//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 // Story: Fine Print // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Tracy wasn’t sure what he was expecting from “flying night school.” A dingy community college somewhere, with ceiling tiles missing and flickering fluorescent lights. People would rush in from multiple shifts, and drag themselves back home again.  But either Equestria didn’t have anything like that, or their capital wasn’t the place to find it. Rose escorted him to the side of a building high in the city, near the oversized castle and other government buildings.  He slowed as they approached, steps coming nervously as the castle came into view. Not even in photos of ancient medieval fortresses had he ever seen anything quite like it. “What kind of foundation do you use to hold up all this weight?” he asked, lowering his voice. “The amount of sheer stress that stone must be putting on the mountain.” Rose stared blankly back at him for a few seconds. He should probably learn to read what those pony gestures meant, because it seemed like exasperation. Maybe she was just confused about why he cared? “I have no idea what you’re asking,” she said. “It’s an amazing castle though, isn’t it? When Celestia rebuilt, they really spared no expense.” He nodded. “I know some engineers back home who would love to see the blueprints. Whatever you did with the foundations must be magical.” “Probably,” Rose agreed. “I don’t know anything about construction magic, or lots of other kinds. I think they had a team of earth pony engineers on the renovations after the invasion. Not sure how they built it before that.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The princesses get real cagey about history questions. Everypony knows how old they are, but they mostly just let historians guess.” She fell silent as a little group of other ponies squeezed past them. Tracy would’ve ignored them completely, except that he recognized them. They were the same creatures he’d seen on the train. Only two had wings, but they were headed for the same building. “You guys going to flight school too?” he asked, spreading his wings nervously. He looked at the older, light blue one, but she wasn’t the one who answered. “I am!” declared an orange-and-purple filly, puffing out her chest. Her voice sounded around thirteen, though guessing pony ages was still a skill he hadn’t mastered. “If Fairweather Campus can’t teach you, nopony can,” the older pony said. “They’ve got a guarantee and everything.” Tracy and Rose followed beside them, walking the rest of the way to the building. “She deserves the best chance. If you’ve never picked up flying either, I’m sure they’ll be able to help you too.” “Guess we’ll be in the same class,” the filly said, her wings buzzing so fast they blurred. But she barely lifted into the air, only a few inches, before dropping back down, panting. “I’m Scootaloo!” “And we’re just here for moral support,” a white unicorn added. “There’s not enough lessons in the world to teach us how to fly.” “Tracy,” he said, waving weakly with a wing. “Guess we should probably get in there, huh?” They got into line, while Rose and the others took benches in the waiting room.  The night school clearly didn’t teach anything else—the walls were lined with photographs of flying ponies, most wearing skin-tight jumpsuits and goggles and doing complex maneuvers.  There were a few aerodynamic diagrams, similar to what he’d read in the one class that had ever covered it in college. So ponies understood lift the same way humans did, that was reassuring. Just so long as they don’t push me off a cliff. The man behind the desk was like something out of a film himself, his mane gray and a jacket covered with military-looking patches.  He took one look at Tracy, eyes narrowing as Tracy pushed the ticket towards him. “I’m uh… new this week,” he said. “Total beginner. This is the flight school, right?” “Total beginner.” The pony leaned forward, his gray wings shifting under the jacket. “Been a long time since we had a bat come this way. Thought you all grew up in caves. How’d you fly up to take my class?” He suppressed a laugh. “There are some old mines near my house I guess, but I wouldn’t say I lived down them. I’ve never needed to fly before. I still don’t need to, but… it feels wrong not to learn while I can.” The stallion snorted, finally taking the voucher and gesturing. “Things are a little different for bats, but the magic all works the same. Just expect to do some extra reading in your spare time. Practice material for bats isn’t as good. And if you wanted to go into the upper aerobatics, forget it right now. Those wings are for stealth, not speed. You won’t get within bucking distance of the rainbow barrier.” Tracy stared, trying to process the words of someone who was at once so curt and incomprehensible at the same time. It probably wasn’t a good idea to admit he didn’t know anything though, or else they might not take him. I hope this class doesn’t have pre-reqs. Maybe I should be focusing more on the real world. “That won’t be a problem,” he said. “I’m just here for the basics.” There were several other students already waiting, so Tracy could swiftly abandon the awkwardness of a class alone with a kid. But while Rose had assured him the class would be for adults, the Equestrian definition of “adult” clearly didn’t match anything he knew.  There was only one other in attendance he guessed might qualify, based on her voice alone. No other bats either, which made him feel a little self-conscious. Had Rose picked the wrong class? He followed the little group into a cramped classroom, uncomfortably warm with the spring sun and an oversized blackboard against one wall.  The other students got to know each other, but Tracy found himself with very little to say. He couldn’t even tell them where he was from, not with the kid here. Scootaloo was actually from there, she’d call out the lie for what it was. They fell silent abruptly as a large figure darkened the doorway. Even Tracy felt suddenly small in her shadow—a black and white creature, with a pointed beak and wickedly-sharp claws. The floor shook slightly as she walked in, oversized wings spread.  “You’re all here for introduction to aeronautics,” she said, stalking to the blackboard. “If you belong somewhere else, now’s your chance not to waste my time. I won’t be tolerating any time-wasting tonight, or any night. My class is here to learn.” None of the horses moved. Tracy’s heart began to race, as he remembered his material science class and another particularly unyielding professor. This is why I’m here, it’s okay if she pushes us. “I’ve got reading for each of you,” she said, banging open a squeaky filing cabinet from against the wall and withdrawing a stack of worn-looking books. “You’ll be taking this home, and bringing it back next week after understanding everything inside.” She began passing them out, pacing between the worn desks. She extended one halfway towards Tracy, then seemed to see his wings and snatched it back. “I’ve got a different one for you, bat. Hold on.” She finished her rounds, then opened a lower drawer and withdrew a single book. This one was much thicker and more technical, instead of the colorful laminate on the others.  That other one did say I’d have to do more reading. “Some of you are probably looking at this classroom feeling disappointed. Aren’t we supposed to be flying? Yes, actually, you are. This is the only session we’ll be having in a classroom. Every week from here on, you’ll be out on the practice ground, or up above it. So if you’re scared of heights, you’ve got exactly one week to get over it before reality crushes that fear.” Ponies wilted at her pronouncement. Tracy couldn’t blame them—with golden eyes and a sharp beak, she looked like something that might be flying up there hunting them. There are multiple intelligent species here. He should’ve known. There were other things in Ponyville that hadn’t looked very much like ponies either. How much more is there to know about this place? Maybe he should go back to that library and see if he could borrow an encyclopedia.  “My name is Giselle,” the instructor said, snatching a piece of chalk off the board and stalking over to it. “We have exactly one session in this classroom, and each of you is going to give me your undivided attention until we’re done. Today’s session begins with definitions. Open your books, we’ll be starting with pitch, roll, and y—” The class went on for a few hours, long enough that Tracy began feeling self-conscious about the pony who had brought him. Ponies didn’t have cell phones, she must be losing her mind out there. It was much the same stuff he’d expect to learn studying for a private pilot’s license back on earth, with only minor changes. The basics of how flight worked, the anatomy of a wing, which movements were meant to produce what result while flying, and a few basic patterns to get started with takeoff and landing. The other half of the class was basically driving school all over again, with a crash course in Equestrian air-travel laws. Which areas were off-limits, how to recognize unsafe air, not landing on people’s houses. All fairly self-explanatory, even if his own world had no reason for such detailed regulation of something people couldn’t do. Compared to his senior year, Tracy had no trouble focusing. It was just the one class, the last he’d have to do before their future sessions were practical instruction. He could sit through that, even if the book they gave him had nothing in common with what the others were reading. “You, bat,” Giselle said, when the other students were filing out. He was one of the last, partially because he was up against the wall. Partially because he was afraid Rose might’ve gotten bored and gone home, stranding him forever in an alien world he didn’t understand. “Study that whole thing between now and next week. I’ve flown with a few of you before, and the rules aren’t that different… but they are different. You’ll need to refer to what other thestrals have come up with during drills, rather than what works for a pegasus. Know it back-to-front.” Tracy looked down at the book, so heavy it had doubled the weight of his satchel by itself. About the size of a college textbook, in fact. “Okay,” he said, worry rising. The demand made sense, but actually keeping the instruction would be much harder. How the hell would he find the time? “Good,” she went on. “Second week won’t be that hard, but third we do the cliff-jump. I don’t want to be cleaning one of you off the rocks, got it?” He nodded, hurrying out the door behind the other students. Has that happened before? Rose was the last pony left in the waiting room—even that gruff-looking older stallion was gone from the office. She was a little bleary-eyed, her mane disheveled. Maybe she’d been napping. “You lived,” she said. “Wasn’t sure how it would turn out.” “Stop it. Though I feel bad you came all this way. If I have to do a few months of this, you’ll go insane with boredom.” She shrugged. “Was just waiting the first time. Once I’m sure you aren’t going to burn anything down, you can probably make the trip yourself. Or maybe I’ll visit friends in the city.” She gestured urgently for the doorway. “We can’t miss the evening express back to Ponyville, though. You lived, but Lily and Daisy on their own with your magic? I hope they didn’t burn down the flower stand.” “It’s just a tablet,” he countered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”