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