Fleetfoot shuffled the field test results and glanced across her desk at the... “recruit.” He was perched on the back of his allotted chair, his wings folded to avoid catching the weak ripples from the papers and launching their owner across the room. Not that he seemed to mind, judging by the bright smile on his tiny face. He’d been sporting that starstruck grin ever since he flittered in, openly giddy to be in the presence of a real Wonderbolt. And not just any Wonderbolt; the one who had the final say in whether he’d be the first Breezie to be accepted into the world famous stunt team. He was certainly the first to apply.
Fleetfoot’s sympathetic heart lurched as she looked away from that huge hopeful smile and shuffled the test result papers again. Anything to delay her inevitable bad news for the bright-eyed Breezie. Unfortunately, he wasn’t one to let her stalling go on forever.
”How was my score on the History portion of the exam? Good indeed?”
Fleetfoot prepared her best authority voice as she moved a paper aside to check the Breezie’s results.
“You gawt... ahem! You got a perfect score on Wonderbolt history, culture, and disciplinary expectations. That’s tied with the current record holder: Rainbow Dash herself.”
”Pride is not a Breezie virtue, but I partake in it now, I do indeed.”
“Mm-hm. Your Ponish is very good, by the way.”
The Breezie gave an exaggerated curtsy, obviously attempting to hide his reddening face.
”Studied the language most hard before coming here. Your Ponish is clear too. Sorry for bluntness, but indeed I had believed you lisped.”
Now it was Fleetfoot’s turn to redden.
“I did for most of my life, yes. Til I found out speech therapy was covered under my health plan. You... really researched everything there is to know about the Wonderbolts, didn’t you?”
”Spitfire’s favorite underwear brand is Yakyakistan Silk to stop flight suit chafing.”
“I... didn’t need to know that.”
”She said so indeed. Conversation was overheard by a tabloid publisher.”
“Like... like I said, you’re a very thorough fan.”
”Soarin has low blood sugar, Suprise is one quarter of a quarter Earth Pony, a dragoness named Smolder is the only featherless applicant in all of Wonderbolt history...”
“That’s enough, recruit. Really.”
”One more. One more, please.”
Fleetfoot was not a pushover, especially when dealing with applicants, but the Breezie’s eyes were shining brighter than a pair of rainbooms. The least she could do was let him have his moment before she sent him home.
“Alright, one more.”
”One more. The Academy is haunted by the daughter ghost of an old Grand Marshal.”
Fleetfoot’s heart quickened. Stock Image was one of the academy’s best kept secrets, and had been for over a dozen moons.
”Miss Fluttershy told me of her when last visited. Will never tell, though. If did, it would be not special to know anymore.”
“Very uh, disciplined of you, recruit.”
”Discipline is indeed an important Wonderbolt virtue!”
“Right. Speaking of which, I guess I should go over your field test results now.”
The Breezie’s energetic nodding made Fleetfoot’s heart lurch again, but like they’d just agreed: discipline was a Wonderbolt virtue. She sighed and spread out the pages on her desk.
“Your lap time in the test track was... a little over nine hours.”
”Yes indeed. Breezie world record!”
“Right. But the minimum qualifying time is three minutes and thirty seconds.”
The Breezie’s eyes wavered slightly.
”Not all tests need passed to qualify,” he reminded Fleetfoot quietly, and with more of a wobble to his voice than he probably meant to allow.
“Right. Recruits are allowed one exam waiver before being barred entry. But your Dizzatron Recovery time doesn’t even have a number marking. It just says “excessive.”
”I... I righted myself immediately after launch.”
“Yes, but said launch also catapulted you out of the training grounds. It took you an estimated three days to fly back to the academy and land on the target that stops the test timer. And even then your weight wasn’t enough to trigger the pressure pad. The groundskeeper found you that Monday passed out next to the still-running clock.”
“Was tired from long weekend of flight. Does endurance count for nothing?”
“I’m afraid not, recruit. Even if we threw out the Dizzatron results, you couldn’t even perform the flag gathering exercise.”
“I lifted each flag with magic,” the Breezie argued half-heartedly as he flashed his antennae weakly to demonstrate.
“Yes, but you only had the strength to carry each of the eight flags back one by one. The course is structured for them to be gathered in succession then brought back all at once.”
The Breezie looked up at Fleetfoot, feeling even smaller than he looked.
”So I am not to be a Wonderbolt.”
Rip it off fast like a bandaid, Fleet. You’ve rejected recruits before. This is just another one.
“I’m afraid not, Redcap. Believe me, I don’t enjoy failing you, but this team only accepts the best fliers in Equestria. Most ponies don’t get accepted. And you... look, all the determination in the world doesn’t make up for-“
”No need for babbles,” Redcap cut in firmly. “I am no child who needs his feelings spared.”
Fleetfoot wasn’t sure how to answer.
“But I am indeed the first Breezie to apply for Wonderbolts, yes?“ Redcap’s starry naïveté was completely gone and replaced by steely professionalism. To say Fleetfoot was caught off guard would be an understatement, but she recomposed herself.
“You are, yes. The first and so far only.”
”And academy records will log me as such?”
“They will. We log every applicant who flies through our door-“
”Then I am victorious!”
Redcap’s exalt was so joyous that Fleetfoot actually flinched. Then she flinched again when Redcap sprung from his perch to her face and delivered a kiss to her cheek.
”I am Wonderbolt trivia now like Spitfire, like Smolder, like Stock Image. Yes indeed. Yes indeed! Vilken glad dag!“
Never in Fleetfoot’s entire career had she seen a rejected recruit so rapturously proud of themselves.
“You’re a real trooper, Redcap. I can’t salute you as a fellow Wonderbolt, but I can certainly salute you as a fellow athlete. Fly high, wing pony.”
Fleetfoot tapped her left shoulder with her right hoof, as was the customary Equestrian Military gesture. She expected Redcap to return the salute, but instead his eyes just brightened to nearly supernatural levels before they rolled back and he fainted. She managed to catch his wispy body on her outstretched wing as it drifted downwards, then pushed back from her desk to begin searching for somewhere safe to house Redcap til his senses returned. She eventually settled on her freshly cleaned and pressed uniform that was folded on a shelf in the corner. Doubtful that Redcap would object to such a makeshift bed. Fleetfoot leaned back to give the softly breathing Breezie some rest and regarded her uniform for a moment. Her starchy, often antagonistic uniform.
“Yakyakistan Silk underwear to prevent chafing, huh? I might actually end up looking into that. Thanks for your contribution, recruit.”