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?”