Hegira: Eternal Delta

by Guardian_Gryphon

Chapter 26

GMT: 14:17:36
PDT: 07:17:36
Ragnar: +01:17:36

The roar of the ducted rotors gradually died away into a piercing whine as the engines spun down to idle positions.

Under normal circumstances, a dozen heavy-lift VTOLs would never have been able to fit into downtown Vancouver. But the HLF's two YF-23s had seen to it that there was a clear landing space. Nevermind that the LZ had come at the expense of four buildings and a roadway.

Two daisy-cutters had made short work of the 'obstacles' and everyone inside them.

The Heavy Lifters were two generations old. Their hulks had been bound for boneyards when the HLF appropriated them. Though aged, they were still highly serviceable. New power plants and avionics, a structural inspection, and a coat of beige paint had transformed each into a new machine.

As the rear loading ramps dropped in quick succession, the air was suddenly filled with the thrum of old-style gas turbine engines.

From the darkened interior of each aircraft, two heavily armored APCs issued forth, belching clouds of gray smoke from enormous twin exhaust nozzles.

The vehicles were low-slung, angular, and coated in beige digital camouflage. Silver-tinted slit-shaped viewports studded the front faces, along with a pair of huge carbon fiber bull bars, and two powerful halogen lamps.

The top of each armored monster was graced with a pair of rail autocannons bolted to a single gimbal.

Accompanied by the din of twenty four Honeywell engine blocks revving to maximum, the convoy peeled out into the streets, fanning out into six groups of four as they closed in on their destination.

GMT: 14:17:47
PDT: 07:17:47
Ragnar: +01:17:47

At first Shierel was convinced that the red substance coating her neck feathers was either her blood, or the blood of the colt she had cradled between her wings. As the ringing in her ears slowly began to dissipate, she took a deep breath.

A sensation of relief flooded through her chest. The distinctive and overpowering smell of engine coolant told her that the reddish liquid was anything but organic.

As her senses gradually began to recalibrate, new concerns dawned.

The air was thick with a stench two parts charred duracrete, one part leaking coolant and fuel, and one part the faint but unmistakable whiff of seared biomatter. When the loud pops and snaps of overloaded junction boxes weren't overpowering all other sound, it was easy to make out a myriad of screams, cries for help, and even soft weeping.

The Gryphoness staggered to all fours, and cast about fervently for her charge. The young colt had rolled away from her protective embrace, but had not gone far afield. He seemed fairly lucid, and was moving about in a dazed state, calling out for his parents.

Shierel paused and took stock of her own injuries. She realized quickly that she was not seriously hurt in any way. The vehicle she had taken shelter behind had absorbed much of the heat, gas, and shrapnel that would have otherwise slain her.

Nonetheless, her back right paw felt as if it had a severe sprain, and from the itching tingling sensation on her back, she knew she was mildly burned, and abraded, in several spots. The pain was easily dismissed, however, indicating that the injuries would eventually heal with a minimum of fuss.

Her armor had saved her from the remaining shrapnel, and from a more serious scorching.

Aside from the sprain, and the burns, her main problem was that she was coated in a thick layer of pavement dust and coolant. The gunk would make it impossible to fly with any sort of precision at high speed if it remained.

She stretched out both wings and shook herself vigorously, managing to dislodge the vast majority of the heavier material over the course of several seconds. A few pieces of her armor fell away too, having been partially shattered by the force of incoming projectiles.

As the Gryphoness moved to usher the Colt away from the curb, and into the clear space on the other side of the street, she realized that something was missing.

After a moment of intense thought, the answer dawned on her. There were no sirens.

Having been involved for several years with military actions on the Earth side of the Barrier, Shierel had become accustomed to the unique sound of emergency vehicle sirens as a mournful orchestra accompanying any major disaster.

The familiar tones could occasionally be heard in the distance, but it was clear that no one had responded to the crisis at the Bureau itself.

Shierel knew that could mean only one thing; The situation was so bad, that there simply weren't enough vehicles and personnel left to respond to new disasters.

She swiftly pulled the young colt towards her with one wing, and accelerated her pace.

Out of the smoke, a pair of figures emerged. Shierel carefully shepherded the colt into their waiting arms as soon as she noted the ConSec emblems on their tattered sleeves.

"Take care of him. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a mild concussion. Make sure he's observed around the clock for at least twenty four hours..."

The Gryphoness paused, then abruptly yanked off one of her foreleg gauntlets. She flipped the carbon scored piece of titanium-dipped ceramic over, and tapped one talon against the bar code etched into the inner lining.

"This is my service code. When this is over, if he's unclaimed, I want you to list me as his next of kin, and contact me immediately."

She pressed the chunk of metal into one of the soldier's hands, and he nodded in understanding. Shierel paused, then bent her head down, and stared into the colt's tear-filled brown eyes. The orbs were wide with shock and fear.

"It's going to be alright little one. I promise."

Shierel reached down and cradled the young Pony against her neck with one wing.

"Go with them. They'll keep you safe. Do you understand?"

She withdrew, and watched as the colt nodded meekly. She forced as much of a smile onto her beak as she possibly could under the circumstances, then turned to face the unfolding disaster that had once been the San Francisco Conversion Bureau.

The thirty story central building, and adjacent compound of shorter, wider structures, had been reduced to a crater.

Smoke from a dozen tertiary fires provided an eerie backdrop for the twisted frames of the remaining structural members. To Shierel, it looked like nothing so much as the skeleton of an Elder Dragon, bleaching away in the fog.

She picked up her pace briefly, then staggered to a halt as a pair of prone forms materialized in the smoke.

It only took a cursory examination to identify them as the young colt's parents. A difference in position of mere yards had condemned them to death by the million cuts and gouges of shrapnel.

Intellectually, Shierel knew that the situation could have been unspeakably worse. Fewer than a dozen had died, out of the thousands who might have if they hadn't acted as soon as they did.

Emotionally, the Gryphoness had a far less cogent grasp on perspective.

She could feel the rage building inside. A sensation akin to blazing fire coursing through her veins, as if someone had filled them with oil, and set them alight.

And she had no intention of standing in its way.

Shierel raised her head slowly, and scanned the horizon to the south east. A tell-tale flash twinkled through the haze, and several seconds later the staccato sound of rounds leaving a muzzle rumbled in the distance.

She allowed the rage to continue to careen through her system, unabated, until the red mist finally gave way to a startling, preternatural, icy cold clarity.

The men on the hill, behind the controls of the LRAC, died at that exact moment. They were simply blissfully unaware that an enraged Gryphon was on her way to collect the bodies.

GMT: 14:20:36
PDT: 07:20:36
Ragnar: +01:20:36

Kephic shook his head slowly, "Evacuation would be pointless."

He tapped at the DaTab with one talon, focusing on a massive red circle that encompassed Vancouver, and most of the surrounding province.

Varan grunted his assent.

"Anything fast enough to get us outside of this blast radius has doubtless already been destroyed."

Celestia frowned, rustling her wings in agitation as she chimed in sharply.

"All of that aside, I refuse to simply walk away and condemn the innocent people of this city to such a terrible fate."

All three Gryphons nodded quietly in agreement.

Fyrenn shrugged with both wings, and hung his head thoughtfully, "So we stop the rod from hitting the city. We don't really have any other choice."

Skye's eyes went wide. The Unicorn tilted her head down and around so she could look the red Gryphon in the face. Her tone was somewhere on the borderline of panic, and incredulity.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying? Trying to arrest that kind of momentum is like... Like..."

Skye groaned and slammed one hoof into the floor in frustration, "It's like trying to stop a maglev train with a rubber band and two paper clips!"

Lantry sighed and shifted in his chair uncomfortably, "She's right. This weapon was designed, intentionally, to defy all possible forms of countermeasure, or defensive emplacement."

Fyrenn held up one claw for silence, and fixed his gaze on the DaTab.

"I didn't say we were going to stop it from hitting the planet. I said we were going to stop it from hitting the city."

There was a long moment of pause. The stillness was accentuated by the chatter of urgent voices over the communication sets, and the distant rumbles and cracks of continued fighting in the streets.

At last, Skye began to nod slowly.

"Ok big guy... I see where you're going with this. It takes an equal and opposite force to completely dispel the relative momentum of an object... But to alter its velocity vector only slightly..."

Fyrenn glanced up and waggled one claw as he finished the thought.

"It only takes a relatively small amount of force, applied in the right place, at the right time. Same principle runs the asteroid impact avoidance grid. Their satellites regularly divert planet-killer class objects with only a fractionally small amount of energy expended."

Lantry rose and shuffled over to the camp table, "Even if we could manage to bring this 'relatively small' amount of force to bear, what good does it do us? If that thing hits anywhere around here we're going to be wiped out by the secondary effects of the impact."

Carradan shook his head, injecting his own opinion swiftly and with great surety.

"No we won't."

The eyes of the entire group fixed abruptly on the rotund Pegasus. He shrugged, and smiled sheepishly as he elaborated.

"What? I wasn't exactly honor roll in physics, but I do remember that water is great at absorbing force. And we have a whole ocean of it just over thataway."

He gestured to the west with one hoof for emphasis.

Celestia's brow knit, and she tilted her head, "Would that not cause catastrophic damage nonetheless due to to all the displacement?"

Kephic tapped at the DaTab once more, "Given the choice between being annihilated for sure, or inundated with a giant wave, I think I'll go with the tsunami."

Lantry gestured to several points on the map, "He's not wrong. Most of the west-coast cities in the Northamerizone have been heavily fortified against earthquakes and tsunamis as a consequence of the bad regional geology. There would be a lot of damage from a wave that big..."

Skye chimed in to finish the thought, her tone considerably more hopeful.

"But it would be one hundred percent survivable for anyone who could get more than a mile inland. More than fifty percent survivable for anyone who couldn't."

Fyrenn placed both claws on the DaTab's surface, and pushed them together to back the view out, speaking all the while.

"Most of Vancouver has the additional protection of a barrier landmass. Seattle is too far inland to be affected. That leaves only three other populated coastal areas at risk."

Varan nodded once curtly as he spelled out the obvious.

"San Diego, San Francisco, and Los Angeles."

Lantry shook his head slowly, "Presuming we can re-establish comm lines and send a warning ahead of time, we still seem to be forgetting that a 'relatively small' amount of force, in this case, is still quite a lot of energy. More than any of our regional firepower in the hemisphere could muster, even if we had full command and control linkage to all of it."

Fyrenn inhaled slowly, "How much more?"

The General threw up his hands and sighed, "I can't do that kind of math on the back of a napkin."

Skye smiled slightly.

"I can. Tell me what we have to work with, and I can at least give you a rough idea."

Lantry exhaled sharply and shrugged, "Yorktown is stationed close to Midway. She's a carrier though. The most you can hope for there is a swarm of mid-range warheads. Then we have the anti-missile defense grids in Seattle, LA, San Francisco, and San Diego. The only other thing within a thousand miles that can put out a punch like you're looking for is the Tohoku and her battlegroup."

Skye glanced over to Fyrenn for a more in depth explanation, and he obliged.

"A traditional swarm of mid range ship-fired missiles would be a couple dozen warheads, each with the equivalent of a one thousand pound conventional charge. Each of the anti-missile defense grids will be two or three hundred retractable platforms mounting Helios-type 'rail saw' guns; Thirty six thousand rounds per minute each. Twelve kilograms per slug. Muzzle velocity of Mach seventeen."

Skye squinted into the middle distance, then raised an eyebrow, "And the battleship?"

Fyrenn allowed himself a small grin as he spouted off the statistics from memory.

"Main battery; Three turrets, three barrels each, sustained fire of forty rounds per minute per barrel. Muzzle velocity of Mach twenty one, slug weight of one thousand five hundred kilos."

His grin widened slightly as Carradan blanched.

"Secondary fire; Two Helios gun emplacements, six sea-whizz anti-missile defense guns, and four smaller 'gimbal guns' each equivalent to one quarter the damage potential of one main battery turret. Battlegroup combined armaments; One cruiser, two destroyers, and three littoral defense frigates, with a total tallied output of approximately two-thirds of the Battleship's raw kinetic force potential."

As Skye furrowed her brow and resumed her calculations, there was another protracted silence, broken only briefly by Stan's quiet snort.

"I will never, ever, insult the Navy ever again as long as I live."

Finally, Lantry whistled quietly, and glanced up at Fyrenn.

"Son, I've been in the military for almost fifty years, and I can't remember even half of that. Just what the hell do you do with your free time?"

Fyrenn snorted, "I may not be too good at too many things, but if it's a war machine? There's a good chance I know something about it."

Neyla tried her best to put on a glower, but try as she did, a small hint of appreciative awe leaked through in the upturn at the corners of her beak.

"You need a better hobby."

Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, "Are you, of all people, saying weapons can't be a good hobby?"

Carradan shook his head slowly, and leaned over towards Celestia, speaking in a mock stage whisper.

"He doesn't need a hobby. He needs a visit from the love doctor."

Fyrenn's ears perked, and swiveled to the side, followed abruptly by his head.

"Can it."

Before anyone else could fire off a retort, Skye nodded her head and spoke.

"Got it. I've got it."

The focus of the room instantly shifted to the little tan Unicorn. She blew a stray wisp of mane from one eye, and shook her head dolefully.

"You're two thirds of the way there, roughly speaking. But no more than that. That's a best estimate. Assuming you want to dump the rod far enough north and west to avoid radiation as a concern, and mitigate resulting wave forces, and assuming all the specifications I've been given about the rod are correct."

Fyrenn glanced over to Lantry, his brow knit with anxiety, ears flattening reflexively.

"The other battleships?"

The General shook his head, "North Carolina is in the south-west Atlantic, South Dakota is off the coast of Singapore, and Falkirk is just east of Sydney."

The red Gryphon scratched nervously at the back of his head with one claw, "Assault RACs?"

Lantry repeated the negative gesture, "Anything of ours land-based with a gun that big on this side of the continent is stowed safely in its base garage. It'd take more time to co-ordinate activating those assets than we've got left. And all this assuming we can get the comm lines open both ways again."

Carradan groaned and slammed his head into the edge of the table, "This is not how I wanted to go out---"

Celestia interrupted quietly, "I can provide the remainder."

Lantry closed his eyes for a moment, then fixed the Alicorn with a piercing stare.

"I'm sorry. What?"

The Princess nodded calmly, elaborating slowly, but firmly.

"Without access to the sun... To my sun... It will be taxing. Dangerously so. I will need space, the chance to concentrate un-interrupted for several minutes, and a clear view of your western sky."

Kephic tilted his head, his ears perking up and the feathers of his crest shifting in a display of abject curiosity.

"How is that possible?"

Celestia glanced up at her horn, "It is not just for show. Nor is my mark. I can produce... A great deal of heat and light energy if I wish to. Particularly during the day time, and particularly when I have an unobstructed connection to the sun. My sun, at any rate. The one here is of considerably less use, as I have no direct power over it."

Varan began to tighten the cinches on his armor, "Will you be able to summon enough energy in this place?"

The Alicorn shifted her gaze to Fyrenn. Her muzzle stiffened in an expression of determination.

"As Fyrenn has already stated; We have no choice but to try."

GMT: 14:27:02
EST: 10:27:02
Ragnar: +01:27:02

Hutch slammed his fist into the control panel once more, as if sheer force of will would cause the system to accept his credentials.

"Authentication denied. This action is linked to a different officer's command code."

Before the General could unleash a renewed stream of curses at the console, he was forced to pull his body around the side of the stanchion as quickly as he could. The sound of RAC rounds pinging off the hardened edges of the control station told him he had just barely missed a deadly brush with the business end of the remaining troopers' RACs.

The HLF were down to five soldiers. Aside from the one Hutch had recently dispatched, one had been crushed to death under the Dragons as they careened through the wall.

The aural evidence of their ongoing struggle could still be heard by the unaided ear, and from time to time the floor would actually vibrate subtly as one of them impacted a part of the building with particularly great force.

Hutch decided he had more immediate problems. The five enemies had been scattered by the initial violence of the reptilian outburst, but had soon managed to re-group. During the precious seconds of reprieve, Hutch had been forced to conclude that resetting the PAL was a pointless endeavour.

The General knew he didn't have the skill to bypass the necessary encryptions in the three minutes remaining.

Further recriminations about that fact were cut short by a shower of sparks. Hutch braced himself against the back of the console as best he could, in spite of the immense pain in his ribs.

In between the bursts of suppressive fire, he hoisted the dead soldier's RAC over the top of the console and began firing blindly.

The indiscriminate spray of rounds did very little to hinder the progress of the five soldiers.

Hutch pulled the rifle back to his chest. He braced himself to swing around the panel, and sell his life as dearly as he could.

Before he could muster the energy to complete the maneuver, he found himself abruptly facing the dull gray muzzle of a RAC-6.

Though in reality the soldier pulled the trigger instantaneously, it seemed to Hutch as if he paused for an agonizing eternity, staring down into the General's eyes through the cracked and scored silver faceplate of his helmet.

At long last, the deafening report of the slug leaving the barrel reached the General's ears. He felt his chest explode with the anticipation of the ever-so-brief pain he knew the round would cause before it punctured his heart.

For a moment, it almost felt as if the bullet had, in fact, stricken its mark.

It was only after a very real, nearly-silent moment of stunned stillness, that Hutch realized his heart was still beating, albeit at an almost dangerously accelerated pace.

Hutch squinted, and focused on the space between his chest, and the offending rifle. To his amazement, he managed to resolve the image of the needle-thin, silvery RAC round.

The projectile was hanging, completely motionless, a mere three inches from his body. The wisps of outgassing, created as the bullet turned the air before it into plasma, were still dissipating around the outer casing.

Several more seconds passed as Hutch, and the HLF soldiers alike, tried desperately to reconcile the paradox of physics that their eyes were insisting was fact.

The stillness was broken, at last, by a sharp 'PING,' as the round dropped harmlessly to the floor plating.

One of the HLF troopers was the first to spot the intruders. He turned and raised his weapon, only for it to slam backwards into his chest with so much force, that the central piece of his chest plate snapped in half with a thunderous crack.

Hutch pivoted to his right to see one of the most surreal things he had ever glimpsed.

Standing in the doorway to the PAL room, their ragged clothing hanging off them in dirty tattered strips, were two young girls. By the General's estimation the elder one could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen. The younger one looked to be nine or ten.

Both of the girls stood with their hands held above their heads, palms facing inwards towards their temples.

Hutch could just barely make out the presence of small, sleek, silvery objects welded to the outside of their skulls. The devices were mostly concealed by the girls' hair, and would likely have gone unnoticed had they not been glowing brightly with a purple-tinged blue aura.

The implants were generating an audible hum, and visible air distortions. As Hutch watched in amazement, the distortions intensified, as did the sound.

Another soldier raised his rifle. The man looked ready to pull the trigger, but his helmet abruptly folded in on itself with a sickening crunch, reducing his skull to an object approximately the size and shape of a small soda can as it shrank.

The last soldiers managed to opened fire, but the action cost them their lives.

As each of the troopers pulled back on their triggers, with practiced coordination, their rifles swung abruptly to the left and to the right, dragging their arms and bodies with them.

Before any of the men and women could react, they had all simultaneously discharged their rifles mercilessly into each others' torsos at point blank range.

Their corpses dropped to the floor with nearly as much synchronization as the troopers had displayed in their last moments of life. The older girl stepped over the pile of bodies, bringing her within a foot of Hutch. She glanced down at him, and inhaled sharply as she realized he was conscious.

She slowly raised both hands once more, staring down at the General with sad, but resolute brown eyes.

Hutch feebly raised both hands, trying to muster his voice over the protests of his dry, smoke coated throat.

The younger girl snatched her partner's left arm, and glared up at her reproachfully.

"Sonya! NO! You can't!"

The older girl, returned the harsh expression, her voice escaping as a frustrated hiss.

"We *have* to April! If we let anyone see us, and live? Minos will bury what's left of us so deep that not even God will be able to find our graves! Besides, what have these Earthgov people ever done for us?"

April shook her head, "He isn't one of them! They aren't all that way! You can't just snuff him out like that! Not after he's survived this much. He doesn't deserve that!"

Hutch coughed, and managed to force sounds out of his mouth, despite the raw and wretched tingling at the back of his throat caused by a mixture of blood and ash.

"You have... My word. I swear; Whoever you're afraid of... He won't find out. I won't let him."

The older one shifted her gaze to the General, piercing his eyes with a searching stare.

"You promise? Absolute silence?"

Hutch nodded slightly, unable to bring any more words to his lips. His vision had begun to swim and cloud over, as if someone had sprayed a thick layer of steam in front of his eyes. As consciousness abandoned him gradually, Hutch just barely managed to make out the tail end of the conversation.

Sonya sighed, and turned to make her way to the door.

"This kind of decision is going to be the death of us one day April. I hope you understand that."

The sisters departed the room swiftly, and continued their mission with ruthless and clinical efficiency.

General Hutch slipped deeper and deeper into his comatose state, completely undisturbed by the cacophony of Draconic battle noises wafting up through the hole in the wall.

As the clock struck 14:30:00 Greenwich Mean Time, the computer made its announcement dutifully.

"Launching."

There was no one to hear it.
There was no one to stop it.

GMT: 14:30:00
Ragnar: +01:30:00

Soundlessly, the immense white shapes arced into position, carried by the invisible yet titanic forces of the Earth's gravitational pull.

Both satellites were identical. Long, thin, hexagonal prisms with the letters 'USAF' stenciled down one side, and the inscription 'THOR' on the other. Solar panels sprouted from the perpendicular sides in a pair of fan-like arrays.

The objects were pointed along their prograde path, with only a few meters of inward declination betraying their weaponized purpose. That, and the menacing silvery tip of a spear-like object protruding from the mouth of each satellite.

At precisely 14:30:00 GMT, a concurrent pair of blinding flashes burst forth from the muzzles of the platforms.

The tungsten coated platinum and lead javelins issued forth with such speed, that an observer standing nearby would have missed their passage merely by blinking. Within a tenth of a second, their dark forms had vanished against the inky velvet backdrop of the void.

The weapons left behind them the damaged wrecks of their launching platforms. The satellites had been designed to be as light as possible, and had been fielded at a time when rail-launch technology was nascent at best.

The kickback from the magnetically accelerated launch virtually shredded the superstructures. The forward portions of the launch rails simply sublimated into particulate debris, shedding their excess energy as photons.

Now caught in the inescapable fist of gravity, and further goaded by the astonishing muzzle velocity their launch rails had produced, the rods plummeted into an inward, and downward, spiral, picking up speed with each passing second.

Before the clock had even struck 14:31:00, the rods were already moving so swiftly that not even the force of a nuclear blast could have counteracted their colossal energies.

Impact was inevitable.

GMT: 14:30:22
PDT: 07:30:22
Ragnar: +01:30:22

Fyrenn allowed only the tips of his ears, his eyes, and part of his beak to peek out over the edge of the hatch.

It only took a few seconds of searching to pick out no less than seven hidden troopers. Most of them were augments, and all of them were spread out across nearby rooftops in tactically advantageous positions that afforded them direct lines of fire.

The red Gryphon lowered himself as slowly, and carefully, as he could until he was sure his movements were no longer potentially visible. He then allowed himself to drop the rest of the way down the access ladder, into the room below.

Kephic raised one eyebrow, "Well?"

Fyrenn shook his head, "There are at least seven up there. I'm willing to bet they have backup ground-side as well. They're watching every last inch of the roof."

The brothers took off loping down the corridor, barely sparing time to check cover positions and flanks.

Kephic grunted, the sound coming out more like a deep rumble in his chest.

"They seem intent on keeping us in this building."

Fyrenn nodded, swiveling his head right to check a particularly shadowed corner of the deserted hallway.

"And why not? They aren't any more sure of the extent of Celestia's powers than we are. They've tried this how many times and failed miserably? And think about how many resources they must have committed to get this far. If they fail...?"

Kephic grinned slightly, "It would cripple them for decades to come. All the more reason for us to find a timely escape route."

Fyrenn snorted, "Yeah, and I promise you the roof is not the way to go. Lots of flat and curved surfaces, no cover, and good lines for a crossfire. I think even we would struggle to get out of that kill box alive, much less her highness, or Stan."

At last, the pair rounded the corner and came bounding into the lobby. Varan and Carradan arrived simultaneously through one of the opposite doors. The latter was panting, and practically stumbling over his own hooves in an attempt to keep up with the gold Gryphon.

From his position in a camp chair beside the main table, Lantry glanced back and forth between the two teams expectantly.

Kephic spoke first, jerking one thumb claw over his shoulder for emphasis.

"The roof is a death trap."

Lantry turned his gaze to Varan. Celestia mimicked the action from her place standing beside Sergeant Myers, and Skye.

Varan shook his head slowly, "All three ground level exits we surveilled were awash in enemy troops. Two score, minimum, per exit. All heavily armed augments backed by rocket troopers and grenadiers."

The General sighed and grit his teeth, "They're intent on keeping us locked up here until those weapons hit."

Myers jumped reflexively as his DaTab let out a piercing shrill alarm. He fumbled with the instrument for several seconds, then stiffened. Fyrenn watched in concern as the man's face blanched white as a sheet.

Lantry rose shakily, and his eyes hardened.

"They've launched?"

Myers gulped, and nodded slowly.

Celestia flared her wings partially in a display of concerned emotion, "Then time is of the essence. We must choose a course of action."

Several seconds of silent introspection followed, as every member of the group set their racing mind to the problem of escaping the box they had been encased in.

At length, Fyrenn raised his head, and spoke. His tone was flat, but resolute.

"I've got us a window. But it'll be closed soon enough, if it isn't already."

Skye chuckled, though the high pitch of the sound betrayed her underlying fear and worry.

"Is this going to be anything like your other plans?"

Fyrenn allowed himself a small, shallow, predatory grin.

"No. Better."

Neyla sighed and closed her eyes.

"God have mercy on us all."

Author's Note:

Tracks:
-----------------
"Roiling Anger" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpYdPG0NU5Q

"Calculated Risks" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L31pW9wektM&

"Deadly Mercy/Dropper" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77jEsAuPy2Y

"A Window" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZiA3HfOi0c

Comments

[Kevin Lee]

The men on the hill, behind the controls of the LRAC, died at that moment. They were simply blissfully unaware that an enraged Gryphon was on her way to collect the bodies.

So the only question is: does the angry cat-bird get to kill them before the effects of THOR does?

[Guardian_Gryphon]

8842612
Always count on the angry cat-bird.