Gregory of Raven's Landing: Primaries
Gregory of Raven’s Landing: Primaries
275 AL
His terminal was ringing.
Gregory shot up on reflex, bashing his head against the machinery above him with a resounding clang and a spike of pain. He cursed under his breath, staggering backward out of the maze of machinery that constituted the piece of the HPOCAMP drive to where he’d left the terminal, sitting idly on the workbench by the wall.
Once he was sure he was in range, he waved a talon and grumbled, “Answer it!” before bringing his claw up to rub at the spot on his head that hurt worst.
Gideon’s hologram flickered into view over the terminal’s screen. “Gregory, where are you?”
He flushed a bit under his feathers. “I’m at the workshop.”
“The workshop?” Gideon seemed incredulous. The image flickered, the brown-feathered head scowling in displeasure. “Do you know what time it is? We’re supposed to be departing in a couple hours. Did you spend an entire night on your stupid antique?”
“It’s—what?” Gregory scrambled forward to grab the terminal. As he picked it up, Gideon’s image faded, returning to two dimensions on the flat surface. Gregory’s thumb talon swiped down from the top. “It’s seven… oh, flockmother.”
“Don’t you flockmother me, you birdbrain.” Gideon drew a claw down across his face. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You can sleep once we’re underway. Just… go make sure you’re packed and dressed, okay? The Papilion is already docked and ready for our departure after your speech.”
He was still muttering when he hung up. Gregory put the terminal down, trying to brush his pale-grey plumage back into something presentable and coming away with grease stains on his talons. Well, he had time for a shower, anyway.
The sun was rising as he emerged from his little workshop at colony’s edge. He paused and took a deep breath of the chill mountain air as a way to clear his head, then raised a talon up over his eyes to hide the worst of the glare as his eyes followed the sun. Yes, it was about seven. Curses!
He fumbled for his terminal again as he took off, flying back to his home near the center of the city. Thought I’d set an alarm. What happened? Did I really forget? Today of all days?
Without looking up, he ducked under a small flock of griffons headed the other way.
Calendar, calendar… there it is. I didn’t—Oh, there it is, that’s why. You birdbrain, you can’t set an hour reminder for this sort of thing!
Raven’s Landing spread out beneath and around him. Ponies preferred to build their colonies on plains, with plenty of grazing space. Something about being surrounded by nature, which was important to them even as they put down new metallic roots powered by arcanotech, taking new worlds and twisting them into reflections of Equestria they’d left behind. Not so with griffon colonies.
Oh, griffons built their homes out of metal, too, and there was no shortage of arcanotech, at least not without that particular, slightly roughshod griffon tweak here and there. But griffons built their colonies into mountains and near crevices, like the ancient kingdom back home. Sightlines, visibility of prey, a feeling of pride and domination—all things critical to the griffon worldview, and even on an alien world under an alien sun, griffons would exert control when, where, and how they could find it.
Not that they were obsessed with the old world and the old ways. No; they were out here because they wanted to get away from such things. It was just that sometimes old habits died hard, and griffons were nothing if not stubborn. Equestria had been a cultural melting pot for centuries, and griffons had been among the first races pulled into Princess Twilight’s eclectic mix of cultures. This wasn’t just a griffon colony, just mostly a griffon colony. Some of Gregory’s grandparents had been ponies. Well, legal grandparents, anyway, there had been adoption somewhere along the way.
There was room, now, for colonists to start having individual homes or hobby spaces like Gregory’s isolated little workshop. Some had already drilled out parts of the canyon wall nearby for nesting space. But Gregory had grown up in the middle of the city, at the top of the tallest building in the residential sector, and even if he lived alone now, he didn’t want to lose out on this view.
He landed on the embarkation pad on the eighth story, grabbing his terminal and swiping it up against the glass. There was a compliant ding, and he pushed inside as the door slid soundlessly out of his way. Most of the early morning traffic was already passed, but he did slide by one of his changeling neighbors, chittering animatedly to their unicorn companion. The ‘ling smiled a toothy sort of smile, and Gregory waved, though it was mostly a token greeting. The changeling might have said something, but he was already hustling past at speed.
He tumbled into his unit with a frustrated groan. “Shower, shower, shower, then clothes… Thank the spirits that I already packed, at least… Birdbrain, idiot, next time pay attention…”
His closet was halfway open and he was already reaching for the tailored suit when he hesitated, noticing again the grease tarnishing his plumage, and he gave himself a glance over. Eugh. No, don’t touch the suit, he told himself. Just get into the shower first.
Normally he sang in the shower. Part of his family history might have included a few songbird griffons, though until the last century or so no griffon “worthy of the name” would have ever put that in their genealogy. But not now. His brain was racing.
At least most of the actual preparation was already done. HPOCAMPs were over fifty years old at this point, and what had once been a trip of several months was now just a matter of a couple weeks plus change, accounting for dropout time and potential recharges. But space travel was still space travel, and so most of what Gregory would need was already aboard the jumpship that would take them from Raven’s Landing all the way back to Equus Prime. Him and his entourage, which basically just meant Gideon, and whatever griffons were coming along for security.
Last time there’d been a summit, nearly a decade ago, it had been Gideon getting on the ship. And he’d had an entourage of a dozen, and more than just guards. But time passed and, well... the political climate changed. There was still plenty of love for the homeworld, but the griffons of Raven’s Landing strove to live in the here and now, to look to the future. So the position had sort of fallen into Gregory’s lap, though he had only a passing interest in politics and probably only stood a chance because he was friends with Gideon beforehand. And Gideon came because... well, Gideon actually liked the hobnobbing.
He was out of the shower faster than he’d have liked, but as he brushed the condensation away from the mirror he had to admit he’d cleaned up pretty well. Stylize the plumage and get his rear half properly brushed and no one would be able to tell that, thirty minutes ago, he’d been tail-deep in an old stellar travel engine.
But, his brain continued, going over the script as rehearsed so many times by so many griffons, appearances were still important. Press mattered, and on this planet, the press was booming. Griffons might have gotten over their… what, their territorial aggression back when Equestria opened its gates and the Council of Friendship had started formal international relations, but if there was one thing they still valued, it was space. Most of this continent had griffons on it now, and the network architecture was expanding. There’d be griffons (and, he thought, let’s be fair, changelings and ponies and probably the occasional kirin) watching as he and his predecessor hopped up into the jumpship and zipped off back to Equus Prime, and there were appearances to consider.
So he had to fuss with the suit and the necktie (at least they’d bothered to give him something tan to play nice with his feathers and fur), and even though everything practical was already aboard the ship, he still had to have a suitcase with his terminal to look “sufficiently professional.”
But, he admitted even as he groused, it wasn’t every day that you got to go back to the homeworld to hang with the princess. Well, hang with might have been the wrong phrase. But it was the spirit of the thing. A meeting from colonies. All the colonies, all thirteen of them. And he got to represent Raven’s Landing.
For a moment he stopped again, wondering how he’d ended up in this position. He was a mechanic by trade. He didn’t even like politics. But, then, he supposed, most griffons didn’t, and to the griffs on the committee, if somegriff had the patience to dig around in a 50-year-old ancient HPOCAMP for fun, then surely that griff had the patience to deal with the pony princess. Even if he was a little young to be playing politics. Even if he had no formal training.
Besides, he had Gideon help write his speeches.
His talons fumbled as he tried to straighten his tie. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this.
But his terminal was already ringing again. He picked it up and the Incoming Call message shifted smoothly into Gideon’s face. The tawny had already gotten into his own suit, brushing his plumage out into something professional. He was at least a decade Gregory’s senior, but his face retained at least some of the youthful charm that had won him the same seat Gregory now occupied the last time there’d been a colonial summit.
But privately he’d told Gregory that he never wanted to go again. Well, too bad for him—but at least this he only had to write the speeches.
“You coming yet?”
“I’m just about done,” Gregory said, tilting the terminal to show himself off.
“Hey, looking pretty good there, birdbrain. Alright, security birds are on their way out there to escort you to the port. There’s already a crowd and the cameras are rolling, so let’s get this show on the road and make it a good one. You got my message?”
Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got the speech.” He hadn’t practiced it, but Gideon didn’t need to know that detail. He’d memorized it, at least. “I’m gonna head out. See you in a few.”
He closed the call and slid the terminal into his saddlebag, then pulled it up and got it settled. It made his suit chafe against the joining point of his body and he groaned. Just gotta keep up appearances, gotta give a speech about the hope and future of Raven’s Landing, and get aboard a jumpship without making too much of an ass of himself.
Gideon had done this once. How hard could it be, really?
Once upon a time, the griffons had a king.
He united us under a singular banner. All the flocks, all the warring tribes, united under a single cause, serving a single leader who brought great prosperity to the highlands.
Of course, we all know how that turned out. Grover couldn’t keep the power or wealth he’d amassed. And the glory of the griffon kingdom faded. Not lost in some great war with the yaks as our ancestors might have longed for—but slowly ground away over time, as we strove to hang on tight to the wealth and power and prestige slipping out of our grasp.
And that turned us miserable, and being miserable turned us into misers, and for years we were miserable, angry, and poor as dirt in the highlands. And ponies saved us.
I see that look in your eye. I hear that grumble in the crowd. Even centuries later, knowing that griffons owe their success to ponies ruffles feathers who still cling so resolutely to griffon pride. But we are here, today, standing where we are, on this planet over ten lightyears away from the world our forebears were born on—we are here today because of ponies, and not merely because of our own strength.
Oh, yes, we’ve hewn the stone of Raven’s Landing by our own strength and with our own talons! But even then, we are not merely griffons. Among you are changelings and kirin. Among you are ponies. Raven’s Landing is an extension of Griffonstone, and Griffonstone owes its newfound prosperity to the goodwill of ponies and the providence of their Harmony.
What we have built, we have built for ourselves. Already, settlements are popping up all over the southern continent as we spread to take hold of this new world, not even fifty years settled. A great hunt! A great conquering! And as we have been shown, as griffons have been taught, a bounty is best shared and not hoarded, for the whole flock grows in might and mind!
So I stand before you today, two hundred and seventy-five years after the liberation of the Mare in the Moon, to say that we of Raven’s Landing will share of our bounty with Equus and with all of our brother and sister colonies amidst all the stars! Our strength, our cleverness, our shrewdness, all of these are made more when we extend our talons in friendship rather than hoard them for ourselves!
So Raven’s Landing shall answer the call of our fatherland! And when I step on the surface of Equus, I will represent all of you in establishing what Grover could not—a lasting legacy for griffon and pony alike!
He sank backward into the seat with a sigh as the seatbelts snapped around him with mechanical precision. One talon came up to rub between his eyes as the ship around him began to shudder and lift off.
“All set, lads?”
The Papilion’s pilot was a pony, a chipper unicorn stallion with a brogue that Gregory couldn’t place. He wasn’t a native of Raven’s Landing; by that accent, he was probably Equus-native.
“Asking to be polite, are you?” Gregory opened one eye to watch the stallion, whose attention was firmly on the controls, hooves and horn manipulating the ship with a precision that boggled Gregory’s sleepless mind.
He and Gideon, alongside the four taciturn guardsgriffons there mostly for effect, had been greeted by this stallion, wearing a huge smile and bowing gently, just inside the airlock, and they’d made a beeline from there straight to the bridge, passing through utilitarian hallways and past several redundant airlocks. Until he’d settled down in his seat, he’d been concerned the princesses had sent him an uncomfortable junker. That turned out to have been a needless worry; as a political figure, and as an invitee of the Princess, there was something to be said for the luxurious seats and excellent view.
“Once we’re out of atmo,” the pilot continued, yellow coat and green corona reminding Gregory vaguely of lemon, “you’ll be good to head back to your personal quarters. ETA is about ten days, so there’s plenty of time to get comfy.”
The ship was already pointed upward and Gregory could feel the way the artificial gravity and inertial dampeners kicked in to keep the local sense of “down” pointed toward the floor. Reflexively, for a moment, his wings spread, but he grumbled a bit and shook his head, folding them back up.
Gideon was still wheezing behind him. Even over the sound of the engine and the omnipresent light twinkling sound of the unicorn pilot’s corona, Gregory could hear the breathless, gasping laughter of his advisor.
“Shut up,” Gregory muttered. “It’s not like anygriff will remember, anyway.”
“Oh, they’ll remember.” Gideon chuckled a wheezy sort of chuckle. “They’ll use it to take the mickey out of you whenever they get the chance. You know us griffons—always willing to point talons when we can make fun of someone else.”
It wasn’t that Gregory didn’t believe. Griffons were a stubborn lot, but over the course of generations even they could learn that the philosophy espoused by Princess Twilight, the Harmony that almost tangibly radiated outward from Canterlot, was in their best interest. But that didn’t make the message seem any less cheesy.
Gregory preferred to work with his own talons. Physical things were things he could understand. Even magic had rules and could be measured and tamed by those without horns. The HPOCAMP in his warehouse was testament to that. But great speeches weren’t made of material things; they were made of the spirit, and Gregory had never been sure about spirit.
Gregory shook his head. “Whatever. You—pilot. I never caught your name.”
“That’ll be Solar Streak, your excellency.” A pause, as the stallion manipulated a few buttons. “There we are. The spinning sensation will pass once we’re in zero gravity and the artificial gravity can stop fighting the planet for which way should be down, if you follow.” Apparently content to let the arcanotech pilot itself for a while, Solar Streak swiveled around, still secured to his own chair. “Ever traveled by HPOCAMP before?”
“No,” said Gregory. “But I know the theory.”
“He’s got a fossil of a drive locked up in his workshop planetside,” Gideon added.
Solar’s eyes widened.
“I like to tinker,” Gregory admitted, waving a claw dismissively. “I was an engineer before the colonial council strong-armed me into being the politician du jour. Griffons will do everything in their power to make the actual running of things someone else’s problem. Not big centralized government types, us, you know. We’re lucky we even have a governor.”
“If you say so,” said Solar thoughtfully. “Well, it’s pretty painless, and the drive’s charge should get us there without having to recharge in deep space. Once we’re in arcane space, there’ll be some filters put over the viewports to reduce eye strain, and we’ll be dropping out for about an hour once a day during the trip. But the dampeners should soak any excess momentum, so you’ll barely feel a thing.”
“Is it just you?” Gregory asked. “I thought perhaps we’d have more of a crew.”
“Oh, there’s a few of us. The ship’s not large, so I’m sure you’ll meet the rest of the crew before long. But I’m the only trained pilot in the group, so when there needs to be somecreature at the helm, it’ll be me.”
The navigation panel chirped. Solar’s seat spun back around and he nodded. “There we go. A few moments for us to get into optimal positioning, and then we can start the first translation. Once we’re in, we can release the seatbelts and be about our business. I’ll show you around if you like. Now, what’s this about you having a fossil of a drive? Torque will want to hear about this.”
Gregory had always thought that calling it a jumpship made it sound small. From the point of view of technological progress, he supposed it was; the colony ships that had housed the oldest HPOCAMPs had been most of the size of Canterlot, and while technology had improved by leaps and bounds, the ship carrying them back to the homeworld was still the size of an apartment building.
Most of the size of the ship was to simply account for the size of the arcanotech drive. The whole ship spanned four decks, and most of the back half was a singular chamber housing the thing currently propelling them at a ludicrous speed outside of normal spacetime.
The rest of the first day was spent catching up on sleep, but after that and a meal—vegetarian, courtesy of their Equestrian hosts, but griffons could subsist on greenery if they had to—Gregory spent most of the second in the back engineering bay, getting to know Torque.
Torque was an earth pony, and Gregory immediately felt a sense of camaraderie, not only because Torque was finally someone he could geek out about arcanotech with, but because he only had one name, an increasing oddity among ponykind. It was a strange thing to get hung up on, and he never brought it up with the steel-colored stallion, but it was on his brain nonetheless.
The drive was suspended, bound loosely by cables but floating essentially on its own, locked in place by a combination of electromagnetism and a spell of particular complexity that Gregory would never claim to understand. It could be said to be a sphere, studded with dozens of tiny metallic spirals that brought to mind unicorn horns. And like unicorn horns, each stud glowed with a weirdly shimmering corona, dancing between an array of colors that only occasionally shifted to Solar’s lime green or the ruddy orange of Torque’s toolbox cutie mark. The whole room vibrated gently with the hum of a large-scale spell, waves of magic pushing and pulling from the HPOCAMP.
“They’re really making strides,” the engineer said admirably, leaning over the railing on the second floor of the engineering bay. Gregory had been standing and watching the drive at work, and hadn’t even noticed Torque come over. “Used to be, not too long ago, it all had to be one unicorn’s magic, you know. Of course, no unicorn can charge any jump worth making on their lonesome, so it was all Princess Twilight, sometimes Luna or Celestia. Now, though, now…”
He pointed a hoof. “That’s all of us. Well, us as own the ship, you know. Solar, me, Primrose, Odonata, Driver, and Wedge. Plus all the other crew, you know, can’t fly a ship this size with only a hooffull… All our magic, blended together. Easier on the eyes than you’d think, huh?”
“I suppose,” Gregory said, tapping a talon against the railing. “I’ve got… Well, I say I’ve got a whole drive in a warehouse, but really it’s part of the guts of something much bigger. A whole drive is too much for one griffon, even as a passion project.”
“Oh?” The earth pony’s ears perked up curiously. “Did hear Solar mention something about that.”
“Well, the Raven’s not going anywhere any more, especially since ships of that particular class are becoming obsolete.” Gregory watched the crew’s collective corona shimmer for a moment. “So I got permission to take a part of it out, tinker with it. Fascinating stuff. Obviously it wouldn’t work without the shell, and we’re mostly a griffon colony, so finding a creature that can cast to get things charged can be… arduous. But I like to tinker all the same.”
Torque gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Tinkering’s the best part, eh? Well, that and listening to the thing power on. Makes me laugh every time.”
Gregory had never been able to hear the alleged shoo be doo of a HPOCAMP charging, so he chose not to pursue that particular topic.
“Is it weird?” he asked finally.
The earnest smile on Torque’s face slipped somewhat. “Is what weird?”
“Our star system’s heliocentric.” Gregory pushed himself back off the rail, giving himself room to stretch his wings. The ambient magic in the room tickled his primaries, and he felt himself involuntarily fluff up. Blushing and brushing his coat back down, he added, “You know. Unlike the mostly pony-settled worlds. You guys have alicorns that take the local stars and stuff. We’re just… floating on a rock in space. A moving rock, orbiting a sun that’s standing still. Relatively speaking. Isn’t that weird to you?”
The earth pony hummed, hooves still draped over the railing. “Well, I’m no scientist, me, but… The way creatures talk, it sounds like we’re the weird ones. I’m no astronomer or physicist—and, forgive me for saying so, your excellency, but you don’t strike me as the type either, but…”
Gregory waved a talon dismissively when the earth pony hesitated.
“Seems like it only happens to pony colonies. Like… So far as anyone’s able to tell, Equus Prime was one of a kind before we started branching out and all. And of course, only about half of the colonies are primarily ponies. But among those six, there’s always two alicorns, one for the star and one for… other stuff. And even if we wanted to, ponies couldn’t leave it be, because the whole system changes, you know? The planet stops spinning and everything adjusts…”
Gregory nods. “I’ve heard. Dreamchaser and Stargazer, Solem and Selene, Zenith and Nadir…”
Torque tapped at the floor. “Nopony’s quite figured out how the gravity works, I think. Most ponies I know just sort of accept it. Natural magic, that sort of thing. Like what we use to make gravity work in spaceships, only, you know… planetside. And yet…”
“And yet it doesn’t happen in the other seven colonies. Raven’s Landing, Mnemone’s Hive, Second Stream—all places with population majorities other than ponies,“ Gregory finished. “I don’t like accepting things just so, but… it’ll take someone with a horn to figure out why.”
“D’you reckon they’ll talk about it at the summit, your excellency?”
Gregory hesitated.
It seemed beyond foolish to admit it now, but it hadn’t really dawned on him until that moment. What was the summit going to be about? He’d been selected to attend the joint summit on behalf of the colony, and, griffons being griffons, they had responded on his behalf with an affirmative, ticking the box without actually reading the contract. Not that he was any better; he’d just taken the election as fact. He’d volunteered on a lark, but—well, he’d made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.
What were they going to talk about? That seemed like crucial information. And yet. He racked his brain, trying to remember.
He excused himself from engineering and worked his way to the quarters, fumbling for his terminal. The doubt from his room the morning of the departure crept back in. And when he dove onto his bunk and pulled up the messaging, he paled underneath his feathers.
He’d assumed, well, it would be about… what summits were normally about. Talking about stuff. Arguing about that stuff. Signing accords and agreeing to do better, and honestly Gregory was prepared to go along with the flow and maybe offer a few ideas himself—hopefully more grounded things than the idealistic ponies might bring to meetings like this.
But what information was there was… distressingly barebones. Political pleasantries, vague statements. He’d glossed over it before because he’d assumed that was just how things were, but what if it wasn’t? He supposed he could ask Gideon, but...
That’s just politics, isn’t it?
But the doubt wouldn’t go away.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for this.
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I havent read yet so...so feel free to ignore this. But will there be a conflict that has consquences? I suppose I am rather burned by narratives that follow the logic of friendship? Wins everything? Because I am really excited by the potential conflict with ponys, if not in actual conflict? Other means of drama? I will leave a like either way.
This throughly creative even if it may not be for. Either way. Cheers!
Ps. When tease such a conflict that just sounds so fun?
10897963
Thank you for the like and for your upfront honesty, and I feel I should respond in kind.
Without going into too much detail, I think the story as planned may not be what you’re looking for. I’m writing from the opposite perspective, see--I’m tired of stories where ponykind and humanity end up in incompatible turmoil with one another (this seems especially true in stories that push ponies toward science fiction or science fantasy). This is an anthology centered broadly around the idea of overcoming one’s own flaws in the name of broader cooperation.
If you’re asking whether there will be war, the answer is a definitive no. But humankind and ponykind do have vastly different philosophies, so if you’re asking whether there will be ideological conflict when they encounter each other--that’s almost a given (though, to be fair, we have not yet encountered humanity in this story). There will definitely be some strife--but by the end, ponykind and humanity will be, if not friends, at least respectful toward one another (cf. Supplement A). If this is what you mean by “the logic of friendship,” then this may not be the sort of story you’re after.
The focus of the stories in this anthology is intended, for the most part, to be personal rather than political, though some stories--like Gregory’s--will lean more toward the latter than the former. Conflicts on a grand scale, society-wide, are beyond the intended scope of this work.
10897984
Thanks the response. I figure its better to be honest and give props to creativity. Even its not my cup of tea. I ironicallu have read very few pony vs human storys. In turn I also have looked for a story that goes deeper then just as you say "logic of friendship" that and consquencrs. Even simple accident that befall characters. But thats why I write...
So far it's quite an interesting concept. Also pony "hardish" sci-fi is always a win : )
10903313
As hard as it can be, given that magic is an established thing in the setting. I’m no scientist and I don’t intend to hold myself to 100% realistic standards, but I want it to feel plausible, especially as far as the ponies are concerned.
I’m glad you’re enjoying it; I’m trying to get back into a more regular writing schedule, so hopefully will get this updated in the relatively near future.
10903321
I totally didn't mean it like something offensive, it actually feels "old-school sci-fi hard" but I'm not sure about magic still. Could be explained to my satisfaction later for all I know : )
10903341
Oops--didn’t mean to imply like I took offense! Sorry, no; I was trying to agree with you and it got lost in the message.
Glad you are enjoying, and will do my best to make the setting make as much sense as I can.
10897984
Still, don't humans have a right to be upset about somepony messing with their Solar System?
10906368
This is certainly a possibility that I intend to discuss, don’t worry.
That bait and switch! I thought Gregory was human!
This story has a good concept, but spending 5 pages on the prologue and then abandoning the story really irritated me, I didn't even get a chance to read the main story.