Chapter 25
GMT: 14:07:12
PDT: 07:07:12
Ragnar: +01:07:12
Though Retribution had long since expended her entire payload of VLS warheads, she continued to pummel the Blue Ridge with her two mid-range deck cannons.
Since the initial barrage, the Carrier had done very little besides erupt smoke and flames, and limp several thousand feet forward on emergency power.
Then, suddenly, the ship's immense magnetohydrodynamic drives roared to life. A fantail of excited foaming spray burst from the rear, and starboard side of the nimble vessel, and it began to rapidly accelerate into a tight combat turn.
At nearly the same moment, the ship's previously silent railguns sprang to life, homing in on the Retribution's torpedo tubes, conning tower, deck guns, and steering vanes.
Though the weapons' effective rate of fire, and accuracy, were decreased by the removal of AI targeting, the close range eliminated the majority of potential gunner error.
Streams of nearly-liquid tungsten poured from the barrels of the small short-range defensive emplacements as they disgorged hundreds of rounds per second each. The fiery lances tore into Retribution mercilessly, clogging one torpedo tube, placing a twenty foot gash in the side of the conning tower, and knocking off one diving plane entirely.
The sound was so loud, it burst the ear drums of fleeing civilians as far back as ten blocks into the city. It was as if a relentless god-sized jack hammer had descended upon the harbor.
The submarine retaliated in kind, focusing its two deck guns on the Blue Ridge's bridge, in an attempt to kill the command crew. The first shots went wide as the Blue Ridge abruptly ceased its turn, slamming instead into the rear of the island, tearing a three deck by fifty foot chunk out of the superstructure.
Bodies, metal fragments, and glass sprayed everywhere behind the carrier.
The second wave of enemy shells was mostly deflected by the CIWS gun, the close range allowing it to guesstimate the normally untargetable shells' trajectory based purely on the direction the enemy's guns were pointing.
At long last, the Blue Ridge's torpedo control systems were abruptly restored. A series of menacing cylindrical protrusions erupted from hidden panels along the upper outer edge of the hull.
Without pause, or mercy, the tubes discharged a flurry of small close-range defensive torpedoes that fell outwards in a graceful arc towards the water.
Upon dipping into the sea, the six weapons arced out and around towards the Retribution, weaving and ducking to avoid the submarine's own CIWS. The HLF's defenses managed to neutralize two of the offending warheads, but the rest impacted the hull directly in four concurrent fireballs.
It became suddenly and imminently clear to both crews; The Blue Ridge was not going to go down especially easily.
GMT: 14:09:05
PDT: 07:09:05
Ragnar: +01:06:05
The impact of one reinforced armor plate against another produced a severe jolt that left Stan's back right leg feeling slightly numb.
He winced, and backed away as quickly as he could.
The Augment tried to give chase, but found himself stepping directly into the path of one of Celestia's hoofguards.
The force of the blow staggered the Alicorn backwards several steps, but also managed to shatter the soldier's protective faceplate.
Skye seized on the opportunity to launch her own assault. Nimbly flicking out a set of hidden sharp edges in her foreleg guards, she launched herself upwards with the power of her back legs, and swiped at the Augment's exposed eyes with both hidden blades.
The soldier managed to thwart half of her assault, viciously shoving one of her legs aside, causing the bones to squeal under the stress. The second blade, however, raked directly across the trooper's eyes.
As the Unicorn fell back, wincing and cradling her bruised leg, Lantry pulled himself groggily to his feet, and scooped up his pistol. As the General feverishly reloaded, doing his best to ignore the shooting pains in his ribs, Celestia pressed the attack to keep the Augment off balance.
At last, Lantry completed his task. The Alicorn fell back to avoid placing herself in the line of fire.
Lantry once again pulled back on the trigger and loosed the weapon's entire contents towards the soldier's weakened helmet.
The rounds again failed to stop the cybernetically enhanced man, but several of them flew straight and true, impacting directly through the front of the unprotected skull.
The damage produced a noticeable slowing effect in the soldier's movements. Orange bio-coolant sprayed everywhere, even coating Stan's back hooves as he got in an opportune buck to the Augment's neck.
The Pegasus paid for his actions as the Augment lashed out with his RAC's bayonet at blinding speed, striking directly on the weakest spot in the Pony's leg armor. The assault put a large cut into Stan's back right leg.
Carradan winced and grunted in pain, hobbling out of the soldier's range as quickly as he could. Having determined that the two Ponies were a considerably larger threat than he had first thought, the Augment raised his rifle, and turned it on Carradan.
Before he could pull the trigger, a series of shots rang out from across the room. As three concurrent blooms of orange and gray biomatter plumed away from the Augment's head, Lantry hobbled forward, and plunged his K-bar into the soldier's neck, severing the main control trunks that ran along the brain stem.
As the remainder of the group began arguing in animated tones, Celestia stepped to the side, and glanced down at Skye.
"You have a... Concerning, and unusual tolerance for violence young one."
Skye shrugged, "I tend to think of it as an advantage, actually. If we hadn't killed him, he would have gladly splattered us all over the back wall. If you can't raise a hoof in defense of your life, you're gonna have a hard time keeping hold of it when things get messy."
Celestia raised an eyebrow, "Did the Gryphons teach you that?"
The Unicorn glanced to the side as the other argument predictably ended in a chorus of voices, shouting down Carradan.
"In a way, your highness. But never let it be said that I didn't put in the extracurricular effort to get it right."
GMT: 14:15:14
EST: 10:15:14
Ragnar: +01:15:14
"Alert! Phoenix Contingency has been declared."
Klarien glanced up at the roof reflexively, and grinned. He turned to the panel, and placed one claw carefully on an embedded sensor, to allow a DNA sample to be taken. As the computer processed the biometric authentication, the Dragon spoke, slowly and clearly.
"Recognize that this facility is under attack, including a biological weapon assault, and a digital incursion."
"Recognized and confirmed."
"Recognize that all officers are dead, or incapacitated, except for myself, and recognize that the central AI is offline."
"Recognized and confirmed."
"Recognize that I have provided an officer's level-red authentication code, and accompanying biometric access credentials."
"Recognized and confirmed."
"Recognize and confirm that Phoenix Contingency has been declared."
The computer paused for an agonizingly long moment. The fire team shuffled awkwardly as Klarien stared expectantly at the main monitor.
At last, with an accompanying two-tone, the response came.
"Recognized and confirmed."
Klarien grinned, and gestured to the corporal, who brought the firing index chip forward, and held it out expectantly. The small shard of blueish-green etched data crystal glittered from amidst its hardened gray titanium casing.
The Dragon tapped at several keys, and continued his cryptic string of orders.
"Under operant guidelines of the EarthGov emergency code, based on all conditions that have been recognized and confirmed, I am requesting control over-ride protocol Gemini."
The computer once more descended into a prolonged silence, before responding.
"Gemini control protocol over-ride granted."
Klarien shifted one claw to a series of physical switches, and began opening the safety covers.
"Recognize Klarien, acting as interim base commander under Gemini protocol, authorization Sigma Four Seven One Break Four Four Green."
"Authorization acknowledged. Command interlock one enabled."
A loud tone sounded, and one of two empty circular icons in the corner of the main screen turned an alarming shade of amber.
"Recognize Klarien, acting as interim base arms master under Gemini protocol, Sigma Four Seven One Break Four Four Green."
"Authorization acknowledged. Command interlock two enabled. Dual authentication in place."
The loud tone sounded again, and the second circular icon filled with an amber light.
Klarien began flipping the switches in quick succession as he continued without pause.
"Open the Permissive Action Link at Defense Condition One action level."
A bevy of lights came on across the console, and the main screen went wild with changing data and indicators. A deafening triple klaxon sounded, and the room's lights dimmed.
"Defense Condition One declared. Permissive Action Link open."
The green Dragon took the firing index delicately in two claws, and moved it over an empty data port of identical shape near the center of the console.
"Prepare to receive firing index."
The computer responded with a positive tone. Klarien carefully pressed the chip into the proffered slot, applying firm pressure until the object locked completely into place.
The main screen changed abruptly, focusing in on the orbital track map, and displaying two windows of concurrent satellite telemetry.
"Firing index recognized: THOR system link established. Weapon available. Handshake protocols completed. Basic telemetry diagnostics completed. THOR standing by for permissive action link instructions."
Klarien grinned widely as he began to manipulate the controls.
"Judgement comes from above."
GMT: 14:15:25
PDT: 07:15:25
Ragnar: +01:15:25
"Go go GO!"
Shierel reached out and snatched up the last Pony in line, slinging the young colt over both shoulders like a sack of potatoes and bolting for the exit doors.
The convert was only several hours post-potion, and hadn't quite yet learned the full use of his new legs. His parents seemed to have figured out the basics, however, and seeing that their son was in safe claws, followed at a dead gallop.
Much to the Gryphoness' relief, the group she was escorting represented the next-to last batch of evacuees.
Only a few dozen more converts and staff were left, and several ConSec troopers had already passed her on their way in to usher the remaining personnel out.
As she passed through the enormous sliding doors and onto the Bureau's expansive synth-turf lawn, Shierel allowed herself to relax ever so slightly.
The lawn overlooked most of the bay area. Normally the vista was a beautiful expanse of synthetic grass, swimming pools, and modern high wealth dwellings, framed in the background by San Francisco's mega skyscrapers, and the artful swoops of the new golden gate bridge.
Now the view was dotted with ugly charred blotches of smoke and fire.
Shierel barely had time to take stock of the view. A moment later, her tension returned in earnest.
The Gryphoness sensed the change in pressure on a subconscious level long before the tertiary effects of the compression wave became consciously detectable. The tiny prickling at the back of her mind, however, was more than enough to set off her survival instincts.
She had no time to shout, she merely tossed the colt off her shoulders and in front of her, wrapping her wings tightly around the young Pony and curling into a protective ball as she did so.
Shierel hit the edge of the turf where it bordered the road, and just barely managed to place a parked maintenance truck between herself and the Bureau before all hell broke loose.
The Gryphoness rolled to cover at about the same time as the rounds impacted the building behind her.
The shockwave hit first, forcing her down into the pavement as the pressure momentarily jumped to several times atmospheric norms. Within a tenth of a second, the ear-splitting roar of the sound followed.
And then the searing heat, and particulate debris, as nearly everything within a half mile radius dissolved into a fireball.
GMT: 14:16:44
PDT: 07:16:44
Ragnar: +01:16:44
At first, Fyrenn thought he would have to pull the trigger. The officer in front of him was clad in a tattered suit of armor that barely bore any visible markings. It didn't help that the man was pointing a RAC directly between the Gryphon's eyes, as if doing so would somehow present an obstacle to Fyrenn disemboweling him casually.
Fyrenn had happened upon the soldier as he ventured forth into the complex's atrium ahead of the group. The man had immediately raised his RAC, and prepared to fire. Fyrenn responded in kind.
But as his talon began to put the initial burst of pressure on the trigger, Fyrenn's eyes picked out a telltale 'EARTHGOV' patch above the left breastpiece of the man's armor.
The Gryphon sighed in relief, and lowered his weapon.
"You really should scrape some of the ash off your uniform. I nearly blew you in half."
The man gulped as he lowered his own weapon, saluting abruptly as Lantry hobbled his way to the front of the group.
The General returned the gesture, speaking with the usual brusk tone of a commanding officer.
"Status report."
"Sergeant Myers sir, with the Earthgov Military Police, Vancouver Office."
Lantry squinted, "Military Police? Who are you reporting to in Special Forces?"
Myers shook his head forlornly, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his tone.
"All air corps and special forces officers in this sector are either dead, or dark sir. I'm coordinating command and control."
The General sighed and winced, "You have comm lines up?"
The Sergeant nodded, and gestured towards a nearby hallway.
"Partially. Lots of the surrounding infrastructure got hit, and the HLF are throwing out a lot of jamming in the major frequencies."
The group rounded a bend, to behold a series of tables pushed together into a large circle. A tangle of communications equipment, paper maps, and DaTabs had been strewn out over the surface.
A small gaggle of Military Police and security officers were pouring over the objects, occasionally pausing to work the hardened emergency communication sets.
Most of them paused to salute Lantry as the group entered the space, then remained frozen in awe as they caught a glimpse of Celestia. The Alicorn smiled reassuringly, and the men and women turned swiftly back to their tasks.
Myers gestured to the largest DaTab, which was displaying a map of the city, with manually placed position markers indicating troops on both sides.
"This command post has contact with fifteen fire-teams on the ground. We've lost all communication with the Blue Ridge, but last reports from the area indicated that the ship was on fire, and under heavy assault. All air assets are down, and the city is being held under a missile suppression dome, supplemented by two enemy fighters aloft."
Lantry grimaced, "Infrastructure damage?"
Myers shook his head slowly.
"Critical. All major transit terminals, runways, hangars, and roads were wiped out in the initial assault. There are at least two superfreighters burning near the mouth of the harbor, preventing surface ships from entering or leaving."
The General waved off a young Corpsman with a medkit, before stabbing his finger towards one of the smaller DaTabs.
"You have a link to the battle net?"
"Not precisely. We're receiving the basic data streams, but we can't seem to send anything back or establish basic communications handshakes to external sources. That's not surprising though. Right as everything went to hell and gone, we were getting reports that Fort Hamilton was under heavy attack from both biological and digital fronts. They were smart. They hit C&C for the entire Northamerizone."
Lantry stiffened, "No Satvision connections?"
A young female corporal spoke up from her station.
"Those bandwidths are being aggressively suppressed. Any dish large enough to break through the noise was vaporized early on, and none of our portable gear has the juice we'd need."
Myers nodded, "Before that happened though, we were able to make an initial outgoing transmission. Based on protocol instructions... Phoenix contingency was declared."
Carradan raised one eyebrow, and glanced up at Fyrenn, mumbling quietly to avoid interrupting the conversation.
"Phoenix contingency?"
As Myers rattled off several more tidbits of relatively useless information, the red Gryphon leaned over and explained in a hushed tone.
"Phoenix Contingency is a safeguard against potential hostage scenarios. If any member of the council is compromised, either by being placed in direct danger, by being captured, or even if someone in their family is being used as leverage, Phoenix Contingency is declared. It strips the affected Councilors temporarily of all power, and value, and declares them a non-priority asset. Essentially marking them as dead already, so they can't be used as coercive leverage, or be coerced themselves. I've never heard of it happening in my lifetime, let alone to the entire Council."
The General cradled his forehead in one hand, collapsing into a foldable chair and finally allowing the medic to begin dressing his wounds.
"Anything else to report?"
Myers sighed, "There's something from New York on the battle net about the 'P A L,' but we figure that's just---"
Lantry sat bolt upright, and fixed his eyes firmly on the officer.
"Son, I want you to very slowly, and very carefully, read me that entire report verbatim, omitting absolutely nothing."
Myers winced, and snatched up a DaTab, reading haltingly. The suppressed panic was evident in his voice.
"Ahh... Uhm... All it says is; 'D E C one, delimiter, gemini, delimiter, P A L, delimiter, one four one five G M T, delimiter, T H O R. Message repeats.' And it just keeps pulsing every two minutes."
Fyrenn tensed as he watched Lantry's expression freeze. Though the man's face remained, on the surface, impassive, Fyrenn could see something behind his eyes that was normally alien to a military officer's face.
Abject panic.
Celestia squinted over Myers' shoulder, "What does it mean?"
Lantry sat back and closed his eyes. Fyrenn actually thought he detected a hint of mournful regret in the General's worry lines.
"It means they found Thor. It means that in less than half an hour everyone in this city will be dead, or dying."
GMT: 14:16:52
PDT: 07:16:52
Ragnar: +01:16:52
Mr. Utah pitched forward, barely managing to arrest his fall by slamming both hands into the railing.
The Captain steadied himself by snagging his control console firmly in one hand.
"REPORT!"
The helmsman glanced away from the controls at his status screens.
"We just took another set of torpedoes to the hull. Starboard rudder and diving planes are taking heavy damage, and we're loosing armor integrity on the port front quarter near torpedo tube two. Another good hit and we'll have a hull breach. Their railguns are raking the conning tower. Two of my scopes are gone and the sensor pallets have been pretty heavily damaged."
Mr. Utah glowered, growling deep in his throat.
"Pull away and descend to bottom. Get us out of here."
The Captain's eyes widened, "Are you mad?! We can take them if we just---"
Mr. Utah's eyes flashed dangerously. The Captain fell silent as his superior spoke in a dark, dangerous tone.
"In a few minutes, they, and everyone else within over one hundred miles on the surface, will be a smoking cloud of ash. If we remain here we risk our propulsion becoming incapacitated, and thus we risk joining them. Get us out to sea, and run the boat as deep as the specifications permit. Now."
The Captain inhaled slowly, and dropped his eyes as he complied.
"Come left two seven four. Ahead flank speed and descend to two zero feet above the bay floor. Make your course for open water. Provide covering fire aft with all functioning guns, and deploy all mines."
As the helm, and fire control officers began to parrot back the orders, and execute them in turn, Mr. Utah straightened his shoulder guards, and glowered.
"And Captain? While I am here, this boat, and everyone on it, belong to me. If you ever challenge one of my orders again, I will forcibly vacate you from your post. Violently. Do we understand each other?"
The man gulped.
"Perfectly sir."
GMT: 14:18:29
PDT: 07:18:29
Ragnar: +01:18:29
Kephic leaned in close to the General, placing his eyes mere inches away from the man's face.
"Explain. What is Thor?"
Lantry sighed dejectedly, and the Gryphon pulled back slightly to give him some breathing room. The remainder of the group stared on with expressions ranging from suppressed fear in the Ponies' cases, to barely restrained anger in Celestia's case.
The General drummed his fingers on the table for several seconds, before finally opening his mouth.
"In the nineteen hundred and fifties, there was a man named Jerry Pournelle. He worked at what was then Boeing aerospace corporation, before it became Lockheed/Boeing in the later two thousands."
He stood, wincing, and began to pace slowly from wall to wall along the room's lateral dimension, working his arm and injured ribs gingerly all the while.
"Pournelle proposed a weapon, built from orbiting Tungsten coated iron rods the size of large telephone poles, with maneuvering fins and small acceleration motors for firing purposes."
Fyrenn winced, and hissed.
Lantry nodded in empathy as he went on.
"For those of you who aren't into physics; The weapon would have virtually no radar cross-section, no detectable launch emissions, and a closing velocity of Mach ten. Minimum. A large specimen of the so called 'rods from God' could theoretically impact with the force of a mid-sized cruise missile."
Varan sighed, "And Thor was the result of this idea?"
The General nodded again, resuming his explanation.
"More or less. According to the history books, Pournelle quit his job to become a science fiction writer. In truth? The United States had an operating prototype for the project by nineteen seventy eight, which was test-fired in nineteen seventy nine resulting in the so called 'Vela Incident,' and eventually the end of the cold war."
Kephic shrugged, "So we're dealing with something difficult to detect... But it only has the impact capacity of a standard missile?"
Lantry shook his head, fixing the Gryphon with a morose stare.
"No. I'm afraid it's much worse than that."
The General swallowed, and returned to his seat, grunting as the nerves around his newly bandaged ribs flared in protest.
"For the United States, enough wasn't enough. In Nineteen ninety one, the project was upgraded to twelve orbiting rods on individual separate launch platforms. Codenamed M-1 through M-12, and passed off as spy and telecommunications objects."
Carradan blanched, "So... You're saying there are TWELVE of these things up there?"
Lantry shook his head and held up a hand, "Two. The other ten were ejected onto orbits that would take them into the sun a long, long time ago. But M-11 and M-12 aren't scheduled to have a viable injection window for another year and a half."
Fyrenn sighed in relief, "Well if its only two rods---" Lantry's expression truncated his sentence awkwardly.
The General swept his eyes from being to being, fixing each with a deadly serious stare in turn.
After a pause, during which no one interjected, Lantry continued.
"Thor was upgraded five times over the course of its active duty operational lifetime, which extended well into the early two thousands. The rods on M-11 and M-12 are many times the size of the prototypes, and their density was heightened using a platinum core, in a lead sheath, with a final thin layer of tungsten alloy to prevent atmospheric ablation upon reentry. Their orbit was raised to 'high Earth' levels, and their launching systems were augmented by initial rail-launch prototypes."
Fyrenn's face fell. He sighed, and began shaking his head slowly, "Best estimates?"
Lantry sighed as well, taking a deep breath before speaking.
"Factoring in the max apoapsis, use of Oberth effect on the second stage insertion engine, and the initial boost of the retrofitted rail launcher?"
Skye hissed and squinted, as if in physical pain, as she swiftly ran calculations in her head. Lantry voiced the statistics from memory.
"They have an estimated closing velocity of thirty kilomach. Producing the yield of a sixty seven gigaton nuclear bomb."
Fyrenn went physically rigid with the shock of the concept. Skye gasped. Carradan looked as if he would vomit. The reactions of the remaining beings in the room were equally violent.
Neyla began spouting off a string of old Gryphic that Fyrenn could barely follow enough to interpret as a prayer for protection.
Lantry allowed the room time to settle. Some of the beings were silent. Others began a series of hushed, but urgent conversations.
Finally, Fyrenn leaned forward and spoke loudly enough to draw the room's attention.
"So... If we take what we know about the Thor satellites, together with what IJ discovered, it seems fairly obvious that the first rod will be used to strike here. Today. Imminently."
Kephic nodded, "And the second...? New York? London? San Francisco?"
Lantry shook his head, "There would be no point. The HLF isn't interested in wiping out its own kind without better motivation than simply causing pure terror. The only reason they're resorting to such measures is that they can't find any other way to penetrate the combined force of our security, and Celestia's own powers."
Carradan squinted in confusion, "Then where---"
Skye interrupted in a flat tone, "Canterlot."
The room once more froze in shock. The Unicorn raised her head, and explained her reasoning in a preternaturally calm voice, borne of a desperate internal defensive reaction to the tide of swelling panic in her gut.
"You said the rods are made from simple, dense materials. Platinum. Lead. Tungsten. At high enough speeds? Inorganic materials that dense, and that simple, could pass more or less intact through the Barrier, and still retain their density and kinetic energy. Especially if they've been purified and compressed."
Carradan swallowed hard, "Holy---"
Fyrenn raised a claw, "We passed through Canterlot on our way here, and delivered a warning to Luna... They are are prepared as they can possibly be at this stage."
Kephic nodded firmly, chiming in to prevent anyone else from speaking out in panic.
"Our concern has to be this city, the council, and our guest, her royal highness. Do we have any idea how much time is left?"
Lantry shook his head slowly, "Not in precise terms. But if they have established the Permissive Action Link, then they have complete control of Hamilton, and therefore of the satellites. They'll be loaded to launch within a few minutes, and it will only take another fifteen, at most, for the projectiles to arrive."
Fyrenn raised his head, eyes hardened in determination. As he spoke, he fired off a fervent silent prayer for Hutch's safety, then did his best to focus on the task to claw.
"Right. Then we haven't got time to stand here and cry over the end of the world. We're already two steps behind."
GMT: 14:18:52
EST: 10:18:52
Ragnar: +01:18:52
The distinctive click and whine of a loaded rail pistol was nearly lost amongst the similar sounds of Klarien's claws working the control panel to input coordinate data.
The Dragon caught the subtle cue, however. He smiled and grunted, not even deigning to turn his head away from his work.
"You're still alive? You really are one of the more remarkable specimens of Humanity. It's such a pity you chose to back the wrong side in this."
Hutch coughed, clutching a clear plastic rebreather to his face with one hand, and a pistol in the other. One shoulder was propped against the open hatchway to the PAL room, and though his aim was shaky, the sidearm was clearly trained directly on the back of Klarien's head.
"Take out the chip, and move away from the panel slowly."
The Dragon continued to work quietly, finalizing the two sets of longitude and latitude numbers carefully.
Hutch winced in pain, did his best to steady his hand, and squeezed the trigger. The clip emptied in less than two seconds, directing a brilliant stream of molten tungsten directly into the back of the Dragon's skull.
But as quickly as each round arrived, it compacted into a tiny wafer and shot off in some new, random direction, with a loud 'PING.'
Klarien didn't even bother to shift his stance as round after round ineffectually spent its kinetic energy on the impregnable might of his scales, sending out brief showers of sparks from the pure force of the expended momentum and friction.
The Dragon paused to raise one claw briefly. Two members of the fire team stepped forward dutifully, and relieved Hutch of his weapon, throwing in a harsh gut check, and a punch to his weakened shoulder for good measure.
The General collapsed to his knees just beyond the threshold of the door.
Everyone's attention briefly shifted to the main screen as two sets of coordinates scrolled into the lower right hand corner, and the word 'LOCKED' flashed prominently along the center of the lower edge, accompanied by an indicator tone.
Klarien pressed two more controls, and the status indicator changed to 'LOADING: 00:00:25.' The time began to tick backwards, second by second.
Hutch made as if to rise, but one of the troopers drove the butt of his RAC forcefully into the General's ribs, eliciting a hacking cough, accompanied by a spray of blood.
Klarien glanced up at the screen, speaking with an almost nonchalant air.
"Queue for firing. Set release to coincide with apoapsis, and program both packages for second stage insertion at optimal timeframes."
"Weapons programmed. Provide final authorization."
"Authorize action. Sigma four one over green nine theta. Strike, Strike."
A smaller notification box popped up; 'Queued to Fire at Apoapse: 00:10:23'
The green reptile turned, and proffered a sickly sweet grin.
"I like you, General. So I promise I'll make this painless for you."
Klarien crossed the intervening space in one enormous step. He pulled Hutch's' face mask away, with an almost tender delicacy. Despite the fact that the General was in no condition to resist, he tried fruitlessly to raise his arms and bat away at the Dragon's foreleg.
The two fireteam troopers effortlessly pinned the man's arms back before he could accomplish anything.
Hutch stared up into the vaguely luminous emerald orbs of Klarien's eyes with as much hatred and vitriol as he could muster.
Klarien chuckled, "You should be thanking me. I'm doing future generations a favor. And I'm offering you a much more pleasant death than the ones that others will suffer today."
Hutch tried to squirm as Klarien leaned in, but the soldiers held him in a vice-like grip that his battered body simply couldn't combat.
The Dragon opened his maw wide, revealing row upon row of glistening white sword-like teeth, and a devilish forked snake-like tongue.
The General forced his eyes to remain fixed open, even as clouds of noxious green toxin began to collect at the back of Klarien's throat. Hutch was determined to face his death directly.
He felt the air rush past him as the immense reptile sucked in a break in preparation to expulse the pungent, deadly cloud.
And then all at once, it was as if a thunderhead had punctured the roof of the structure.
There was a sound like the roar of a thousand turbine engines, and a light as bright as ten suns. The cacophony was swiftly followed by a nearly unbearable heat, and the incredibly foul stench of burnt flesh and scales.
Smaller, but painful arcs of secondary electrical runoff leapt across the floor, and through Hutch's knees, causing his body to convulse and his head to spin. Mercifully, however, the shock seemed to actually dull the pain of his previous injuries.
Both of his captors released him as their own suits of armor began to heat under the strain of diffusing so much current. It seemed to Hutch as if they were partially caught by the main bolt as a result of their standing position.
The General pulled himself to the side of the room as fast as he could. He had some idea of what would happen next.
Through the smoky haze, a shining blue shape emerged, filling the entryway with a hundred sharp cerulean edges.
Taranis growled low, and long, as Klarien wobbled to his feet. The green Dragon had been thrown several feet by the impact of the first attack, and several parts of his scaly hide were still smoking from the punishing bout of electrical judgement that had just coursed through his body.
"You! You were supposed---"
Taranis grinned, ever so slightly, "...To be on leave? In all my years of military service, I never took one day of leave during a crisis. I'm not starting now."
He raised one scale above his left eye as Klarien tensed, and spread his wings ever so slightly.
"You, on the other claw, might want to make sure you've got some terminal leave lined up."
Klarien made as if to lunge, but the larger and older Dragon beat him to the punch. Taranis crossed the room at a speed Hutch had previously thought only Pegasi could achieve in such an enclosed space.
His immense hind legs uncoiling like some sort of antiquated war machine's firing mechanism, the Blue Dragon sailed across the intervening space, and connected with Klarien so hard that the force of their scales meeting created a miniature thunderclap with a visible shockwave.
The pair continued on towards the left wall of the chamber. Klarien's bulk did absolutely nothing to bleed off the astonishing momentum Taranis had accrued. Together, the two Dragons slammed directly into the wall. The five inch thick reinforced metal peeled aside as if it were nothing more than a poorly manufactured foil wrapper.
Taranis and Klarien continued their outward journey, passing through another structural wall and out into the Fort's parade ground, their heads and foreclaws locked together in a deadly struggle to gain access to the opponents jugular.
Hutch glanced up as one of the fire team troopers staggered back to his feet, ripping off his helmet and trying to bat away the smoke around his eyes.
"What the FUCK---"
Hutch grimaced, trying to turn the expression into a small smile, "That, son, was a Dragon."
The words seemed to jar the man back to reality, and he fumbled in search of his RAC.
The General at last managed, through the dull throbbing of his cracked ribs, broken collar bone, concussion, and punctured lung, to muster a true smile.
He raised the soldier's discarded weapon.
"And this, I imagine, is what you're looking for."
The crack of the shot was almost entirely muffled by the continued din of the fight outside. Almost.
Stats
Page generated in 0.024 seconds
Total duration
996 users online
271,156 hits today, 2,314,256 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
5163635
That was never seen on-paper, as it were. I may have made my indications too subtle, but if you look at the dates, you'll notice that several years passed between the end of the previous book, and the start of this one.
The events you're referring to happened in the interim, and as an author I've been intentionally vague about them so far to add a little pizzazz to the drama. I promise that all will be explained in due time.
Really!? Hutch! You're a General! I know you're in pain and hurting like hell, but boy, you should KNOW BETTER!
You've got a handheld railgun--for Pete's sake!
And you KNOW your target will react to those shots like it was just a morning shower!
Don't bother telling the bastard to "step away" because you know he's not going to even bother worrying about you!
YOU SHOOT THE BLOODY FUCKING CONSOLE BEFORE THE BASTARD'S FINISHED PROGRAMMING THE LAUNCH, DUFUS!!!
Sorry, Mr. Utah--you're not getting away so easily there.
when you punch 67,000,000 into the kiloton entry window, and you get nasty things like:
Thermal Radiation
1st Deg Burn (3 cal/cm2) 4095.5 kilometers
2nd Deg Burn (5 cal/cm2) 3205.1 kilometers
3rd Deg Burn (8 cal/cm2) 2587 kilometers
(25 cal/cm2) 1651.2 kilometers
(50 cal/cm2) 1302.3 kilometers
(100 cal/cm2) 1037 kilometers
Now, he's wanting to use the ocean to shield him from the thermal effects--would've been a good idea, except for....
Overpressure
5,000 PSI Radius 10.2 kilometers
2,000 PSI Radius 14.1 kilometers
1,000 PSI Radius 18 kilometers
500 PSI Radius 23 kilometers
300 PSI Radius 27.7 kilometers
200 PSI Radius 32.3 kilometers
100 PSI Radius 42.2 kilometers
50 PSI Radius 56 kilometers
(502 MPH) 20 PSI Radius 84.3 kilometers
15 PSI Radius 97 kilometers
(294 MPH) 10 PSI Radius 119.7 kilometers
(163 MPH) 5 PSI Radius 178.4 kilometers
(102 MPH) 3 PSI Radius 247.6 kilometers
(70 MPH) 2 PSI Radius 327.4 kilometers
(38 MPH) 1 PSI Radius 543.9 kilometers
Those overpressure calcs are for air!
Water, however, is incompressible!--those overpressure values for underwater structures like subs, will be extended for thousands of miles.
Basically, there's NO WHERE in the Pacific that his sub can get to that will be survivable, especially after it's already suffered substantial battle damage!
8842494
The Panel is just about as bullet-proof as Klarien's head. He really has no options, so he's behaving suicidally, desperately, hoping to distract him and buy even a few more seconds.
8842605
Admittedly, ship armor is thousands upon thousands of times better in the future, so the chances of survival are appreciably better...
Water also tends to rise as a column because of the incompressibility, resulting in a tsunami, where most of the force is concentrated in sustaining the displacement and the wave (at least, that was my limited take-away from a couple elective geology classes).
The thermal effects are likely a non-issue, most of the initial impact force goes to straight-up vaporization/sublimation, and water being insanely dense, and there being just so much of it in the ocean...
...Of course, HLF command wouldn't care either way you slice it. A few deaths are acceptable collateral. They didn't exactly issue a blanket evac order for their own troops in the city.