Chapter 2: New Moves
8:39 AM
May 16th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Rainbow Dash awoke without pain for the first time in weeks. She was still stiff from head to tail, but the constant, throbbing soreness had abated. It no longer hurt to breathe. She knew the pain would return once she began moving again, but the relief of being able to lie down in comfort was the most beautiful sensation she had felt since her arrival in Cloudsdale.
She looked around the room, moving her head as little as possible. It was not as sparsely furnished as the one in the Wonderbolts’ training facility, but her new accommodations were by no means extravagant. Her dresser now had three drawers instead of two, the floor was carpet instead of industrial-grade stratus cloud, and the lights looked like something that belonged in a domestic environment rather than in a coal mine. It wasn’t the Princesses’ chambers, but it would do.
The addition for which Dash was most thankful was the clock hanging high on the wall. She hadn’t looked at a clock once during her three-week training stint. It amazed her how much she missed knowing the time of day. She suspected it was just another mind game the instructors had devised. Blurry memories of shouting and pain from the weeks before began gnawing at the edges of Rainbow’s mind. She pushed them back into a dark corner of her consciousness. No need to dwell on them now.
Instead, she turned her thoughts to Spitfire’s plan for the day. The Wonderbolt captain had graciously allowed Rainbow Dash to sleep in until nine o’clock. After that, though, the day was going to be packed. Simply explaining everything had taken nearly an hour.
Dash cautiously rolled over, taking extra care not to put too much strain on her tender muscles. If the rest of her day was going to be work, then she was going to enjoy her last twenty minutes of rest. She closed her eyes, relaxing into her mattress and enjoying the silence. She didn’t realize how much she missed peace and quiet until it had been so forcefully taken from her.
A hoof knocked on the door far too early for Rainbow’s liking. She would have drawn the covers over her head, but her legs were too stiff. She settled for an irritated sigh.
“Rainbow Dash? Are you up yet?” Spitfire’s muffled voice asked through the door.
“Mmm. Five more minutes.”
“Nice try.” The door swung open, revealing Spitfire in her Dress Blues uniform. It had clearly received more attention than her mane. Her tie clip, thunderbolt collar devices, and ceremonial goggles were polished to a high sheen. The shirt was pressed and neatly cuffed just above the knee, proudly displaying her Captain rank insignia on the sleeves. Though popular opinion held that Soarin’ looked better in the Dress Blues, the uniform still gave the Wonderbolts’ captain a sharp and professional appearance.
She gently prodded the sleepy pegasus. “Come on. You know how much we have to get done today. No time to waste.”
Dash grumbled and groaned as she slowly slipped out of bed. “How can you stand getting up so early?”
“It’s nine o’clock, Rainbow,” Spitfire deadpanned.
“Yeah, but you had to get that uniform on and make it look all… shiny.”
“I suppose it didn’t occur to you that I could have had everything polished beforehand?”
Dash considered the idea for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’d work…”
Spitfire chuckled at Rainbow’s sluggishness. “You really aren’t a morning pony, are you?”
“Who is a morning pony?”
“You’d better be one pretty soon,” Spitfire retorted. “RAID training starts at zero-six-hundred every day.”
Rainbow cocked her head at the Wonderbolt. “Zero-six-hundred?”
“Six in the morning.”
“What?!”
“Yep.”
Rainbow’s jaw hung open. “Do you all hate sleep or something?”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. “You have a lot to learn in a limited time span. If we don’t make the most of every bit of daylight, you won’t be ready in time.” She glanced at the clock. “Speaking of which, we need to get going. Your handler should be arriving any moment now.”
“My what?”
“Handler. They’re the one who gives you your assignments, intelligence briefs, and equipment. Basically, they’re your supervisor. A good handler can make or break an operative.”
Rainbow mulled that over in her head. She didn’t like supervision. Part of the reason she took the weather job in Ponyville was the lack of direct oversight. As long as the crops were watered and the storms didn’t get too nasty, nopony bothered her. The most supervision she’d ever had was during Tornado Duty a couple years back. Coincidentally, it was Spitfire who had been the supervisor for that.
“Whatever. I just hope she doesn’t slow me down too much,” Rainbow replied, waving a hoof dismissively.
Spitfire wanted to tell Dash how wrong she was for thinking that her handler would be a liability. She thought back on all of the times her handler had gone above and beyond to make sure he had done everything possible simplify her mission. Proper gear, fresh intelligence, specialist team members, and so, so much more. Handlers were guardian angels sent from heaven to make life easier (and hopefully longer). However, she held her tongue. Better to let the rookie discover it for herself.
The pair exited the room. Though the barracks had been carved out of the same bedrock as the rest of the Hub, the stone tunnels of the operatives’ quarters had been fitted with carpet and drywall to give the occupants a more comfortable living space. The idea of living underground had some novelty to it, but it wore off quickly. After working a long day surrounded by slate-grey walls and steel girders, the last thing anypony wanted was to come home to the exact same utilitarian construction.
They passed through a set of double doors and entered the cavernous atrium once more. It was still empty, but there was evidence of overnight activity. It was difficult to put her hoof on it, but something told Rainbow Dash that ponies had been working there while she was asleep.
A metallic grinding sound echoed through the chamber. In the near corner, the giant pillar of the elevator began to descend. Daylight streamed in momentarily, quickly being shut out as a cover slid into place over the opening.
“She’s here,” Spitfire observed. “C’mon. Let’s go meet her.”
Both pegasi approached the elevator shaft. It slowly retracted further into the ground, bringing the grassy platform closer to the ground. As much as Rainbow Dash disliked the idea of somepony watching over her, she was curious as to whom it would be. An old, grizzled RAID veteran? A former Wonderbolt, perhaps? That would be pretty awesome.
All thoughts of retired heroes and ex-stuntponies vanished as the elevator reached the floor. The color drained from her face as her eyes met the elevator’s sole occupant. She tried to say something, but she her found herself unable to make even the slightest noise – stunned into silence by the griffon before her.
“Long time, no see, dude.”
Spitfire raised an eyebrow at the newcomer. “You two know each-“
“Gilda?!”
The griffon smiled humorlessly. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to get here. Looks like you aren’t as fast as you tell everyone.”
Rainbow could only gape at her old friend. She hadn’t seen her Junior Speedsters roommate since the party in Ponyville. Judging by her icy reception, Dash knew the griffon hadn’t forgotten that incident.
The two former friends stared at each other – one in shock, the other relishing the moment. A tense silence permeated the air. Spitfire shifted her weight nervously. The first day of training had hardly begun and they were already running into snags.
“So, I, uh…” Spitfire began nervously, “I take it you two have met before.”
“Sure have,” Gilda replied, not breaking eye contact with the stunned Rainbow Dash. “Me and Dash go way back.”
“Y-yeah, of course! Way back,” continued Rainbow. “Best of friends, that’s us! Heh heh…”
Spitfire nervously fluttered her wings, unconvinced. She stopped herself from pursuing the matter further, though. Better to ask them individually in case her suspicions of bad blood between the two proved correct. Bringing it up now could end in a brawl.
“Well, uh… if you already know each other so well, then I guess an introduction would be a waste of time, huh?” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s get started with the facility tour.”
Gilda’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she snapped out of her gaze. “Sounds good,” she stated with too much enthusiasm. “Should we start with the armory? There’s tons of cool stuff for absolutely tearing things apart in there.”
The little color that had remained in Dash’s face vanished at the suggestion. Spitfire noted the change with some dismay. The “old friends” clearly had some unfinished business between them.
“I thought we’d start by introducing Dash to some of her classroom instructors first,” the Wonderbolt suggested. “She’s gonna be spending a lot of time with them, after all.”
Gilda rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Aw, not those dweebs! They’re so lame! Talk about being RAID in name only…”
Rainbow, on the other hoof, was inwardly relieved at Spitfire’s idea. Gilda’s already got razor talons and a wicked beak. I’d rather not be around her in a room full of weapons.
“Those ‘dweebs’ need to know who they’re gonna be working with,” Spitfire countered. “We’ll get to the armory eventually.”
The trio slowly started making their way towards the tunnels in the wall. Gilda shot Rainbow a dirty glance before falling in line behind Spitfire.
---
7:24 PM
May 16th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
“You okay, rookie?”
Spitfire’s question snapped Rainbow Dash out of the trance she had been in since dinner. She bolted up in bed and looked around her room, unaware that the Wonderbolt had entered.
“Huh? What?”
The worried wrinkles on Spitfire’s brow deepened. She sat down next to Dash on the bed. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Gilda showed up. You were a mess all day. More than one instructor said they thought I pulled strings to get you through the evaluation. They couldn’t believe such a frightened, sickly mare could pass it.” Her tone took on the slightest edge. “When other ponies start questioning my professionalism, I get angry very quickly.”
She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I can tell there’s something between you and Gilda, and it isn’t pretty. I want to give you a chance to tell me what it is before I ask her.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth, making sure their conversation was still private despite their isolation in Rainbow’s room. Her voice dropped to a murmur. “I’ve been working with her for a while now, and she doesn’t seem like the type to tell it as it is when she’s angry, y’know?”
Dash gave a small nod in agreement. During their days at Junior Speedsters, the pegasus had been the levelheaded one of the pair. Saying Gilda had a short fuse wasn’t quite accurate – she didn’t have one at all. The griffon blew her top at every perceived insult, which led to more misunderstandings than Dash cared to remember. She’d bailed her hotheaded friend out of more than one sticky situation.
“Yeah, that’s Gilda, all right,” she replied, a hint of regret in her words.
Spitfire gently pressed the issue. “So? What happened?”
Dash bit her lip, dredging up unpleasant memories. “We kinda… had a falling-out a few years ago. Haven’t spoken to her since.” She cast her eyes down in guilt. “I’d actually pretty much forgotten about her ‘til now.”
The two pegasi sat in silence. Spitfire was torn between pressing Rainbow for a definite answer and letting her recover from what was undoubtedly an emotionally draining day. She needed to know if her star rookie could handle the situation, but her usual method of head-on confrontation would only make matters worse. The silence continued.
Spitfire was unsure of how to proceed. She had been trained as a fighter and a flier, not a therapist. Normally, she’d either tell the young mare to suck it up or refer her to one of the unit’s counselors. From the looks of her now, Rainbow wouldn’t be helped by the first option. The second would take far too long.
“Tell you what,” Spitfire began. “You’ll begin your training schedule tomorrow as planned. If things get better between you and Gilda, great. If you find that you really can’t work with her, we’ll work something out. Deal?”
The young pegasus nodded after a moment of consideration, allowing a wave of relief to wash over her new mentor. Spitfire gently flapped her wings and rose from the bed, planting all four hooves on the floor. “Glad you’re on board with me.” She grinned wryly. “I suppose I should have seen something like this coming, what with how quickly she volunteered to be your handler.
Dash’s head snapped up, instantly losing its morose expression. She stared into space for a fleeting moment before turning to Spitfire.
“She asked for this?”
“Mhm. And it was a real load off my back when she did. I was afraid nopony would step up to the challenge.”
A brief moment passed before Dash realized what she had heard. She took to the air, hovering in the Wonderbolt’s face.
“Challenge?! Whaddaya mean, ‘challenge?’”
The grin on Spitfire’s face widened as she coyly looked away. “Well, you don’t exactly have a reputation of being easy to deal with.”
She glanced back at Rainbow in time to see her eye twitch. Her guilt and sadness had evaporated, pushed back by the competitive streak that defined her character.
“I’ll show them! Rainbow Dash can work with anypony! They’ll see!”
She began pacing around the room, angrily continuing her rant to nopony in particular. Satisfied with her work, Spitfire excused herself from the room, allowing Rainbow to continue her tirade.
She’s so easy to manipulate…
---
Three weeks later
0912
06 JUN 04 MIL-STD CAL
“Again.”
Rainbow Dash awkwardly nocked another arrow to the longbow, praying the result would be less disastrous than her last several attempts. The rock wall behind the target was pockmarked with craters, yet the steel plate itself was unharmed.
Along the firing line, several other pegasi experimented with their own bows. Most had the same result as Dash. Every few seconds, the twang of a bowstring would be followed by a sharp crack as a magical arrow gouged a crater in the bedrock on the far end of the range. One pony, however, loosed arrows with practiced finesse. She had hit seven targets in a row before the instructors had whisked her off into the bowels of the facility.
“Draw.”
Rainbow pulled the bowstring back until the enchanted arrowhead rested an inch from the yew of her bow. Her legs twinged with pain from the unusual exertion. She gritted her teeth, concentrating on arcing her shot onto the plate.
“Fire.”
She loosed the arrow. Her heart leaped as it sailed across the expanse of the range, directly in line with the target. The excitement vanished as quickly as it appeared when the arrow sank below the bull’s eye, colliding with the plate’s supporting legs. The blast tore them apart, sending the metal sheet clanging to the rock floor. She winced at the noise. Glancing around, she could see everypony else staring at her.
The instructor removed his protective earplugs, slowly making his way over to Rainbow. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, it’s been five hours now. I guess we can cross ‘longbow’ off the list for you, recruit.”
Dash’s ears drooped. She had been trying to find a weapon she could use effectively for the last week. Longbow, broadsword, short sword, mace, axe, wing blades… dozens of weapons had been tried, and she had not shown any promise with any of them. Spitfire had assured her that she would find something, but the list was growing dangerously short. She had been deeply disappointed when it was discovered that she could not wield a claymore. She had caught a glimpse of herself holding it in a mirror and instantly declared it to be The Most Awesome Weapon Ever. Everything else instantly became inferior.
The next weapon on the list hardly piqued her interest. A common spear, hardly different from the kind used by the Royal Guard every day. It had some kind of sharpness enchantment on it to keep its edge. Other than that, though, it was unremarkable in every way. Rainbow Dash did not have high hopes for it.
She was ushered from the range without ceremony. Two instructors, a stallion and a mare, led her down a long corridor to a well-padded room populated by target dummies aligned along the room’s center. All but one were tattered and torn, the unfortunate victims of previous RAID trainees. They reminded Rainbow of Rarity’s mannequins. The only major difference was the red paint marking the location of major organs and blood vessels.
The two instructors accompanying her opened a locker along the wall, producing a spear and a curved metal plate with thick burlap straps. They attached the plate to one of the instructors’ hind legs just below the flank. He gripped the spear in his fetlock and flew in front of Rainbow Dash.
“Alright, rookie,” he began, “this here’s your standard Guard spear. Length of two meters, weight of five kilos. Balanced for stabbing, not throwing, so don’t get any bright ideas. It ain’t a javelin.”
He nodded at the plate attached to his hind leg. “This is a new addition. Part of an experiment to increase the effectiveness of spears. See that dimple?”
He tapped the plate’s center with his spear. There was an impression that cupped the weapon’s counterweight perfectly. “That lets you put more power into your thrusts. Instead of using your foreleg for both aiming and force, you just kick your hind leg forward and let your foreleg do the aiming.”
To demonstrate, he took to the air once more, approaching one of the damaged targets. With a single deft movement, he kicked his knee forward, thrusting the spear a half-meter into the target’s chest.
Dash’s eyes widened, suddenly much more interested in the weapon.
“Seems to work pretty good, given that you have the proper technique,” the instructor commented. “We’ll get you fitted for a legplate and give you a go at Tommy Target over there.”
He retrieved several legplates from the locker. After ten minutes of fitting, tightening, and fine adjusting, Rainbow’s plate had been secured. It felt odd, as the cold metal curved around the front of her leg a bit too much for her comfort, but she pushed the sensation out of her mind. She had just seen a spear go clean through that target dummy, and she wanted a chance to try it out for herself.
“Remember,” the instructor lectured, “don’t use your foreleg for anything but guidance. Let your hind leg do the hard work. Stabilize yourself with your wings and strike.”
Dash approached the fresh target, spear in hoof. She aimed for the same spot as the instructor and kicked her knee forward. The power in her thrust surprised her. The spear’s shaft slipped in her fetlock, completely missing her imaginary bull’s eye. She nervously glanced at her instructors, fearing that she had proven herself incapable with yet another weapon.
To her confusion, they both wore impressed expressions. She looked back at her spear to find it sticking out of the back of the target’s neck, having passed clean through.
She drew the spear from the burlap body. It left a gaping hole on both sides, slicing directly through one of the red-painted blood vessels. Dash was no expert on traumatic injury, but she was fairly certain that anypony unlucky enough to receive such a grievous wound would not live to tell the story.
The instructors trotted over, examining the wound. “Holy Celestia, recruit,” the mare muttered. “You must have some kind of bloodlust.”
Her partner peered through the channel created by the spear’s shaft. “Yeah, nopony’s walkin’ away from this one. That was pretty brutal.”
“I think we’ve found her weapon.”
“Seems that way.”
It was the first good news Dash had heard in weeks. She smiled to herself and nodded. This thing is awesome.
---
11:28 AM
June 9th, 1004 New Solar Calendar
Rainbow Dash hovered away from the mess hall’s packed lunch line, tray in hoof. She had been enjoying her day off immensely. Her spear training had been going well, but she had not been above ground in weeks, and she could feel cabin fever starting to set in. The fresh air of the open sky had never felt so crisp and clean before. She had missed the feeling of the cool breeze in her mane more than anything. She flew in a straight line for hours simply because she could.
At some point during her new-found liberty, she realized that she had been away from Ponyville for more than six weeks without contacting any of her friends. They were probably worried sick about her. She had told them that the evaluation would take three weeks and that she would get in touch with them as soon as possible afterwards. One or two days extra would not fluster them, but Dash could easily envision Twilight panicking after the first week. With any luck, she would have written to Celestia about it. The Princess would know all about Rainbow’s situation and find some way to calm her pupil without revealing the true nature of Dash’s absence.
Still, she told herself, I should probably write them a letter or something. Let them know that I’m not ditching them for a bunch of new friends or something. She owed them that much. A simple letter would do the trick. She would only need to write one. As long as it was addressed to Twilight, she could rest assured that all of her friends would eventually see it. Applejack or Rarity might forget to tell the others if they were particularly busy on the day it arrived, Fluttershy was too timid to be reliable, and Pinkie… well, there was no telling what would happen to the letter should Pinkie Pie get her hooves on it. Best to go with Ponyville’s resident neat-freak.
Resolved to write a letter before bed, Dash had headed back to the Hub in time for noon chow. The enchanted rock face now accepted her as Rainbow Dash – Trainee before starting the elevator’s descent. She had learned her way around the rocky halls over the past three weeks, finding her way to the mess hall just before the midday rush.
She looked around for an open seat. She found several from which to choose, but a table near the middle of the hall caught her eye. It had a sole occupant – a female griffon with a perpetually condescending expression.
Dash swallowed. Her interactions with Gilda thus far had consisted of being ignored or patronized. As much as she wanted to ignore the elephant in the room, she knew that they would eventually need to have an earnest conversation about past events. Now seemed as good a time as any. There were tons of other ponies around, which would at least give Gilda pause for thought before making a scene. The public setting would also allow the griffon to leave if she was not ready to talk yet.
Rainbow allowed her impulsive side to take over, deciding that it was time to fix things. She floated to Gilda’s table, setting her tray across from her former friend, who looked up from her food with an annoyed expression. When Dash didn’t leave after a few moments, Gilda finally broke the silence.
“Trying to sit at the cool table again, Dash? You’re a bit outta practice for that.” She nodded to a table of unicorns in lab coats. “Why don’t you go sit with those dorks? You’ll probably fit in better.”
Dash ignored the half-hearted barb. “Gilda, why did you volunteer to be my handler? I can see that you still blame me for what happened in Ponyville. So what gives? Why would you put us back together on purpose?”
Gilda popped a cherry tomato into her beak, swallowing it whole. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted a front-row seat to watch you make a fool of yourself in front of the Wonderbolts. Figured it might be good for a laugh or two.”
A frown spread across Rainbow’s face. “Come on, Gilda, I know that’s not it. You don’t actually want to see me screw up. If that was the case, you’d have already sabotaged me.” Her eyes narrowed. “So what was the real reason?”
“I just said it.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Then I guess you aren’t as smart as you think you are.”
Dash growled at her. “Why are you being such a hatchling about this?”
“A hatchling? Funny talk from the pony who hangs out with lame-os like your friend Pinkie Pie!”
“Don’t talk about Pinkie like that!”
Gilda feigned an apology. “Oh, I’m sorry! Did I hurt your feelings? Do you not like it when I talk about your little pony friends like that?”
“No, I don’t!” Dash replied angrily. “You were awful to all my friends during your visit. I can’t remember one time you treated them decently!”
“Well, duh! They were a bunch of losers. Losers who turned you into the biggest loser of them all!”
The pair glared at each other. Despite the heated argument, Dash was confident that Gilda had another angle. She just needed to figure out a way to get the jealous griffon to spill the beans.
Jealous…
Realization swept over Rainbow as she put all the pieces together. Gilda’s behavior had never made sense to her. The griffon had always been brash and abrasive, but she always stopped well short of cruelty. When she had snapped at Pinkie Pie, and later Fluttershy, Dash was at a loss for an explanation.
All of Gilda’s odd behavior suddenly made sense. Dash had tried to introduce her to five of her new friends at once. It was only natural that Gilda would start to get protective. She saw those ponies as a threat to her friendship with Dash.
“You were jealous of them.”
For a split-second, Gilda froze. She regained her composure too late to keep Rainbow Dash from noticing the slip. “Jealous? Of those dweebs?” She snorted in derision. “They must’ve done a real number on you if that’s what you think.”
Dash once again ignored the insult, pressing ahead. “I invited you over hoping that you’d be able to hang out with my Ponyville friends, but I never thought about how it looked to you. It must have seemed like I was rubbing my new friends in your face.”
Gilda’s bitter expression softened. “Um… well… a bit, yeah.”
“I… I’m so sorry, Gilda,” muttered Rainbow. She hung her head, closing her eyes. “I never meant to make you feel replaced. I just wanted to be able to hang out with everypony at once.” She looked up at Gilda again, who no longer appeared upset. “I should have made time for just us instead of throwing everypony into the mix so soon.”
“Well, if that’s the case… then I guess I’m sorry, too,” Gilda replied quietly. Dash wasn’t used to hearing her friend speak so quietly. “I hated seeing those ponies be so friendly with you. I don’t even know why – I just did. I guess that’s why I got so angry.”
Rainbow nodded. “You can be loud and obnoxious sometimes, but I know you aren’t a jerk. I’ve spent the last few years wondering what happened to you since Junior Speedsters.”
“Same here,” Gilda admitted. “I wondered when you had changed so much that you would want to ruffle my feathers just for fun.
The pair sat in silence for a moment before Dash extended a hoof across the table.
“So… friends again?”
Gilda chuckled, accepting the hoof in her claw. “Yeah, friends.”
The tension that had been building for the last three weeks began ebbing away, replaced with the awkward but warm sensation of reconciliation. It would still take time for things to return to any semblance of normal, but the first, most difficult step had been taken. Time would take care of the rest.
Gilda stopped eating for a moment. “By the way, since when am I the ‘loud and obnoxious’ one?”
“Uh, since always,” Dash replied through a mouthful of hay fries.
“Oh yeah?” Gilda retorted, a smile curling on her beak. “Who here jumped up on a lunch cloud back at camp and shouted out everyone’s secret crushes?”
“That was one time!”
---
Eleven months later
1800
01 MAY 05 MIL-STD CAL
Rainbow Dash stood in formation among the rest of her graduating class. On a podium in front of the inductees, an instructor read off their names and assignments. The loudspeakers sent the instructor’s voice echoing off of the stone walls of the Hub’s main atrium. To Dash’s surprise, there were several unicorns and earth ponies alongside her. She had never seen them before, despite having spent most of the last year in the Hub.
“Indigo Wind – Gamma Division, Strike Group Bravo, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad.”
Over the last year, she had learned things she could never have imagined about flying. She had already considered herself one of the best fliers before leaving for the evaluation. The instructors had shown her up once her training began. She wasn’t as maneuverable at high speeds as she should have been, and her ability to carry weight over long distances was severely lacking. Most of all, though, her precision was almost nonexistent. Her style was brash and showy – not well suited for flying in formation.
“North Star – Beta Division, Logistics Support Group, 3rd Transport Company.”
RAID had changed all of that. The training had been a long, painful process, but she had been transformed from a flashy soloist into a disciplined aerial warrior. Her eyes had been opened to an entirely new world. Precision flying was an art and science that required uncommon dedication and drive. Rainbow Dash prided herself on both of those attributes.
“Amethyst – Beta Division, Communications Group, Long-Range Communication Section.”
Gilda had been incredibly helpful since their reconciliation. She had secured advanced spear instruction in Rainbow’s training cycle. Experts in leg-plate spear training were few and far between. Dash was still unsure as to how Gilda found the trainers in the first place. If such resourcefulness became the standard, the pair of them would become an unbeatable team.
“Golden Iris - Beta Division, Royal Guard Liason.”
As much as Rainbow Dash enjoyed her new surroundings, she missed her friends from back home. The suffocating professionalism required of her while working in the Hub had worn her down over the months. She often found herself wishing she could fly to Sugar Cube Corner to pull pranks with Pinkie Pie or visit Sweet Apple Acres to challenge Applejack to yet another competition. Her main line of communication with them was through her letters, which she sent weekly. She had been anticipating her post-graduation leave for weeks, during which she was to “do anything except talk about, hint about, or even think about RAID.” Plans were already in the works for a six-mare sleepover at the library.
“Thunderclap – Gamma Division, Strike Group Echo, 3rd Platoon, 4th Squad.”
She had learned about the secret inner workings of RAID. Gamma Division, the direct-action branch, had Rainbow’s name written all over it. Most of her trainers were in Gamma. They did all of the cool stuff – they gave RAID its name. With her new-found skills in spear fighting, she was all but certain she would be placed on a Gamma Squad.
“Bass Beat – Beta Division, Intelligence Support Group, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad.”
Beta Division was the support branch. It handled everything from procuring equipment and material to communication between deployed squads and Headquarters. They couldn’t claim any of the glory that Gamma could, but they kept the entire operation fed and working.
“Shadow Scryer – Theta Division, Equine Intelligence. Report to Theta HQ for further instruction.”
Theta Division… Rainbow didn’t know much about Theta. It handled RAID’s intelligence operations. Shrouded in secrecy and mystery, Theta enjoyed a great amount of independence. Dash had been told that she would almost certainly not be placed in Theta Division. Her abilities in the field were too valuable.
“Windblown – Beta Division, Logistics Support Group, Headquarters Staff.”
There were other minor divisions, like Omicron, in charge of security, and Lambda, the research & development arm. Dash had mostly ignored those. They each amounted to less than a hundred ponies each, and they rarely took in recruits.
“Saga Soul – Gamma Division, Quick Response Group, 2nd Platoon, 3rd Squad.”
The stallion to Dash’s left allowed himself a tiny smirk despite standing at attention. Rainbow’s heartbeat quickened. Her assignment was next.
“Rainbow Dash – Beta Division, Individual Augmentee.”
It took her a few seconds to process the announcement. She wanted to stand forward and protest, but Spitfire’s gaze from the stage stayed her hooves. A simple nod from the Wonderbolt told her to simply go with it. As much as Rainbow trusted her new mentor, though, she could not help but to be very confused. Beta Division?
“Graduates, you have all endured a long training cycle,” the instructor continued. “Some of you were introduced to RAID six months ago. Others of you have been here for a year or more. It has required strict discipline to get this far, and it has paid off. RAID will be your chance to make a difference in the world. It is your chance to serve Equestria with your unique talents.
“Through our training, you have become the will of the Princesses. Your actions will determine the fate of their ponies all over Equestria. Your lives will influence the course of history. Few ponies have what it takes to serve with us.
“And now, it is my honor to bestow upon you the last two rites of initiation.”
Ten instructors stepped forward from the crowd behind the gathered graduates. They each held a small pin in their mouths. With great care, they attached the metal insignia to the recruits’ uniforms just below the collar. With coordinated precision, they all flew into the dark above, leaving the stage and graduates bathed in the spotlights’ glow.
“Your instructors have placed the RAID unit insignia over your hearts. Not only does it formalize your graduation from mere recruit to full operative, it symbolizes your transition from being their students to being their brothers and sisters in arms. Wear it with pride, as you have earned your place in the world’s most elite fighting force.”
The stallion paused for a moment, allowing RAID’s newest operatives to appreciate what they had just achieved. A small but sly grin crept onto his face as he began his address anew.
“There is one last step you must take before becoming full unit members. I leave it to your former instructors to carry this out.”
A bittersweet scent wafted into Dash’s nostrils. It was familiar, but not one she had encountered often. She tried to recall a memory of the smell. It was… the west field of Sweet Apple Acres, near the fence. The fields on the adjacent property carried a similar scent. She remembered asking what crops had been planted there. Applejack’s response had been… oh, what was it? Wheat? No, no wheat. Rye? No, not that either. Barley?
That was it! Barley! Barley and… hops?
Barley and hops.
She looked up to see the instructor that had just pinned the RAID insignia on her uniform hovering above her, grinning madly and holding an enormous barrel. The stallion at the podium shouted the ceremony’s closing command.
“Get soaked!”
---
9:34 PM
May 1st, 1005 New Solar Calendar
Rainbow Dash floated around the party, reveling in her delightful buzz. She had never been a big drinker back in Ponyville, but she was known to enjoy the occasional fruity drink or hard cider at the local taverns. She could never hope to keep up with Applejack, though. That was one area in which the farmer had Rainbow beat hooves down. After their first misadventure with firewater, Dash had been all but convinced that the Apple family raised their children on the strongest of whiskies.
Luckily for her, she had at least some tolerance to intoxicating beverages. It had come in handy when she was on her back with a funnel in her mouth, chugging the entirety of three low-quality brews to a thundering chant of encouragement. After standing up to a chorus of cheers from the crowd, she found that she had developed a grudging respect for the eggheads at the Royal University. She had heard stories of their parties before, but she had never believed the wild tales of uninhibited insanity.
If she had been less disciplined (and more sober), the star-studded crowd would have made her squeal in fangirlish delight. The entire active roster of the Wonderbolts was in attendance, along with some of the old legends about which she had read. She could see Fleet Foot and Rapid Fire trying to fly straight lines towards the open bar, where Soarin’ and Spitfire were already engrossed in conversation. She couldn’t quite tell from her inebriated state, but she could swear they were exchanging less-than-innocent glances.
She giggled to herself. It didn’t matter if it was the truth, the drinks, or her overactive imagination. She was really, truly enjoying herself for the first time in months. A few of her classmates from the past year had found her and began swapping memories of their most embarrassing moments during training. It wasn’t quite like hanging out with her friends from Ponyville, but it was a decent substitute for the time being.
Dash hastily began recounting a day of weighted aerobatics, drunkenly pantomiming her feats. She tried to mimic a barrel roll, but ended up flipping on her back and crashing to the ground, eliciting roaring laughter from her classmates. In any other circumstances, she would have immediately objected, but she instead laughed along with them.
The voice of her mentor broke through the guffawing. “Lookin’ good, Dash. I’m so glad we recruited you for this top-secret…” Spitfire searched for the proper term, tapping her chin with her hoof. “Thing. That’s it.”
“I think you mean RAID, Shpitfire,” Dash slurred in response, still flat on her back. “You should probably know the name of your own aweshome shuper-shpy group.”
Spitfire silenced the intoxicated pony with a hoof. “Don’t you go correcting me, Little Miss Sonic Rainboom. You’re so drunk, you can’t even do a barrel roll right.”
Her hoof was batted away as Rainbow prepared her defense. “Hey, it’sh been a long time shinsh I had a good party.” She rolled over, shakily rising to her hooves. “And it’sh your fault I’m like thish, anyway!” She pointed an accusing hoof at the Wonderbolt captain. “Who wash it pouring that shtuff down my throat, huh?”
“Soarin’ and Fleet Foot,” she answered with a sheepish smile.
“And?”
“…and perhaps I lent a hoof for a bit.”
“Shee? It’sh your fault, jusht like I shaid.” Dash began to tip over before her classmates caught her. “Thanksh, girlsh.”
“You’re such a lightweigh, Dash,” one of them chuckled.
She ignored the comment, instead scanning the crowd with increasingly blurry vision. “Where’sh Gilda? I haven’t sheen her yet, and she should prolly be here shomewhere.”
Spitfire looked around in a half-hearted effort. “I dunno. Didn’t you say you patched things up with her in one conversation?”
“Uh huh. B’cause I’m shuch an aweshome friend.” She giggled to herself, finding her statement much more humorous under the effects of the many consumed beverages.
“Doesn’t that seem a bit, y’know, quick?” the Wonderbolt captain asked. “It looked like she really hated your guts, but it only took one five-minute conversation and suddenly she’s your friend again?”
Dash waved a dismissive hoof at her mentor. “You obvioushly don’t know me very well. Nopony can’t be friendsh wif me. All I have to do is be ash radical ash poshible. Ashk Gilda!” She looked around the crowd. “Where ish she, anyway?”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. It was not even ten in the evening and her rainbow-maned prodigy was already beginning to fade. “Okay, Dash, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. You’ve had plenty of fun already, and if we don’t get some water in you, tomorrow morning, you’ll have the worst headache since the evaluation.”
“I’m fine. Really. It’sh too early for bed.”
Undeterred, Spitfire continued leading her from the crowd. “Not for you, it isn’t. I need you to be able to get out of bed before three in the afternoon tomorrow. I still have to explain what your new assignment with Beta Division is.”
The graduation ceremony was a blurry memory for Dash, who had other things on her mind.
“Hey, Shpitfire,” she began, a drunken grin growing on her face. “Did I shee you hitting on Shoarin’ at the bar earlier?”
“No. You did not,” she answered quickly.
“Yeah I did. You and Shoarin’! Oooooh!”
Spitfire groaned to herself. Drunks could be far too observant for their own good.
“Nah. I don’t swing that way, anyway.” A little white lie couldn’t hurt. Besides, the drunken graduate wouldn’t remember it the next day, anyway.
“You what? You’re a… a…?” Dash hopelessly grasped for the proper term.
“Mmhmm.”
The inebriated pegasus tried to form a coherent sentence. All she could manage was a few squeaks before her eyes rolled back and her legs gave out beneath her.
Spitfire picked up the unconscious Rainbow Dash and floated her to the barracks, chuckling at the hangover waiting for the young mare in the morning.
NEXT CHAPTER: “First Call”