Prologue
"The capital letter delta (Δ, which has the convenient form of an isosceles triangle) is commonly used in subjects of science and mathematics, often to describe change, because delta is the initial letter of the Greek word διαφορά, diaphorá, "difference." "
"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything."
―George Bernard Shaw
Earth Calendar: 2113
Equestrian Calendar: 11 AC (After Contact)
August 12th, Gregorian Calendar
April ran. April had been running as long as she could remember, which was as long as her legs had been able to support her own weight. April knew very little save how to run, why she was running, and her name. Her sister had named her. Her sister had found her on the first of April.
Sonya had saved her, and in her own unintentional way, she had condemned April as well.
Sonya was already tagged.
For April it was only a matter of time, but still they ran; A hope against all hope that their fate could somehow be avoided. It wasn't fair. April was only five, Sonya nine; Far too young to be made into experiments. Into soldiers.
Sonya knew she had been born on the streets, abandoned from the instant she had left her mother's womb, alive only due to the providential intervention of unsavory, but concerned elements.
April's memory, like most children, was dimmer. The mystery of her life that once-was sometimes haunted her, in the quietest moments of the night, with only the sounds of passing cars beyond the mouth of some dim alley for company. A time when the concerns of running and scavenging seemed distant.
She wondered what might have been. Day was for wondering what might be next, but night was for wondering what might have been, and crying softly for what should have been.
Day was also for running. In darkness there was safety. Hiding was easy in the dark.
Though the sky seemed made of iron, or copper left to decay in the rain, it let in more than enough light to make hiding difficult. When hiding became difficult, the men in armor came.
The men in armor had been chasing Sonya since she was able to run. April knew how they always seemed to find them; When they had first found Sonya they had hurt her. They had cut her open, laid chips all inside her back-bone. April could still see the damage whenever she had to bandage a fresh wound on her older adoptive sister's back.
Now the men in armor wanted her too.
It was day again, and April ran, following Sonya through the alleys, gutters, pipes, and catwalks of hell. Or it felt like what hell must be. It seemed strange to April. Overall New York must have been a nice enough place for anyone who could come home to electricity, loved ones, and a locked door at night, and go out into the crowds unafraid during the day. Even the grimy underbelly of the city was surprisingly well maintained for being the most neglected part of it.
The alleys weren't what made it hell, nor the grime. It was the men in the armor.
April knew; She had begged and pestered Sonya to tell her. A known fear was always better than an imagined one. Sonya had described the way they cut her, slicing open her back from hairline to navel, laying her spine bare without anesthetic.
She had described, in the sort of clear detail only true joy, or excruciating trauma, can lend to the usual imperfections of Human memory, the way they had stabbed the spikes into her bones.
Glowing spikes. Spikes full of tiny machines, with enigmatic and sinister purpose one and all.
The spikes owned Sonya now. And the men with armor owned the spikes. The men with armor owned Sonya, though she ran from them all the while. As they used her own body against her, and followed the sisters, it became apparent that they wanted April too.
Sonya had mentioned that there were other children, dozens or maybe hundreds, when she had been cut open and filled with machines. April had owned, or stolen, a few second and third hand DaTabs. Some of them had books. She knew what an experiment was. The men in armor wanted to make them experiments.
It was a cruel fate. April was not yet able to survive on her own. Neither she nor Sonya trusted anyone else on the street enough to protect them from the men in armor. Once they had tried to trust a Pony, but the men killed the Pony. Their distrust was now for the protection of others, as much as themselves.
April didn't care much for the Ponies, except to dream of going to wherever they came from one day. Somehow. An escape to a place the men in armor could never follow.
Mostly, April was too busy worrying about running, or too scared that the men following them would kill more Ponies if they got in the way. The Ponies didn't deserve to suffer.
April vaulted a railing with practiced ease, and continued pounding the pavement, inches behind her sister. If the men in armor caught her, they would put spikes in her too. Then, like Sonya, they would always follow her. Always kill anyone who helped her. Force her to survive on her own, force her to be alone so that she would learn to rely on the spikes.
Then, like Sonya, they would own her too. If she could stay free long enough, she could escape.
But the Bureaus had an age limit, and so far little thought seemed to have been given to an exception for orphans. The Bureaus seemed the only escape. The men in armor had eyes everywhere. Every camera on every DaTab, every street corner, and every drone that patrolled the skies, belonged to them.
Nowhere on Earth was safe for long.
Sonya put on a burst of speed, and rounded the corner. April quickened her own pace to catch up, skidding around the duracrete side of the new skyscraper as her ratty old sneakers connected with a puddle. Her sneakers always aged quickly. Too much acidic grime, not enough time to clean them. The acid melted the rubber. Eventually.
Upon rounding the corner, April skidded into a man, and stopped dead in her tracks. This man wore no armor. This man wore a suit, and an expensive one if comparison to other men she had seen from afar amounted to anything.
Sonya was already standing behind him, quietly, as if he were protecting her. April glanced past the man at Sonya, cautiously, and saw that there were three other men, also in suits. Together they formed a square around a car. A very expensive car.
From the expensive car stepped a woman. Her auburn hair was trussed up in a curly nest that was meant to look fashionable, but reminded April more of the tangle wires and cables got into when left alone with no one looking at them.
The woman too wore a suit, but it was a deep shade of red. Like satin. Or blood. A curious silver pin adorned the collar, but all April could make out about it was the twinkling glint of an emerald setting.
The woman smiled, "It's alright little one. You can stop running. I'm here to take care of you. Are you cold?"
April thought for a moment. The men in the suits had guns. Big guns. If the woman wanted to help, surely the men in the armor wouldn't dare to attack the men in the suits. Men in suits meant the woman was powerful. For the first time in months, April allowed herself a tiny hope.
She nodded meekly, and the woman gestured to her car, "Come! Ride with me! It's warm inside, and safe. I even brought you food."
Again April hesitated, looking to her older sister for advice. Sonya offered little to no indication, so April assumed that meant it was safe.
She took a hesitant step towards the car. The woman smiled, "That's right! Come with me my little one."
The woman hadn't been lying; The inside of the car was warm, and comfortable, and it felt very safe. There was food on a tray in front of her seat. Hot drink, and good high quality synthetic meat. April bit directly into it without hesitation. A good meal didn't come along very often.
It was only after the suited woman had taken a seat beside her, shut the door, and gestured to the driver, that she realized how deep a mistake she had made. The signs all came together at once, starting with the pin.
By the light of the car's luxuriant rear compartment, April could finally make out that the woman's silver pin was in the shape of three globes, with inset emeralds in the shape of the continents.
Looking beyond the woman, and tensing, April saw the telltale indicator that had been invisible from her previous position.
The man in the suit whom she had first run into was holding a gun, a small ugly menacing thing, to the back of Sonya's head, so hard that it was pressing a temporary indentation into her skin.
Finally, April realized that whatever she had just eaten was not what it seemed. Sonya had given her something called morphine once, when a shot from a man in armor had cut open her shoulder. The effect April was feeling reminded her of the morphine, but much more powerful.
As the car began to move, the suited woman smiled again, "There there. No need to be frightened. I am going to take extra special care of you. I am going to give you a wonderful gift my little girl. I am going to give you a purpose."
As she fell into unconsciousness, desperately trying to scream, the last thing April saw was the pin. The same emblem the men in armor wore. The same word stamped below it.
'Earthgov.'
"In bonds of family six set out; To seek The Dispossessed,
In joy and sorrow, grief and strife, bearing morbid stress.
Where Sun and Moon the expanse share, the six will find the power,
To put an end to Darkness... Strife... The war of Night's own hour."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
February 26th, Gregorian Calendar
For the first time in a century, Manhattan was being bathed in the warm glow of sunset. Mankind's well-meaning, but ill-timed attempt to bring an end to atmospheric pollution had soured the firmament in the mid 2000s, and so for nearly one hundred years the planet had done without the sun.
To be sure, some light did filter through the more-or-less opaque teal dome above, but it was hardly enough to sustain livable temperatures, let alone a food web. All animals, plants, and most microbes, had perished within a decade. Man was alone on Earth, and everything man ate now came out of a synth-kelp farm. Or from Equestria.
Equestria was the reason that the towers of New York were again being tinged with the molten auric tones of eventide. Equestria was the reason Mankind had a future. And it was also the reason New York had been designated a level five disaster zone.
Major General Hutchinson, or 'Hutch' to his friends, staff, and favored subordinates, stole a moment from his overloaded schedule to take in the sunlight. The brilliant rays and warmth, reflected from the Equestrian west off the dome of their healthy sky, and back onto the Earth, were pouring into his eighteenth story office window from the east. From the Barrier.
The Barrier, the Bubble, The end of the world... The glimmering wall of light had been given many apt nomenclatures ever since it had sprung into existence in 2102. The dome-shaped monstrosity was, in fact, not a solid wall, but 'merely' a discontinuity between two space-times. The reality of Earth, and the reality of a land called Equestria.
And the latter was consuming the former.
A former scientist had once illustrated it to Hutch as an example of momentum. The quantum reality of Equestria had ten to the third to the third more momentum than Earth's reality did, so it was going to pass through the fabric of local space, absorbing everything in its path.
That absorption came with a price.
Humans, complex Earth materials, and any remaining microbes on the planet, were totally incompatible with the quantum building blocks of Equestria's space time. Anything 'incompatible' with Equestria was atomized violently upon contact with the Barrier. Reduced to base carbons instantly. To this process there was no manner or form of exception. There was no defense.
Humans could not cross into the tantalizing fruitful paradise, that was so close, and so swiftly immolating their world. Until Conversion came.
Hutch snorted, sipped his coffee, and smiled wryly. The beverage was real Equestrian imported brew.
Hutch had long considered the idea of Conversion. At first the only option had been the Equine species who had been the lynchpin of first contact between the two worlds. Ponies.
The pastel colored Equinoids had a penchant for peace, friendship, and cooperation. They also had a deeply ingrained passivity, and struggled with serious cultural stagnation, by comparison to Humankind. Cultural anthropologists from both races estimated that they had been around for approximately the same amount of time, yet in those millennia Humanity had leapt ahead of Equestria technologically by nearly un-quantifiable levels.
Magic was partly to blame. Then again, magic was partly to blame for almost everything. While Earth's Thaumatically-arid environ could not support magic the same way Equestria's rich space-time could, its presence had still forever changed the course of Human society in startling ways. Hutch found it easy to see why a race possessed of such power would find swift technological development less imperative.
But it was only by a combination of magic and technology that Conversion had been created. The salvation of both Human and Equestrian alike.
With a few ounces of the colorful, sparkling Thaumatic nano-fluid, a human being could shed their Earthly bipedal familiar form, and become a member of an Equestrian race. Memories, personality, identity, and traits preserved; Melded with the traits and instincts, form and mentality of an Equestrian.
Humans could evacuate their dying world, and shed many of their Human flaws, and in turn Equestria could get a sorely needed infusion of Human vitality, inventiveness, and drive for self-improvement.
That was where Hutch came in. The Conversion Bureau initiative had not met with an entirely positive response. Some were prepared to make the symbiotic self-initiated evolution to a new species, a larger portion of the population were apathetic and dazed, and then there were the extremists.
They called themselves the HLF, and the PER. Human Liberation Front. Ponification for Earth's Rebirth. Earthgov called them terrorists, war criminals, and designated shoot-on-sight targets.
The HLF were comprised of Humans who were either so terrified of Conversion, or so caught up in the baser aspects of Human nature that Conversion often eliminated, that they were willing to slaughter their own indiscriminately to terrorize the populace and put people off Conversion.
They never intentionally targeted Humans outside the Bureaus and the military. But they never did anything to mitigate collateral damage when attacking Equestrians either.
The PER were comprised of Humans and Ponies so infatuated with the Equine race, and its powerful monarchs, that they viewed the taking of free will as an acceptable measure in guaranteeing Humanity's 'Rebirth in Light.' The PER were all about forcing people to become Ponies, whether they were ready and willing or not. Before, the crime had been despicable, but now it was downright unconscionable.
At first, Ponification had been the only option at the Bureaus. There were many Equestrian races, but only Ponies seemed prepared to take part in the Conversion initiative, and it did not look as if the science would support the inclusion of the other races.
Hutch smiled once more and stared out at the piercingly blue sky, the ripples of the Barrier giving it a slight ethereal haze. He had been part of the Option Gamma Project. The Military code-name for the first foray into Conversion as applied to other species. As a result, some of his best friends were now neither Human, nor Pony, but Gryphon.
A fierce, proud, stubborn mix of shining talons, sharp beaks, majestic wings, deadly claws, and unshakeable morals; Gryphons were one of the more militaristic Equestrian species. Despite a sharp cultural divide, they had long been close logistical and military allies of the Ponies.
The peaceful Equines needed the Gryphons to protect them from the dangers of Equestria, and the valiant Avians needed the Ponies to prevent them from severing or losing too many diplomatic ties at once, and ending up in a multi-front war too great for even their considerable power.
After the success of initial Gryphonizations, several Equestrian races had signed a pact with Ponies and Humans. The New Conversion Accords. Dragons, Zebra, Diamond Dogs, and Buffalo were the newest options for the future of the Human race.
The Accords specified a staggering in release dates; Zebrification and Draconification had already been running for two years. Despite initial incidents related to the latter program, the unique success of the former combined with swift and brave action had helped smooth things over. For a time.
Then, the previous year, Diamond Dog and Buffalo Conversion Serums had become publicly available.
Hutch winced as he considered the immensely detrimental impact the former had generated. The Buffalo Conversion program still suffered abysmally low numbers thanks to how badly the scandal surrounding the Canine serum had overshadowed it. The effect had metastasized into the other programs as well, but the dip in numbers of program applicants had been offset by the approach of the Barrier.
For every monetarily stable person that had been put-off Conversion by the scandal, there was a monetarily deprived person who lacked the means to escape the coming Barrier by moving to another part of the globe.
But it wasn't enough.
The latest Earthgov projections, the somber material on Hutch's DaTab, indicated that unless Conversion rates increased soon, that there would be a 'bubble-up' effect. People would, out of misplaced apathy or political, or emotional motivations, wait until it was too late.
Serum and space shortages would result as the bubble logarithmically sped up, leaving growing numbers of Humans without places to live.
The results would be riots, famine, a three hundred percent increase in murder rates, a climate rich for increased terrorism beyond its already chronically hellacious levels, and in the end, up to two billion people would perish as the planet died.
That was the conservative watered-down estimate.
Hutch grimaced and scrolled the text with a flick of his fingers in the air just above the sensitive touch and gesture-based screen. A second document came into view. A briefing on new Earthgov policy.
The Global Government had struggled for years to find ways of 'encouraging' people to Convert, while walking a legal and ethical tightrope between the untenable extremisms of the HLF and PER.
Perhaps the most important laws related to Conversion were ACACIA and the harshly maligned, somewhat older, Cross Species Intimacy Act. Equestrians and Humans were already biologically incompatible; Even a small amount of fluid transfer was enough to kill a Human. Equestrians were simply far and away above the Human biological tier.
But the Intimacy Act had taken things a step further, outlawing cross-species marriage and civil unions. There had been an immediate and fierce backlash from a small minority, mostly comprised of pro-PER sympathizers, dangerous radicals, and innocent Humans who were having trouble choosing between a loved one, and their doomed bipedal form.
Despite the furor, the bill had later been amended to include even stronger language, specifying that parents could not convert unless they also converted their children, and that if a child was converted, intentionally or not, that a parent must follow suit within a year, or lose custody of their child.
ACACIA had appeared shortly thereafter; The 'Age of Consent for Acceptable Conversion Initiation and Amenability' bill, lowered the minimum Conversion age for a Human without parental or guardian consent from twenty one, to eighteen.
ACACIA also contained new protocols for infants. Whereas before, it was illegal to Convert any child under the age of ten, now a child could be Converted from two years of age and up, as long as their parents were also being Converted or had been Converted.
Hutch sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he read the re-summarization of the bills, and the new information on upcoming legislation.
'It shall forthwith be the policy of this Council, that the following measures, having been adopted by popular vote, be implemented at once;
1; This Council, in conjunction and cooperation with the Equestrian mint, and reputable banks, shall offer a monetary stipend and land-claims to any New Yorker who will Convert before the Barrier arrives. The intent of this action is to incentivize the unconvinced to take initiative, in order to prevent a crisis.
2; This Council shall impose a logistics tax on any New York citizen moving away from the city, to another point on the globe, equal to five percent of the cost of whatever land or space such citizen or party is moving into, plus fifteen percent of the cost of the land or space that is being vacated, in addition to any existing taxes, tariffs, or expenses the law currently stipulates, and without exception for any circumstance.
3; This Council, in conjunction with the JRSF, and the Gryphon brotherhood of Knights, shall offer guaranteed equivalent ranking, pay, training, and a JRSF position, to any non-JRSF officer willing to Convert within the next five years.
In Council,
Vancouver
February 14th
A.D. 2117
15 AC'
Hutch set the DaTab down and tried to absorb the information. It was striking enough that, while the Harrisburg facility was still intact, the Council had already moved its North American headquarters to Vancouver.
The third measure seemed a long-time in coming. The JRSF, or Joint Reconnaissance & Strike Force, was a NATO-like paramilitary organization comprised of Human soldiers, Gryphon warriors, and Pony technicians, medics, and advisors.
In the years since the Option Gamma project, some Dragons, Lupine Diamond Dogs, and Zebra had also joined the program, but their patron races were still not yet official sponsors of the large, and swiftly growing program.
Since its inception, the JRSF had been the Accord species' first and best line of defense against threats to peace on the Earth-side of the Barrier. There had even been talk of making the JRSF presence on the Equestrian side of the barrier more official.
JRSF Ponies and Gryphons had long-since been working to guard HAP shipments and facilities in Equestria. The Human Archive Project was a shining example of Equine altruism; A vast organization dedicated to saving the sum total of Human art and knowledge in a format that could be carried across the Barrier.
Hutch perused the DaTab once more, and sighed. The Conversion incentive was a well-conceived idea, but the addition of a moving tax for those who weren't opting in felt forced. The General's instincts told him there would be political hell to pay for the measure.
His musings were sharply interrupted by a rat-a-tat-tat on the glass sliding door that separated his office from the main war-room of Fort Hamilton. The New York facility now exclusively belonged to the JRSF, though admittedly for only a short time more.
"Come."
The door slid aside, and Hutch glanced up to see a tall, fierce looking female Gryphon. Seyal was one of the main Gryphic representatives on the JRSF's leading council. She beckoned with one crooked talon, "You might want to see this."
Hutch grunted and rose, "Is this going to be bad news?"
Seyal smirked, the devil-may-care twist on her beak tinged with a faint trace of concern, "You didn't have any evening plans... Right?"
"Oh. Wonderful." The words came out as an entirely flat monotone. Hutch stepped through the portal to behold a large group of assorted officers from multiple species standing before the main holo-screen of the war room.
The space was ovoid, arching, open, and gleaming with displays, chrome, polished plastic, and thin self-cleaning military carpeting, all caught in the evening light tones washing in through the huge quarter-dome window that occupied one end of the room.
The giant display was tuned to the NorthAm News Network, and the in-studio reporter seemed to be nearing the end of his monologue,
"...scene here in New York continues to be one of muted chaos, as Earthgov struggles with the logistical impossibility of preparing to evacuate one of the largest cities on the globe, by the dreaded end-of-March deadline. As everyone seems well aware; April showers will no longer fall on the Big Apple, whose land it is estimated will begin falling to the Barrier in a matter of weeks, and will be entirely consumed by May. Earthgov has been attempting to ensure that there are no casualties as a result of the first major landfall of the Barrier in a populous area, but the results of these efforts are startlingly mixed. For more on that, we're going live to Vancouver... Ted?"
Despite the fact that it was three hours earlier in Western Canada, the lack of Equestrian sunlight made the next image dimmer than the New York studio had been. A reporter, clad in buttoned up pea coat, was standing before a snow-dusted steel and glass building that was still partially under construction.
Sprawling out to either side were lawns of synthetic plastic grass, stone paths, and incomplete VTOL pads.
"Thanks Jim. I'm being told that a special emergency session of the Council has just been concluded. We'll have the pertinent footage for our viewers shortly, but I can certainly tell you right now; There is going to be a shake-up in the halls of power. It's not often you see a Councilor ousted before the end of their twenty-five year term, but given that this is an election year, it seems likely that the majority of the sponsors who backed the new moving tax on New Yorkers, will be facing an end to their political career. We're about to find out."
Hutch shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the officers around him. Their expressions ranged from concern to apathy. Some knew the significance of what was about to come to light, others were less engaged, mostly Equestrians who did not yet grasp Earth politics.
Hutch shifted his gaze back to the holoscreen in-time to catch a view of the new Council chambers as recently recorded footage of the Speaker For All, addressing the council, began to roll.
The man's vaguely Australian accent carried and rebounded through the large, domed, minimalist-construction chamber, giving it an air of finality even across the airwaves, "By a majority vote, of one hundred and fifty two, to seventy one, this Council has approved the measure to impeach and convict the following members. Councilor Emile Vastris of the Socialist party. Councilor Andrea Miyagi of the Agricultural Sciences party. Councilor Lenys Vernya, of the Socialist party. Councilor Arno Loskys of the Transcendentalist Party. Councilor Matthas Korvan, of the Biotechnological Combined Party. The Council has voted. We are all in accord."
Hutch stiffened at the final name and let out a hiss of surprise. Korvan had been a thorn in the side of the Option Gamma program early on, and the General had emotions toward the man that were more easily described as hatred than distaste. But Korvan had always been a strong supporter of the Bureaus themselves, even if it was generally a politically motivated attitude.
The General mentally reviewed the list of names again, as the Council descended into confusion and anger on-screen, and he noted with grim concern that most of the dismissed Councilors were from parties that had a stake in the Bureaus or the JRSF, and the rest, with the exception of Vastris, were some of the most Bureau-supportive members of their neutral parties.
Hutch was not an especially good hand at politics, he preferred the Gryphic view of candor first, followed by pragmatism, but even he could grasp the implication. In an election cycle where the Bureaus' PR was at a serious low-point, the last thing anyone needed was to see five major party heads, from Bureau supporting corners of the Council, dismissed dishonorably.
Hutch growled to himself. He was willing to bet dollars to bits that Korvan had been the one responsible for persuading the others to go astray and sign the tax initiative on with the other bills. Now the initiative would surely be stricken down, *and* the Bureau had lost critical support. To cap it all off, the initiative would add weight to the Equestrian opposition parties at a critical moment of political upheaval in an election cycle.
Hutch flicked a small holographic toggle, and the screen vanished. The action swiftly gained him the attention of everyone in the room. He inhaled and shook his head, "You see that, people? That is the kind of royal FUBAR we can't afford right now."
He stride around the table and gestured out at the barrier, where the first Equestrian stars were beginning to appear. The shimmering wall was still a few miles out to sea, but it was getting closer with each passing week.
"*That* is going to wreak merry HELL on this city when it arrives, and it is going to turn into a major emotional, popular opinion, and political shit-storm when it starts chewing this place up. How people react is still in-play, and if they react badly then it's going to damage the Bureaus irreparably."
Hutch closed his eyes and held up his hands, "Now I can not believe I am saying this, because I swore I'd never get into this damned political nonsense... But I want you all to have an ear to the ground on this. A slip up in the JRSF is *just* what the anti-parties need to spread their foul-mouthed 'Celesthulu' rhetoric to the public, and I for one refuse to let their cancerous bullshit infect the populace at large. Keep it *together* people."
As the officers nodded and dispersed, murmuring amongst themselves, Hutch turned back to the window to watch the moonrise.
He mumbled the rest of his sentence to himself, "We have to. Or we are all going to to go to hell in a handbasket before anyone realizes the Devil's got us."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Third Month, Eight Day, Celestial Calendar
Chrysalis didn't like Converts. There was a peculiar tang in their aura... A strength of buried fury that upset the flavor balance of their emotions. She preferred Native Equestrian Ponies; Most often timid and kind, they produced a sweetness that was just short of sickening, and absolutely divine.
The Queen sighed as she stepped calmly over the half-dead body of the shivering Convert. The repeated feedings had begun to take their toll. Soon he would be depleted. Good only for the emotions of pain his death would produce in other prisoners.
As she passed the guards Chrysalis licked her chitinous black lips and shook her head slightly. She reflected that she couldn't complain; After her defeat at the hooves of the insufferable love-sick pink Alicorn, and her doting moronic mate, her Hives had fallen into famine and disarray.
Contact with her 'benefactors' on Earth allowed her a steady, if somewhat constrained, stream of prisoners from their paramilitary operations. While most were Converts, this caused them to differ from Natives in flavor only. They still fed the Hive well enough.
All the Human traitors asked in return was a peculiar byproduct of the excretions the chitin of her drones produced every molting cycle. She had some idea of what they did with it; It had a similar use in banned and mostly forgotten dark potions for the temporary changing of form in other creatures.
Only, Humans didn't use magic. They had a tantalizingly advanced technology, which was part of the motivation for liaising with them... While they remained useful.
As she ruminated on the status of her relationship with the Human 'terrorists' known as the HLF, Chrysalis quietly strode the rock corridors of the central Hive. She was over-Queen of the Changelings, and thus many Hives and hive Queens reported to her, but she had her own special Drones, and she even cared for them in her own peculiar way.
The corridors were mostly undecorated in the section she traversed; Built swiftly and in utilitarian fashion out of a pressing need for space to handle refugees from recent Gryphon offensives. The hated avians had begun to sense coming conflict, and had, in their usual modus operandi, pushed back against past incursions over their borders to establish pre-emptive cordons, reclaiming stadia of land that had been intended for the founding of two new Hives to handle overpopulation.
The assaults had been incredibly swift and brutal, but the irony was that there were just enough survivors each time to make their bedraggled return to the Empire an added burden on top of the loss in drone-power the twin slaughters had ended with. She privately suspected the Gryphons had planned it that way all along. They were no strangers to dirty tactics.
Chrysalis passed through the antechamber to her throne room; A massive cavern that was as old as Equestria itself. Over the millennia the rocks and crystals had been shaped and carved and inlaid until they had finally ended in a bizarre, ephemerally beautiful tangle of patterns and designs that repeated back on themselves in mind boggling ways.
The Room was filled to bursting with refugee Drones, huddled in groups on the cold stone under burlap scraps of cloth.
As she passed, the Queen could not help but share a tiny bit of the energy she had acquired from her recently concluded feed. She not only pitied the Drones, but she needed them ready for work. And battle.
At the end of the central cavern stood a pair of immense and intricately carved doors, fashioned from pure deep-rock obsidian that had itself formed in the fires of lava lakes miles below.
The Drones on guard pushed the giant portals inward, the immense slabs moving with utter silence and incredible ease on their frictionless, magic-infused hinges.
The throne room was as old as the central cavern, and just as ornately carved. It was shaped vaguely like an arrowhead, as if those within were standing inside the upper half of a giant spear tip.
At the termination of the room, the tip, sat the Throne itself. It was fashioned from a metal the like of which could be found nowhere else. Whenever Chrysalis sat upon it, small lights, akin to mage lights but in no way magical, lit within the grooves and protrusions of its dark structure. It seemed to almost come alive with an infrasonic thrum.
The Throne exhibited the behavior, as usual, when she ensconced her black chitinous flank within it. She sighed, steeling herself for the usual bevy of bad reports and logistics nightmares that accompanied her work.
But the routine was not to be.
A female Drone scampered forward, green eyes glittering with excitement. She knelt, and waited for Chrysalis' word.
"Arise. What news?" Chrysalis tinged the words with just the right mixture of candor, abruptness, and reassurance.
The Drone twitched her dragonfly-like wings nervously, and spoke in a hushed tone, "Majesty. They found her."
After a long pause, in-spite of herself, a grin split Chrysalis' muzzle. She cackled in a low, thrumming tone, "Good. Very good. Prepare infiltrators. We shall makes plans to return her to the Hive. At once."
Chrysalis leaned back into her throne and murmured with satisfaction, "I shall broker no resistance. Her knowledge shall be ours... Her biological distinctiveness."
Darkness. Not the familiar, comforting, blanket-like darkness of a starlit sky with its brilliant pinpricks offering comforting counterpoint to the light of a waxing moon. No. Darkness as if in a cavern. Cloying. Oppressive. Dank.
Dead.
The world was dead. She had killed it. This hadn't been what she wanted! Her hoof inscribed a slow, melancholy circle in the gray charred dust. When had grass last grown on these fields?
She gazed up at the ruin of Canterlot. Once magnificent towers strewn across the mountainside in utter ruin. Mighty, seemingly impregnable granite and marble, shattered to dust like so much decayed cement.
"It's so... Beautiful."
She started, crabbing to the side violently and swiveling her head right so sharply she felt tendons snap.
The voice came from a paradox. Standing in stark contrast to the magnificent desolation that Equestria had become, was a Unicorn. Her deep amaranthine coat was startlingly complimented by her even deeper navy mane, which shone as if it had become an impromptu refuge to the missing stars above.
She looked down at her little Pony, and noted her strange cutie mark. Ankh. A Symbol of one of Earth's ancient cultures.
The smiling Unicorn turned to face her, eyes seeming to drill into her soul, "And we have you to thank... Don't we?"
"No..." She shook her head and took a halting step back, hoof clanging against something sharp and metallic. She glanced down, then bent her muzzle closer. The golden hoof guard, bent, twisted, and sullied by grit, seemed strangely familiar.
She noticed the inset sun symbol almost at the same time as she noticed the skeleton, and the rest of the buried regalia. Two wings. Four hooves. A Horn. A familiar brace-plate set with a fiery Amethyst.
"NO!"
The Unicorn smiled, her eyes seeming to light from behind with a preternatural red glow, "Oh *yes* Princess. If only your sister could see you now. *You* made this all possible."
"AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!"
Luna's screech immediately drew the attention of her chamber guards. With a familiar whisper of smoothed metal against marble floors, the two jet-black stallions entered; Stone faced and tense, as per usual.
Luna shifted uncomfortably. She had fallen asleep at her desk. Again.
Night was supposed to be her time. Her realm. Yet an inability to sleep consistently, during day or night, had left her exhausted and stressed for nigh on a month. She had begun to fear that she would not be able to keep the signs of her physical and mental degradation from her sister much longer.
Her sister.
The images of the dream came flooding back. What had, seconds before, been a faceless nameless terror maddeningly nipping at the dim edges of memory, was now a horror so forceful, real, and present, that she felt a violent physical urge to vomit.
She sighed and gestured one still-armor-clad hoof at the guards, "Leave us. We... Allowed our frustration at our work to get the better of us. It is no cause for concern."
She maintained a stiff, calm demeanor until the silver-laced doors to her chambers had once again swung shut. Then she slumped, muzzle first, onto the desk. And she wept.
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
February 27th, Gregorian Calendar
The suited man was having what his subordinates might term an 'off day.' It had started when he lost a pack of his very rare, very expensive real cigarettes down a storm drain. It had culminated in reports of a new Gryphic military offensive making incursions into an HLF facility in Dubai.
Mr. Utah straightened his suit compulsively, and started on his fifth cigarette. The habit was expensive. Synth kelp was scarce enough that very little could be legally purchased for making non-consumables. Cigarettes, whether left-over from before the Winnowing, or made from kelp and artificial additives, were something only the hyper-rich could afford to indulge in. The current price per twelve-pack was eye-wateringly exorbitant.
Mr. Utah felt he needed the stress reduction of the nicotine-substitute however. The Gryphons' declaration of war three years back had not been small potatoes. Beyond mere involvement in the JRSF, they had begun sending full battalions of their warriors under their own banners to fight the HLF and the PER, kitted out in nightmare inducing combinations of Earthgov surplus gear, grey market purchases made with their own coin, and their own surprisingly durable and advanced native equipment.
Battalions that were increasingly outfitted with more Earth technology that not, to give them a further edge as corporations and local governments bought in to their initiatives.
The HLF had been attempting to maximize their advantages to stem the tide of recent crushing defeats. The main tools at their disposal were their 'Gray Operatives' and their Augments.
The Grays were a benefit of their relationship with the 'Equestrian Benefactor,' but recently new forms of identity checking had diminished their value somewhat.
The Augments were their first, last, and best line of defense on the ground.
Just after the Winnowing, when all the plants and animals on the planet had died off catastrophically, Humanity had made an ill-advisedly swift foray into the field of biological cybernetic augmentation.
The results had been so horrifying, thanks to the alacrity with which caution and ethics were dispatched as central concerns, that the practice had been entirely outlawed except where it was absolutely necessary to save a life.
The advent of Conversion had even seen a massive dip in the allowed permissions for legitimate augmentation; The government would not give even life saving technology to its own citizens, if there was any way in which they could accomplish the same salvation with Conversion, instead of the fear-inducing and much maligned process of bio-augmentation.
Soon enough, it seemed Earthgov might even begin to withhold standard lifesaving or life extending medical procedures. Anything to bolster their desperate bid to boost Conversion rates.
Here, Mr. Utah reflected, the HLF's more 'pragmatic' viewpoint allowed them a foothold.
Unfettered by laws, ethics, or fears, augmentation had allowed them to produce soldiers that were up to half as effective as a Gryphon on the battlefield. A massive achievement considering that a lone un-augmented but fully kitted Special Forces trained Marine was less than one-five-hundredth as lethal as any average Equestrian, let alone the predatory Gryphons.
But it wasn't enough.
Enrollment in the HLF had never been higher, but the Gryphons, and the JRSF as a whole, were starting to pull fewer punches and to adapt to existing Augments and their still-glaring flaws.
Mr. Utah watched through a five foot thick transparent aluminum wall, as a Phase-II Augment pulverized a holographic dummy.
The faceless soldier, and the gray-haired leader, were both starkly at odds with their environ; The former clad in beige armor plating, the latter in a suit. The hallway, and the combat laboratory, were mostly built of stark white biophobic plastic, lit harshly with fluorescent lumibars, and trimmed with insistent yellow warning stripes.
Mr. Utah watched, smoke wreathing his head lazily, as the soldier brought his incredible strength to bear. Phase-IIs were actually stronger and more durable overall than Gryphons, approaching the resilience and striking power of Diamond Dogs. Their main weakness lay in their catastrophic lack of speed and agility.
A Phase-II rated several hundred points lower for agility than even a Diamond Dog Troll in base-line combat scores, making it easy for the unparalleled, seemingly paranormal agility and thought-speed of the Gryphons to negate the other advantages of an Augment in equal-numbers combat.
Against Ponies and Diamond Dogs they fared somewhat better, but once a Pony was riled they often had hidden strengths that were difficult to account for. Pegasi had straight-line speed approaching that of military aircraft. Unicorn magic was damnably unpredictable. Earth Ponies... Well... Their 'buck' could hit with enough force to shatter even a teryllium/carbon-alloy chest plate.
In the test chamber, the hologram finally got the better of the training soldier, penetrating the weak neck plating of his suit with a simulated ethereal sword.
Mr. Utah sighed in mild exasperation, and took a long pull on his cigarette.
"Do you see the potential?"
The voice came from behind. Mr. Utah recognized it and acknowledged with a slight nod, "Potential, yes. Bringing it out, however, seems... Elusive."
The newcomer, an older man in a white lab coat that matched the surroundings perfectly, stepped forward to stand beside his suited compatriot, "Mr. Utah."
"Doctor Omaha."
The men shared a 'Section' in the HLF Cabinet. Each section had a unique purpose, based upon where its tenets were drawn from. Each section also shared a subset of related World War II based codenames.
Mr. Utah and Dr. Omaha hailed from Normandy section. As such they were both associated with large corporations in some way. Mr. Utah held a high level corporate position, Dr. Omaha on the other hand was a chief scientist for a large, and growing biomedical firm.
During the incident with Gryphonization several years prior, the JRSF had raided and subsequently dismantled one of the world's largest biomedical firms due to its sub rosa involvement with the PER. The action had been a boon to the HLF, since it not only crippled the PER's Ponification Serum, or 'Potion,' production capabilities for a time, but it also brought startlingly large amounts of new business to Dr. Omaha's company.
The money and the connections were both invaluable to the HLF.
"I presume I was called here to see more than a mere demonstration of Phase-II's failings," Mr. Utah's tone made it clear that the sentence was neither threat, nor question, but simple and firm expectation.
The stone-faced scientists nodded once, with conviction. As he spoke a wiry, tall, armor clad figure stepped into the combat chamber, "You were called here because within the month, Phase-II will be obsolete."
As he watched a very different set of events unfold in the test area, Mr. Utah took another, much more satisfied puff on his cigarette. The light from simulated weapons played menacingly on the creases of his face, accented by the smoke.
He smiled. A twisted expression of mildly repressed glee for the macabre that would have put a shark to shame.
"Tell me more."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 1st, Gregorian Calendar
Commander Aston liked train stations. The thrum of high powered magnets, footsteps, and thousands of voices, made her feel connected to the world in a meaningful and almost relaxing fashion.
It helped that, no matter how advanced they became, trains never seemed to lose their romantic appeal. Not even maglevs.
"Stealing a breather?"
Aston spared only a short glance over her shoulder, before smirking and returning her gaze to the crowds on the platform, "Stealing? No no *this* is collecting *interest* on the month of sleep we're about to lose."
The owner of the querying voice, Hutch, slumped wearily onto the bench beside her, "In all fairness, the hard part is only just starting for you. I've already spent the last two weeks losing plenty of shut-eye over the fallout this is generating."
Aston sighed deeply and rubbed at her eyes, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, "It's like a nightmare. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt badly enough to need an ice pack."
She stared as one of the trains began to move, only the slightest of hums accompanying the mammoth electromagnetic forces that gave it motive power.
"Twenty million people. How are we supposed to move twenty *million* people in a month? How did it even come to this?"
Hutch leaned back into the ergonomic plastic of the bench, crossed his arms, and gazed at the arching buttresses that supported the all-plexiglass ceiling, seventy feet above, "Well... For all our drive and ingenuity we are a damnably stubborn lot. I think people try to forget about this mess because they don't want the loss of this city to become real. If it becomes real, then the *whole* mess is real, and no one can afford to put things off indefinitely anymore."
Aston smiled wanly, and stared off into the middle-distance, "For a race of pioneers and inventors, we certainly like to put things off."
Hutch raised an eyebrow, "Well after a few years in this job, I can confidently say that I've learned some of the commonalities and differences of the races. Let me tell you; Doesn't matter the size, disposition, drive to improve, or lack thereof... We all get sentimental about certain things. Even the Diamond Dogs."
The pair sat in silence for five minutes, enjoying each others' company, and watching the bustle on the platforms before them.
Their reverie was abruptly put to an end by the public address system, "Evacuation Train twelve now departing platform two. All citizens in Evacuation Group Alpha-77, please report to platform eight for boarding of trains thirteen and fourteen."
As the PA system followed up by chiming the hour, Aston rose, and stretched, groaning, "Well. I guess it's crunch time again."
As Hutch and Aston separated to their posts, the sky above was split by the whine of a dozen turbine engines. VTOLs and transport airships began to depart the city in a seemingly never-ending stream, filling the skies to the point that it was impossible to find an entirely clear patch of the expanse.
Over the course of a few hours every maglev line, and major roadway, was repurposed to act as an outbound artery. Only smaller rip-tracks, maintenance routes, and two-lane roads were allowed to handle specially permitted ingress traffic.
Slowly but steadily, gaining momentum like the monstrous wheeled freight trains of old, the outflow of citizens began to gain traction.
Ships departed the Navy-secured southern corridors of the harbor, bound for the safer shores of the Carolinas. Equestrian newfoal transports sailed directly into and out of the port, for the first time.
Everywhere throughout the city, and its far flung boroughs, signs trumpeted the message. Internet terminals replaced their daily login message. The Wall Street Ticker was pre-empted. Times Square was, for once, without corporate advertisements.
Even the digital signage attached to trains and other public transport displayed the messages.
"Hazard Zone Warning!"
"Proceed To Evacuation Points."
"Do *You* Have an Evacuation Plan?"
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I do like Hutch's way with words... Nice intro to the setting; I don't think Option Gamma is required reading yet, but let's see how well you intro the characters in later chapters.
Halo music. All I can say is: Yes. All of my yes.
BTW, who did that pic?
mmmmmmmmmmm...... nah
If that actually happened then a lot of earth ponies won't be mere plebians, they can't even break a clay wall.
Just started reading this and loving it already.
So... Chrysalis is pretty much the Borg...
You know there's one thing that really confuses me at this point in the story. What the fuck is the HLF's plan for the Barrier when it comes knocking? I know if I were in charge of the Conversion Beauras, I'd only come visit Earth every once in a while to offer the many options of Conversion for any who desired it, then just go back through the Barrier. The HLF and their supporters would then be left with a dying world and their own idiocy to sit with. Like, dudes, if you're so pro human, why are you wasting your resources on this dying rock when you could be funding ships off this planet, then making profits off killing other rocks?
11046900
Without spoiling too much: If I were them I might be looking to do that, but only if I could control the entire process to deny Equestrians, and pro-Equestrian Humans their passage first. IE 'Win the planet, and then we can kill those we disagree with, and still have time leftover to put everyone to work building ships' or something of that stripe.
I might also be looking to see if I can use weird and scary science to stop or reverse the barrier, even though playing with that kind of fire is a recipe for absolutely bonkers disaster.
And of course, some of the HLF are just so fanatic that they'd rather die than convert, they just prefer we all be forced to die Human.
The behaviour of fascists and supremacists is not always logical, but it is almost always self-serving even at the expense of common sense.
Just look at Climate Change in our own world. What the fuck are the right wingers' plans worldwide for sea level rise, temperature change, and extreme weather as they come knocking? That's the HLF in a nutshell.