Hegira: Option Gamma

by Guardian_Gryphon

Chapter 7

The headquarters of the Human Liberation Front could tell any observer a great deal about the organization. Only the high level leadership, collectively known as ‘The Cabinet,’ was privy to the exact location of the facility, but even the average HLF soldier who had been there could tell that it was in the North American Midwest somewhere, given the usual high temperature and low humidity levels.

The installation itself had once been a secret US Military bunker. After the merging of world powers into Earthgov, the facility had been lost; the secret of its existence known to so few that it had vanished from all but a smattering of deeply buried paper documents.

When it had been discovered that the Equestrian bubble was growing, a group of military generals within Earthgov had called for an orbital strike, believing firmly that the royal sisters were responsible for the expansion despite their denials.

The Earthgov ruling council had voted unanimously to drop the motion, but not all of the military personnel involved had abandoned the idea, and thus began the HLF. A group of angry soldiers seeking a more proactive solution to the oncoming end of the world.

As Conversion debuted and began to generate momentum, and controversy, the HLF had morphed from a secret organization devoted to radical action to save Earth, into a paramilitary force dedicated to the extermination of Equestrian kind. The base, known simply as ‘HQ’ had been a secret ace held in reserve by one of the founding members of The Cabinet, an asset he was happy to donate to the cause of a 'free Earth.'

Mr. Utah had been part of the movement since its inception. Like all the members of The Cabinet, his codename was the only way he was officially known to members of the front.

Mr. Utah’s particular nome de guerre was derived from the names of the beaches at Normandy, the same as the other four members of his section. The Cabinet had four sections, each comprised of five members, all with code names derived from the second World War.

The corridors through which Mr. Utah walked were the purest expression of the HLF; concrete, steel, warning stripes, and harsh illumination from fluorescent lighting. Spartan, militaristic and aggressive, efficiency through and through. For a moment, he was reminded of the warehouse facilities under Manhattan. The only things missing were the shipping containers and the melted remains of his contact.

Ironically enough, the report from that very same mission was part of what had brought The Cabinet together for this emergency meeting. Normally all twenty leaders wouldn’t be in one place at the same time, except for their twice a year strategy meetings. But this was a special case.

While an initial failure to counter the new threat of Gryphonization would not have been cause for such a drastic step, the serious nature of the most recent PER attack was more than enough cause in and of itself, especially in conjunction with the former problem.

Mr. Utah stopped long enough to light one of his trademark cigarettes. He was alone in the stretch of corridor, and most other members of the cabinet envied his ability to acquire real nicotine infused cigarettes. No one begrudged the smell or the smoke, but Mr. Utah preferred not to share his preferred stress reliever.

He didn’t like to share anything he valued, which mainly consisted of power, influence, wealth, and cigarettes. He was only part of the HLF because Ponification and the ideals of Equestria did not mesh well with his manipulative self-centered hardball style of ‘self improvement.’

Some of The Cabinet members resented him, thinking that he was part of the HLF more for his own gains than because he believed in saving humanity. That wasn’t how Mr. Utah saw it. The way he figured it, his desire to live in a world where he was free to get what he wanted, however he wanted it, was one of the best survivalist qualities of humanity that stood to be lost in Conversion. So of course he was fighting to save humanity.

The tell-tale click of stiletto heels alerted him to the presence of another member of his section.
“Mrs. Juno.”

“Mr. Utah. Still indulging that habit of yours?”

“Still traipsing around in those ridiculous shoes?”

“They’re a fashion statement.”

Mr. Utah took a long pull on his cigarette, then released the cloud of noxious fumes in Mrs. Juno’s direction. The backlighting of the fluorescent fixtures made the substance appear as a thick chalky blob.

“And these are a stress reliever.”

To his disappointment, the silver haired woman didn’t cough, wince, or even give a trifling indication that she had noticed the act.

“If your position is taking a toll then I could always recommend someone else to fill your seat in the Cabinet.”

“My position is indispensable. Your company may contribute several hundred billion a year, but mine provides something infinitely more valuable.”

Mr. Utah knew she couldn’t argue with that. The head of command section himself, Mr. Churchill, had openly admitted that Mr. Utah’s company ties were the most important asset the HLF currently had on retainer. He allowed himself the tiniest beginnings of a grin as he finished his cigarette.

The low notes in his voice reverberated ominously off the concrete surfaces, “Well then. Let’s not keep the cabinet waiting shall we?”

The Cabinet Room’s defining features were twenty seats ringing an oval shaped steel table, a hanging circular fluorescent fixture of roughly the same dimensions as the table, and a wall sized holoscreen. Everything else was smooth, dull gray concrete, wreathed in shadows, save for the two entry and exit doors, which were large incredibly thick sliding plate-steel affairs that had been built to withstand the backwash from a nuclear strike directly on the facility.

The men and women seated around the table could be visually divided into two groups; those wearing business suits that cost more than six thousand dollars, and those wearing military uniforms identifying them as holding the rank of captain or above.

In reality there were three main groups of people at the table. Politicians, business owners, and soldiers. Each section of The Cabinet was made up of one of these groups, with the fourth and final command section having representatives from all of them.

Mr. Utah was seated with Mrs. Juno and the other three members of ‘Normandy Section,’ the business owners of The Cabinet. Every single one of them held a highly influential position of leadership in a Fortune 500 company, each with a quarterly income greater than the combined yearly salaries of every occupant in every outlying settlement of North America put together and doubled.

Normandy section represented the funding for the HLF. Mr. Utah’s company provided less money than the others, but made up for that in unconventional assets. Mrs. Juno’s, by contrast, brought nothing unique to the table, but contributed the most raw cash by an order of magnitude.

Mrs. Juno was the CFO of Avicor, which provided all the avionics for Earthgov military craft.

At the head of the table stood a tall, gray haired, grizzled looking man in a general’s uniform. His face was clean shaven except for a small military style moustache gracing his upper lip, which gave him a decidedly glowering air, even when his expression was neutral.

“Alight then. If everyone's here, then let's begin.”

The man’s voice was informal, at first blush, but underlying the casual southern tones was a hard edge of authority that demanded attention and respect. There was a reason his codename was Mr. Churchill.

The holoscreen blinked to life, displaying a schematic of the Liberty Bell tower.
Mr. Churchill spoke, his clipped tones conveying deep displeasure, “For those of you who might be behind on global news, the PER has overstepped their bounds again. This attack confirms and underscores something we’ve suspected for a long time; they have a new benefactor.”

Mr. Churchill stepped over to the screen and jabbed his finger at the tower, “Two years ago? They couldn’t have pulled off something of this magnitude if their lives depended on it. Aside from the lack of clear leadership, they just didn’t have the tech to pull a stunt like this. Come on people, we have *military* assets and two high level tech firms in our deck and *we* couldn’t replicate this if we wanted to.”

He stepped back to the head of the table and put his hands on the shiny surface, leaning forward so that the light from above accentuated the harsh angles of his face, “Does someone wanna tell me how we didn’t see this coming, and what we’re gonna do about this?”

Mrs. Stuka, a young Asian woman from ‘Aircav’ section, stood to answer. Aircav represented the military leaders contributing to the HLF, and Mrs. Stuka held a position in the Earthgov Special Forces as a high level analyst.

“Before I boarded the flight to come here, I received word that ConSec believes they have a mole in the New York Bureau. Earthgov military command puts no stock in the assertion, so it was only a small addendum to a report. But it would explain why neither of us had any advanced warning of the attack. We rely on the military for our intelligence, and ConSec is responsible for the PER. If they’ve been infiltrated, then in a sense so have we.”

Mr. Churchill nodded, “Put pressure on the higher ups at the Bureau to take the issue seriously, then let them handle it internally.” He turned to the man on his left, “Mr. Stalin, how are we planning to retaliate?”

His second in command, a young man with a Fu Manchu and short cropped black hair stood and tapped the holoscreen controls. “ConSec analysts were able to recover a DaTab at the site, which was used to transmit a real-time voice message during the attack. They haven’t been able to pull anything meaningful off it. We have.”

The screen changed to represent signal waveforms as Mr. Stalin continued, “We were able to scan the drive for residual bits of data, and from those we reconstructed enough of the OS to determine a transmission frequency to within four hertz. Using our access to satellite monitoring we quietly pulled down scans of the surrounding five hundred square mile radius for the time of the attack, and ran it through a comparative analysis AI.”

The screen changed again to display an appreciable chunk of the North American Eastern Seaboard. Overlaid on the map, triangulation lines and waveform data sprang into existence.
“The results led us to this.”

There was a collective murmur from the table as the map scrolled and changed.
“Needless to say, we’re preparing to make use of this data even as we speak. By the end of the week we will have the needed assets in position for our retaliatory strike.”

Mr. Churchill nodded, “Good work. Coordinate with Ms. Corsair for the action plan. I want a draft passing my desk by the end of tomorrow. Mr. Akagi, Mr. Essex, make sure Midway Section is prepared to bottleneck the media. We want the story on this to break on our terms.”

The two men, both major Earthgov politicians, like everyone in their section, nodded.
Mr. Akagi spoke for both of them, “We should be able to filter the data that gets out, prevent anything dangerous from leaking.”

Mr. Churchill turned to the members of Normandy section, “While we’re all assembled there is another piece of business we should deal with. I’m sure you’re all up to date on the Conversion Bureau's new Gryphonization program, and the dangers and opportunities it presents. Mr. Utah, would you care to fill us in on any new developments?”

Mr. Utah stood and straightened his suit, “Due to the interference of the PER we haven’t been able to acquire a sample of the new serum yet. In fact we have good reason to believe that the attack on Philadelphia was part of a follow up attempt they were making to get a sample themselves, after the maglev debacle. Fortunately, we have a respite. Mr. Argus was kind enough to contribute an asset to the project, so their new program is on hold, giving us time to create another inroad.”

Mr. Churchill glared, “How soon?”

“We’ve already begun.”

“Good. Get it done.”

Wrenn could tell Skye was annoyed with him just by her expression. The tone of her voice only confirmed it, “What did you do, stop for another coffee on the way back?”

He had, in fact, stopped in a break room to pour himself some coffee, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention that, “We had... unexpected guests. This is commander Hutchinson...” He gestured to Hutch, who had followed him down from the conference.

Wrenn had briefed him on the way, and he seemed eager to make to some progress on the mole issue. Wrenn had been afraid he wouldn’t take kindly to a civilian consultant, but the issue hadn’t even come up.

Hutch leaned forward, “Call me Hutch. Non-negotiable. Pleased to meet you.”

Wrenn continued unperturbed, “...He’s agreed to let you have access to a command level terminal. With one condition.”

Skye rolled her eyes, “I guess you guys have to cover all the bases huh?”

Wrenn nodded, “Let me introduce you to Kephic.” He nodded at the Gryphon, who had just arrived from the adjoining hallway.

Skye looked him up and down, then grinned, “A Gryphon? Nice. I had no idea any of you guys were on Earth.”

Kephic inclined his head, “Nice to meet you. Wrenn tells me you’re pretty skilled technically.”

“Meh. I guess you could say I’ve been branching out. You don’t mind working with... you know... a Pony?”

Kephic raised an eyebrow, “You don’t mind working with a Gryphon?”

“Not really. You guys are cool, I never believed all the scary bedtime stories.”

Wrenn chuckled, “I’ll leave you two to your work, Kephic will brief you on everything you’re allowed to know. Call us if you dig up anything?”

Kephic nodded, Skye threw an imitation salute with her hoof, “Will do chief.”

Wrenn had been leery of the idea, but amazingly he had managed to fit himself and three Gryphons into the back of a VTOL. Initially he had intended to board the second craft with Celestia, Hutch, and Commander Aston, but King Siidran had insisted he ride along in the first VTOL. That made Wrenn slightly nervous.
It also excited him a great deal more than it worried him.

While all of their guests could fly, it was diplomatic protocol for them to arrive by transport provided by Earthgov. The two VTOLs were being escorted to Harrisburg by a single Scythe, which hovered between them in VSToL mode, the cover plates on its back flung wide to reveal a massive fan. The fighter kept weaving to avoid pulling ahead.

Earthgov had decided to construct its North American headquarters in Harrisburg because the settlement had been all but nonexistent at the time. That gave them the leeway to build the complex exactly as they saw fit.

“Sildinar told me what you’ve accomplished in the last week. I’m impressed. Your courage deserves recognition.”
Siidran’s voice reverberated in the small compartment, Wrenn could feel the bass deep in his chest.

He tried not to look as embarrassed as he felt, “Its all part of the job sir. Wouldn’t have it any other way. I mean, a ‘thank you’ every now and then never goes unappreciated, but I’m not one for media attention. I’ve had my fill of that.”

The king nodded, “Yes. I read all about the incident. Losing one’s eyes is a trauma no one should have to cope with. Nevertheless, I hope you’re ready to endure media attention again.”

“Again?”

“My son probably told you that he personally recommended you to be the first human to convert to our species. After meeting you myself I’ve decided that I agree with his assessment.
I intend to do my best to keep the program on track, with you at the tip of the spear.”

Wrenn thought he understood the metaphor, but his expression must have betrayed his confusion. Varan smirked, clearly enjoying the moment, “ ‘Head of the line’ is the human phrase I think.”

Wrenn was shocked. He had known that Sildinar vouched for him, but he had never expected to receive special treatment like this. “I.. I’m not sure how I can ever thank you. But what about the fellow I’m preempting?”

Sildinar shook his head, “No one on the list knows of the existence of the program yet, or the fact that they’ve been selected. No one is losing their place in the program, just being delayed a few weeks. In a sense you’re not pre-empting anyone.”

Wrenn sat back hard in his seat, trying to process this sudden change of events.

“How are you going to swing this with Earthgov? It’s already going to be a stretch to convince them not to postpone the program, much less allow me into it. That's a whole ‘nother can of worms.”

Siidran nodded, looking pensive for a moment, before speaking, “I have some thoughts on the matter, but I’d rather not share them until I’ve spoken to the council. The situation is, as you have pointed out, quite delicate.”

For a few minutes there was silence, punctuated only by the occasional jolt as the craft encountered a pocket of turbulence.
Wrenn smiled, “So did Kephic ask to sit this one out, or did you make him stay back because of the incident with Korvan?”

Sildinar answered first, “Both. We all hate politics, but him most of all. Out of all of us, he is the youngest by several years, and he has not yet learned how to temporarily stifle his inner urges in order to remain diplomatic.”

Siidran snorted, “I hardly blame him. We have much in common with your species, Isaac Wrenn, and we have found much to admire, but your politics are enough to drive anyone to insanity.”

Wrenn laughed, “I think if you asked any human outside the government, and maybe even a few politicians themselves, you’d find we share that in common too.”

“Sigma 1, Sigma 2, this is Harrisburg control, you are cleared to start your approach on vector C-3 toward pads nine and ten. Escort Alpha, snap to heading 259 and make a circle pass, then await vectors to the initial.”

The pilots of all three craft acknowledged.

Wrenn sighed, “Last time I was here, I got a medal for making the biggest mistake of my life, and shooting my best friend to the head.”

Varan glanced up at him, “Not looking forward to being back?”

“Not particularly.”

The two VTOLs crabbed in sideways over the landing pads, and touched down with very little regard for passenger comfort. With military pilots it was all about speed and efficiency.

The Harrisburg Earthgov complex was a large cluster of swooping glass buildings with minimalist steel frames, interconnected by arching pedestrian tunnels and paved exterior footpaths. At several points ringing the complex were landing pads of various sizes, a runway, and a secure maglev terminal serviced by a spur of the nearby main-line from DC.

The space between the buildings, outlined by the footpaths, was filled with holographic plants and synthetic grass material in a vain attempt to make the site seem less dull and colorless.
It didn’t matter much to Wrenn. He found it amusing that all the lengths wealthy institutions went to in order to cultivate an aesthetically pleasing color palette were pointless to him. It was all the same shade of blue in the end.

He wondered, as the VTOL’s doors slid open, if the Gryphons appreciated the decoration.
Their eyes were incredible, just watching them for a few minutes would provide ample proof of that. Could they see through the illusion, which was already tenuous to human eyes?

Councilor Martins and several of her party members were already waiting at the edge of the landing pads. She had left the Bureau ahead of everyone else, mainly in order to gather the Council, since an emergency meeting could only be convened by a Council Member or a military General.

“The session convenes in ten minutes. Lieutenant Wrenn, Commanders, you will need to make your way to the public seating area. You aren’t technically being called before the council, but you will be allowed to sit in since you all have a vested interest.”

Wrenn reaffirmed his estimation of Martins. She was a ‘get it done’ person through and through.
He smiled inwardly, perhaps it was a good thing, Martins working more closely with the Gryphons. They seemed to share many of the same views on politics, but Martins had the ability to put aside her disdain and play the game. Wrenn shivered to think just what they might be able to accomplish together.

He turned to the Gryphons, “Thank you again, for what you’re doing for me. I’d wish you good luck, but if you’re anything like me you believe in making your own luck.”

Siidran and Varan nodded, Sildinar stepped forward and proffered a claw, “The sentiment still holds then, doesn’t it?”

Wrenn reached forward and the Gryphon grasped his hand and arm warmly, medieval style. The Gryphons claws might have made Wrenn nervous under other circumstances, but he trusted Sildinar too much for that to matter.

It took him a second to fully realize it, but these creatures from another world had become the closest friends he had. So much about them was alien to him, but the rest was deeply familiar.
They were warriors, and warriors who understood loyalty.

Beyond their fascinating and enviable biological characteristics lay a deeply rooted psychological mindset that Wrenn appreciated.

He wondered what it would be like to live in a culture of similarly minded people.
He desperately hoped he would get the chance to find out.

Nothing more needed to be said. Wrenn, Hutch, and Aston split off to follow two security guards to their appointed seats. Celestia, Siidran, Varan and Sildinar followed Martins and her fellow Councilors, presumably to the antechambers to prepare for the commencement of the session.

Comments

[RemnantDrive]

What astounds me is the amount of content you push out in only a few days! The quality isn't even diminished!

Son, I am proud.

[Airstream]

I like this story! It's exciting!

[Northwest Brony]

So wait, they're worried about moles but they also bring in a pony off the street to do terminal work. What's wrong with this picture?

[Midnightshadow]

671286 I'd guess they believe in the idea that ponies are innocent. I shouldn't buy it, but sshhhh, that might be a plot point