//------------------------------// // ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Practice // Story: ECRL: The Wonderhawks // by WildFire15 //------------------------------// Concorde made his way back to his room shortly before ten o’clock as the other racers he had spent the evening hanging out with headed off. With the first day of practice starting in the morning, they all needed to get a decent amount of sleep. It still felt strange to him. He’d been sat at a table with his former rival Wolke, one of his idols Mercedes and all-round good bloke Riggwelter as well as fellow rookie Lotus Stream and enjoyed a good laugh with them. Such a simple thing had never really crossed his mind when he was younger, dreaming of racing in the ECRL. In the past, he’d usually just consider his rivals as other things, not necessarily ponies to interact with off track. He spoke to them if they spoke to him, he wasn’t rude after all, but he never felt like going out of his way to say anything unless it was needed. He brushed the aimless thought from his mind as he entered the room and for a moment thought Dust had gone out, before he heard the familiar commentary of the EBC race broadcast. As he walked further into the room after closing the door, he found Dust lying on her bed with a laptop, watching a replay of what sounded like the previous year’s race. She didn’t acknowledge him as he sat on his bed, note pad thrown open on his lap and leaned over slightly so he could see the race footage as well. Rossi and Zip Line were jousting for the lead of the race through the chicanes at the end of the lap and first corner. He remembered this duel took place after a controversial incident between Nicki Hest and Ekstrom when the former rather dopily hit the latter towards the end of the back straight and, somehow, Ekstrom got the blame from his team. It wasn’t long before the race settled down, with Rossi gaining a two second gap on Zip Line that he maintained to the end of the race, but there were still some duels further back down the order, with Blitzen trying to overtake Quicksilver into turn eight despite the fact it was next to impossible to overtake in that corner. Dust shut the laptop once the race was over as Concorde went over his notes, making a few changes along the way. Without a word, Dust settled down and turned the light off, leaving Concorde to sort himself out in the dark. He wasn’t overly concerned as he dropped his note book to the floor next to the bed and got under the covers. As he lay on his side, staring at the closed windows ahead, his mind raced. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t quieting down, but it seemed like every synapse in his brain wanted to fire at the same time. Even though his eyes were heavy and his body relaxed, his mind wanted to stay wide awake just in case. In case of what, he wasn’t sure but his mind was very much reluctant to allow him to sleep. As he lay there, he became aware of the fact he needed the toilet and sighed. His nerves could be terrible at times, though playing on his guitar for a bit usually settled them. With everyone around him asleep, he really didn’t want to disturb them so he decided he may as well go and spend a penny and get what sleep he could. *** “Did you sleep at all last night, Concorde?” Fleetfoot asked as the team walked through the paddock the following morning as they carried their stuff to their stable, or garage as they were called on what was mainly a kart track. “On and off, aye.” He answered, stifling a yawn. He still felt oddly groggy with most of what happened since he got up that morning hiding in the depth of his memory. “What time did you go to bed?” Ratchett asked. “No idea. Think I left the bar around ten and was up a bit longer watching last year’s race with Dust.” “Why were you in the bar?” “Ran into Wolke, he invited me and just went with it.” “You were hanging out with Wolke?” Maffett asked, surprised, before mockingly adding: “Aren’t I good enough for you anymore?” “You never were in the first place.” Concorde grinned while Dash and Pinkie exchanged uncertain, yet amused looks. “But I’m just as stunned as you are.” “Just go to bed earlier tonight, Corde.” Fleet said, ending the conversation as she opened the door at the back of their garage. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked as it usually was when they’d arrive in the morning. “We’re sharing a stable?” Dash asked, looking at the sign next to the door that displayed their team logo along with the logo of one of the kart teams. “Didn’t I mention that?” “No.” The entire team answered in unison. “You haven’t told us why Spitfire would want a racing team, either.” Maffett added. “Oh, sorry. We’re sharing with the Bridleham kart team.” Fleet smiled as she opened the door. Inside the large garage, three Earth Ponies were sat around a partially assembled kart, each working on different parts as they looked over to see who had just opened the door. Parts of the kart’s body work were leaned against the wall, which were blue with a gold stripe going up the centre. “Morning.” One of them said in an Australian accent before going back to what he was working on. “Good morning. You must be Jack Bridleham.” Fleet said. “I am. You must be-” “Echo Fleetfoot!” A young mechanic excitedly cut him off, which earned him a disapproving look. “Where? I don’t see her.” Maffet grinned, the joke getting slightly lost as Concorde yawned loudly, hiding his mouth behind his hoof. “Is he always like this is he doesn’t drink enough tea in the morning?” Ratchett asked. “Aye.” “First things first, I suppose, how much of this cave of a stable do you stals need?” Fleet asked as she dumped some of her stuff. “We’ve got plenty of room here, love.” Jack Bridleham replied without looking as he attached something to the front of the engine. “Perfect half and half split, then.” “Yep.” “Works for me.” Fleet smiled as Concorde hid another loud yawn behind his hoof. “Stick the kettle on, you clod. You’ll probably wake up then.” Maffett remarked. “We’ll have a cuppa as well!” One of the mechanics called from behind the kart. “Milk and three sugars, mate!” Jack added with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Concorde said off-hoof, still not with it. The Wonderhawks went about their preparations as Concorde made the tea. Fleetfoot was busy reading through her note book regarding the circuit with recent weather schedules before she noticed the young Bridleham mechanic was sheepishly approaching her. “Erm, Ms Fleetfoot?” The young mechanic asked, Fleet giving him her attention. “Sorry to bother you when you’re starting your prep and everything, but could we get an autograph?” The Wonderhawks looked at Fleet, who had a somewhat neutral expression on her face. After a moment, she smiled. “You most certainly can, young stal.” “Let’s get them a picture as well!” Rainbow Dash added as the mechanic offered Fleet a Wonderbolts poster to sign. “Sit her in the kart and we’ll get a photo of the lot of you.” Maffett remarked as she grabbed her camera. *** Concorde lined up at the end of the pit lane, once he had his full race suit and helmet on to await the start of practice. After two more huge cups of tea and some time to study the weather and track notes, he was wide awake. Practice was the most exciting time of the weekend for him. There was no pressure on his shoulders and there was a new track laid before him that he’d always wanted to fly around and waiting for the green flag to let him out on track was nearly unbearable. He’d enjoyed this while he could as, once qualifying started to loom, he’d just start getting more and more nervous. He’d only been stood in the short queue of flyers for around two minutes before the flag waved, but it felt more like twenty as he took to the air and glided out on track, down the surprisingly steep hill the first corner and pit exit went over. The track itself was pretty wide, more than enough for three ponies to fly around it side by side and the racing line for the left turn one and long right turn two leant themselves to side by side racing as they flowed first down and then steadily back up. Turn three at the top of the next raise was a sharp left that immediately went down to a sharp right, followed by another left that quickly opened up to allow a flyer to accelerate quickly through it. The line was limited through those corners, but still giving enough room for a cheeky overtake. A short straight led to turn seven, which again had a short raise up to it and then onto the infamous turn eight, the four apex monster itself. As Concorde flew through it, without paying much notice to Ekstrom ahead, he started to wonder if it would even end before it finally opened up. From this point on, he knew he was weak. Another straight led to a ninety degree left that had a right immediately after it, allowing plenty of speed to be carried through. From there, it was a two long straights connected by a right hoof kink that could easily be taken at speed and with the width of the track, he’d find it next to impossible to defend against a faster flyer with his pokey top speed. The straight ended with a left hoof hair pin, something he could make time up in along with the ninety degree right and left that immediately followed it and led onto the start/finish straight. Two sections of high speed fun, followed by a section of pure pain for him. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be quite that bad and as Concorde started his first timed lap, he decided to compare his speed to Ekstrom ahead. He followed the more experienced racer around the track, losing about half a second to him before they reached the back straight. He propelled himself down the back straight as fast as he could behind Ekstrom. The pair seemed about equal until after the small right hoof kink, where Ekstrom started pulling away with slightly more speed than the Yorkshire stallion could muster. “What was the speed difference?” Concorde asked Maffett over his radio as he made his way through the last two corners. “Well, he was ninth fastest and you were nineteenth fastest that time around.” She answered. “Your cornering seems to make up for it though as your first lap puts you tenth.” “Righto. Let me know if anything important comes up.” “Got it. I’ll stick to the board.” She finished. Concorde preferred radio silence unless it was important during practice so he could focus. *** Concorde carried on lapping the track, putting in the eighth fastest time over twelve laps. Being practice, times meant very little as different ponies would be doing different things, such as race or qualifying preparations. His main concern remained the final sector of the lap over the long straights. He’d occasionally ask Maffett for comparisons of his sector times and his first and second sectors were frequently among the fastest, with the third sector letting him down massively. He had to improve his exit through turn eight in order to gain as much advantage as he could, or he’d be a sitting duck come the race. He propelled himself through turn eight on his latest lap, his eyes going from apex to apex as he approached each in turn before he shifted his view up the straight. He was nearly out of turn 8 when a sudden gust of wind hit his right wing and he went from turning left to flat spinning right. He landed on his belly as he span, sliding across the run off for the karts and coming to a halt in the gravel trap. “You ok, Corde?” Maffett asked. “I’m fine.” Concorde replied, looking up at the nearest wind sock as he got back to his hooves. The wind had picked up a lot since he glanced at it three corners prior. “Wind picking up?” “It’s pretty inconsistent at the moment with the occasional strong gust coming in from the west.” “Let’s hope that’s gone by Sunday.” Concorde mused as he took to the air again, checking over his shoulder for other racers before re-joining the track. Besides the low rolling hills the track was built on, there was very little protection for the elements. Whatever direction it came from, it would hit with full force and trying to fly into a head wind when he was already slow was going to make things even worse. He approached turn nine at a glide, planning on going into the pits at the end of the lap when Lightning Dust shot past. She took far too much speed into the corner and flew over the run off that also allowed her to cut the small turn ten. Concorde opted to drive out of turn nine as fast as possible and was close behind her as she re-joined the track. After her mistake, he was gaining on her but even before the high hoof kink, she was starting to pull away. Through the kink, they were about even on speed, but as soon as the track straightened up, Dust accelerated away and was long gone by the time they reached the hairpin at turn twelve. His heart sank slightly as he peeled off the track and into the pit entry. That was one of the fastest versus one of the slowest and in all honesty, he may as well have been stood still. He’d have to review some of her’s and Rainbow Dash’s rear facing camera footage to see if he could work something out to improve his speed, otherwise he would be in for a long, aggravating race.