Chapter 9
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 13th, Gregorian Calendar
When Neyla arrived in the armory, most of her team had already begun to sift through their gear, and prepare for the day.
To her surprise, the Gryphoness had found herself placed in charge of a full detachment. Her unit, along with three others much like it, reported to Seyal by way of General Sorven. The more she contemplated the arrangement, the more clever she realized the concept was.
Gryphons were the species best suited to point, and command roles in a fire team, but they also had the distinct disadvantage of being highly independent. Gryphons would rarely conscien reporting to a superior of another species.
Most Gryphons saw even the highest ranking members of other races as equals, at best.
The average well-adjusted Human, on the other claw, could be trained to follow almost anyone all things being equal. But by the same token homo sapiens felt very uncomfortable if the interests of their species, social class, gender, genetic subset, and even geopolitical heritage, were not being served at all times.
Neyla could grasp the concept of general species pride quite well, but in total she was often appalled.
Appalled by not only the number, and depth of the divisions Humanity placed on itself *within* its species, but even more so by the way Humans behaved when such petty distinctions were not elevated to high import and treated as golden rules.
She sometimes found it hard to believe, but according to the history files she had read it had once been far worse, to the point that some people were brutalized for no other reason than minor external manifestations of the sequencing of their genetic code.
While most Humans seemed to think the majority of those issues had died with the Winnowing, Neyla had quickly come to realize that the fresh external perspectives of Equestrian species were unearthing the still-rotting dregs of classism, racism, and culture-phobia, on *both* sides of the barrier; Dragging their more subtle, but no less insidious, modern practices into the light.
Often kicking and screaming.
Somehow, in spite of such issues and more besides, the JRSF had, by necessity, become masterful at serving the needs of all its species, petty and otherwise, to keep a smooth command structure in place.
Sorven's liaison position allowed the baser members of Humanity to feel as if its interests were being given special treatment, while Seyal's position at the top of the command chain afforded the JRSF a dual advantage. Not only could they put Gryphons in command of the protection detail fire-teams, but the other parties with vested interests could rest assured that Seyal's immutable moral safeguards would prevent her from being, as the Human phrase went, 'flipped.'
Neyla sighed, squared her shoulders, and padded quietly into the large oblong room. Her team consisted of herself, Tirinel, and a dozen other members. The remainder of the team was split; Half humans, another Dragon, another Gryphon, and the remaining one-third comprised of Ponies, the latter serving spotter, technician, and medical roles.
Every member of the unit had veteran combat status, having been part of a military detachment of some sort for a minimum of three years. All had seen heavy action a minimum of twice.
The blue and tan Gryphon paused at the mouth of the room, and stared down its length. It was shaped vaguely like a trapezoidal cross-section, with thick titanium supports every few feet. Between each set of supports was a pair of lockers containing armor and weapons for a Human, Pony, or Gryphon. At the end of the bay, opposite the entrance, were two considerably larger areas for the Dragons.
Neyla examined each member of her team in turn. While she was used to seeing Human warriors, the Ponies took her somewhat by surprise. They were clearly still governed in some capacity by their passivity, but there was also a definite hardened aspect to them.
It shone in their eyes; A firm resolve instilled by years of easing into combat roles. They were not so ideally suited to the role of an all-out fighter as even a Human could be, though not for lack of physical prowess, but they were also far less restricted from it than the average Equine.
They could and would, Neyla realized, take a life if necessary.
To many in the Equestrian Nation that would be distasteful. To the Gryphoness, it was reassuring. Beyond merely the scope of her assignment, it reassured her that perhaps Ponies *could* be taught, as a species, to be ready to stand up and fight when their lives and loved ones were threatened.
She knew that neither she, nor anyone else, could expect them to become warriors like Gryphons or Dragons, or even Humans. But perhaps they could avoid becoming *entirely* career pacifists.
Neyla had seen the colorful Equinids defuse potentially bad situations enough times to appreciate their skills with diplomacy. Something her own kind lacked sorely. But she was also old and wise enough to know the difference between diplomatic kindness, even empathy, and outright unconscionable passivity.
The Gryphon shook herself, and strode quickly to her locker. Lockermates were intended to be partners, but Neyla was in charge of the entire unit. Consequently the locker beside her own, at the head of the line, was reserved for Sorven's combat gear, incase the General was needed in the field.
While Sorven's tasks for the day would have her practically bolted to her desk, she had nevertheless made the trip down to the armory to give her new gear a once-over, and synchronize action items with the unit's schedule.
The General was staring down the inside of a RAC-7 breech, having just inserted an energy cell into the butt. She snapped the weapon shut, cycled the power, and glanced up at Neyla, "You're early."
Neyla dipped her head and smirked, "Surprise is the best advantage."
She pressed one claw to the pad beside her locker. The two doors immediately irised open with the confirmation of her DNA, to reveal her gear, sequestered in a series of stacked compartments.
The weapons were in precisely the same condition they had been when she inspected them on the Northolt tarmac, minus the magnetic javelins. The armor, however, was clearly something new.
Neyla removed the helmet, and flipped it over in her claws, before glancing over at Sorven, "We've been issued new gear?"
The General grinned, "I thought you might find that interesting. They took a lot of the feedback from you folks in the field, and did some serious refactoring. It's one thing to design a suit of armor to fit something, it's another thing entirely to design a suit based off experience and hard data."
The Gryphon flipped the helmet over, and knocked on it with a claw. The surface was a dull shade of gray with a carbon composite-like texture, but in certain lights the telltale hexagonal pattern of an energy diffusion matrix was visible sandwiched somewhere between the layers of alloy.
The matrix, as Neyla understood it, allowed for dispersion of some kinetic force, and a great deal of energy from laser and particle weapons. Combined with the anti-ballistic gel layers, ablative outer skin, and tough teryllium/carbon alloy plates in between, it was the best stopping power short of a magic shield.
Neyla brought the helmet to rest on her head, and rolled her shoulders, "Good fit! I'm impressed."
Sorven gestured to the remainder of the armor, its crimson JRSF stripe noticeably duller and low-visibility than the previous version Neyla had worn, "You haven't even begun to see 'impressed.' "
The Gryphoness hefted one of the foreleg gauntlets. At a slight, but intentional flick, a pair of wicked looking double edged serrated blades emerged from the sides of the plating. Neyla raised an eyebrow.
The General chuckled, "You'll have time for a test flight later I expect, but they tell me whatever effort and time you have to spend acclimating... It'll be well worth it."
Neyla set the gauntlet back on the rack, and pulled off her helmet. Her head crest momentarily flared in response to the static built up between the surface and her feathers. Sorven chuckled.
The Gryphoness glared, and the feathers gradually receded of their own accord. She turned to stare down the length of the bay once more. Seeing that most of her troops were in the finishing stages of their preparations, she expelled a shrill whistle from her beak.
Once all heads had turned to face her, she began, "Now that you're all aware of your new gear, and you have your partners, we're going to do some qualifying runs to you can get acclimated to both. After that, starting tonight and running through tomorrow we will have strategy meetings. Once those are concluded, we split. Half of us are canvassing this city, block by block, and nipping problem spots in the bud. The other half are going to turn this facility into the most secure place on the planet."
Neyla paused, and looked to each member of the squad in turn, "Questions?" No one spoke.
She nodded once, "Good! Let's move."
As the various creatures began filing out, pair by pair, Sorven shot Neyla a genuine smile of respect, "You're a natural at this."
Neyla snorted as she began to heft her own gear into place, "I hate it. I live as a sentinel for a reason. I like my independence. Leadership is the antithesis of independence."
Sorven snorted, "You have a good bit to learn yet if you really believe that. Want to know a little secret? No one is *truly* independent, and you wouldn't *want* to be even if you could. Independence is morbidly lonely."
With her parting words, the General excused herself from the armory, leaving Neyla to ponder as she snapped each piece of her armor into place.
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Fourteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
"How come you hardly ever write?" Skye offered a curious glance to accompany her query, tilting her head as she walked down the hallway at the head of the group.
Fyrenn scowled, "We don't exactly get a lot of chances to stop by a post office you know."
Skye nodded morosely, "Yeah... I guess you guys don't see the nice side of civilization as much these days..." she glanced up at Fyrenn and smirked, "Judging by the smell anyways."
Kephic snorted, and took a playful swat at the Unicorn, which she gracefully dodged, pirouetting to face backwards and sticking out her tongue.
Fyrenn chuckled, as his monochromatic sibling returned the childish gesture in kind. Varan put an abrupt end to the antics, before Fyrenn could join in and turn the situation into a free-for-all, "As much as I respect your talent, Skye," he shifted his gaze briefly to Fyrenn, "And your judgement, brother, I still do not see how the arithmetical skills of a single Unicorn, even a prodigy, will help us crack a computer-generated code."
Skye rolled her eyes, "Have a little faith will ya? Nobody said anything about me going it alone. I've been pretty busy with my new 'project' while you guys have been tearing up the frozen north."
The group moved on in silence for several more moments. Sildinar and Luna had left together as soon as brief greetings had been exchanged all around. They had been quietly whispering about the best troop formations for securing a convoy, and how to avoid attention by marching on less-traveled routes.
Fyrenn hadn't given the conversation much thought. He had more immediate concerns.
Finally, the group reached the end of the hall. The opposing wall was gilded with ornate filigree, reminiscent of a tall Victorian gate. The center of the decorative formation contained a brass door-like structure. Skye stepped up to the wall, and pressed a hoof against a small innocuous button.
The doors snapped open, to reveal a small rectangular box-like room. Kephic snorted, grinning, "I'll be... An elevator."
Varan sighed, "Joy."
After a small amount of squeezing and shuffling, it turned out that there was indeed enough room in the elevator car for the entire group. Barely.
Skye was the last one in, by necessity, in order to allow her access to the controls on the front right wall. She smiled, "Please, keep your claws, wings, and paws inside the car at all times, and no flash photography."
She smacked her hoof against one of the buttons, and pulled away to ensure her muzzle was a safe distance from the doors, "Going... Down."
The brass portals snapped shut, and the vehicle began to descend rapidly, and uncomfortably, with the loud whirr, hiss, and click of gears and steam-driven machinery. After several quiet moments passed, Varan spoke up, "We must already have passed beyond the lowest levels of the archives."
Skye tilted her head, "Wellllll... The lowest *public* levels."
After another minute of silence, the elevator gradually ground to a halt, and the doors opened once more onto a vaulted hallway.
As Fyrenn extricated himself from the car, and stretched his wings reflexively, he swept his gaze over the passage. Much of it appeared to be solid granite, as if the space had been hewn directly through the mountain. It was all artfully trimmed and polished, but it lacked seams.
Augmenting the natural granite were swooping pillars of marble, trimmed in the traditional Canterlot gold and silver. The entire construction was easily thirty feet tall, and twenty feet wide. Fyrenn glanced down the length of the space, judging it to be nearly thirty yards. At the opposite end of the passage stood a pair of thick marble doors, flanked by a pair of Luna's Night Guards.
Skye set off down the corridor, leading once more, "This way please. And hold all questions 'till the end of the tour."
As they approached the doors, Fyrenn took a moment to examine the Night Guards more closely. One was much like all the others the Gryphon had seen before; Coat dyed ashen gray, mane colored a deep shade of amaranthine. Outfitted in armor sheathed in pure polished obsidian, and trimmed with silver, the imposing image was completed by magically disguised wings taking the form of the leathery appendages commonly associated with bats.
The other guard was armored and colored identically, but conspicuously lacked wings. Instead, his Unicorn horn bore an obsidian and silver ornament, complemented by a pair of vicious looking minotaur horns that seemed to be growing out of his head, and poking through slits in his helmet.
If the fierce appendages were anything like the Night Guards' traditional bat wings, they were a form of magical disguise, placed on the troops to give them a more distinctive and intimidating appearance.
When the group reached the doors, the Unicorn guard held out a hoof, then nodded towards Skye, "Step aside please."
She rolled her eyes, but did as she was asked. The Guard looked her over, as if examining a gem for flaws, then his horn flared to life. The subtly magenta field swept over Skye from nose to tail., then back again, before dissipating. The Guard nodded once abruptly, "You're clear. Welcome to the archive vault."
The Pegasus guard pressed a hoof against the doors, and the swung open noiselessly. As the group passed through, Fyrenn cocked his head and fixed Skye with a questioning gaze, "What was *that* all about?"
The Unicorn snorted, "We had a break-in a few months back. A Changeling. Now they have to test everyone who goes in, or out. You guys get a free pass because they still can't copy Gryphons. Mercifully."
Kephic raised an eyebrow, "Why would a Changeling want to break into the Archives?"
Skye chuckled, "You mean *besides* all the unholy and awesome spells of power in the secure wings? Apparently the imposter was under the impression that we might be storing Human military secrets down here."
Kephic shook his head, "Wrong archives. Last I heard Celestia wanted no part of anything to do with Humanity's technologies of violence. We've been taking charge of anything military related and storing it in the capital library."
Varan nodded, "Doubtless we will make better use of it in any case."
All conversation came to an abrupt end as the group reached the end of the corridor. The passage opened out onto a vast chamber; the sight elicited a whistle of awe from Fyrenn, "That... Is a lot of crates."
Spread out before the group was an enormous domed chamber. Like the passages, it was cut directly from the rock of the mountain. The space was, in the red Gryphon's estimate, at least a thousand yards long, more than half-again as wide, and nearly sixteen stories tall.
The space was filled to bursting with immense floor-to-ceiling shelving structures. The structures themselves were packed to the brim with wooden crates.
Skye shrugged nonchalantly, "The Human Archiving project produces a lot of... Stuff. This is receiving; It waits here until it's tagged, and moved to its home somewhere in the new Human wings of the Archives."
She set off down the rows of boxed documents, paintings, and statues, "C'mon!"
Varan raised an eyebrow, "Is it safe to assume you did not bring us all the way down to these caverns simply to look at crates of books?"
Fyrenn interjected, "It's safe to assume. Don't you worry."
Skye led the group swiftly passed the stacks of duplicated Human art, history, and culture, to another large door on the far side of the cavern.
The aperture was clearly sealed with a series of heavy, intricate steel locks. The center of the circular portal contained a small hole, as if for a key. Skye bent over, and inserted her horn, which flared briefly as her unique magical signature triggered the wards on the door. A moment later, she withdrew her head, and the locks began to clank open, one by one.
As they waited for the door to open, Skye gestured to the rock around them, "Apparently this place has been here since the dawn of time, or something. Before the castle and city even existed, a bunch of offshoot xenophobe Unicorns lived down here. Real nice bunch." The sarcasm in her words was painfully evident.
At last, the door was clear of its locks. The immense steel disc rolled to the side, revealing a sight that put the storage caverns to shame.
The roof of the new chamber was shorter, only eight stories high. But it seemed to go on for nigh on a four miles in every direction. By far the most eye catching feature, however, was not the cavern but the crystals that filled it.
Row upon row of glittering translucent hard-edged stones, grown over centuries by some inscrutable process of geological change, and ambient magic.
While much of the crop of crystals was natural, and unspoiled, a path had been cut from the entryway to the center of the chamber. Along all the sides of the path, the towering geological formations had been cut into symmetrical pillars, and surrounded with an organized chaos of wires and fittings.
Skye cracked a grin that seemed to raise the light level in the entire chamber, "Behold; My new project."
Fyrenn chuckled, "It's even more impressive than your letters led me to expect."
The Unicorn nodded, as she led the way towards the center of the room, "We've expanded it twice since our last exchange. We're going to have to do the same thing three more times this year alone if we ever hope to accommodate all the incoming data."
As the rest of the group stared in confusion, Fyrenn gestured to the natural crystals, "And... What? You mine some of them into smaller gems to use for the transfer?"
Skye nodded, "Got it in one, feathers. The transfer rate isn't ideal, but it works. We take what we can get."
Kephic finally lost all semblance of patience, "Would someone mind telling me how this is going to help with our code-breaking problem?"
As the group reached the platform in the center of the room, the answer became clear almost as Skye voiced it, "You guys are standing *inside* the very first Thaumatic Computer."
The speckled Gryphon grinned wryly, "So that's what this is all about. I should've known."
Fyrenn shrugged, resettling his wings in the same motion, "I knew, but I was asked to keep it a secret for now. Apparently this is the single highest value potential target for PER sympathizers in Equestria. They are half way to saving the internet, after all."
Skye hummed absently, "Mmm... More like a little over a third of the way, but we're getting there on-schedule all the same."
She ascended a small flight of stairs, followed by the Gryphons, arriving on the central platform itself.
Much of the space was given over to eerily glowing thaumatic machinery; Tubes imbued with an ethereal light, twisted coils of copper wire that arced from time to time with tiny bolts of electricity, and bank after bank of mechanical switches and dials made from brass and gold.
The center of the platform was a clear space, dominated by a horseshoe shaped oak desk. On the desk sat something akin to a keyboard, with each key representing either a letter in common or a function of some sort. Each button was approximately the size of a hoof.
On an adjustable silver arm sat a large monitor-like protrusion of clear crystal in a fitting of bronze.
Beside the keyboard Fyrenn noted a series of geometrically shaped, gold-lined slots, some of which were playing host to Crystals.
Skye hopped onto a stool positioned before the terminal, and jammed her hoof into a large silver button beside the keyboard.
With a low, ominous thrum, the crystals immediately surrounding the platform began to glow, ever so slightly. Fyrenn's ears twitched as he detected the sound of arcing current, and shifting gears in some of the upright machinery.
The display crystal abruptly went from transparent, to a shade of black, and a series of common text lines began to spell out swiftly in familiar terminal-green.
As Skye began rapidly tapping away at the keyboard with her hooves, Fyrenn stared over her shoulder, cocking his head in confusion, ears perked, "You're not initializing all the available crystal arrays?"
The Unicorn's eyes widened, "Hoho... Noooo buddy. If we did *that* this place would go up like a nuclear firework display, and us with it."
Varan's head feathers puffed out in mild surprise, "You mean to say you can not make use of its full potential?"
Skye shook her head as she input several commands to initialize an array of crystals as random access memory, "The computer depends on both magic and electricity. Problem is, electricity does *not* play well with magic, especially not ambient magic; And Equestria is charged to busting with the stuff. We have decent insulators now, thanks to some hotshot Unicorn out of Ponyville, but they're not advanced enough yet for us to boot the whole lattice down here at once. Only about a quarter of it at any one time. We expect to bring that number up in future."
The Unicorn spun her stool around, and smiled, "So where's this supposedly computer-generated code?"
Varan pulled the sheets from his pack, and proffered them to Skye. She quickly grasped the sheafs in her magic field, and levitated them over to the desk, spreading them out sequentially, "Oook; So long story short, I have to enter these as files first, and that's going to take about forty five minutes at my typing speed. Then I have to spend some quality time running the initial blocks against various cipher programs until I find a lead."
Kephic sighed, "And *that* will take...? A day? Two?"
Skye tilted one ear, as if listening to a voice inside her own head, "Mmm... Two... Three hours at most."
Fyrenn smiled, and nudged his speckled brother with a wing, "Have a little faith. We might just make something out of this mess yet."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 13th, Gregorian Calendar
As he had expected, Hutch found Taranis and Klarien in one of Fort Hamilton's larger armor bays. The compartment had originally been a vehicle repair facility, but had been repurposed to suit Dragons in light of their unusual size.
The General paused to watch in fascination, as Klarien attached his helmet. As the magnetic clamps engaged with the panels already secured to the reptile's neck, the plating across the entire upper assembly flattened from its maintenance position, to its combat position.
One by one, the dull menacing segments of alloy hissed and clicked into place, wreathing the Dragon's already durable verdant scales in a secondary layer of anti-projectile defense.
Hutch turned to size up Taranis, who was already completely geared-up, and seemed intent on checking every last component of his wrist-mounted guns.
JRSF accoutrement lent the reptiles a fearsome aspect beyond the intense natural terror they exuded. The plating of standard urban warfare suits covered all the weakest spots in their scale sheathe, as well as the areas closest to their vital organs, and the most vulnerable joints.
The glowing slits at various junctures of the armor were a subtle indicator of the enormous capacitors hidden within the paneling that powered the weapons, and transceivers embedded in the gauntlets and back plates respectively. One Dragon's suit could act as a small relay station for communications. Two could support an entire battalion, plus jamming for a two mile radius.
When fully armored, Hutch decided that the creatures almost looked more like some sort of whimsical, terrifying, hell-spawned vehicle than any kind of living thing.
Subtlety and flexibility were irrelevant. The marriage of Human tactical assets, and Draconic biology, was about pure force and durability alone. A post-Human, post-tank, post-gunship war machine bearing more in common with a Naval Frigate than anything else.
The General gave the pair a moment to finish their preparatory work, then cleared his throat loudly, "Ehem. Gentlemen. I see you've gotten acquainted with your gear. Today I'd like you both to run an urban combat training test. You're not bipeds in power suits anymore. You are multi-ton reptilian predators with the capacity to wipe out a city block, and that without any of the equipment. I'd rather not see an overage of collateral damage coming from you two. I need you on the front-lines ASAP, and I need you in top form."
Klarien snorted amiably, "No offense, but where do you plan to find a testing ground big and empty enough for us?"
"Almost a fifth of the city has been evacuated already, with particular emphasis on the East shore closest to the initial arrival point of the barrier. Until landfall, we have the run of the place, and a three hectare area has been drawn off specifically for urban combat training. Everything there is going to bits anyways soon enough."
Taranis lumbered over, and dipped his head down into the conversation, "What, precisely, do you expect us to do once we have finished your 'retraining' ?"
For an answer, Hutch merely tapped two keys on his DaTab, then spun the device around for both Dragons to see. A series of shaky, blurred DaTab videos from the Bureau steps played in sequence, each showing the moment of the HOB bombing from a different angle.
Paving stones flew in all directions, chips of marble impaled screaming civilians, and Klarien even noted the presence of several bodiless limbs in two shots. The green Dragon grimaced, a low rumble emanating from his chest cavity to shake the floor.
The General switched off the DaTab, "You're going to find the sons of bitches who did this. Then you're going to find out who trained and supplied them. Then you're going to *fuck them up.* Violently."
Taranis snorted; A small gesture to him, but a veritable wind gust to Hutch, "Would not a Human operative be better suited to a subtle investigation?"
The General nodded, "Yes. But I'm not lookin' for subtle. I don't want to do this quietly. I want to make a statement; Hands off the Bureaus, and stay away from the evacuation proceedings. Or else. Not much out there that can make a statement as boldly, or as visibly, as a brace of armed and angry Dragons with no-limit kill orders."
Taranis nodded slowly, "Where will we begin?"
Hutch glanced down at his DaTab, "I'll prepare you a full briefing for tomorrow morning, but suffice to say you're going to have to delve deep into the HOB, and in turn that's probably going to take you to the worst parts of the city, and eventually to even more unsavory folks."
Klarien tilted his head, and stretched his wings slightly. The fluorescent lights of the armor bay highlighted the blood vessels in the enormous flight organs, and Hutch noticed with a small start that the Green Dragon's veins looked much like the patterns of leaves.
"You think the HLF were involved in the bombing?"
Hutch shook his head, "I do not 'think,' I *know* for a fact. I also know that once we're finished with them, they would think twice about pulling a stunt like that again, if there was anything left to do the thinking. We're gonna prove to them that no matter how big they go, and how loud they yell, we're always gonna make the cost too high. Even for their 'fine' tastes."
Taranis rumbled, "And if their tastes run too 'fine' ?"
Klarien shrugged, his wings propelling a burst of his exhalations toward Hutch. The smell reminded him at once both of the plants the Ponies kept in the Bureau hydroponics bay, and the scent of coolant. Sweet, but with the distinct sickly tang of death.
"Isn't it obvious? We take them for everything they have."
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2524646
Its hard as heck to make, and even harder to safely store &/or transport.
You need to get rid of that period, laddy.
Dragon armor comes with communication relays... What's their wifi password?
You need three periods to make it a proper ellipses.
Two dragons hunting down the HLF. A green dragon and a blue dragon. Oh the fun they shall have. Can't wait to see what their breath does.
I kinda don't feel sorry for those HLF guys.
Keep up the good work!
8830243
*Ominous music plays, and somewhere a grizzled old hoof reaches down to snatch a familiar brown fedora lying on a curled whip*