Chapter 52
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
April 5th, Gregorian Calendar
Skye smacked her hoof against the wall-screen, and nodded curtly.
"Thanks to the 'fair prince's' connections? I was able to set up a series of the ship's cluster AI to trawl pretty much the entire defense net. Even the black book no-touchie parts. This is what we have to hit."
Sildinar snorted, and idly toyed with his modified RAC rifle.
"What evidence do you have that I'm fair?"
The Unicorn snorted, and rolled her eyes.
"Uhuh. Well the Echelon sure isn't taking any chances. This is the diplomatic and military terminal at John F. Kennedy Intraglobal Skyport. Ninety six acres of heavily defended tactical evacuation zone under strict military control."
Skye swiped across the screen, summoning a series of schematics.
"Here are some old friends for us. Two Javelin hypersonic transports, marked with diplomatic all-access tail stripes and transponders. The requisition for them states that they're slated to leave JFK in three hours. Just before dawn. They were ordered through back-channels not thirty minutes after Big Red stapled wolfenstein out to die in the rain. But that's not all folks..."
The Unicorn pointed to the second and third schematic wireframes.
"At the same time, through a different but related office? A requisition was placed for five of these heavy APCs, and four escort jeeps per. No filed routes, drivers *not* to be provided by material supply command. To top it all off?"
Skye tapped the screen a final time, and a document materialized in large, official print.
"The Skyport is going to be under a protocol ILS-Dark order, starting in one hour, and lasting for the next four. No craft in or out except for the Javelins. No military, police, or civilian interference. Nothing so much as a stray tarmac light. As I understand it? When you lay down an order like that, you're planning on some serious shenanigans."
Fyrenn nodded slowly, rising from his seat at the far end of the conference table.
"This is it, then. They plan to move all the children, and the majority of their other personnel out in one fell swoop. We miss this window? They scatter to the four winds and this becomes the most nightmarish scavenger hunt in history."
Kephic nodded, and inclined his head.
"So we don't miss this window. Do we have a plan of attack?"
Sildinar shook his head.
"That's why we're all here. We have three hours at most to plan this, get into position, and execute it."
Hutch's eyes narrowed, and he held up a hand, interjecting firmly.
"With minimal, to no casualties in terms of friendly military troops. That's my one stipulation."
Varan shrugged both wings and added his opinion to the pile.
"That should not be difficult in this particular instance. The ILS-Dark protocol will keep the combat zone more or less clear for our purposes."
Carradan waggled his head from side to side, shooting a half-glance at the screen.
"Meh. Piece of cake. So what's the play exactly?"
Fyrenn nodded slowly, and inhaled, as he examined the screen. He tapped a small control embedded into the table, bringing a holographic representation of the Skyport into existence in mid-air.
"Neyla... You say I don't like to do things with subtlety..."
He paused to offer the Gryphoness a wry smirk, as she folded her forelegs, and responded with a good natured glower.
Fyrenn inclined his head, and chuckled grimly.
"Well... You're not wrong."
The red strobe effect of the nearest jeep's emergency lights cast Loryss' face in an eerie, hellish aspect. The Councilor wordlessly handed her bag to the nearest soldier as she mentally prepared herself for the undignified climb into the rear of the APC.
What the vehicle lacked in furnishings, it more than made up for with five inches of alloy armor plating, and a roof-mounted rail-saw emplacement.
Loryss cast a final glance at her apartment building, before nodding to the soldier beside the vehicle's inner door. The man reached out and slammed an armored fist into the control panel. The APC's rear compartment was swiftly sealed, dimming appreciably as all outside sources of light were cut off.
The vehicle lurched as the convoy pulled away from the curb, and tore down the empty stretches of Lexington avenue, with no regard for stoplights, lane delineations, or speed limits. Though there were precious few people left in the city, and even fewer road vehicles, the escort jeeps ran with all lights flashing, and deafening military caution sirens blaring.
Loryss would never have admitted it, even to herself, but on some level she felt a gnawing sense of concern. She had meticulously reviewed footage of General Warluf's fatal encounter with Fyrenn, and she knew full well that an identical armored convoy had lasted less than twelve seconds against the Gryphon's lone high-powered rifle.
The Councilor dismissed the thought as the city streaked past outside, to the tooth-vibrating monotone roar of the APC's immense engine block. Soon enough, she reasoned, her person, her career, and her assets would be well out of the Gryphon's reach.
Until then, however, Loryss resigned herself to an omnipresent sense of nervousness. She simply couldn't dispense with the feeling that she was being keenly, and malevolently, observed.
Kephic finished screwing the steel strut into the concrete, and stepped back to survey the results. Hutch dropped to a prone position, his armor clacking softly against the roof's surface.
The General, and every other member of the group, wore JRSF standard gear appropriate to their species, painted in the same near-black shade of maroon as Fyrenn's armor, and likewise striped with brighter red. The other Gryphons, including Alyra, had painted on their war markings with a reserve of Kryn's blood that Fyrenn had saved for the express purpose.
Hutch, Skye, and Stan had all expressed a strong preference to use simple red acrylic paint.
The General placed the enormous rifle's stock to his shoulder, and glanced down at Kephic's work. The weapon had received a newly modified tripod system, utilizing pneumatic rams fed into ground screws to absorb the recoil. The original iron sights had been augmented with a night vision enabled digital scope, for the sake of Hutch's Human eyes.
He glanced experimentally down the length of the barrel, then patted the stock lovingly.
"You really need a name for this thing."
Fyrenn shrugged his wings, and inclined his head slightly.
"I'll leave that honor up to you."
Skye stepped back from her task, allowing her magic to fade away gently, and gestured to Alyra.
"Give that a try."
The fledgling stepped up to the Unicorn's instrument, and peered down its length. The device was mounted on a tripod, and an extension post, so that it came to the young Gryphoness' eye-level. It consisted merely of a long steel rail equipped with iron sights, and an infrared laser tied to Hutch's scope. A small holographic display projector rounded out the package, producing a minimalist HUD showing basic range-finding information, a holo-trail from the barrel of the rifle, and a mini window showing what Hutch was seeing through his own scope.
The assembly had been partially Stan's idea, though most of its execution had been engineered by Varan and Skye. It was intended to allow Alyra to act as Hutch's spotter, given that a standard digital scope's comparatively meager magnification would be a detriment to her eyes, rather than an aid.
Alyra snorted, and ruffled her wings in agitation.
"Why do I have to be the spotter?"
Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, and fixed his daughter with a soft glare.
"Because I don't feel comfortable putting you into a close combat situation until you've had some training, and time to adjust."
The fledgling huffed, and sat back on her haunches, the edges of her beak turning down slightly.
"Is this how its always going to be, now? You're going to do everything you can to keep me out of the fights?"
Neyla shook her head, and placed a comforting wing around the young Gryphoness.
"If he gets too overbearing, I'll handle it. But this time he's right. You're not fully prepared yet. All your years of experience are useless until you fully acclimate, and figure out how to repurpose them. Besides... What you're doing here is important."
Hutch nodded, and chuckled darkly as he fiddled with the settings on his scope.
"No argument there. It's been about five years since I qualified with a sniper rifle, and I was never all that great of a shot on my own. This 'Hellraiser' is just a bit much for one old sot to handle all by his lonesome."
Alyra giggled, and glanced back down her new sighting mechanism.
"Is that what you're gonna call it?"
Hutch shrugged, and nodded.
"Sure. Why not. It kinda fits. Anyway... I'm glad to have you here. Your father and I have been friends for a good few years, and you and I need to get in some quality time before you all disappear off into the sunrise."
The General rose to a kneeling position, and pulled a munitions canister from his armor's rear magnetic hardpoint. He opened the large gray cylinder, and began laying out shells in careful groupings, making sure he kept the objects outside the Hellraiser's potential magnetic field.
Fyrenn, Varan, Neyla, and Sildinar turned to help Skye and Carradan with their equipment.
The red Gryphon and his brother carefully attached a large, bulky, angular device onto Skye's back, locking it into her armor's hardpoints, and cinching down a series of extra straps for good measure.
Though both Ponies had made it clear that they would fight, to the point of providing lethal fire if need-be, Fyrenn had insisted they concentrate on more tactical supporting roles. Stan, for his part, had volunteered to carry extra stores of munitions and grenades.
Sildinar had fashioned a form of well-secured, but easy-access rack to fit on the Pegasus' shoulders, between his wings. The device provided quick retrieval for thousands of rounds of railgun clips, and several dozen grenades of various types. Behind that, Neyla had carefully secured an oversized medical trauma kit.
Once the task was complete, Fyrenn glanced around to each member of the group. He smiled slightly, and nodded.
"Well. They'll certainly be intimidated, no question of that."
Skye chuckled darkly, and nodded.
"If they mistake us for avenging angels of death, It wouldn't really surprise me."
Varan raised one eyebrow slightly, his typical stoic tone peaking slightly in amusement.
"Mistake us? It seems as if your words are fairly apt, literal, descriptors."
Neyla held up a claw for silence, and gestured out across the edge of the roof, to the west.
"It's time. They should be arriving in a moment."
The group had taken up station atop the largest building that bordered the Skyport. Below and beyond to the west sat a large empty concrete buffer zone, that quickly rose into a steel, concrete, and barbed wire security barrier. Beyond the fence lay a series of tarmacs, runways, hangars, fuel silos, two terminal buildings, and a control tower.
Due to the pre-dawn hour of the morning, very little activity could be seen in the Skyport. A few wheeled maintenance drones whizzed back and forth on pre-determined paths, moving luggage, coolant, and raw materials from hangar to hangar.
The breeze toyed with the edges of tarpaulins covering the few private and civil aircraft tied down in outside parking zones.
A lone light VTOL, likely a security patrol in Fyrenn's estimation, dipped and swung lazily around the opposite side of the facility's perimeter. The red Gryphon could pick out the pilot, co-pilot, and door-gunner of the patrol, as well as the faces of four operators in the control tower.
As the group watched in silence, the tower personnel snapped out of their dazed boredom, and set to work on their access panels. One by one, the runway and taxiway lights began to wink out. Shortly thereafter, the hangars, terminals, control tower, and flood-lights all went dark.
As all drone activity abruptly ceased, the patrol VTOL snapped to a northerly heading, dipped slightly, and peeled away at top speed.
Fyrenn shook his head slowly, and glowered.
"Something isn't right. The lights aren't supposed to be snuffed for another twenty minutes... We haven't even seen the APCs arrive---"
The red Gryphon's words were abruptly cut off as the doors of one of the darkened hangars began to slide open with the noisy thrum of motorized rack and pinion gears. As the portals peeled away, the distinctive sound of high powered jet turbines spilled forth, accompanied by two black, sleek shapes.
Kephic scowled as he managed to pick out the shadow-wreathed silhouettes of several APCs and armored jeeps in the building's deeper recesses.
Sildinar took a moment to state the obvious on behalf of the less ocularly-gifted group members.
"They changed their schedule. Not entirely surprising given how badly you have frightened them."
As the two Javelin transports cut a sharp left onto the nearest taxiway, proceeding in close, staggered formation, Fyrenn snapped open his wings.
"We have less than thirty seconds."
Carradan raised an eyebrow, and held out a hoof.
"Whoa there mister afterburners... Even *I* can barely make the distance from here to those jets in twenty five seconds in this magic-scarce environment. By the time the rest of you catch up they'll be going close to mach one."
Fyrenn loped to the edge of the building, and gestured sharply with one claw.
"Form up behind me."
The red Gryphon shot his speckled brother a slight wry grin.
"I'm going to teach you how I 'cheat' at air racing."
Fyrenn leapt from the roof, followed in quick succession by Neyla, Kephic, Stan, and Varan. Sildinar brought up the rear, sparing a brief moment to snatch Skye into a close-carry position with his forelegs.
The red Gryphon called out as he began to pick up speed, allowing his headset to transfer the words to Hutch, in spite of the incredible wind-noise.
"BUY US SOME TIME!"
Fyrenn and the rest of the Gryphons pelted downwards at an incredible rate, hugging the side of the building as tightly as they dared. The red Gryphon again shouted into his headset, to make himself heard to the group.
"I'M PULLING LEVEL THIRTY FEET OUT! THAT WILL GET US OVER THE FENCE! STAY CLOSE TO THE STRUCTURE, AND KEEP YOUR WINGS TIGHT!"
Sildinar swiftly began to lose ground due to the drag created by his passenger, but given their role in the plan a few moments of lag time in their arrival posed little cause for concern.
Atop the skyscraper, Alyra stared down her sighting device with one eye, spreading her wings slightly and sticking out her tongue over the lower right edge of her beak in concentration.
"Three little dots to the right. Two up."
Hutch chuckled, and carefully shifted the Hellraiser, threading a round into the breech as he did so, and cycling the bolt.
"They're called 'mils.' "
Alyra grinned sheepishly, and nodded without taking her eyes off the target.
"Come back left half a mil and keep the front tire of the lead plane three mils left of center and two below."
The Gryphoness nodded once more, and grinned as she instinctively worked out the projectile's flight-path.
"FIRE!"
Hutch pulled the trigger, and visibly jumped as the weapon roared to life. He found himself immediately and incredibly grateful for the dynamic noise-cancelling powers of his helmet's speaker system.
The Hellraiser pulled backwards like a bronco, forcing itself against the hydraulic rams, until its excess kinetic energy was fully expended. The stock retracted slightly on a spring loaded bearing, to prevent the weapon from tearing out Hutch's shoulder.
The General re-acquired his sight picture, exclaiming under his breath as the round impacted.
"Holy--"
Fyrenn pulled out of his dive just in time to see and hear the results of Hutch's shot. As he flew over the top of the perimeter fence at blistering speed, he found himself completely distracted from the sore protestations of his recent injuries.
The round sailed over his head, leaving a distinctive vapor trail that he could chart with his decelerated perceptions. The object continued straight and true, slamming directly into the pavement an inch ahead of the front Javelin's nose-gear tires.
Tarmac material vaporized, cracked, and exploded outwards from a five by six foot, four inch deep crater.
The spray of duracrete and tungsten shrapnel, along with the pure airburst of the impact, peeled the rubber of the wheel away like tissue paper in a hurricane. The aircraft lurched and slowed virtually to a stop as sparks flew from the contact between the wheel rim, and the broken portion of the tarmac.
The second aircraft was immediately forced to brake, given that the relatively small taxiway provided no room for the vehicle to pass its stricken twin, due to the immense wingspan of both craft.
Fyrenn grinned, keeping his eyes fixed on his target as the yards blew past underneath.
"Excellent shot!"
The red Gryphon could easily pick out the frantic faces of the pilot and co-pilot, as they gesticulated and conversed with someone standing out of sight in the cockpit doorway. Seconds later, the whine of the Javelin's engines increased by a factor of ten.
Sparks flew from the destroyed front-wheel in an eight foot high rooster tail of fire. An unearthly screech emanated from the nose-gear as the metal rim bit into the tarmac, tearing into the duracrete as the aircraft forced its way ever closer to the runway through sheer brute thrust alone.
The strategy struck Fyrenn as the act of a desperate coward. Damage to the nose-gear would make a safe landing extremely difficult when the craft reached its destination, particularly given its incredible weight. Despite the fact that the offending wheel could be reached via a maintenance hatch after retraction, and spare tires were kept onboard, there was no guarantee that taxiing on the rim would leave the strut itself unharmed.
As Fyrenn beat his wings to augment his inertia, he glowered, and tapped the side of his helmet.
"Hit the second one!"
A few moments later, another incredibly well-placed round shredded the second Javelin's front tire. The aircraft halted abruptly, and showed no signs of attempting to force its way along in spite of the damage.
Fyrenn reached the stopped craft just as the lead Javelin made the turn onto the runway, and began violently accelerating. The red Gryphon gestured down with one claw as he passed over the top of the second Javelin.
"Kephic! Stan! Sildinar! Handle the static one! Skye; Now would be a good time to scramble the airwaves!"
As Kephic and Stan pulled up short at the front left door of the Javelin, Sildinar dropped to the tarmac, and released Skye. The Unicorn knelt, and her horn sprang to life with a dazzling teal glow.
The energy of her magic arced over and around her body, absorbing itself into the device on her back, which began to glow through a series of white slits, and let out a sharp whine. The group's communication system cut out instantly.
Fyrenn knew that the device had likely shut down every kind of electromagnetic transmission within a three mile radius. It had been one of Alyra's suggestions. A means to prevent any trigger happy enemies from holding the remaining children hostage with a lone stray DaTab.
The red Gryphon altered his angle of intercept slightly, vying to bring himself alongside the swiftly accelerating Javelin as it tore off down the runway in a shower of sparks twenty feet high and thirty feet long.
By forcing himself well beyond his perceived limits, Fyrenn barely managed to come alongside the cockpit. As soon as he was close enough, he began to draft, utilizing the jet's boundary layer to lend him a massive speed boost.
He watched as Neyla performed a similar maneuver on the opposite side of the plane, while Varan threaded the needle between the Javelin's engine exhaust streams, bringing himself directly up behind the hold-access ramp under the tail.
As the craft pulled up into a shallow climb, Fyrenn gave Neyla curt nod.
The two Gryphons tucked their wings, straightened their bodies, and launched themselves forward, gaining several meters over the jet momentarily as they utilized its aerodynamics to provide immense additional thrust to their lunge.
The pair turned in tandem, withdrawing their RACs in the process. In perfect synchronization, they laced the front canopy with a hail of fire. The rounds' velocities combined with the Javelin's forward thrust to lend the bullets exponential piercing power. The reinforced plexiglass shredded instantaneously, with the pilot and co-pilot's heads following suit within a half second.
As Varan rolled upside down under the tail ramp, and affixed a small breaching explosive, Fyrenn and Neyla tucked their wings even further, in staggered sequence. The red Gryphon cannoned into the cockpit first, allowing his fisted claws to mangle the central window strut, in order to make room for his arrival.
He rolled across the tight confines of the compartment and came to an abrupt stop against the far right wall of the chamber, as Neyla breached the space, bringing herself to a stop on the left.
A half-second later Varan's explosive went off, tearing away the mag locks securing the loading ramp in place. With both pilot and co-pilot dead, but the controls set to manual, the shift in weight distribution and aerodynamics increased the Javelin's rate of climb sharply.
The back of the cockpit abruptly became the floor, relative to gravity and acceleration. Fyrenn gestured to the cockpit door, which was more of a trap-door as a result of the climb.
He knew the space of the jet's main cabin could swiftly become a killing field, given that there was barely any room for a Gryphon to maneuver, but plenty of space for a Human to bring a rifle to bear.
"On my count. Three... Two... One..."
With a loud 'CRACK,' Kephic felled the first soldier as he attempted to make his way out of the main access door.
The speckled Gryphon smirked, as he re-trained his rifle, and put a round through the nearest window, severely denting another soldier's helmet. Carradan stood still beside the Gryphon, making added stores of ammunition clips readily available.
The Pegasus snorted, and grinned slightly, shouting to make himself heard over the idle of the engines.
"Ladies and gentlemen! It seems the aircraft is experiencing mechanical issues! We'll have to ask all passengers to deplane at this time. As compensation, we are offering ten free grams of tungsten to anyone willing to visit our resident Gryphon at the ticket counter! This offer is non-negotiable, non-refusable, and illegal in all Earthgov territories, and the state of Wyoming."
A series of shots rang out from the other side of the craft as Sildinar aggressively discouraged the occupants from attempting to use the starboard exit hatch. The roan Gryphon maintained a protective stance between Skye and the craft, ensuring that she would not become a target as the fighting intensified.
An eerie calm descended for nearly ten seconds, before the rear loading ramp unlatched, and began to sweep downwards on its pneumatic pistons. Before Kephic had a chance to pull back and re-position himself, a soft whirring sound split the air.
The corpse of another soldier, his armor black and totally unmarked, slid down the ramp neck first. The man's head was completely missing, including his helmet.
Hutch grimaced as he cycled the Hellraiser's bolt, doing his best to keep the Javelin's rear ramp in his sight picture as he reloaded.
"Kid, the fact that your eye for targets is this good at your age really makes me uncomfortable. And I mean that in the best possible way."
Alyra cracked a terrifying, predatory grin as she made minute adjustments to the direction of her sighting apparatus. She shrugged her wings slightly, and chuckled darkly.
"The first time I had to kill someone? I couldn't even write my name yet. It was hard at first, but after a while I stopped losing as much sleep over it. Bad things happen to evil people, and that's good for everyone else. So what if that bad thing happens to be me?"
The fledgling paused, and narrowed her eyes.
"One half mil up, and one to the left. Wait two seconds, then fire."
Hutch counted off the time silently, then pulled the trigger. The general trusted Alyra's instructions, in spite of the fact that he could not see a target at the designated location. Almost as if by magic, however, a pair of soldiers rushed down the ramp single-file, and directly into the round.
As the shot blew both men's torsos away, ignoring their armor as if it didn't even exist, Hutch whistled, and shook his head.
"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord?' "
Alyra inclined her head, and began seeking a new target, murmuring absently as she did so.
"Sure... Who says I can't be the Lord's errand girl?"
"NOW!"
As Fyrenn kicked in the cabin door, he lashed out with one back paw, hitting the pilot's control stick, and dropping the plane through a stall, into a near-vertical dive. From a relative perspective, gravity shut off, like a light switch had somehow been flicked at the center of the universe.
As he moved into the cabin under the power of his wings, Fyrenn brought time to a near-standstill in order to take in the space.
Four heavily armored troopers were in the process of lifting off the aisle, flailing madly to regain their bearings. The nearest seat to the Gryphon's left was occupied by Councilor Loryss' familiar, yet terrified visage.
Every other seat in the cabin was occupied by a young boy or girl; Some were as old as their mid-teens in Fyrenn's estimation, but none any older than fifteen. Many were as young as age six. All of the seat's occupants were strapped in with five-point safety harnesses. The children's restraints seemed to have been latched together with an added digital RFID-key driven lock.
As his grip on nearly-null time slipped away into a more familiar slow-motion dance of death, Fyrenn spied Varan making his ingress undetected from the rear cargo bay access hatch.
Fyrenn loosed several shots from his RAC, as did Neyla, before the pair were forced to discard the weapons, and switch to their claws, wings, and beaks. The space was too confined for swords, and given the mayhem, it was too dangerous to continue using projectile weapons for fear of hitting one of the children.
The red Gryphon felt the Javelin slip into a dangerous flat-spin as he connected with the first soldier. The man did his best to resist, nearly managing to get off several shots into a weak point in Fyrenn's armor.
The sight of an enraged Gryphon, decorated in the blood of his dead enemies, put the soldier into a state of mortal terror, dispensing with every ounce of his strength, ability to aim, and will to fight.
Fyrenn crushed his neck like an old toilet paper tube.
He spun in the false zero-G environment, and used the man's body as an impromptu added shield. The second soldier unleashed a storm of bullets in his direction, with no regard whatsoever for her chances of murdering one of the nearby children. Fyrenn threw the corpse of his first enemy like a boulder, knocking the woman's rifle out of her hands, and pinning her to the wall.
One swift, silent flick of his talons later, and her lifeless body sported four new breathing holes. As Fyrenn turned to survey the remaining hostiles, he realized that Varan and Neyla had already made short work of them.
A momentary pause ensued, surprisingly filled only with the whine of the Javelin's engines.
Fyrenn's mind immediately turned to the vehicle's fatal spin, and dive. He launched himself towards the cockpit, gesturing at Loryss emphatically.
"Make sure she stays PUT!"
Kephic peered angrily into the Javelin's windows as he leapt gracefully onto the left wing. He narrowed his eyes, and gestured for Carradan to follow. As soon as the Pegasus arrived, the speckled Gryphon replenished his magazine, and removed two incendiary grenades from the Pony's saddle-rack.
"There are no children on this craft. And I'm tiring of whack-a-vole."
Carradan raised a hoof, and crinkled his muzzle.
"That's whack-a *mole,* ace. So what's your play?"
Kephic calmly pulled the pin from each grenade, allowing his rifle to fall away, and taking caution to keep the spoons depressed.
Stan winced, and stepped back.
"Ah. So it's going to be like that."
The Gryphon shouted over the top of the plane, to ensure Sildinar would hear.
"I'M GOING IN! BE PREPARED TO CUT OFF THEIR EXIT ROUTE ON YOUR SIDE!"
Without further ado, Kephic leapt across the intervening space to the left-side entry door, pinwheeling one hundred and eighty degrees around the frame as he threw the grenades. One went straight into the cockpit, the other down the center aisle of the main cabin.
The Gryphon folded his wings, and maintained his impromptu dive, passing straight out the right side door of the plane, and snapping them open again to achieve a brief glide. Carradan leapt from the wing, and backed away quickly on the left side.
Soldiers dove frantically out all exits of the aircraft. A gaggle came pouring down the cargo ramp at the rear, and were immediately bathed in a blinding white light, and fatal heat, as a phosphorous round tore into the tightly packed formation.
Two aggressors foolishly tried to accost Sildinar, but found themselves physically relieved of their heads, via gleaming sword blade, before they could even raise their tactical knives.
After a brief pause, a group of uniformed officers dove from the starboard exit door, hands held high over their heads in a gesture of surrender. Sildinar closed swiftly with the group, forcing them to their knees and beginning an aggressive search to ensure the four men were unarmed.
As the Javelin shook, and roared, a final soldier made a daring escape out the left side of the aircraft. Flames punctured every window of the jet, and the nose blew apart entirely. As a result, the forward gear collapsed, and the entire plane simply fell apart into several large, burning chunks.
The lone remaining armored man offered Stan a smirk, unwisely deciding that the stocky pink Pegasus presented little to no threat.
Before the soldier could even raise his rifle, Carradan let out a war cry worthy of any major league linebacker. The Pegasus cannoned into the man with such speed, that he lost his rifle in the resulting impact, and his chest plate partially shattered.
The pair came to rest painfully close to the Javelin's burning fuel tanks. As the man attempted to reach for his tactical knife, Carradan wailed on him furiously with his front hooves.
Under the vicious onslaught, the soldier's helmet flew clean off, allowing the Pegasus to easily pummel the aggressor into unconsciousness. Carradan snorted, and gave the man a near-fatal buck to the neck with his back legs, for good measure.
He glanced up to see Kephic gazing on with a stunned, but admiring expression.
The Pegasus shrugged, and smiled.
"Scratch one vole."
"Why are we still falling?"
Though Neyla's voice was relatively calm, her eyes betrayed an inner sense of concern. The Gryphons were free to escape the falling craft at any time, without risking their lives. But given the number of children on board, such a course would be a death sentence for dozens, even if all three Gryphons loaded themselves to maximum gliding capacity.
Fyrenn had since ripped out the pilot's seat, and corpse, throwing them into the companionway behind him to give himself room to sit on his haunches in front of the controls. The air was permeated with the whistle of wind through the broken canopy, and the blaring of a dozen alarms.
"We're in a flat stall and a slight left spin. That's a hell of a thing to recover from, and even if we do? The nose-gear is showing six different structural warnings. We'll be lucky not to break up on touchdown."
Neyla wrestled momentarily with the co-pilot's chair and body, then took up a cramped position in his vacated slot.
"What can I do?"
"Gear is up. Gear is up. Spin. Spin. Spin. Stall. Stall. Stall. Terrain Warning. Terrain Warning. Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"
Fyrenn glowered, gritting his beak as he wrestled with the control stick, and the throttle.
"Well you can start by shutting that thing up."
Neyla perked one ear, following the sound as the staccato female voice of the plane's AI rattled off another round of warnings. The Gryphoness quickly located the hidden speakers, and delivered a metal-shattering punch to the housings with both fisted claws, cutting off both the voice, and the alarms.
"Done. Next?"
Fyrenn gestured to the central control panel, and throttle quadrant.
"Manage the flaps and spoilers. They work just like the inner-edge primaries on your wing. I need you to react to changes in our speed, and angle of attack, to try and get that latter one back into the right sweet spot. If we can annul the spin, we can recover from the stall relatively easily!"
Neyla nodded, and placed her left claw on the appropriate control levers.
Fyrenn pressed hard on the rudders, and jerked the stick gently, but firmly into the spin. The Javelin's wide, long, flat airframe protested mightily as the torsional stress threatened to damage structural supports, and hydraulic control systems.
The red Gryphon winced reflexively as he noted that the craft had less than twenty more seconds of flight time left in its fall before there would be no room left for a recovery maneuver.
He said a silent prayer of thanks for whatever mechanism kept his eyes guarded against the powerful vortex of air pouring through the wrecked windscreen, and a quick plea for safety. Under his ministrations, slowly but surely, the craft began to correct its spin, gradually levelling out into a straight high-angle stall.
He waggled the control stick and rudder gently to restore some turbulent air-flow to the wings, before slamming the stick all the way forward.
Neyla's eyes widened, and she tensed involuntarily, shooting Fyrenn a concerned glance.
He grinned wryly, and held the stick inwards, compounding the terror of the situation by shoving the throttle to the max-thrust position.
"Trust me! My dad was a pilot!"
The Gryphoness raised an eyebrow as the darkness of the Skyport rushed towards them at half the speed of sound.
"Have YOU ever flown before?!"
Fyrenn nodded, and began to gently pull back on the stick, willing the plane to remain structurally intact as the maneuver began to bend the wings past their max stated tolerance points.
The red Gryphon grit his beak even tighter, reflexively flaring his wings slightly as he willed the Javelin to gain lift faster.
"I logged almost two thousand hours in the academy simulator!"
Neyla's eyes widened further, and her voice developed a worried, slightly frustrated edge.
"Simulator?!"
Fyrenn winced, and continued to delicately tweak the controls, his ears flattened to the top of his head by the force of the wind through the window.
"You should get out now! Take Varan with you! Only one of us needs to risk this!"
A sharp glower told Fyrenn that the chances of the Gryphoness following his instructions were slimmer than a snowball's chance in hell. He inclined his head, and smiled slightly.
"Well... Of the ways I can imagine dying? This one certainly is guaranteed to leave a mark!"
Fyrenn tilted his head, and went all out, pulling the stick back as far as it would go, and abandoning subtlety entirely.
"This is going to be very very CLOSE!"
The ground was so near, that he could pick out individual imperfections in the individual grains of the duracrete forming the runway. At last, the Javelin began to move more in a forward direction than downward. The change brought a massive influx of lift, and the craft spiked upwards, forcing Fyrenn to release the pressure on the stick or risk another, fatal stall.
He hissed as the craft crossed over the boundary fence with mere millimeters to spare, the belly of the jet scraping against the barbed wire ever-so-slightly. Instantaneously, the red Gryphon's primary concern became finding a survivable flight path.
Though the areas leading into and out of valid traffic patterns were clear of tall buildings, as per safety regulations, the Javelin was on anything-but a valid traffic path.
A pair of skyscrapers loomed large, and Fyrenn reflexively did the only thing he could. He rammed the stick left, holding the rudder steady, and keeping the throttle locked in afterburn-position to maintain precious lift.
The Javelin spun on its centerline axis, threading the street-width space between the buildings, and pulling into a knife-edge bank turn towards clear skies. As the craft at last leveled off, Fyrenn finally exhaled, and began to shake his head slowly.
"I think the Aviation Administration might be slightly unhappy about this."
Neyla exhaled as well, and chuckled grimly, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sit back slightly.
"What are they going to do? Ask us nicely to avoid flying for a few weeks? Tell them they can get in line, behind everyone else who wants to kill us, fine us, jail us, or banish us. At this point it must be an impressive list."
Fyrenn inclined his head, and sighed.
"Well. We still have to land this thing... And there's a great chance we'll die doing that too."
Neyla tilted her head, and rotated her ears thoughtfully.
"I have a less risky plan."
Fyrenn chuckled as he let off the throttle, and drooped his beak and ears in a faux pouty expression.
"You just love to take the fun out of these moments, don't you?"
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"This landing is going to be pretty interesting!"
"Define 'Interesting'..."
Does quantum computers/phones exist in this world?
5291201
"Oh God, Oh God, we're all gonna die...?"
5291748
Quantum computing exists at a basic level. It is part of what makes such sophisticated AI possible. It has not been miniaturized in any useful way however, meaning that if you want to access that sort of computing power on a smaller device, you use the cloud.
Since it exists on an even spread, however, no one has a particular advantage over anyone else in using it.