To Land Among the Stars

Chapters

Chapter 2: Orbital Operations
Chapter 3: Dealing with Darkness
Chapter 4: Something on the Horizon
Chapter 5: Sweet Apple Acres
Chapter 6: Trial and Error
Chapter 7: A Caveat
Chapter 8: Fatal Flaw
Chapter 9: Several Reasonable Discussions
Chapter 10: Logistics
Chapter 11: The Coin Toss
Chapter 1: A Modestly Outrageous Proposal

Chapter 2: Orbital Operations

CHAPTER TWO: ORBITAL OPERATIONS

The daily Friendship Express ground to a halt in Canterlot station with a final squeal of brakes. The train was a mere seven cars—barely half the length of any other train in the station. Even the engine’s tall smokestack was dwarfed by the sleek, steel bulk of the four o’clock Manehattan Express sitting majestically on the next line over. There was hardly any traffic to a small town like Ponyville, and Twilight, Austenite, and Spike were among the few to board the small, gaily-colored train. They could probably find an entire car to themselves if they really wanted.

Austenite had hardly said a word since leaving the Castle. He brushed past as Twilight gave their tickets to the conductor, sitting heavily on the bench. He fumbled for the cork-lined lever that locked the compartment window, throwing it open and allowing the compartment to breathe. The air smelled heavily of soot, but it was still more bearable than leaving the stuffy compartment closed the whole trip.

Twilight parked herself on the bench next to him, while Spike hopped up on the one facing them so he would have plenty of room to nap during the ride. Twilight wasted no time pulling out a book from her luggage, carefully propping it in front of her so it would not be jostled by the rocking of the train. She looked up and smiled reassuringly at Austenite.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be perfectly safe with the princesses. She said she’s putting it in her personal archive, and that has some of the most important books in all of Equestria.”

“I told you, I’m not worried,” Austenite grumbled. “I just wish I’d remembered to make duplicates of the plans. I knew that the Princesses were going to want to look at them, but—” He kicked against the handle again, jarring the window open slightly more. “—I didn’t think that we would have to leave them.”

As they got settled in, a whistle from the engine heralded their departure, and soon the compartment was filled with the rhythmic sounds of the train passing over the tracks.

“Well, you remember what Princess Celestia said, right? She’s going to give them back as soon as she’s done examining them. We’ll probably be going back to Canterlot to retrieve the spell matrix in a week.”

Austenite snorted. “If she finds it safe.” Derision dripped from the words. “I’ve heard that kind of bureaucratic nonsense before. ‘Go through a review process—it’s just a formality’. ‘It’s just a matter of waiting for the paperwork to go through’. It’s all lies. She was just cushioning the blow, Twilight.” He wrapped his wings tightly around him and drew in his hooves. “This is probably just going to be another dead end.”

Twilight eyed him coldly. “Hold it right there, mister. I don’t know what it’s like in Trottingham, but I do know the princess. And you should know by now that there is nopony I trust more completely than her.”

Twilight’s icy tone startled Austenite, and the pegasus looked up in alarm. Twilight was looking at him with an expression that was a dead ringer for the one that Celestia had worn in their meeting. He’d never seen this Twilight before, not even when they’d hit a brick wall with their work or been struck in the doldrums of bad results.

He realized his error immediately, of course—he’d never before insulted one of the sovereign rulers of Equestria. But even that didn’t matter, because in Twilight’s eyes, that paled in comparison to the fact that he’d insulted her mentor. From the look the dragon was giving him, it was clear that Spike held Princess Celestia in equally high regard.

“She’s never steered me wrong, ever.” She looked out the window at the passing mountainside, remembering the circumstances that had first brought her to Ponyville. “Once, what I thought was a rather silly request of hers even ended up saving the world. So when the princess gives us her word that she will examine the spell matrix and honestly determine if it is safe—” She turned her eyes back on him, and he visibly cringed, as if the very touch of her gaze was painfully hot on his skin. “—I know she will honor it.”

The clacking of the tracks counted the seconds before Austenite spoke.

“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect, toward you or toward the Princess.”

Twilight held her silence, so Austenite continued.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever worked on projects before, Twilight, but for me, especially after working on it for so long, I get attached to it.” He grimaced. “Maybe too attached. Especially after working on it for four months. It’s like a foal to me, I’ve spent so much time with it. Having an idea—well,” he looked back at Twilight, “half an idea—in your mind, and seeing it come into existence before your very eyes? It’s so... incredible!” He smiled thinly at that. “Chasing that feeling is why I became an engineer in the first place.

“And to see somepony—anypony—step on that idea with a word...” He laughed nervously. “Well, it’s hard to remain objective. I should probably be more angry at myself.” He hung his head. “I really didn’t mean to insult the Princess, honest.”

Twilight didn’t bite his head off. Instead, to his surprise, he felt the feathery touch of a wing being draped over him.

“It’s okay, Austen. Apology accepted, if that matters. I probably shouldn’t have been so short, either.The princess is a bit of a button for me.” Austenite felt the wing squeeze around him. “You just have to have faith that the princesses have our best interests in mind.”

“I know, but it’s always hard for an engineer to let go of a project.” Austenite rested his head against the window, ignoring the beautiful vista of the snow-capped Unicorn Mountains passing by, instead examining the workings of the bogeys beneath the car. “I’m just afraid that my work is going to end up sitting in some closet, gathering dust and cobwebs.”

Spike chose that moment to pipe up. “Don’t worry, guys. You did great at the presentation! Those big-shot ponies couldn’t get enough of it! I heard them talking, and they were all super excited about all of the things you can do with your spell-whatsit.”

“The things we can do once we get the prototype working fully. At its current efficiency, the thing’s more useful as a paperweight.” Austenite huffed in annoyance. “I know we can do better—even the most pessimistic calculations say that the spell matrix can be ten times as powerful!”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

That reminded Austenite of Celestia’s ultimatum. “But even if she pronounces it safe, she already said ‘no’ to our plans for the moon.”

“No?” Spike said. “Aww. That sounded so fun, too.” He sat up. “Was it a ‘no’-no, or a ‘maybe’-no? Or maybe an ‘I kinda like it, but I don’t wanna make a real choice yet so I’m just saying no to give you an answer now’-no?”

“I don’t know, Spike,” Twilight said, feeling crestfallen all over again. Now it was her turn to coil up, withdrawing her wing from Austenite’s shoulders.

She had been looking forward to showing Celestia the spell matrix, but she had really wanted to see what Celestia thought of going to the moon. She had expected her teacher to be surprised, she had expected the princess to commend her on such a rigorous goal, but she hadn’t expected Celestia to simply say... no. Even the knowledge that the spell matrix might yet see the light of day was tempered by that abject refusal. Even if space were as dangerous as Celestia said, wasn’t there a better way she could have told them?

As it was, Celestia’s explanations only frustrated her. Maybe she had flown off the handle with Austenite because she was a little angry at the princess herself? Part of it was what Austenite had said—that the princess hadn’t really considered it at all before rejecting their idea. But maybe she knew better than Twilight. Celestia had more than a thousand years of experience on the alicorn of a paltry five months. She was smart and wise—she had to be, otherwise she wouldn’t be so good at ruling Equestria.

Perhaps it was that, too—the way that Celestia made that offhand reminder that, even though she had ‘graduated’ from her tutelage, she still had much to learn. Celestia had acted, for a moment, like the imposter Celestia from King Sombra’s door, short and dismissive.

She looked from Austenite, to Spike, and back, but neither of their faces held any hint to her questions. How could she convince Celestia to change her mind? Could she convince Celestia to change her mind?

“I just don’t know,” she echoed.

* * *

Immediately upon entering her and Luna’s private chambers, Celestia kicked off each of her ornate golden horseshoes. With practiced ease, the shoes bounced off of a particularly worn and scuffed section of the wall and clattered to the floor. With a little more care, she removed her crown, allowing her ethereal mane to revert back to its natural state. Light pink hair fell across her shoulders as she used her magic to set the crown on a small velvet stand. The aura that she exuded all day, that radiated from her like beams from her own sun, also coalesced back inside her, leaving her coat a soft, clean—but strangely... natural—white.

Luna entered the room after her, and began to remove her own regalia in a manner that caused less consternation to the castle shoesmiths and masons. Her hair, too, fell back to the light blue it had been when she was rescued from Nightmare Moon.

Both of the sisters were exhausted. The meeting with the ambassador to the Gryphon Hegemony had stretched on, and court had been held much longer than usual as a result. It seemed to Luna that a single delay always seemed to compound itself, for the meeting that had only stretched perhaps a half-hour too long had somehow extended the day by another two. At least Luna had been able to excuse herself for a while on other business; Celestia had been present the entire time, which hadn’t done wonders for her mood by the time they finally finished.

“It appears Ambassador Emmerich is more long-winded than his brother was,” Luna said, testing the waters. Celestia and Luna had been expecting to meet with Kaspar, the Gryphon ambassador five years standing, and it had come as a shock when the sisters learned that Kaspar had been replaced. The role had been filled by one of his nestbrüder, a younger Gryphon called Emmerich. But where Kaspar had been the Gryphon equivalent of ‘soft-spoken’, Emmerich was brash, almost to the point of rudeness, and had dragged out the meeting with long, ornate formalities.

“I’m almost certain that he was being a pain in the flank on purpose.” Celestia said through grit teeth. She finished removing the last piece of her regalia, the sapphire-studded chestpiece, which joined her crown on her desk. “Besides, he arrived with the Hegemon’s response about the border lands issue. He could hardly be as relaxed as Kaspar and still hoof… toe?... the Hegemon’s line.” She gave a crooked smile.

“Well, he could certainly have been less rude,” Luna grumbled. Neither sister was ready to retire, so Luna sparked a fire in the hearth. Celestia and Luna knelt on their preferred pillows in front of the fire.

“Sister, you have to remember that Gryphons don’t see it as ‘being rude’,” Celestia admonished her, never too tired to resist lecturing her sister. “In their culture, if a gryphon acquiesces or acts deferential, they are seen as weak or lame. Emmerich was afraid that we wouldn’t respect him or the Hegemony if he didn’t act that way.”

“I don’t remember Kaspar ever acting that way, and we respected him just fine!” Luna rapped one of her forehooves on the floor for emphasis.

“That’s because Kaspar had already been in Equestria for two years before you met him, so he had learned how to act around ponies.” Celestia chuckled. “He was just as brazen in the beginning. I remember; he once tried to challenge Prince Blueblood to a duel because he mistook nickering for an insult. Of course, Blueblood didn’t help the situation…”

“The point seems moot. Why even go to such lengths if he knows that we can’t possibly find his Hegemon’s requests unacceptable? That land rightfully belongs to the Crystal Empire.”

Gryphon mining in the Crystal Mountains had long been one of the most powerful sectors of their economy. Farming and ranching in the Hegemony’s southern climes supplied food to its more inhospitable regions. The mountains were mineral-rich, and its shoals of forests were perfect for logging. Iron and coal from the area was also their major source of trade with Equestria.

But then the Crystal Empire had reappeared squarely in the middle of the area. The crystal ponies had awoken from their millenium of sleep to find gryphons on the land that, to their mind, had always been theirs. Those lands had been just as necessary for the survival of the Empire, and they were eager to reclaim them. The gryphons, of course, refused to leave the territory that had been part of the Hegemony for hundreds of years.

Only Equestria’s support for the Empire had stopped the gryphons from escalating the conflict. They had screamed about the ‘coup’ that installed Equestrian royalty to the throne of the Empire and the heavy-hoofed nature of her sanctions, but they knew full well that they could not sustain a war against both pony nations.

“That’s another reason why Twilight’s device worries me so. If it becomes widespread in Equestria,” Celestia continued, “it will be leaked to the Gryphons. I don’t even want word to get out that such a device exists. Gryphons have always been jealous of us for our magic, and I don’t want to think about the lengths they would go to in order to end their dependency on us.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I wish Twilight would have warned us first...”

Luna frowned. “And that is the reason you want to keep it hidden here? Surely with the advancements we are making here in Equestria, any loss in trade with the Gryphons would be irrelevant.”

The long day was wearing on Celestia, and she was not in the mood to debate with her sister. “Luna, you’re not seeing the big picture. Gryphons have no innate magic. Zebras have their potions and poultices, but no other nation on this world has mastered magic like we have.” She turned to her little sister. “And you’d want to give that up for what? Better farming? Textiles? Right now, the Gryphons need us. I don’t want to see a time when that is no longer true. Already they are dabbling in electricity.”

“So you would strangle progress on the mere chance that the gryphons will steal it? Celly, that’s downright medieval! So what if they eventually get spell matrices? Your school is still the leader in magical theory, and with the College starting to turn out engineers and mathematicians and scientists, Equestria could become the center of a technological renaissance!” She looked her sister square in the eye. “Every technological advance is not going to be the death knell of Equestria, sister. You are far too wary of progress.”

“Luna, you know that’s not true. Let’s not forget that your engineers have produced wonderful things, but we must not throw caution to the wind.” Celestia gave her sister a very flat look. Luna was edging towards whining, and she was beginning to get cross.

“You remember reading from Twilight’s friends about Flim and Flam? They came out of your college filled with ideas about progress and efficiency. That infernal machine of theirs was ripping trees right out of the ground, and the cider it produced wasn’t even fit for pig slop! Not only was it dangerous, it almost drove the hardworking Apple family out of business! And that was just earth pony engineering and their own magic. Who knows how dangerous a spell matrix could be in the wrong hooves?”

Luna didn’t care anymore. “Is this what you’ve been doing for the past thousand years? Worrying yourself into indecision? I mean, I... return... only to find ponies just beginning to play with steam? And that they’ve just discovered electricity for the second time!?” Luna grit her teeth, “I did not expect to find that ponykind has taken two steps backward!”

Celestia flared her wings suddenly, the great burst of air almost extinguishing the fire. “Alright already, Luna! I already promised that we’d look at the spell matrix, and we will look at it. And if I think it’s safe, we’ll give it and the blueprints back to Twilight and her friend.”

“And yet you still won’t let them undertake their journey to the moon.”

“No. Because it isn’t safe.”

“Horsefeathers. Twilight beat Discord. She can manage a journey in space—you just don’t want her to.”

Suddenly, something clicked in Luna’s mind.

“Oh. Oh-ho-ho!” Luna said in understanding. “You’re afraid,” she said slowly, in barely a whisper, “aren’t you, Celly?” The Night Alicorn stood and faced her older sister, the firelight revealing a devilish glint in her eyes. “You think that somehow she’ll find out—”

“Luna, it’s late!” Celestia spat. “We should both retire for the night.”

“She’ll learn the truth, and then where will you be? Where will either of us be?”

Celestia stood suddenly, her wings shaking a bit as she cleared away her cushions. “Luna, you’re delirious. You know that staying up the whole day isn’t good for your health. Go to bed.”

“You know what?” Luna retorted. “I almost hope she learns. Were I not honor-bound, I would have half a mind to tell her myself.”

Celestia could not even bear the time it would take to walk to her door. With a bright gold flash, Luna was left alone in their common room.

Luna stared into the fire, and contemplated the course of those past few years since her return. She’d tried to do right, tried to shepherd the ponies of Equestria toward progress, but in the end, she was bound to follow her sister’s wishes.

She, too, finally got up to retire to her chambers. Smothering the fire, she resolved to fight for Twilight Sparkle. This was too important, too wonderful, to shrivel because of Celestia’s fears.

Author's Note

EDIT: I did a little more tweaking to the reasons for the gryphons' unrest. Hopefully, this will provide a more interesting development of the conflict.

Chapter 3: Dealing with Darkness

CHAPTER THREE: DEALING WITH DARKNESS

Nights in the city of Canterlot had been transformed in recent years. The city’s main thoroughfares, which had been lit for more than a thousand years by flickering, winking torches—then by gas lanterns—were now bathed in the plain, even, yellow light of electricity. Fancy restaurants would leave the electric bulbs undisguised, just to prove they had them. It wasn’t like Manehattan, where in parts of its downtown, it was said, you couldn’t tell the difference between day and night, but Canterlot had definitely emerged from a scene out of Windigo times into the kernel of a modern city.

But the castle that rose up above the city was still lit, by royal decree, with torches, just as it had always been. With the changing of the Evening Guard, the Night Guard walked out along the parapets, and at the chime of seven o’clock, the unicorns in the guard cast a well-practiced spell, setting every torch on the castle exterior alight within seconds.

For Graphite, watching from a nearby rooftop, the spectacle more than rivaled any display of earth pony electricity. He watched as light blossomed across Canterlot Castle, spreading out in a beautiful cascade, like ripples in a pond. But the torchlight also served another purpose for Graphite. He stuck to one of the newly created shadows beneath a parapet, casting a low-powered spell that merged his naturally black coat even more seamlessly with his surroundings.

Above him, he heard the commotion of the changing of the guard coming to a close, and he prepared to move. Jump. Left turn, crouch immediately to avoid detection. Crawl forward twenty meters. Unlock door, open inward, then immediately lock again. Shouldn’t take more than twenty, maybe twenty-three, seconds. The sequence was simple enough, and he’d run through it in his head enough over the past two days. Simple, however, didn’t always mean smart.

Graphite normally liked to have time to scope out his target, figure out his own ingress and egress, practice the timing more than a half-dozen times, all of the little things that separated good agents from former agents. But the note from his contact had stated, rather unapologetically, that the mission window was only open for another two nights. If he’d given me a week, I could have damn well gotten myself invited to the castle! As it was, Graphite would have to trust in his contact. However, considering the fact that he had never even met the pony, trusting him wasn’t that easy for Graphite to do.

All that remained to be seen was if the key he had been given would work. Graphite sincerely hoped that it did; his contingency plan if it didn’t work involved rolling over the wall again, but this time with a ten meter drop down to a cobblestone alley waiting for him on the other side. Assuming, of course, that I make it back over the wall in the first place.

He heard the click and scrape of armored hooves that meant that the nearest guard had turned away. Well, they say that he who hesitates is lost. Jump!

Without a second thought, Graphite sprang up and threw himself sideways, gaining exactly enough height to clear the crenulations, rolling onto the wall and rising to his cloth-covered hooves with hardly a sound. Indeed, the professors at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns would have been surprised at the agility of their newest assistant. A great many things about Graphite would have surprised them.

Left turn, crouch immediately. As he crawled along the battlement, his ears strained for any sounds in the night. The galloping of hooves on stone, a shout from a guard pony, any sign that he had been spotted. As he crawled, he chanted in his mind to match the rhythm of his hooves: this is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid... Graphite briefly considered a prayer to The Sisters as well, then thought better of it. After all, he thought wryly, what kind of goddess would bless a burglary in her own castle?

He soon came to a plain wooden door sunk into an alcove in the walls, barely body-deep. Now came the moment of truth: would the key work? From a small satchel tied around his body, he produced a plaster key, rough and imperfect, a product of the crude wax mold it had been copied from. It had been lifted from a servant, and thus couldn’t hope to open anything more secure than a linen closet. Leaning against the alcove to shield the light from his magical grip, Graphite put the key in the lock and gingerly twisted it. Don’t snap, he prayed. Don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t sn—

The key made a small crunch as it snapped halfway through the turn.

—ap. He looked at the broken end of the key hanging limply in his grasp. Horseapples. Horse-bucking-apples. A particularly helpful corner of Graphite’s mind started snarkily pointing out his mistakes, that he should have been holding the whole key in his magic, that he should have tested the key before his life was on the line.

And this meant he was done, of course. Because in fourteen seconds, the guard at the end of the wall would turn around, spot him, and sound the alarm. And then Graphite would have to choose between crippling injury on the cobblestone below and a wonderful stay enjoying Celestia’s... hospitality.

Any good operative knew to leave emotion behind. Emotion clouded your judgment and slowed you down. This mantra battled against the first few beats of real fear that coursed through his mind.

He probed out at the door with his magic, trying to find the broken end of the key. Perhaps it could still be turned in the lock. He groped at various bits and linkages in the lock, trying to turn each one, fruitlessly. He was still counting from the moment he had leapt over the parapet—ten seconds left.

At last, he found the broken stub, and, gripping it gingerly with his magic, he turned the key the last quarter-turn. He felt, rather than heard, the lock unlatch. Straining his magical strength, he lifted the heavy wooden door slightly so that its hinges would not squeal as he opened it, and he quickly slipped inside. He leaned for a moment against the door, listening one last time for any disturbance outside. He heard the sound of horseshoes approaching the door with military precision, and... the hoofsteps kept going.

Suddenly, the edges of his vision began shrinking. He had been found! It was obviously a clever unicorn he was fighting, and he had fallen right into the trap. He had no idea where his enemy was. No place to focus his magic. Graphite tried to push out with a counter-spell, but the black curse kept tightening around him, constricting his chest...

And then Graphite opened his mouth and remembered to breathe again.

He wiped away the sweat matting his brow, and took stock of his surroundings. Here was a room filled with shelves upon shelves of extremely secret and confidential... cleaning supplies.

The unicorn removed two more items from his satchel: a red peaked cap and matching jacket; the uniform of the porters here at the castle. Hopefully, nopony routinely questions the castle delivery colts, he thought as he pulled on the garment. Graphite chose a sufficiently heavy-looking box and hefted it; after all, it would be far easier if he looked like he had someplace to be. To round out his disguise, he let another spell envelop him, changing his coat and mane colors. Checking to make sure the change was complete, he stepped inside.

The corridors of the castle were far from the dark, deserted halls it seemed that spies were normally found sneaking through. Instead, though not as heavily trafficked as during the day, servants and guards were still going about their business. Graphite, with his appropriated uniform and heavy burden, tried to blend in, but every instinct was screaming at him to get out of sight, away from the prying eyes of the guards. With his senses on high alert, it seemed as if every step they took was to corner or box him in.

He was walking with confidence, moving like he had a purpose, but he needed to find the right destination. He summoned up a mental map of the castle, and as bits swam in and out of focus in his memory, he cursed to himself again. One day was not enough time to memorize the layout of a thousand year old castle, and his employers bucking well knew that!

As he neared his destination, Graphite’s mind went into overdrive. He had one last hurdle to get past before he could complete his mission. According to his contact, the target was located somewhere in the secure archives of the library, kept under guard at all times. And this is where this shoddily constructed plan is going to fall to pieces. Because I’ve got to bluff my way past this guard, and there’s no way he’s one of the new colts on the block. ‘Special orders from the princesses’ isn’t going to cut it this time.

* * *

The Canterlot Archives were located above the library, in a tower that spiraled up several stories. The entrance to that tower, a small staircase, was guarded by no less than two royal guards, dressed in full kit and armor. There was no way that he was sneaking past that. The guards stood on the stairs themselves, and the only way to ascend was if they moved out of the way.

Graphite needed to step up his disguise. He ducked behind a bookcase and stashed his uniform. Screwing up his face, he concentrated on... the librarian at the desk! He pictured her clearly in his mind, and cast his spell.

Moments later, an old mare, with her gray mane coiled tightly into a bun, stepped into view of the steps, levitating a rather large book out in front of her. The Royal Guards snapped to attention when she approached, but they both smiled at the mare. “Good evening, Miss Citation,” one of them said.

“Gentlecolts,” she responded with a strained smile. After all, it was a rather heavy book she was carrying. “Just have to replace this.”

“Of course. I’ll be quick.” The stallion on the right lit his horn.

What? Graphite sensed the guard’s magic reaching out for him through the aether.

The vision spell started like the first drops of a deluge, and Graphite scrambled to hide his magical disguise before the full brunt of the spell came to bear. The trick was not to resist it, because resistance would mean deception. Instead, he tried to... streamline his work, trying to tuck in the edges of his magic behind the telekinesis, like a pegasus tucking in her legs to slip faster through the air.

But Graphite was swiftly reaching his limits. He almost lost his grasp on the book. The tome bobbed in the air as he struggled to stabilize it.

“Do you need any help with that, ma’am?” the other guard asked.

The vision spell wasn’t through, and now he had another act to juggle. Graphite reached again for the mare’s voice.

“Thank you, colts, but I have this well enough in hoof.”

Finally, it seemed that the guard was satisfied, and with a rush, the probing magic was dispelled.

“Well alright, then. She’s clear,” the one guard nodded to the other.

They stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She continued up the stairs and turned a corner. Safely out of view of the guards, the mare’s form evaporated, leaving a rather winded Graphite gasping for breath as silently as he could. His vision greyed, and he almost toppled into a stack of books. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d had to hold up his doppelganger spell up for that long. Add in the need to levitate the book to give an innocuous reason for his horn to be glowing, and avoiding detection, and you had a combination of spells that could test the endurance of any unicorn.

Graphite allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath, then pressed onwards up through the archives.

* * *

The final set of stairs led up to an attic in the tower. Unlike the levels below, this room was quite plain. The floor was coarse, unrelieved wood, and the walls were plain stone brick, bare of any tapestries. Besides the stairs he had just ascended, there was only one other exit: a large, open balcony on the other side of the tower. So that must be how Celestia and Luna get up here. Through the opening, he could see another tower, one which must have housed the royal chambers.

Graphite turned his attention to the contents of the last level of the archives. The walls were lined with shelves, each filled to the bursting point with scrolls and ancient tomes. In the center were stacks of crates covered with dust. None of these had been placed here in the last week. But with a bit of climbing, Graphite came to a crate that was newly made, sitting near the balcony entrance.

He tried using his magic to remove the top, to no avail. Adding his teeth to the mix, Graphite tried pulling again. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he strained against the nails. Finally, he heard a creak, and then a snap as the top of the crate came violently loose. The wood fractured in his mouth, and the unicorn spat out splinters.

Setting down what remained of the lid, Graphite looked at his prize. It was a strange device, somewhat like the laboratory equipment the professors used sometimes, only a hundred times more complex. And resting against the side of the box was a sheaf of drawings and papers as thick as his hoof. This was the real prize. He couldn’t hope to drag off the thing itself, so his contact would have to make do with the blueprints. It pained Graphite to have to leave behind such a marvelous piece of work.

One last trinket weighed down his satchel. Graphite withdrew a sphere of metal and glass, with intricate cogs and gears too detailed to have been made by hoof. He swapped the sphere for the sheaf of blueprints underneath the weird, spidery device. Satisfied that he had recovered all of the material he was sent to gather, Graphite gripped the sphere in his magic just... so, and the clockwork pieces began ticking and twitching.

He replaced the lid of the crate so that a cursory inspection wouldn’t raise the alarm, then walked back down out of the attic, carefully timing each step to the count he was keeping in his head. It was hard to keep from just bolting out and running for safety as fast as he could, but Graphite knew that if he got stopped by a guard, he would never make it out in time. Oh well. Slow and steady doesn’t get tortured and thrown into the crystal mines, as they always say. So Graphite walked nonchalantly out of the archives, even nodding to the guard that had let him through. What did he have to worry about? After all, he had made his delivery, hadn’t he?

By his count, he had seven minutes to go.

* * *

Celestia was finding this letter much more difficult to write than others that she had sent to her personal student. Several crumpled drafts littered her desk, most of them getting only a few lines in before being deemed unworthy. Her quill, nib coated in fresh ink, paused above a new sheet of parchment as she cast about for the correct words. Then she began writing:

My dearest, most faithful student-

In all the years I have been your mentor I have never had any reason to doubt you. You know that I value your diligence and that I trust you completely. I know that you would never try to do anything that could harm other ponies. The work you and Austenite have done is incredible, but I’m afraid that there’s just too much of a chance for something to go wrong with your spell matrix. I’m going to keep the prototype with me here in Canterlot, where I can continue studying it, and where I can ensure that it remains safe—

This draft, too, Celestia crumpled and discarded. She needed to get the right mix of regret and command to achieve something that Twilight would both understand and accept. But she would get it right eventually. She had to. She couldn’t let such a device threaten her little ponies. She thought back to her trials with the spell matrix. Truly, it was an amazing machine, and if Twilight was right, its capabilities were limited only by the imagination of the pony using it. The problem was that the imaginations of some ponies could wander down dark paths.

Celestia sighed and closed her eyes. She had promised herself, just over one thousand years ago, surveying the painful results of her sister’s rebellion, that she would never permit those weapons of war to surface ever again. The rebellion had brought forth the greatest minds of the time, on both sides, engaged in the cruel task of designing death. The earth ponies’ mechanical monstrosities, unicorn spells to stop a beating heart, the cruel and deadly knives that pegasi favored. All those deadly... beautifully efficient inventions had arisen because of the war.

And when the fighting was done, she had destroyed all of them, and made sure that no trace was found in the histories. She had even ensured that the Royal Guard was outfitted with nothing more advanced than pikes, barely adequate for fending off the wild creatures of the Everfree. And for a thousand years she had kept her little ponies safe, and she would continue guarding her little ponies. No matter the cost.

Celestia dipped her quill in the inkwell and looked around for a clean piece of letterstock. She had barely put pen to parchment once again when she heard the noise. A tremendous cough came from her balcony, and as she looked out to identify its source, she saw the black cloud that poured forth from the top of the archive tower.

She exploded from her chair and made for her balcony, wingtips smacking into the archway as she hastily unfurled them and leapt into the air. She ignored the smarting pain as she covered the distance between the two towers in seconds. It looked like a small fire, but it was intense, fueled by the ancient, dry tomes. She had to angle up from the tower, the heat prickling her coat even twenty meters away.

Celestia reached out with her magic and formed a bubble about the fire, depriving it of air. She held the shield as she circled the tower, giving the fire time to die out. She released the shield, and landed in the cloud of soot, using her wings to dissipate the smoke. The stench of sulfur hung heavy in the air and bit at her nose. Pieces of charred parchment crunched underhoof as she surveyed the damage.

It was all burned. Everything was gone, hundreds of years of her accumulated knowledge reduced to so many ashes beneath her hooves. Even the books that had been spared the inferno were blackened by smoke. The least damaged would take days to restore. Some of her greatest works, her journals, her secrets... It’s not quite starting from scratch, but... Celestia felt her chest tighten and her heart begin to race as she took stock of what was lost. Wide Tartarus, it’s close.

The fire looked like it had spread from near the center of the space, perhaps closer to her than not. Almost right in front of—

Her eyes found the remains of a particular crate, one whose sides were heavily burnt and lay scattered in different directions. Inside, the once delicate, silvery armatures of Twilight’s machine lay twisted and half-melted. The gems on the ends of the arms had shattered from the pressure. Bits of the crystals had even flown through the air, like tiny daggers, and embedded themselves in the wooden pillar beside the crate. Did Twilight’s machine do this?

Celestia quickly answered her own question. No, it couldn’t have. My pupil is powerful, but not that powerful. My protection spells would have stopped any accidental fire... any accidental fire... She looked more closely at the charred remains. Lying nestled in the debris were parts that she had not seen in her close examination of the device. It was among these pieces that the odor was strongest. And in among the fragments, she could sense the echoes of some infernal spell, a type of magic she had not seen since—

Just then several of her royal guards burst into the room from below in the tower. One unicorn, magic gathered at the ready, charged forward, but skidded to a halt as he saw his Princess. “Your Highness! We heard an explosion! What happ—are you okay?”

Celestia saw the guard’s eyes shift to her mane, and remembered that she wasn’t in her regalia. Few were the ponies who even knew that this was the natural state of her hair, much less had seen it that way.

She waited to respond until she could control her breathing. “I’m fine, Ivory, thank you. Everything will be okay. We’re just lucky the fire was stopped before it could hurt anypony.”

The guards took in the destruction. “Is there, uh, is there anything we can do, Your Highness?”

“No.” Celestia closed her eyes. “Please, everypony, just go back to your duties. I’ll worry about this for now.” The guards turned to retreat back down the stairs.

“Wait!” Celestia thought for a moment. “Get to the gate as fast as you can. Don’t let anypony leave the castle until I say so. If anypony tries to leave or resists in any way, detain them. Have the Guard keep a close watch of the skies, too.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Once she was alone again, Celestia turned back to the wreckage. The sabotage, she corrected herself, as she was sure that sabotage it was. It would have taken a large amount of flame to overpower her protection spell, not something simple like a spilled candle. It had to be an incendiary device. It had been both magical and mechanical, too. She was sure of it.

Celestia frowned. Having answered the ‘what’ had only opened up the ‘who’, ‘why’, and ‘how’. Who did this? How did they get past the entire guard? How did they know to look here in the first place?

Another thought rose, by some blind chance, to the front of her mind. What am I going to tell Twilight? She paused. What am I going to tell Twilight? She looked back at the total destruction lying at her hooves. It’s gone. It’s all gone...

* * *

The Royal Guard came to attention and stood stock still as he heard the door behind him open. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the ethereal mane of his ruler, and he somehow managed to stand even straighter.

“Destrier?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I am not to be disturbed, unless the trespasser is found.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Destrier. As you were.”

Celestia slammed the door shut again before the guard could get in a last ‘Yes, Your Highness’. She had some things that she needed to attend to. Her magic gripped her quill and readied a fresh sheet of parchment as the sun goddess crossed back over to her desk. She finally knew what she was going to write in her letter to Twilight:

My dearest, most faithful student-

I’m afraid I must share with you some terrible news. Not twenty minutes ago, there was a fire in my personal archives here in Canterlot. The investigation is still ongoing, but I’m afraid it’s pretty clear that the fire originated with the spell matrix. Thankfully, nopony was hurt, but many records were destroyed. I’m afraid that the spell matrix was completely destroyed, along with the blueprints...

The scratching of the quill was the only sound that could be heard as Celestia wrote on into the night.

* * *

Graphite hated having to wait for anypony. Especially when he might be the new most-wanted pony in Equestria. He cursed his contact, whoever he would turn out to be. Anypony who’s had more experience than reading the latest Con Mane book knows that an alley is a stupid place to arrange a meeting! You don’t hang out in alleys in the wee hours of the morning, you meet in the middle of a crowded square in the middle of the goddess-damned day!

At least if they were jumped by the guard, Graphite thought he had a good chance of getting away. He was cloaked by his shadow spell again, and it would take eagle eyes to see him from the street.

“Good evening.” Graphite just barely managed not to jump all the way out of his skin at the sound of a gruff voice speaking directly behind him. Or Gryphon eyes, I suppose. His contact folded its wings and sat back on its haunches, folding its arms in that way Graphite had seen gryphons do.

I didn’t expect them to actually send a gryphon into the city to collect the blueprints. At least that’s reason enough for the rendezvous in the alley. He tried to school his face into a neutral expression. “Two Paragons” he said, tensing should he not receive the correct countersign. He didn’t know that much about Gryphon physiology, but he couldn’t imagine their wings being that much different from a pegasus’. Go for the Radius first. That’ll stop him from unfolding his wings. Then...

“What? Oh, the phrase. Ahem. ‘Behold the Diorama’” it... she?... said. Damn. Even the gryphon females are bigger than a pony.

“You speak Equestrian well for a gryphon.”

The gryphon snorted. “Vat? You sink ve all talk like zis?” She let out a low, derisive chuckle. “Ponies. I presume you have the papers?” she asked.

“Would I have shown up if I didn’t?”

“True, true.” They smiled thinly at each other for a moment, then the gryphon bit. “May I have them?”

“After I get the second half of my payment.” Graphite sat down and mimicked the gryphon’s pose.

“But of course. Here.” Claws rasped on her leather satchel, and she withdrew a sack of bits. She set it on the ground, the ‘clink’ of the bits inside echoing loudly off the alley walls. Graphite grit his teeth and begrudgingly withdrew the blueprints from his bag. Why does it have to be coin? It’s going to take me a day and a half to get out of here with that one-pony-band of a payment.

The gryphon gave the blueprints a swift look over. “Yes, everything appears to be in order. We have done it.”

He glared at the gryphon. “Don’t pat yourself on the back too hard yet. Canterlot’s a big city, and you’re not out yet.” Graphite turned and started walking back up the alley.

“Be sure to check your mail, Graphite,” the gryphon called softly. “We may have more work for you yet!”. With that, she took off as noiselessly as she had landed, leaving Graphite to slowly make his way back to his lodgings.

It was only after he was more than halfway there that he realized that he’d never told the Gryphons his name.

Author's Note

dun Dun DUN!

Chapter 4: Something on the Horizon

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMETHING ON THE HORIZON

Austenite awoke at seven a.m. on the dot. He rolled himself out of bed, and with a mechanical air, he moved about the tiny room. He took his five-minute shower, ran a comb through his mane a couple of times, brushed his teeth, and grabbed a muffin for breakfast. He was on his way out the door in ten minutes and thirty seconds, the same as every other morning.

Austenite liked having a well-oiled routine; waking up and getting ready was relegated to muscle memory, leaving him free to think about other things, like some problem he and Twilight just couldn’t nail down, or some test he wanted to perform. In fact, he usually had an idea figured out by the time he made it to the library—

The thought of the library brought him up short, almost making him trip down the stairs. He saved himself only by snapping out his wings and gliding the rest of the way down. As he recovered at the foot of the stairs, the events of the week before came back to him, and for the fifth time in as many days, he realized that he didn’t have anywhere to go. They were taking a break from the research, at least until Twilight received word from Princess Celestia. He knew that, but after four months of working, his new routine was proving hard to break. Austenite twitched his wings uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to do with himself. He settled for taking a flight, at least until he could think of something else to do.

He gained some altitude, flying just over the rooftops of the town. Goddesses, for a pegasus, I sure don’t know Ponyville from the air too well, he thought as he glided over a bank of clouds. I suppose it comes from working all day—and up until a week ago, there was no time for flying, anyway. He smiled. But that’s okay. I like it that way.

Maybe that was the problem. He’d been dreading the break in research. He hated not having a constant routine, and the sudden absence of work was throwing a spanner into his carefully planned procedures. And he knew what happened if he didn’t have anything to do. If he couldn’t throw himself into his work...

What happens if the break turns out to be a permanent one? There’s no going back to Wright, or any of the other bureaus in Trottingham. At least, none of the good ones. Canterlot? Canterlot’s never been much more than a hub for scientists, not any big places for engineers. Hoofington? There’s always some building project going on there. Who knows? He grimaced. If I don’t ask for anything more than an entry-level salary, maybe they won’t look a gift horse too closely in the mouth...

He flew a holding pattern over the town, circling and watching the world below. Down in Ponyville, the day was starting in earnest. He could see shopkeepers setting up their stands, trying to edge each other out and grab a prime spot in one of the more heavily trafficked paths. He saw members of the weather team falling in at the town square, led by their colorful captain, receiving the weather details for the day.

He just needed to be doing something. One day very soon, there was a golden age coming, he could feel it. A golden age of science, and electricity, and computing, and engineering, and he couldn’t stand the thought of being left by the wayside. He wanted to be right at the epicenter. He needed to be there, inventing, pulling all-nighters, tinkering, thinking, building, exploring, or he’d wreck himself against his own idle thoughts.

He’d been flying patterns above the town for a while now, and Austenite still couldn’t think of anything to do. Maybe he’d check and see if Twilight had heard anything from the Princesses today. It had been a week, after all.

He circled around again, searching for the giant oak tree that was his partner’s home. There! At least a tree in the middle of town is easy to spot. He coasted to a landing on the grass in front of the library. He saw the ‘open’ sign, and rushed forward to knock on the door.

The door rather suddenly decided to knock on his face instead.

The next thing he knew, grass filled his vision. Then the grass started talking to him, in Twilight’s voice.

“What in Equestria—Austenite? Austenite! Are you okay?”

Austenite mumbled something unintelligible about grass and suddenly gaining sentience.

“What?” Twilight said. “Austenite, what happened?”

“Twilight!” He heard Spike’s voice. “I think you hit him!”

“Oh, ponyfeathers! He’s bleeding! Spike, can you go fetch some ice and the first aid kit?”

“I’m on it!”

Austenite’s vision was suddenly tinged with rose, and he felt himself lifted up and carried away.

* * *

Minutes later, a slightly more cogent Austenite was sitting in the Golden Oaks library, trying to hold a cold compress up to his forehead, thankfully more bemused than hurt as he watched Twilight. She was acting more frantic than usual, jumping between examining his wound and apologising profusely.

“It’s okay, Twilight. I’ve had nasty crashes before. Nothing—Ah!—nothing to worry about—Hey!—unless you keep doing that! Stop it, that smarts!”

Twilight was dabbing alcohol on a small open cut. “Just hold still, mister. You don’t want this to become infected.”

“Infected?” Austenite batted the cloth out of the way. “That cut’s not even a centimeter long!”

Twilight acquiesced and went to replace the giant trauma kit she had pulled out. Austenite noticed her putting bags of plasma into it. “What, did you think I was going to need brain surgery?”

”Well, you can’t be too careful,” she said curtly. She applied a small bandage to the cut and allowed Austen to replace the compress. Already, the spot was developing into a rather sizable bump. “And really? Brain surgery? Don’t be silly. I was only worrying about blood loss.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Twilight, chill out. You’ve been freaking out ever since you got that letter from Princess Celestia.”

”You got a letter from the Princess?” Austenite inquired. “Is this one finally about the spell matrix?” Austenite fiddled nervously with his hooves. “She did say about a week or so...”

“Oh. Right.” Twilight’s magic retrieved a piece of parchment from the small kitchen. “In fact, we were going to come visit you to tell you when you, well... got here first.”

Austenite’s ears twitched as he heard the somber tone in her voice, and he looked up as she passed him the letter. His stomach was sinking before he even heard what she said next.

“There’s been a fire. Nopony was hurt, thank Celestia,” Twilight added in a rush, “but Celestia’s personal archives were destroyed.”

The bottom of his stomach dropped out like a lead weight as Austenite read the Princess’ words. “What about the spell matrix?” He looked at Twilight as the compress fell to the floor, bruise forgotten. “The blueprints? Are they intact?”

“Austenite, the spell matrix started the fire.”

Austenite blinked. “What? What are you talking about?”

Twilight nudged the letter with a forehoof. “It’s all right there, Austen. Celestia said that she saw the tower burst into flames from her bedroom balcony,” she recited dully.

Austenite seized the letter from her magical grip, reading the words for himself, as if Twilight had simply read it wrong. “That’s impossible. The spell matrix couldn’t have started the fire.”

“The spell matrix is the only thing that could have started the fire!” Twilight said. “I’ve been in Celestia’s personal archives. She has powerful wards in place to prevent things like a spilled lantern from causing a fire. Only something of intense power could have breached the wards!”

“And I’m telling you I know what I built!” Austenite grumbled, “What we built,” he amended after a moment. “Ask yourself: how could the spell matrix have started the fire? It’s perfectly safe when it’s not connected to any power source!”

“I don’t know, maybe some residual charge in the gems?”

“But the energy falls off exponentially. It couldn’t do that after sitting for a week in storage.” Austenite looked Twilight in the eyes. “There has to be more to this. It can’t have been a simple fire. It can’t.” He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of that more than Twilight.

“Austenite,” Twilight said as soothingly as she could, “we made a mistake.” She frowned. “Celestia warned us that the spell matrix could be dangerous. Goodness knows how badly we almost hurt ourselves a couple of times when we were building it. There are so many variables, so many things that we could have missed, could have forgotten. We should be thankful that it only damaged part of the archives, instead of blowing up in somepony’s face.”

She gathered Spike in a protective hug with her wings. “You do realize that if she hadn’t held onto it, the spell matrix would have been in the lab instead? Right underneath us? And I don’t have wards anywhere near as powerful as Celestia,” she said sternly. “I—I could have lost the whole library.”

Austenite remained mute. He took a turn around the room as Twilight replaced the letter on the table. Part of him, the part that was always finding the energy balance, the momentum equations, the heat transfer of the system, was trying to grapple with the problem, even as another part still insisted that what he had heard couldn’t be right. He could sit there calculating the hottest temperature of a gem rupture, and see the results staring him in the face without believing them.

“Do we know anything else?” he finally asked.

“No, but I’m sure Celestia will send me a letter as soon as she knows anything important.” Twilight softened her words. “It’ll be okay, Austen.”

The three of them were silent for a moment. “So what happens now?” Austenite asked nopony in particular. “Do we try to rebuild, or what?”

“I think we should wait and see what Princess Celestia has to say. She probably won’t want us to keep working on the spell matrix, not after this.”

Those were the words Austenite had been dreading to hear. Even months after... ‘graduating’ from Princess Celestia’s tutelage, Twilight was still hesitant to do anything without the permission, or at least the blessing, of her former teacher.

“So we’re going to sit here,” Austenite despaired quietly.

That was what this accident would mean. It would mean the end of the research, the end of four months of steady work and steady pay. It would mean the end of the will to get out of bed each morning. Without his work, he was lost.

“What do you expect to do? You think you can do a better job than the princesses?” Twilight asked.

“It doesn’t even matter,” Austenite responded. “It’s our work, it’s our responsibility. We should go to Canterlot,” he stated, “to see for ourselves what happened.”

“What, like, right now?” Spike asked.

Austenite stood up again. “As soon as we can—the next train out from Ponyville, if at all possible. Twilight, trust me on this.” He put his hooves on her shoulders. “Now, right now, is the critical moment. Now is when you choose to save everything we’ve worked towards, or condemn our work to the dustbin, because if we’re not there to fight, it’s entirely out of our hooves.”

Spike chimed in. “C’mon, don’t worry, Twilight. I can watch the library while you’re gone.” Twilight gave Spike a flat look. “Heh heh,” The dragon laughed nervously. “For real this time, I swear!”

“Alright then.” Twilight said after a moment. She grabbed a purse of bits from a cupboard. “Let’s see if we can’t get tickets. And you, mister.” She rounded on the baby dragon. “I expect this place to be clean when we get back. And I’ll be asking Rarity to come by and make sure you’re staying out of trouble.”

Spike threw her a salute, but inwardly he winced. If Rarity was coming by, he would actually have to clean...

It took a few minutes for the ponies to get ready. Luckily, Twilight’s status made accommodations easier; she always had a room available at Canterlot Castle, and it would be no problem getting a room for her guest. Austenite went down into the lab and collected any papers, drawings, bits of machinery, anything he could find that could possibly help them. And with that, they were out the door.

Spike waved out the door until they receded down the road, then turned back inside. A giant lecher’s grin spread across his face. Rarity wouldn’t check on him for a few hours, he was sure, and that gave him plenty of time to scour the library and find where Twilight hid the gemstones...

* * *

Canterlot Castle did not look near as inviting the second time around. It seemed as if the entire guard had been turned out; there were even more guards trotting about than during her brother’s wedding. And this time, they were in full kit too, with unsheathed pikes as a warning to all. Pegasi circled overhead, watching the skies and swooping low to clear any blind spots between buildings and walls. Twilight was unmistakable, but the guards on duty at the gate still searched through the small wagon Austenite had brought to carry their notes, and they still had to wait while a guard wearing shiny, new lieutenant’s bars checked their papers.

“The baggage is all clear, your highness,” the lieutenant bowed. He was sweating profusely. “My apologies for the delay. The Princess’ direct orders. Welcome back to Canterlot Castle. Princess Celestia is finishing up a session of court, but I can alert her that you are here as soon as she’s finished.”

As they passed through the gate and into the carefully manicured gardens of the castle grounds, Twilight could see the damage done to the archives. The normally snow-white tower had been stained black by smoke. The fire had even gotten hot enough to blister part of the ornate metal spire. She imagined that she could still see thin wisps of smoke rising from the balcony window.

That was all she could take in before a great form winged in and landed in front of them.

“Good day, Princess Sparkle.” Luna greeted them. She looked as serious as ever in her regalia, but Twilight noticed that her mane was perhaps a bit more subdued than usual, as if the stars floating within shined a little less brightly.

“Princess Luna!” Twilight exclaimed. “It’s so wonderful to see you again!” Luna bent down to give her a brief hug. Even though she was larger than a normal pony, Twilight still stood a head shorter than Luna.

The Night Princess turned to inspect her companion. “Likewise. And of course... Austenite, was it?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” Jolted by the mention of his name, Austen quickly remembered to bow to the Princess of the Night.

Luna craned down to look at Austenite more closely. “My subject, what has happened to your eye?” Austenite’s bruise had turned a blotchy purple that easily stood out from his coat.

“What? Oh, right! The door... Uh, It’s nothing,” he stammered in response to her quizzical look. “I mean, it’s nothing, Your Highness! Just an accident,”

“...Indeed.” She remarked. “I am glad to see you both.” Luna looked up at the wounded tower. “But I wish the meeting was under more auspicious circumstances than these.”

“Yeah. We came to see if we could do anything to help... uh, Your Highness.” Austenite said.

“There is much you can do.” Luna beckoned them forward, and the three of them began to walk through the gardens. “I am glad the two of you are here. Especially you, Twilight. I’m sure you will find that there is much more that a Princess can do from Canterlot than she can from a library in the country.” Luna smiled.

Twilight shook her head. “Thank you, Princess, but I already had this conversation with Princess Celestia. I like living in Ponyville, with my friends.”

Luna simply grunted and continued walking.

The gravel path crunched softly underhoof as they proceeded into the sculpture garden. Twilight remembered the place well; here was the statue where she had hidden behind when she’d been trying to break into the Starswirl the Bearded wing. It was funny—she had the exact same feeling of uneasiness then.

Austenite finally piped up. “Your Majesty,” he coughed. He was past that awkward phase when talking to Twilight, but the towering Royal Sisters still made him nervous. “Has there been any more information about the fire?” He wanted to bring the conversation back on topic.

“I am afraid we have not learned much more. Except for the lesson that, for all of our walls and guards, our enemies are still capable of striking in our home.”

“Enemies?” Twilight questioned. “What enemies?”

“Celestia’s investigators will no doubt confirm it eventually, but this was the work of the Gryphons, I am sure of it.”

“Princess, are you saying that the fire... it wasn’t an accident?” Austenite asked slowly.

Luna looked a little surprised. “Nay, it was not. But we suspected that from the beginning. All that remained was trying to identify the incendiary device used. I, for one, am sure that such an intricate device could only have been made by Gryphon talons.”

“That’s funny,” Twilight muttered. “The letter that Princess Celestia sent me didn’t say anything about the fire not being an accident.”

“She probably sent you the letter right after it happened. See?” Austenite smiled. “That’s what you get when you only read the initial reports. The spell matrix didn’t start the fire, there was a bomb! I told you that the spell matrix was safe!”

“A bomb?” Twilight ignored him and asked with much more concern. “Princess, what bomb? What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I do not know many details. You will have to ask Celestia if you want to know what really happened.”

They stopped before a final sculpture. Rising up from the center of a fountain was a golden globe, representing the entire planet of Equis. Around it revolved the heavenly bodies, a brilliant golden sun and a bright, pearlescent moon. The entire sculpture was magically animated, with the sun and moon always in the correct position above the planet. It was one of Twilight’s favorite sculptures in the whole of Canterlot. As a student, she had often found it a peaceful place to read or study.

“Marezu’s Coelum.” Luna stated. “Perhaps her greatest work. I had the misfortune of being... elsewhere when it was unveiled.” She bit her lip for a moment, as if to go on.

“Pity,” she finally said, gazing at the sculpture as she spoke to the ponies.

“I really am glad you two came to Canterlot. I would hate to see an idea so full of potential lost. I want to make it clear that if there is anything you need, anything at all, the College would be happy to provide.”

“Thank you, Princess Luna. That’s quite a generous offer.” Twilight said. Austenite even bowed again.

The princess nodded her head in return. “You are quite welcome. But we must discuss the details later. My sister approaches.”

Twilight and Austenite turned towards the castle. Here was the Princess of the Sun, gliding down to them from on high. She was flanked by five pegasi guards, all kitted out in full combat gear.

As she approached, Luna bent down close to Twilight and murmured out of the corner of her mouth. “Above all, Twilight, remember that you are no longer only my sister’s student. You are royalty now. Do not be afraid to use your power to seek that which you desire.”

Celestia swooped low over the sculpture garden, and with a great gust of wind, she flared her powerful wings and landed smoothly and precisely in front of the trio. Two of the Royal Guards made equally precise landings on either side of her. They were joined by a unicorn wearing a captain’s uniform, who ran up and stood alongside her, evidently having followed along on hoof. The other three guards remained in the air, pikes held at the ready, their heads on a swivel as they scanned the gardens and the sky around them.

Austenite sure is getting a workout, Twilight thought wryly as the pegasus bowed once again.

“Hello, Twilight.” The princess responded. “I’m glad to see you, but I’m surprised all the same.” She smiled her royal smile. “I was going to send for the both of you tomorrow, but it seems that’s no longer necessary.”

Twilight pawed at the gravel. “I hope you don’t mind. We just wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help.” She shrugged. “After all, it’s our invention that caused all of this,” she added lamely.

Celestia laid a wing over her former student. “It’s alright, Twilight. I told you in the letter; none of my little ponies were hurt, and that’s all that matters to me. I can always rebuild my archives.” She cleared her throat. “But I digress. And it’s good that you’re here too, sister. I just finished meeting with the Gryphon ambassador. Or, should I say, he just got finished talking to me.”

“That fool Emmerich?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “What has he done this time?”

Celestia flared her nostrils. “He informed me that the Gryphon Hegemon is no longer willing to negotiate over the Crystal Mountains. He said that the Hegemon’s position is final; we can either acknowledge his right to the lands, or he claims that he will occupy them by force.”

“By force?” Twilight asked incredulously. “What do you mean, ‘by force’? Are the Gryphons actually planning on fighting you for the land?”

Celestia nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid we have no choice but to treat the threat as a real one. I don’t want to have this come to bloodshed, but I am going to send a detachment of Royal Guards to be stationed in the Crystal Empire, under Shining Armor, just as a precaution.”

Twilight looked puzzled. “But won’t that make them think that we want to fight them?” She thought back on her friendship lessons. “What if you gave them some of the land they want? Surely the Gryphons would recognize a good compromise.”

Celestia let out a sigh. “Twilight, do you remember writing to me that ‘if you try to please everypony, you oftentimes end up pleasing nopony’? It was in one of your friendship reports. If I give the Gryphons part of the land now, half a year later they’ll forget that, and wonder why they don’t own all of the Crystal Mountains. They’ll make more demands. Should I bow to those, too?” She stomped her hoof, and Twilight and Austenite cringed. “No. The Hegemon needs to learn now that even though we would like nothing more than to remain at peace, we are always ready to defend Equestria, should the need arise.”

Twilight had read about wars in some of her books. There were some accounts of battles that had taken place when Luna transformed into Nightmare Moon. She had read about the Gryphon civil wars of eons past, but there had never been much on the subject. Sometimes they would give figures on casualties, but nothing more in-depth than that. She could hardly imagine a war. Sure, she had been in the Changeling attack, but even that had been resolved without any serious injuries. She couldn’t imagine it. She wondered if her brother would be okay.

“This makes it seem even more likely that it was Gryphon sabotage that caused the fire.” Luna added. “They know that we will cut off trade with them if they go through with this. Unless they want to lame themselves, this makes no sense... unless...” She turned to Austenite. “We must have you look at the remains. I would bet half my feathers that something’s missing.”

“The blueprints,” Celestia whispered, her nostrils flaring. “Of course. How could I have not seen it?”

Luna elaborated. “If the spy could penetrate your archives and plant the charge, what is to say that she did not remove something, as well?”

Celestia looked to the unicorn guard beside her. “Bastion, please have the guards leave us.”

Bastion dropped his role of unobtrusive guardian. “Your Highness! Is that wise? My teams haven’t reported back yet, and we still don’t know how the enemy was able to infiltrate the castle. There could still be—”

“That’s an order!” Celestia cut him off firmly. Her voice rolled across the gardens, startling some nearby birds into flight. Bastion physically recoiled from the ruler of Equestria. “You think that there’s any threat in Equestria that three alicorns can’t handle?”

“Of course not, Your Highness!”

“Then go!”

Bastion came to attention. He jerked his head at the pegasi as he ran off, and they fell in behind him as he turned tail and galloped back to the castle. Celestia simply stood there for a moment, schooling her face into a stoic expression.

“Are you saying that the Gryphons have our blueprints?” Austenite asked Celestia, all decorum forgotten. “The complete blueprints to the spell matrix?”

“We must assume this is the case.” Luna said. “The Gryphons will have the spell matrix. It is only a matter of time.”

He covered his face with his hooves. Twilight looked at her teacher. Celestia stood rigid and unmoving, gazing into the fountain. “Princess Celestia,” she asked, “are you alright?”

“Yes, Twilight. This just... complicates things. We had one last bargaining chip; the threat of sanctions against the Western States. I had been counting on the fact that we could always withhold magical goods from the Gryphons. If they have access to the spell matrix, though...”

“With the spell matrix, and enough time, the Gryphons will be able to mine the Crystal Mountains, to create any magic that they could ever need. They could finally be our equals.” Luna finished.

The air seemed to get chillier and the sky a bit grayer to Twilight. Two days ago, if somepony had asked me if I thought that there would be an international incident brewing over our invention, I’d have called it a—a load of horsefeathers. Now? Canterlot Castle attacked, Gryphon spies on the loose, the Royal Guard on alert... I’ve never seen Celestia so worried.

Austenite broke the silence. “So what happens now? Where do we fit into all of this?”

“I believe the answer is obvious,” Luna said, planting her hoof for emphasis. “We cannot allow the Gryphons to be the singular masters of your device. I think that we should allow Princess Twilight and Austenite to continue work on the spell matrix.”

All eyes were on the eldest alicorn. Even with Twilight and Luna’s support, it would still come down to Princess Celestia. She was still the one in charge, and she could still say no. “This will have to bear careful consideration,” Celestia finally said, “but I don’t think that this is a good idea.” The princess nickered. “The spell matrix has brought nothing but trouble to Equestria.”

Twilight wilted at the dismissal.

“Please, Princess Celestia,” she implored, “you know how much this would mean to all of us. Discovering new magic,” she looked at Austenite, “going to the moon, improving the lives of all the ponies in Equestria!” Twilight was off the ground now, hovering at eye-level with Celestia, using all of her hooves for emphasis. “The spell matrix could make a difference in so many lives. And,” she frowned at her former mentor, settling back on the ground, “after all of this hard work, you can’t just expect Austenite and I to go back home.”

Celestia looked shocked. Perhaps she had never seen Twilight so obstinate, never mind having that ire directed at her. Twilight couldn’t remember a time since she had been a filly when she had challenged the wishes of her Princess.

But she was right. Austenite was right. And this time, Celestia was wrong. Twilight stood resolute alongside Luna and her partner.

“First the Gryphons and now this.” Celestia’s wings drooped, and her voice lost some of its unshakable calm. “I have to balance the fate of two nations, and potentially the lives of countless ponies, and you’re pestering me about your pet project.” She sighed, sounding more bitter than angry. “My dear student, do you have any idea what could happen if I allow you to keep working? The Gryphons will surely find out about it, and—and if they can get to my castle…“ She closed her eyes. Twilight could even see the tips of her wings, almost imperceptibly, begin to shake.

“I just can’t stand the thought of you coming to any harm, Twilight.”

Twilight took a half-step back. “We’ll be careful, Princess. And this won’t be the first time I’ve had to face danger, remember?” She glanced at Luna. “You trusted me to take care of Nightmare Moon. You trusted me to protect the Crystal Empire.” She brought a wing forward and inspected it as she flexed her feathers. “By your hoof I am Ascended. You said I was ready. I am ready. I know it could be dangerous,” she tried to smile reassuringly at Celestia, “but if what you say is even partly true, then it’s a risk we need to take.”

Celestia reached the tipping point. “And I suppose I don’t have any choice, do I? I can’t risk the Gryphons’ move being a bluff, and if they really do have the spell matrix, Equestria cannot afford to be unprepared.” Her eyes finally met Twilight’s. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I know it’s no excuse, but it’s been a long day.” She smiled humorlessly. “And it doesn’t look like it’s going to be getting better anytime soon.”

“It’s okay, princess. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’ll direct Bastion to give back anything we have left of the prototype. I need you to perfect the spell matrix, Twilight.”

“Of course, Princess Celestia.” Twilight said, barely able to contain her joy. “We won’t let you down!”

“Good,” Celestia replied.

“Equestria is counting on you once again, Twilight Sparkle. Good luck, and sunspeed.”

Author's Note

There is nothing so hard as trying to figure out how to upload a chapter when completely hammered...

Chapter 5: Sweet Apple Acres

CHAPTER FIVE: SWEET APPLE ACRES

“Well howdy, Twilight! Come on inside, it looks like the sky is about to open up.”

Applejack smiled as she held open the door to let her friend into the house. Twilight, her coat slightly damp, ducked in to escape the coming downpour. Then, to Applejack’s surprise, a unicorn stallion followed her inside.

Applejack had never seen the stallion before. He was on the larger side, almost as big as Big Mac, with a white coat and a short-cut, grey-blue mane. His cutie mark was a castle tower ringed with crenulations. Stranger still, he wore a light set of armor, similar to that of the Royal Guard, covering just his back and neck.

“Yeah, I saw the weather team putting the finishing touches on the storm as I got to the gate," Twilight continued, as if it was normal for this hulking stallion to be following her. "Hi, Applejack!” The two friends shared a brief hug.

Applejack broke away and turned to the newcomer. “So, uh... who’s this fella here?”

“Oh! Applejack, this is Bastion, my bodyguard.” Twilight gestured between her and the stallion. “Bastion? Applejack, one of my best friends.”

Bodyguard? What the hay is that about? Despite her puzzlement, Applejack stuck out a hoof in greeting, and Bastion gave it a shake. “Pleased to meet’cha!”

“It is always a privilege to meet one of the Bearers of Harmony,” the stallion said in a smooth tenor, with just a hint of a Canterlot accent. He released her hoof, and Applejack showed the two guests into her home. With all the suddenness that came from pegasus-made storms, the light patter of rain on the tin roof became a constant, murmuring din.

As they reached the living room, Twilight spoke again. “So, how’s it going, Applejack?”

“Everythin’s just fine and dandy. Ah’m just glad we finished with the fields earlier this afternoon. Big Mac must’ve read the weather report wrong. He said we weren’t gonna get any rain ‘till the end of the week.” She laughed. “Shucks, where are my manners? Sit on down, y’all. Can I get ya anythin’ to drink, sugarcube?”

“Oh, I’ll have a mug of cider, if you still have any.” Twilight’s said, grinning.

Applejack grumbled. “Ah do, but don’t you dare tell Rainbow Dash. As far as she’s concerned, Ah ran out months ago.”

She liked to keep a barrel or two to enjoy for herself, which could last through the spring if she rationed it. Unless, of course, her friends drank it all, which was why Rainbow didn’t get invited inside very much. She filled three mugs from a tap and brought them back into the main room, balanced precariously on her back. Twilight’s horn glowed magenta, and one of the mugs rose and travelled across the room.

“Wait,” Bastion commanded, and with a sudden swiftness, a blue miasma had displaced Twilight’s grip on the mug, causing her to blink in surprise and then glare at the stallion. Bastion said nothing, but the glow from his magic pulsed brighter, and a cheerful tone emanated from the mug.

“It’s clean, Your Highness.”

Twilight took back the mug. Applejack looked over at Bastion with an inquiring glance. “Will you be wantin’ one of your own?”

“Oh, sorry, I can’t drink on-duty,” he said. He hadn’t even sat down, preferring to stand next to Twilight. Something about the stallion put Applejack on edge. He didn’t relax—in fact, it looked like he was expecting a timberwolf to come jumping through the window any minute.

“Don’t worry, it’s not hard cider,” Twilight said, and the stallion acquiesced and caught a mug in his magic as well.

Twilight took a long draught of the spicy drink. She sat there for a moment, appraising the taste.

“Mmm. The preservation enchantment still seems to be working. It still tastes like it did on the first day of cider season!”

“It sure as sugar does!” Applejack agreed. “Thanks again for doin’ that. Not a single barrel spoiled during the winter. Apple Bloom even looked at the numbers—we sold a fourth again as many barrels this year as we did last year!”

“That’s great to hear, Applejack. I’m glad I could help.” She took another sip of cider. “Say, speaking of Apple Bloom, where is everyone else?”

“Oh, Apple Bloom is staying the night with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo over at Rarity’s place, and Big Mac was over in the barn finishing up some work. Granny’s probably sleeping... somewhere, Ah guess.” The farm pony relaxed into the couch. “It feels good to be able to take a load off from time to time.”

“I wouldn’t mind it myself.” Twilight said. “These past few days have been a little bit... hectic, what with everything going on in Canterlot.”

Applejack finished off her mug, then chastised herself for drinking it so fast. “Shoot, I heard about that in the papers, all over the front page. Somethin’ ‘bout a fire at Canterlot Castle?.”

Twilight glanced critically at Bastion, and he gave a small nod in return. “Yeah, there was a fire in the library tower, but it wasn’t an accident. I expect it’ll be in the papers tomorrow, but Princess Celestia is almost certain that it was Gryphon sabotage.”

“Sabotage?”

“The perpetrator attacked the archives and destroyed the prototype spell matrix. Oh, and probably stole the blueprints. That, and the fact that the Gryphon Hegemony suddenly cut off negotiations with Equestria and is now massing troops on the border brings it above the level of coincidence.” Twilight said, matter-of-factly, as if she were telling Applejack that Spike had slept in that morning, not that her prized project had been destroyed, and because of it, Equestria was hovering on the brink of war.

“In the name of all things oats ‘n apples!” The farmer said, as close as she would come to cursing. “So is that why you’ve got this bodyguard now?”

“‘Just a precaution’, Princess Celestia says. If worse comes to worst and they do attack, Celestia wants to make sure that I’m properly protected. And that means having Bastion here tailing me closer than my shadow. My ‘Personal Guard and Head of Security’.” Twilight nickered and patted the unicorn on the back. “No offense, Bastion, but I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Bastion shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Your Highness.” He cleared his throat and recited:

“I am solemnly and sincerely sworn to protect the Princess Twilight Sparkle from any and all harm, and to serve her faithfully and honestly to my dying breath, and to obey her every lawful order to the utmost of my ability, lest I be struck down by the Royal Sisters themselves.”

“Goll-y!” Applejack exclaimed. That oath of fealty sounded like something out of windigo times.

“And I suppose that part about following my every order doesn’t include ordering you to hoof it all the way back to Canterlot?”

Bastion gave her a thin smile. “I believe that would fall under the category of ‘unlawful’, Your Highness.”

“And testing all of my food for poison?”

“Never was a thief caught by an unlocked door, Your Highness.”

“Augh!” Twilight groaned. “And that’s another thing! It took me weeks to convince everypony that it was still fine to call me ‘Twilight’; all of these ‘Your Highness’es are going to drive me crazy!”

Applejack broke in. “Well, did you tell Princess Celestia that you didn’t want a bodyguard?”

“I did, but it was no use. I tried to argue the point, but you know how stubborn the princess can get sometimes.”

Applejack smiled. “Ah’ve known a few princesses that can be a might stubborn from time to time.”

Twilight looked nonplussed. “I don’t need a glorified foalsitter!” She smacked her hoof on the floor for emphasis, something that reminded Applejack a lot of a young Apple Bloom throwing one of her temper tantrums.

“Sugarcube, have you given any thought to the idea that havin’ a bodyguard may not be just for your own good?”

Twilight cocked her head and set her mug on the table. “Huh?”

“If what you’re saying is true about the Gryphons wantin’ war, then Equestria’s gonna be in for some... interestin’ times. Unlike anythin’ we’ve ever seen before, ‘cept maybe Discord or Nightmare Moon.” Applejack shivered. “Ah know that Ah’ll sleep a little sounder knowin’ that you’re gonna be safe, Twi, and maybe that’s what the Princess is countin’ on as well.” She swept her Stetson off of her head and held it up to her chest. “Like it or not, you’re the only bit of royalty that Ponyville’s got, and maybe just seeing that you’re safe will make all of us feel a little safer as well. Just a little reminder that Princess Celestia’s lookin’ out for us.”

The rain was the only sound in the room as Twilight sat there for a minute, trying to digest what Applejack had said. Applejack wondered if she really knew how much she meant to them. Not just to her, Pinkie, Rarity, Rainbow, and Fluttershy, but to everypony in Ponyville. As much as Twilight tried to pretend otherwise, she was a Princess now, and a Princess had duties as well as privileges. Not just responsibilities like holding court or passing laws, but the duty to be there for everypony, and, Applejack shied away from the idea even in her thoughts, the duty to keep herself safe if... well, if anything bad happened.

“Sorry, Twi. Ah didn’t mean to run my mouth.”

Twilight sighed. “No, Applejack, it’s fine. Bastion here would probably tell me the same thing.”

Bastion wore a smug expression on his face. “I actually wanted to have a full platoon of guards for your escort, Your Highness, but Princess Celestia thought that would cause too much disruption for a small town like Ponyville. But I still could have a full complement of guards here on three hours’ notice.”

“Well, it’s not the worst possible thing. At least Celestia said that we could continue our research here in Ponyville. I could have ended up stuck in Canterlot if she had really wanted. That’s actually why I stopped by to see you, Applejack.”

“Beg pardon?” Applejack’s ears perked up.

“Well,” Twilight smiled, “right now Austenite is tearing through the basement lab of the library, trying to scrape together any material he can find to re-complete the plans for the prototype we had built, but if this project is going to get serious, we can’t keep working out of my basement. A tree in the middle of town is a little too much of a fire hazard for my tastes. And I could finally get Spike to clean down there again.”

“Ah’m sure he’ll be thrilled about that.”

The alicorn laughed. “Anyway, I’m looking for a place where we can work and not risk the entire town if it goes up in flames.” She made a face at her unfortunate choice of words. “Again. So I was wondering if Sweet Apple Acres had any land that you can’t find a use for. Celestia is giving me a budget now, so you and the Apple family would be properly compensated the value of the land...”

Applejack looked at her friend. “Y’all want to buy land from Sweet Apple Acres?”

Twilight nodded. “Well, yeah. All we would need is five or six hectares, and it doesn’t need to be any particular land, so long as it’s mostly flat. I’m prepared to pay you at or above market value.”

“Well, Ah’ve got no problems with selling you some land, sugarcube, but I should probably talk it over with Big Mac and Granny Smith first. Aw, shucks, and probably Apple Bloom, too. She’s gettin’ to be around the age when she’s gotta start pullin’ her weight on the farm, so she’s got to have a stake in it, too.” Applejack tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What are you planning on doing with the land, anyway?”

“Well...” Twilight summoned up a checklist ten hooflengths long. “We’ll need laboratory space, storage space, a machine shop, a drafting room...”

“Heavens to betsey, Twilight,” Applejack exclaimed, “are you plannin’ on buildin’ a whole ‘nother town out there? What you’re talkin’ ‘bout is a lot of construction work.”

“I know,” Twilight groaned. “I don’t want to think of what it’s going to take to actually get this research going again.”

“Why, you’ll probably need a couple of buildings bigger than the barn!” Applejack snorted. “You’re gonna run into problems when you try to cover that much area—in fact, you’d probably need a dual-pitch or a parallel chord structure just to hold up such a big roof...”

“Well, you’ve got experience building barns, Applejack. Would you be willing to help us build a new laboratory?” Twilight asked. Her eyes widened for a moment. “In fact, how would you like to work with us on the spell matrix?”

Applejack laughed nervously. “No can do, Sugarcube. Ah’d really love to help you out, but you know I’ve got my hooves full workin’ the farm.”

“Come on, Applejack!” Twilight chided. “You’d be perfect for the job! Work like this would be right up your alley!”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Twilight,” Applejack said.

“Applejack, tell me this. How many times have you built and re-built your barn?”

“Ah don’t really keep track of things like that, Twi. I don’t know, four times?”

“It’s been five times, just since I’ve been in Ponyville,” Twilight smirked.

“So what? Ah like to make sure that Sweet Apple Acres is good and taken care of.”

“So what!? Applejack, you love doing things like this!” Twilight crossed her hooves. “Applejack, you spend hours tinkering with your cider press. Your idea of a good time at your family reunion, the one thing that would redeem it, was construction and manual labor!”

Applejack’s cheeks burned a deep shade of crimson. “Well, Ah... So maybe it does sound fun. But Ah still got my responsibilities to Sweet Apple Acres! Ah can’t just leave all the work to Big Mac—”

“Who said anything about abandoning anypony?” Twilight asked. “All I ask is that you help out for a few hours a day—that would leave plenty of time for the farm. And you’d be paid, of course,” Twilight giggled.

“How much?” Applejack asked.

“Oh,” Twilight thought out loud, “how does two hundred bits a month sound?”

Applejack’s head rocked back and she whistled appreciatively. Two hundred bits was a fair portion of what Sweet Apple Acres brought in in a month, and Twilight wanted to pay her that much just working a few hours a day?

“Ah have to admit, Twilight, that’s a mighty generous offer.”

“Well, that’s what Austenite tells me that somepony working part-time would make in a firm in Trottingham, so I thought it would only be fair.”

“Fair?” Applejack repeated. “You don’t know how much that would mean for the Apple family, sugarcube. Tell you what, Twilight. Ah’ll take the job, and Ah’ll give you a discount on the land, too. But there’s just one thing Ah’ll need your help with first...”

* * *

“Yargh!” Austenite screamed as the fifth rainbow-hued bat buzzed low over his head, tiny fangs threatening to latch on to him. The tiny, strawberry shaped bat rejoined a squadron of its compatriots, circling around to get ready for another attack.

Applejack called out to the pegasus. “Austenite, Ah’ve told you- if you ignore them, they’ll leave you alone. Right now you’re only encouraging them by runnin’ around like that.”

Applejack, Austenite, and Twilight, now always shadowed by Bastion, had come down to survey the land that Twilight was going to buy. Sweet Apple Acres was still soggy from the storm the afternoon before, and the grass squelched as the four ponies walked through the western orchard. Applejack wasn’t lying when she said that this place was perfect for them—the land was nice and flat, and as an added bonus, it wasn’t too far of a walk from Ponyville.

The only problem was the fruit bats.

“Applejack, how long have these bats been here?” Twilight asked from under a magenta bubble. Now and again, a particularly stubborn bat would fly at the shield, only to rebound into the air with a flat drumbeat. Bastion contented himself with firing low-powered bolts of magic at any of the creatures that came too close to them.

“They’ve already gone through refraction, so that means they have to have had at least a litter or two.”

“Well, we started noticin’ them three summers ago, because they’d try to bite us when we bucked the nest trees. Haven’t been able to use the western orchard since.”

“Well, why aren’t they trying to turn your face into fruit salad now?” Austenite grumbled. He yelled again as a swarm of red, strawberry shaped ones came around for another pass. The pegasus gave a flap of his wings and leapt over the swarm, eliciting a laugh from the farmer.

“Cuz Ah’m not gamboolin’ around like a pig wrangler on a summer’s day.”

Maybe the bats just ignore Applejack—some kind of quid pro quo for not using the western orchard?

“Well,” Twilight said, “we’re going to have to figure out some way of moving these bats. We can’t work here if we’re constantly getting attacked.”

“Maybe Fluttershy knows a way to get rid of the varmints,” Applejack said. “Ah’ll see if she can ask them to move their nests to the Everfree or somethin’.”

“I’ll add that to the checklist.” Twilight laughed as Austenite narrowly avoided the swarm once again. “Austenite, come over here.” She dispelled her shield and allowed the pegasus inside. He nodded his thanks as the swarm on his tail broke off and flew away, evidently in search of other, lower-hanging fruit.

“Or, we can configure a spell matrix to project a shield over the whole place,” Austenite suggested.

“Austenite, the prototype spell matrix can hardly lift a feather, and you want to project a shield over the whole building? It’s going to be larger than the library twice over!”

Austenite gave a flip of his hoof. “It’s only a prototype, Twilight. We’ll get the efficiency up. We’re going to take this thing to the moon, for Goddesses’ sake—when the spell matrix is state-of-the-art, we’ll be able to project a shield over all of Ponyville!”

“It’ll keep Rarity away, that’s for sure,” Applejack quipped. “Ah’m sure a big purple bubble won’t jibe well with her sense ’o fashion.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Or, for right now, I can talk to Fluttershy.”

“Okay,” Austenite sniffed, “plan B, then.”

“Ah know this is work y’all are doin’ for the Princesses, but this side project of yours... After dealing with Nightmare Moon, why do you even want to go to the moon?”

“Applejack, you know as well as I do that Luna’s creation doesn’t have anything to do with Nightmare Moon anymore,” Twilight admonished.

“So why do you want to go, then?”

“Why do I want to go?” Twilight parroted Applejack’s question. “What can you tell me about the moon? What can anyone tell me about the moon?”

Applejack shrugged. “Uhh... it’s round?”

“Exactly!” Twilight threw her forelegs up in the air. “The moon has been over our heads for all of time, yet the sum total of ponykind’s knowledge of the moon is that it’s round, grey, and it rises and sets each night.” Twilight held her foreleg out, hoof upwards. “What’s it made of? How far away is it? How big is it? How did it get there—some kind of gargantuan spell?”

“Well, why don’t you just ask Princess Luna?” Applejack offered. “She was imprisoned on the moon for a thousand years. Don’tcha think that she knows?”

“She won’t tell me.” Twilight’s ears flattened against her skull, and she lowered her head. “I’ve asked her before—she says that she doesn’t remember much from her banishment, and what she does, she wishes she didn’t.” A pang of sadness crossed over Twilight’s face. “I wouldn’t want to put her through that again, not even in memory.”

“Besides,” Austenite butted in, “it’s not like she happened to have any proper scientific instruments in her saddlebags when she was banished. And what would she write down her data on, anyway?”

“There are just so many questions. And I want to know the answers. I want to know everything there is to know!” Twilight exclaimed. “And what better way than to go there ourselves? Can you imagine?” She stopped for a moment and gazed up into the sky. “Can you imagine standing on the moon? Looking up and seeing Equis hanging in the sky?”

“That’d be... wild,” Applejack breathed. Even Bastion nickered at the thought.

The ponies emerged on the top of a small hill, where they could see clearly what Applejack had in mind for the buildings. Twilight pulled out a roll of parchment from her saddlebags, ready to write down anything important.

Twilight normally reveled in the minutiae of organization, making checklists and charts and mapping everything out, but not even coordinating winter wrap-up compared to this. And there was no way the three of them could do it alone. They would need construction workers, they would need more engineers, ponies who specialized in gems, and enchantment, and in any number of magical fields. There would be schedules to write and keep to, materials to be bought... it would be a daunting task, even for Twilight.

Applejack pointed out different flags she had planted in the orchard below. “So I reckon this here’ll be a good place to build the main buildin’—y’all can see the electrical lines over the hill there, so gettin’ power won’t be too hard. Clearin’ the land will give us plenty of lumber, but we’ll need nails an’ fittings an’ the like. Of course, at first it may be hard to cart in any equipment, but—”

Twilight listened to Applejack talk, but her mind wasn’t really on the words anymore. She knew that she could listen to the entire conversation from memory later on. For now, she merely looked at the other ponies around her—an old friend, a new friend, and a royally-mandated ‘friend’—as the gravity of the situation sank in. It was one thing to sit and plan, to draw up lists, but it was quite another to actually be out in the field, looking out at a field of trees and knowing that the future of her work—and quite possibly the first steps on a journey to the moon—would rise from that very spot.

* * *

“How fast do you think we’ll be able to move out of here?” Austenite asked Twilight after he spit down his quill, taking a break from the drawing he was working on. “Don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing quite so... interesting as a basement project, but... a machine shop, proper facilities? A staff?” He grinned. “At the rate we’re expanding, we’ll be on par with any firm you could care to name.”

Roam wasn’t built in a day, and neither would be the new laboratory. Applejack might have the plans done over a particularly idle afternoon, but clearing the land, bringing materials, hiring workers, all of that would take time.

“Mm-hm,” Twilight responded absently, concentrating on her notes. “I’ve told Princess Celestia we would be ready to begin work in earnest again in a few weeks.”

“You told the Princess?”

“She asked me to keep her informed on our progress.”

The basement was filled with the sounds of two quills scratching on parchment as the two resumed working. Twilight put the finishing touches on yet another letter to a prospective colleague, and reached out with her magic for another sheet. She would have quite a lot to mail out the next morning.

“Twilight?” Austenite asked nervously.

She looked up as the pegasus called her name. She could see his eyes looking back at her over the top of the drafting table. “Yes, Austenite?”

“What exactly are you telling the Princess?”

Twilight gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean, ‘what am I telling her’? I’m sending her progress reports now—I’m sure that’s what Celestia expects now that we’re working for her.”

“You’ve told her about the new lab?”

“Mm-hm.”

“...Have you told her that we’re still planning on travelling to the moon?”

“I haven’t told her we’re not planning on it...”

“Well...” Austenite walked over to her desk. “Are we going to tell her?”

“I—I haven’t decided yet,” she said lamely.

That’s the million-bit question, isn’t it? Do I tell Celestia and take the chance that she’s changed her mind, or do I risk her displeasure when she finds out? Twilight’s thoughts surprised her—she couldn’t remember if she’d ever lied to Celestia before. I must have, at some point—did breaking into the Starswirl the Bearded wing of the library count?

She was Princess Celestia’s Faithful Student. She owed everything to her, and it went against everything she ever learned to conceal anything from her teacher. But now she was also the Princess Twilight Sparkle, equal of the Royal Sisters, an alicorn in her own right. Princess Luna was right, she was her own mare now, by any measure of the phrase. Celestia no longer had veto over everything she did.

But it was Celestia who had always kept her safe, always had her best interests in mind. Hay, we might still be under the iron hoof of Nightmare Moon if I hadn’t made friends like Celestia asked.

“You know she’s going to find out eventually,” Austenite chided. “I mean, she’s got her own personal spy, doesn’t she?”

Twilight bit her lip, and glanced at Bastion, standing by the basement door. It surprised her that she hadn’t thought of him immediately. Perhaps it was a sign that she was getting used to this bodyguard idea, if Bastion was blending into the background for her. It was no use trying to hide anything, of course—even if they could obfuscate their plans, there was no way that they could build an entire spaceship under his snout without him catching on. But that only mattered if he did report to Celestia.

“Bastion has sworn an oath of fealty to me, personally. As such, you cannot lie to me?” she questioned the stallion.

“No, Your Highness.”

She posed the question, if only to satisfy Austenite. “Then do you report to princess Celestia?”

“If she asks for my appraisal of the security situation, I will respond.”

“But is he telling her anything else?” Austenite blurted out.

Twilight gave him a flat look. “You know, Bastion is right there. You can ask him yourself.”

“It is my duty to safeguard any information I may hear in confidence. Unless of course, it involves acts such as treason.”

Austenite, still suspicious, stepped up to him. “Last time I checked, working on a side project didn’t qualify as treason.”

Bastion refused to look down at the engineer, preferring to stare straight ahead and remain silent.

Stallions, Twilight nickered. “You see? Nopony is spying on anypony. Now can we get back to work, please?” She levitated her quill again, and resumed scratching onto the parchment.

With only a momentary pause, Austen’s quill rejoined hers.

* * *

The gryphon, Kaspar, looked down over his beak at the newcomer before him. “Name?”

The shorter gryphon bowed, sweeping the tips of his wings on the stone floor. “Zeichner Eckhart, of the Rotekralles, at your service, sir.”

Kaspar frowned, and wondered how this cub could possibly be the best that Stonecliff could send him. The fact that he was young either made him a prodigy or someone’s son. Four Winds, I pray that it’s the former. A prodigy can learn, eventually. Someone’s son? More difficult, and I can’t be rid of him so easily. He had no bad blood with the Rotekralles. Even though there were few gryphons who could touch him, he preferred not to make enemies.

He held the silence and continued to stare down at him. Eckhart shifted from paw to paw under the elder gryphon’s gaze.

Nervous, Kaspar thought with a note of satisfaction. That’s good. At least he isn’t an idiot.

“Engineering claw?”

“No, sir. The King’s School.”

“Ironworking?”

“Electricity,” the gryphon said quietly.

Kaspar leaned back and considered the cub again. Yes, he clearly knew his place, which ruled out noble birth, but there was a hardness in his eyes that did not shine of fear. He had a look of... wariness, one that far outstripped his age. This young gryphon didn’t know who he was, but knew that he should be treated with caution, like a bare wingblade. The Equestrians were one thing, and would remain aloof until snow caught fire, but there were few gryhpons that could meet his gaze with such coolness.

“And what do you know of me?”

“That you are to give me work, sir.”

“That may very well be true.” Kaspar leaned back. “Tell me, what do you know of magic?”

Eckhart furrowed his brow. “I would hardly consider myself to be knowledgeable on the subject, sir.”

“Indulge me.”

“Well, sir, the only thing I know of magic is related to the unified field theory. As of course you know,” the younger gryphon said, tactfully avoiding the idea that there was anything Kaspar didn’t know, “the theory states that, in effect, magic and electromagnetism are the same, merely symptoms of some overbearing field. But my texts didn’t delve into much detail,” he admitted. “As I understand it, there is some higher-dimensional mathematics that is certainly beyond me. Of course, it’s even beyond most of our scholars, seeing as there hasn’t yet been a gryphon born with a horn.” He clicked his beak.

“How would you like to be the first?”

Eckhart’s mask broke as he fixed Kaspar with a perplexed stare. “Umm... the first... gryphon with a horn, sir?”

“What? No!” Kaspar facepalmed. “No, the first expert!. The first to truly synthesize earth forces and magic?”

“Oh! Erm, I see, sir. Yes, sir, I would like that very much.” The youth nodded emphatically.

“Good. Then I do indeed have work for you. And I will warn you now,” the elder gryphon said as he leaned back over the desk, “this is not for you to write some paper.” He brought a claw down on the desk for emphasis. “I expect you to put results in my claws.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Now, you will report directly to me, and only to me. You’ll have all the resources you will need, no matter the cost. You’ll have the notes of my last researcher, but that is it. You will work alone, and you will find yourself on the mountainside with your wings broken if you attempt to divulge anything.” Kaspar smiled. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Eckhart nodded. “Just... the gryphon on the project before me... can I not confer with him?”

Kaspar laughed sharply. “No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

Eckhart pressed further. “Conduct an interview under observation, maybe?”

“No.”

“And why not?” he demanded.

“Because he’s dead. I can throw in his autopsy, if you want.” That shut the cub up. “And before you think it, no, I did not have him killed. He suffered an accident of purely his own design. Which you should probably take care to keep in mind.”

Kaspar lifted a leather-bound case and pressed it into the stunned Zeichner’s claws. “Here. All of his notes, and the original blueprints. The guard outside will show you to your workroom. Oh, and a word of advice?” he called as Eckhart stood to leave. “If I were you, I’d steer clear of anything he wrote on the last page!”

Author's Note

Aaaaand done. Done with university for this year. I've resisted the urge to jump off the nearest bridge I could find, so now I can focus on writing again! I'm down to one chapter in the hopper, but, barring any unforseen events, I should be able to deliver content on-schedule!

Chapter 6: Trial and Error

CHAPTER SIX: TRIAL AND ERROR

Eckhart didn’t look up as he heard the workshop’s heavy iron door open. It would be one of the guards, here to change the rubbish bins, or to drop off the new materials he asked for. At worst, it would be Kaspar himself, there to breathe down his neck and throw around words like ‘progress’. There were no other visitors to his gilded cage.

He was free to go anywhere he chose. But it always just so happened that five or six guards would be going the same way he was, and every shop or beer hall he stopped at would be devoid of patrons, save for those same stone-faced gryphons. He was sure that after he left, these places were turned upside-down to see if he had left a dead drop of any kind.

The door closed, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He was no prisoner—in fact, the guards jumped at his orders as if he were a general, assisting him in his testing, delivering him his parts or resources. That part wasn’t all that bad—they were just about as smart as the assistants he was used to working with, and were about three times quieter, too. But there was a line. Eckhart knew as well as his employers did that he was dead if he so much as twitched a feather out of place. He was a craftsman, not a soldier, and even the puniest of his guards had talons as thick as his beak.

And then there was Kaspar. The gryphon, he had learned, played an ambassador in public life, serving ten years in Equestria. But now he was here, apparently in command of this facility. Add to that the intelligence that he received from what had to be the Equestrian analogue to his work, and that left only one possibility in Eckhart’s mind.

Kaspar was a Blackwing. He had made a deal with a Blackwing. And that scared him more than Tartarus itself.

Every cub claimed he had a brother in the Blackwings, but Eckhart had never before had the misfortune of meeting one in the flesh. He was worse than the stories. The stories made no mention of the sheer routine of secrecy, the matter-of-factness and precision with which he went about his duty. He adhered to a formula hewn over centuries of practice. What Eckhart had taken as a threat when they had first met was nothing of the sort. A threat would imply uncertainty—Kaspar was merely informing him of his fate should he choose to run.

Keep doing what you’re doing, and do it right, and fame will be yours. Cross me, hinder us in any way, and you will die.

Kaspar might even have another dozen engineers working in another dozen laboratories, just in case one of then needed culling.

He should have listened to his instincts then. He should have said ‘no’. But the deal had been made, and he chose, quite literally, to live with his choice. He had used his life as collateral to work on the cutting edge of science. If he succeeded, his work would be the envy of gryphons everywhere. His name would be spoken across all of Equis.

All he could hope was that he lived long enough to see that fame.

* * *

Applejack winced and stifled a groan as a stray bolt somehow ended up underhoof, despite the care she took picking her way through the cluttered shop. Between crates full of materials and bits of machinery lying about, trying to reach the center of the shop was like having to blaze a trail through the Everfree forest. The light from the morning sun was filtered once by the huge windows on the back wall, and filtered again through a layer of dust that had settled on them in the past weeks. This mixed with the electric bulbs overhead and gleamed off of broken parts and miscut gems that littered the shop floor. There, in the middle, Austenite had made himself a veritable nest of half-built assemblies, stacks of drawings, and any tools he thought he might possibly need at some point in the future.

Shoot, Applejack thought, massaging her hoof for a moment, a nest is probably the right word for it. That pegasus must just fly right over this mess to get out. When he gets out. She wondered if he had food squirreled away in there, too. It was still early in the morning, early enough that none of the others had arrived at the lab yet. Big Mac and Apple Bloom were handling the apple stand, so she had all day to work at the lab. She had been surprised to see the lights already on, and came over to investigate.

She finally made it to the pegasus’ domain. Austenite had his nose buried in a machinist’s hoofbook, reading out something about threading. He looked up to scribble something on the drawing he was working on when he noticed Applejack standing there. He simply stared at her blankly for a moment before responding.

“Hey, Apple…” He blinked twice. “…Jack?”

“Ah guess that answers my question about ‘got up early or stayin’ up late’,” Applejack laughed. “You should really take a break and catch some shuteye, Austenite.”

“Nah, I’m doing this instead. Working is much more interesting. Sleep is for the bored.”

The orange pony cocked her head to the side. “Uhh... how long have you been here, sugarcube?”

Austenite tapped his chin. “Hmm... Two days? Er, three now?”

Applejack gave him a lopsided grin. “Austenite, sleep deprivation isn’t your friend—take it from me, it’s a lesson you don’t want to have to learn the hard way.”

“Oh, I know,” the engineer said casually. “I’ve spent long hours on projects before, and it doesn’t get bad until I reach the seventy-two hour mark. Usually. It got really bad when I was working on my last product at Wright’s. I don’t remember what happened, but they told me that I couldn’t get out of the drafting room because I was pushing on a latched door for a half an hour.” He chuckled to himself as he stared off into space. “That’s when they took away my machine shop privileges,” he said with a tiny pout.

“Um,” said Applejack, scratching her mane with a hoof, “Ah really don’t know what to say to that.” She looked around at the various drawings the pegasus had unrolled. “What’cha workin’ on, anyhow?”

“Trying to boost the efficiency of the spell matrix. The, ah... the old prototype only got, uhh... around... four percent efficiency.”

“Four percent efficiency?” Applejack repeated.

Austenite actually blushed at that. “Hey, that was just the mark one, alright?” the pegasus said, gesturing at one of the drawings. “We’re losing a lot of energy to heat, and I think it has something to do with the way that we’ve aligned the primary gems. So if we can adjust the gems with this—” he hefted a circular component with three gems mounted around the outside “—and monitor the change in power, and we should be able to get figures for the—”

“Austenite, did that chuck come off my lathe?” Applejack asked.

His hooves tightened around the piece reflexively. “Maybe. So like I was saying, we’ll be able to adjust the speed and distance to see if that affects the efficiency!”

Applejack sat down and folded her forelegs. Sure enough, when she looked over at the machine, she saw it in pieces, belts thrown loose from the overhead power shaft. Applejack sighed. If it aint him tearin’ somethin’ apart that aint workin’ right, then it’s him tearin’ somethin’ apart that is workin’ right. And in the name of all things oats and apples, if he’s so much as laid a hoof on my—

“Sorry, Applejack.”

“Excuse me?” Applejack quirked an eyebrow at the pegasus.

“I said, ‘sorry, Applejack’,” Austenite said again. “Do you want me to put it back?”

“Yes!” Applejack’s snap response came out a bit too harsh for her taste. She shook her head. “Ah mean, of course Ah do, but... Ponyfeathers, if this is important, go for it. Just remember to put it back when you’re done, will ya?”

“I will, I promise!” the engineer called, trotting over to the lathe to set up the test. He had already dragged gem-studded armatures into position around the machine, and Applejack saw that there were even a few gems taped to the lathe itself.

Applejack watched as he reassembled the machine. Dear Celestia, remind me to never let that stallion in the same room as Apple Bloom and the Cutie Mark Crusaders... unless Ah’m lookin’ for a giant pile of scrap wood where the furniture used to be!

* * *

Austenite stepped back from the testing rig and wiped his brow, somehow managing to transfer more grease onto his face than he wiped off. “Alright, let’s see if this works.”

He nodded to Applejack, who in turn bit the huge lever on the shop’s motor and turned it on. The mighty piece of equipment came on with a hum, and soon the line shaft overhead was turning away steadily. He made a last-minute adjustment, angling the prototype towards a sprocket he’d set on the floor as a target.

“Alright,” Austenite called over the whir of the machines, “It’s up to speed... engaging magical power... now!”

Nothing.

“nnnnnnnnnnnnnn...now!”

Still nothing.

“Sugarcube, Ah don’t think it’s gonna start workin’ just because you said it again.”

“No... No, no,” Austenite muttered. “Why in Tartarus isn’t it working!?” The gems were spinning away, and even glowing white with potential, but the bucket still sat there, stubbornly obeying gravity.

Applejack jumped as he slammed a hoof into the side of the lathe. “Dammit! I double-checked this! It’s supposed to work!”

“Woah, nelly!” Applejack caught his hoof before he could hit it again. “What are you hittin’ my lathe for? Calm down there, sugarcube.”

“Trust me, Applejack! Machines always respond to corporal punishment!”

She caught his hoof again. “Or we could try thinkin’ this through like intelligent ponies.” Applejack sighed. “Maybe we need to adjust somethin’? Hmmm...” Applejack said, advancing toward the machine. “What if we tried...”

* * *

“Twilight, if you want to go over to the lab, just say so! I can finish shelving things here. It’s really no big deal,” Spike said as he slotted a heavy tome back into its proper place.

“Spike, just because I’ve got other things to do doesn’t mean that I can just abandon the library. I still have a job to do here, and I’m going to get it done.” Twilight held a few dozen books with her magic, sorting them and dropping them to Spike to be re-shelved. “Besides, it’s still early. We can finish this up, and I can get there at least a quarter of an hour ahead of schedule.”

“I’m already covering for you here at the library most days,” Spike added. “Why not just let me run the library full-time?” The dragon grinned. “You can go work at the lab, and I can have your salary here. Paid in gems, of course.”

“Well, I—” Twilight began, only to be cut off sharply as Bastion crashed into the room.

“Your Highness! There’s an intruder in the Library!” The stallion wasn’t panicked, but his chest still heaved as he held his magic at the ready. Even before Twilight could set down the books she was holding, her protector was already shoving her bodily towards the basement door. “Your Highness, we need to get you to safety now!”

“Bastion—Hey! What’s going on!?” Twilight yelled angrily, pushing her hooves against the wooden floor, twisting around to try to get away from the stallion. “Just what do you think you’re—”

“Twilight, move!” It was the first time that Bastion had ever dropped her title, and the sheer commanding tone of that voice, practiced from twenty years of drilling cadets, finally galvanized her and Spike.

Here was the door, and Bastion wrenched it open and shoved Twilight inside. Spike just barely managed to get in before Bastion slammed the door again.

“Whatever you do, don’t open the door until I say so!” she heard through the thick oak. Then came the sound of hooves bolting back up the stairs.

“Twilight, what’s going on?” came Spike’s confused voice.

“I don’t know, Spike.”

She sat there in the darkness listening to her heart race. An intruder in the Library? What did he mean? Twilight lit her horn to cast some light in the pitch-black basement.

Suddenly, a pink apparition spoke from right in front of her.

“Silly Twilight! You shouldn’t leave your spells sitting all around! You know how it makes my nose itch!”

Twilight nearly jumped out of her skin. “Pinkie Pie!” she gasped, “What—how? What are you doing here!?”

Pinkie Pie smiled and cocked her head to the side. “I wanted to borrow a book! This is a library, isn’t it?”

Twilight took a moment to breathe, and to let the staccato rhythm of her heart slow back down to a normal speed.

“Pinkie, how did you even get in here?” Spike asked incredulously.

“Shh, Spike! Otherwise they’ll find us!” Pinkie mock-whispered, ignoring the dragon’s question. “Or are you pretending to go spelunking?”

Just then, a light appeared from the stairwell, and Bastion descended the steps.

“Your Highness, it’s safe to come out now. I couldn’t find anything, and the way my spells were going off, it had to be a false—” He jumped as he saw Pinkie Pie staring back at him, and before Twilight could say anything, Bastion had encased Pinkie in his blue magic and slammed her against the earthen wall.

“Bastion, no!” Twilight shouted.

Bastion stopped with his horn pressed against the pink pony’s neck.

“Oh,” he sighed, and let his shoulders sag. His magic evaporated, and Pinkie, not even dazed from hitting the wall, bounced to the floor. “The Pink One. Celestia’s bright sun, can’t you use a door?” he said angrily.

Pinkie blew a raspberry at him. “Silly, where’s the fun in that?”

Bastion looked like he was about to blow a fuse. “She triggered twelve of my tripwire spells all around the library in three seconds. How is that possible!?”

Twilight shrugged and deadpanned, “It’s Pinkie Pie. I’ve narrowed it down to either a freak effect of quantum physics, or she employs a dozen changelings all disguised as her.”

The four of them made to climb out of the basement. Behind her, Twilight heard Spike chuckle.

“What’s so funny, mister?”

“Oh, I was just wondering what Bastion’s gonna do the next time Rainbow comes to visit.”

“When the next what?” the stallion asked warily.

Twilight laughed as well. “Oh, I just wonder how your shield will perform against a fifty kilogram, Daring-Do-seeking missile.”

Bastion only grunted in response.

While Spike attended to Pinkie Pie’s book request, Twilight finished getting ready to leave. As she was packing her saddlebags, a thought struck her. She shot Bastion a questioning glance.

“‘The Pink One’?” Twilight smiled lopsidedly. “You make it sound like she’s the Headless Horse.”

“Even if they weren’t the Elements of Harmony, do you think I wouldn’t have had a thorough briefing on your friends and acquaintances? Besides, she’s been in the Guard’s files for a few years now. We tend to keep track of ponies who’ve smuggled cannons into the capital on multiple occasions.”

“You may have a point there,” Twilight giggled.

She held the door open for Pinkie. “Alright, Spike, we’re leaving. And don’t forget to send off that report when you’re done, or the princess is gonna have my horn!”

Twilight, with Bastion in tow, turned to head over to Sweet Apple Acres.

“Uh oh,” Pinkie said, stopping and standing bolt-still, all except for her vibrating tail. “Twitchy tail!” she immediately jumped into a nearby bush, only her nose and eyes poking out. “Twitchy tail!” she cried again.

“Twitchy tail?” Bastion repeated. He looked back at Twilight, and became even more puzzled at the sight of the alicorn crouching under one of the great branches of the library. “What in Equestria is a—Waugh!” he cried as Twilight grabbed him with her magic and dragged him, tail first, under the branch as well.

“No time to explain! Twitchy tail!” Twilight said breathlessly.

Twilight moved him not a moment too soon. She and Bastion were showered with clumps of dirt as a whizzing shape suddenly came spinning down out of the sky and embedded itself in the ground right at their feet. The shape revealed itself to be a metal sprocket, parts of it glowing dull red from heat. There was shocked silence for a moment as everypony stared at the impromptu meteor.

“Is...is that it, Pinkie?” Spike called wearily, leaning out from behind the door.

Pinkie inspected her tail for a moment. “...Yep! Clear skies for the moment. Thanks for the book, Twilight!” She tossed the book onto her head and bounced off.

Bastion furrowed his brow. “Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that—”

“—That somehow that gear came from the Lab?” Twilight finished, using the nickname she so derided in her moment of consternation. She started galloping in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres, and Bastion raced to catch up.

“Just a gut feeling!” she yelled back over her shoulder as smoke started curling up from the distant orchard.

* * *

The two ponies stood in silence, looking at the brand new, sprocket-shaped hole in the ceiling. Behind them came the sounds of what was left of the lathe winding down, half-melted sections of belt smacking into things as it spun slowly down.

“Well...” said a rather blackened and singed pegasus.

“...Yup...” replied a similarly blackened and singed earth pony.

“That was... well, the word ‘successful’—” The pony winced as he heard something heavy fall from the ceiling behind him ”—while it could be argued is an accurate representation of what happened here, is not the first word that comes to mind.”

“Nope,” was all the other one said.

“... So what did you try that time?”

“...Ah tried puttin’ it in ‘reverse’.”

“...Ah. That would do it.”

* * *

“Well, aside from the time it’s gonna take for these two to regrow their fur, they should be just fine. They didn’t catch it too bad in the first place.” Dr. Stoneheart twisted and turned Austenite’s head in his grey hooves, examining the pegasus’ injuries.

“Is there anything else they should do for treatment?” Twilight asked nervously.

Stoneheart shrugged and continued packing up the first-aid bag.

“Yeah. They shouldn’t go around trying to burn their faces off again.” He released Austenite and set about tugging the rubber socks off of his forehooves. “You know what real burns can do to a pony? It ain’t pretty. Goddesses!” Stoneheart cursed. “Er, uh,” he stammered, looking apologetically at Twilight, “no offence, your Goddessfulness.”

“Hmph,” Twilight grunted. “I’m just glad that everypony is going to be okay.”

Ever since they’d started working at the lab, she'd been worried that there would be accidents like this, so even if she had to put up with some of his more... insightful comments, Twilight was glad that she’d hired the stallion. On the one hoof, Stoneheart may have seemed like a sarcastic, snarky, crotchety old hack—because he was a sarcastic, snarky, crotchety old hack. On the other hoof, he just also happened to be one of the best doctors Twilight had ever met.

While some ponies stubbornly maintained that only unicorns could ever be really successful at the medical profession, Stoneheart only ever took that as a challenge. He possessed a dexterity with a scalpel that could match even Rarity's telekinetic precision, and he had a knack for fixing, with a few quick cuts of his ‘primitive’ scalpel, problems that could take a horned surgeon hours of spellcasting. He was truly a master of his craft.

The only problem was that he knew it, too. Stoneheart's unhidden contempt for, and Twilight was quoting from a multitude of disciplinary notices in his file, 'those lazy horned bastards', hadn't made him the easiest pony to work with. Hence why Stoneheart had been... between positions when Twilight asked him to come work for her, which made even the salary she was offering look appealing.

With everything all squared away, he withdrew his pipe from his coat. He settled it in his mouth, and struck a hoof across the flint-lined rim, sending sparks flying and setting its contents alight.

Austenite winced and pulled away from the shower. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll make a note to steer clear of fire. Sounds pretty hazardous.” He wrinkled what remained of his brow at the good doctor. “Who ever heard of an earth pony learning how to smoke, anyway?”

“Hey!” Stoneheart jabbed his head in the pegasus’ direction. “I swore a Hippocratic oath, not a hypocritic oath. By Tartarus, I can do what I want to this body. Besides, it helps relieve the stress.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and turned away from the duo. “How’s it looking, Zircona?” Twilight asked a luminescent blue pony. “Did you find anything?”

Crystal ponies were somewhat of an uncommon sight in Equestria , and in the small town of Ponyville, the luminescent pony would draw crowds of onlookers, with Rarity in the lead, of course, whenever she went out in public.

She looked up from her abacus. “Well, I haven’t double-checked my numbers yet, but, well—” she gestured to the hole in the ceiling “—these results tend to speak for themselves. Even factoring in all of the rotational energy from the lathe, this arrangement of the primary gems has increased efficiency at least fifteen-fold.”

“Fift—” Twilight almost repeated like a foal, before she shut her mouth with a snap.

Zircona nodded. “Sixty percent, at least. And that’s probably pessimistic. Austenite’s been using store-bought gems again.” She sniffed disdainfully at the lesser craftsponyship of the cheaper gems. “I can think of a dozen ways to improve the geometry of the crystals. We’ll get you seventy-five percent in a day, Twilight, no problem.”

Twilight could see Bastion bristling at the omission of her title, but Twilight had made it clear to him on multiple occasions that she was much happier just being called ‘Twilight’. That didn’t stop her personal guard from calling her ‘Your Majesty’, of course. Twilight sometimes wondered if he kept using it just to taunt her.

“Thank you, Zircona, that sounds great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to copy some notes down.”

“Of course.”

Twilight turned to walk out of the shop and toward the small office she’d had built down the hall. As she opened the door to the hallway, Austenite sidled up next to her.

“There’s no doubt that it’s pessimistic,” Austenite added. “I’ve got a feeling we were spinning the gems way too fast. Give my mechanical team two weeks to work out the kinks, and we’ll have something real to show the Princesses this time.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Twilight kept her eyes on the passageway ahead. “Because I just heard back from Canterlot this morning. Princess Luna wants to visit the lab personally to check on our progress.”

Austenite stopped up short for a minute at the news, and had to trot for a moment to catch back up.

“When is this inspection?”

“I don’t know. Sometime in the next few weeks. No doubt she’ll want to come sooner now that we have this breakthrough to report.”

Austenite glanced surreptitiously behind them, checking if anypony else was in the hall.

“Well, it’s Princess Luna, not Princess Celestia, so we’re not sunk yet.”

“Austen!”

“What?” the pegasus said with a hard tone barely above a whisper. “You know as well as I do that Princess Celestia doesn’t approve of this little side project of ours. And, since I’ve read all the memos you sent out, I know that she doesn’t know because you haven’t told her yet.”

“That’s because we haven’t built anything yet,” Twilight said. “But I’m sure that princess Luna will ask about it. And if that’s the case, we’re going to tell her—” she continued talking to forestall Austen’s comments “—regardless of where we are on the design. And that means that Celestia is going to find out.” Twilight sighed. “No more guilt by omission.”

They reached the door to her office. “I’m going to put your...” she paused and put a hoof to her chin. “Well, the word ‘discovery’—”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” He smiled and waved her comment away.

“Anyway, I’m going to put it in this report to the princesses.”

“Alright.” The pegasus nodded. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find Snap Punch and Die Cast and see if we can’t figure out what in Tartarus we actually did.”

With that, the pegasus continued on down the hall, and Twilight smiled as she watched him go, then turned into her office. She had a report to write, and for the first time in weeks, she had something good to report. What with my friends almost getting skewered, almost being smashed by a speeding sprocket, and setting fire to the shop, it’s about time something went our way!

* * *

“At last, some progress,” Celestia mused.

“Some progress?” Luna said. “I would call it nearer the cusp of victory myself.” The Night Alicorn took back Twilight’s report and read a section aloud: “I am fully confident that by the time of your visit, we will have quite an exciting demonstration waiting!” She looked back at Celestia. “Sister, your student has very nearly done it. Even if the gryphons managed to reverse engineer the prototype spell matrix, there’s no way they can compete with the state of the art! We have the advantage again! The Hegemony will have no choice but to back down when they hear of this.”

“Do not count your eggs before they’ve hatched, Luna,” Celestia cautioned. “The Hegemon will hardly be cowed by a device that can only levitate things. There is still the matter of convincing Twilight to turn her device to more useful purposes.”

“You mean weaponization,” Luna stated.

Celestia flinched at the word. “Yes,” she sighed. “You will have to talk to her when you make your inspection.”

“I will have to direct her?” Luna asked, putting a note of challenge into her voice. “But she is your student. Would she not be more amicable if you were to ask her? She would simply obey if you told her!”

“I will not order her to make a weapon,” she said curtly. “I want no part in this.”

Luna huffed. “You are going to renege your support now!?”

“No,” Celestia responded testily, “I know that this is very much needed. You are the one who convinced me of that, dear sister. But I cannot in good conscience order my student to do this.”

Celestia turned away from her towards the window they shared, thrown open to the late spring night. Beyond the castle walls, Canterlot gleamed with a thousand pinpricks of light.

“Do you remember what it was like when you were lost, Lulu? The war, the terrible things that Nightmare Moon did... the terrible things she forced me to do?”

“You know I saw every minute of it.” Luna squirmed. Even three years after her release... she did not want to think of Nightmare Moon.

Celestia continued. “Then, as now, we were in the heat of invention. The gryphons had ended their petty squabbles, the changelings were driven back, the zebra tribes were beginning to build real cities. Equestria, no, all of Equis, would have entered a golden age.”

Celestia’s shoulders drooped. “Then Nightmare Moon corrupted it. All that potential, twisted and turned away from righteousness. My little ponies turned all of their talents toward destruction. And what talent it was.”

“Sister, I know. I saw it too. Spells that could stop a beating heart. The Screaming Statues, and all that,” Luna said. “But sister, ponies will always reach forward. Nothing can stop Progress” She licked her lips. “We can’t stand in the way of this. Our duty has always been to shepherd our little ponies on their journey, not to shield them from the world,” she intoned.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past thousand years?” Celesta lamented. “Even with so much destruction there was a silver lining: a chance to begin anew. I did shepherd my little ponies. I tempered their curiosity with compassion, paired their ingenuity with a sense of restraint. All to keep them from repeating the mistakes their ancestors made.”

Luna laid a wing over her shoulder, and gently shook her sister. “And for a thousand years, you succeeded! But now—”

“But now things are moving faster,” Celestia said, a note of fear creeping into her voice. “I had my doubts, the first in a long while, that I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” She smiled. “But now that we stand together again, there is no storm, no discovery, that we can’t weather!”

Luna stood mute for a second, staring into the forced optimism on her sister’s face. “You’re still bent on seeing this through to the end,” she said quietly, her expression hardening.

“You’re damn right I am,” Celestia snarled. “You said it yourself—it’s our Sacred Duty—and there’s nopony better suited than us.”

With that, Luna removed her wing from the embrace, and turned to leave. “Then in the name of all those who died last time, I pray you are right.”

Author's Note

My editor was surprised at how accurately I described science. To paraphrase:

"Way too much science is like this: wait… what did we do differently that time?

...and why was Fluttershy dressed like Hitler?”

Chapter 7: A Caveat

CHAPTER SEVEN: A CAVEAT

“...and it’s ‘Your Highness’, not ‘Your Majesty’. Make sure you remember that. Oh! And make sure you bow low enough. Everyone remember the bow that we practiced? Die Cast, you remember? Okay, good, goo—no, not low enough, Snap Punch!”

Twilight smiled to herself and shook her head. She’d thought that she was nervous about this visit. Luna was scheduled to arrive within the hour, and Twilight and company stood waiting on the new dirt road leading from the train station up to the lab. She contented herself to waiting patiently, but it seemed that Austenite needed to let off steam.

“Something funny?” came a growl from behind her.

“Oh, it’s just funny watching Austenite.”

“And knowing that you’d be doing that if he weren’t?” Spike deadpanned.

“Watch it, mister.” She bucked playfully, making Spike wildly grasp at her mane for a moment. He laughed sheepishly and looked around, trying to see if anyone caught his momentary slip. Only Bastion was close enough to observe. The stallion remained as stoic as ever, so Spike crossed his arms and tried to play it off.

“Hey, I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em,” he said coolly. “Admit it. A year ago, you would have been freaking out about something like this! I guess those leadership lessons with Cadence really paid off.”

“Well, a year ago I wasn’t a princess,” Twilight said with mock-sereneness. “A princess can’t run around ‘freaking out’. It’d be bad for morale.”

“That didn’t stop you when I accidentally spilled jam on that letter to Agatha last week,” Spike grumbled.

“Oh, hush, you,” Twilight said as they were joined by Austenite and Applejack.

Aside from Applejack’s stetson and Bastion’s light barding, there wasn’t a stitch of clothing in sight—this was supposed to be an informal meeting, Luna had insisted. Despite this, Bastion had informed her that Luna would be arriving with a full platoon of the Royal Guard. He’d also taken the opportunity to not-so-subtly remind her that he was still her only bodyguard.

This time, Twilight couldn’t brush off the question of security, not in the face of the steadily-worsening news from the north. Crystal Empire scouts had been reporting increased gryphon activity for weeks now. There were even rumors of entire claws of gryphon regulars being marched toward the Crystal Mountains. Her correspondence with her brother wasn’t hopeful, either. He’d had to evacuate all the crystal mining camps and escort the civilians to the safety of the city.

Through everything, Twilight had remained adamant that she didn’t need any more guards, which she had said, maybe in not so many words, whenever Bastion brought it up. Then, suspiciously soon after one such conversation, she received another letter from her brother. He’d spent his last few letters urging her to outfit herself with a proper security detail. Now, he was threatening to come back to Equestria, stuff her in the deepest, most secure room in Canterlot Castle, and sit on her if she didn’t.

In the end, Twilight had had to acquiesce. Which was why, when Luna left, she would be leaving sixteen guards under Bastion’s command to ensure the protection of the Princess Twilight Sparkle.

And she’d only just gotten used to one hulking protector constantly following her around...

“Everything ready?” she asked Austenite.

“No technical difficulties today,” he said sheepishly as he pawed at the ground with a hoof.

“Nervous?” Twilight asked with a grin.

“Everypony else was,” he quipped. “I was just, ah, reassuring them. You know, having met the Princesses before, and all that.”

“I see.” She turned to Applejack. “And how are things on your end?”

“Well, it took us a while, but the workshop’s clean as a whistle. ‘Course,” Applejack said as she playfully punched Austenite’s shoulder, “it didn’t help that your chief engineer here was tryin’ to pull stuff out faster than we were puttin’ things away.”

“You mean disrupting my workspace. I had everything exactly where I wanted it!” Austenite whined.

Applejack looked at him incredulously. “Disruptin’ your workspace? Sugarcube, you’d stacked a bunch of open paint cans under the desk in your office.”

“What was I supposed to do with them? Clutter up the hallway?”

She turned to Twilight. “He had pushed all the toolboxes in front of one of the bathroom doors.”

“Huh. I thought we used to have two of those.”

“Anyway, the place should be spic ‘n span from top to bottom.” Applejack tossed her a casual salute.

“And just in time, too,” Spike said. “Look!”

A dot in the sky over Canterlot split into two, then split again. Soon enough, a wave of ponies was spread across the sky, headed right for them. It was a salt and pepper formation, with both the pure white of Celestia’s guards and the jet black of the Night Guard. A team of four pulled a huge skywagon, presumably filled with unicorn and earth pony guards. In the middle of the huge formation flew the Princess of the Night herself.

They came in low over the treetops, passing over the group of researchers with a huge gust of wind. The formation, Luna in the lead, circled in a tight loop and touched down hard, making a textbook-perfect combat landing. As the dust settled, and the dazed engineers picked their jaws up off the ground, earth ponies and unicorns began pouring out of the skywagon. Pegasus patrols were dispatched to sweep the skies, and unicorns began scrying the land for any sign of danger. Luna’s arrival at Sweet Apple Acres had become the largest invasion the Royal Guard had mounted in over a thousand years.

“Hmm, a bit slow. Perhaps they aren’t working hard enough now that your brother is taking care of things in the north,” said Luna, watching the organized chaos unfold. “Still, the landing went as smoothly as anypony could’ve hoped, so it’s a start, at least.” She flicked a bit of dirt off of her forehoof, and flashed Twilight a wolfish grin. “And it’s just as fun as I remembered it.”

“Welcome, Your Highness,” Austenite said, the cue for everypony to bow. All the researchers bowed suitably deeply, though Twilight wondered why it was necessary, considering the fact that they’d all been acting like fainting goats a moment before.

Luna nodded serenely, “Thank you, Austenite.” She spied the orange pony to his side, “Ah, Applejack, my athletic friend! It has been too long.”

“Since last Nightmare Night, Your Highness.” Applejack swept her stetson off her head and bowed again with surprising aplomb.

“And Princess Twilight.” She turned to the shorter alicorn. “In charge of this fine bunch? Not quite befitting your station yet,” she teased, “but we’ll work on that later. Lieutenant?”

A soldier trotted up to her and came smartly to attention. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Finish securing the area. And be sure you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the captain here.” She nodded towards Bastion.

“Yes Sir! Yes Ma’am! I mean, Yes Ma’am! Yes Sir!” The lieutenant fired off a series of rapid-fire salutes that were liable to sprain her fetlock, then flew off.

“And that is what worries me so,” Luna said as she watched her go. “Shining Armor took our most experienced companies with him. Most of the ones that are left look more like foals playing guard than the real thing. I know their training is superb,” she said as Bastion opened his mouth, “but there’s always something missing until they first taste blood.”

Twilight spoke up. “Luna? Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hoof instead of all this talk about—” she gulped, and glanced at the ponies beginning to squirm around her “—blood.”

“Of course.” The princess gestured towards the others. “Please, introduce the rest of your team.”

* * *

“As you can no doubt see, Your Highness, with the new rotary field, we can achieve a much higher degree of control than the prototype did. This also improved the efficiency by a significant margin—over sixty percent...”

Austenite tuned Zircona’s words out. She was doing fine—much better than he had done the first time he’d been in front of the Princesses. Besides, she was edging into the magical theory now—Twilight would be able to answer any questions the Princess had.

Despite the rocky start to the visit, his team had hit their stride once inside. It was a simple matter to show her the various models and prototypes, and demonstrate the different spells they could achieve. He and Twilight were escorting Luna around a tour of their workshop, shadowed as ever by Bastion. Spike had excused himself on ‘urgent business’ back at the library—probably for a very important nap. The pegasus smiled to himself. Years of living in Canterlot had probably taught the dragon how to avoid social functions.

As they came around, ponies would explain what they were working on, then it was right back to work. Despite the rank of their guest, Austenite was determined not to let the visit turn into a day off for everypony else. They had too much work to do already.

They spent perhaps an hour on that part of the tour. Luna seemed engaged, asking questions and commenting on everything she was shown. Twilight also seemed calm, but he couldn’t suppress the feeling that they were all just going through the motions, like the tour was just a prelude to some larger issue that was hanging over the visit. He knew Twilight could sense it, and he could see her trying to project an air of composure. So far the other ponies weren’t catching on, but his feeling of unease kept building the more they walked.

There had to be another purpose to Luna’s visit. And in the face of that unknown reason, Austenite’s brain kindly supplied him with all manner of wild suspicions. He couldn’t believe that Luna was there to shut them down. Luna had been their patron almost from the start—she’d even defended them in front of Celestia herself! But perhaps she was just the bearer of bad news? Maybe Celestia had decided that she didn’t need the spell matrix after all, and she had decided that Luna could break it to them easier? But Twilight was Celestia’s favored pupil—surely she would be able to talk to her? The walking gave him plenty of time to worry over every possibility.

“Well, Twilight,” Luna said, nodding approvingly as they closed out the tour in the drawing room, “I’m impressed by the way you’ve organized things here. You’ve made more progress in the past two months than I think anypony would have expected.”

The young alicorn smiled demurely. “Thank you, princess. I couldn’t have done half as much without everypony’s help.” She nudged Austenite with a wingtip. He smiled and opened his mouth to express his thanks as well.

“You’re going to shut us down, aren’t you?” Austenite blurted out instead.

Twilight, Luna, and Bastion all turned to stare at him. He kicked himself mentally—if they were being shut down, then bluntness wasn’t going to win over anypony.

“My apologies.” He cleared his throat. “You’re going to shut us down, aren’t you, Your Highness?”

Twilight facehoofed. He shot her a confused look. What? That was the polite way to say it, right?

Luna laughed. “No need to fear, Austenite. I’m not here to shut you down. Just the opposite, in fact.”

“The opposite?” he repeated.

“Yes. More bits, more material, more ponies. We will send you the top ponies in magical theory. Austenite, you’ll have carte blanche to skim anypony you want from the firms in Trottingham.” She swept a forehoof out before them. “Name it, and it is yours.”

The words were almost mesmerizing. What could he do with a tenfold increase in resources? A hundredfold? They would be ready in a weeks, not months. And then after? His rehabilitation! Offers from all the top firms, begging him to come work for them—no! They would be working for him! It would be his name on the wall. And all it would take was to say yes…

And that made warning bells ring inside his head.

Austenite frowned. “No offense, Your Highness, but I know a sell when I see one.” He turned to face the goddess, eliciting an intake of breath from Bastion. “Celestia gave us what little we have and just sent us on our way—why the offer of support now? What’s the catch, Luna?”

“You mind your tongue, pegasus!” Bastion growled at the omission of her title, stepping forward. “You best remember who you’re—”

“Bastion.” The single word was a command, and the guard instantly froze. Luna had said it as calmly as ever, but a deaf pony could recognize the displeasure in her tone.

“Your Highness. You can’t just let—“

“Captain, please,” she cut him off again. “This is going to be difficult as is. Perhaps it would be best if you left us for a moment. Princess Twilight’s guard must still be organized.” The words seemed to fade in the padded silence of the drafting room.

Bastion’s head drooped. “Of course, Your Highness. Your Highness,” he turned to Twilight, “I must attend to my duties.”

Twilight nodded, and the stallion slunk out of the room, tail between his legs.

“My apologies, Twilight,” Luna said after the door had shut again. “I did not mean for that to be quite so harsh, but I would much rather talk to you two alone.”

“What is this about, Princess?” Twilight asked uneasily.

Luna hesitated for a moment, weighing her words. “It is true—we want to give you all the help you need. We just require—that is to say, Equestria requires—a great many things from your spell matrix.” She tilted her head side to side. “The device you have shown me today is capable of a fantastic variety of spells already, but we require something more... ambitious, perhaps? Capable of some rather complex spells.”

“What kind of spells?” Twilight said, eyes narrowing.

“Spells that I would have to teach you.”

“Black spells?” Twilight asked alarmedly.

The room was silent. “War spells,” Luna said after a moment, “yes.”

Twilight’s eyes hardened. “You want me to design a weapon.”

Luna smiled mirthlessly. “You are so much like my sister, you know that? Yes. What we need is a weapon, desperately. You are one of the most gifted spellcasters I have ever seen, Twilight. With my knowledge and your skill, I’m sure we can come up with what we need.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can,” Twilight said indignantly, “but I don’t want to. I won’t.”

Austenite couldn’t hide his shock from his face. He knew that what he had done moments ago had breached a thousand years of ceremony, but somepony refusing to obey one of the Royal Sisters?

The Night Princess grit her teeth. “So extremely like my sister,” she hissed. “Before summarily dismissing the idea, did you even consider why we need this?”

Twilight crossed her hooves. “We’re not making a weapon.”

The Princess of the Night frowned. “War with the gryphons will come—that is my sincerest belief. They’ve attacked our home. They’ve stolen your work. The dignitaries and diplomats are still playing out their parts, but the course is inevitable. And however much Celestia detests the idea of war, she sees it too. The gryphons have gone too long without a challenger, and worse yet, they see our northern lands as their right. War will come in months, if not sooner, and we cannot afford to be caught unprepared.”

Again, silence invaded the drafting room. Luna looked down at Twilight, and Twilight stared out the window. Austenite said nothing. He’d learned a while ago that in times like these, it was easiest just to shut up and let the alicorns duke it out.

Luna cocked her head. “Twilight, your brother is the Captain of the Guard. Can you tell me how many the Royal Guard number?”

Twilight consulted the ceiling for a moment. “Around sixteen hundred, right?”

“Sixteen hundred sixty-eight, to be exact. And do you want to know my estimates for the size of the Hegemony’s army? Ten thousand.” Luna’s eyes glittered icily. She paused to let the number sink in. “Ten thousand strong in times of peace. With a few months’ notice, we figure we can draft another two thousand ponies. But that would hardly change the balance. Celestia and I agree with one another, for once—“ she grimaced “—that in our current state, we would be destroyed if it came to open war.

“That’s why we need you. Because without your spell matrix, Equestria will fall under the gryphon claw. We need an ace in the hole, a wonder weapon, something that will make the gryphons afraid to take a single step across our borders.”

“I-I d-don’t,” Twilight mumbled. “I mean, I wouldn't know the first thing about—”

“I do, though.” Luna said smugly. “I will teach you the war spells, and you will make the spell matrix craft them in turn. Simple, really.”

“This is what you wanted from the start.” Twilight finally turned away from the window to look back up at Luna. “To use our work to build a weapon.”

“It was one of my intentions, I will be honest with you,” Luna admitted. “But by no means is it the only thing I hope will come of your work. Just one necessary thing you must do to ensure Equestria’s survival,” she said earnestly.

“She’s right, Twilight.” Austenite finally spoke. “We may not want to do this, but we need to.”

“I know she’s right,” Twilight all but snapped. “I’m not an idiot, just as I’m not unaware that she specifically mentioned my brother to appeal to my pathos. Sorry,” she relented. “It’s just—“ she wrung her hooves in consternation “—how are you okay with this?” she asked Luna. “How can you just—just come here and ask me to make something that could kill thousands?”

Luna’s cyan eyes turned steely. “We can because we are princesses, and we have a duty to protect the ponies of our land. And I expect you’ll feel guilt and sorrow. I still feel regret over my actions a thousand years ago, even though I… wasn’t myself when I made them. We wouldn’t be equine if we didn’t feel those things.

“But you’re a smart pony, Twilight. You know that if we don’t follow this course of action, more ponies are going to die, and many more will have their lives destroyed.”

Twilight looked like she wanted to set fire to the whole room. “You’re right—I don’t like it,” she said sourly.

“It’s good that you hate this.” Luna smiled. “Maybe that way you won’t make the same mistakes we made a thousand years ago.”

“And what mistakes were those?” Austenite asked.

Luna pursed her lips. “The mistake in thinking that everypony was as ready for progress as I was. And believing that there was no measure too drastic to achieve that progress. But you two…” she considered them for a moment. “You could do it right this time. You could revolutionize all of Equestria without resorting to bloodshed.”

”Besides murdering countless gryphons,” Twilight deadpanned.

“A whole river of gryphon blood wouldn’t even come close to the atrocities Nightmare Moon committed.”

“But how many ponies could die in this war?” Twilight asked. “You said it yourself—the guard is outnumbered more than ten-to-one! Even if our spell matrix gives us the edge you think it will, the gryphons can’t help but notice that as well.” she pointed out. “And if they reverse engineer our prototype…”

“Then they’ll have an expensive parlor trick,” Luna scoffed. “Your prototype is a foal’s plaything compared to the models you have now! The gryphons know about as much about magic as an earth pony knows about flying.”

“But it’s there if they know how to look for it,” Twilight said.

“If they know how to look for it,” Austenite stressed. “It took the smartest unicorn and the… okay, maybe the fourth smartest pegasus in Ponyville to lift a feather, and it took us four months to do it at that.

“There is that,” Twilight agreed.

“It’s settled then,” Luna said definitively, before Twilight could qualify her statement. “I will teach you the spells. For the sake of security, only you two will know their true workings. You will configure the spell matrix to perform these spells, and then—“ she flashed a wolfish grin “—we prepare them for the field.”

* * *

Luna had retired from the drawing room, off to go find Bastion and make up for bruising the stallion’s ego. Twilight and Austenite remained, though.

“It’s necessary—”

“But it’s not right. Why does it sound like we’re trying to justify it?”

“We’re not. It wasn’t our decision.”

“We could still have said no, Austen.”

“You would have said no to one of the Royal Sisters?”

There was an uncomfortable rustling of feathers.

“Three years ago? No.” Twilight sighed. “But three years ago, I thought wars were only in books—none of those casualty figures meant anything. Three years ago I would have gone along with it out of blind trust. Now?” she said with wide eyes, “Now my brother could be numbered among the dead. Anypony we know could be.” She grimaced. “Now I go along with it because I actually agree with them.”

“Well, let’s save the morality for when the safety of the kingdom doesn’t rest on our shoulders.”

Twilight nodded firmly. “We have work to do. And Luna promised us anything we could ask for.”

“Anything we could want. So what’s the next step?”

The alicorn smiled. “We start building.” The two partners shared a knowing look.

“We start building them their weapons, and we start building our spaceship.”

* * *

“More, sir?” Eckhart looked up as a stack of papers slid onto his workbench.

“More,” came Kaspar’s smug voice. “Does it look like this will be of any use to you?”

Eckhart flipped his lenses up from his eyes and peered at the new delivery. “As a matter of fact, it does, sir.” Eckhart slowly rose, his eyes fixated on one of the pages. “Of course!” He wheeled around and padded deeper into the workshop.

Kaspar followed behind him, careful not to let the cub’s excitement infect him.

“Of course! How could I not have seen it? Of course this is the way to make the primary field uniform!” He shook the paper at the spymaster. “This is it! This is the last piece.” He read the notes again, as if to reassure himself that they were real.

“This is good news, then?” Kaspar pushed.

Eckhart nodded emphatically. “Oh yes, sir! With this, everything else falls into place.”

“Good. Then how soon can you have something ready to test?”

“A few weeks. A month at the outside.”

Kaspar smiled. That was something he had wanted to hear. That meant that Project Redoubt wouldn’t have to be moved back.

“And how powerful will it be?”

Eckhart smiled thinly. “The question, sir, is how powerful do you want it?”

Author's Note

Sometimes I'm really glad my editor doesn't live in a time where eugenics is considered a valid field of study...

Chapter 8: Fatal Flaw

CHAPTER EIGHT: FATAL FLAW

“He did say ten o’clock in the morning, right? He didn’t mean ten at night, did he?”

“Of course he meant in the morning. At least, I think he did. Austenite wouldn’t call a meeting for ten at night, would he?”

“With the hours he keeps? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him leave. Or come in. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a knock on my door at four in the morning asking if I can come in and help him with something real quick.”

“Ha ha. Yeah, won’t take more than five hours or so. Celestia! I’ve never seen a stallion more married to his job.”

“Is that all he’s married to?”

“Psh. As far as I can tell, he’s all yours, Snap,” Die Cast japed, and Snap Punch sputtered, looking down to hide a blush that showed even against her red coat. Die Cast gave her a playful elbow. “Maybe you’re looking forward to that call at four in the morning.”

Zircona and Applejack exchanged a glance, and Applejack snorted. As much as Die Cast and Snap Punch were talented engineers, sometimes she couldn’t help but see two fillies just escaped from school. In truth, they were only a few years younger than she was. They’d also graduated from Princess Luna’s College, and in the top fifth of their class, to boot. Those two unicorns had more smarts than Applejack figured she ever would.

“Maybe you’d like to sit on my horn and spin,” Snap Punch mumbled.

Then again, maybe there was a reason Applejack was still senior to them.

“No thanks.” She stuck her tongue out at the other unicorn. “I’ve got my eye on that new waiter at the Hay Cafe. You know, the cute black-coated one?”

Zircona rubbed her temple and glanced at the clock. “It’s been fifty minutes now. Should somepony go get him?”

“Hey, I’m fine with waiting,” Snap Punch said. “All I’ve got to look forward to today is a calibration on the linear detector.”

“We really do need to get started,” Zircona cautioned. “There are some problems with the gem resonance we still need to look at.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’? Aren’t gems more your area of expertise?” Die Cast grumbled. “Just let me look at steel and bolts...”

Zircona’s coat briefly went opaque as she struggled to contain her annoyance. “It’s still related to the spell architecture,” she said testily. “You’re a unicorn, right? What do you think that thing sticking out of your head is for? Nevermind—don’t answer that.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Anyway, I’ve checked out the individual gems twice now. There’s no problem with transmittance. So here we are, looking at everything together—or, we would be, if your boss would show up.” She rolled her eyes. “Twilight may be a real dirt-driver sometimes, but at least she’s always on time.”

“Hey, let’s not get our manes all in a tangle,” Applejack said uneasily. “Why don’t Ah go see if Ah can’t find our missin’ stallion.”

No sooner had Applejack made to get up than the door whisked open and deposited Austenite into the conference room, laden down by a massive pile of blueprints. The other ponies watched in silence as he walked around to his place at the table and started organizing his things.

“Sorry we’re late, boss,” Die Cast snarked.

Austenite glanced her way. “Oh, not a problem, Die.” He stopped and blinked owlishly as his ears finally registered what he had said. “Er—Cast. Sorry. I had some time-critical things I needed to wrap-up as well.”

When he had arranged his place to his satisfaction, Austenite looked up and flashed a breathless grin at his engineers. “Okay. Are we ready to get started?”

With a flick of the hoof, he sent a blueprint unrolling along the table. The drawing crinkled as its two meter length rolled along. The end came to rest hanging off Die Cast’s side of the table. It was a massive and intricate drawing, so densely layered with notes and annotations that it was like a set of old ruins obscured by a forest.

There was a moment of appreciative silence. Die Cast and Snap Punch looked over the drawing with practiced ease. Applejack and Zircona, with less training, had more of a struggle reading it. Still, Applejack was getting better, and the intuition she’d gained from years of working with her hooves was making it smoother by the day.

Applejack had to admit to herself that she hadn’t been quite on-board with this project when she started. She thought Austenite had been all hat and no cattle, with all his talk about the possibilities of their invention. Twilight she trusted, but Twilight could also be a little to... optimistic about her studies. Being an earth pony didn’t help, either—not having wings tended to color a pony’s views on being magically suspended kilometers in the air.

But as she watched the idea grow into a design—and even put in a few suggestions herself—the pair’s infectious excitement caught her, too. Applejack doubted she would set foot in the contraption anytime soon, but she could actually believe now that they really were building something that could change the future of Equestria.

“Okay,” Austenite said with an air of resignation, “so we might have some issues to work out with the current design. Namely, if we turned it on now, resonance between the two matrices would eventually cause the gems to liberate their energy instantaneously. Which, I am led to believe—” he consulted his notes again “—would be a bad thing for everypony within a fifty-meter radius. So we need to go back to the drawing board.”

“We never left the drawing board,” Snap Punch mumbled, poking at the roll.

“Well,” Zircona said, “there are two options that seem obvious to me. We can either move the matrices further apart, or we can make the fields more streamlined.”

“How much further would we have to move them?” Applejack asked.

The crystal pony consulted her notes. “It would have to be at least forty-three centimeters more of separation. And we’ll probably have to test the levels again at that distance. Margin of error, and all that.”

“Well, we can easily get another fifteen centimeters’ distance. After that, we’d need to completely redesign the lower hull assembly,” Austenite said. He bit his lip as he looked over the plans. “How much more can we streamline the gravity spell architecture?” he asked.

“Not really sure, boss,” Die Cast mused. “It’d take a while. I mean, it took a while just to find a configuration that works.”

“Hmm.” Austenite tapped his chin. “Are we still using the gem layout that Twilight’s using for the magicannon?”

Die Cast quirked an eyebrow. “Um? Unless you changed it sometime last night, I think so.”

Applejack pointed a hoof at the drawing. “So we’re not using a matrix that’s been optimized for gravity spells?”

“Oh, no no no,” Snap Punch moaned. “You’re not seriously suggesting we go all the way back to gem placement, are you?”

“Hmm. That’s a good idea, Snap.”

The unicorn blinked in shock. “...What?”

Austenite glanced over at Zircona. “How much do you think we could get out of that?”

She shrugged, purposefully ignoring the frantic shaking of heads coming from the foot of the table. “It’d probably give us the best improvement.”

Alright then,” Austenite said, leaning back with a definitive nod. “Applejack? I’ll want you to help me move the spell matrix mountings. Snap Punch and Die Cast, you’ll be looking at optimizing gem placement for gravity spells.”

Both unicorns went slack-jawed. With the way their colors drained, Applejack reaffirmed her joy at being an earth pony.

* * *

Austenite was pretty sure he could count the number of productive meetings he’d ever been in on one hoof. It seemed like it was physically impossible for more than two ponies to agree on something without taking an hour to debate it. Of course, that was never his fault—sometimes it just took longer for other ponies to realize they were wrong. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be ten times more productive alone.

Still, bureaucracy must be served, he thought as he gathered the drawings and rolled them up, pushing the ends in neatly with his wingtips. He supposed there might be some merit to the idea—after all, it wasn’t like engineers to stubbornly hold onto an idea that was outdated and useless just because it was what they were used to.

It’s nice to see Snap Punch and Die Cast starting to take the initiative, he thought, nodding to himself—he’d noticed that it had been their idea to—

His ears twitched at the sound of a creak, and he realized that he was not the only one left in the room. He looked up from the papers and saw a pony still leaning in the doorway.

“What’s up, Applejack?” he asked as he snapped shut his case. “Is this about the tolerance on the adjustment pins? Look, I know that it’s a little beyond our capabilities here, but I really think it’s necessary. Every millimeter of precision we get—”

“Ah know, Austen,” she waved him off politely, and walked around the table to stand next to him. “Actually, Ah was wonderin’ if you’d like to come to lunch. With us, Ah mean. Ah was plannin’ on meetin’ the girls at the Hay Café at around a quarter to noon.”

They both looked up at the clock. Twelve oh three.

“Well, it’s not too late. Anyway, it’s nothin’ fancy,” she assured him, “no need to dress. I know Twilight would wait for us.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh. Uh, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to impose on you and your friends,” he said depreciatively.

Applejack’s smile slipped a notch. “Ah would hope you’d consider us among your friends, Austen. Ah certainly count you as one of mine. Ya sure you wouldn’t consider it, sugarcube?” she pressed further. “Ah’m sure that everypony would be pleased as punch to see you there.”

He looked past her for a moment. “Oh, no. I do consider you a friend, Applejack. It’s just... no thanks. Not today.” he said finally, pulling a sheet from the stack and noisily unfolding it. “I really have to figure out how I’m going to move this mounting bracket.” He smiled at her. “Can’t let Twilight’s team get too far ahead of us, right?”

She watched the stallion hunker down into the drawing. “Alright then,” she said slowly. “If you’re sure.”

Austenite was already engrossed in the pages. Applejack turned and headed out of the drafting room.

* * *

Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow looked up at the sound of trotting.

“Sorry Ah’m late, y’all,” Applejack called, a little out of breath from the run down from the laboratory. “Austen’s meeting ran a bit late.”

“No problem, Applejack. We’re still waiting for Fluttershy and Rarity,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop in at all this morning—I had to speak with those ponies from Canterlot. Did I miss anything important?”

The orange pony shook her head. “Just a few problems here an’ there. Ah’m pretty sure that Die Cast and Snap Punch are gonna need your help with somethin’.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be sure to talk to them about it later today.” She cocked her head. “Did you, ah... did you ask Austen about coming?”

Applejack pursed her lips. “He said he had too much work to do on the project,” she said.

Twilight was about to speak when Rainbow Dash groaned and rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you guys are always talking in riddles about this stuff. Can’t you tell us what you’re doing over there?”

It was Twilight’s turn to shake her head. “Sorry, Rainbow. It’s classified.”

Rainbow took a little flying leap and did a front flip, coming to a crouch next to Twilight. “But the Princesses have you working on something to help fight the gryphons, right? That has to be it!”

Twilight gave a gloating little smile. “Sorry, Rainbow. Still classified.”

“Gryphons. Hmph. They’ve been sabotaging my work for years now,” Pinkie said, crossing her hooves.

“You’re talking about... Gilda, right?” Dash asked.

“Sometimes,” Pinkie muttered, looking around shiftily.

Rainbow looked back at Twilight, who shrugged.

“Well,” Rainbow continued, “I still know a few ponies at the Wonderbolt Academy, and one of them told me that she overheard two of the flight instructors saying that they’d overheard Spitfire telling Soarin that they’d received orders to expedite training. And now you’ve got more guards than I’ve seen travel with the Princesses. Something’s got to be up.”

Twilight looked around at Bastion and the three other guards standing lookout around her friends. Twilight Sparkle’s Three Ring Circus. At least, that was what it felt like to her, with four bodyguards escorting her now. She had thought it couldn’t get much worse than just having one ever-present protector. But now, eating out at a restaurant was like organizing the Hearth’s Warming pageant.

There were always two guards standing stoically in front of the library, too. And guards at the lab. And she saw the way that Ponyville looked at them. Ponies she’d spent months trying to convince that she was no different from them, no different than when she’d just been a unicorn. Now everypony that greeted her had to pass under the scrutiny of her guards.

Rarity’s arrival freed her from having to make a return comment.

“Hello, darlings!” She greeted them with a huge smile. “Sorry we’re late—for some reason, there was a tremendous line at the spa today.” She glanced behind her, and giggled. “Oh, Fluttershy, dear, it’s fine. They’re with Twilight.”

She stepped to the side to reveal the pegasus scrutinizing Twilight’s guards.

“Fluttershy, you’ve met Bastion, right?” Twilight smiled and pointed at the other guards in turn. “This is Ashlar, Corbel, and Onager.”

The last one shot an unsure glance at his superior, and Bastion leaned in towards Twilight and cleared his throat. “Oriel, Your Highness.”

“Oriel.” Her cheeks reddened, and she glanced down at her hooves. “I’m so sorry—”

The stallion dismissed it with a wave of his hoof. “It’s okay, Your Highness. There are sixteen of us, after all.”

“Well,” Rarity said eager to leave the awkward situation behind them, “now that we’re all present, shall we?” She turned to flag down a waiter. “Yoo-hoo!”

A charcoal-black unicorn in a tidy white shirt and bowtie appeared and bowed. “Hello, ladies and gentlecolts, and welcome to the hay café. May I have a name, please?”

“Ah, yes. You’ll find the reservation under Princess Sparkle,” Rarity said loudly. “Erm, party of six,” she said a bit more delicately as Twilight fixed her with a flat look.

The waiter smiled serenely, and gave another short bow, this time to the alicorn. “Of course. Your table is ready, ladies and gentlecolts.” He lifted a hoof to show them inside.

“My name is Graphite, and I’ll be your waiter this afternoon. If you’ll follow me?”

* * *

“So, get this,” Rainbow said in between mouthfuls of bread. “Crafty Crate was telling me that he thinks the gryphons are secretly raising an army of changelings. So I told him to stick to shipping things and leave the thinking for smart ponies like Twilight here. Why would they need a secret army when they have a real one?”

“I don’t know, Rainbow,” Twilight said for what felt like the hundredth time, and took a sip of her water. She tried to ignore the ponies staring at them from around the restaurant, only looking away when the gaze of one of her guards passed over them.

Rarity leaned forward and touched Twilight’s foreleg with concern. “But surely you must have some kind of insight into this, Twilight,” she said. “I don’t mean your work—I know you can’t divulge that.” She dabbed at her mouth to stall for time. “But as your brother’s sister, you must have a good feel for his disposition?”

She shrugged. “My brother is very careful with what he writes. I know as much as you all do. Princess Celestia is doing the best she can to come to a peaceful solution to the current problem. But she will, of course, do everything within her power to protect Equestria,” the princess in Twilight said.

“Oh, oh! If there is a war, is Celestia going to make you a general?” Rainbow grabbed at the table, shaking glasses. “I pulled out my old weather team contract, and it turns out that the weather team is actually part of the reserves. Maybe I’ll get to serve under you!”

“Lieutenant Dash, of the napping brigade,” Applejack deadpanned.

Rainbow settled for blowing a raspberry at her.

* * *

Graphite tried to shut out the noises of the kitchen around him as he focused on the menus in his magical grip. Despite his efforts, the menus fluttered like leaves. Even after all the years of training, his body could still betray him. He could control his nerves, but the primitive part of his brain still flooded him with adrenaline.

It had surprised him. He knew about the lunches the princess had with her friends—he had reported them to the gryphons himself. But the order had come down, and when he saw the target standing right there, it was all he could do not to bolt like a foal. He had used every last ounce of calm to seat the group and retreat to the kitchen.

It wasn’t as if he had a choice anymore. When he’d first started taking jobs for them, he knew that working with the gryphons would be dangerous. But he was smart enough not to be pulled in, not to give them anything more than what they’d paid for. At least that had been his intention at first, but he’d grown complacent in their service.

He had no idea how they’d found his sister. He didn’t even know where she was anymore. The first thing he’d done when he went freelance seven years ago was destroy any records that connected him back to Bright Eyes, and he’d had no contact with her since. It would have taken him months to track her down. But they’d shown him a picture. It didn’t matter that it was recent, or even if it was entirely fake. They knew what she looked like, right down to her cutie mark. They would find her eventually. And Graphite had no doubt what the gryphons had planned if he disobeyed.

It didn’t matter to them that he’d spent the last month building his cover. He hadn’t relocated so much as he had fled from Canterlot. Celestia’s agents were on his tail. It didn’t matter how far behind, not to the gryphons. They would rather use him, and then cast him aside. And then they would make sure he could never be used again, by anypony.

He frowned at the menus, almost radiating his anger. He would succeed today. Then, he would kill his gryphon handler and go find his sister. They would go into hiding and leave the Gryphons and the Equestrians to their goddess-forsaken war.

Bit by bit, they stopped shaking and floated rock-steady in midair.

* * *

“It’s too bad that Austenite couldn’t join us,” Rarity said, innocently examining her hoof. “I would really have liked to meet him.” She looked up with a pointed glance at Twilight.

“Stop wheedling, Rarity,” Twilight said in-between sips of water. “You’ve already met, remember?”

“Oh,” the unicorn waved a hoof, “only for a moment. That’s hardly enough time to really meet somepony.”

“He’s very busy,” Twilight said.

“Hmph. Tell me about it,” Pinkie chimed in. “I almost never see him around Ponyville.” She whipped a chart and easel out from under the table, showing a chart with hundreds of bits of data. “His party attendance rate through yesterday is only ten point seven percent since he arrived.”

“Party attendance rate through yesterday?” Rainbow repeated.

“Oh, Dashie,” Pinkie said with an irritated sigh, “do I really have to spell it out for you? Anyway—” she flipped the chart over, revealing another graph. “—as you can see here, in the past two weeks alone, his party attendance rate through yesterday has fallen over two points to eight point two percent. The only other pony whose rating has fallen into the single digits is...” She bit her lip. “You, Twilight.”

Twilight set her glass down. Her friends were all looking at her, with expressions ranging from Rarity’s forced smile, to Fluttershy’s outright concern.

“We’ve all been really busy,” she said quietly.

“Pardon the intrusion, ladies,” the waiter interjected, providing a welcome relief from the conversation, “but your meal has arrived.”

Three unicorns approached with their meals floating steadily before them. Six covered platters swept down the table and landed soundlessly at each mare’s place. Twilight waited as the cover was whisked off her dandelions and candied pecans.

“Oh, Twilight,” Rarity said, eyeing her food, “you must tell me how those taste. That’s part of the new menu I haven’t had a chance to sample yet.”

Bastion gently lifted the plate to test its contents—a long way from the rough treatment he used to give her meals, and he’d become so much more—

—An angry chime. Bastion began to turn, and—

Pain filled Twilight’s world as the restaurant erupted into bedlam. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t. Her mouth wouldn’t open—she felt like she was wrapped in fiery chains. Silverware clattered as she flailed out of her chair. The floor came up to meet her, her spasming muscles forcing her cheek into the carpet. Her legs were kicking about uncontrollably. Panicked shouts from the tables around them turned into screams of agony as they caught the edge of the blast. She watched Bastion come to rest a few meters from her, waging his own frenzied struggle against the spell.

* * *

Graphite rode the electric wave of his spell, eddies and errant currents of magic burning against his skin. He didn’t have much practice controlling this spell, because it drew against more than his reserves of magic. He was damaging himself, but the tradeoff meant he could go hoof-to-hoof with the magical prowess of somepony like Twilight Sparkle.

And it was working. She was writhing on the floor. Her head guard was incapacitated, and the rest of them, rushing toward him like foals, would go down in his next blast.

He pooled his magic, and steeled himself again.

* * *

A second blow, and she lost herself again to the agony. She heard wood splinter as her hoof connected with one of the table legs. Ashlar, Corbel, and Oriel, who had only caught the edge of the first blast, were now flung aside as well, and again, there was nothing between Twilight and the assailant.

Then there was a weight pressing down on her, shielding her with their weight. There were hooves trying to hold down her legs. It was Rainbow, shouting something unintelligible into her ear. Twilight tried to scream, to yell at Rainbow to get out of the way, to run.

Even through the torture, she could feel the tug through the ether as her assailant readied another blow. Her guards became a blur, moving with lightning speed as the black unicorn reared up. But they were all out of position. They wouldn’t reach him before he released the disrupting spell. And this time, Rainbow would bear the brunt of it. There was no way the pegasus could survive a direct hit from that kind of magic.

* * *

He tasted blood. Graphite probed with his tongue and discovered he’d bitten entirely through his lip. He ignored it and searched for his target.

Ponies were running now, pushing madly for the exit, all except his target and her cohorts. She was still alive, somehow, lying next to one of her friends. Courtesy of her deep well of magic, he supposed. But he was still on his hooves, and while there was still breath in his body, he could still attack.

He let his magic charge, and tried to draw a bead on the alicorn. But one of the pegasi was in the way, and he couldn’t waste a shot. He stepped forward to angle down from above—

He heard an impact, and suddenly he was upside-down. It took his brain a moment to catch up to his body, thrown violently to the floor.

One of the bodyguards was back in the equation—the unicorn who had been standing behind the target. Graphite rolled, throwing his weight to the side as a bolt of magic flashed past, close enough to singe his fur. He got around behind an upturned table and tried to locate the other combatant.

Another bolt of magic came his way, shattering the table, but losing enough cohesion in the process that Graphite could block it with a hastily-erected shield.

He rolled out from the wreckage and hurled a chair at the guard. Promptly deflected. A vase, also deflected. His magical reserve was damaged, and he was straining what he had left. Graphite kept swatting away with his telekinesis, to keep the stallion off-guard. He couldn’t risk missing with a more advanced spell and creating an opening.

But there were three more guards, struggling to come to the aid of their compatriot. Graphite needed to take this one down fast.

He closed the distance, feinting a physical strike. The white stallion dropped his stance, at which point Graphite struck with a gout of fire of his own. The stallion roared in pain and rage at the dupe. It was good for Graphite—the stallion was losing focus. Now, to sideline him again. He stepped in close and reached for the double-edged spell once again. He readied a small burst—he only needed ten seconds to complete his task.

He wasn’t doing as well at sectioning himself off—this time the spell was more painful, and he was almost paralyzed for a moment. But his opponent staggered again, and Graphite smiled and turned to aim at the prostrate alicorn.

And the guard he had turned away from for the second time slammed him into a wall.

Dazed, Graphite slumped to the floor even as he screamed at himself to get back up. He tried moving his legs. One of them pointed away oddly and wouldn’t respond. He looked up, and saw the big, white, and not-at-all-nice-looking stallion with his horn to Graphite’s throat. Behind him, the target was beginning to assert control over herself, the random twitching of limbs becoming concerted attempts to rise.

He had failed. He had miscalculated and he had failed because of it. Graphite stared back into his eyes, trying to radiate the fury he felt into the very soul of his assailant. The guard had reasserted himself. Those grey eyes looked back with no emotion. Graphite opened his mouth.

Part of him longed to surrender. He could just... give up. He hadn’t considered it before, but looking at the end of the line had a tendency to force a pony to consider any alternative. He hadn’t killed her, at least not outright. They wouldn’t kill him for that. The Goddesses hadn’t even killed Discord for his transgressions.

But he knew that logic was weak. There was no way that Equestria would allow his silence, not after this. The gryphons would find him eventually. And there was no way in Tartarus that they would grant him or his sister a swift or in any way painless death.

“No choice,” he murmured. He thought he saw the tiniest flash of emotion in the white stallion’s eyes.

* * *

“He timed it perfectly, Your Highness,” Bastion reported emotionlessly. “While I was casting my spell, I couldn’t feel him channeling his own magic. The others were focused on their sectors—no doubt they thought the magic was mine, too.”

The Hay Cafe was deserted. Chairs were upturned, or smashed in the panic. The patrons had fled, leaving ten ponies and one corpse in the disheveled room. They had stamped out the fires from the magical barrage, but acrid smoke still hung in the air.

Twilight shakily flexed her wings, shrugging off Fluttershy’s attempts to wrap a blanket around her. “And you killed him.”

“He would have killed you, Your Highness. I had—” he coughed. “I had no choice.”

“He was incapacitated,” she droned. “You had him by the throat, he couldn’t have done anything.”

Bastion snorted angrily. “He was trying to kill you.” He wasn’t addressing his ruler anymore, he was addressing an uncooperative filly. “With his dying breath, he was trying to cast that spell again. So I killed him.” The stallion stood resolute. “I’m not about to take chances with your life.”

She was silent a moment. “I don’t even feel anything.” Then she stumbled, almost collapsing. Fluttershy darted back in, giving her friend support.

“You’re in shock, Twilight,” Fluttershy crooned, hooves on Twilight’s shoulders. The others just stood there. Glass crunched underhoof as Rarity and Applejack knelt next to Rainbow Dash, who was still groaning on the ground. Even Pinkie stood stock still, looking around everywhere but at the body.

“Right. Note to self,” she whispered. “Stomach grumble, eye twitch, hoof tingle? That’s an assassination attempt.”

“Twilight, Ah think Rainbow’s goin’ to need a Life Flight,” Applejack called.

Twilight pushed Fluttershy off with her wings again. “I’m fine. Go see to Rainbow.”

The pegasus recoiled, but rushed to see to their friend. Twilight ignored her and turned back towards Bastion.

“Are the rest of the guards okay?” she asked.

Bastion straightened, speaking to his Princess once again. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“We need to leave before the newsponies show up. Rainbow needs the hospital. And get that—” she nodded curtly toward the black form crumpled next to the wall “—out of here, too.”

Author's Note

Runner-up title for this chapter goes to Doom, with "Death Insert-Superfluous-Detail-Here"

EDIT: Graphite's section updated to make slightly more sense. Thank you to those who made suggestions.

Chapter 9: Several Reasonable Discussions

CHAPTER NINE: SEVERAL REASONABLE DISCUSSIONS

At first, Twilight ignored the sound of muffled voices coming from the hallway. It had grown from agitated whispering to barely restrained indoor voices. Besides, she already knew who it was—there were only two other ponies her guards would allow into the testing range.

Instead, she focused on the half-assembled guts of the machine before her. Aligning the gems inside the spell matrix called for complete concentration. It calmed her, like reading and studying when she used to be Celestia's pupil. She balanced precision tools and gems, adjusting them perfectly within the spell matrix. This was their prototype magicannon—it required much more tweaking than the production version would.

As the voices continued, she closed the access panel. "Bastion, could you help me with this?" she asked.

The stallion nodded and his telekinesis reached out to join hers. Together, they swung the cannon's snout back down the testing range. The way the magicannon's spell matrix interacted with ambient magic made maneuvering it around... tricky, at best. And, she grudgingly admitted to herself, recent events had left her more drained than usual.

She couldn't remember the attack well. It was only two days ago, and she still couldn't remember. There were flashes of clarity—hitting the floor, Rainbow Dash screaming into her ear, the black unicorn crouched behind an upturned table, looking right at her. She couldn't remember the pain, or the fear that had to have been there.

The news had spread like wildfire across Ponyville. Ponies had lined the streets as the Life Flight pegasi met them outside the cafe. Rainbow had fought them as they tried to strap her into a stretcher, at least until she had passed out. Bastion commandeered a taxi to take Twilight to Ponyville General, refusing to let her fly. They made the whole journey there under a shield spell, held up by first one guard, then another, as they used their remaining strength to protect their charge.

Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Applejack had been released, but Rainbow remained in the hospital, along with two other ponies who had been injured in the attack. Twilight had made sure to visit them both whenever she went to see Rainbow. Thankfully, the doctors seemed sure that everypony would be fine.

The fervor had only gotten worse in the days since. The library door became submerged under a sea of gifts and cards, and her friends were surrounded by crowds of well-wishers. But beneath that outpouring of sympathy, the denizens of Ponyville were more stressed than ever. Twilight couldn’t hazard a guess at the response once the news reached major cities.

She looked down at her forelegs. She hadn’t been wounded that badly—physically, at least. The bruises and cuts were beginning to heal, but her fur was still singed in places. Her muscles ached all over. She hadn’t slept since.

She owed Bastion and her guards her life, and the lives of her friends—of that she was sure—and she made sure she told the stallion. She had asked him if he wanted a medal or commendation, but Bastion just waved it off as his duty. He had insisted that she increase her security detail.

Thirty new guards were busy constructing a barracks on more land she had purchased from the Apple family. They planned to clear-cut the old orchard another twenty meters out and build a two-meter high fence around the whole lab complex. And, of course, there were other security measures she had insisted on. Some of which probably had something to do with the arrival of the two ponies in the hall.

The door banged open, echoing across the large room. Austenite walked purposefully past the safety barrier, followed closely by Applejack.

"Twilight," Austenite called flatly as he approached.

Twilight set her tool down loudly and turned around. She said nothing as her subordinates closed the distance, simply staring at the other two ponies. Austenite wore a look of fury, while Applejack seemed caught between consternation and grim determination.

"Where is the rest of the staff?" Austenite said crossly. "Why did we have to walk past guards to get into the building, Twilight?"

"The laboratory is closed down for now. Everypony is on leave at the moment."

"What!?"

"You heard me."

"Well, I-I-I couldn't have heard you correctly," Austenite laughed nervously, "because what I heard made no sense." He was incredulous, stomping his hoof for emphasis on every word. "You. Fired All. Of our staff!"

"Not fired," Twilight said, turning back to the magicannon. "On paid leave, pending completion of my investigation."

"Investigation? What are you investigating!? Snap Punch told me one of your guards ordered her to stay away from the lab! Do you think one of them had something to do with the attack?"

"Nopony can be allowed in before their security checks out."

Austenite lost the ability to form words, gesticulating and letting out little cries of dismay. Bastion bristled, but Applejack nudged the pegasus aside before he could do more than turn purple. She stayed calm, but that didn't mean she was any less confused and angry. Applejack was a wonderful worker, but sometimes Twilight found that the farm pony could be a little too mired in the details.

"Twi, Ah know that this past week has been... Has been a tough time, but don'tcha think this is a little bit much? Ah mean, aren’t you kinda buildin' the pen after the pigs have escaped? We've been working with these ponies for months!"

Twilight closed her eyes, trying not to lose her temper. "That pony had been working at the cafe for months! Time is no voucher of loyalty!" she warned the earth pony.

Austenite spoke again. "So-so what? We're starting with a clean slate!? We have seventy ponies working here!"

It was like having to reason with a foal. "As ponies come up clean, we'll invite them back to work," she said slowly. "Spike is already in Canterlot, gathering records as we speak. Really, the process won't take more than a few weeks."

"What about the timetable you gave Luna and Celestia? How are we supposed to get the magicannon ready for production if nopony is working?" Austenite whined. "And we're still earlier in the design phase for my work than I thought we'd be."

"We will be working on it. You and Applejack I know I can trust." She picked up a tool and finished securing the panel. "Rarity, too. She knows gems—she may come and help out, and maybe even start working on the suits for our little project."

Even that bit of news didn't ameliorate the stallion. "Just the three or four of us," Austenite stated.

"We started with less, Austen. Do you really need help with your own invention?"

"Do I need—" Austenite shouted.

"Twi, what did—" Applejack interjected at the same time.

"Be silent!" Twilight snapped, throwing a spanner from her magical grip. It clanged across the floor of the test range as Applejack and Austenite winced.

The alicorn stumbled from the exertion. The three other ponies started forward, but a glare from Twilight stopped them in their tracks. She wavered for a moment, controlling her breathing.

“Engineers don't make security decisions." Twilight flared her wings. "I was almost killed." She pointed at Applejack. "You were almost killed." Then she rounded on Austenite. "And by Tartarus, if you'd been there, they would have tried to kill you too. This isn't some story about the Headless Horse, this was somepony who almost had their horn to my throat. The Gryphons are after us, and after our work. They have been all along. But because we don't think that way in Equestria, we almost let them take everything."

That finally made them stop and think. Applejack tugged nervously at her hat. Austenite blinked and stared past her at the magicannon.

"We weren't being smart," Twilight said a bit more evenly. "Any unknown is a liability. We need to correct that."

Austenite sat down and crossed his forelegs in resignation. "Why is it always something?" he asked nopony in particular. "If it's not sabotage and theft, it's a crazed assassin, and if it's not that, it's the impending wrath of an entire warrior nation."

Applejack murmured her assent. "Have you spoken to Celestia and Luna yet?" she asked, trying to divert the conversation.

Twilight nodded choppily. "By letter. I wrote Celestia a message that night, and I sent a letter with Spike when he went to Canterlot. I told her that we were still going to deliver the magicannon on-schedule."

She had sent two letters with Spike. One to Celestia, reassuring her mentor that she and the other Elements were fine. And one to Luna, letting her know what she had decided to do.

She paused and bit her lip. "I also told her that we're still planning on going to the moon."

Austenite's ears perked up, and he looked up in surprise, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be angry. "What? You did? You're not worried she'll come here and stop us?"

"Celestia trusts me," she assured him. "She knows that we know what we're doing, and that we are taking all the necessary precautions.

"How can you be sure, sugarcube?" Applejack asked, trying to not to let her own excitement get the best of her.

Twilight shook her head. She had debated it herself for hours. "I can't be sure. But I'm willing to try. With everything that seems to be building around the Crystal Empire, and the weapons we're going to deliver, I'm willing to bet that Celestia will respect my judgment. Especially since the attack." She smiled weakly, the first time in a few days. "I feel a little bad about having to tell her in the middle of this mess, but I'm sure that she'll be okay with it when she realizes we're serious."

“So what does this mean for us?” Applejack asked. “Are we gonna be puttin’ more ponies on the project?”

“Maybe in a few weeks. I might leave Snap Punch and Die Cast on it while I go back to the magicannon,” Austenite said, thinking out loud. “That has to be our top priority.” He looked at Twilight, who nodded in confirmation.

"Well, I'm a little bit relieved, to tell you the truth," Austenite said. "We won't have to hide it anymore. Not that we were hiding it, I mean. Just..." He grinned, and then shrugged. "Now everything's in the open."

"It is." Twilight sobered. "And that means we're going to have to be more careful than ever. Do you understand? Both of you?"

Applejack and Austenite exchanged a glance. “Ah think so,” Applejack said as she nodded slowly. “Tarnation, Twilight. Ah hope you know what you’re doin’.”

* * *

"Celly."

No response.

"Sister, please."

Luna resisted the urge to groan. She couldn't remember the last time her sister had been at a loss for words. It had to have been before her banishment. Probably during a conversation much like this one. She could almost feel heat radiating from Celestia's mane, burning brighter as her anger mingled with the enchantment of her peytral.

She tried again. "Sister, it was part of the agreement. For Princess Twilight to agree to produce magical weapons, we needed to give her open skies to pursue her other projects"

Celestia only stared back at her. Perhaps, Luna reflected, it wasn't the best time to force the issue. Tartarus knows there's a lot on Celly's plate right now, especially after Ponyville. But Twilight had been insistent on letting Celestia know. By letter, of course. And because of the snowballing catastrophe the Gryphon Hegemony seemed insistent on causing, Celestia couldn't just leave the capital to yell at her student.

Which, of course, left Luna as the only pony within reach that she could blame.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Luna asked flatly.

"Do you really want to do this now?" the Sun Princess finally said. "Right now, on the eve of war? You want to weaken us in the eyes of our ponies right when they need us the most? This is a diarchy," she snapped at her sister. "That doesn't give you the right to unilaterally decide what's best for us. You’ve broken your word to me."

“I have done no such thing.” Luna stated angrily. “It’s your own protégé who you feel threatened by. I told her nothing, but you seem to think that if she undertakes this journey to the moon, she’ll discover the truth.”

“And you allowed—neigh, encouraged her to do so!” Celestia said, matching her sister’s rising tone. “How could that be anything but complicity? Twilight would have listened to me and dropped the whole matter, but you went behind my back and planted the seed in their minds!”

Luna snorted. “Do you seriously believe those two would give up their dream so easily? Austenite only wanted to try harder since you forbade it. And Twilight has been enthralled by the heavens since she was a filly!”

Celestia’s voice turned deathly cold. “Don’t you talk to me about my student like you know anything about her!”

“She’s not your student anymore! It was our choice to ascend her—did you expect her to continue to follow meekly behind you? You picked Twilight for her leadership and judgment, and that’s what she’s doing. We can’t just refuse her, not after this. The whole kingdom will be rallying behind her when news of the attack spreads. To disgrace her is to court catastrophe!”

“To let her continue is to court catastrophe!” Celestia hissed, her eyes wide with frenzy. She ground her hoof into the cobblestone. “Because of your meddling, she could bring everything crashing down around us!”

“I’m giving us a way out!” Luna grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “I gave you my confidence in this, but sooner or later somepony will figure it out and see through our lie.”

"I thought we had already settled this. It is not—" Celestia began.

"It is a lie, Celly!" Luna cut off her big sister. "That's all it is!"

"Luna, you don't understand what you're saying."

"You don't control the sun, and I don't control the moon," Luna shouted. "It's a lie—a lie that you made up and you told all your little ponies." She took her breath in heaving gasps. "And you let them worship us for it," she said with derision. "They call us goddesses! They call us goddesses because at some point, you decided that you couldn't rule as a... as a normal fucking alicorn!"

The sudden silence left her voice ringing in her ears. Her use of contemporary language aside, Luna still surprised herself with the savagery of her diatribe. She hadn’t meant to yell, but three years of going along with the falsehood had taken their toll. Celestia had stopped listening to reason, so yelling was all that was left.

Calling it a lie did not do it justice. It was a fabrication, a fiction Celestia had crafted over a thousand years. Luna had been so overwhelmed at her return, it had just fallen in among all the things she had to catch up on after a thousand years. And it was all so easy to go along with—the awe and fervor were intoxicating, stirring up the dregs of Nightmare emotion in the corners of her mind. Luna discovered that the hunger for more was still there, even after all the torment she had endured by surrendering herself to Nightmare. It was like some base desire, some primal urge. That had terrified her. She could descend again—it would be so easy, like a pony taking that first bit of opium after years of being clean.

Luna was never taken with the fabrication, so Celestia had sworn her to secrecy. For three years she had kept that secret, pinned down by the will of her sister and her own fear of losing her again. But now, she could force the issue. If Twilight journeyed to the moon, she would discover the massive illusion spell they maintained. They were ancient beings, and powerful ones, too. Their mastery of that spell was extreme, enough to encircle the globe. But it was still an infinitesimal fraction of the power needed to control a sun.

Once through that illusion, even a foal could do the math to prove their control was a lie. At those distances, Twilight would probably even discover the field itself. She would know exactly what was going on. One way or the other, they would be free of the lie. Either they would finally come clean, or Twilight and Austenite would expose them.

Luna realized that Celestia was shaking, her eyes flirting around, not focusing on anything. Luna hesitantly reached out and laid a wing over her, but Celestia hardly noticed. It must have been the first time she's heard it out loud in so long. Who knows how many hundreds of years she's been telling ponies that. Maybe even telling herself that. And maybe she even came to believe, just a bit, that we were goddesses.

They stood there like that for a long time, with Luna simply cradling her big sister. Celestia drew ragged breaths, still shaking almost uncontrollably.

When Celestia finally spoke, her fury was gone, replaced by bitterness. "How can we let this happen?" she asked. "Think of what it would mean for my little ponies."

Luna shook her gently. "I am thinking of them, sister. This gives us a chance to explain it on our own, instead of having to face everypony if Twilight figures out the truth."

"We can't, Luna. We can't. How would you explain it? How could they feel anything but betrayed if we tell them? They'll think their whole history is a lie."

"Our ponies are getting smarter. What were you going to have us do when their technology threatened to surpass our magic?"

"I don't know."

"Send Equestria back to windigo times?"

"I don't know!" Celestia cried.

Luna stepped back. "Our whole civilization is ready for a great deal of change. Technology. Electricity. Industry. The Spell Matrix and space. Pony society is going to change a great deal in the near future,” she said gravely. “Ponies will expect more, too. Progress, a say in the government...”

“What room is there for us in a world like that, sister?” Celestia said fearfully. “What happens when they don’t think they need us anymore?”

“We have ruled for thousands of years, sister,” Luna reassured her. “Sure, we will have to adapt, but ponies will always need us. We have always ruled fairly. They do love us, Celestia, and they will follow us even if they don’t think we are goddesses.” She looked at her sister imploringly. “You can’t be afraid of change. You dislike this lie as much as I do. Now is our chance to rectify it.”

* * *

Luna smiled kindly at her as Celestia stood mute, her words finally heard. Celestia seemed to stand shorter. Her ethereal mane pooled on the floor as her head hung low. She felt it again, for the first time in perhaps a hundred years. The shame, knowing that their rule rested on a falsehood. That she had lied to her little ponies and they adored her for it. That she had stifled Twilight’s dream, because she and her invention would unwittingly ensure her mentor’s downfall.

She had always had an explanation. She had created the legend of the Mare in the Moon, when in reality, Luna had been petrified just as Discord had. She had been frozen by another group of six ponies wielding the Elements of Harmony. But they had been less than fortunate, and Celestia’s had been the only account left of that terrible tragedy.

Equestria had been split asunder by the Civil War. Ponies were on the verge of starvation, and the Zebras and the Gryphons were eyeing her lands like vultures circling a dying rat. She’d had to rekindle their hope and forge Equestria anew. And with the weight of a goddess, she had done it. The Gryphons and the Zebras had been turned back. She destroyed all of Equestria’s knowledge of war, and protected them with the power of her divinity—the might of the sun itself.

With persistence, the story became legend, and her word became fact. As the generations went on, her ponies began to worship her. Celestia thought that it was good—their belief in her only served to make them stronger. It ensured the execution of her orders, and the proper management of the whole nation. And it had worked for a thousand years, until Luna’s return.

Luna’s persistence over the past few months had infuriated her. Luna had never had the weight of the nation on her shoulders alone. She shadowed Celestia in her rule, offering advice capriciously, careless of the balance she strived to achieve. Celestia had been trying to prevent war, and Luna was trying to cut off her wings.

She couldn’t go back now, not after she had admitted it to her sister. She hadn’t said so out loud, but there was no denying the truth in Luna’s words. She couldn’t keep up with her little ponies. There was a point where even thousands of years’ worth of knowledge would fall behind young inspiration and ingenuity. Twilight was infinitely more quick-witted than she—Celestia hadn’t created new magic in ages, whereas a young mare barely into her adult life had made a discovery that would change the face of the world in a decade or so.

“We...” Her voice wavered, and she gulped. “We will have to make preparations. We will have to think of what to say.” She finally looked back up at Luna.

She simply nodded, satisfied with her answer. “You know this is good, Celestia. I am glad we will finally put an end to this.”

Luna turned and walked from the room. Celestia stood and watched her go.

* * *

Kaspar fumed as he read the report before him. It described with clinical detachment the events of the incident—the casualties, the damages, his analysts' frantic covering of backsides. It only made him angry at himself. The failure didn't matter to him—it was really because he had broken one of his rules. One claw on the pony’s shoulder hadn’t been enough. He’d had to resort to threatening family, and did not always a good spy make. He should never have contacted the pony in the first place.

He could tell himself that it had been a different time—war hadn't been on the horizon, his presence in Equestria meant that he could keep a tighter leash on his agents. And of course, some of it was that jumpy little unicorn's own fault. Kaspar would've only had to kill him if he failed—that should have made him try all the more for success.

Now he was down one agent. He would have to recall the unicorn's handler, too, lest the Equestrians somehow pick up the connection. Add to that the fact that Princess had closed up her lab tighter than a dragon's jaw...

He rubbed his temples. “So what does Twilight Sparkle want?” he spoke. “A newly-minted Princess, and a growing force in the Kingdom. Survivor of a dastardly attack on her person,” he added after a moment. “What ambition must she have?”

Eckhart realized he was meant to answer, and took a moment to think. That reminded Kaspar why he liked Eckhart so much—there were even some among the Blackwings who didn't take enough time to think. It was certainly why he had trusted more resources to the gryphon, and even underlings to work in his expanding workshop. They couldn’t manufacture the weapons with a one-gryphon operation.

“I’m not sure, sir. I’m no expert in Equestrian politics.”

“If you had to guess...?”

“I wouldn’t think she wants to rule, Sir. Why continue to live in a rural community after she, er, changed? If she wanted a part in their government, would she not move to their capital?”

“Hmm. So why doesn’t she want to rule?”

Eckhart’s face twitched in surprise. “I’m not su—” He caught Kaspar’s look. “Ahem.” The zeichner thought for a while. “Perhaps she simply wants to go about her work?”

“Well,” Kaspar said, smiling. “That is a hypothesis we’ll have to test at some point, won’t we? But don’t concern yourself too much with events abroad. I need your mind here.” He sighed and leaned back, antique chair creaking under his muscled weight. “Your work may very well be the most important going on in the entire Capital Valley. If we allow the ponies’ technology edge to increase any more, there will be nothing to stop the Crystal Empire from sweeping up the whole Hegemony.”

Author's Note

Well. It seems my editor is all kinds of popular. Not even offering sexual favors could move my chapter to the top of his list in time for release on Friday.

Additionally, Graphite's section in chapter 8 has been updated. Nothing plot-wise changes, but I think the section is better as a whole.

Chapter 10: Logistics

CHAPTER TEN: LOGISTICS

Apple Bloom squinted to keep the morning sun out of her eyes and tried not to kick up dust as she trudged across the dry laboratory grounds. With the onset of the midsummer drought, Applejack had ordered the vegetation on the laboratory grounds cleared another fifty meters back as a firebreak. The action would spare the rest of Sweet Apple Acres if there was an accident, but the loosened dirt had dried, and had the effect of incessantly coating every exposed surface with a fine layer of dust.

“So y’all really are buildin’ a flyin’ machine,” Apple Bloom said, eyeing the building as they walked. “Ah thought Spike was lyin’.”

“Well,” Applejack cleared her throat, “calling it a ‘flyin’ machine’ is a bit of an over-simplification.”

Austenite nodded. “Technically, if it’s going to go to space, it isn’t going to be flying anymore. That’s why we’re calling it a Magi-Technological Super-Atmospheric Expeditionary Vessel. M.T.S.A.E.V. for short.”

Apple Bloom tried the acronym, “M.T.S.A.E.V.” She balked.

“Ah think you’re really gonna like this, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said as they walked. “Ah have a hard time believin’ what we’ve done in just a couple’a weeks. Granted, with how often Twi’s been pullin’ me off to go work on the—” She broke off as she glanced at Apple Bloom “—ahem. Our other projects...”

Austenite shrugged. “You haven’t really missed much—all we’ve really got finished so far is the frame. None of the interesting bits yet. Not that your sister would know,” he said to Apple Bloom with a sly smile. “A computer and a block of aluminum probably look the same to that farmer.”

Applejack tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin as she shoved him lightly with her shoulder, and he trotted a little ahead, chuckling to himself. “Don’t you listen to him for a second, A.B.—Austen’s all hat and no cattle. Why, Ah bet there’s more of my hoof in the design than there is of his.”

The engineer snorted. “Only if you mean your dirty hoofprints on my drawings.”

“Ah...” Applejack fumed at not being able to think of a comeback, and Austenite laughed again.

Apple Bloom hid a frown from her sister. Applejack was getting more and more tied up at the lab, and even when she could help them on the orchard, she still talked about working there. No details about what Twilight and all those workers were doing on their land—at least, nothing Apple Bloom could understand—but her sister couldn’t hide how much she enjoyed the work. And perhaps how much she enjoyed working with one pony in particular.

Despite herself, she felt her frown falter. Apple Bloom took her sisterly duties very seriously, and that included teasing Applejack about the crush she was sure her sister had on that pegasus, Austenite. A.J. denied it, of course, but her sister had been a terrible liar even before she became nationally recognized for the lack of that very quality.

They were met by another pony outside the building, flanked by two of Twilight’s guards. It was a wash whether the iceberg-colored unicorn was sweating more from the sun or from the attention of her boss.

“Hey, Austen. Hey, Applejack.”

“Mornin’, Cast. Is Snap Punch here too?”

Die Cast laughed. “Well, kinda. Despite her best efforts, she got here before me, and Twilight stole her to go work on that gimbaling problem she’s been having with the magi—”

“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!” Austenite shouted, making everypony else jump. “What?” he said, and jerked his head toward Apple Bloom.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Die Cast turned to the younger sister. “Hello...?”

“Apple Bloom,” she said matter-of-factly, sticking out her hoof. Die Cast looked at it dumbly for a moment, before grinning sheepishly and reaching out to return the shake. “Pleased to meet’cha.” She grasped Die Cast’s hoof in a professional shake.

“Nice to meet you, too, Apple Bloom.” She laughed. “It’s a real pleasure to work with your sister, but I had no idea that you were actually the businesspony of the family!”

“Har, har,” Applejack deadpanned as she waved aside the two guards. If there was any benefit to being the Element of Honesty, it was that the guards didn’t huff when she brought her little sister with her to work. She and Die Cast heaved against one of the large doors, wheeling it aside to enter the building.

They filed into the thick, still air of the hangar. Die Cast and Applejack stood with Apple Bloom as Austenite walked over to the electrical box. She blinked and tried to see anything in the dark. From the light that filtered in behind them, she could make out piles of materials stacked all around the hangar... all arrayed around a strange shape in the center. Its outline was broken up by scaffolding, with the light glinting off of all sorts of edges and curves.

Austenite looked back over his shoulder with a grin. “Are you ready?”

Apple Bloom nodded enthusiastically.

With a flick of his hoof, he engaged the lever. The shop lights came on with a harsh buzz and threw the hangar into bright illumination, revealing the oddly-shaped craft.

It reminded Apple Bloom of... Actually, it didn’t remind her of anything, because she had never seen anything like the odd, sleek object in front of her. The whole craft was done up in metal panels, with hundreds of rivets studding the edges of the sheets. There was the bulbous nose, with round windows spangled like spider eyes around it. A second, larger span behind the cockpit would house the power systems, and within stubby, thick fins running all along either side of the craft, the spell matrices would sit, to hoist it through the air, and beyond.

“Five point three five meters long, one point eight two meters wide,” Austenite rattled off. “She’ll mass five thousand, six-hundred, eighty-two kilograms when she’s finished. Directional control is achieved by articulating the secondary gems in the matrix. Power comes from a lattice of magically-charged gemstones. The prototype should have an endurance of twenty minutes, but we’re hoping to be able to push that to two hours.”

The older ponies grinned as Apple Bloom stood there with mouth agape. She walked towards it as if in a trance, and reached up and touched it with her hoof, looking at her distorted reflection in the polished metal. Applejack walked up next to her and tousled her hair. Apple Bloom didn’t notice, still enthralled by the facets of the machine.

“Are you really goin’ to ride in that?” she asked incredulously.

Applejack chuckled. “Maybe, Apple Bloom. Ah’m not really one for gettin’ my hooves off the ground.”

Of course, despite Austenite’s fanfare, the prototype was far from complete. Already Apple Bloom noticed pits and dents in the metal, and places where oil was leaking out between the sheets and pooling on the floor. Some of the glass was missing from the windows, their frames covered with brown paper and tape. Between the gaps, she could see a tangle of wires and hoses.

“You don’t think it’s safe?”

“Oh no, of course it’s safe. Ah’d trust my life to mine and Austen’s work. Ah just wouldn’t trust my lunch to it.” She grinned.

“Then can Ah ride in it?” Apple Bloom rocked up on her tippy-hooves. “When you’re finished, and all?”

Austenite tapped his chin. “Well, I think you’d have a hard time reaching the controls. Maybe we could train you to sit on Spike’s shoulders and fly it like that!”

“Maybe we should wait to think about that after we’ve at least had a successful test flight,” Die Cast cautioned.

“Ah!” Austenite hit himself on the forehead. “I should have thought of that earlier! It would have been so much easier if we had designed the prototype to be piloted by a foal! It could have been smaller, lighter...”

Applejack pulled Apple Bloom against her and glared at Austenite.

“Filly tested, mother approved,” Die Cast deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “I love it.”

“Movin’ on past that...” Applejack said, steering Apple Bloom aside. She turned and faced her little sister. Apple Bloom seemed to shake off her wonder, settling her features into a carefully neutral look. Seeing that look on a face as young as her sister’s surprised Applejack. If she did curse, she would have cursed inwardly. She’d thought that Apple Bloom’s humor earlier meant that she wasn’t angry anymore.

She sighed. “Ah know you’re upset, Apple Bloom. That’s why Ah brought you here to see this. Ah can’t show you what else there is, but you need to trust me on this. Ah need you to understand that what we’re workin’ on here is really important to everypony,” she said earnestly.

Apple Bloom nodded jerkily.

“And you understand why I need to keep workin’ on it?”

“Every day?” A melancholy note crept into Apple Bloom’s voice.

“Every day,” Applejack confirmed

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes, sugarcube,” she said solemnly.

Apple Bloom shook her foreleg against the ground impatiently. “But we need you, A.J. Now more than ever. How can I manage Sweet Apple Acres without you?”

“We’re not goin’ to go under. Not with the money Ah’m makin’ here,” Applejack said firmly. “And Ah know you’ll do a darn good job at runnin’ the farm.”

“All by myself,” Apple Bloom said flatly.

“Hey!” Applejack nudged her shoulder with forced humor and a weak smile. “Don’t you count your Granny Smith out! She’s still got more power than a dynamo left in her. Between the two of you—”

“But she can’t pull the plow,” Apple Bloom countered. “The rest of the family is all busy with their own farms—Ah have nopony else who I can turn to!”

Applejack threw a hoof up in exasperation. “So go try to change Big Mac’s mind!”

“You go try!” Apple Bloom snapped petulantly. Several ponies working around them stopped and looked over at the two. Both of them blushed. “Sorry,” she said quietly, and cleared her throat. “But he’ll listen to you!”

“You don’t think Ah’ve already tried?” Applejack lamented. “He’s actin’ too bone-headed right now to reason with. Besides...” She struggled for what to say, but ended up tossing a hoof up uselessly.

The two sisters were silent, each looking at the same patch of floor as the sounds of the hangar continued around them.

“We should talk to Twilight,” Apple Bloom suggested. “Ask her what to do.”

* * *

“Mister Le Grand?”

Gustave winced at the pony’s drawling accent. “Yes?” He gave the pony a tolerating little smile.

She didn’t see it—she was ensconced in the clipboard that floated before her eyes. “I.D. number... oh-one-four-oh-five...” she muttered more to herself than to him. “The waiting room is right up ahead. We’ll do our best to get you processed and on your way as soon as we can.” She had distilled her script to a chant.

He felt a tug on his trunk—another unicorn was trying to take it from his grasp.

“No,” he said as he tugged back. “No, this is mine. Your notice said I could bring this.”

“You’ll get it back soon.” The unicorn said sweetly as she finally ripped the handle from his claws. “Don’t worry.”

He worried. That case was all he had now. His publisher had said she’d try to ship everything from his flat, but for now, that trunk held all of his worldly possessions.

“Mister Le Grand—” ‘Le Grayund’, he heard “—this way.”

He glanced behind him. The one that had picked up his trunk was gone—disappeared down some side corridor, past a set of stoic guards. When he looked back at the first mare, she was already halfway down the corridor. “Very well.” Gustave said forlornly, and started down the hall after her. He flapped his wings once, and caught up to her in a short little leap.

Every surface of the corridor was covered in cheap, beige tiles. There were perhaps twice as many lights as were needed, bare light bulbs with the wiring just stapled into the ceiling. The smell of disinfectant hung around them. It was like somegryphon had taken his kitchen at the Royal Hotel and twisted it into some pallid vision, some caricature that mocked him with every familiar click of his claws on tile. The pony walked purposefully ahead, oblivious to his misery, or perhaps just worn out by the emotions of the gryphons she had escorted before him.

“Madame?” he called.

“Right this way, sir. Your deportation officer will see you shortly.”

The unicorn positioned herself to block off the rest of the hallway as she held open a door for him. The sound of muted conversation reached him as he peeked inside.

“Erm, madame, where is my baggage going? And is there any news on my permit? I filed the permit to stay...” He held out the paper he had been given.

The pony glanced at it dispassionately. “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to take that up with your deportation officer.” She swung the door a little bit further open, looking at him expectantly.

Slowly, his claw closed back on the paper. The unicorn maintained eye contact as he padded into the room.

It was a rather large room, and tall, too—tall enough to even fly around in. Gustave wondered what it had been used for previously. Thin, somewhat ornate windows ruled out ‘warehouse,’ but… He shrugged. Even his years-long stay in Canterlot hadn’t taught him much about Equestrian architecture.

The floor was littered with what had once been neat rows of chairs, now drawn up into little groups. The ponies had seen fit to decorate the waiting room with plants and small tables stacked with whatever books they thought that gryphons would enjoy. He even saw a few copies of his book lying around.

He snorted. What use a cookbook would be in this place, he didn’t know.

There were perhaps fifty gryphons scattered about—still well below capacity for the big hall. A few chatted with their neighbors in low tones, but they had been gathered from all across Equestria—even acquaintances were few and far between. Most just sat quietly. Every so often, one of five doors on the other side of the room would open, and a pony would step out and butcher a name. One gryphon or another would stand and cross, and vanish behind the door. A new gryphon would be deposited through the same door he had come from, and so on and so forth.

Clutching nothing but his papers, he looked around the empty chairs. He wound his way towards the ones near the windows, eventually settling in a seat across from a younger, particularly sullen-looking femelle. With arms crossed and feet propped up on one of the little tables, she stared out one of the windows. Books littered the floor around her seat. At the sound of his chair scraping, she glanced his way, then quickly returned her gaze outside.

“Good afternoon, madame. My name is Gustave.”

She looked back at him.

“Le Grand,” he supplied after a moment. He reached out to grasp her claw.

“Le Grand?” Her beak curled down. It was clear she didn’t like the taste of the word in her mouth. “Great. Ein nordländer.” Her arms remained firmly crossed.

Gustave’s claw retreated into his lap. “And your name, madame?”

“Gilda.”

When it was clear there was no clan name forthcoming, he settled back, adopting the same pose as her. “So what brought you to Equestria, Gilda?”

“I thought the ponies were the ones doing the interrogating,” she snorted.

On a whim, he changed his response from ‘oui.’ “Yes, of course. My apologies. I was simply trying to make conversation.” He glanced at each of the doors in turn. “Who knows how long we have to wait in this place...”

“Does it look like I’m looking for conversation?” she bristled. “If I was looking for conversation, I could have sat next to any one of those bozos.” Then her shoulders sagged as she sighed. “Sorry. I’m just generally ticked-off—nothing you did. ‘Ve been here for—” she glanced out the window again “—hell, I don’t know. Three hours? Four? Fuckin’ ponies.”

He looked at her unsurely. “Have you seen anyone who looks like they’re in charge? I want to find out more about my permit. A permit to stay. I applied…” he trailed off.

There was a sympathetic twinge to her look. “Good luck with that. I tried screaming at them, cursing at them… I even tried talking to ‘em. Nothing doing. All of ‘em just parrot that line about ‘seeing my deposition officer’ or some shit.”

“Deportation,” he corrected absent-mindedly.

“Sure, whatever.” She nodded at the paper he was slowly kneading. “So what golden nest are they kicking you off of?”

“I was Chef de Cuisine at the Royal Hotel. I wrote a cookbook. The Compendium of Gryphon Delicacies. Have you heard of it?”

She regarded him flatly. “Does it look like I know how to read?”

He worked his beak. “Fair enough.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “But they just kicked you out on your ass? Just like that?”

Gustave clicked his beak mirthlessly. “Surely you have felt the effect of the current... atmosphere as much as I have, and it didn’t help that their princess was attacked in a restaurant. The ponies at the Royal came to me. They said I was ‘making the guests uncomfortable.’” He ruffled his wings. “And then I was out.”

She snorted again. “Sheesh. I thought they were just picking up vagrants. Explains why they nabbed me, but you’ve got, like, a real job! Well... had. The hell are they doing, kicking out every gryphon in the country?

“I fear that may indeed be the case.”

“Shit...” she said reverently.

“And you? How did you chance here?”

She shrugged. “Eh, it wasn’t like they were waiting on me claw-and-foot in the first place. When those goons came for me, I thought they were just going to put me in a cell again. Then I end up in this fuckin’ place...” She picked up the last scrap of ‘reading material’ and threw it against the wall. Heads turned toward them, glancing idly at what made the noise. Gilda glared at any who didn’t immediately look back their own way.

“Cunts.”

Gustave felt he was getting a feel for her eloquence.

“I hate the Hegemony,” she said dully. “Full of masochistic bastards going on who think being on-time is better than sex. There was hardly anything there for me when I came to Equestria, and there sure as hell isn’t anything left now. My family’s all dead, except for some piss-poor nestbrüden scraping by somewhere west of Capital Valley. I worked my ass off in Equestria, and now they think that fair payment is strapping a fucking pillow on their hoof before they kick me out on my ass? As far as I’m concerned, they can both go choke.”

Gustave cringed at the venom in her voice. “With all its faults, the Hegemony is still my birth nation,” he said softly. “And even if they are not known for their hospitality, they are not the ones who have just ejected me from my home.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya,” Gilda muttered. “So... what, are you going to join up when you get back?”

“Join up?”

“Join the army, I mean.”

He chuckled and looked around the room. “Somehow, I don’t think that the ponies are going to like any answer to that question.”

“Well... I’m the one asking, not them,” she said.

Gustave raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t just some idle conversation—she really wanted to know.

“Well...” He pursed his beak. “I don’t think you’ll see me hefting wingblades on the front lines—” he wondered if he could even fly with those, let alone fight with them on “—but perhaps I will do something.” He looked over the bulging muscles at her wingroots. “What about you? I imagine you could take on a couple soldiers on your own.”

She laughed. It was a harsh sound. “I’ve fought enough guards. Gotten into enough scrapes in this bar or that. But no. Fuck that. I’ll see if I can find work somewhere else. Who knows? Maybe some fat old bastard wants some eye candy for a private guard. Or maybe I can jump the whole fight—just head to zebra territory or something.”

“Well, I hope you develop a taste for salt ,” he said dryly. “I could say that their cuisine is unrefined, but I wouldn’t want to put the word ‘cuisine’ anywhere near a sentence about zebra food.”

“I know, I’ve been before. They have—”

“—Graytale?”

Gilda’s head twisted around.

“Gilda Graytale?” a pony drawled again.

“Yo!” Gilda called, and made to stand. “That’s me,” she explained to Gustave.

“I gathered,” he said.

“Gilda Greytale!” the pony called again.

She clenched her talons. “Yea—hey asshole! Sit tight for a sec, won’t you?”

“You should try not to anger them so much,” Gustave advised.

“C’mon, what are they gonna do? Keep me here?” She held out a claw. “Nice to meet you, Gustave le Grand. You’re half-decent—for a northerner, I mean.”

He gripped it. “Perhaps I will see you again.”

“Sure, if you’re ever cooking a meal in prison.”

Pony guards were now approaching to make doubly-sure that she had heard them. She shouldered her way past them towards the now-irate deportation officer.

Gustave smiled as he watched her go, until he remembered where he was.

* * *

Twilight fumed as she read the intelligence report the so-called analysts of the Royal Guard had compiled on the attack. Besides contradicting itself several times, it didn’t really tell Twilight anything she didn’t already know. They still had no idea who the unicorn was—not even a real name. The fact that he had escaped from Canterlot’s scrupulous records jumped out at Twilight, though. No mention of him, nor a possible family line. That bore thinking on.

But there seemed to be little doubt as to who he was working for. There was no hard evidence, but that didn’t stop the spooks from pointing a hoof decidedly at the gryphons.

Somepony rapped lightly on the doorframe of Twilight’s office. “Howdy, Twilight,” Applejack said.

Twilight glanced up. Applejack was standing in the doorway, prevented from entering by Bastion. Her bodyguard shot her an inquiring look.

“It’s okay, Bastion.”

The stallion acquiesced, and allowed her into the office.

“Are you free for a moment?”

Twilight looked back down at the mountain of papers on her desk. She shrugged.

“Well, ‘free’ is a relative term, but sure. What can I do for you, A.J.?”

“Well...” She stepped further into the office... followed by Apple Bloom.

“Apple Bloom!” Twilight smiled warmly, and got up to walk around her desk. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Apple Bloom must have grown by a hoof since the last time Twilight had seen her—or since the last time she’d paid attention, anyway. Apple Bloom had replaced her bow, opting to wear a red neckerchief, like the one her sister sometimes sported.

“Did Applejack show you the M.S.T.E.A.V.?” she asked excitedly. Twilight envied the freedom that Austen had to work on their project—she was up to her horn in work getting the magicannon to production.

“M.T.S.A.E.V.,” Applejack corrected.

“Ugh. Right.” Twilight grimaced. “You know, I really should remember not to let Austen name things. Regardless,” she said, turning to Apple Bloom with a smile, “what did you think?”

Apple Bloom looked at the floor. “It was... great.”

Twilight noticed the bleak expression both Apple sisters wore.

“Is everything alright?” she asked with concern.

“Yes and no.” Applejack said, but didn’t elaborate.

Twilight looked between the two. “Well, is somepony going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Applejack opened her mouth to speak—

“Big Mac is enlisting,” Apple Bloom stated, and looked expectantly at her sister, who nodded.

Twilight raised an eyebrow questioningly at her friend. “Enlisted? In the Guard? Why would he enlist?”

Applejack sighed. “He’s signin’ up for the new Regulars, not the Guard, but it’s true. He’s leavin’ in a week to go out to Fort Redhoof, outside Trottin’ham.”

“And with him gone,” Apple Bloom added, “and Applejack workin’ here...” she shrugged. “That leaves me with most of the work on Sweet Apple Acres. Ah know Granny Smith does her best, but…”

“I...” Twilight gulped. “But... with the money from the land we bought, and Applejack’s salary... you’re worried you’re going to lose the farm?”

“No, we won’t. Ah already said as much to Apple Bloom,” Applejack said.

“But don’t you see that’s not the problem?” Apple Bloom imploringly. “How can I keep up production without both of the best workers in the Apple family? Ah need Applejack to help me.”

Twilight looked up at Applejack, who closed her eyes wearily. She turned back to the filly. “Apple Bloom,” she said as kindly as possible, “I can’t do that. Your sister is working on some... some very important work. For the princesses. I really, really need her help here.

“And food production isn’t important?” Apple Bloom asked pointedly. “Don’t think Ah don’t know what’s goin’ on in the world! Ah’ve been helpin’ Big Mac with the books for three months now, and we’ve had ponies come by from Canterlot askin’ about proj...e...projections! They want to see how much food we can make.”

Twilight was taken aback. She knew that Apple Bloom had been in school for longer than the other Apples, but she had no idea that the filly was that astute. “You’ve been doing the finances for Sweet Apple Acres?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “Well, Big Mac can’t really do math too well, and Cheerilee’s been havin’ us play with fake bits in class to learn how money works. Ah think Ah’ve got the hang of it.”

“Ah think she’s doin’ a darn good job,” Applejack interjected.

“And that means Ah know what’s gonna happen if Big Mac leaves! There’s ponies countin’ on our apples!” She stomped her hoof.

“But ponies are also counting on what we’re doing here,” Twilight pointed out to the filly.

Apple Bloom considered it silently for a moment. “Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

Twilight pursed her lips. “Have you, um... have you considered going to the Carrots for help?”

Applejack shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

Apple Bloom closed her eyes for a moment. “Ah’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Guess that answers that question,” she muttered. “Apple Bloom, don’t get me wrong—I think it’s admirable that you care so much about helping other ponies, but there’s nothing I can do to help you at the moment.” She shrugged helplessly. “Maybe in a couple weeks...?” she trailed off.

“It’s okay, Twilight,” Apple Bloom reassured her. “Ah’m sure we’ll think of somethin’.”

“Alright then,” Applejack said, eager to escape the awkward conversation. “Thank you kindly for your time, Twi.

Twilight frowned. “Are you sure it’s okay, Apple Bloom?”

“It’s fine. Ah knew it was a long shot,” she said as she got up and opened the door.

The Apple sisters made to leave, but Twilight’s foreleg shot out between them, gripping the door. At the crunch of wood, Bastion glanced over his shoulder. “Actually, can we talk for another moment, Applejack?”

Applejack hesitated, and Apple Bloom looked back at her. She nudged her younger sister forward. “Go on, A.B. Wait with Bastion for a minute.”

Apple Bloom nodded, and continued out of the office. Twilight closed the door and turned around. Applejack stayed standing.

“Ah’m sorry, Twilight. Ah should’ve done a better job explaining it to her myself.”

“It’s fine, Applejack. Just... why now? Big Mac enlisting, Apple Bloom acting like she was fired from a cannon?”

“You can’t guess?” Applejack asked glumly.

Twilight bit her lip. “It’s because of the attack, isn’t it?”

Applejack nodded, and sat down again. “You saw them when we were at Ponyville General. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were holdin’ onto each other so tight you couldn’t fit a hair between them, and Big Mac looked like he wanted to take apart the building with his bare hooves.” She swept her stetson from her head and crushed it in her hooves. “He showed me his papers last week.”

Twilight laid a wing over her friend. “Did you try talking to him? Explaining things?”

Applejack snorted. “Explain what? That his sister wasn’t personally attacked? That the danger is hundreds of kilometers away? Half the ponies in town are already lookin’ at any stranger like she’s a gryphon agent!”

“I... Do you want me to try talking to him?” Twilight asked.

“No, Ah don’t imagine that’d do much good. The stallion’s pretty stubborn once he gets an idea in his head.”

“A trait shared by all of the Apples, it seems,” Twilight mused. Applejack grunted, but gave a little smile.

“You know everything I said earlier is true. I really do need you, Applejack.”

“Ah know, sugarcube. Ah like it here, and Ah’d love to stay. But Apple Bloom raised a fair point, too. Equestria’s gotta have food.” She shrugged. “Ah guess the other farms are just gonna have to take up the slack.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Goddesses damn it. Now I’ve got to worry about the both of them.”

“We’ll figure something out, Applejack,” Twilight reassured her. “Just give me a while to think.”

“Ah know we will, sugarcube. Ah’m just worried about what Apple Bloom will do in the meantime. She’s got the smarts to run the farm, but sometimes she lets her heart rule her head.”

Twilight shook her friend warmly. “Don’t worry. It’s not like she’s on her own—you and Granny Smith will still be there for her. And Big Mac is going to be fine, too. The regular tours are only for eight months. He’ll be back before you know it.”

Applejack nodded, mostly to herself. “Ah know.” She glanced over at her friend. “Thanks, Twi,” she said after a minute.

“Anytime, Applejack.”

* * *

Austenite helped Applejack escort her sister back out. The pegasus kept shooting them puzzled looks.

“Didn’t you like the M.T.S.A.E.V.?” he asked worriedly.

“Oh, no. Erm...” Apple Bloom fumbled. “Of course Ah did, Mr. Austenite. It was really excitin’!”

“Oh.” he wrinkled his snout. “Okay. Good, then!”

“So when is your... M.T...M—”

“M.T.S.A.E.V.—” Austenite supplied.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Your M-whatever—going to be ready?”

“Well, we project that the M.T.S.A.E.V. will be ready for testing by the end of the month.”

“You know, that’s really hard to say,” Apple Bloom told him.

“Well, that’s what it is! It’s designed to sail above the air and out into space!”

Apple Bloom furrowed her brow. “So, like a... space... ship?”

Both of the adults froze and looked at each other. Austenite cleared his throat self-consciously.

Applejack looked surprised. “That’s—”

“Actually a lot better.” Austenite finished.

Apple Bloom left the two of them standing there as she walked toward the exit.

* * *

Kaspar was reminded of his first interview with the young Eckhart. At that meeting, the cub had been ignorant of his position. This time, though, the he actually knew why he should be fearful. Both for Kaspar’s reputation, and for his own transgression.

“So you understand that your reports indicated we were much closer to completion than you tell me now?”

Eckhart nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir. I did not make enough of a distinction between discovery and implementation.” He explained without prompting. “We have succeeded in copying the Equestrian documents, and we have performed several successful tests. In that respect, the Blitzkanone is ready. I fear, though, that in its current state, we will not harness its maximum effectiveness on the battlefield.”

Kaspar kept his features immobile. “How much more time do you need for refinement?”

Eckhart leaned forward and gingerly placed a paper on the desk. “Thirty-two days. That accounts for the engineering refinement, the stockpiling of materials, the production, and shipment of the weapons. Four more days for them to reach the front.”

Kaspar clicked his beak as he picked up the account. “Our numbers are your saving grace. Once hostilities commence, we will hold the upper claw for a month, perhaps two. After that, there is no stopping the Equestrian Landslide without the Biltzkanonen.”

“‘Once’ hostilities commence? Are we already so sure that war is inevitable? Once we demonstrate that we have weapons equal to their own, would the Equestians not back down?”

The Blackwing gave a tiny shrug. “Maybe. But at the moment, they give no indication of meeting our terms. Perhaps they would if they knew we had stolen their secret weapon, but thanks to your oversight, that is no longer an option.”

Eckhart tried to hide the way he stiffened as he heard that.

“Relax, Zeichner Eckhart,” Kaspar commanded in his slow, deliberate way. “I do not need you wasting your time looking for a blade around your neck. You have nothing to fear—retribution will not change the past.” He regarded Eckhart, who nodded quickly and furtively.

“Good.” He raised a claw and gestured toward the door. “I still think you are a valuable tool, Eckhart. Do not prove yourself too brittle.”

Author's Note

Well!

So as is probably evident by now, I'm still working on this fic. Besides the fact that my good friend and editor DoomManta was taking a little bit of a hiatus, he also asked me to help cover for him. I had a great time editing for Y1 and OrphiusOlyandra, and I look forward to helping him out in the future, but that meant that I had to put my own work on the backburner for a while.

Regardless, the next chapter is almost written, and work has already begun on chapter 12, so I plan on returning to my two-week release schedule. We'll see how university messes that up, I guess.

So anyway, the chapter.

I had a lot of fun with this one. There's comedy, there's plot progression, there's emotion-y-type stuff... I got a workout trying to mesh all the different moods. I also really enjoyed the 'airport' scene. That one I was able to write pretty much in one sitting, and introducing new characters is also really enjoyable ('newness' of characters is desputed; see Temple of the Stars). I also look forward to fleshing out Apple Bloom and her own saga with suddenly being handed the reins of Sweet Apple Acres. Big Mac joining up was mainly just to have him out of the picture, not to indulge myself in the cliche.

So I hope all of you enjoy the chapter, and can forgive its lateness.

Regards,

RaginCaucasian

Chapter 11: The Coin Toss

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE COIN TOSS

Prince Shining Armor, Empress’ Consort, Captain of the Equestrian Royal Guard, and Legate of the Vigil of the Crystal Empire, finished signing his title on the orders he had written and sighed in a way that was becoming far too habitual for his liking. The order was sealed and stamped, and joined a growing pile on the corner of his desk. Shining Armor reached for the next sheet of parchment.

He could read every move the Gryphons were making, even with the limited intelligence he had. They weren’t even bothering to hide anything. It was like playing a game of chess four moves ahead of his opponent—except he only had pawns, and they seemed to have an endless number of pieces. Four moves didn’t mean a thing if checkmate was next turn.

He had seven hundred ponies in the Vigil, and another seven already trained in the Crystal Empire Militia. He had a cadre of a hundred Royal Guards, and four hundred more were getting ready to deploy from Equestria. Celestia had even promised him the full strength of the Equestrian Regulars, once that body was sufficiently trained. That brought his numbers to fifteen hundred at the moment, and two thousand nine hundred in a month’s time.

But staring back at him across the snowy landscape, the Third, Fourth, and Sixth Claws were readying as well. They were encamped in the Tsavorite Valley, a scant twenty kilometers from the edge of Imperial territory, and he had just received word that the Eighth was in flight down the Topaz River to meet them. That brought a total of roughly eight thousand gryphons within spitting distance of his city.

Even with reinforcements, he would still be outnumbered almost three-to-one.

He slouched back in his chair and scrubbed his eyes. That doesn’t even consider the fact that only four-tenths of my force is pegasi. If it comes to dogfighting, the Gryphons will almost certainly gain the upper hoof—claw? Whatever. He snorted in contempt. Unicorns could fight fliers to a point, but earth ponies, limited to crossbows and pikes, would just be sitting ducks for the aerial beasts.

He hardly needed to look up at the map of the Empire that dominated an entire wall of his study—he saw it whenever he closed his eyes, scribbled with force deployments, communication lines, the minutiae of battle. He hoped against hope that he could meet the Gryphons in the rocky gem fields to the east of the city. The broken terrain would hopefully form cover for his hoof forces, and would provide some shelter from the combat storms. The only problem lay in the logistics. If he advanced that far from the city, his supply lines would be vulnerable, but it was necessary in order to spare the city.

The only snowflake’s-chance-in-Tartarus they had was Twilight’s device. The power of magic, from a machine? If it can turn every fighting earth pony into a unicorn, he mused, the odds would fall a fair bit closer to even. He trusted his sister, and it seemed like the spell matrix could be a potent weapon, but he needed to temper his hopes against the reality of an untried, untested weapon. They might be powerful, but if he couldn’t make effective use of them, or even move them to the battlefield, then all that miraculous technology would be for naught. The little he had learned from the communiqués—and the less he had learned from her letters—had been fantastical.

State secrets he could understand, but it was clear that his sister was starting to hide other things from him as well. Her letters had said nothing of the attack—he’d had to read about it from Celestia first. Were the situation not so dire in the Empire, he would probably be back in Ponyville already. He was glad that his and Celestia’s good choice in Bastion was confirmed, though. From the reports, it appeared that the guard had performed admirably.

“Fields?” he called.

An aide poked his head into the room. “Yes, Sir?”

Shining levitated the dispatch over to the pony. “See that Lieutenant Spokes and Tribune Ambrosia receive facsimiles of these dispatches.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And—“ he paused, and sighed. “Rolling?” he said in a softer voice, “I would appreciate it if you could inform the Empress that I will not be able to join her for dinner tonight.”

“Of course, Sir.” Rolling Fields saluted as if he had just received any normal order.

As his aide left, Shining sent a silent prayer to the Sisters. Cadence would have scolded him for the display if she’d seen it, but he prayed anyway. He caught himself wanting to sigh again, and smiled mirthlessly as he started on the next set of orders.

With or without his sister’s wonder-weapon, he still had an empire to defend.

* * *

Honeycomb watched the Empress’ smile flicker as the stallion whispered into her ear. She couldn’t quite catch what he said, even standing right beside them as she worked on Cadence’s mane, but she could tell a forced smile when she saw one.

“Thank you, Rolling Fields,” the alicorn said courteously. “Please… um, no. Nevermind. You are free to go.”

The military pony stepped back and bowed.

After he had vanished from the salon, Cadence sighed. “Girls, thank you. I think this will be enough for now.”

Honeycomb exchanged a glance with Golden Glitter. They had only just finished washing the Empress’ mane.

“Your H-highness?” Golden stammered. “You do not wish us to continue? Your mane is not yet done!”

“Yes, I know, girls. Plans have—” her ears twitched down a bit ”—changed. As it turns out, I will not be making any appearances tonight.”

Golden stepped back. “Shall we… shall we…” Her shine was faltering, opaque bands shimmering across her body. “I mean, do you want something simple instead, Your Highness?” We can—”

“No, it’s fine, Golden. Thank you.” The Empress grasped her mane in a pink glow and tied it in a simple knot. The puzzled stylists stepped out of her way and bowed as Cadence’s entourage formed up around her and she quickly made her leave.

Honeycomb turned to the other stylists. “Golden, what do you think that was all about?”

Golden Glitter shook her head. “I don’t know, Honeycomb.” Her mane and body settled back to a dull bronze as her mood fell. “I don’t think it was anything we did, though.”

“It has to be news of some kind,” Rose Quartz chimed in. “About the gryphons.”

“Don’t be silly,” another one said. “She said it was about an appointment tonight.”

Honeycomb fell behind the other ponies as they cleaned the salon. She felt uneasy whenever the other stylists brought up the gryphons. The way they chatted aimlessly about it…

“Golden?” Honeycomb asked. “Would you mind terribly if I headed home?”

Her boss glanced at the clock. “Not at all, dear—I didn’t realize it was so late,” she mumbled around a mop. “Stay safe.”

The streets of the Empire looked as if they’d surfaced right from the nightmare of Sombra’s reign. Nopony was shining anymore. Their faces were solemn and drawn. The ponies she passed moved with purpose, keeping to themselves. What had once been an idle possibility had become an actual dark shadow hanging over the Empire, as if the gryphons were already in the city, watching them from the tall spires like great, vicious gargoyles.

Purple Polish was already home, figuring out how to make a meal with Equestrian bread. She held one of the enigmatically thin pieces in her hoof. “It falls apart when you dip it in soup. Are we supposed to eat it like this? It just seems so… plain.”

“Then why did you buy it?” Honeycomb asked.

“There was nothing else,” Purple lamented. “I didn’t get off early enough to get a filone.” She huffed, and Honeycomb heard a clattering of plates. “Great. You can’t spread cheese on it, either.”

“It’s fine, Purple. We’ll just have it plain.”

As Honeycomb turned on the radio, Purple Polish brought out two plates of greens and badly-mauled sheets of bread. They sat and chewed the spongy stuff and listened to the Empress’ voice cut through the static.

”Good evening, my little ponies,

I want to talk to you for a few minutes about our safety. You know that out beyond our walls lies the might of the Gryphon Hegemony, but there is no need for fear or panic. You only need look to your fellow ponies to remain strong. In friendship we will stand by each other and with Harmony we will never break apart—”

Purple turned the radio off and sat back down. At Honeycomb’s glance, she said, “Tell me you really wanted to listen to that.”

“I like hearing her voice,” Honeycomb commented as her friend resumed eating. “It’s so... different from what she sounds like in person. Sometimes she practices her speeches while she’s at the salon. It’s kind of exciting—it’s like she’s trusting us with the business of the Empire.” Sometimes Golden would ask her something, and Cadence would stop and think, and scribble on her notes.

“But she always talks about such terrible things. I don’t want to hear about the weekly shield drill, or the gryphons. Or anything like that, really.”

“She has to,” Honeycomb pointed out. “She’s the Empress. She doesn’t lie to us.” She looked down at her plate—she had salvaged most of the vegetables from the bland Equestrian bread.

“Well, we won’t miss much. Really, it’s just going to be more of the same. ‘Be generous and share your food with your neighbors.’” Purple Polish waved her hoof half-heartedly. “‘Stay loyal to the Empire—don’t desert your friends in this time of crisis.’”

Honeycomb could think of a dozen ponies she knew who had already left. The trains departing to Equestria were always packed. Full of those who were fortunate enough to have contacts in Equestria, and those who had no real destination in mind—just the vague notion of ‘anywhere but here.’ And it seemed that for every pony who clambered onto the trains, a stone-faced soldier disembarked to take their place.

Honeycomb couldn’t think of anything to do but stay. The world around the Empire was so unlike the world she had known only a year ago. She’d been as shell-shocked as the rest of the crystal ponies when Sombra’s veil had been lifted and she found out that a thousand years had passed. It was uncanny, and—Honeycomb had to admit—just a little frightening.

Honeycomb gulped. No. They would be perfectly safe. She’d asked the Empress herself. They had the Vigil and the Equestrian Guard. And there was always the shield...

Purple relieved her of her plate. “I’m sorry,” her roommate said, looking over the uneaten bread. “I’ll try to get to the bakery earlier next time.”

“It’s fine, Purple,” Honeycomb murmured.

Purple occupied herself with something in the kitchen. Honeycomb turned the radio on again, and the apartment was filled with quiet music.

* * *

“Austen, this is the fourth time you’ve checked the tightness on those bolts,” Applejack pointed out to the engineer.

“Well, fourth time’s the charm, right?” he mumbled around the allen wrench.

“Um?” Die Cast wrinkled her nose. “Not really sure that’s how that saying goes, boss.”

Snap Punch snickered.

The huge hangar doors were open, and four ponies were enjoying the last moments of the cool, pre-dawn air. Night sounds competed with the buzzing of the electric lights as they cut through the dark, illuminating the craft that had been pulled to the front of the hangar.

Austenite loved the harshness. He was filled with the shaky, giddy feeling he got from waking before the sunrise. The world seemed almost unreal, like he was still dreaming. And yet there was an odd rush of reality and crispness, as if he could see every detail in the scene painted before his eyes. It defied description—or maybe he was just terrible at describing things. Either way, the feeling always reminded him that the day was going to be an important one.

Twin flashes pulsed in the darkness outside the building, and Die Cast and Snap Punch straightened subconsciously. “Good morning, everypony!” Twilight called as she walked up, flanked as ever by Bastion, and carrying a sleepy, cranky dragon on her back. A chorus of ‘Morning’ returned as the ponies extricated themselves from various parts of the structure. She met them under the nose of the prototype.

Twilight looked around at the other sleepless faces and chuckled. “I thought about coming in before everypony else. I guess some of you had the same idea.”

Spike probably mumbled something about the merits of such an idea as he closed his eyes tighter against the electric glare.

“Just wanted to get some last-minute checks in before the test,” Applejack said.

“So how does it look?” Twilight asked her partner with a conspiratorial smile.

Austenite smacked a wing against the hull. “Everything looks good to go. She’ll do it.”

Applejack put a hoof to her chin. “Have y’all thought of a name for it yet?”

“No,” Austenite responded instantly. “I’ve heard it’s bad luck to name a boat before launch. I think the same rules might apply here,” he grinned.

Twilight grinned too. “Well, that means we’ve got three hours to come up with something.”

Austenite turned to her with a resolute look on his face. “Speaking of... Now that you are here, there is something we need to talk about. I’ve been having some qualms about it for a while now, and well...”

Visions of delays and complications filled her head as she heard the tone of his voice, and she tried not to look around worriedly at the other ponies. “Is this something we need to discuss in private?” she leaned in and whispered.

“What? No. We just need to decide who gets to take her up first.”

“Huh?” Twilight blinked in surprise.

He looked expectantly at her for a moment. “...We should choose now so there’s no confusion later,” he clarified.

“Oh. Oh, of course.” She nodded slowly. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Twilight pursed her lips and nodded again, deep in consideration.

Austenite looked nonchalantly around the hangar.

“I’ll do it,” they said simultaneously.

“Saw that coming from a kilometer out,” Die Cast muttered, then ducked back down to avoid mirrored glares.

“Your Highness—” Bastion began.

“No, no, no.” Austenite shook his head with a smirk. “Twilight, I’ll take the first flight. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“But I’m the princess,” she pointed out. “I could just order you to let me.”

“Look,” Austenite said, “it only makes sense to have a pegasus do the test, in case something goes wrong. I can just fly out!”

“Why does everypony keep forgetting about these things!?” Twilight shouted exasperatedly as she flapped a blast of wind in his face. “Besides, this test is only supposed to go up a few meters. I’m perfectly capable of doing that.”

“Your Highness, I would advise against it,” Bastion urged with concern. “Nopony knows how safe that thing is, and—”

“See? You are too important to do it!” The pegasus spoke over the guard.

“Bastion, I order you not to take his side!” Twilight stomped. Bastion shut up.

“Look, just...” Twilight pressed a hoof to her head, then looked at Austenite. “Neither of us are going to back down, are we?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Both of them were practically itching for the opportunity, fidgeting as though the choice was about to be decided by a hoofrace to the prototype.

“Alright. If we can’t decide on merit, then we decide another way.”

“Toss a coin?” Austenite suggested.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Twilight said as she produced a bit, turning it over in her hoof. “Heads, I get to fly it, tails, you?”

“Oh, come on! Why do I have to be tails?” the pegasus harrumphed.

“Fine!” A giggle betrayed Twilight’s mock outrage. “You just call it, then!” She gave the coin a mighty flick with her magic, sending it into the air. Six sets of eyes watched the spinning disk as it rose.

Austenite watched the coin reach its apex. “Tails!” he called.

“Of course,” Twilight deadpanned.

The coin hit the ground and bounced, finally coming to rest at Bastion’s hooves. “Tails,” he stated.

“Yes!” Austenite performed the first two steps of his victory dance before letting out a decidedly mare-like scream as Twilight levitated him upside-down. He flapped his wings spastically. “lemmedownlemmedownlemme—” He smacked into the floor as Twilight’s magic evaporated.

She smirked. “Alright, stinker! You get the first flight. Congratulations, but we still have a lot to do before you can enjoy it.”

* * *

“Ten minutes.”

Austenite, seated half-inside the hatch, flicked through the checklist he had scratched out on a scrap of parchment. Items were crossed off and replaced with twisting notes in the margins, and arrows littered the page, showing revised and re-revised steps in the procedure.

The dozen or so ponies entrusted with the construction of the prototype were outnumbered two-to-one by the guards securing the test area. The unicorns and earth ponies surrounded the field, and the pegasi among them flew patterns around the area, enforcing a no-fly zone surrounding the test. The Ponyville Weather Squad was already done for the day. Rainbow Dash had grumbled at Twilight’s request, but the sky surrounding Sweet Apple Acres had been cleared even before the sun finished peeking over the horizon. There would be no uninvited eyes for the flight.

Twilight and Zircona were with the other ponies a fair distance away, setting up an observation and control station. Twilight had even sent for a motion film camera, all the way from Canterlot. Snap Punch and Die Cast were hurriedly learning how to operate the thing—or at least get it pointed in the right direction.

“Austen, did you hear me? Ten minutes,” Applejack said again.

“Thanks, A.J. How are the batteries?”

She checked the external gauge. “Sittin’ pretty at… twenty-five point seven percent.”

He frowned. Charging had required the dedication of the entire Ponyville power grid. Even siphoning power for the entire night before the test had only given them a paltry ten minutes of flight time.

“Well, that’ll have to do. Either it works or it doesn’t.” He unclamped the massive power line from the battery unit, and passed it out to her.

“Are you nervous?” Applejack asked.

“I’m always nervous about the first test,” Austenite replied. “I mean, if something happens—” he flexed his wings “—I can just fly out. But… our work...” He patted the metal hull with and gave their ship a disquiet look.

“It’ll work,” Applejack assured him. “Ah know it will.”

“I know it will, too,” he defended. He looked at the ponies gathering behind Twilight’s safe distance. “That’s what I worry about, is all.”

They shared a glance. “Are you all set here?” Applejack asked finally.

Austenite breathed in as he looked around. “Yes. I think we’re ready to go.”

“Alright. Well...” Applejack hesitated glancing toward the line of ponies behind them. Then she darted forward on uneven hooves and pressed her lips against his cheek. After half a second, she stepped back, face somewhere between abashed and grinning. “Good luck, Austen,” she said, then turned and retreated back to the others.

It was a moment before Austenite remembered the checklist in his hooves.

* * *

Leaving the hatch open, Austenite swung down into the stifling cockpit and seated himself in the padded couch. Surrounding him were all manner of gauges and control panels, unpowered and quiet, smelling faintly of oil. Through the windows, he could see the brilliant orange pony step behind their makeshift barrier.

“Are you ready, Austen?” Twilight’s voice came crackling through the radio.

“Looks like it.” He fired off a quick prayer to the Royal Sisters. “Alright. Bringing main electrical power on-line,” he narrated into the microphone.

He nosed the power switches, and a faint humming filled the cockpit. Needles rose in their gauges, peaking, flickering, but staying out of the red. Status lights burned a brilliant green across the board. “Looks good. No shorts so far.” His hoof hovered shakily over the engine controls, hurrying through his checklist. He was burning time, after all. “Turning on power to secondary gems...”

The familiar white glow came on behind him. Austenite looked over the readouts, checking against the figures he had scribbled down. “Okay...okay... Looks like the gems are discharging at a nominal rate... Bringing up the primaries... now.” And...

* * *

A rhythmic sound pounded the air as the twin matrices spun up, with slower and slower beats as the frequencies of the two came closer and closer. A similar, magical rhythm tickled through the horns of the various assembled unicorns. The craft rocked side-to-side slightly as the primaries reached full speed. The gravity spell began to initiate, and metal pinged as the structure took the stress.

Behind the lens of the camera, Die Cast sniffed the air and grunted aside to Snap Punch, “Hmm. So on a scale of one to safe, about how safe do you think we are right now?”

A loud, whooping siren suddenly breached the air. Some of the gathered ponies looked around in alarm and started forward. Austenite yelled something incoherent from inside the craft.

“What?” Twilight called into the radio. “Austen, what’s going on?” Only static replied.

The pegasus climbed halfway out of the ship. “What exactly is that alarm for?” Austenite shouted over the din.

She cocked an ear and listened for a moment. “I don’t know!” Twilight yelled back. Other ponies shook their heads as her unsure gaze fell on each of them in turn.

Amid the sound of sparks and shearing metal, the horn cut off abruptly. Austenite reappeared at the hatch, a bundle of wires in his mouth. He spat them out on the ground.

“Don’t need it, then,” he said breathlessly as he disappeared back inside.

Snap Punch looked over the parts that Austenite had just torn from their prototype. She tapped her chin and replied to her friend, “Oh, I’d say…. naught point two?”

“Hmm.” Die Cast nodded, mulling over Snap Punch’s assessment. “That’s pretty safe.”

She nodded as well. “Yeah, way better than we usually get.”

* * *

“Okay... so let’s try that again.”

Austenite gingerly stretched into the seat and rested his hooves on the control levers. His right forehoof controlled pitch and roll; the left, power and vertical movement. His hindhooves controlled the yaw. He gave the controls an experimental tug, and heard clacking as the secondaries articulated. The pitch of the matrices shifted in response. Austenite grinned. He couldn’t tell if the flutter in his stomach was from the gravity spell or his own excitement.

“Bringing up the throttle… now,” he said, and fed it power. With matrices roaring, the beast shifted and rocked as Equis’ hold on it eased. It began to slide sideways on the ground. The pegasus’ heart raced, and he pulled on the controls. The motion jerkily reversed itself as he overcorrected. The ship’s stubby rear legs ground twin paths through the dirt.

“Woah! Wowowoah!” He panicked as he overcorrected again. This was nothing like flying with his own wings! He reduced power, and the ship crunched solidly onto the dirt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the rocking came to a stop.

“Is everything okay, Austen?”

“Yeah,” he said shakily, looking at the battery indicators. Four minutes of power remaining. If he didn’t get it the second time… “I just gotta get used to it, is all.”

He set his hooves back on the levers. Don’t break it. Don’t break it. For the love of the Goddesses, don’t break it, Austen.

He added power once more, and the matrices resumed their melodic whine. He focused on holding the controls as level as he could. Again the ship started drifting to the right. He tried shifting the controls minutely, and shivered when it felt like it wasn’t working. He resisted the urge to pull harder.

Gently... gently...

His hooves practically twitched the controls now, and the sideways motion stopped and slowly became upward motion instead. “Oh Luna!” He let out a whoop that could be heard even over the screaming engines.

One meter. Two meters. Austenite’s world became the gauges in front of his nose as he slowly gained altitude.

Three meters.

Four.

He shifted the power back...

The needle crossed over the first hashmark. Five meters.

He and the five tons of metal he was sheathed in were hovering five meters above the ground, wavering slightly as he ticked one way or the other on the controls. His heart was in his throat, all his attention on keeping the ball dead still. Shifting his hindhooves, he halted his slow turn as the nose pointed toward the crowd.

Austenite spared a glance out the windows, and smiled. Hardly a different view for a pegasus, or even an earth pony climbing a tall tree, but he would have traded his wings to see it from the seat of his cockpit.

But infinitely too soon for the engineer, a tone reminded him of his dwindling power. With more and more ease, he let back off the power again, letting the vessel coast gently back towards the ground.

* * *

The footage from the motion camera would later prove useless due to the wild, spastic panning, and the rancorous cheering that completely obscured the sound. At the end of the reel, the unit even tipped over as the operator apparently abandoned it, surging up with the rest of the crowd.

Ponies rushed forward into the expanding dust cloud even before the ship had settled fully to the ground. A giddy and disoriented Austenite was pried from the cockpit and hoisted onto the shoulders of the team. Spike was jumping up and down, exclaiming “Holy Guacamole!” Stoneheart stood to the side, puffing appreciatively on his pipe. The doctor contrasted the baby dragon quite nicely with his own exclamation, “Well slap my ass and call me a bitch! It worked.”

Twilight pushed through the throng. She saw Applejack pull the pegasus down into a hug, but whatever she said to him was drowned out by the noise of the crowd. Then the engineer broke away, and turned to see Twilight. She smiled and shook her head.

“I think it worked,” he shouted over the ovation, giving her a wild, ecstatic grin.

“I saw,” she yelled back. “I think there’s cause for celebration.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned too. “Because now the moon is as good as ours!”

Chapter 1: A Modestly Outrageous Proposal

CHAPTER ONE: A MODESTLY OUTRAGEOUS PROPOSAL

Deep breaths, Twilight, deep breaths. Everything is going to be fine, everything is—

“I think I’m experiencing some technical difficulties. I can’t seem to... uhh, I can’t seem to move my legs.”

Twilight Sparkle flared her wings exasperatedly. We’re supposed to present our findings in—she quickly checked the clock—two minutes, and he picks now of all times to get stage fright? And if Spike is late with the cart...

They couldn’t have had more important ponies waiting for them. Professors from the School for Gifted Unicorns, the top inventors from Luna’s college... and of course, the two beings that mattered most of all.

“Okay, Austen, let’s go over this again. We’re going to walk out on stage—“

“Mm-hm,” Austenite said.

“—I’m going to introduce us—”

“Check.”

“—and give a short introduction to our work—“

“Yup.”

“—then I’m going to hoof it over to you. And you’re going to…?”

The tan pegasus looked back at Twilight. He put on his most confident, easygoing smile, which almost immediately faltered. “…Panic?”

Twilight facehoofed. It wasn’t just the four months of research they’d put into this. This was the first time she’d been back in the capitol since her ascension. The first time she would be meeting Celestia not just as her student, but as an equal. She had to make sure Celestia wasn’t disappointed in her for declining to move back to the capitol. That required their plan to go off without a hitch. Their equipment she could test. Her partner? He took a little more time to get ready.

“Austen, we’ve been working on your public speaking skills all week. You practiced this before. You even spoke in front of the Ponyville town hall for the architectural review board!” she said in an exasperated whisper.

“I’m fine speaking in front of ponies!” he hissed. “It’s the Princesses I’m worried about! Do you remember the Princess attendance count at that town meeting? Zero!” he shot back. He worked his wings back and forth with nervous energy.

“Don’t I count as a princess?” Twilight deadpanned, giving her wings a little flap.

“Er, well... I mean, of course you do!” Austenite backpedaled furiously. “It’s just that... well, you’re always so friendly and nice and you don’t act like a Princess at all! ...Wait, no! I don’t mean that you don’t act like a Princess; you do! I mean just... not like Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would act. I think. Not all stern and imposing and all-powerful! It’s easy to forget!” He scratched his mane sheepishly.

“Besides the whole, um, horn-and-wings thing, I mean.”

Twilight facehoofed again.

“It’s going to be fine! Pretend that the princesses aren’t there, if that helps.”

“Easy for you to say. I’ve never seen either of the Princesses before, let alone talked to them. How can I possibly ignore them? They’ll be sitting there, all... big!... And doing their hair... thing!”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Hair thing?”

“Yes. That’s the technical term for it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I checked.”

Breathe in, Breathe out. Right. Logic. Engineers like logic, right?

“Well, if everything goes according to plan, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of them in the future, so it’s best if you try to get over your fears now.” Twilight laid a foreleg on his shoulder, but she could still feel him shaking under her hoof. “We’ve practiced this before: I start talking, and you jump in whenever you’re ready. I can cover the magical aspects of our work just as well, but I’m really counting on you to help explain the mechanics.”

The back door bumped open, admitting a tarpaulin-covered dolley, a small, green fin poking out behind it. “Hey, Twilight,” Spike said in-between heavy breaths.

Twilight frowned and looked at the clock again. “You’re late, Spike.”

The dragon shrugged off the accusation. “Almost late.”

Spike poked his head through the curtains, checking to see if the audience was seated. Behind him, Twilight could see that the lights in the auditorium were already dimmed. “Hey, they’re ready for you guys,” Spike reported.

“Are you ready with the display?” she asked.

“Yep! I made sure to bring a fresh battery from the library like you said, and it’s all ready to be rolled out.”

“Great job, Spike. Ready, Austen?” Twilight asked as she nudged Austenite along, the pegasus needing a little impetus to start walking. They walked side by side out from behind the curtains. “Good luck!” Spike whispered.

Before them, the dim auditorium was almost devoid of ponies. Out of a capacity of five hundred ponies, only twelve sat in the first row. Twilight recognized several unicorns as professors from Celestia’s school, all dressed up in jackets and work apparel. There were several earth ponies and pegasi from Luna’s College of the Sciences. And there, at the end of the bench, sat the Royal Sisters, flowing manes carefully tucked behind them. The ponies were on their best behavior in the presence of their rulers, but Twilight could see several of them sneaking glances at watches or working their muzzles in an attempt to stifle yawns.

She glanced quickly at Princess Celestia, who gave a small smile in return. Twilight cleared her throat before beginning. “Good morning, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, mares and gentlecolts. My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle, former student of Princess Celestia and librarian at the Golden Oaks Library in Ponyville.” She gestured toward Austenite. “This is my good friend and associate, Austenite, formerly an engineer at Wright and Colts in Trottingham, and we’re here to talk about some of our findings on the development of Spell Matrices.” Twilight paused to smile, and to look over at Austen. Her partner said nothing, but gave the tiniest, almost imperceptible shake of the head, prompting her to continue. Twilight looked back at the audience.

“Normally, when you want something enchanted, you need a unicorn to cast a spell for it, and in all cases the spell will eventually wear off. So if you want something to be enchanted for long periods of time, you either need to infuse the spell with an enormous amount of magical energy from the start, which is particularly inefficient, or you need to periodically re-cast the spell. For earth ponies and pegasi, this requires having a unicorn around to help, which can be a problem in a town like Ponyville that doesn’t have a very large unicorn population.”

Some of the ponies in the audience shifted grumpily, annoyed that they had been called there for a remedial magic lesson. The princesses sat still, though, and Twilight continued.

“Gemstones are already used as focusing elements in complex spells, and we believed that with the proper setup, gemstones could be used to convert electrical energy into magical energy to sustain a spell without any further input from a unicorn. There was even the possibility of taking that idea one step further. If gems could be used to sustain a spell, could they also be used to cast the spell in the first place?”

That elicited murmuring from the gathered ponies as they started trying to work out the implications of such a device.

“It took several months of work, but we were able to build a spell matrix that can sustain a spell for a short time using one of the new developed chemical batteries.” Seeing that the presentation was going along smoothly, Twilight decided to turn it over to the engineer. He's had enough time to calm down, and besides, he’s better at talking to the engineers, anyway. “Austenite? Would you care to discuss the physical matrix in more detail?”

Austenite’s eyes went wide and he clenched his wings tightly to himself as everypony’s attention turned to him. “Well… uh…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I-in order to demonstrate the concept more easily, we have prepared a small demonstration. Spike? Can you bring out the display?”

On cue, Spike appeared from behind the curtain as well, pushing a large cart, a white sheet covering some bulky machinery beneath it. There was excited whispering, pointed hooves, boredom and agitation forgotten. Ponies leaned in and set forehooves on the stage, peering intently at the cart, trying to discern what was underneath the cloth. Austenite even gave a spastic little shake, his excitement boiling over. With dramatic flair, Spike whipped off the cloth, revealing the contraption.

The spell matrix, about half a meter tall, looked like a spider turned to silvery metal. About a central axis, thin, curving arms branched out in all directions, each arm ending with a gem, secured in fine silver filigree. The gems came in all varieties, but each was the finest of specimens, expertly cut and polished. It had taken Twilight a sizable stack of bits to order those. The arms were articulated, with bolts and pins for adjusting the gems. Even unpowered, the alignment of the gems sparked a sort of familiarity in the unicorns present, as if they could discern the spell the matrix was attuned to by simply looking at the pattern.

“As you can see,” Austenite’s voice cut through the buzz, “the active components of the spell matrix, the gems, are held in place by these arms here. When a current is applied through them, they convert the electrical power into magical power. At first, we saw that power was drawn to any ambient enchantment.”

“We almost discovered it by accident,” he said in a rush. “Each spell requires a specific number, type, and orientation of gems in order to sustain it, but we built a sort of generic matrix that was able to sustain a variety of spells. After one particular test, power was accidentally routed through the matrix after the spell had died, and Twilight said she felt the spell start to cast again.”

A grin had crept onto his face as he talked, and the audience almost seemed to blur into the background. He was almost trotting around the stage, the animation returning to his voice as he relived the moment of discovery. Now, the audience was caught up in his excitement, too, like foals exploring some wonderful new toy.

“It turns out that if the matrix is in a close enough configuration, it seems to ‘remember’ the spell architecture, and with some fine tuning, Twilight and I were able to create a matrix which performed a spell entirely on its own.”

Twilight hid a smile as he remembered to pause for dramatic effect.

“We’d like to show that spell matrix to you now.”

Austenite set about double-checking the matrix, moving mouth screws, making small adjustments here and there, while Twilight resumed the speaking.

“Once powered, this matrix should cast a telekinesis spell on an object at a specific relative distance away.” Twilight conjured up a falcon feather, and placed it over a small dot she had marked on the stage beforehoof. Austenite connected a large chemical battery to some leads, and he, Twilight, and Spike retreated a few paces away. Twilight and Austenite thought they had accounted for any possible complication, but one too many mix-ups in her basement laboratory, and a few too many singed manes, had taught them the virtue of wariness. Twilight gathered her magic in case she needed to cast a shield around the matrix if something went wrong.

Austen threw a switch, sending blue sparks sailing through the air. Eleven ponies, three Alicorns, and a baby dragon watched the spell matrix. The gems in the matrix flickered and began to glow a pure white. The machine started humming, each gem producing a glassy note, the different pitches combining into an eerie, yet weirdly melodic sound. Austenite gripped a knob with his mouth to adjust the voltage to the correct level. The feather was bathed in a faint miasma of matching white color, which grew more opaque as the humming grew louder. Nopony said a word as the feather began to twitch, then rise, ever so slowly, suspended only by the spell matrix. As the brightness and the humming reached a climax, it stopped, hovering a meter off the ground, revolving lazily about itself. Austen left the machine running for ten more seconds, then shut off the power. The magical field evaporated, and the feather drifted back down to the stage floor.

It was as if Twilight had stepped down from the stage and slapped every single pony across the face. The audience was speechless. Princess and pony alike sat there with mouths agape. The wooden bench creaked as ponies rocked back appreciatively. She could see it in their eyes—they had all just heard it, but nopony had truly believed it until they’d seen it with their own eyes. Some among them had suspected a trick; some unicorn standing offstage levitating the feather. Only a unicorn could make magic, they all knew that. The idea that some... thing, some inanimate machine, could perform their greatest gift? Preposterous! But to all the unicorns present, it was clear that there was no pony casting that spell. There was an otherworldly feeling to the magic: cold, uniform, and lifeless.

Twilight was prepared to see surprise on the ponies’ faces. She had certainly been in their horseshoes the first time the machine had worked. What she hadn’t been prepared for were Celestia and Luna’s reactions. Both of them looked as shocked as the normal ponies. She could almost swear that her mentor’s look bordered on alarm.

She hadn’t considered that Celestia wouldn’t know about this; she had always assumed that Celestia knew everything about magic. How couldn’t she have? Celestia was an alicorn who had lived for thousands of years. Her magic was powerful enough to move both of the heavenly bodies at the same time! Thousands of years of knowledge, the entire Canterlot library, and she had never come across something like this? Twilight knew that there were other researchers, some of them in this very room, probing the details of spellcraft, but she thought that the magical knowledge of ponykind was largely complete.

Have we discovered a completely new field of magic?

Celestia was the first to speak, her normally melodious voice reduced to a whisper. “Twilight… is this real? Did that spell matrix… did it really just do that all on its own?” The princess looked incredulously back and forth from the machine to the feather to her student.

Twilight’s eyes met her mentor’s gaze, and she slowly nodded.

“In all my years, I have never seen magic such as this,” Celestia said. Princess Luna, on the other hoof, expressed her opinion with traditional Royal Canterlot Subtlety.

“What an incredible machine!” Luna exclaimed, and the ponies present jumped to their hooves and gave Twilight and Austenite a standing ovation. Both of them blushed slightly, Twilight smiling sheepishly while Austenite beamed. Any shred of decorum was lost as the ponies crowded around the researchers and their invention, craning their necks to inspect every nut and bolt, shouting questions like ponies shouting prices at market.

“How much mass can the spell matrix lift?”

“—quality of gems does it need?”

“—fancy Crystal Empire magic? Your account of the charging of the Crystal Heart—“

“—able to create a pony-portable version?”

The commotion was overwhelming; Twilight and Austenite were almost bowled over by the crowd, when Celestia stood up and cleared her throat, the action silencing the other ponies almost instantly.

“I know that you all have questions for Princess Twilight and Austenite,” the Sun Princess soothed, “but I’m afraid they will have to wait. I’m sure in a few days they will be available for comment. Thank you all for coming, and for your enthusiasm.”

Celestia brought both Twilight and Austenite under one of her giant wings, herding them toward one of the corridors, while Luna replaced the sheet on top of the prototype and gingerly grasped it in her magic. The Royal Sisters quickly whisked them out of the auditorium.

* * *

“I’m so proud of you, Twilight. You have done wonderful work. Both of you have.” Celestia nuzzled Twilight affectionately.

“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight responded, returning the nuzzle.

After the presentation, Spike had gone off to enjoy a well-deserved break, and Twilight and Austenite had accompanied the Royal Sisters into a private study somewhere near the princesses’ personal chambers. The room was cozy, with a fire combatting the chill of the early spring day, and rows of bookshelves lining the wall. Luna sat perched in a high-backed chair, while Celestia sat with Twilight and Austenite on the rug. Austenite, to his credit, seemed to be more at ease in the presence of royalty than he had during the presentation. Celestia was examining their prototype in more detail, sometimes probing the individual gems with her magic, and occasionally asking questions about its operation.

“How on Equis did you come up with this marvelous idea, Twilight?” she mused.

Celestia’s prized pupil made a dismissive gesture with her hoof. “Well, after my friends and I returned from helping the Crystal Empire, I began thinking about the Crystal Heart. I was wondering how the Heart was able to focus the magical energy of the Crystal Ponies and cast the, well, whatever spell it was. We’ve been using gems and crystals to help focus spells for forever, but that still requires the unicorn to know what she’s doing. The amazing thing is, that without any of the ponies actually knowing the spell, they were still able to banish Sombra and cleanse the land. It was as if they were only supplying the magical energy, and the crystal itself was shaping and casting the spell.

“Of course, it’s not like I could have just walked back and borrowed the Crystal Heart, so I needed to build something similar.” Twilight nodded at her partner. “That’s when I wrote to Austenite; I know enough about the magical aspects, but I needed an engineer to help with the actual design and construction.”

“And you came all the way from Trottingham?” Luna asked him. “Surely there are many capable ponies in Ponyville…?”

“Yes, Your Highness, but Twilight had met me before. See, Wright and colts was one of the firms that helped rebuild Ponyville after the parasprite swarm.” Twilight suddenly found something very interesting on the floor to look at, and Austenite chuckled. “Twilight was in charge of organizing the re-building and I guess she was impressed by my work,” he shrugged. “I... happened to be in Ponyville at the time, and...” he trailed off.

Twilight nodded and continued, eager to get past the part where she’d had a hoof in destroying the town.

“So Austen helped me build the first model. Originally, I was testing it by just channeling my magic through the device, which was tiring to say the least. But then Austen suggested that we try powering it with earth pony magic, with electricity, and well, Princess, you’ve already seen the rest.”

“Marvelous,” Celestia repeated.

“Indeed,” Luna affirmed. “Such a device will have a great influence on all of ponykind. Can you imagine, sister? With this device, anypony can create magic! Earth ponies could use such a machine to farm twice as fast. Menial jobs only possible for unicorns could be taken care of. Why, there may be no limit to what this can do!” It was the second or third time that Luna had reiterated that point.

“Yes, Your Highness!” Austenite said. “But remember, this is just a prototype. We can’t get it to run for a long time or move anything massive yet. But when we reach state of the art, it will probably take years to figure out all of the potential applications for a spell matrix. Automated farming, fabrication, that’s just the start. A spell matrix can be anywhere there’s a power source. Cast a levitation spell on a chariot? Suddenly you don’t need pegasi to pull it through the air anymore. But levitation is one of the more simple gravity spells. Some of the more advanced ones could have more... interesting uses.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, realizing where Austenite’s line of reasoning was taking him. Is this how he’s planning on bringing our plans up to the princesses?

Luna brought a hoof to her chin in contemplation. “We could use a pony like you at the engineering college, Austenite. You could do great things with our resources…”

“Yes, it certainly bears thinking on,” Celestia interjected. “But we will have to be careful in deciding how to introduce this new device to Equestria.” She laughed nervously. “My little ponies are still trying to get used to the idea of electricity. I don’t think we should reveal your invention just yet.” The Sun Princess’ voice turned graver than Twilight was used to hearing.

“Oh.” Twilight felt crestfallen. She had been looking forward to showing the princess her research, and had wanted so much for Celestia to approve, because all of their other ideas hinged on Celestia’s approval. She saw Austen squirm as well, but the determined look on his face told Twilight that he was going to press on. After all, he was the one who had initially thought of the idea, and he wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded.

“I’m not sure you understand, Your Highness,” Austenite said quietly. Celestia turned to regard the pegasus, and Twilight’s stomach sank to her hooves. Despite risking the displeasure of one of the being who controlled the very sun, he pressed on. “We’ve already done some preliminary testing with a gravity reversal spell, which could be a more efficient way of achieving flight than using a conventional hot-air balloon.”

Technically true: they had done tests with the gravity reversal spell Twilight had used in the Crystal Empire, but none of those tests had been entirely successful. Twilight had forgotten to adjust the range of the spell matrix. They were just lucky that nopony had been in the library when gravity suddenly started pulling the books and all of the shelves up. Indeed, it was rather fortunate that there were no pony casualties, as Twilight was quick to admonish Spike whenever he brought up the loss of his painstakingly crafted breakfast.

But Austen was getting ahead of himself. They had agreed not to bring up the second part of their proposal if the princesses didn’t like the spell matrix. Although, it seemed that Luna, at least, was intrigued, Twilight didn’t really want to go ahead with it if Celestia wasn’t interested.

But Austenite was ready to take the plunge. He had gotten up and was now pacing about the room. “A craft outfitted with a gravity spell matrix could fly higher than a hot-air balloon, too. Maybe—“

“Austen! We said we wouldn’t!” Twilight tried to cut him off. Celestia turned to her, perhaps about to ask her to clarify, but Austenite stole the attention back with his next words.

“Maybe we could travel all the way to the moon.”

For a moment, everypony was silent, and all that could be heard was the crackling of the fireplace. Twilight, to her credit, managed not to instantly turn around and try to apologize to her mentor. “To the moon…” Luna repeated slowly, not in disbelief, but in a thoughtful tone.

“Yes, your highness,” Austenite said, his words taking up an almost reverent quality, “in a special craft. A boat, designed not to keep the water out, but the air in.” Now that he was committed, he explained in more detail. It became clear to the princesses that the two ponies had already given this some thought. “Even pegasi have difficulty flying higher than a certain point, so the craft would need its own reserve of air—“

“No.” This time, the simple word was enough to bring Austenite to a halt. The ruler of Equestria had brought her hoof down, and the princess, no matter how polite she was normally, was not used to her commands being disobeyed. Celestia stood, bringing her full height to bear, towering almost twice as tall as Austenite, evoking the days when risking the princess’ displeasure was to risk life and limb.

Twilight jumped in to try to distract her mentor from him. “Princess Celestia, I’m so sorry!” She ran up next to the pegasus. “It was just a little idea that we talked about. We weren’t even going to bring it up if you didn’t like the spell matrix! We can promise not to talk about it anymore if you want!”

“That is quite alright, Twilight Sparkle.” Celestia relaxed her tone a bit. “It is only natural for ponies to be curious about the world around them, and what lies outside that world, but sometimes it is best if the farthest reaches remain… unexplored. It simply is not safe for ponies to travel in space.” She bent down to rest her head on Twilight’s neck and sighed. “There are many dangerous things out there, Twilight. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Twilight seemed taken aback by this. “Of c-course, Princess. I didn’t imagine that it could be dangerous. I wouldn’t want to make you worry.”

Celestia smiled. “Thank you, Twilight. Make no mistake, you and your friend have created a wonderful thing today. We just need to make sure that it’s safe for everypony.”

Austenite cocked his head to one side. “So that means…?”

Celestia gazed thoughtfully at the pegasus. “I want you to leave the spell matrix and its blueprints here so I can study them here in Canterlot. I’ll send Spike a letter when I’ve finished.”

“How long do you think that’s going to take, Princess?” Twilight asked.

“I’m not sure; I may have to send for experts from all over Equestria. It will probably be for the best if you return to Ponyville in the meantime.”

Luna rose from her chair and walked over to the spell matrix. “Fear not, Twilight Sparkle and Austenite. I will not allow your invention to gather dust on some shelf,” she said as she reached out to brush the device with her wing.

Celestia looked at her sister for a long moment. “That’s right. My sister and I will give this our highest priority.”

“Oh, thank you, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna!” Twilight hugged her teacher’s leg, and Celestia smiled again. Austenite, not on quite the same terms with the princesses, just felt that a simple ‘thank you’ would be sufficient.

“You’re quite welcome, both of you. Now, however, I’m afraid royal duty calls. Princess Luna and I are due to meet with the Gryphon ambassador, and it would be quite rude to be late. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll have just enough time to catch the train back to Ponyville.”

Celestia led the ponies out of the room, and they took off to go collect Spike. Looking back over her shoulder, her gaze met Luna’s. Luna suppressed a sigh.

She knew that look, the one that Celestia reserved for… special occasions. That look meant that the royal sisters were going to have a chat when this was through.

* * *

Skinfaxi held a special meeting today. One of my informants described to me a wondrous device now in her hooves, one that could solve all our problems.

Have an agent ready on a day’s notice. I will contact you in the usual way. And damn the new ambassador- tell him nothing. You may work for him now, but I am still in charge of operations.

Mit ausgebreiteten flügeln, bruder.