Chapter 57
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
April 7th, Gregorian Calendar
"We've entered the inner portion of the ECM blanket. Time to target is twenty seven seconds."
Fyrenn cast a glance first at Lantry, then at the telemetry officer who had spoken. The CIC was surprisingly calm, but the room's occupants knew that would change in a matter of moments. The four Gryphons, both Ponies, and Lantry had opted to ride out the battle in the Combat Information Center rather than the bridge, for two reasons.
Firstly, Orik's right arm was still in a nano-cast, and everyone had thought it wise to keep him and Fyrenn separated. Secondarily, the room was more of a strategic command center, affording a better glimpse of the overall battlefield, and the resources to make split-second decisions and commands if necessary.
The space was deeply familiar to Fyrenn, mostly as a result of his cross-training in surface warfare technology and tactics. Dark, low-slung, and long, the room was filled to bursting with screens suspended from flexible armatures.
Each of the officers' chairs was a veritable cornucopia of smaller adjustable panels, physical toggle switches, and a multi function display touchscreen, in addition to the bevy of controls on their actual workstations.
Fyrenn reached over the side of the central holotank, and pulled a spare headset from a magnetically attached container. He placed the device into and over his right ear, running the microphone down towards the right side of his beak.
He listened as Orik's voice came over first the PA, then the main operations channel.
"Combat alert. All hands to action stations. Helm, flush ballast tanks and prepare for breaching. Weapons; Pre-spin all VLS racks, and load all gun platforms. Place high-explosive ship-killing warheads into the torpedo reload pool and standby for a kill-track."
Fyrenn traded glances with each member of the group in turn, as a flurry of activity and orders overtook the room. He nodded towards the nearest empty chairs and hand-holds.
"Brace yourselves. And cover your ears."
Making good on his own advice, the red Gryphon firmly took hold of the railing surrounding the central holotank, casting a reassuring glance at the Tactical Actions Officer, before fixing his gaze on the telemetry readouts.
"TAO, Weapons, Spin twenty Mahesh KKMD warheads and prepare a reload pool. Prepare two anti-ship torpedoes with high-ex config in the fore tubes. Load all guns and prepare for rapid-cycle refire."
The officer inclined his head, and to Fyrenn's surprise, spoke directly to him.
"Do me the favor of comparing notes. I hear you cross-trained in my field... And you were bridge-side during the first engagement."
Fyrenn inhaled slowly, then gestured with one claw to illustrate, as he spoke.
"The Agincourt is slung low in the water. The Island structure looks like it was based off a shortened version of a heavy destroyer, and the hull is extremely low-profile in surface combat mode. They used that to their advantage to put heavy seas between our guns, and their hull."
The red Gryphon paused to collect his thoughts, then continued swiftly and concisely.
"From what I could see out the window, in terms of how many of our missiles hit, out of the bunch, they have at least as much AI processing power to devote to countermeasures as we do... If not more. Factor that into your strategy. Be prepared for a massive return-fire salvo. Their warheads are low intensity, but tend to impact in deadly concurrent clusters."
The TAO nodded, and began gesturing to his personnel, each in turn, as he barked out more specific commands. A series of klaxons began to sound, and the deck pitched gently as the ship began to rise.
"Main guns, load and prepare to receive targeting data. Lock stabilizer gyros and co-ordinate firing cycle with athwartships thruster controls. Configure for a high-arc attack. Missile-Ops; Load twenty Kilo-Type Mahesh into the VLS tubes with high dispersal config, and enter twenty ditto into reload pool. Assign central AI cluster to tracking operations and target assignment."
The man turned to face an officer at the rear of the compartment as he continued.
"Zone control; Place Helios guns and sea-whizz in anti-missile mode, coordinate with fire control ops to apportion AI targeting processor cycles for anti-air coverage."
The ship began to vibrate in a low, steady frequency range as it approached the surface.
"Breaching in three... Two... One... Surfacing complete!"
The North Carolina shook and lurched as the hull forced its way past the surface of the ocean, prow slicing through the waves like an immense knife.
"EMCON Condition broken, active LADAR and targeting modules online! Standby for kill-tracks!"
Varan grit his beak, and glowered down at the holotank as it gradually filled with sparse telemetric data.
"This may not go precisely as planned..."
"TAO, Bridge; Kill track four eight nine! All batteries, all launch tubes!"
The majority of the North Carolina's first gun salvo missed. The ship was still rocking violently as a result of its surfacing action. The water beneath the craft churned like a whirlpool, agitated from its normal blue-green hue to a white angry froth.
The first volley of missiles, however, went out flawlessly. Though most were swiftly cut down by defensive fire from the Agincourt, a few scored glancing hits on the Arsenal Ship's outer armor layers.
The enemy vessel lay at the extreme range of the North Carolina's viable telemetry bubble, which was reduced to a mere two kilometers inside the ECM blanket. The Battleship rolled slightly, but rapidly stabilized as the navigation AI made careful adjustments to the athwartships thruster banks.
Almost immediately the main gun batteries began to fire in swift staggered volley cycles. The muzzle flash was so bright, that it lit up the lower side of the low hanging cloud cover. The effect was visible for miles in every direction.
The sound reverberated endlessly to the horizon; Each echoing roar was superseded by the sound of a new round leaving a muzzle before it had even begun to die away.
In spite of its best efforts to evade, the Agincourt took several major hits to the upper rear quarter of the hull. The Arsenal ship responded by unleashing a hailstorm of missiles. The better part of two hundred warheads spewed forth from both fore and aft decks, streaking out across the sea on low-angle trajectories, making them harder to track and destroy.
The tangle of smoke trails was reminiscent of a silken spider's web.
The Battleship threw out a nearly-solid barrier of smaller tungsten rounds. The air turned hot and sour with streams of white-hot tracer material. Warheads went up all around the ship's inner defensive perimeter, adding clouds of dark thick smoke, and brief fireballs, to the incomprehensible fray.
Though nearly a quarter of the warheads found their way to the North Carolina's outer hull, the Battleship's aggressive angle relative to the incoming trajectories increased the relative thickness of its armor belts.
Helios and sea-whizz fire intensified, turning the sky above the vessel orange with a veritable solid wall of molten tungsten. The air itself seemed to be alive with smoke, deafening sound compression waves, and omnipresent vapor trails.
The battle only intensified as the Columbia rose from the depths, disgorging its own withering screen of missiles and railgun fire, before the spray had even subsided from her passage. The destroyer had arrived slightly out of position, flanking the Agincourt rather than appearing directly to its stern.
The Arsenal ship was immediately forced to split both its effective fire, and its defensive gun cordon. The Agincourt spun in place and pulled slightly beneath the surface to offer its hull an added layer of protection.
As the Columbia, and the North Carolina closed at full speed, the Agincourt turned tail and bolted at full thrust, tossing missiles backwards over its island structure almost as an afterthought.
"Reaching surface in five... Four... Three... Two... One! Standby for clear launch path!"
The Indianapolis' inner vehicle bay filled with an almost unbearable whine. The deafening sound of turboprops spinning up was magnified a thousand fold by the confined metallic space. The lead VTOL's pilot kept one hand firmly on the throttle quadrant, and the other welded to his flight stick.
The vehicle's occupants rocked in their harnesses as the destroyer shot up at a forty-five degree angle, and began to buck and roll as it pierced the surface. The forward bay doors began to open almost immediately, allowing a brief deluge of seawater to drench the LSO, the VTOLs' canopies, and most of the decking.
The LSO fought to maintain a standing position. Though his safety harness kept him literally bolted to the compartment wall, it did very little to help him maintain balance overall. The man's voice came over the flight crew's headsets.
"Standby for clear launch path! Begin your throttle-up!"
The pilot nodded, and slowly eased the throttle lever towards its stops, gently allowing the automated prop-rotation control to move a series of secondary levers. The Co-pilot squinted at the instruments, then intervened manually for a brief moment, altering the pitch control the tiniest bit with a paper-light touch.
"Clear-forward on my mark... Three... Two... One... MARK!"
With an echoing series of muffled 'CLANK's the VTOLs' skids were released from their magnetic deck clamps. The craft shot forward in a line formation, with barely four feet of clearance between each vehicle, and less than half of that between their rotor tips and the bay doors.
Within two seconds, the harrowing ordeal of a 'hot launch,' was over. The Pilot began to aggressively scan the skies for unfriendly contacts as he dipped and pulled left to afford the other two craft room to maneuver.
To his surprise, however, nothing untoward crossed his visual sight picture, nor his LADAR screen.
"Viper two, Viper one, Come left zero-two-three and provide flanking cover with doorguns."
"Roger. Viper two coming left."
"Surfacing complete! No sign of primary combat target!"
The LADAR officer squinted into his scope, his brow furrowing as he searched for signs of the Retribution, to no avail. The man turned to glance at the CO, and tapped his screen.
"I am picking up the platform though. We're a bit out of position; It looks like they may have moved it slightly. Assault target is one point two klicks north north-east of our position, bearing zero-four-three true, zero-zero-eight relative. Still hugging up against the barrier."
The Indianapolis' Captain turned to his XO and nodded curtly.
"Dispatch strike VTOLs. Assign all guns to aerial defense cover. Status of the battlegroup?"
The comms officer shook his head slowly.
"No communications. As expected. The Barrier is making the ECM effect worse in our vicinity, useful telemetry range has been reduced to sight-lines only."
The LADAR officer peered at his scope for several seconds, manipulating the controls on his panel deftly, before inclining his head.
"I can't say much from these readings, except that there is definitely heavy combat in progress to our west, five kliks out. The impact flares are powerful enough to cut through the jamming. They do seem to be headed this way though."
The XO stepped to the port side bridge wing, and leaned into the lookout's scope. He held his position for several moments, only glancing up briefly as the sound of rotors filled the air. The man made his way back inside as three light VTOLs dipped low over the sea, pulling away to the north at full speed.
"The North Carolina is definitely engaged. The horizon looks like a fireworks show all the way from our relative port to our relative fore bearings."
The Captain's eyes narrowed, and he nodded slowly, examining the room's central holotank, before gesturing with his right hand.
"Deploy mines and depth charges. Standard golf-pattern spread. Assign the last VTOL to anti-submarine operations, and load torpedo mounts with sound-seeking fast attack warheads. That thing is out there somewhere, and I don't intend to be caught with our pants down."
"Adjust main batteries zero-point-two degrees port! Cut off their escape vectors and keep forcing them to the south-east!"
Fyrenn squinted down at the holotank, and tilted his head to the side as a flurry of commands made their way around the room.
"Adjust effective-fire zero-point-two degrees port! Aye!"
"Re-tasking VLS tubes one thru five to impact enemy on relative-port quarter!"
The red Gryphon glanced up at Lantry, then left to Neyla, and Skye. Varan and Kephic pulled in closer, and their change in expression told Fyrenn everything he needed to know. Lantry voiced the general line of thought, on behalf of the group.
"This doesn't look right."
Carradan raised an eyebrow and his ears twitched nervously.
"Hehe... Uh... Care to enlighten us less-tactical plebes?"
Fyrenn gestured in a circular motion with one claw, encompassing the entire holographic display.
"Why turn and run so quickly? We outmatch them numerically, but they have several distinct advantages. I would have expected them to try for something more complex, or clever, in terms of maneuvering. And where is the submarine? If there are no telemetric or visual signs of engagement at the platform... Then why isn't it here? Firing on us?"
Stan blanched, and gulped.
"Oh man... Dad always said the smooth route was the one with the best places for ambush..."
Lantry sighed, and shook his head, tensing as the ship rocked from another series of largely ineffective impacts.
"I can only see one reason for this kind of behavior. They want to force us to follow them."
The General tapped the side of his headset, and cupped one hand to his earpiece.
"Bridge, CIC! Break off pursuit!"
After a pause, Orik's voice came over the main operations channel.
"What the hell are you---"
A cacophony of sound and motion overtook the chamber. The deck heaved and pitched wildly, and the air filled with the groan of stressed steel. Neyla reached out with one wing, and caught Skye as the Unicorn flew back towards a support strut.
As the ship began to settle, the TAO pulled himself into a standing position, and shouted.
"REPORT!"
"We've struck a mine!"
"Outer hull is breached on deck four, bulkhead bravo!"
"Torpedos inbound! Port and starboard!"
"Agincourt has focused their main missile batteries on Columbia!"
"The Columbia has been hit, and the island structure is on fire!!"
"Viper one, Viper three, What do you make of the objects on the platform, to your starboard, at about zero-one-five true?"
The VTOL's Pilot gazed through the right side of the cockpit canopy, squinting down at the distant silhouette of the retarder platform. The object looked more or less like a deep sea hydrothermal drilling rig, and was designed off the same base chassis.
A disc-shaped wide central platform with a central toroidal cut-out dominated the shape of the construct. Above that rested a smaller cylindrical tower housing cooling stacks and a control room. Below lay a series of girders which ended underwater in hydrofoil-like fins and position-keeping thrusters.
A glowing cylindrical object, encased in reinforced titanium bars and struts, lay directly in the center of the main disc, suspended by a symmetrical group of armatures. At last, the VTOL's Pilot spotted the strange objects his wingman had pointed out. The man barely had time to comprehend the meaning of the sight, before his world was set ablaze.
"BREAK! BREAK! Local airspace is hot! Abort approach!"
The officer pulled back on his stick and rammed both feet into the left rudder pedal. But it was too little, too late. The sun-like flash of L-RAC fire from the central disc of the platform cast Viper flight's more immediate concerns into sharp relief.
CIWSS guns were bolted to the platform's extreme edge with heavy duty magnetic clamps, affording them an unobstructed field of fire. Each weapon was driven by a small AI module, and the entire cluster was cross-linked for efficiency of combined focus-fire.
The weapons' operators had wisely waited until the VTOL flight was well within their sphere of short-range effective fire, before powering the guns, both large and small. The latter trash-can shaped objects popped from their armored enclosures, swiveled into position, and unleashed a hellish torment of metal.
The incident was over almost before it had even begun. Even as the long-range artillery continued cycling, uninterrupted, the sea-whizz defensive guns turned the three VTOLs into three rapidly expanding clouds of dust.
"What in the--"
The port side lookout squinted in the direction of the platform's silhouette. He returned his eyes to his scope, and finally began to comprehend the meaning of the flashes in the distance.
"INCOMING FIRE!!!"
The left side of the ship's island structure vaporized almost instantly under the force of the assault. The thunderous sound of the impact mixed with the distant muzzle reports of L-RAC gun carriages.
Indianapolis rocked back, and to port, her deck taking on a dangerous list in the process.
The starboard lookout managed to regain his feet, and and force his head into his scope, just in time to see the assault VTOLs disintegrate under a withering hail of CIWSS fire. Seconds later, another vicious round of impacts hit home.
The top of the island structure was instantly reduced to a flaming mess. Twisted hulking chunks of metal flew up and out in all directions, effectively decapitating the ship where it sat.
"Targets locked. Port side main engine thrust nozzle. Central keel buttress. Main VLS magazine access port. Starboard side water garage. Ready to fire!"
The Retribution's Captain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He pressed a thumb under his safety harness and wiggled, to relieve some of the pressure. The Vessel's near-vertical orientation necessitated the measures.
The man stared up at the hulking gray shape on his viewscreen, and nodded curtly, eyes narrowing.
"Fire at will!"
A series of dull hisses and thuds heralded the exodus of a torpedo barrage from the submarine's front weapon bays. The Captain watched in anticipation as water trails filled his forward scope. Several seconds later, the warheads impacted the dark mass above the Retribution, reducing it almost instantly to a fiery coolant slick, laced with traces of debris and bodies.
The LADAR officer nodded slowly, and craned his neck down and around to glance at the Captain.
"Kill confirmed. Indianapolis destroyed."
The North Carolina shook again as another mine detonated nearby, rocking the ship to starboard and imparting a semi-permanent list to the angle of the deck. Lantry shouted into his headset, all sense of decorum abandoned.
"HELM! HARD OVER TO PORT AND SUBMERGE NOW!"
Fyrenn tensed as a bright flash darted across the edge of the main LADAR display. A moment later, frantic reports came over the comm.
"BRIDGE, STARBOARD LOOKOUT; INDIANAPOLIS HAS BEEN DESTROYED!"
The words produced a far stronger emotional response than Fyrenn would have predicted. The loss of life was angering and upsetting enough in and of itself. More poignant, however, was the fact that the ship had been the only home he had known for years at a time.
Though it had been years since he'd even set foot on the deck, the loss of the ship left him choked for words. Any attempt at dealing with the roiling anger and pain in his gut was abruptly cut short by a series of alarms, followed swiftly by a loud and discomfiting detonation.
"Bogey! Bogey! Enemy vessel has launched TWO airborne hostile contacts!"
The LADAR officer blanched, and nodded.
"Confirmed! Reading two Lancet Fighter-Bombers, Cherubs four off the deck, making low passes with short-range airburst ordinance!"
The North Carolina rocked once more, and an unsettling groan echoed through the compartment.
Fyrenn found himself helping the TAO to his feet. The man looked dazed, and sported an enormous gash on his head. The red Gryphon lifted the officer off the deck and deposited him firmly into an empty seat, cinching the five point harness down over him tightly.
As Kephic scooped up Stan, to keep him stable, Varan extended a wing to help Neyla keep Skye on a level plane.
Fyrenn turned to the officers at the front of the CIC, and began barking commands almost reflexively.
"Countermeasures out! Fore and aft! Launch all torpedoes in-tube, and place chaff-dispensing warheads into the reload pool! Re-task VLS to cover for Columbia to retreat, and focus main batteries on Agincourt's island structure! All torpedo tubes fire at will until we're under!"
Lantry managed to regain a balanced stance as the ship fully righted itself, and continued issuing commands through his headset.
"EMCON One! Radio silence and low-emission configuration as soon as the chaff barrier is out!"
The ship pitched forward violently, and shuddered as the embrace of the sea produced immense compression forces against the outer hull. A series of dull thuds heralded the dispensation of chaff-bearing torpedos.
Fyrenn gestured with a claw, and elevated the volume of his command to ensure there would be no misunderstanding.
"Secure all active emission telemetry systems!"
He toggled his headset to a shipwide channel, and dug into the decking with his claws.
"Brace positions! Brace positions! Secure for breaches and outer hull damage!"
North Carolina shuddered in an unsettling manner. The deck twisted awkwardly, and the sound of screeching metal intensified to terrifying levels. Fyrenn grit his beak, and curved his claws into the deck hard enough to perforate the metal.
Varan and Neyla remained clamped to the nearest bulkhead struts, securing Skye between them. Kephic did his best to juggle Lantry and Stan, but found the task awkward as a result of the Pegasus' greater mass.
Fyrenn reached out with one claw and one wing to relieve the speckled Gryphon of Lantry's weight. The General gulped, and leaned back into the feathery red impromptu acceleration cushion.
All at once, the bedlam came to a halt. The deck evened out, the screeching of the metal subsided, and several of the more concerning alarms automatically shut off.
Lantry sighed, and extricated himself slowly from his crash position. He shot Fyrenn a slight smile by way of thanks, before striding over to the TAO.
Fyrenn turned to verify that Skye and Carradan were intact, smiling as comfortingly as he could under the circumstances. The Unicorn returned the smile, and dipped her head between her front legs, breathing heavily to control a mild onset of nausea.
Cardan smiled wryly, then did a double-take. He pointed with one hoof towards Fyrenn's crest, and raised an eyebrow.
"Is that what I think it is, lover boy?"
Fyrenn glowered, and hissed briefly.
"Can it. In case you missed it? This is not exactly the time for that discussion."
The Pegasus nodded slowly, and glared with a stern, but friendly expression.
"Yeah, yeah... But don't you think you're gonna weasel out of it altogether."
An angry, forceful voice came over the intercom. Orik's words instantly put Lantry on edge.
"Just what the *hell* did you do?! You are NOT in command of this ship, and---"
Fyrenn snatched the headset from Lantry's ear, and held it to the side of his beak.
"Sure. And neither were you, given that half the ship was about to be blown all to bits, and you weren't doing one single thing about it! You want to tell him off, you go right ahead and come down here. But don't count on keeping your arm this time."
The red Gryphon threw the communication device to the deck, and crushed it mercilessly beneath one back paw, glowering and crossing his forelegs. Lantry shook his head slowly, and sighed.
"You know... Not that I don't appreciate the solidarity... But your social skills are really suffering from your lack of sleep. Your stress release techniques need some work."
Neyla interjected before Fyrenn could reply, glancing up at the roof of the compartment as a shuddering groan passed through the Battleship's superstructure. The Gryphoness shifted her gaze to the central holotank, and winced as the ship's wireframe blinked red across several important structural braces.
"More pressingly, our current situation is in need of 'some work.' "
Varan snorted, and shook his head, muttering.
"And they say *I'm* a master of understatement..."
Stats
Page generated in 0.064 seconds
Total duration
920 users online
1,105,511 hits today, 1,822,946 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.®
5312014
The only reason he should be doing that is if he considers his position a weak one. If he does, that speaks volumes about his character...
Wait, I'm not talking about taking on and killing the members of e12, I'm talking specifically about first deliberately provoking and then attacking, during a moment of complete control and relative safety, an unarmed human incapable of retaliating in a similar manner. Especially after said human put his entire ship, his people, his command and his own career on the line to help Fyrenn in the first place.
Massive dick move.
Maiming Orik is just plain torture without cause or provocation, and without result. His moral code in this case is faulty - not for breaking Orik's arm, but for breaking Orik's arm after deliberately causing the man lose control when a simple loss of face would have been more than enough. He broke Orik's arm not to teach Orik a lesson, but because he wanted to break Orik's arm.
This is the whole issue with your gryphons full stop. Not complaining, just agreeing.
Actually I'm surprised that the gryphon nation en masse hasn't realized that hate begets more hate.
The only mentality I'm seeing is a complete lack of tact, empathy and appropriate levels of response.
Then Sildinar should 'man up' and be the father figure he so clearly needs to be for a youngster who has no control. If he knows Fyrenn is doing wrong, then it is his duty to prevent that wrong. If he doesn't think Fyrenn is doing wrong, then he, too, lacks empathy, tact and and appreciation for appropriate levels of response.
Depending how much they fear Fyrenn vicious response modes, and how much they hate/despite Orik, yeah.
If I was Lantry, I'd be busy composing a missive in my head about how the gryphons are a liability almost as much as they are an asset, and I would be seriously questioning their suitability for a great number of situations.
I'd expect she is saddened to see that a converted gryphon is basically equally (or, this case, perhaps more) capable of losing human compassion, when she may have hoped for the reverse. Steel is no good until tempered.
Oh, sure, but then you've got to look at the narrative from the outside to appreciate the issue here: dragons acting like assholes don't then expect you, the viewer, to laud them for it. Dragons do what they want because they can, not because they think they've got some externally granted permission, it's what makes them such enigmatic characters,
You know I've never really watched 24?
5312298
That? Oh yeah absolutely. Born of stress, anger, and massive massive exhaustion coupled with a natural predator's temper. No defending it, but it does give us great insight into his darker aspect. It does also teach the valuable lesson that you should never let someone with larger talons than you bait you.
Well not really torture per-se. Remember this in the context of future medical technology; He can be made whole in a matter of moments, and that includes removing the pain.
Sure. And that's the ugly side of the Gryphon mindset; We do not play well with others under duress. Orik tried to give Fyrenn a proverbial time-out, only to learn that he isn't qualified to parentaly police him, mainly because he lacks the capacity to not get this arm snapped in half when he says something offensive.
Is that kind of dickish? Sure. But is that also too-often how the real world works? Yep.
Oh aye, and keep that firmly in mind for the last book, because one of the central issues of the last book is going to revolve around Gryphons having to fight this problem and work to begin to find ways to overcome it. And we'll see that avatarized specifically in Fyrenn's maturation process.
If much of the latter half of this book represents Fyrenn's 'dark night of the soul,' and even a fall from grace, then the last book represents the hero's final epic struggle to rise to new and better heights, and mature.
Many of these events are designed to set-up your understanding of the emotional/mental conflicts still to come.
They are aware, they just usually have the power to put a complete end to the opposing party, and that's why they often do. In short; They've realized hate breeds more hate, but their solution is, rather than abandon hate, to simply wipe out everyone who hates them, or hates those under their protection, wholesale.
Hate, they reason, can not breed more hate if the thing you hate, that then hates you back, is all dead and gone.
Might doesn't make right, but it does make the victor. This mentality has begun to slowly swing to a more moderate, tempered, viable mindset (largely thanks to Ponies), but cultural divides and deep rooted historical hate retard that process.
This is the main reason Celestia is so disappointed with Fyrenn; She sees him, and human->Gryphon converts like him, as the best hope to catalyze a stronger, swifter change for the better.
Exactly; Pure focus on winning the war, all else be damned. This is why Gryphons make the best conquerors, and protectors even, but the worst traders, and diplomats.
Because of the way Gryphon age works, a better analogy would be that of Sildinar as an older and wiser brother, but your point still stands. This is Sildinar's failing here, though it isn't a large one in Gryphic terms, because in Gryphic terms no wrong has been done. Only a less-right.
That is a perfect single-sentence description for Gryphons' weaknesses as relates to other species.
They don't fear that Fyrenn would harm them, and rightly so, because no Gryphon would harm someone they have a pre-existing strong relationship with, unless deeply provoked. Skye and Stan have no intention of provoking Fyrenn, and no reason to, so they are completely safe.
Moving forward, this is indeed an extremely serious issue facing the Earthgov military.
Couldn't have said it better myself. Thus the main character-arc for Fyrenn in the last book is the question of whether or not he will rise to the challenge, and thus find true symbiosis of human and Gryphic spirit to create a better Gryphic spirit, and thus ultimately set the tone for the future.
And therein you hit the main point I wanted everyone to get; That we should *not* be lauding Fyrenn for his actions and attitude here, or at least, not the majority of them. We should be booing him soundly for missing some golden opportunities to rise above his lesser-nature. His actions are most definitely not meant to be taken as good things. Though I do still want people to partially empathize, because I believe we're all capable of the same depths of foolishness deep-down.
And Gryphons do what they believe is just, because they have a hard-wired internal mandate that they believe was given them by an external power, and they sometimes do this at the expense of what is truly *right.* They're not so enigmatic, but they're definitely scary.
They are an allegory for those times when we get so caught up in a specific culture, religion, set of laws, etc, that we exclude empathy, mercy, grace, and love. Sure we may be much better adherents to the moral code, or culturel moire, or legal precedent... But what have we truly gained?
On the reverse you have the Ponies, who allegorize those who get so caught up in love and empathy, that they are willing to abandon morality and legality(albeit on very subtle levels) in the interests of 'friendship.'
Orly?
Well, I enjoyed the first and second seasons immensely. The third began to sag a bit for me, so I haven't watched any recently, but that may be from pure overdose on the same show.
If you like a good conspiracy suspense-thriller, and can stand watching 90s-style butchering of forensics and computer science, then give it a whirl. Jack Bauer is one of the many many inspirations for Fyrenn, from whence Fyrenn gets his 'take no prisoners' side.
5310212
What really bothers me the most, though, is the human bashing that goes on. I don't know if it's the genre or what, but some of the things that have been happening in the fic recently (what with the "GRYPHONS CAN WIN A WAR WITH HYOUSMANS! THE APES WOULD BE CRUSH-ED!") have peeved me enough to put down my phone, and purposely avoid Fimfic for a while in order to get my head straight.
It's not like I expect the humans to completely crush the Gryphons or anything, 'cause I'm not party to Equestrian species-bashing either. I guess it reminds me too much of what goes on in other Conversion fics, which tend to bring out the worst in both human and Equestrian bashing. (Can't help but think about how racist calling everything from the ponies' plane of existence "Equestrian" is, considering Equestria is only one nation among many. Aaaaaand now I'm imagining the ponies referring to humans as "Americans," "American species," and "Everyamerican.") It is at this moment that all this comment amounts to is a hissyfit about headcanon that's not even related to canon, if you exempt the whole "Equestrians are racist," thing. Damnit, next thing I know I'll be driving down to Ferguson yelling "Screw the police!" the whole way.
ENJOYED MUCHFORDS. IT WAS JUST AS SAUSAGE WEENERS AS WE DID EXPECTED. -Fantabuloso
5314000
I honestly can't even figure out where to begin with this one, so I choose not to even engage it. Some 'conversations' are just not worth it.