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.