To Land Among the Stars

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!”