Chapter 16 - The Need for Speed
I found myself all but prancing out to the mailbox outside the cottage. Today I was expecting a very important letter.
I’d spent a day or so in the hospital for observation before being released to heal up for a couple weeks. That had been a bit of a trying time, since I was forbidden from flying at all. My wing had apparently taken a serious knock, so any movement could potentially exacerbate the injury.
Something similar had happened to me back on Earth when I was in my early teens. I’d been riding my bike along the country roads, when I’d hit a patch of loose gravel, slid, and come off. In addition to tearing up my arm (I had a helmet on, but was wearing a t-shirt), I also busted my collar bone pretty badly. I spent about a month with my right arm in a sling. This was just as bad, if not worse though, when it was my wing. I was basically an earth pony for a few weeks, living on half pay from the patrol.
But before too long, my wing had healed, and Dr. Horse had cleared me as being fit to fly. He also asked that he not see me for the next year or two, this being the second time I’d been in his office for a fitness check. I took the jab in my stride and re-joined the others at the patrol.
With summer now well underway, our workload was beginning to ease off, aside from the odd rainsquall here and there. With six ponies on the patrol, our days were getting long and slow. In the end, Dash suggested that we try some extracurricular activity, and apply to the academy for advanced flight training.
Ah yes, Wonderbolt Academy. We had two of the institutions alumni in our midst; Dash, an active Wonderbolt, and Thunderlane, who was a reservist, but hoping to go full time like Dash. The academy was open to any pegasi who could pass the initial sift, and if successful, a graduate had the option to either apply to the reserves, or continue in their present role. It certainly looked good on the old CV in any case. And since there was not much happening in Ponyville, I decided to throw my hat in the ring, as did Dewdrop.
Flitter and Cloudchaser had tried twice before, but been rejected, and the academy operated on a ‘two strikes and out’ system. Plus, Dash needed somepony to stay and help with the light duties she had going.
If we got in, we’d be away for a week, staying at the academy barracks. In a sense it was a bit like Junior Speedsters flight camp, but obviously way more advanced. I remember my dad compared the place to the ‘Top Gun’ school the Americans had to train their fighter pilots in dogfighting.
Plus, if you think about it, my only real flight training was an informal course laid on by Dash. It would be better to have some official training under my belt too.
So, Dewdrop and I sent out our applications, all carefully checked over and done in our neatest writing. The academy only took the best of the best, so you needed to be experienced and have a lot of flying under your belt. To be honest, I wasn’t too sure we’d make it. But considering the number of incidents I could write about for the application, I guess my lack of years was made up for by experience.
As I trotted over the small brook to the mailbox, I felt myself grow nervous and excited. This was a bit like getting something back from a job application. Either it was another step in the right direction, or my hopes were about to be dashed.
The little flag was up on the mailbox, and looking inside I found three letters, two were for Fluttershy, and one was for me. My letter was postmarked Cloudsdale and bore the seal of the academy. I held the envelope in trembling hooves as I fluttered back to the cottage.
Passing Fluttershy’s letters to her, I walked over to the sofa and sat down as I opened the envelope. It was indeed from the academy. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the first word was ‘congratulations’. Reading further told me that I had passed their initial application process and would now be allowed to attend the academy in a fortnight’s time. I was ecstatic. Sure I had no intention of joining the ‘Bolts, but this advanced course would be a great boost to me.
Leaving Fluttershy, I quickly headed out and flew over to Dewdrop’s house on the other end of town.
I landed just in front of Dewdrop’s front door about five minutes later. I ended up almost walking straight into him. I went to knock on the door just as he opened it. It was only by quick reflexes that I stopped myself from rapping on his snout. Like me, he had an opened envelope in his hooves.
“Lizzie!” he said, after recovering himself and pulling me into a hug. “I was just about to come over to see you. I got my reply from Wonderbolt Academy.” I held up my own letter.
“Me too, Dewdrop,” I replied with a smile on my face. “So how did you do?” Dewdrop was smiling broadly as he showed me the letter.
“Well, looks like we’re both in,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s go down to Sugarcube Corner to celebrate.”
And so, after he’d locked up his house, the two of us headed off into town. Pinkie, who was behind the register at Sugarcube Corner, quickly caught on to what we were both smiling about. She congratulated us warmly and promised to write to us as much as possible while we were away, to assure us that we hadn’t been forgotten in Ponyville. I later learned that she did the same thing when Dash and Thunderlane went.
Sitting down to our snacks, the two of us talked about what it would be like.
“Dash told me a bit about the stuff they do there,” I said to Dewdrop as I bit into a slice of carrot cake. That Dizzitron thing looks to be worse than a centrifuge.” Dewdrop nodded.
“Yeah, I heard that even Wonderbolts break out into a cold sweat when they get in the thing.” Still, we would all have to survive it.
“You think Spitfire will be the instructor again?” I asked, referring to the long standing commander of the Wonderbolts.
“Her or Soarin,” Dewdrop replied. “I don’t think they’ve let Dash out amongst the rookies just yet. Hey, if we pass, do you think she’ll let us get away with calling her Crash?” I laughed.
“Nah, I’m fairly certain she’ll still tear you a new one for that, Dewdrop,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure that’s a ‘Bolts only thing.”
“What about how they’ll break us all up,” Dewdrop went on. “Think the two of us will get to be wingponies?” I smiled coyly at him.
“I’m more curious as to who’ll be lead and who’ll be wingpony,” I said with a teasing look. Dewdrop blushed up to his ears.
A week or so later, the two of us were off. We took a few things with us from home; toiletries and the like, but most of our kit, including our flight suits, would be provided by the academy. Dash wished us both well, as did my parents, who also showed up to see me off.
It was a fair flight to the academy, not too far from Wonderbolt HQ. In fact, we actually landed on HQ’s runway when we got there, following about a dozen or so other trainees. There was quite the collection of ponies from all over Equestria. And these were all supposed to be at the top of their game.
Touching down on the runway, we were quickly met by a grey pegasus, with dark glasses, moustache and a baseball hat bearing the Wonderbolts emblem. With a clipboard in his hooves, he asked us a few questions.
“Name?” he asked the two of us.
“Elisabeth,” I replied quickly.
“And I’m Dewdrop,” my coltfriend quickly followed.
The stallion looked down his clipboard and, with a pen, marked off our names with a nod.
“Okay,” he said gruffly. “Head on over to the quartermaster’s office to pick up your flight suits and passes. Then join the other cadets just off the runway. Don’t be late!” With that, he left us and went to see to another group of new arrivals.
Following his direction, we soon found ourselves at the quartermaster’s office. He gave us both a small photo ID card on a lanyard to put around our necks, and after checking our size, handed us our flight suits. These things were skin tight and covered you from head to tail. The only part left exposed, unlike the real ‘Bolts flight suit, was our faces. We were also given a pair of goggles to wear. Our own weather patrol issue were deemed insufficient. We quickly changed into our new attire. They were apparently fitted with all sorts of special kit to help keep us from blacking out during high-G manoeuvres. They were also very, very tight, and a challenge to get into. I’m not sure if it was intended by the designers, but they did show off the curves and muscles of anypony who wore them. Dewdrop certainly cleaned up nicely, and I caught him eyeing me too once or twice.
Having stowed all our kit in our lockers back in the barracks, the two of us headed back to the runway and joined the other cadets who were milling around. We were the only ones from Ponyville, but there flyers from Manehatten and Baltimare, Vanhoover, Las Pegasus, Cloudsdale, Trottingham, and even the Griffon Kingdom.
We chatted with a few. They were all fairly friendly, if a bit competitive. But then, you had to be to get here, didn’t you? We were just starting to settle and wondering where our instructors were, when a whistle blew and we were all ordered to stand at attention. We quickly lined up.
There was no mistaking the raspy voice, or that shock of a red and gold mane. Spitfire had arrived, and she was joined by a few more instructors. She wore her Wonderbolt dress blues and had a pair of aviator's shades on, a look that brokered no argument.
“Alright, good morning, everypony,” she began. “I trust you all recognise me, so I’ll be brief. Welcome to Wonderbolt Academy. You are the top ten percent of all weather pegasi; the elite, the best of the best. Well, we’re gonna make you better. Here you will be trained in the principles and practices of advanced flight manoeuvres. It will be more challenging than anything you’ve done before. By the time you graduate, I expect that there’ll be far fewer faces than there are now.
“You will be under constant assessment; two flights each day, classes in between, and evaluations of your performance. We assign points based on that performance. If you do well enough, and acquire enough points, you will have the option to apply to the Wonderbolt Reserves, and maybe someday even wear this uniform.
“To start with, you’ll be broken up into teams of two; a lead pony and wing pony. You’ll work together through the course. When your name is called, step forward.” Another pegasus stallion now began to call out names.
“Clear Skies!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Partner with Moon Tracer.”
“Ice Storm!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Partner with Applewood.”
“Maverick!” My ears perked up at that one.
“Yes, sir!”
“Partner with Goose.” I had to really work to stop myself laughing. The list went on and on until my name came up.
“Elisabeth!” the pegasus called out, sounding a little perplexed at my not so Equestrian name.
“Yes, sir!” I called back, stepping forward.
“Partner with Dewdrop.” I resisted the urge to cheer. It would have sucked to be partnered with somepony else. To my surprise though, like Dash before me, I was handed the badge of a wingpony. Dewdrop was apparently to lead.
Now suitably paired up, we were all lined up again. Spitfire was there, her aviator shades making her face difficult to read, but I could feel her watching all of us closely.
“Alright,” she began. “Now that you’re paired up, we can start your training. I leave you with this friendly warning. This school is about precision; there are no points for second place.”
With that, Spitfire withdrew. While she did often take part in academy classes, as the CO of the ‘Bolts, she couldn’t handle everything. We were instead, as a class, passed off to other training staff. The most senior of these was the stallion who had greeted Dewdrop and I when we arrived, and whose name was Jester.
“Alright gentlecolts, we have a hop to take,” he declared. “To start with, we’ll be practicing the speed course. Fly five hundred laps around the track as fast as possible and then return here. The clock is ticking and as of now, we are keeping score.”
That pretty much set the tone for the day. Five hundred laps around the track was more than enough to wear most ponies out and took more than a fair amount of time. Dewdrop and I acquitted ourselves pretty well. We weren’t the fastest by any means, but we did do well enough to hold our own and come out in the top ten. Like I said before, unlike some of the cadets here, I had no interest in a future career with the Wonderbolts. I’m not afraid to admit it; I’m just not that good. Sure I can fly, but not at that level. For Celestia’s sake, the ‘Bolts push even Dash to near her absolute limit.
We ended up finishing the course in the top ten, which I was more than happy with. More than a few ponies had run themselves ragged and been forced on by the instructors when they tried to ease up.
In the evening, we all had dinner in the mess hall together. I guess the academy really does try to get you into the somewhat military mind-set of the Wonderbolts. They are a military organisation after all. After that, given as how it was our first day, and effectively a half day, we were all dismissed to rest up and get ready for tomorrow.
Dewdrop and I, along with most of the other cadets, welcomed the brief respite. The combination of the hard course, the baking sun, and the flight suits that had barely any breathing room, had left us sweating like pigs. A shower and a good night’s rest was just what the doctor ordered.
Of course, we didn’t get that. Much to our collective dismay, reveille came at half four in the morning. We were unceremoniously turned out of our bunks and made to line up on the parade ground in the dark. Luna’s moon still hung low in the sky, and only the faintest hints of the coming dawn were visible on the eastern horizon.
After being made to do PT exercises, we were all bustled into a lecture hall to start the coursework phase of the training. This I actually found quite interesting. If you want to be a good flyer, you need to understand the theory first. We examined methods of improving our turning radius and a trick known as the Wonderbolt Flick. In short, you banked left and then kicked out with your right leg. This was like crossing the controls in a plane and essentially made you skid through the sky for a few seconds, giving you time to react to an obstacle.
We were then marched out into the now bright morning sunshine for one of the less pleasant test; the Dizzitron. Even seasoned Wonderbolts fear and hate that contraption. It’s designed to simulate going into a flat spin. That’s one of the worst things that can happen to a pegasus.
A flat spin is when an aircraft goes into a spin, but stays on an even keel; sort of like a Frisbee. The result being that you quickly lose height. The flat spin is typically unrecoverable unless you have enough height to play with. Worse still, the extreme g-forces acting on you make it hard to apply the proper recovery procedure, hence its infamous reputation. The only way to get out was to push yourself into a dive, so you can get air flowing over your wings again.
Dewdrop and I watched as one by one, cadets were put through the Dizzitron. We all had time to reflect on the fact that, despite being called a simulator, nothing about this exercise was simulated.
Ponies had died doing it.
Eventually, Dewdrop’s turn came up. Climbing into the seat, he was strapped in and soon set off. The machine rotated him first around its axis, and then began to rotate his seat in order to induce the spin. Then, at the right moment, the restraints were released and Dewdrop was sent spinning off into the wild blue yonder. Like many cadets, he was screaming all the way.
I watched for several tense seconds as Dewdrop continued to spin, his wings struggling to fight against the G forces. Before long though, he managed to recover. Forcing his body weight forward, he began to pitch over into a dive. A little while after that, he recovered and performed a passable landing, considering that for him the world was probably still spinning.
Now it was my turn.
Walking up the steps to the seat, I felt my knees shaking. My heart beat faster in my chest. I felt that nagging urge to just turn and run. You could hardly blame me now, could you? This contraption was genuinely lethal, and here I was about to strap myself into it and put myself in one of the worst situations a pegasus can face in the air.
But there was no way I could turn around and give up. This was vital practice. Celestia forbid it, but I could end up in a flat spin for real one day. Better to practice now, with plenty of sky, than when I only had a couple hundred feet.
Swallowing my fear as best I could, I let myself be strapped in. The training officer checked everything was right and gave me a few words of encouragement.
“Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “It’s not as bad as you think. We’ve all done it, so can you.”
With that, he pulled the lever and activated the Dizzitron. I began to go up and down as the arm that I was attached to began to rotate. A few moments after I’d adjusted to that, the platform I was connected to started to turn as well, in the opposite direction. The speed of both was fairly slow, but I was already struggling to tell up from down.
Steadily, it got faster and faster. Ground and sky turned into one continuous blur. I felt the gravitational forces pushing me back into the backrest behind me. The wind rushed around me and a tried reflexively to open my wings and level off. They however, were presently bound by the straps. Suddenly, I heard the word of command.
“Release!”
All at once, the straps that had pinned me down let go. I found myself flung forward and away from the Dizzitron and the other cadets. My spin soon transitioned into a flat one, and my eyes were fixed onto the horizon. But the world was still barely in focus; simply a blur of colour. Try as I might, I could hardly move my wings. They were open now, but I couldn’t feel any air flowing over them.
I knew what I needed to do; lean forward. Forcing my centre of gravity ahead of me would push my into a dive and let me recover. But everything was just so heavy. It was an effort to even lift one foreleg! Still, I strained desperately. After all, I needed to recover. I pushed my head as far forward as I could, stuck out my two forelegs and tucked my hind legs under me. All the while my eyes streamed, my stomach did somersaults and I felt as though at any moment I’d lose my lunch.
Then slowly, degree by degree, I began to change my attitude. I began to see more of the ground and less of the sky. And then, in one sudden motion, I pitched down into a sharp dive. I went from spinning to an almost dead vertical dive. Exhausted, I forced my wings to work and pulled myself up. The world was still spinning as I tried to level off and stay there. At least I was out of the woods.
At a rough guess, I’d say I plummeted the better part of a thousand feet in a little under half a minute. I know I had to climb a little to get back to the runway. My landing would be an insult to my usual self, but I was just grateful to get down again. Doing what Dash termed ‘combat landings’ where you kept your forward momentum instead of hovering, I skipped a couple times before touching down and quite literally belly flopping on the runway.
Two medical corpsponies were there to greet me and helped me back on my feet. Dewdrop was there too, having been given the all clear after his own bumpy landing. I don’t think I’d ever hugged him quite so hard until then. It was certainly the first time he started hammering on my back, begging for air.
After all the other cadets had done their run, luckily with no incidents, although there were a couple who had the SAR ponies follow them down, just in case, we were told of our recovery times. I managed a respectable nineteen point six seconds, far behind RD’s twelve. Dewdrop however, pipped me at the post with a time of nineteen point two.
I guess they had good reason for making him lead pony.
The rest of that day was spent again in the classroom. This time we had the honour of having Soarin as our instructor. He went over our individual performance in the Dizzitron and highlighted possible improvements we could all make, as well as looking at other methods of recovering from various kinds of stalls, all of which were possible during formation flying. Of the supposed ‘unrecoverable’ stall, he said recovery from a flat spin was not impossible, merely very difficult.
At the end of the lecture, which again gave me a few new insights, he went on to explain what would be happening tomorrow.
“Right,” Soarin said as he packed away his lecture notes. “I’ll see you all in the morning for your next hop. We’re trying something a little different this year. You’ll still be flying in pairs; lead pony and wingpony, but the exercise will be something more than just capture the flag.
“In light of recent threats to the safety of Equestria, the Wonderbolts are looking to expand their combat capability. And so, tomorrow we will be looking ACM; air combat manoeuvring. You all might know it as ‘dogfighting’. Each element will go up and be pursued by two instructors. Your objective is to tag your opponent by physically touching them, to simulate using wing mounted blades. Do your best; we expect nothing less. Dismissed.”
We all filed out to enjoy what we could of our downtime. Still, tomorrow seemed to promise a bit of excitement. I found myself thinking again of my Great uncle Algernon and tried to recall some of the tactics the old RFC pilots used.
Once again, we were up and about at a very early hour, although this time we were a little more prepared. Our instructors quickly split us up into our two ship flights. Dewdrop and I would be one of the first flights of the day and going up against two of the instructors who’d been doing this sort of thing for years.
Obviously, this exercise would take place well away from the main base, out in the open sky. However, there was an effective arena set up. We could only fly five miles in each direction, and there was a hard deck (basically if you go below that altitude, you aren’t allowed to keep going with the exercise) of two thousand feet. As there was traffic below the academy, it wasn’t safe to be tail chasing and risking a crash.
The two of us took off from the runway a little while after breakfast. Dewdrop, being the lead pony, was in front. I on the other hoof was off his port wing and a little behind, providing cover. We soon arrived at the training area and found Jester, who would be one of the instructors we’d be up against.
“Morning, cadets,” he said as we drew alongside him. “Looks like you’ve drawn the black marble.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Dewdrop asked. Jester pointed to our right. Our other opponent was just pulling alongside. I recognised him instantly in his Wonderbolt flight suit.
“Good morning, rookies,” Soarin said with a wave. “I’ll try to go easy on you.” With that, he and Jester both banked away, leaving us stunned.
“Horseapples!” Dewdrop exclaimed. “We’re going up against Jester and Soarin?!” I tried to reassure him.
“Relax, Dewdrop. He’s probably saying ‘Sweet Celestia. It’s Lizzie and Dewdrop!’.” Dewdrop barked a short laugh.
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s saying that. Okay, how do you want to do this?” I shrugged.
“You’re lead, Dewdrop,” I replied. “I’ll stick to you like glue and keep you covered. If we can stay together we should stand a chance.” He nodded in agreement.
“Alright then. Let’s both get some height; make it harder for them to get the drop on us.”
The two of us quickly began to climb in a cruise to keep our speed up. I’d been thinking last night and talked with Dewdrop about how we might play this. Back in its day, the RFC had more than a few rules for dogfighting. Most of it actually came from the Germans. One particular set of rules was the so-called ‘Dicta Boelcke’ created by a German ace of the same name.
We were already following the first rule; ‘Try to secure the upper hand before attacking. If possible, keep the sun behind you’. We were climbing to get above our opponents and could then adjust our course to come at them from out of the sun. We’d also follow the fifth rule; ‘In any type of attack it is essential to assail your opponent from behind’.
The second rule was just as important though; ‘Always continue with an attack you have begun’. Turning away due to fear or the perception that you were losing just exposed your rear end to the enemy. This somewhat fed into the third rule to only engage at very close range. We had no choice about that, since we were fighting with blades rather than twin Vickers.
Right now though, we needed to focus on rule number four; ‘You should always try to keep your eye on your opponent and never let yourself be deceived by ruses’. We’d somewhat screwed that up, as we’d lost sight of Soarin and Jester when they broke away. Right now we were keeping our heads on a swivel and trying to pick them out before they spotted us.
After levelling off near the top of the arena, we tried to pick out our two foes. I quickly managed to spot something moving far below us; it was Jester, skimming along on his own.
“What do you think, Dewdrop?” I asked. Dewdrop frowned in thought.
“I don’t like it,” he replied. “Looks like a trap to me.”
“Maybe we can use that to our advantage,” I suggested, an idea forming in my head.
“What do you mean?”
“If we go down after Jester, then Soarin will probably pop out from somewhere and try to get us from behind. He’ll expect us to try and dive away, but we’ll do the opposite. When he attacks, we turn and attack him, then circle back for Jester. It will throw him off and put them on the defensive.”
It was a sound strategy, and another of Boelcke’s rules; ‘If an opponent dives on you, do not try to get around his attack, but fly to meet it’. Better to turn on him, even if it meant giving up speed for height, then try to outrun a Wonderbolt while showing our tails. After considering it for a moment, Dewdrop nodded in agreement.
“Alright then, we’ll try it,” he said. “Tally ho, bandit at ten o’clock low!”
We both pitched over into a dive, quickly picking up speed. We’d need it for when we had to turn on Soarin.
Jester was flying straight and level, something no skilled flyer would ever do in combat. It reinforced my belief that we were being baited. A few seconds before we drew level, he looked up and spotted us. Putting on a burst of speed, he dived, presumably trying to fly out of bounds. We however, had the speed advantage and quickly drew level. Dewdrop reached out with a wingtip and tagged Jester on the back.
“Jester’s dead!” Dewdrop proclaimed with no small amount of glee.
I pulled alongside him as well, keeping my eye on the sky above. Still though there was no sign of Soarin.
Suddenly though, the sunlight went, and I felt a gentle touch on my spine. Almost in my ear, I heard a voice.
“Bingo! Lizzie’s dead. You’re out of there, kid.”
To my astonishment, not two feet above me, flying inverted no less, was Soarin, wearing a shit eating grin on his face. Where the hay did he come from? I’d been scanning the sky above us very carefully. Soarin rolled level and settled into a station alongside me and Dewdrop, who he’d also caught.
“Good idea keeping an eye on the sky above you, cadet,” he said with some praise. “But did you think to consider the sky below you?”
Dammit! He must have been somewhere below Jester. We both saw the one pegasus and got fixated on him, assuming Soarin would ambush us from above. Instead, while I’d been looking up, he’d been quietly creeping in from below. I turned to Dewdrop, who had a rueful look on his face.
"The Ministry of Meteorological Affairs regrets to inform you your kids are dead because they were stupid," I said, more to myself than anypony else.
“Well, at least we got Jester,” Dewdop said in an effort to soften the blow.
We followed Soarin back to the academy and touched down on the runway. It seemed that, aside from Ice Storm and his wingpony, nopony had fared much better than us. Most hadn’t managed to bag either of their opponents. So, Dewdrop and I decided that, while we may not have been entirely successful, we’d still broken somewhat even.
The final test before our points were all tallied up was the famous Wonderbolt obstacle course. Now, I had my own little set up around Ponyville I used to practice on whenever I had the chance, but this was something else. There were hard turns, tight spaces; no room for error at all. And that was before you factored in the heavy crosswinds and driving rain that also covered parts of the course.
The final test then, would be something of a race to see who could post the fastest time. All of our groups lined up at the start. Before we started though, Dewdrop turned to me.
“Lizzie,” he said quietly, so that only I could hear. “I want you to be lead pony on this one.” I turned to look at him, a confused look on my face.
“What? Why?” I asked. “You’re lead pony, Dewdrop.” Dewdrop however, shook his head.
“If that last exercise had been real, I’d have got us both killed.” I rolled my eyes.
“Dewdrop, I missed Soarin too, and I was supposed to be the one covering you. If anypony should get the blame for that, it’s me.” Dewdrop’s ears flattened against his skull.
“You’ve got way more experience at this, Lizzie,” he said. If I’m on point, I might screw up again.”
Now I saw what was going on. Despite the fact that we were almost expected to fail the exercise, Dewdrop’s confidence had been knocked for six. I could just take the lead as he asked me, but that would probably be a bad idea. He was still new to the patrol, but he needed to learn to trust himself. I’d gone through something similar in my first year.
As I was trying to think of a suitable response, something my brother once said (although he was quoting someone else) popped into my mind. It seemed fitting. And hey, it worked on me.
“Yes, Dewdrop, you might screw up,” I said. “But that doesn’t let you step down from being lead pony. I’ll be on your wing.”
Dewdrop’s brow furrowed in thought. I was getting through to him. Placing a comforting wing on his shoulder, I smiled at him.
“Dewdrop,” I said kindly. “It is possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. That isn’t a weakness; that’s just life.”
Before either of us could say anything else, the starting whistle blew, and we were off. Dewdrop flew lead.
We ended up doing quite well. As I’ve already said, we didn’t have ambitions about coming out on top. Still, we did quite well for ourselves. We had gotten enough points to graduate from the academy. As a result of that, we now had ‘advanced flight training’ markings on our records and we were authorised to take on more difficult work. We even had the option, if we wanted it, to go and apply to the Wonderbolt Reserves. I knew Thunderlane had gone and done that, hoping to follow in Dash’s hoofprints next time they opened the books.
The two of us though were quite happy with weather work, thank you very much. Besides, who knows; maybe in a few years, I’ll be able to nab Flight’s spot, or maybe even take over the patrol. I could certainly take my sergeants examination if I wanted it. If Thunderlane decided to leave, I could potentially step into his horseshoes.
Dewdrop too had benefitted from the experience. Like me, he was more looking for promotion than entry into the ‘Bolts. But along with the certification, he’d also gained a great deal of confidence in himself. When he’d first started, he’d been shy and ever the follower. Now though, Dash was frequently assigning him long range patrols or solo assignments. Nopony would need to hold his hoof anymore.
We did end up staying one extra day at the academy though. After the race, it seemed that Maverick and his wing pony Goose, decided to have a bit of a laugh to celebrate their high placing. One high speed, low altitude pass over the academy later, and there was a heck of a mess to clear up.
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It's obligatory to turn on some Kenny Loggins when reading this.
Do you have another story planned for these characters?
Thunderstruck came up when I started reading the 'dog fight' scene, and spoiling for a fight while reading the author's notes. Random chance, or signs of things to come?
Who cares?! I can't wait for next week!
... my poor eardrums.
8679847 I first want to do a substantial rewrite of 'My Family and Other Equestrians'. I then may write one more story focused on Bones, depending on how long we have before the show ends.
8679797 I had this playing as I was writing, even if the dogfight scene is more Biggles than Top Gun.
*PROCEED TO LANDING SEQUENCE*
8681130
Que the AVGN ragefit.
Well done, and the built in Top Gun nmaes were awesome!
a grate chapter with some vary good references i remember going to the theater to see top gun.
i can see Lizzy and Dewdrop making a good paring for the weather team.
I thought the weather patrol was already using nicknames. and rainbow''s was crash.