Chapter 1: A Well-Kept Secret
10:22 AM
May 15th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Though the thermostat read a comfortable 70 degrees, Rainbow Dash was sweating through her practice uniform. It was not as lightweight or breathable as the official Wonderbolts performance regalia, but it was not nearly heavy enough to cause a pony in peak physical condition to perspire.
She glanced at the clock again. Less than a minute had passed since she last looked at it. She groaned and buried her face in her hooves. For a pegasus of such incredible speed, one of life’s greatest challenges was staying still. The only thing keeping her from bursting through the cloud ceiling and taking to the sky was the fear of missing the news for which she so desperately waited.
---
8:45 AM
March 13th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
A blue envelope sealed with a winged lightning bolt changed her life. Until that point, she had always seen the Wonderbolts as a far-off dream, something she would achieve on the painfully unspecific date of “someday.” When her trembling hooves opened that letter, however, it was thrust to the forefront of her consciousness. This was real – this was actually happening. The Wonderbolts had seen fit to request her presence at an “evaluation” in Cloudsdale. She remembered reading and rereading the letter in disbelief. She also remembered waking up shortly afterwards to a wall-eyed mailmare nervously prodding her.
She managed to talk her way out of weather duty until after the evaluation. The regional manager, a big Wonderbolts fan himself, gave her a sixty-day leave on the condition that should she not make the team, she would not take any vacation days for six months. Such a steep price would have normally drawn the famously competitive (and famously lazy) mare into a heated argument, but she was too star-struck to care. She had given him an overenthusiastic hug, squealed, and flew out the door.
For five weeks, she trained hard all day and slept soundly all night. She ate four meals a day simply to keep her performance-tuned body fueled. Her mornings were sore, her days were sweaty, and her evenings were exhausted. The only breaks she took were her weekly massages at the spa, as per Twilight Sparkle’s suggestion. Rainbow Dash had initially reacted with equal parts horror and contempt until Twilight showed her the source of the suggestion – The Wonderbolts’ Guide to Exercise and Nutrition. It recommended regular deep tissue massages during periods of heavy training to enhance flexibility, reduce soreness, and mitigate the risk of wing muscle injury.
Time passed quickly for Rainbow Dash. The hours melted into days, which stacked up into weeks. Before she knew it, the evaluation was three days away. She was using those last three days for recovery after her brutal training stint. Most pegasi would need at least a week to fully recover from such rigorous flying, but Rainbow Dash wasn’t most pegasi. The letter had said there would be two days of in-processing once she reached Cloudsdale, anyway, so she was not particularly worried about it.
On the big day, she flew off to Cloudsdale with great fanfare, thanks to the collaborative effort of Pinkie Pie and Mayor Mare. Her wings were still a little stiff, but the flight to Cloudsdale would loosen them up. Even at her leisurely pace, she made the trip in less than three hours. Most Cloudsdale pegasi used Ponyville as the four-hour landmark for making good time south.
As promised, she had to endure two days of red tape, legalese, consent & liability forms, equipment issue, lodging arrangements, and all other manner of administrative boredom. By the end of the second day, she was starting to believe that there was no evaluation, just three weeks of office work. She still believed that as she laid her head on her pillow that night in the Wonderbolts’ official training facility.
The illusion was broken early the next morning. Half a dozen pegasi in flight instructor uniforms burst into her room, screaming at her to get up and get moving! Dazed by the rude awakening and sudden bright lights, she fumbled with her practice uniform twice as long as usual while the instructors continued to bellow at her. Frightened within an inch of her life, Rainbow Dash was herded out of her room and into the predawn darkness.
All around her, the scene repeated itself with nearly twenty other stallions and mares. They all wore the same grey coveralls designed to mimic the flight characteristics of the official uniform. This was unexpected – the letter had said nothing about other pegasi being present.
The instructors wasted no time in putting the pegasi to work. They started with calisthenics that continued well past sunrise. One pegasus failed to complete a set of two hundred flutter kicks and was promptly escorted from the field by two instructors.
As the day wore on, the workouts changed. Some were speed challenges. Some were endurance races. Strength tests. Obstacle courses, with and without wings. More calisthenics. Weighted flights. Hoof runs. Weighted freefall stops. On and on, seemingly without end.
By the end of the day, Rainbow Dash was seeing stars. She had never worked herself this hard before. Six other pegasi had dropped out since morning, bringing the total number of recruits down to fourteen. The instructors dismissed them, allowing the exhausted trainees to shuffle back to their rooms for a quick shower before passing out on their beds.
The next day was no different. Her wake-up call arrived at exactly 4:30 AM in the same manner as the previous day. She was a little more adept at putting on her practice uniform, but her soreness and stiffness made it a painful ordeal. Outside, the winces on the other ponies’ faces made it clear that she was not alone in her suffering.
Workouts commenced. The day started with sprints around the cloud track. Just when they thought that particular workout was done, though, the instructors tacked on five extra laps. Once those were over, they brought out wing weights and made the trainees repeat the sprints.
The mind games continued throughout the morning. Sometimes an exercise would be extended, other times the instructors would cut it short and dive directly into the next one. By the time lunch came around, everypony was expecting to be dragged away halfway through their meal. The instructors, satisfied that they had gotten into the trainees’ heads, enjoyed an extra long break. The grey-clad recruits were left to stew in apprehension.
With coordinated precision, the instructors leapt up from their table and continued terrorizing the Wonderbolt hopefuls. The grueling pace was resumed until the end of the day. That evening, twelve trainees returned to their rooms, wings heavy and ears ringing.
Morning arrived with more trainers. Outside, she stood on line next to a teal-maned stallion who had a knack for getting unwanted attention from the instructors. After a particularly bad verbal lashing, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I signed up to be a Wonderbolt, not a Guardspony,” he mumbled. He needed no instructor to escort him off of the field.
Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but share the sentiment. Sure, being a Wonderbolt was never going to be easy, but what did pushups and hoof runs have to do with being a stunt flier? Were there so many elite pegasi that they needed to have something else to thin the herd?
Whatever it was, Dash was determined to see it through. Not just anypony could claim the title of Iron Pony. If she needed to carry a fifty-kilogram weight on her back for seven miles, then that was what she would do. She was going to make it through this. She was going to be a Wonderbolt if it killed her.
Her days became a blur of pain, exhaustion, and shouting. More than once, she considered quitting. The idea always floated at the back of her mind. Occasionally, if the instructors felt they were being too easy on the class, they would taunt the trainees with the idea.
“If you quit now, you can go home to your nice, warm beds,” they would say. “You can go get a massage from a handsome stallion or a gorgeous mare and feel all your pain melt away. We’ll even give you some coffee and donuts for the trip home. Hay, you won’t even need to wing it. We’ll buy you a first-class airship ticket if you leave right now.”
Dash would have been sorely tempted by that offer if there were any stallion masseuses at Aloe and Lotus’ spa. During the few breaks they got, her wings were on fire. Otherwise, they were just numb. Her preparation training might as well have been a two-mile flight at an easy pace for all the good it did her. The thought of her fluffy cloud mattress made her legs tremble. She wanted nothing more than to stop, but she pressed on. Wonderbolts… Wonderbolts… Wonderbolts…
Two weeks into the evaluation, the class had dropped to only six pegasi. Rainbow Dash was on autopilot. Shouting was the only language she understood. Her entire body was numb. She was vaguely aware that she was here for some purpose, although she could hardly fathom it. In her mind, this was her new existence. There were memories of hanging out with a few other ponies, but those could have just been fever dreams. Her home was a small room that opened into a wide dome, and that was the whole world.
As the nineteenth day drew to a close, the instructors shouted something at the ragged group that none of them understood. Rainbow summoned all of her energy to perk up an ear. Since when did those ponies shout quietly?
“…repeat myself… bothered to… tomorrow… leave bed… and meals only. You’re… training. If… problems, hit the… nightstand and the docs… otherwise, we… you again. Is… clear?”
The trainees nodded out of habit. The instructors pointed towards the rooms and the grey-clad pegasi mindlessly shuffled towards them. Rainbow Dash removed her drenched uniform and threw it down the laundry chute. She stood under the shower cloud for a few minutes before drying herself off and collapsing on the bed.
---
Morning
May 13th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Her first clue that something was amiss was the fact that she woke up naturally. She had begun to wake up shortly before the instructors barged into her room simply out of routine, but something still felt… off. There was no clock in her room, so she couldn’t tell the time, but it certainly felt later than four thirty. After ten minutes passed with no instructors, she was certain something was ahoof.
She decided to use this respite to ready her uniform for the day. Silently, she slipped off her bed and opened the drawer in her meager dresser. Slowly reaching inside, she felt around for her coveralls and goggles. Nothing. She began to panic. Where were her uniforms? What was she going to do without a uniform? It had become like a second skin to her. Even though she didn’t normally wear clothes, she felt extra naked without the drab flight suit.
Dash turned her room upside down in search of a spare. Under her bed, in the nightstand, in the bathroom… nothing. No uniforms to be found.
Without thinking, she opened the door to the training facility. What she saw stopped her dead. There were no obstacles. No weights. No observation towers. No megaphones. No blackboards listing calisthenics and repetitions. The facility was devoid of anything except a hoof track on the cloud surface and a flight track halfway up the towering walls.
Her confused stare was broken by a sharp voice from her side.
“Hey, dummy! Get back in your room!”
Rainbow Dash immediately complied. It took her a few seconds to realize the strangeness of the instructor’s command. Instructors don’t tell us to go back into our rooms. They make us get out of our rooms.
Still confused, she returned to her bed, quickly drifting off to sleep.
---
Afternoon
May 13th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
When she awoke again, the first thing on her mind was the pain. Everywhere. It was like the time Applejack had zapped her with the cattle prod except it wouldn’t stop. Every muscle burned. The past three weeks had taken their toll on Dash’s young body.
When she finally mustered the courage to move, she discovered that her legs refused. She could hardly turn her head without pain lancing through her neck. Her wings were a lost cause. Breaths were shallow and ragged. It even hurt to blink. Lying in bed for so long after weeks of grueling workouts had nearly cemented her muscles in place.
In her mental state, however, she couldn’t tell what was wrong, only that there was definitely something wrong. She tried calling for help, but her voice was shot after weeks of replying at the top of her lungs. Panic began to rise in her once more. The instructor outside her room would be able to help, but Dash couldn’t get his attention. She was paralyzed on her bed, overwhelmed by the systemic pain flooding her mind. She was left with one option – pass out.
So she did.
---
Evening
May 13th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
“Ah, so it appears you’re still with us, after all.”
She recognized the voice. Rainbow Dash couldn’t tell where she had heard it before, but she had definitely heard it somewhere. Was it one of her friends? No, it was deeper than most of theirs. Still feminine, but almost… sultry. It had an arrogant flair to it that didn’t fit any of her friends.
Dash opened her eyes and instantly regretted it. The bright yellow coat of the mare facing her was too much. The light in her eyes infuriated the headache raging through her skull. She weakly groaned in response.
“I guess the painkillers haven’t completely kicked in yet.”
Though the voice was maddeningly familiar, it was also painful. Her head rebelled at the noise in her ears, causing her to squirm in discomfort.
A different voice spoke up, this one quiet and completely unfamiliar. “I’ll give her a booster dose, but that’s all I can do.” To Dash’s relief, he added, “I’d also recommend that you speak more softly. She’s probably fighting a splitting headache on top of everything else.”
“Right. I forgot how I felt after evals.”
So the voice belonged to a yellow mare that had gone through the evaluation? That narrowed down the list to a name with which Rainbow Dash was very familiar.
“S-Spitfire?”
“Very good,” she chuckled. “Although I’m not sure whether the fact that you recognize me just by my voice is cute or creepy.”
Dash cautiously opened one eye. The Wonderbolt stood by her bed, smirking down at the incapacitated pegasus. She wasn’t wearing her flight suit or goggles. The only thing identifying her as a member of Equestria’s top flight demonstration team was her presence in the otherwise restricted facility.
“Well, there… there aren’t m-many mares that l-look like you,” she wheezed. Her mind was slowly emerging from the fog, and the last thing she wanted was to look like a crazed fangirl during the most important tryout of her life. She had a valid point, though. Even among the pegasi, who were known for their vibrant colors, it was difficult to find a Spitfire look-alike. Such bold colors were rare together.
“True enough, I suppose.” Her tone softened, losing its haughty edge. “So… are you okay? The team and I weren’t able to watch the evaluation this year, and I heard that the instructors ran a little wild.”
Dash could only moan in response. Even as the painkiller began to take effect, she was still in agony.
“I guess that’s answer enough,” said Spitfire, examining Dash’s injuries. “You look beat to Tartarus, and that’s only the visible stuff. I bet your muscles feel like pincushions right about now, huh?”
She nodded meekly.
“Not surprising. Still, you’re in better shape than most of your class. Do you know that you flew the equivalent of twice around the world over those nineteen days?” Spitfire trotted to the other side of the bed. “Did almost ten thousand pushups, too. Pretty wild, huh?”
The injured pegasus grumbled something in response. Spitfire could only guess at what curses the young recruit had wished upon the instructors.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know it’s over. Today and tomorrow are recovery days, and we select the new members on Friday. Spread your wings, please.”
Dash craned her neck as far as it would go, giving the Wonderbolt an embarrassed look. Though there were many stallions (and more than a few mares) who would kill to have the Wonderbolts’ captain ask them that, she wasn’t one of them.
Spitfire, who was used to preening her teammates, took a while to realize how awkward her statement had been. “Um… I didn’t mean… it’s just… your feathers are all ruffled.” Her yellow face flushed with a hint of red. “Y-you need them straightened, or you won’t fly right for a week.”
“Ugh… I don’t think I’ll by flying for a week, period,” Rainbow mumbled. In spite of herself, she rolled on her stomach, thankful for the painkiller’s numbing effects. Her wings rested limply at her sides as Spitfire began her work. Though it was a bit awkward having a mare she hardly knew doing something so intimate, she couldn’t deny that it felt good.
After both wings had been preened to Spitfire’s standards, she folded them back to Dash’s sides. The young flier sighed in contentment. Spitfire was glad to finally see her feeling better. The Wonderbolt’s mischievous conscience, however, would not let her leave the room without having the final word. She leaned over and quietly whispered into Dash’s ear.
“Felt good, huh? You should feel it when Soarin’ does it.”
Rainbow’s eyes shot open at the thought. Blood rushed to her face as she blushed a deep red. Spitfire left the room before the full implication of her statement dawned on the young flier.
---
10:23 AM
May 15th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
The door to the waiting room opened, revealing a fully uniformed Spitfire. She silently motioned for Rainbow Dash to follow her as she returned to the adjacent room. Dash got to her hooves cautiously, knowing that the fate of her dreams lie just a few meters in front of her. The world felt foreign and surreal. Everything looked the same, but she could sense that life-changing events were about to unfold – the Wonderbolts were choosing their new team.
Inside was a semi-circular conference table packed from the same smooth clouds that made up the walls and floor. There were no windows. The translucent ceiling was the only source of light. An entire wall had been replaced with a white board, covered in names and figures written in unintelligible chicken scratch. She could barely make out her own name from the list on the far left side. Figures were arranged in messy rows and columns. Some were circled or underlined; others were crossed out or scribbled over. The values they represented were a mystery to her.
“I know it’s difficult to tell from Soarin’s writing,” Spitfire said as she closed the door, “but you were at the top of your class in nearly everything. I suppose I should have expected nothing less from a filly with your list of accomplishments.”
She turned back to Rainbow and failed to hide a giggle. “By the way, you can lose the facemask.”
Dash fumbled with the hooded attachment, glad to be rid of it. Over the course of the evaluation, she had come to strongly associate the garment with pain.
As she finally escaped the grey mask, she turned her attention back to Spitfire. The yellow mare was back in her Wonderbolts uniform, but similarly unmasked. Dash desperately hoped she would soon be able to wear the same uniform. The sleek lines and bold colors represented the culmination of her life’s dreams since before she could flutter her wings fast enough to hover.
“I realize it’s been a tough few weeks,” the Wonderbolt captain began. “I apologize for the instructors’ rough treatment. We’re usually at home during the evaluation to make sure they don’t get too out of hoof, but it didn’t work out that way this year. This season’s how schedule started a bit earlier than normal.”
Spitfire trotted to the board, examining the messy writing. “Despite the instructors’ best attempts, though, you put up some pretty impressive figures. Everypony who’s ever met you should have expected world-class sprint times and top speeds, but a mare as small as you shouldn’t really be able to do the fifty-kilo/fifty-k flight so quickly.” She squinted at a particularly messy value. “From what I’m seeing, the only area that could really use some work is your maneuverability, and that’s nothing that can’t be improved.”
The confidence that had been building up as Spitfire praised her vanished with the last sentence. “W-what do you mean?” Dash asked, her voice quivering. “I can do way better! I was exhausted the whole time!”
“Dash,” Spitfire interjected.
“How can you expect me to perform my best when I’ve been constantly working all day for weeks?”
“Dash…” the Wonderbolt captain’s tone had dropped to a growl.
“Not to mention the dozen ponies yelling in my face the whole time! I know a Wonderbolt show puts a lot of pressure on you, but at least then they’re not screaming that you’re a disgrace to all pegasi!”
“Rainbow Dash!”
The young pegasus froze, her next words dying in her throat. Spitfire shook her head and sighed. “When I say it can be improved, I mean with professional training.” She cocked her head knowingly. “You know, the kind provided by a group of ponies with some expertise in that area?”
The realization took a moment to dawn on Rainbow. Her eyes widened at the implication. “You… you mean…”
Spitfire held up a hoof. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dash. I can’t offer you a slot on the team just yet.”
Dash’s heart sunk yet again. “What? Why not? What’s stopping you?”
“You’ve attracted some, uh…” Spitfire bit her lip, searching for the right words. “Unique interest.”
Still lost in the up-and-down explanation given, Dash glared at her idol in suspicion. “What do you mean, ‘unique interest’? Why can’t you give me a straight answer for once?”
Grimacing, Spitfire ran a hoof through her mane. “I can’t really tell you that. Not just yet.”
“So you can’t tell me why you can’t tell me?” Dash’s eyes narrowed. A small part of her mind was surprised at how angry she sounded, but the past three weeks of abuse and the impenetrable explanation had worn her patience down to nothing. She wanted answers, and no amount of wordplay was going to get in her way.
Spitfire sighed and glanced at a set of double doors on the opposite side of the room. Raising her voice not-so-subtly, she called out, “Maybe it would be easier for somepony else to explain things. Somepony who’s actually authorized to talk about it to prospective recruits.”
“Sounds good to me,” a muffled, male voice replied from the other side. The doors swung open noiselessly. Spitfire stood up straight, snapping a crisp salute to the stallion trotting into the conference room. He returned the gesture immediately.
Dash’s jaw fell open as she stared at the new arrival. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more. It might have been the dopey grin on his face after weeks of the instructors’ clenched-fist expressions. It could have been his inexplicable Los Pegasus surfer accent. Maybe it was the fact that he was a unicorn walking on clouds. After a moment, though, she was certain that the most surprising thing about his presence was simply the fact that Twilight’s brother was somehow involved.
“Shining Armor?”
His grin widened at Dash’s recognition. “Good! I was worried you might have forgotten about me.”
Rainbow was speechless.
The smile faltered a bit. “I, uh, heard you did pretty well in the evaluation.”
Still nothing.
He glanced at Spitfire, whose only response was to flourish her foreleg in a gesture that said get on with it.
Clearing his throat, he resorted to his least favorite approach – blunt professionalism. “Rainbow Dash, you’re a good flier. You don’t need me to tell you that. But, more importantly, you’re a model Equestrian citizen – dedicated, brave, and loyal to a fault. You’ve proven that to the world ever since you met my sister. If you didn’t have you heart set on the Wonderbolts, I’d write you a recommendation for the Royal Military Academy Sandhoof.”
He turned to the wall-sized white board, slowly walking the length of the room as he read Rainbow’s performance marks. “It looks like you’ve taken a different path, though. I’m no flight expert, but even I can tell these are world-class numbers. You’ve dedicated yourself to flying as much as I’ve dedicated myself to being a Guardspony, and the results speak for themselves.”
Reaching the last column, he turned his gaze to Spitfire. “Seeing as you’re the only member actually present, I think you should make the pitch. You’d know how to explain it better than me, anyway.”
Spitfire considered the proposition for a moment, nodding in agreement. She took a deep breath before beginning a speech she had spent the last three days perfecting.
“Dash, you… you remind me of myself at your age. Full of energy, deeply motivated, and one hay of a flier. More importantly, as Captain Armor said, your loyalty is beyond question, even to the point of being foolhardy. It takes either an incredibly loyal or incredibly stupid mare to put herself between a newly freed Discord and Princess Celestia.” She allowed herself a tiny smirk. “Frankly, I imagine it’s a bit of a mix.
“The point I’m making is that you’re the type to go down swinging rather than selling your friends down the river for personal gain. That alone is rare enough, but with you, it comes with the physical ability to follow through on your loyalty. You can do some real good in this world, Dash, if you choose to.”
Rainbow Dash listened to the praise with a skeptical frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “This sounds a lot like you’re trying to convince me to join the Guard or something, and that just isn’t my game. No offense, Shiny.”
Shining Armor waved his hoof dismissively. “None taken. But I think you should hear Spitfire out.”
Dash turned her attention back to her fillyhood idol. “So, what is this, really? A job in the Guard? Some kind of equinitarian position? Those don’t really sound my speed, you know?”
Spitfire hesitated for a moment before replying. “We can’t really tell you what’s involved until we’re more sure of your intentions. I can tell you that it isn’t a Royal Guard enlistment and it definitely isn’t an equinitarian job.” She put her hoof to her chin, lost in thought for a moment. “Well, maybe in an abstract, long-term way of thinking… but definitely not short-term.”
She glanced back at Dash before addressing Shining Armor again. “I think we should just tell her.”
The Captain of the Guard raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You mean right now? Before the non-disclosure agreement? And what about the psychological assessment?”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. “First of all, sir, I would remind you that you’re only here because the pony who really should be here is unavailable at the moment. Second, this mare’s been chosen as the bearer of the Element of Loyalty. Even if she refuses, she won’t spill her guts to anypony if the Princesses tell her not to. Celestia herself couldn’t come up with a better NDA.”
Visibly annoyed, the Wonderbolt continued. “As for her mental state, well, she’s faced off against some of the most deadly monsters and powerful enemies Equestria’s ever seen. She was offered the chance of a lifetime by Nighmare Moon’s illusions, but she turned it down to help her friends. She pummeled her way through hundreds of Changeling drones during your wedding ceremony and she didn’t stop until she was captured. The only time she ever cracked was when Discord gave her a shot of chaos straight to the brain.” She brushed a wayward strand of her mane that had fallen into her face during her speech. “Psychological state assessed.”
Shining Armor shifted uncomfortably. “I guess you’ve got a point.” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound as official as possible. “In the absence of the Commandant, I hereby authorize you to extend the official offer to her.”
Dash’s mind grasped at the first concrete hint in the entire conversation. “Offer? What offer?”
A ghostly hint of a smile played across Spitfire’s face. “There is a specialized group of ponies, Dash. An elite unit that operates in total secrecy to make Equestria safe for the rest of us. Their recruiting is very highly selective, and for good reason. These ponies are the tip of the spear; the knife in the darkness that silences threats before they even reach our shores. They are the best of the best - the most loyal Equestrians carrying out the most dangerous missions.”
She paused, allowing the smile to fully reveal itself. “And they want you.”
Rainbow Dash sat on her haunches, processing everything she had just been told. It sounded like something out of one of Twilight’s thriller novels, or maybe a conspiracy theory. Her head swam with questions, but one rose above all the others.
“But… what about the Wonderbolts?”
The smile on Spitfire’s face grew wider. “You mean that elite group of ponies loyal to the Princesses? The best fliers from around Equestria performing the most dangerous stunts?”
Rainbow’s eyes widened as she made the connection. “No way. No. Way.”
The grin on Spitfire’s face remained unchanged. “Absolutely. Every member of the Wonderbolts was first a member of this unit, known as RAID.”
Confusion and disbelief swelled within Rainbow. “How have I never head of this before? I mean, any of it? I think I’d be the first to know if all of the Wonderbolts were all former secret agents.”
The Wonderbolt leader, whose past Rainbow Dash now seriously doubted, shook her head at the accusation. “Listen to yourself, Dash. You’d know if they were secret agents? Nopony is supposed to know about RAID, and they’re not going to let it slip. As far as anypony else is concerned, there’s a training period before joining the Wonderbolts. The few ponies that doesn’t satisfy only ever find things redacted due to ‘protection of proprietary secrets’.”
Dash slowly shook her head in disbelief. “So… so you’re all, like… spies?”
Spitfire’s face twisted in a playful grimace. “Ugh, spies? Nah, they’re much more versatile than spies. RAID is actually an acronym for their primary mission set – Recon, Assault, Interdiction, Demolition. And yes, as the name suggests, raids.” Her grin grew even wider. “Guys like Con Mane may get all the glory, but they’d fall flat on their flanks without support from RAID.”
“But you’re still, like, super-secret black-ops ponies? Going and doing missions all over Equestria?”
“All over the world.”
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. “And you do everything by air?”
“Most everything.” Spitfire grin changed to a wry smirk. “I hope you don’t mind getting wet.”
Dash chose not to dwell on the unsettling remark. “A-and this is the only way to get into the Wonderbolts? This RAID thing?”
“Sure is. The Wonderbolts were actually started to recruit the best fliers around for RAID’s parent unit.”
It seemed surreal to Dash. Three weeks ago, she was ready for a life on display. She was going to perform in front of sellout stadiums and packed waterfronts. Paparazzi would hunt her down and foals would beg for her autograph. She would have her pick of any stallion in Equestria. Hay, she’d have her pick of most of the mares, too, should she ever decide to sample from the other side of the buffet.
But now, her lifelong idol was telling her the dark secret behind it all. The Wonderbolts were a front for a covert team of pegasi who went around the world doing whatever secret things they did. Probably awesome and dangerous stuff – just what Rainbow Dash wanted. Granted, it wasn’t in front of a crowd, but if this was the only way to get there…
Spitfire stretched her wings, shaking out the bright yellow feathers in a common pegasus gesture that said get ready to fly. “How about I show you exactly what we are?”
Dash recoiled in surprise at the suggestion. “But I thought it was, y’know, all secret and stuff?”
The same infuriatingly cryptic grin crossed Spitfire’s face. “I don’t think the Element of Loyalty’s chosen avatar will rat us out. I feel safe revealing a classified location to a pony who is functionally incapable of betrayal.” She nodded towards the double doors. “Come on. Let’s ride some thermals down.”
She led Rainbow down the corridor to a staircase that cut through the densely packed clouds to the base of the city. Even during her youth, Dash had avoided the airspace directly below the city. Though the rumors of sewage dropping from the city were provably false, it still held a reputation as someplace to avoid. She had never seen it from so close before. In a flash of conspiratorial paranoia, Dash wondered if agents of the shadowy organization who utilized the passage had not purposefully engineered that reputation.
They both spread their wings and took flight, catching an updraft that slowed their descent to a manageable pace as they spiraled down from Cloudsdale to the forest below. Dash felt the strain of the last three weeks in her stiff wings as the overtaxed muscles twinged in protest with every movement. She silently thanked whichever weather manager had scheduled a warm day, relaxing in the soothing air currents flowing over her barely recovered body.
The pair landed in the forest beneath Cloudsdale near an unremarkable rock face jutting from the moist dirt. Rainbow Dash watched in confusion as Spitfire began examining the stone carefully, mumbling to herself.
“I can never remember which one it is. I get why they have to disguise it, but couldn’t they make it something that doesn’t look like the entire rest of the wall? For Celestia’s sake, I hate having to f- ah! Found it!”
She stepped backwards and remained completely still. For a moment, Dash thought the Wonderbolt had really lost it.
A magical glow enveloped Spitfire, who took it in stride. A voice from the rock wall declared, “Identity confirmed. Spitfire – Active Wonderbolt. Access granted.”
The glow faded. The ground rumbled, sending pebbles falling down the rocky outcropping. Rainbow looked around nervously, not noticing that her escort was unfazed.
“Spitfire, what’s – whoa!”
The ground beneath them began to sink into the forest floor. Several meters of dirt were followed by metal cross-spars and reinforcing braces. She was on… an elevator?
As their descent continued, the shaft opened up into a cavernous space below. It was at least as big as the Wonderbolts’ training facility back up in Cloudsdale. Magical lights flooded the chamber with harsh white light. From her vantage point, Rainbow could tell that the entire space had been carved straight from the rock. Its purpose, however, was still a mystery. It had no defining characteristics. In fact, it looked abandoned.
Spitfire bailed out of the elevator, opting instead to glide down to the stone floor. Rainbow followed, touching down long before the elevator would make it to the ground.
“Where are we?” she asked incredulously.
“This,” said Spitfire, motioning to the facility’s interior, “is the Hub.”
Dash shot her a look of disbelief. “The Hub? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s the center of operations. Center? Hub? See the connection?” the Wonderbolt asked, touching her hooves together in pantomime.
“Dumb name, if you ask me.”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just follow me.”
The pair trotted towards a natural fissure in the wall. It let to a vault-like metal door that looked like it could take the full brunt of a dragon’s fury without so much as a scorch mark. It identified Spitfire in a similar way to the rock face had done on the surface. The clanging sound of metal on metal could be heard as the massive lock rods in the door retracted, allowing it to silently swing open on perfectly machined hinges. Spitfire trotted inside, followed shortly by her ever-more-confused companion.
Once they both cleared the hatch’s frame, it automatically closed, clanging the lock rods back into position and hissing as it sealed. They were alone again.
The new room looked like a small amphitheater. Rows of seats faced a stage big enough for one or two ponies to address the gathered crowd. One side supported a blackboard that had clearly been used for years. The other side was blank, likely for use as a projection screen. Above the stage, Dash saw a circular seal she didn’t recognize. A spear was crossed over a lightning bolt similar to that on the Wonderbolt’s uniform, both over a field of black. Around the edge, the words Audacia, Fortitudo, Officium were written in relief.
Spitfire led her to the front of the room and motioned for her to sit in one of the seats below the stage. She complied, still in awe at everything around her. The Wonderbolt pointed at the seal above the stage.
“That’s us as we’re known today. RAID is a self-sufficient unit that lives by those words. In the earliest days, we were the Royal Guard’s 1st Special Operations Group – Clandestine Activities Division.”
She trotted down from the stage, continuing her introduction. “When the operational demands became too much, 1st SOG-CAD was quietly decommissioned and restructured as a standalone unit. Since then, we’ve taken the missions unsuited for agents of Her Majesty’s Secret Service or operators of 1st SOG. If you really look into accounts of the Battle of Platinum Ridge, you’ll see hints of our involvement.” The same mischievous grin momentarily flashed across her face. “All deniable, of course. Nothing that couldn’t be explained as a stroke of good luck.”
The history lesson floated past Rainbow’s ears, unnoticed. She was drowning in disbelief at everything that had been revealed. Spitfire took a seat next to the stunned young pegasus, her voice taking on a much softer tone.
“I know this is a lot to process all in one day. Nopony expects you to make a decision quickly. Took me the better part of three days.” She wistfully looked off into the distance. “You know, back when Equestria was still cooling down.”
She smirked at the joke, but quickly returned to her point. “Now, I know you’ve got a bit of a reputation for being impulsive. This is too big of a decision to make on the spot, though. You’re giving a minimum of five years to this commitment, not to mention that it’s dangerous and incredibly demanding.” Her voice was steel as she ended her warning. “If you accept this, you might not walk away from it.”
Dash nodded weakly. “Yeah, I… I get it,” she replied in a dry, raspy voice.
“Do you?” Spitfire shifted to face Rainbow more directly. “Remember Tornado Duty? You took the job of a major metropolis as a two-bit town in the middle of nowhere. Not only that, but you wanted to break the wingpower record. That’s a step above ambition, Dash, That’s… pushing insanity. While RAID operatives are often called ‘crazy’ by their support teams, they’re firmly grounded in reality, believe me.”
Through the disbelief and wonder, Rainbow managed to scowl at the implied accusation. “Hey, we could have totally broken that record if it weren’t for the feather flu outbreak that hit Ponyville that month. And we still got it to work, even with all those pegasi missing! You were there, remember?”
Spitfire chuckled at the response she had provoked. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Lot of help you were, too,” Rainbow mumbled to herself.
Grinning and shaking her head, Spitfire got to her hooves. “Well, it wasn’t the most official of tests, but you’ve passed my last hurdle. I’ll show you to your temporary quarters. There’s food in there for lunch and dinner. If you have any questions or just want to talk some more, hit the button by the bedside. If it’s before ten o’clock in the evening, I’ll be there.” She looked Dash squarely in the eyes. “I’ll be outside your room at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to escort you back to Ponyville. Until then, I want you to think about what you’re getting yourself into.”
Nodding in acknowledgement, Dash followed Spitfire out of the briefing room. The elder pegasus made one final point.
“I hope everything I’ve said has gotten you to consider this with a little more scrutiny than you usually give, Rainbow Dash. That said, if you join…” She paused to find the right words. “You will be a part of the greatest fighting force this world has ever seen.”
---
1:15 AM
May 16th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Despite the lingering exhaustion from the evaluation, Rainbow Dash had not yet slept. She spent the night tossing and turning, staring into the distance while the previous day’s events played themselves out over and over again in her head. Phrases continually repeated themselves, echoing Spitfire’s words for hours on end.
Every member of the Wonderbolts was first a member of this unit.
She rolled onto her side, hoping in vain that she would finally find the position that would allow her to enter a peaceful state of slumber. The sheets and blanket made her sweat, but she shivered without them. Aches and pains sparked her nerves with every movement. Her body was entirely spent, but her mind was racing.
You can do some real good in this world.
An exasperated sigh escaped Dash’s lips. The utter disbelief of the unexpected revelation had given way to a feeling of reverse progress. One step forward, three steps back. She was so certain that, after completing the evaluation in one piece, the Wonderbolts were the next stop. To have that dream set so far into the future frustrated her to no end. She had arrived ready to fly for crowds of thousands, but the request made of her would keep her in the shadows.
They are the best of the best - the most loyal Equestrians carrying out the most dangerous missions.
The description of RAID, though, had not escaped her attention. If she was to be entirely honest with herself, she had only started listening in earnest when Spitfire mentioned “dangerous missions”. Danger was fun. Danger was exciting. It was half of the Wonderbolts’ allure. Every performance rested upon the razor’s edge. One small mistake could cost the team member his or her life and potentially another member’s as well. But they faced the danger in front of stadiums full of spectators and with smiles on their faces. Dash could hardly fathom a better way to spend her life.
The more she considered, though, the more she realized that she had already distinguished herself in the defense of Equestria. Even when she had finally performed a Sonic Rainboom, nothing compared to the sense of pride she felt for her friends and her home after defeating Nightmare Moon and Discord. If something wanted to get at them, they would have to go through her.
The tip of the spear.
Dash shifted again, gazing into the blue glow cast by her electronic clock. A worried voice in her head asked what else was lurking in the darkness, threatening her home and her friends. What was out there that required an entire secret unit to counter? Was Equestria less secure than she believed?
The thought of some hidden menace plotting against Equestria should have scared her. It should have made her thankful for the dozens of meters of rock and metal between her and the world, glad to be hidden away in the inner sanctum of a shadowy organization.
It only made her mad.
You will be a part of the greatest fighting force this world has ever seen.
Dash rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She dismissed Spitfire’s accusations of impulsiveness.
I’m not impulsive. I’m decisive. And I’ve decided.
---
8:48 AM
May 16th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Not knowing her way around the Hub, Dash stood outside the door to her temporary quarters. She had only gotten a few hours of sleep, but she felt as sharp and focused as ever. A sense of purpose had settled deep within her, causing a near-supernatural recovery overnight. Her body was still in pain, but her mind was clear.
To her fresh senses, the minutes before Spitfire’s arrival seemed an eternity. Nine o’clock was approaching. Spitfire would enter through the double doors to the barracks, and Rainbow Dash would forever alter the course of her own life with two simple words.
A lifetime later, the doors opened just as the minute hand on the clock above them clicked to point straight up. Spitfire appeared in her dress uniform, as crisp and professional as on the first day of instruction at the Wonderbolts Academy. She strode un to Dash, surprised to see the infamously lazy pegasus awake so early after such an ordeal.
With an eyebrow raised, she asked a simple question.
“Well?”
For everything I care about – for my friends, for Ponyville, for Cloudsdale, for the Princesses, and for myself.
Dash’s answer was equally simple.
“I’m in.”
NEXT CHAPTER: “New Moves”