for the Crysis fans among you; "Maximum BOOM."

[KeePony]

fried bread is croutons :) or if they've been dipped in a mixture of egg and milk first. French toast.

[Error_404_Not_Found]

1108418 Shit, I believe you've already been acquainted with Fan.
Oh yes, Context, we've met a few times before. How are you?
Eh, you know. I'm alright, but the job blows. Yourself?
Well, recently work's started to stink, but besides that, I'm legit.

[Guardian_Gryphon]

1108498
1109409
Whats sad is that I ought to have known that, but was so tired that I just wrote bread twice and didn't give it a second thought.

1109477
Hah! Now that's funny!

[MetBoy]

"Fyrenn even thought he spotted a set of ironically and familiarly proportioned pastel equines."

I see you went the same direction I did...

[Westphalian_Musketeer]

I had this song playing while I read the bar scene with Fyrenn and Neyla ...

This is getting intense, I've been loving this story, I'll say this, its better than the Splinter Cell novel I once read. And the best part is this is free! You sir should have all the moustache.