//------------------------------// // The Canter 300 // Story: Wings of Ascension // by Zontan //------------------------------// Rainbow arrived at the arena early the next day, a bundle of nervous energy wrapped up in a gray hoodie. Her gaze quickly swept across the massive main entrance and the excited crowd, taking it all in but not feeling like a part of it. It wasn’t the entrance she wanted to be standing at, but it was the only one that wasn’t guarded. She stepped into the line for pegasi and earth ponies, and after an interminable wait she was finally at one of the automated entrance gates. She scanned the screen in front of her, and selected the option at the very bottom: GENERAL ADMISSION: STANDING ROOM ONLY - 45 BITS. She gulped, her hoof hovering anxiously just out of range of the scanner. That was as much as she made in two weeks, and most of her savings. If this didn’t work, she’d be hard pressed to make rent this month. It’s going to work, she told herself fiercely. First prize is ten thousand bits. Win this, and you’ll never have to worry about money again. With that settled, she pressed her metal hoof up to the scanner. There was a beep, TRANSACTION APPROVED appeared briefly on the screen, and the gate in front of her slid open. Rainbow slipped into the crowd on the other side, most of them making a beeline towards the stands to make sure they got good spots. Rainbow, on the other hoof, drifted towards the wall, anxiously looking around before ducking into a side corridor. Inset into the wall was a heavy door, marked with big block letters: RESTRICTED ACCESS. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.  Rainbow held up her hoof, and a slot opened in the side. A small ID card slipped out, a mechanical gripper holding it flat against the frog of her hoof. She pressed it to the door’s scanner. “Come on come on come on,” she muttered, and then there was a beep and the door slid open. “Yes!” she hissed, ducking inside. A flick of her hoof retracted the stolen ID, and after another moment she had projected a map of the area in front of her. It took her a second to find her location, and the path through the service areas to the waiting room where the racers would be gathering. But once she had, she crept forward cautiously, her heart hammering in her chest. This was the most dangerous part of the plan. If she ran into another employee in here, she had no way to explain her presence. After a nerve-wracking few minutes, she reached another door. She hadn’t run into anyone. Everything was going to be fine. She lowered her hood, and Tank poked his head up out of it, green eyes scanning the room they were in. Rainbow reached into a pocket and pulled out a visor, affixing it behind her ears and setting the eyepiece into place over one eye. Without an ocular implant like Fluttershy had, this was the best she could do. “Alright,” she muttered, twisting around to look at Tank. “Time to see what you can do.” The tortoise nodded, floating up out of her hood on silent propellers, and extended a cable out from his shell, hooking it into a port on Rainbow’s visor. A moment later, the connection had been established, and the cable withdrew. Immediately, readouts appeared on Rainbow’s HUD. BPM, blood pressure, body heat, and more. At the bottom, a simple line of SUMMARY: HEALTHY told her all she really needed to know. “Cool,” she breathed. She shrugged her way out of the hoodie, stretching her wings and then stuffing the garment into a corner. She didn’t need it anymore, and she likely wouldn’t be coming back for it anyway. Beneath, she wore a sleek racing suit, a blue that matched her fur, with her personal insignia on the shoulder—a three-colored lightning bolt jutting out of a cloud. The rest of the suit was plain, so long as she lacked sponsorships. She stepped up to the door, pressing an ear against it to make sure there was nopony on the other side. Hearing nothing, she opened it and stepped through. Finally, she was where she was meant to be—the part of the stadium set aside for the actual racers. Her heart thrilled at the thought. She was finally, really here. She looked in both directions, and was about to pull up the map again when it simply appeared in her vision. It rotated as she turned, maintaining the correct orientation, and her position on it was marked, along with a dotted line that led to the waiting room. “Sweet,” Rainbow murmured. It was only a few moments before Rainbow stepped through the doorway, Tank floating close behind. The waiting room was more of a lounge than anything else. Couches dotted the room, and there were several tables full of food and drinks. Other racers milled around, some talking or eating, others doing pre-flight stretches. Rainbow recognized most of them only from videos. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Rainbow Crash.” Rainbow recognized the voice immediately, but even if she hadn’t, a summary of Spitfire’s public bio had already appeared on her visor. She turned, resisting the urge to flee. “Spitfire,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. Spitfire smirked at her, flanked by a few other Wonderbolts. All of them wore ocular implants, and several—including Spitfire—sported state-of-the-art fiberglass wings, lighter and stronger than anything flesh and blood. Spitfire’s racing suit showed her stylized flame insignia prominently, and was covered in other logos, interspersed between the racing stripes that flowed down her neck, along her back, and then up to the tips of her wings. It was a striking effect that made the suit seem to be a part of her, instead of just an outfit. “I thought you flunked the qualifiers,” Spitfire continued, eliciting a laugh from her lackeys. Rainbow flushed. “Well, you thought wrong!” she shot back hotly. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “So you are.” She shrugged. “So long as you stay out of the way of the real racers, I suppose if you want to embarrass yourself in front of thousands of ponies, I’m not going to stop you.” Rainbow let out a rumbling growl before she even realized she was doing it. “I am a real racer!” she protested. “And I’ll prove it when I win this whole thing!” That got another burst of laughter from the Wonderbolts, loud enough that several other ponies in the room took note of the conversation, watching and murmuring to each other. Rainbow tried to ignore them. Spitfire soon recovered from her mirth. “You, win? Rookies don’t win the Canter 300. They fill out the ranks and hope to look pretty enough to get a sponsor. And you definitely won’t manage that if you crash and burn trying to win.” She took a step closer, putting a hoof right in Rainbow’s face. “And let me be very clear. If you come anywhere near me while we’re in the air, I will shut you down so hard you won’t fly straight for a week. Got it?” Rainbow gulped, and couldn’t find the words to respond. Spitfire took that as assent, lowering her hoof and stepping away. Her gaze flicked briefly over Rainbow’s shoulder, and as she turned she added, “And that goes double for your pet rock.” And then she was gone, and Rainbow didn’t have anything clever to say in her wake. Rainbow spent an uncomfortable amount of time in the corner of the lounge, avoiding eye contact with everypony there. Her mind was crowded with doubts, her confidence shaken by her encounter with Spitfire. What if the Wonderbolt was right, and she had no chance? What if she proved to everyone that the qualifiers weren’t a fluke, and she didn’t deserve to be here? What if she failed? She was interrupted from her thoughts by a blinking alert in the corner of her HUD. As soon as she flicked her gaze to it, a message began scrolling across her vision, adjusting automatically to her reading speed. ANALYSIS OF COMPETITION COMPLETE. COMPETITORS HAVE MORE EXPERIENCE, STRONGER WINGS, AND ADVANCED EQUIPMENT. MANY ALSO SHOW SIGNS OF PERFORMANCE-ENHANCING DRUGS. YOU WILL Rainbow stopped reading. “What!” she hissed, quickly lowering her voice to a whisper as a nearby pony looked at her. “That’s against the rules. Shouldn’t they be disqualified?” MY ANALYSIS IS INSUFFICIENT PROOF OF WRONGDOING. NOR IS IT LIKELY THAT RACE OFFICIALS WOULD LISTEN TO YOUR TESTIMONY, GIVEN YOUR STATUS AS AN ILLEGAL PARTICIPANT. “...good point,” Rainbow muttered. YOU WILL NEED TO LEVERAGE CONSIDERABLE TACTICS TO SUCCEED IN THIS VENTURE. HOWEVER, BETWEEN YOUR RAW TALENT AND MY SUPERIORITY TO OTHER FAMILIARS PRESENT, I BELIEVE THERE IS A REAL POSSIBILITY OF FINISHING IN THE TOP TWENTY PERCENT OF COMPETITORS. Rainbow did some quick math. If there were thirty racers… “Sixth?” she whispered under her breath. “You think that the best I can do is sixth?” SIXTH IS AN IMPRESSIVE FINISH FOR A ROOKIE WITH NO PRIOR MAJOR LEAGUE RACES. THE HIGHEST A ROOKIE HAS EVER PLACED IN THIS COMPETITION IS THIRD. BASED ON PREVIOUS TRENDS, ANY ROOKIE FINISHING IN THE TOP HALF OF COMPETITORS IS VERY LIKELY TO ATTRACT SPONSORSHIP. Rainbow sighed softly. “Well… I guess the prize for sixth isn’t half bad,” she grumbled. YOU ARE HIGHLY UNLIKELY TO RECEIVE ANY PRIZE MONEY. “What.” YOU ARE NOT REGISTERED. EVEN IN THE EVENT THAT YOU FINISH THE RACE AND ARE NOT IMMEDIATELY ARRESTED FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION, YOU ARE NOT ELIGIBLE FOR ANY PRIZES. Rainbow sat down, hard. In retrospect, it seemed obvious, but some part of her had been convinced if she just showed everypony how good she was, it wouldn’t matter. “But… I needed…” she trailed off, sitting stunned for a moment before her face hardened with new resolve. “No. Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m here, and I’m going to race, and I’m going to be awesome, and even if they arrest me it’s all everypony will be talking about.” THAT’S THE SPIRIT. Further conversation was interrupted by an announcement blaring into the room. “Racers, to the starting line. Repeat, racers to the starting line. The race begins in ten minutes.” Rainbow stood up, stretched her wings, and cracked her neck. It was go time. Rainbow kept to the back of the pack as the assembled pegasi stepped out into the arena. As she crossed the threshold, the sounds of the audience hit her like a physical thing. Thousands of ponies, cheering their hearts out. Cheering for her. The thought made her tremble, heart beating in her ears, but she pushed forward anyway. Thoughts of what would happen if she burned out battled for dominance in her head with the idea of the idolization she would receive if she did well. She took a moment to gawk at the arena as she walked. She’d seen videos of races held here, of course, but she’d never been inside it. It was massive, so big that the ponies on the other end of the stands were nothing but multicolored blurs. The starting line was clearly marked nearby, but that was about all that was clear - the building was many stories tall, and the entire airspace was strewn with walls, tunnels, and obstacles of all sorts.  The configuration of the arena changed with every race, and the colored rings telling the racers what path to take wouldn’t appear until the race began. Mapping out the turns and determining flight lines had to be done on the fly, and processing the necessary information at speed was what racing familiars were for. Rainbow hoped Tank would be up to the task. The racers took their starting marks, and now Rainbow was glad she had hung back. There were thirty marks, each one emblazoned with a digital image of that racer’s insignia on the ground, and a floating, holographic readout of that racer’s name, age, and notable accomplishments above their head. Rainbow didn’t have a mark. She froze in place, watching as the slots filled up. Soon, there would be none left, and it would be patently obvious to everyone that she didn’t belong. “What do I do?” she hissed at Tank in a panicked whisper. ONE MOMENT. Tank floated up above her head, surveyed the situation, and then flew to where a thirty-first mark would be, if the pattern continued. A tiny projector emerged from his shell, and in a moment her insignia was on the ground, along with a floating biography, just like all the other racers. YOUR MARK. Rainbow stepped hesitantly into place, fidgeting nervously. A few of the nearby racers were looking at her oddly—even with Tank’s projection, it was clear something was amiss. Fortunately, all the racers at the back were fellow rookies, and they didn’t say anything to object. Spitfire was way up front in pole position, and had eyes only for the race in front of her. For once, Rainbow was glad for the lack of attention. As the timer to the start of the race ticked down, the nearby racers shrugged off the oddity of her placement. The roar of the crowd washed over Rainbow, and she found herself relaxing, nervousness being replaced with adrenaline. A thrill of pride ran through her as she looked up at her profile floating over her head, as she scanned the nearest spectators and saw them looking at her as they stamped and screamed. The announcer said something, but the speakers were pointed at the crowd and Rainbow couldn’t hear it. Before them, a holographic screen counted down the last thirty seconds to the start of the race. Rainbow stretched her wings, lowering her stance and bracing against the ground, ready to push off. Ten seconds. The walls in front of them lit up in neon colors, and the first ring appeared, more following behind it. Almost immediately, several paths through them appeared in her visor, color-coded by level of risk. Five seconds. The screen faded away, leaving just the flashing number, counting down. Three. Two. One. With a blaring horn and the crack of dozens of wings moving at once, they were off. Immediately, there was chaos. The Wonderbolts in the front pulled smoothly ahead, falling into formation in Spitfire’s slipstream. Behind them, the rookies all fought to be in front at once in a maelstrom of flailing limbs. Alerts appeared across Rainbow’s vision, warning her of incoming collisions before she could see them. No longer was Tank sending her long, written messages—she didn’t have time for them. Instead, her HUD was filled with icons showing incoming threats, pointing out holes that she could slip through, and of course, the ever-adjusting ideal line to follow to hit the next ring. By the time she’d made it out of the whirl of feathers and hooves, the competitors had been strung out along the path of the race. Rainbow couldn’t even see the Wonderbolts anymore, and more than a few rookies had missed a ring in the initial confusion and been forced to backtrack. She felt the beginnings of a bruise forming on her barrel where somepony had kicked her in the confusion, but she ignored it. Instead, she focused on the line of ponies in front of her, straining her wings as she slowly gained on them. PACE YOURSELF.  The short message caught her eye, and with a start, she realized she no longer knew where Tank was. He hadn’t been hurt in that mess, had he? “Tank?” she called, not even sure if he could hear her. “Where are you, buddy?” I AM FINE. I CAN MONITOR YOU FROM ANYWHERE. I CAN DO MORE IF NOT FOLLOWING YOU DIRECTLY. Rainbow nodded, pushing forward again. She took a tight turn, following the red line in her HUD, her wing barely touching the edge of the holographic ring as she passed through it. She was focused on the pony in front of her, a lilac mare with a pale green mane and an insignia of a trio of dragonflies. She was about to surge past the other mare when another message popped up. USE HER SLIPSTREAM. Rainbow slowed momentarily. “I can pass her,” she hissed. SHE IS STRAINING TO MAINTAIN SPEED. USE HER EFFORT TO CONSERVE YOURS. WHEN SHE FALTERS, PASS HER. Rainbow hesitated, then nodded, falling into place behind the other mare. This close, Rainbow could see a tiny mechanical insect nestled in the mare’s mane, no doubt a cheap familiar. It had clearly seen her approach, because the other mare suddenly swerved to the side, trying to shake Rainbow off. The line in Rainbow’s vision adjusted itself before she even moved, anticipating it, and Rainbow smirked, adjusting easily. The other mare made only a few more attempts before realizing it was pointless.  When she began to slow, Rainbow slipped easily past her. She almost felt bad for the other racer. Almost. But she still had a race to win. “Where’s Spitfire?” she hissed under her breath as she took the next turn. As she came out of it, she spotted a cluster of three more racers jockeying for position ahead of her. To her surprise, one of them was a Wonderbolt. Rainbow even recognized her—a white mare with a tornado insignia named High Winds. “I thought all the Wonderbolts were flying together,” she muttered. THERE IS A GROUP OF SEVEN WONDERBOLTS AT THE FRONT OF THE PACK, WORKING TOGETHER. THOSE THAT COULD NOT KEEP UP, EVEN WHILE CYCLING LEADERS, WERE LEFT BEHIND. THEY ARE LESS THAN A MINUTE AHEAD OF YOU, BUT THEIR LEAD IS INCREASING. “Damnit,” Rainbow muttered, redoubling her speed. Her wings were already starting to ache, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She could go faster, and she needed to go faster, if she was still losing ground. One of the readouts in her visor tracked her current position—18th. Not good enough. A series of three rings traced a wide circle ahead of her, and just beyond them, a fourth lay directly on the entrance to a narrow, twisting tunnel. There would be no passing in there—it would be difficult enough to navigate without clipping a wing. She dipped one wing, watching the travel lines curve ahead of her, arcing wide around the group in front of her. There was no way she’d pass them that way.  WHAT ARE Rainbow didn’t read the rest of the message as she pumped her wings and angled herself for the very innermost edge of the rings, ignoring the guidelines. There wasn’t much room, but the trio in front weren’t quite touching the edges. She could make it. She swooped up, then twisted her body and folded her wings flat against her flanks, turning into a streamlined bullet as she reached the group. The rookies scattered, spooked at her approach, and she slipped past them. High Winds was made of sterner stuff. She kept to her line, and sped up, pushing to hit the tunnel ahead of Rainbow. Rainbow cursed under her breath as her trajectory began to drop too low and she still hadn’t passed the Wonderbolt. She opened her wings again, racing desperately for the tunnel entrance, one wing just clipping the final ring of the curve. The tunnel lay just ahead, and she was gaining— There was a jarring clack as the two pegasi’s wings collided, and Rainbow gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her, pushing forward even as High Winds wobbled off course. Suddenly she was bathed in darkness as she passed the lip of the tunnel. A split second later there was a wet thump and a crack as High Winds hit the edge of the tunnel at full speed. She careened into the tunnel floor, and then slipped out the mouth like so much dead weight. THAT WAS INCREDIBLY FOOLISH. “It worked, didn’t it?” Rainbow panted, adrenaline coursing through her. A moment later it was joined by a pang of guilt, and she added softly, “She’s gonna be okay, right?” THE SAFETY NETS CAUGHT HER. SHE APPEARS TO BE BREATHING, BUT UNCONSCIOUS. Rainbow took a shaky breath. “Good. That’s good.”  THAT COULD HAVE JUST AS EASILY BEEN YOU. “But it wasn’t, and I’m fine,” Rainbow snapped. She turned with the tunnel, following the thin stripe of light above her. The space was cramped enough that she had slowed down by necessity, and it gave her some much-needed breathing room. But soon a light began to grow brighter in front of her, and she sped up again in preparation for returning to the open air. YOUR RECKLESSNESS COULD VERY EASILY LEAD The tunnel ended. “Whoa!” Rainbow yelped, abruptly pulling up as a wall loomed in front of her. A ring was just beyond it, followed immediately by another wall. She hit the ring and dived under the barrier, before swerving quickly to avoid the next one. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ethereal lines of the safety nets below her, cradling the form of another pegasus, surrounded by several medics. Abruptly, her position ticked from 15th place to 14th. Guess they didn’t dodge fast enough. She shuddered. The high-speed crashes and narrow squeezes had seemed so much more exciting when she was watching at home or at the bar. The camera never focused on fallen racers for long. She didn’t have time to dwell on it. The next set of rings was approaching, and with it, more racers. She fell into a rhythm, straining her wings to catch up to other competitors, drafting behind them when the course was clear to rest her wings, and then passing them in tight curves where her natural agility gave her an advantage.  By the time she finished the first lap, she had moved up to tenth place. Her muscles were sore, and she’d picked up another bruise, but the race was halfway over, and the track held no more surprises. She could do this.  Her confidence was short-lived. It was as she passed the starting line and the entrance to the arena that she saw the officers. There were a half-dozen of them, mostly earth ponies, looking menacing in their steel blue armor. They were speaking to a pegasus wearing a uniform with the arena’s logo on it, and just as Rainbow was hoping their presence might be unrelated, the pegasus pointed directly at her as she sped past. “We’ve got trouble,” she muttered under her breath. THE OFFICERS? YES, I AM AWARE. I AM WORKING ON A SOLUTION. “What? When were you going to tell me about this?” IT WOULD NOT HAVE HELPED YOUR MENTAL STATE. YOU NEED TO FOCUS ON THE RACE. I WILL HAVE AN ESCAPE ROUTE READY WHEN YOU ARE DONE. “You’re sure?” Rainbow took one last glance back at the police ponies before she went around a turn and lost sight of them. She hadn’t really believed anyone would actually try to arrest her. After all, it wasn’t like she was hurting anypony. But now that the police were here, it suddenly felt real. WORRYING ABOUT IT WILL NOT HELP YOUR PERFORMANCE. I WILL HANDLE IT. YOUR JOB IS TO WIN THE RACE. “Thought you said I couldn’t win.” DO IT ANYWAY. Rainbow grinned. That was a sentiment she could get behind. She redoubled her wingbeats, ignoring her burning lungs and the sheen of sweat that coated her fur. She could see a pair of racers ahead of her—one was a gray stallion she vaguely recognized from the qualifier, and the other she immediately placed as Fire Streak, a Wonderbolt veteran. It quickly became clear that the Wonderbolt was spending most of his effort running interference on the rookie, and the reason was obvious: Rainbow could see the precise V formation of the frontrunning Wonderbolts only a few turns ahead of them, and Fire Streak was making sure no one came too close. Even with the two of them trying to outposition each other, they were still blazingly fast, hitting turns and avoiding obstacles with fluid movements. It took all Rainbow had just to catch up to them, and her breath came in laboured gasps by the time she did. Fire Streak moved smoothly to block her passage as well, and for the moment, Rainbow was happy to let him, sliding into his slipstream and trying to catch her breath. Racing had never been this hard before. Growing up, she’d casually outstripped her peers without ever having to try. She’d won every competition she had ever entered, and had assumed that would never change. The Canter 300 qualifier had been her first rude awakening. She hadn’t put in the effort, she hadn’t been prepared, and she had been brutally crushed. Even now that she was here and trying her hardest, she was struggling just to keep up. Passing these two and catching up to Spitfire and the other Wonderbolts seemed impossible. For the first time, the thought that Tank had been optimistic entered her head. Perhaps tenth place was all she could manage. Rookies finishing in the top half are very likely to receive sponsorship. Tenth was a fine finish for a first-timer. No one would expect more from her. YOU CAN DO IT. Rainbow’s gaze flicked to the message, a soft smile appearing on her face. She was about to respond, when the message was replaced by a flood of pictures. Ponies of all stripes, from every tribe, with one thing in common: They were in the stands, watching her. A group of cheering fillies, trying to keep up with her movements with analog binoculars. Fluttershy, braving the world outside her workshop, surrounded by her creations, each with a video feed from a different angle. A beautiful white unicorn watching a crisp high definition video from a VIP booth, her expression thoughtful. Warmth flooded through her. The stream of images continued, of ponies cheering her on, or whispering to their friends about this mysterious competitor that wasn’t on the list of racers. She had fans, watching her right now, wishing for her to succeed. Wanting to see her triumph. She forgot about her burning lungs and aching body. She pulled new resolve from somewhere deep inside her, and bolted forward, too fast for Fire Streak to react. Suddenly she was in front of him, and she heard a startled exclamation that was carried off by the wind as he sped up to catch her.  They left the gray stallion behind as they closed in on the Wonderbolt formation. It was a well-oiled machine, taking the course easily without ever letting their lines slip. For these Wonderbolts, this race wasn’t a competition—it was an exhibition of their skills. They were here to show off, and it worked. Watching that flawless precision was what made Rainbow want to race. It was what had gotten her here. It was why she wanted so desperately to impress them. And now she was so close. She could hear the beating of their wings over the rushing of the wind, see individual feathers and beads of sweat on their flanks. She could reach them, take a place in their formation, fly with them for real. No one could say she wasn’t a racer then. One more turn, and she was there. She felt the sudden change in pressure as she slid into place behind Misty Fly. For one brief, shining moment, she was part of their formation.  Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. The Wonderbolts scattered, breaking formation in the span of a blink. The slipstream was gone, and there was a flurry of feathers as suddenly she was right in the middle of them. She tried to adjust, to find her line— Ice shot through her. Her vision went white, and in a flash the ice in her belly turned into searing pain. Warnings flashed in her HUD, but she couldn’t read them. Her entire left side was on fire, and her wings weren’t beating in time anymore. She had to turn, she had to hit the next ring, she had to— The flight lines in her visor slid up, and she fell away, missing the ring as blood flowed freely from the gash in her flank.