"... So we were both right," I said, my agitated pacing coming to a halt. "She may not be biblical, but she's definitely a harbinger."
Adams, leaning back in his chair, had listened in silence to the account of my conversation with Twilight. His brow deeply furrowed, he stared at the bare surface of his kitchen table.
Finally, he spoke. "The Devil has many servants..."
I slammed my palms on the tabletop. "Never mind the Devil! I'm talking about invasion!"
It was the first time in my life I had ever raised my voice to a superior, and I mentally prepared for a reprimand. But Adams remained calm.
"If you are right," he said, "and she is neither infernal nor divine, then she doesn't know what humanity is capable of."
His words, and the realization that followed, drained most of my anger, almost in an instant. "Uh, actually, she might." I took a step back. "Because I... I let her read my books, and... but I don't know how much she knows, and... damn it, I should have known better!" I began pacing again. "Her intelligence is absolutely intimidating. She's not only a faster learner than I've ever met, but possibly the best strategist. It would be easy—she pretends to be our friend, just as the early explorers did when they met the natives. They trade for things we can't get ourselves, and it all seems fine for a while. But then..." I trailed off.
"They're the colonists," Adams said.
"And we're the natives. It might be even worse than that; we're not even the same species, so... God! How could I have been so stupid? She wants me to be a local guide, just like the pioneers had."
Adams looked out the window, at the forest across the bay. "Regulating nature..."
My anxiousness began to reach a fever pitch again. "Weather control... terraforming... She says she wants to make this world like Equestria! No more real wilderness. And no offense, but you haven't exactly given her a good impression of local beliefs. So those might be on the block too, when the time comes. It's happened before."
This prompted an annoyed look from Adams. "When I mentioned the Devil's servants," he said, "I only meant she might be one of those who does his work unknowingly." His eyes strayed toward the bookshelves. "But perhaps if these Equestrians could be reasoned with..."
I shook my head. "They're not an enlightened people. I heard her swearing by Celestia's name. That means the Equestrians worship her, like, like..."
"Like the ancient Egyptians worshiped the Pharaoh."
"Yes!" I said. "That's exactly it! She said Celestia raised the sun—like Pharaohs or Aztec priests. They must think it's a stronger version of their weather-control powers. All their rulers would have to do, is put on a light show when the sun was about to rise. They have no idea how big stars actually are."
Despite the limited space, my pacing accelerated. "If they can alter the weather, lift things with their minds, and move from one world to another, who knows what else they're capable of? There are few things more dangerous than power in the hands of the ignorant. If they're as powerful as I suspect, what chance would humanity stand? When she said she'd bring peace to Earth by force..." I ran one hand down the back of my head, trying to banish the prickling dread. "... She said I'd be crazy to turn her down."
"That sounds like a veiled threat," Adams said.
"It sort of does, now that I think about it. But even if it's not... Even if she has no intent to conquer us... If she goes home and tells her people about Earth, and someone more avaricious than her learns of a world that's ripe for the taking... Damn it, what can we do?"
Adams did not answer. He was looking at a shiny spot on the table. I wondered what he was thinking about. Would he have an answer?
I realized then that the spot had not been there a moment ago. I saw dust particles move through an angled shaft of space that stretched from the table to the window, and realized that spot was where the sun reflected off the table's finish.
I looked out the window. In the sky above, there was a gap in the slate, through which I saw a shade of blue that had not appeared above Cook Point in almost a month. It was tiny, but it would grow.
The year's halcyon days had come.
* * *
My front door closed behind me, and Twilight turned to me from her place at the windowsill, where she had been watching the patch of blue as it edged out the greys that had covered the sky for weeks. I could not remember the last time I had seen someone so happy. She called my name, and practically bounded up to me, snout and tail held high.
"This is it!" she cried with joy. "I mean, I can't leave right now, but when those clouds clear away..." She looked at the blue patch, which had grown still larger. "What a relief! I never want to have to wait on the weather again."
"I guess someday, I'll be one of the last people who remembers doing that," I said. "By the way, I asked Adams if I could show you the engine room. He said yes."
"Oh, right!" She must have forgotten the previous day's request. "Where is he, anyway?"
"Had some urgent messages to send," I said. "Coast Guard business. He asked me not to let you go until he was done. He wants to watch you cast the spell." I smiled and shook my head a bit. "Guess he still thinks you're some kind of angel or something."
"Hey," she said, looking me in the eye. "I'm really grateful for everything you've done. So don't worry anymore—from now on, everything's gonna be just fine."
I turned away, and opened the front door. "Come and see," I said.
A moment later, we stood in the engine room's foyer. I pulled a pair of earmuffs from a rack on the wall.
"We're about to pass through a mostly-soundproof door," I said. "It's loud enough in there to permanently damage your hearing, so you'll have to wear these."
"I don't think they'll fit me," she said. "Here..." Her horn shimmered, and sourceless light appeared within her ears. "Alright, let's see them."
I put the earmuffs on, opened the door, and led her in.
The generators were two identical masses of cylinders, plate metal, bolts, wires, ducts, guages, and more. We alternated their use month-by-month, and now, only the one on the left was running. I led Twilight toward it, and pointed out the guages, and the decals that spelled "DANGER – HOT," as well as the only external moving part: the blunt end of the crankshaft, which stuck out the engine's front, and was protected around the top and sides, but not the front, by a metal shield. As Twilight peered closer at it, I waved her away. If any part of her mane had touched the whirling cylinder, it could have pulled her into it, and destroyed the machinery.
Off to one side, there was a door to a small utility closet. It was unlabeled, and painted the same gunmetal grey as the walls, so hardly anyone, seeing the engine room for the first time, would have given it a second glance. Twilight had not noticed the peephole recently drilled in that door.
Over the engine noises and the sound-dampening spell, she did not hear that door opening, nor the footsteps of the person who emerged. I saw this in my peripheral vision, and tried to focus on pointing out the engine's parts, one by one—stalling for time. But when I glimpsed the figure standing just behind Twilight, with a sledgehammer raised above its head, my treacherous eyes turned and fixed upon it.
Twilight looked up at me, and saw the direction of my gaze. She began to turn around...
* * *
We were about two miles out when Adams stopped the engine. I knelt in the bottom of the boat, gripped the edge of the full burlap sack that lay there, and began to awkwardly drag it to the starboard side.
It had not been quick. His aim thrown off, Adams had dealt a glancing blow with the hammer, and Twilight had fallen to the floor, stunned. Earlier, I had hidden a long knife in the engine room's rag box, and I grabbed it as soon as Twilight's face hit the concrete.
"Alright," I said. "Help me with this." With the chains we had wrapped around her, she was too heavy for me to lift over the boat's side.
"Wait." Adams took the sack into his arms, opened it, and exposed the ruined head. He propped it up with one hand, as if he was holding an infant. He raised his gaze to the heavens, squinting into the light. And he spoke, but not to me.
"Holy Lord, almighty and eternal God, hear our prayers for your servant. Forgive her sins and failings, and grant her a place of contentment, light, and peace..."
I hung my head. I saw the blood and feathers that clung to my jacket—smeared up the middle and along the arms, from when I had dragged Twilight to the boathouse.
"... Let her pass unharmed through the gates of death to dwell with the blessed in light, as you promised to Abraham and his children forever..."
I tore the thing from my back and threw it into the sea. I then leaned over the port side, and dipped my hands in the brine, heedless of the cold.
"... Accept her into your safekeeping, and on the great day of judgement, raise her up with all the righteous to inherit your eternal kingdom. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen."
When I withdrew them, there was still red under my fingernails. I tried in vain to scrape it out.
From the starboard came a repugnant gurgle, and when I looked, Twilight was gone, with only a rust-colored disturbance on the water to mark her passing.
A wave of nausea hit me, and I leaned forward, my teeth clenched and my arms around my chest. It passed, but slowly.
"You alright?" Adams said.
"Seasick," I lied.
"Yeah." Adams grimaced and stared into the water. "Me too."
The return journey passed in silence. As we approached the high peninsula of Cook Point, I looked up at the station, and for the first time, felt none of the warmth or pride the sight usually afforded. The empty buildings were tombs, and the light in the tower was a judging eye that glared into my soul.
We tied the boat up at the dock, and began to ascend the long ramp to the station proper. Halfway up, I halted. Adams didn't notice until he was a couple of meters ahead of me. He stopped, and looked back.
"I guess... someone had better mop the engine room," I said, unable to meet his gaze.
"I'll do it," Adams said. "You have a weather report in a few minutes."
"Adams..." I gathered my courage. "What if we were wrong?"
For a long moment, he stared at me, then turned and continued up the ramp.
I followed behind. He reached the top before I did, and froze. Lost in thought, I did not notice this at first, but when I caught up and stood beside him, and looked out upon the concrete landing at the station's centre, I did the same.
I beheld a white horse. It had wings, folded at its sides. There was a single long horn on its forehead. It wore a golden crown.
"Salutations," it said in a woman's voice. "Do not be frightened. I'm looking for my student."
Finis