29 - A precautionary measure (1)
Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist
=== Chapter 29 (remastered): A precautionary measure (1) ===
Gravity watched with a twinge of uncertainty as Vanca, Korn and Largorth were untied and gently helped to their paws by Bastion, then tried to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. It's not like having you stopped Security from smashing down my door, is it? Unlike the other two, Korn actually seemed slightly reluctant, and for a moment Gravity wondered what use she could put a 'tame' Master to, then snorted quietly. How could he be anything but trouble?
"Don't forget that I will be watching. Any serious deviation..." she said, trotting over to stand next to the little group. That was her real worry; there had only been four Masters recovered. The fifth suit had been empty, its occupant escaping into the complex and away from the fighting. Bastion had sworn that he would not follow an order to come back, but it didn't hurt to make sure he understood she was serious. It was easy to make such a promise, but the urge to obey was very strong, even in the face of extreme danger.
He nodded vigorously, ears folding back. "You won't see us again, I promise."
"Any last ditch heroics will end very badly for everypony. Just to be clear; I won't try to hurt you, the first thing I will do is kill the Masters, starting with that one." Gravity raised a hoof and tapped Largorth on the chest, causing him to take a nervous step backwards. "Actually, no I won't. I will pull off his arms." She glowered at the Officer, half wishing she could do that right now, then her desire for revenge faded as what she'd just promised to do sank in. Bastion winced and she felt a little ill, but the threat seemed to have hit home. You might be ordered to ignore a dead Master, but one bleeding to death and screaming his lungs out should be a powerful deterrent, she thought.
"I will go into fugue before following an order to return, believe me," Bastion said fervently, looking more than a little ill himself.
Gravity nodded, and watched as the little group hurried down the corridor to join the remaining gryphons and ponies. All of their equipment, with the exception of a small amount of medical gear, was piled up just inside the beam chamber, after Bastion had assured her that none of the explosives were armed. She'd used her magic to check, but at this point she trusted him.
The mare ignored the military hardware and dropped to the floor next to Fusion, unmindful of the still damp pool of blood that surrounded her and Lilac. Keeping part of her awareness focussed on the departing Security forces, she cast the modified sharing spell, frowning when there was no response from her sister. In the quiet she could clearly hear the rapid panting of Fusion's breathing, so different from Lilac's slow and steady drugged cadence. Carefully, as if the slightest pressure could break her partially healed ribs, Gravity laid her head against her sister's chest and listened to her heart.
It was like Fusion was at a full gallop, heart pounding fit to burst, so loud that Gravity could hear it even after she lifted her head back. Oh, my sister, I took too long in getting back to you, she thought, trying the sharing again and getting the same result. The mare bit her lip; it was obvious that Fusion was deep in the middle of some kind of panic attack brought on by her injuries and sensory deprivation. Come on, you need to cooperate for this to work.
She tried again, to just as little effect, then started to play with the spell's pattern, looking for a way to attract Fusion's attention. Despite only learning the spell from that half remembered nightmare session back in the orchard, Gravity began to realise that she seemed to have a near instinctive understanding for this kind of subtle magic. She carefully modified the pattern, watching for any feedback from her sister's mind. Something seemed to be happening, then suddenly the sharing environment she'd created -- a quiet, sun-dappled glade with a small pool that was a popular play area when they were both foals and had the time -- blossomed around her.
Gravity fine tuned the memory to make it as restful as possible, clearing the water of mud and removing clumps of bramble. She looked around, but her sister was not immediately visible. Despite the fact that this place was hers, and that every aspect was under her direct control, she had no need to use this power to find Fusion. The blue mare trotted over to a large clump of overhanging bushes, dropped down to a crouch and wriggled through the dense branches and into the hollow space within.
In the dim green space was Fusion, huddled against the twisted mass of roots that supported the old bush. Gravity paused briefly at the sight; the full-grown bulk of her sister was wedged into a space only really suitable for a youngster or two. It should have been funny, but instead just made her want to cry. This bush had been a favourite hiding place for generations of foals -- Fusion had been one of those late developers, suffering uncontrollable surges of magic well past the normal age. There had been a certain amount of teasing from her peer group and a few overheard whispers from adults, enough to worry a filly with an active imagination.
Gravity stared at her sister, distant and mostly forgotten memories resurfacing. "The constant--" Let's call it what it was, she thought. "--brainwashing that you had to be the best for the Masters didn't help, either," she murmured. Like any foal, she'd felt a little of that stress herself, the fear of failing those she'd been put here to serve. Fusion had come through it, like most had, and gone on to great things. The mare pushed the thought aside, laying down in the little space and unfurling a wing over the white and pink bundle.
The shape contracted slightly at her touch, and there was a whimper from somewhere under one white wing. "It's okay," she whispered, poking her muzzle past tangled flight feathers and into the darkness around Fusion's head. "You're safe now, they've all gone." Gravity ran her wing along Fusion's spine in long, slow strokes.
The touch seemed to calm the other mare, penetrating the panic and relaxing her rigid muscles. There was movement in the darkness and Gravity pulled her head back to allow her sister to sit upright. Tremors ran through this mental representation of her body, an expression of internal distress that the drugs wouldn't let her real body show.
Fusion was wide-eyed and breathing fast, gaze darting left and right before settling on Gravity. She let out a shuddering sigh, tears starting to make tracks through the fur along her muzzle. "Why did you leave me alone with them, I thought--" she said in a small voice.
"The Security ponies rallied," Gravity said, leaning forward to embrace her sister in a fierce hug, "they managed to get a nasty spell through my defences. I had to put a stop to it." Another few seconds and they'd have had me, she thought, but kept that to herself.
"After you went out and I lost the connection to you, all I had was sound. The explosions and gunfire, and, and the pain in your voice..." The white mare's own words were muffled from where she had buried her head under Gravity's wing. "...then I heard them talking about me, talking about doing something to hurt you through me, I..." She paused, voice changing to a thready whisper. "I'm so tired of this, Gravity. I just want it all to end."
Unable to move, unable to see, just hearing and an imagination primed with the horrors she already witnessed, Gravity thought, filling in the silence. "I'm here now, and I'll never leave you like that again," she said, putting as much conviction into her words as she could. "Listen, I've bought us some time. It will take the Security team a while to get themselves out of the Institute, but we shouldn't waste it."
Fusion lifted her head, wiping her eyes along the leading edges of her wings. "Yes, I'm sorry." She gave Gravity a weak smile. "I'll be alright. Show me the last thing you remember and we'll start from there."
Gravity called up the teleportation spell's pattern and let the shape twist and writhe in the green space between the leaves. "So, tell me again about how you integrate the destination co-ordinates..."
===
Filter mask over his muzzle and pistol in one paw, Captain Rthar trotted carefully through the ruins of the Institute, heading back towards the surface entrance. Aside from mask and gun, he was as naked as the day he'd been born; you didn't wear anything in an armour suit, and there was no way he was going to try and restart the thing. He risked a quick flash with the torch integrated into the pistol, memorizing the room layout before starting off again. Around a corner, something glowed with a purple light.
--the corridor, visible through a series of ragged holes, lit up a deep violet, like he was next to the world’s biggest excimer laser. The Captain threw up an arm to protect his eyes, but enough of the glare leaked through to leave dazzling afterimages, one of which was the distorted bipedal shape of another armour suit. The shape, burning with a nimbus of violet fire, flickered past the opening so fast that he almost thought it was an optical illusion--
Rthar shivered at the memory, swallowing hard. Getting out of the clinging embrace of his suit was a little like being a caterpillar emerging from a chrysalis; seeing that white-eyed, violet glowing apparition of a pony stalking up the corridor towards the remainder of his troops had been a wonderful impetus. He turned the corner, the source of the light became apparent. Just some damaged terminal, he thought, trying to see past the glare of the screen. Something was moving in the deep shadows, something quadrupedal--
His gun came up, finger already tightening on the trigger. This one will go down fighting, he thought, then yelped in surprise as a green glow froze his paw and gently removed the pistol from his grasp. The light brightened, illuminating a sorry looking group of gryphons and ponies. In the middle of the group were three People, two of whom Rthar recognised. Vanca had her arm in an improvised sling and seemed to be trying to get as far away from the servitors as she could. Korn appeared to have his paws tied behind his back and was being held by a third individual who Rthar didn't know. Must be this 'Officer Largorth', he thought, remembering the final intel updates before everything went wrong.
"Sorry, Master, but we must not attract the rogue's attention. She said she would be watching, and I will not allow you to put the lives of the other People at risk," Bastion said, his voice trembling slightly.
"The pony will not--" Rthar started, then saw the look of misery on Bastion's face. What was it to do? he thought, then started speaking again, his tone gentle. "The pony is correct, there is nothing that these ones can do. Under what terms were the hostages released?"
The green stallion's head came up, relief obvious. "We are to connect with the Security group at the upper transit hub. No deviation is allowed, otherwise she will come after us." With a pleading look, Bastion returned the pistol to Rthar.
Rthar nodded slowly. "Then these ones should start moving." While they walked, he searched the gryphons, trying to determine who was left alive. "Sersjant Ellisif Inga, what is the squad's status?" he said, staring at the top of the gryphoness' grey feathered head. Her eyes met his for the first time since he'd rejoined what was left of the assault team, and for a moment she just looked at him blankly, her gaze hollow and distant.
"Six confirmed dead. Two non ambulatory and in critical condition," she said, training taking over and eyes regaining their focus. "The remaining three all have some level of injury, but these are not life threatening. I am the only one who escaped without harm." Her voice grew bitter, falling to a whisper that was probably not intended to be heard. "My weapon was damaged during the initial attack and I couldn't return fire."
Rthar nodded. Over her shoulder he could see a pair of gryphons floating in a yellow telekinetic field, little worms of light moving over each one in turn as the pony carrying them divided his medical attention between them. Behind that was a collection of black bags and a floating lump of rock that appeared to contain an armour suit. "All the equipment was left behind?"
"Yessir, that was part of the conditions," Ellisif said, glancing quickly back at Bastion and the rest of the ponies. All were busy carrying or assisting the dead and wounded, but the gryphoness extended her stride, gesturing for Rthar to follow her. One they were a few lengths distant, she reached up to her throat and felt under the feathers, unsnapping the comms band that took the place of a command collar for the more experienced NCOs. "Managed to hide it. Non thaumic," she murmured.
Rthar nodded in thanks and took it from her claws, pressing the throat mic into his neck while jamming the ill-fitting earbud into place. Neither device was designed for use by the People, but at a pinch...
Taking a deep breath, he fumbled with the controls and opened a link to the drone network. Those little robots, each one a cross between a sensor platform and a communications node, had not proven to be the reliable systems he was used to. Hardened against normal levels of magic, the network had comprehensively crashed when the servitor had attacked, that first pulse of magic way outside their design specifications and causing spontaneous reboots, effectively cutting their link to the outside world.
"Pilot Namak, do you copy?" the Captain subvocalised. Please, tell this one that the dropship is still there.
"Captain? What in the Maker's name is going on down there? This one has only just started to get telemetry again; when the team went offline, this one assumed--"
"Nearly was. Get this one an uplink to Security control."
"This is Sector Chief Orgon. This one has been monitoring events. What is the Captain's analysis?"
Rthar recognised the Sector Chief's voice and felt a slight wash of relief. He'd been half afraid he'd have to fight through five layers of bureaucracy. "The mission is fucked, and if the servitor decides we're deviating from its conditions, what's left of the team is fucked as well."
There was a moment's frigid silence, and the Captain felt an extra twinge of fear, despite his situation. Orgon had quite a reputation and he'd likely find some way to display his irritation at the unprofessional nature of the report. His lips peeled back in a grim smile. The Sector Chief can get fucked too, he thought, but suppressed the urge to say that out loud. "The servitor has killed or incapacitated all of the gryphons and all of the People. Arcane suppression by a standard herd of Security ponies was not effective. The rogue seems to hold a particular grudge against the People; despite what the psychologist said about the long term effects of the conditioning, it sought them out for special attention. The hostages are alive and mostly unharmed" he said in clipped tones." Did so little telemetry get through? he thought, suppressing the urge to scream invective at Orgon.
"Recommendations?" The Sector Chief's voice was as calm as it always was.
"The mission is a total failure. This one will not be able to stop the servitor if it decides to leave." The Captain rolled his eyes at that. This one should be renamed Captain Obvious, he thought in disgust, if control hasn't already formulated a response...
"The Captain is thanked for confirming this one's thoughts. What is his situation?"
The tone was polite and concerned, but the context was needle sharp. In other words, why is Rthar still alive when the rest of his squad is dead? the Captain thought, grinding his teeth. His work was very much action orientated; it was no surprise that control favoured aggressive field commanders. "This one has just reconnected with his remaining forces, and is proceeding to the upper level transit hub," he said, trying to keep his voice flat and emotionless.
"The Captain will do nothing to draw the servitor's attention. This one will want to debrief the Captain thoroughly."
Rthar's ears flattened and he winced; not for the first time he was glad that this connection was audio only. The Sector Chief was infamous for his skill at picking up body language cues. "Understood. What is Security's response, and does the Sector Chief have any specific orders?"
"Given the nature of the threat, that will not be relayed. No other orders, other than to evacuate via the tunnels and to survive by whatever means necessary."
"Understood, Sector Chief," Rthar said, dropping the line before his mouth overran his brain and he said something he'd regret. What are they going to do? The Captain's imagination ran wild, picturing the World Court being informed and then using the Hammer to pulverise the site. He was deep underground, but a max power shot from that oversized mass driver would turn this facility and everything for a kilolength into high velocity ejecta.
“No,” he muttered, “that’s not going to happen.” He squeezed past a partially collapsed ceiling beam, then paused, trying to orientate himself against the half remembered map. One of the servitors helpfully generated a ball of dim light, illuminating the darkness beyond the constriction and pointing out the correct route. Although it probably should; it’s obvious that the white servitor managed to strip the conditioning from its sister. If it gets to one of the corrals... The Captain shivered; imagining not one, but a hundred of the creatures, all super powered and out to shed the yoke of servitude from their backs. He tightened his grip on the pistol, trying to slow his breathing
It must not escape! he thought, reopening the connection to the dropship. “Namak, this is Rthar. What were the Pilot's orders?”
“Captain, this one is to fly overwatch around the entrance pit and kill anything he sees.” Behind the Pilot’s words was the building whine of the carrier’s lifting fans, loud even with the soundproofing on the command deck. “Control wouldn’t tell this one what they planned, but they did say not to use the crystal drive.”
Rthar grunted; no doubt they would be suitably reinforcing the units guarding the upper and lower subterranean exits as well, but that comment about not using the crystal levitation drive was interesting. “What does the Pilot think?”
“This one will tell the Captain in a second... ha, thought so. Radar can see two air groups closing on this location, looks like Arclight units with escorts. There’s another one further back, probably a heavy assault company.”
“Time?”
“About four kiloseconds for the Arclight, maybe one for the assault units.”
“Should have sent the suppressors in to start with,” the Captain muttered, “if this one finds out that control knew about this before we went in... He hadn’t intended to say that out loud, but the throat mic was very sensitive and Namak heard him anyway.
“That bad?”
“If the Pilot is buying, this one will tell him all about it.”
===
Gravity picked up the discarded piece of armour and turned it over in the air. It was a glove for the clawed front leg of a gryphon, smooth scales of a glossy black material that Fusion said was a fullerene-ceramic composite, blending into the rubberised walking surface and a set of wickedly sharp talon sheathes. Unlike those of a biological gryphon, these were not just pointed for grasping, but had sharpened undersides as well. The edges glittered in her violet horn light, the hard alloy still too sharp to touch.
She flexed the glove, folding the talons and watching how the cutting surfaces meshed together. The mare shivered and placed the thing, somehow elegant with its brutal efficiency and directness, on the floor a few lengths away. Do not let them get their claws on you again! she thought, eyeing the glove where it sat, looking like some monstrous insect.
Ready? Fusion said from somewhere in the back of her head. Don't forget the force field.
Gravity smiled with the memory of Fusion's first experiments with this spell. "Ceramic fragments will hurt a bit more than apple pulp, I think." Her force field appeared with a crystalline chime, covering the three ponies with a dome of violet light. Right, let's do this, she thought, holding the simple shapes required for the field steady, while calling up the far more complex pattern for this test. The shapes rotated in her mind, twisting and shifting as she altered them. Satisfied, she pushed.
The glove vanished with a 'pop' and a flash of violet light, reappearing a few lengths further away. Gravity stared at it in delight; now she'd had a chance to reverse engineer the spell and reassemble it according to how she'd learnt magic, it was actually quite easy to do these short range jumps. She did it again and again, flicking the glove around the room, before dropping it between her hooves, just inside the force field. "Only one more test to do," she said, cancelling her field and walking a few steps away from her sister.
You should try it on me first, Fusion said quickly, or Lilac. You'll have to carry us eventually.
There was a pleading tone to her sister's mental voice, but Gravity shook her head, forgetting Fusion still had her eye shut. "I'll have to do it at some point, and there's no way I'm going to practice on you."
But if--
Fusion didn't continue with the thought, but Gravity did. But if you die, what will happen to us? We will be helpless when they come through the door. "There's a first time for everything," she said gently, "you didn't have any problems, so there's no reason I should. You can check everything before I do it."
There was a long pause, then the other mare sighed. Okay. But take no chances -- if you are uncertain, even slightly, I want you to stop.
"Yes, mother."
I'm serious!
There was a note of real panic in Fusion's mental voice, prompting a pang of guilt from Gravity. "Sorry. Right..." The pattern solidified in her mind, only a gentle push away from reality. Fusion spent long seconds inspecting the spell, so long that the blue mare almost thought she'd go ahead and cast it anyway, Maker damn the consequences. Finally she gave her approval.
Gravity gave the construct one last check, then pushed--
~~~ discontinuity ~~~
--and staggered, wings flicking out for balance as she dropped a quarter length to the hard floor. The world spun crazily and Gravity closed her eyes until the dizziness passed, trying to ignore the little burning spots dotted over her flanks and back, and the sudden smell of burnt fur. "Damn, landings are a bit tricky," she said out loud, flexing each leg in turn while reopening the link to Fusion. "Exactly as you described, sister. It's a good job the exit location for the long jump is at high altitude."
The sharing connection opened -- it had failed at the moment of teleport -- and Gravity was greeted by a wordless wash of relief coming from the other mare. The emotional overtones were something she'd noticed in the last session, but they were getting stronger each time as both ponies became more familiar with the enchantment, more of the 'sharing' aspect manifesting itself without the need for complete focus and calm.
What happened with your exit? Fusion asked.
"Too high, but not high enough for wings," Gravity said. "Think I know what went wrong though." While she was talking, she lifted part of the mountain of discarded Security equipment, letting the gear float around her in a dense swarm. Then, without giving her sister time to object, Gravity brought up the pattern and pushed--
~~~ discontinuity ~~~
--landing neatly on all fours, her collection of orbiting hardware all displaced by the same amount and still floating around her body. There was a little more effort required this time, but the whole process seemed cleaner; she didn't lose any more fur and the disorientation passed much more quickly.
"I had to know if I could carry anything. Don't worry, it's much easier the second time around," she said, casting the sharing spell again.
--avity, what have you-- Oh! Dammit mare, don't just do that!
Gravity accepted her sister's anger for what it really was: fear, and sent a wordless apology back down the link. "I think I'm nearly ready. Next step is to sow some confusion."
What do you plan to do, pull the roof down?
Gravity cast her eyes over something she'd seen in the floating pile of gear. An angular box, perhaps a quarter length on a side and half that thick, it was a dull gunmetal grey and had a row of pictograms along the top surface. She found the thing and swept it with her magic, sharing the vision with Fusion. Inside the case was mostly a fine powder packed into a fan of composite plates, looking like a series of wide funnels joined in a circle, narrow ends at the centre. The top of the box was filled with the same powder.
She frowned, trying to identify the sensations coming back from her magic, then shrugged. "Times like this I wish I was in manufacturing. Any ideas?" she grumbled, trying to interpret the black-on-dark-grey pictograms. Something explosive, that was clear, but the effect radius seemed so large that she doubted her understanding of the images.
A chemical weapon, some sort of irritant powder? Fusion said, nudging Gravity to look more closely at the central mechanism; at the junction of all the plates was an array of small objects linked by wires to a pack of electronics on one edge of the box.
"Too heavy, it must be a metal -- aluminium or magnesium by the feel of it." She looked again at the little diagrams. Definitely an explosion, she thought. "Fuel-air bomb?"
A metal dust thermobaric, Fusion said, mental voice faint with horror. One that big would -- actually I don't really know, but the blast wave might gut most of this place. Possibly even collapse the site all the way to the surface, especially after all the damage you did getting here.
Gravity smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect. I've got three." And a host of other explosives, half used magazines, guns, equipment, bits of armour... she thought, gazing at the pile of battlefield detritus.
===
The high frequency scream of a power suit's rotary cannon, distorted by its passage through the wrecked Institute, echoed out of the darkness. Flysoldat Olvir Bergthor nervously scratched at the side of his beak, just where the visor clamped to the upper section. What he really wanted to do was get at the itch beneath his eye, but sersjant Galmr had already shouted at him once for that, and another infraction would earn him a half second zap from his command collar. He tried to follow orders, he really did, but somehow things never seemed to go to plan.
This had resulted in a higher than normal proportion of 'pointless' duty -- mostly guarding doors that almost no one ever used, at times no sensible gryphon would ever want to experience -- so he was very surprised to be here, more so in full assault armour. Orders were orders, though, even if they were delivered with a slight tone of despair, a tone Galmr always seemed to use when talking to Olvir.
He was near the front of the blockade force, part of the four squads spread across the width of the transit tunnel, each gryphon trying to find as much cover as they could. It hadn't started out that way; there had been no urgency and no expectation of anything happening, until the noises had started to filter up from the rest of the complex. He exchanged glances with the gryphon a little further down the line, his HUD tagging the otherwise slate grey shape with name and rank identifiers, then turned back to stare into the darkness.
He hunkered down a little lower and tried to get some saliva in his mouth, when there was another one of those flat snapping cracks that sounded more like shots from a vehicle railgun than anything the entry team had. Olvir had coped reasonably well with the normal live fire exercises and simulated wargames, so it was an unwelcome surprise to discover that gunfire from a truly unknown source was far more intimidating than he thought it would be.
A kilosecond passed with little sign of any further conflict, and Olvir also learned that waiting for something to happen was almost as bad as unknown noises out of the dark. He itched to talk to someone, but combat comms rules were active and it wouldn't win him any friends. Finally his earbud hummed into life with the stern voice of his sersjant.
"Friendlies coming in, do not engage, repeat, do not engage."
Something of the tone in those last few words made it sound like Galmr was speaking directly to him, and Olvir sighed quietly, tapping the acknowledgement key on his collar. One mistake, he thought, and they never let you forget it. Surely that's what the simulations are for-- Something moved at the limit of his night vision gear, a shifting false colour blob that quickly resolved itself into a collection of gryphons and ponies. Olvir squinted, wishing the optics could match the acuity of his real eyes. "These things always give me a headache," he mumbled, then flinched in anticipation of a shock, before realising he'd left his comms on push-to-talk rather than the mandated 'voice activation'.
There was something odd about that group -- it was certainly smaller than he'd expected, and the way they moved... No armour, Olvir thought, where is all their equipment? A gryphon loaded for combat had a certain swagger dictated by the extra mass of all that armour, and the same was true for ponies -- although in their case what gave it away were the bulky packs they carried. Olvir scanned the group again, suddenly realising what else was missing.
I can only see four Masters, wait... weren’t there supposed to be three hostages as well? Olvir looked again; only one of the Masters had the build and way of walking he associated with People in the military.
The thought was shocking; all through his training it had been drummed into Olvir that they were here to protect their Masters. It was a point of pride among gryphons that they were the ones sent in first, the ones at the thickest fighting. Gryphons were built for battle, and it was something they did very well. To have lost so comprehensively and yet still be alive would be a crushing dishonour for the soldiers. Worse, this was one of the Ripper teams, supposedly the best the Hive could produce.
The airtanks, a pair of the long range scouting models most useful for navigating the tunnels inside the larger structures, suddenly came alive, lifting off the floor on their crystal levitators. Shutters snapped open on the streamlined turret that comprised a third of the upper hull, and the corridor was bathed in a stark white light. Olvir carefully tapped a metal shod talon on the side of his visor, dropping out of thermal mode and letting his real eyes see the returning team.
Only one military Master, four ponies and just four walking gryphons, all as naked as the day they were hatched. A number of black bags, suspended in various telekinetic fields, floated alongside the group. Olvir swallowed heavily. He'd never got on with the Rippers -- there was always a certain arrogance that he'd found hard to stomach, over and above what you normally found in those who knew they were the elite -- but it was obvious that some of them had been taught a hard lesson. Some of those bags were distinctly misshapen, and many were smaller than they should have been.
"What the Maker is that?" he murmured, attracting an unconscious nod of agreement from the gryphon hunkered down a little further along the improvised barricade. A lumpy conglomeration of metal and stone, about the size of a coffin, floated with the cluster of body bags. The more he stared, the more little features started to jump out of the mass; a length of twisted metal that could be a gun barrel here, a cluster of armour scales there. The realisation was slow to dawn, but when it came it was like a hammer blow.
"It's a suit!" he said, far too loud for the circumstances, then cringed, but no reprimand came. Risking a quick glance he saw the reason; everyone else was just as shocked as he was. Those suits were tough; he'd seen video of them being shot up, and nothing a gryphon had would poke a hole in them easily. This one had been wadded up like so much packing material and embedded into part of a concrete wall.
Orders boomed out from one of the vehicles, but Olvir wasn't paying attention and didn't catch the words. The magic glow died, lowering the bags and stretchers to the ground, then the ponies sat down. The gryphons and the Master walked forward with the careful, deliberate gait of creatures who knew they were in the sights of twitchy soldiers, dragging the wounded as best they could. The remains of the power suit was placed carefully to one side; it probably weighed a tonne or more and only a pony could shift it.
Olvir rose out of his crouch, intending to rush forward and help the injured, but a heavy set of talons landed on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He turned, hissing instinctively at this invasion of his personal space, stopping when he saw the face of his sersjant. The other gryphon shook his head, pointing at the concrete with one claw, then at Olvir and the rest of the squad. "Stay," he said, "help them when they reach our line."
Olvir snapped his beak in reflexive acceptance of the order, any urge to protest stilled by Galmr's serious expression. The injured came forward, and Olvir picked up the rear corner of a field stretcher by its beak loop, quickly moving it to the back of a waiting airtruck configured as a battlefield ambulance. The soldier, a female gryphon he didn't know, moaned and gabbled quietly during the whole process, whatever medical care she'd received insufficient to completely dull her pain. Olvir couldn't take his eyes off her shoulder; what had been a smooth curve of muscle and feathers looked like a sack full of broken, bloody glass.
All of the stretcher bays were filled, the remainder secured in the space normally occupied by the veterinarian pony. Olvir felt a little ill; medical care was almost exclusively the job of the battlefield medics, ponies whose sole task was to ensure that the injured survived a fast extraction to a behind the lines facility. These so-called ambulances had little in the way of life preserving machines, other than the pony that rode in the back with the wounded.
"No pony," Olvir muttered, as the jostling provoked a fresh round of moans from the injured. "Weren't some of these on medical support spells when they were brought in?"
"Yes," said the gryphoness who'd been on the front of the stretcher, her grey furred tail lashing the air as she stared at the badly injured female, "Ragna was. Now shut up."
"I'm sorry," Olvir said quietly, reaching out one metal-shod foreleg in a gesture of sympathy, pulling it back when he saw the look on the other's face. There was a quiet pinging through his earbud, an order to return to his post, which he ignored. "What happened? They haven't told us anything."
"It was a pony. A pony, just one." She saw Olvir's look of disbelief and slumped, dropping her haunches to the floor. "I only saw her once, and then for just a moment. Blue, and burning like she was on fire..." The gryphoness stared off into the distance, then shivered, eyes clearing and turning her gaze back on Olvir. "Better hope you don't meet her."
Olvir nodded dumbly, helping her into the back of the ambulance, then hurried to his place on the line.
===
One kilosecond later, Rthar and the remnants of his force were approaching the wall of Security armour that blocked the upper level transit tunnel leading out of the Institute. A pair of spotlights came on and he froze, holding up one paw to stop the rest of his group. There were at least a dozen vehicles he could see, mostly the normal mix of armoured airtrucks that Security outfitted for anything from prisoner transport to mobile command posts.
What made him hesitate was where the light was coming from. Someone had parked a pair of airtanks, one on each side of the transit tunnel, each with its quarter length wide laser aperture pointed squarely at his servitors. The heavy lenticular vehicles rested with their bellies touching the concrete, but the thrumming vibration of their idling drives was clearly audible. The light was coming from those lasers, the solid state emitters defocused and set to broadband; it would take only a twitch to turn the corridor into a charnel house. In positions around the vehicles were at least a dozen of the People in full powered suits and twice that number of gryphons.
"Servitors will lay on the floor and cease all magic. All others will walk forward." The voice, distorted by the normal electronic synthesiser Security used as an intimidation tactic, boomed out from one of the airtrucks.
"There are wounded--" Rthar yelled back, only to be cut off.
"Carry them."
The Captain shivered slightly, beginning to get a bad feeling about this. He gestured to the nervous looking ponies, who carefully lowered the injured and recovered dead to the floor, before folding their legs and lying down. "Master?" Bastion said tentatively, his eyes never leaving the armoured bulk of the airtanks, "we had direct contact with the rogue and our information may be of value in the short term."
Rthar flicked a glance at the barricade, noting the tension in the figures behind it. There were no servitors visible, something that he found deeply worrying. The pony knows something is very wrong here, he thought, and so does this one. "The Captain will make sure command is aware of this," he said, reaching down to grab the corner of a stretcher and starting to drag it away.
After what seemed like an age -- having to walk towards aimed weapons is never fun, even when it's your own side -- the Captain and his gryphons reached the barricade, where many paws were ready to hustle them back from the front line. Rthar left the gryphons and hostages to be loaded into an airtruck for transport to a local hospital that had been taken over by Security, while he was escorted to the local commander, who was currently in the communications bay of one of the airtrucks.
The Major, a heavily muscled, black-furred female in a light armour suit, greeted him with a sour expression. "The Captain really screwed this one up, didn't he?" she said, waving away his salute.
Rthar felt the stirrings of outrage, but was too tired to give that the reply it deserved. "The servitor is massively stronger than it should be. This one had a full herd of Security ponies, and the rogue managed to hold them off, all while coming under near continuous fire from two squads of Rippers and this one's own team."
"Yes, from the state of the Captain's Rippers, it's obvious how much of a fight they put up," she said, curling her lip, "where is all their equipment, and yours?"
"Major Wethula, with all due respect, that can be left to the board of inquiry. The servitors tell this one that they have information about the rogue--"
"How much contact did they have with it?" she said sharply.
"The duration of the fight, plus several hundred seconds after they surrendered."
"They surrendered?"
"This one was not present to give orders, he imagines they assumed he was dead, and acted to save as many of the People as possible."
"The Captain is aware that command suspects the rogue can remove the Blessing from any servitor it has undisturbed contact with?"
Rthar twitched, stomach twisting. "Yes, this seems a logical conclusion." He shifted his gaze to the array of monitors, several showing his servitors huddled together under the sharp white light of the airtank's main guns. "This one is sure that this has not occurred," he said carefully, "even so, they can be tested--"
"The Major has been ordered not to allow any chance that an unconditioned servitor could escape into the general population."
The Captain closed his eyes and sighed. This one tried, he thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Understood. What are the Major's orders?"
"The Captain is to immediately travel to the Pit for debrief; a fast aircar is waiting for him. That is all."
"Yes, ma'am," Rthar said, saluting and stalking out of the airtruck.
===
Airtank Pilot Hakon sat in the formfitting chair, the anti-acceleration gimbals locked for low speed, close quarters battle, just in front of the fusion reactor's tokamak and just behind the wedge shaped glacis plate that that ran around the rim of his squashed-egg shaped Firebug airtank. Gunner Lazgo sat behind and a little to the right, offset by the reactor core that occupied the centre of the vehicle. The third member of the crew, a servitor by the name of Mantlet, was absent, having been ordered to return to the Pit after the nature of the threat became obvious.
Each crew station was isolated from the others by the spherical gimbal arrays that allowed the couches to move relative to the airtank and reduce the effects of high G manoeuvring in a turning fight. Despite the separation, Hakon actually missed the comforting bulk of the creature. Unlike Lazgo, it didn't suffer from body odour, and always put its all into whatever duty was required of it. Mantlet's main job was making sure the airtank was in full working order, something that always kept it busy, what with the current generation of adaptive optics still having reliability issues.
The parade of wounded and dead had turned what should have been a routine blockade job to something far more serious; Hakon had been watching the thaumic activity plots, but the low resolution coloured patches overlaying the wireframe map hadn’t seemed real up until that point. The intelligence coming back from the command airtruck had been most unsettling. To have lost so many, so quickly, to a single servitor, he thought, watching the survivor march away on the airtank’s peripheral cameras. This one doesn’t envy the debrief the Captain will go through; he’ll probably never command again.
Hakon was staring at the herd of ponies, starkly illuminated by the defocused beam of the laser set to broadband emission. The inside of his gimbal array was covered with high resolution displays; with the exception of the chair and control console it was as if the hull was transparent. At this range the view was excellent; he could count the individual hairs on the flanks of the closest, see where the fur and feathers were matted with dirt and dust and sweat.
The pony, a green stallion, was talking quietly with its neighbour. Probably trying to work out what it has done wrong, Hakon thought. He unconsciously started to nibble at his thumb claw, unable to take his eyes off the creature. The Pilot had worked closely with Mantlet for megaseconds and knew what distress looked like -- all the servitors shared the same body language; lowered ears and downcast eyes. No matter that they weren't really people, they were certainly not stupid and must know something was wrong. There was a terrible inevitability to the situation, but still he held out hope that his fears were unjustified.
Lazgo had gone back to watching the thaumic plot and opened a map window over his view of the herd. Hakon felt an obscure flash of gratitude for the distraction and focused his attention on the shifting colours of the overlay. “Look at this,” Lazgo said, “what does Hakon think it’s doing?”
The rogue servitor was on the move, flitting around the complex near the beam chamber, apparently using magic at odd locations. The pattern was interesting, and Hakon manipulated the viewing controls to play the sequence back and forth through time. Understanding dawned just as another intel update appeared at the front of his message queue. A quick glance at the message and he nodded; it made perfect sense. “Look at the last bulletin,” he said, calling up the picture.
The image, taken from one of the increasingly short lived drones that the rogue seemed to be actively hunting down, showed one of the main support pillars, shorn of its surrounding infrastructure. The two length wide cylinder had a large circular bite out of one side, the inner surfaces of which were so smooth that they gleamed wetly.
“It’s attacking the supports -- what good will that do it?”
Hakon rolled his eyes. Lazgo really is new to this, he reminded himself, but it would be nice if the Gunner had some imagination. “This reminds me of that Maker’s Path bunch a while back, they wanted to stop us storming the office block they’d holed up in.”
“Lazgo remembers that; didn’t do them much good, did it?”
“No, Gunner,” Hakon said dryly, “but we didn’t get the building back, either.”
Another message appeared, and Hakon gritted his teeth. In the palm sized internal video window he saw Lazgo grip the master arm deadperson switch with one paw, his other confirming the weapon's settings. Thank the Maker that Mantlet isn't here to see this, he thought, as Lazgo pulled the trigger.
The main sensors had filters tuned to the wavelength of the airtank's lasers, so the megawatts of light did nothing to impede his view. This was no microsecond pulse train; Lazgo left the system on continuous wave and just held the trigger down. Almost quicker than the eye could see, all four ponies burst into a fierce, roaring fire, thermal blooming from the lasers pulling more air into the target zone and feeding the flames. There was a little movement, right at the start -- a couple jerking away from the light, one who started to spread its wings -- but in moments they had all slumped over, rapidly turning into red glowing carbon that dissolved into the superheated air.
"Whooo, look at them go!" the Gunner hollered, "makes this one want something barbequed!"
Hakon closed his eyes as the instant conflagration filled his screen with madly dancing flames. Lazgo continued to chatter happily, ignoring the stony silence from Hakon. The Pilot tried to hold on to his temper, releasing an involuntary growl of warning that Lazgo either ignored or didn't notice.
The lasers didn't stop firing until there was nothing left apart from a dark patch on an otherwise red hot floor.
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For reasons that will become obvious, this chapter is both early and followed almost immediately by the next one.
Enjoy!
Woo, Gravity is taking another step towards becoming Luna - and likely also Nightmare Moon!
Once again, I'm impressed by how nuanced your handling of the Masters and griffons is. Rthar is an implacable enemy of the sisters, by virtue of who and what he is, but he's not a villain. Still, I'm afraid that every pony that's had close contact with Fusion and Gravity is going to end up dead.
Yes! Teleportation acquired as a skill for Luna. And now it's time to get out of there before something they can't currently handle comes by to permanently ruin their day.
Woah, that security team had some serious hardware. Sucks to be on any team that's coming in next.
Ah shit, I was wondering if we were about to get a security pony purge.
Maker's Path? Interesting.
>>>He was deep underground, but a max power shot from that oversized mass driver would turn this facility and everything for a kilolength into high velocity ejecta.>>>
Tsk! Mass drivers! What barbarians! The League on Non-Alligned Worlds banned the use of mass drivers! Only evil scum like the Centauri would stoop so low! (Babylon 5 ref)
>>>"The Major has been ordered not to allow any chance that an unconditioned servitor could escape into the general population.">>>
>>>There was a little movement, right at the start -- a couple jerking away from the light, one who started to spread its wings -- but in moments they had all slumped over, rapidly turning into red glowing carbon that dissolved into the superheated air.
"Whooo, look at them go!" the Gunner hollered, "makes this one want something barbequed!">>>
Urge to kill... rising... rising... falling... RISING!!!
*MAXIMUM RAGE LEVEL ACHIEVED*
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
th04.deviantart.net/fs42/300W/i/2009/083/5/c/Ichigo_Final_Awaking_by_mansarali.jpg
*Alondro is slightly perturbed by the current events... and may wipe out humanity accidentally...*
Dropped a comma, and there's an extra quote
Another dropped comma
This should probably be a separate sentence, and you dropped the quote at the end
No offense intended, this story competes with Paradise as my favorite story ever, but your chapters are huge.
Like, Big McLarge-Huge.
9,000 plus words.........
I mean, I love this, but the average chapter for a fic is 1,000.
So it kinda feels like a wall of text. The best wall o' text ever, but nevertheless a textwall.
3124921
They breed when I'm not looking, I swear it. Thanks, I'll fix those.
3125811
A thousand? That's hardly a scene for me! Chapter size isn't likely to change (although I cap it at 8-10K, as that's about an hour of reading time). Stay with it!
...you probably want to stay away from FO:E.
3122596
Thanks, glad that's coming through (no matter how much fun it is to write, they can't all be vicious sadists!).
I think you usually use italics for what you mean is happening here, not quotes. (Right? Fusion's still not speaking physically yet?)
This "Maker's Path" thing sounds like interesting backstory.
Oh god. I was mostly aware that they were ruthless, but oh my god...
Well, it did slow them down a bit, make them try that before just obliterating you from a distance. Made them try to rescue them. And hopefully it bought you enough time.
Quite a few uses, he has good reason not to want to go, and, unlikely. He's the one who might just be willing to join you and be helpful. Given what the other option is for him if once security gets their paws on him.
Likely the leader who turned off his suit I'm guessing. Though without the suit, servitors, gear, any kind of real equipment, and as long as Gravity stays on guard... shouldn't be TOO bad.
And the one good think The Blessing and other such programming does, is make the other ponies rather predictable. Gives the Sisters plenty of ways to take them out of the equation without hurting them.
Let's hope he shares what Gravity has said with other ponies, so none of them are willing to come down and face her.
Hints of Dreamwalker Luna?
Well, now she is at least looking at things right, admitting just what they are. Though, teasing foals? Eh even in modern Equestria you got plot-holes like DT and SS. Plus, as she said, the brainwashing and conditioning. Just remember this, remember what you are fighting to stop.
See, you could likely guess but, didn't really like this bit. Again just more tension, more throwing bad shit at them on top of all they've just been through. Now, on it's own, it does make sense... can't say I really like it, but, it does make sense for Fusion to be having this panic attack. But, it just doesn't feel right to me. Especially when it comes to nothing really. Just a bit of added grinding her down, making things bad for them, showing how close to screwed they are, how bad it all is right now... and then a few words and all fixed. Just... again the detail is nice, and it does make sense logically to happen but, just feels like to much to me.
Really? That can't be comfortable. Figured they'd at least get a bit of padding. Something to keep the chafing or other issues to a minimum. And, at least he's leaving, though this will lead to some other issues. But just of getting the second response mobilizes quicker.
Guessing he's not going to be eager to go back for round two either. That can be useful. The sight of just what they can do is so terrifying, those that survive won't be eager for a rematch. Aside from the insane ones like Salrath.
Okay and liking this scene so far. Rthar isn't an idiot. At least a total one. He knows there are limits to what he can push his ponies. That he wouldn't be acting like this without good reason. And the Griffon responding automatically like that, still clearly shaken, but having this stuff drilled into her so deeply she's able to respond in instinct.. the whole point of military training. Very nice.
Wait... they actually cut a chunk of pillar out to bring his pancaked remains with them?
Great... now all I can think of is Red Versus Blue. Though at least Doc was still alive, just stuck in the wall. Really kind of kills any drama.
But still interesting they would do that.
Scratch that, so, no extra time gained really. Fuck. Though good thinking on her part.
And the one time when bureaucracy would be a good thing...
Key word there, Long Term. And even that, could be dealt with given enough time and motivation.
That doesn't sound ominous at all. Now let's hope they hold off on another response till after that debriefing.
Fuck, so they have a response, and no clue what that is. Though not telling him, yeah smart move and makes sense. Well, lets hope this response either takes time, or still underestimates what Gravity can do.
Well, that was what I was thinking would be the most likely response now. And given that.. and how little time they really need. that's likely a good thing. it'll take time to get hat thing set up, get the votes, explain the situation. And by then, the Sisters could teleport out, and no one knows they left. Though given how long is left in the story... seems it can't be THAT simple....
Okay, and why not? Though yeah given the bickering I can see that being only an ultimate last resort. But again, gives the Sisters time. And yeah you know how fucked you are when they get free. And you lot have no one to blame but yourselves. If you hadn't abused, enslaved and tortured generations of them for your own sick goals and pleasure, they wouldn't have a reason to swat you like bugs, would they?
So bringing a suppressor into play. Now to hope that chamber does in fact shield them. But won't interfere with teleports.
Alright, so good news. About an hour before the suppressors get online. and at least an hour and a half before the troops arrive and make it down to where they are. Time was what they needed, and time is what they got. Started at 20, had to take out a few before the security team got in, all this, Fusion is starting to feel the drugs wearing off. Another hour and a half, 6 more down, gotta be DAMN close to where she'll be active again.
Ah, okay, loved that line. And yeah can feel the Schlock slipping in
And already up to testing, yeah things are looking up. Now to see how things fuck up.
Well, and got it on the first go. NICE! Though ummm, maybe you should either try teleporting outside the chamber first, or you know, leave it before doing this? Just in case it's anti-magic shielding is an issue.
And, again love this. both would rather risk themselves then their sister. And the thought of testing it on Lilac isn't even worth responding to. Really nice. Now to see what goes wrong, there is way to much left in the story for things to be this easy.
So that two being mentally linked is getting better and better? More instinctive, closer... damn that is really nice.
Heh nice. Both her reaction, and seeing just what Fusions reaction was based on. Though sowing confusion.
no no, bad Gravity, get the buck out of there NOW! Though alright I do get what she means, why she's doing it. If only she knew about the suppressors en route. And still haven't figured out if they can teleport outside of the shielded area. If they can't, then they are fucked. Or how a teleport through an anti-magic field would work. Granted it all depends on just how the teleport works. If they travel anywhere, or if it's more like wormholes. The only points where they actually interact with the 'real' world is the entry and exit.
Everything so far makes it seem like the latter, but it's not conclusive.
Who the fuck packed their gear? Lieutenant Pie? Well this should be interesting.
Heh and yay back to one of the good Griffons. Well good as in, not an utter asshole
Heh, alright and suddenly I find myself hopping Olvir makes it out. Again, thank you for the tiny bits of humor, they really do help out with the mood and, yeah it's going a lot better then last chapter.
Very true.
Wait, what? Okay now.. I really want to hear that story..
Wow, he just gets more and more hilarious bad at being a soldier.
Well, not anymore they aren't.
And Gravity just managed to terrify an entire other compliment of soldiers without even ever meeting them. Who's volunteering to go down next?
And... why do I have a bad feeling over what's about to happen....
Okay, this line confused the hell out me for a bit till I worked it out. Jumping from Olvir to Rthat, alright, but that "one kilosecond later" bit, just made it really odd. Took me a bit to realize it was one Kilosecond later.. from the last time we saw Rthar, not one kilosecond later from where we just were.
Yeah really don't like where this is going. They just fucking saved all your lives....
Yeah and you lot wonder why a pony would ever have reason to wipe you fuckers out.
And saw that coming. yeah keep it up, shit like this will just make it easier and easier for them to get ponies on their side.
And again just, a brief little bit showing that no, even here, not ALL Masters are that evil.. some, like this one and Korn, do actually see the ponies as living thinking beings. Do have some empathy with them. And it's as much conditioning on their part that they can't see them as more. As much their own society telling them, programming them that Ponies are inferior....
And then you have assholes like this...
Well, up till the ending, and other then that bit with he panic attack, really liked this. It was a nice, calmer bit, more about winding down from all the action. Gravity and Fusion now have a way to escape, a plan. And plenty of time to enact it. Though still curious just what is left to take up as much time as there is story left, so something has to go wrong...
And then the end.... saw it coming, and like I said, all they are doing is making it easier and easier for Gravity and Fusion to justify themselves, to be willing to fight harder, and to recruit other ponies to their side.
I love this line. I was thinking they should blow up the room they're in to cover what actually happened to them then Gravity picked up the fuel-air bomb.
I don't know why I didn't see this coming four chapters ago. I'm particularly disgusted with Rthar and Hakon. I get that there was nothing they could do to stop it. What disturbs me is that there wasn't even a consideration to try, to even consider that what is happening is wrong. It's all well and good to feel bad for Bastion and his herd, it's another to simply accept that it's just the way things are and move on.
Y'know, if I didn't suspect better of you I'd assume that you separated Fusion and Gravity's mind link during the fighting on purpose.
You don't want Fusion seeing Gravity's darker side this early. Why? Is this about keeping Fusion "pure" or something?
Honestly i'm going to assume all of the dogs are under some sort of subtle mass mind control or they're all psychopaths....
You know, the last bit of sympathy I had for this species just died. Korn, you tried your best, but the rest of your species needs to die. I promise yours will be a swift and painless one.
Celestia's response to hearing about her dead kinsmen: What are fingers? I don't know, but here's the middle one!
i.ytimg.com/vi/zfFZUz5cqGA/hqdefault.jpg
All These people in the comments talking about how terrible the dogs are have missed the point of that last part of the chapter. While Lazgo is terrible, Hakon is right next to him acting as a foil, actually feeling bad about ponies being killed. It's here to show that dogs aren't all the same, that they aren't all good or bad.