> Neighcaraguan Nights
>  by Prolet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: The Sea at Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cast nervous glances at the pair of motorboats escorting the ship – both of them had mounted machine guns, along with a couple of grim-looking stallions, clad in brown uniforms. The bright rays of the sun made the sea hard to watch, and soon, I had to turn my eyes away from the sight and step back. My stomach twisted in protest, almost making me lean on the side rail again. The medicine for seasickness seemed to be helping, but only barely.
 
Backing away from the rail, I fluttered my wings to cool myself off. Days at these latitudes were hot – really hot – and I’d have to get used to that in short order. At least the green marbles near the horizon offered some comfort; however hot the weather was, the lush jungles and beautiful palm gardens of Neighcaragua would be there, unmoved by the terrible heat wave.
 
“Miss Scootaloo!”

I turned around and saw Coal Fire, one of the more prominent servants on the cruise, approaching me. He was a quite unremarkable stallion with whom I’d talked a couple of times. Behind him rose the tall pipes of the ship, thick, dark smoke billowing up from them.
 
“Well?”
 
Coal Fire gave me a polite smile. “I take it Miss Scootaloo has some free time in the evening? The captain would like to have her for company during the evening dan –“
 
“Oh, please, Coal, don’t talk to me like that,” I said, annoyed by the stallion’s behavior. “You don’t need to call me ‘Miss’. And if once again hear you talking to me like I wasn’t there, then, I swear by Celestia’s name, I will throw up. Not that I wouldn’t do that in any case…”
 
Coal grinned, but I saw sweat running down his forehead. “Uhm… right… Scootaloo. But like I said, the captain wants to talk to you during the dances. Well, he wants you to sit at the same table with him, at least. You see, there will be numerous important ponies like Midnight Star, Filthy Rich, Black –“
 
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I interrupted again, dismissing the hoof that Coal raised in protest. “I don’t care who’ll be there. This close to the championships, I just can’t slip from my training schedule. Sorry.”
 
“Eh…” Coal gave me a look of disbelief. “How can one practice racing on a ship? I know there are some cars down there, but they are tightly guarded and everything. And if you somehow managed to get a hold of your racing car, I have no idea how you’d do any… practicing with it. Without tearing the ship apart, I mean.” Coal raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Miss Scootaloo.”
 
I sighed. “You can’t be that stupid, Coal. I won’t be needing a car for push-ups and my other physical training. Do you think an unfit pony could drive a car two hundred miles per hour?”
 
“Of course not.”
 
“Good. Now that we have an understanding –“
 
“But the captain insists, Scootaloo,” told Coal with an irritated voice, rolling his eyes. “Just be there. You know very well that the captain is associated with the government, and can revoke your championships license at any time. I’m sorry if it comes to that, but… just please don’t shoot the messenger, alright?”
 
“Uh…” I bit my lip, staring at Coal. What’s gotten into you? He’s not a bad stallion. “I’m sorry for being rude.”
 
Coal shrugged. “Sure. Apology accepted.” With that, he walked away, vanishing into the small crowds of talking ponies. Most of them had all kinds of fancy dresses and jewelry on them – taking the temperature into account, I considered wearing any clothes at all pretty ridiculous, but I wouldn’t be one to complain. Shaking my head at the “glamorous” ponies, I made my way through them, evoking some classy gasps. With no reason to apologize, I walked inside the ship through a carefully decorated double-door in the otherwise white wall. All of the decorations and the fancy sofas lining the walls of the entrance hall failed to fascinate me – I’d seen them many times before.
 

**

 
I poured a couple of green pills in my hoof, threw them into my mouth, and swallowed hard. The feeling of the pills pushing down my throat was unpleasant, but I couldn’t risk losing the contents of my stomach in front of the captain, let alone all the other eye-catching ponies who’d doubtlessly sit at the same table. Thankfully, my face looked at least decent in the bathroom mirror. Why did I put that make-up on? A racer needs none of that.
 
Just in case... just in case. This is a pretty fine cruise, after all.

A knock on my luxurious cabin’s door made me jump. I trod out of the bathroom, trying to keep myself calm. Of course I’d already been in my share of high-class parties, but I still managed to feel like a stranger at times. I opened the door and saw a blue mare wearing a servant’s dress. “Frau Scootaloo?” she asked politely with a Germaneigh accent, bowing the tiniest bit.
 
“Yeah, it’s me. I assume you’re here to lead me to the ballroom?”
 
The mare nodded. “Ah, yes, Frau. If you’d allow me to show the way, I’d be glad. Your fame runs before you.”
 
I felt taken by the mare’s recognition, but my smile faltered when I realized that she’d likely just been informed of my status and had been ordered to speak it out. “Sure, Miss…”
 
“Suppe.” The mare gave me a grin that looked so earnest that I cracked one myself. Apparently, this one was one of the true fans instead of a mindless boot-licker. “Now, if you’d allow me to…?”
 
“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”
 
Suppe led me through the freshly painted, exotically decorated hallways, blabbering about my accomplishments. At times, I couldn’t help but blush – even though I was used to compliments, it felt strange to be adored like that. Now you know what Rainbow Dash must have felt like… though she probably enjoyed all of it.
 
Eventually, we arrived at the ballroom. It was even more decorated than the entrance, which was saying a lot. Silvery candelabras hung from the ceiling, casting a soft light from their electrical lamps. Ponies in fancy dresses and tuxedos were sitting by large tables covered by the finest of laces, and even the chairs had ornaments. In the back of the huge room was a stage, currently hidden by red curtains.
 
“Frau Scootaloo? The table’s this way,” said Suppe, pointing at a round table near the stage. Some ponies were already sitting around it. Even from this far, I could recognize the captain, a brown earth pony famous for his massive moustache. His cutie mark, two swords crossed over a compass, was somewhat unnerving, and his exotic name, Richtig Kurs, didn’t help with that. “Would you allow me to…?”
 
“Nah. I can walk there by myself. Thanks for the offer, though.” Suppe nodded and walked into the crowd. Why can’t there be more servants like her?
 
As I made my way to the table, my mouth fell agape. Sitting next to the captain was a  dark green, brown-maned pegasus with a checkered flag for his cutie mark – in seconds, I recognized him as Piers Vite, my long-time rival. He grinned menacingly as I sat down on the other side. “Well, well, if it isn’t Scootaloo. Do you really think you have a chance?”
 
I cast an angry frown at Piers, trying to contain my anger at least somewhat to avoid upsetting the others. “Piers. I should’ve known you’d be here for the race. You know full well that I’m faster than you. No question about it.”
 
“Sure, you are.” Piers shrugged. “If you crash your most humble competitors out of the race, you’ll undoubtedly be the first to cross the finish line.”
 
“It was an accident!”
 
The captain rose up from his seat, raising his hoof in the air. “Aber meine Fraue! I remember very well what happened – or what probably didn’t. Zee rain was so hard zhat I could barely see zee next row of zee stand. In such conditions, anything could happen.”
 
Both Piers and I turned our gazes at Richtig, who simply smiled in response. “You were there?” I finally muttered out. “At last year’s Le Trod twenty-four hour drive?”
 
“Zhat is true. Nur, if meine Frauen could please leave their arguments for another time, I would be most pleased. We have some time to chat and dine before zee main event begins. There’ll be music and tantz, hopefully in good order.”  Richtig smirked. “And I promise zhat zee weather will be much better here in Neighcaragua than in Prance. Or in Equestria, for zhat matter.”
 
Piers’s and my argument descended into mortifying looks and snide remarks at each other, but were we not surrounded by all kinds of important ponies, we’d likely have been in a hoof-fight after minutes. Our rivalry had deep roots, but our crash while struggling for the victory of last year’s Le Trod had truly ignited it. I knew he’d been the cause of it, but as nopony else besides us had clearly seen what had happened, I had no means to prove it. When we had entered a tight corner side-by-side, I’d simply lost control of my car on the wet track, and crashed into Piers, who’d been trying to overtake me from the outside like a madpony. There was nothing else to it.
 
Time passed slowly as I was forced to introduce myself to a plethora of ponies. After boring myself to death by talking about the weather with a bunch of Canterlotian aristocrats, Filthy Rich poked my shoulder, giving a knowing look. “Bored?”
 
“You bet your flank I am.” I kept taking annoyed glances at all the fancy ponies. “What brings you here, Filthy? Some good deals?” I’d known Filthy Rich for a while, and he’d finally, just a few months ago, told that he was comfortable with me calling him Filthy. It was his first name, after all.
 
Filthy nodded. “Yup. With all… that… stuff going on in Neighcaragua, I’m looking to close some big deals with the government. You must have noticed the motorboats escorting this ship – they’re all made by Rich Industries.”
 
“Profiting of other ponies’ misery? Nothing new, I guess. And no offense.”
 
“None taken,” replied Filthy, smirking. “You’ve gotta be there when the time is right. Misery is surprisingly profitable, and seeing how things are going in Equestria, my businesses really need that… misery.”
 
“You know, Filthy, you sound like you’ve lost even the tiny bits of morality you used to have,” I said, only half-joking. “Is Diamond still mad at you?”
 
Filthy frowned, biting his lip. “Ehm… let’s not talk about that, Scootaloo. It’s been some time since I last saw her.”
 
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
 
Uncomfortable about me bringing up Diamond, Filthy turned his attention back to the other ponies, leaving me, once again, alone with my thoughts. I was constantly asked questions about the upcoming race and my stay in Neighcaragua, but I answered them bluntly. The captain had insisted on me being here with all the other famous ponies, but if he wanted me to enjoy myself, he’d be disappointed.
 
The food arrived just in time to prevent me from grunting out something I would’ve regretted. A servant levitated a silver platter full of all kinds of exotic fruits in front of me, making me gasp. Finally. It didn’t take long for me to fill myself, even with the awkward fork. Never had I understood why the high-class ponies couldn’t just eat with their muzzles like normal ponies, and partaking in their weird manners always made me feel a pang in my chest. However, it had already become such a habit that, even when I ate alone, I sometimes used cutlery.
 
Richtig rose up, ringing his glass with a spoon. Everypony fell silent in an instant, turning their heads toward him. “Nur zhat we’re getting started, let us hear some music! Ladies and gentlecolts, allow me to introduce zee pride of Equestria and Neighcaragua, zee pearl of Meerperl, Sweetie Belle!”
 
What?
 
My mouth hung open as the curtains were drawn to the sides by a couple of servants, revealing Sweetie Belle in front of several other mares, who all held instruments in their hooves. Sweetie kneeled, and then took the microphone in her hooves, starting a song right away. It had been two years since I’d heard her amazing voice from this close, and it certainly hadn’t grown old. As the band joined her, I was left staring at her small, graceful moves on the stage. The lyrics were some typical musings about Canterlotian cafés, and thus, I didn’t pay much attention to them, focusing on Sweetie’s soft and clear voice instead.
 
Eventually, Sweetie’s eyes met mine, her voice missing a note only to find it again a second later. I smiled to Sweetie, and she smiled back. It had been a while, and I knew that we’d have time to catch up with each other after the show. Of course, with both of us being celebrities, we usually knew where the other was, but I hadn’t expected Sweetie to be here, on this ship. Well, you should have. She’s lived in Meerperl for a while, after all, and must sometimes return home. First Piers, now Sweetie. Who next, Rainbow Dash?
 
The song switched to another, slower one, and the first ponies rose from their seats and walked to the small dance floor in front of the stage. I stayed in my place. Dancing, especially with ponies I barely knew, wasn’t my piece of cake. Every now and then, I cast glances at Sweetie, who sometimes returned them, giving me a wink each time. I felt fuzzy inside. At least one friend would be there to cheer for me during the races, unless Sweetie had some concert booked at the same time, what I doubted. It would be a wonder if Filthy’s schedule wasn’t full of business lunches, so I certainly couldn’t count on him being there, even if he cared how much the sponsor logos on my car were visible.
 
A glass of champagne was delivered to me, and I happily accepted it. With most of the ponies already on the dance floor, I could enjoy the drink by myself, savoring its peculiar taste and the swinging voice of Sweetie. As I sat idly, I noticed a unicorn wearing a tuxedo approach Richtig. He put his mouth next to his head, and I saw the stallion’s lips moving. Richtig gave him a worried look, and then whispered something back. They traded a few more silent words before Richtig rose up and followed the unicorn through a wooden door in the back of the room.
 
I pondered what was going on, but couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t possible that the ship would be assaulted by some ragtag rebels, after all... with all those escorts, something like that would simply be impossible. Filthy poked me again, pointing at the door with his other hoof. “Did you see that, Scootaloo? Something must be going on.”
 
“Yeah, sure did. And I figured out that much.” I glanced at the door Richtig had gone through. “I wonder what’s –“
 
The unicorn in the tuxedo walked onto the stage from its back, and whispered something into Sweetie’s ear. She immediately stopped singing, a puzzled look on her face. Ponies on the dance floor traded nervous looks when Richtig walked onto the stage. He took the microphone in his hooves, taking measuring looks at the crowd. “Ladies and gentlecolts, I’m most sorry for zhis interruption,” he started with a dead-serious voice. “We have ein problem. I must ask you to stand in place while my trusted men investigate you. If you have not partaken in any… gefährlich activity, you have nothing to fear of. Zhis is simply an investigation, for your own safety, and zee safety of zee Neighcaraguan State.”
 
Several shouts of protest rang out, but Richtig didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m afraid we have smugglers on-board.”
 
A couple of tuxedo-clad unicorns, much like the one accompanying Richtig, walked in from the double doors of the entrance. They made their way to the crowd and started rummaging through the dresses of ponies, eliciting surprised gasps. Everypony stood in place, waiting for their turn. Any protest was met with force, and soon, nobody was resisting.
 
It didn’t take long for the unicorns to go through the crowd. When one approached the table where I and Filthy were still sitting, I rose up, nodding. The unicorn kept his face stoic, running his hooves over my body. His touch was uncomfortably strong, but I kept my mouth shut. As he noticed I didn’t have anything on me, the unicorn walked over to Filthy, doing the same search. But as he ran his hoof over Filthy’s side, he locked up for a second.
 
The unicorn’s horn flashed with an intense, blue light, making me cover my eyes. “Stop!” I could hear Filthy shout. “I have a fucking permit for –“ I took my hooves off my eyes. My heart raced as the unicorn wrestled Filthy down, putting two pairs of magical hoofcuffs on him. “Fucking –“ The unicorn hit Filthy in the head, making him fall down with a thud. I frowned as the unicorn summoned a glowing rope.
 
“Put it down, Rasend!” exclaimed another guard, running to the scene. Rasend gave him a questioning look, but complied as the other guard lit up his horn, removing the cuffs from Filthy’s hooves.
 
“What… what…” mumbled Filthy as he rose up, rubbing his head. “I have a permit, Celestia-damnit!”
 
“Let me see it, bitte.”
 
Filthy stared sternly at the guard. “Don’t you know who I am, idiot?”
 
The guard glared back at him just as sternly. “I do. But zhis is zee custom. Just show it so we can get over with zhis, hm? Surely your ego can’t be zhat big, Mister Rich.”
 
“I… nngh…” Filthy frowned, but took out a laminated piece of paper from the pockets of his now-worn tuxedo. “Here. And you better give it back and apologize before I buy this ship and fire all of you. Can’t ever trust Neighies to have any sort of manners…”
 
If the scene hadn’t been so serious, I would probably have burst out laughing – the guard somehow managed to keep his face completely stoic while Filthy insulted him. He examined the piece of paper carefully and nodded. “Everything seems to be satisfactory. Sorry for zee inconvenience, Mister Ri –”
 
“You bet your fucking flank that –“
 
“– but if you continue to disrupt zee peace, we have no choice but to lock you up.” The unicorn smirked at Filthy, who had a look of disbelief plastered on his face. “Press zee issue, and a case will be put up against you. But for now, have a good evening.” The guard walked next to another pony, and motioned for the others to continue. The room was dead silent as the remaining ponies were checked.
 
Finally, the situation was over, and ponies returned to their seats, leaving the dance floor empty. Sweetie and the band had left the stage. Richtig was nowhere to be seen.
 
“What a piece of shit. That guard, I mean,” said Filthy. He had sat next to me. “One would think that a pony of my status would get special treatment. I suppose they don’t give a shit about their nation’s safety, after all.”
 
I snorted. “Or perhaps you could’ve let your arrogance down for a moment?”
 
“Bullshit. I have every right to be arrogant. Besides, he just assaulted me right after feeling my revolver.” Filthy touched his right side, where a slight bulge revealed the presence of the hidden gun. “Besides, it’s not like I could even hit shit with this ass-cracker.”
 
“Right. Do you realize how hypocritical you sounded when demanding them to have manners?”
 
Filthy shrugged. “Of course. But that’s just how it is, like it or not. I’m just angry right now is all. When I return to my cabin, I will, undoubtedly, have a few glasses of whiskey and bury my head in my hooves, regretting my ignorance.”
 
“Uh… sure…” I rubbed my chin, but couldn’t make much sense of Filthy’s ramblings. He did hit his head pretty hard. “Hey, did you see where Sweetie went?”
 
Filthy rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
 
Idiot. “Oh, right. You were busy being beaten up. Sorry.”
 
“Whatever. She’s probably backstage. I don’t know whether they’re gonna start playing again, but I doubt it. Now, if you’d excuse me,“ Filthy motioned for one of the servants to come closer, “a glass of your strongest one.”
 
Leaving Filthy to drink alone, I went to search for Sweetie. Many ponies were already wandering out of the room. Shock was evident in the faces of most; such episodes in snobby cruises like this were almost unheard of. I took a look around, but Sweetie was nowhere to be seen. The backstage door was there, but the thought of entering without permission made me cringe. With nothing else to do, I tagged along with the crowd and walked out. When I didn’t catch a glance of Sweetie in the hallways and corridors, I separated from the crowd, walking to a door leading outside onto the main deck.
 
As I stepped out to the empty deck, a warm, salty breeze greeted me, sending waves of nausea through my body. Shaking my head at the unnatural light of the electrical lamps, I pulled a small plastic bag from my pockets, taking out another batch of the green pills. I threw them into my mouth, swallowed, and grimaced at their dry and horrible taste. Why does it always have to be like this?
 
“Scootaloo?”
 
I turned around so fast that I almost stumbled onto the deck. In front of me was a giggling Sweetie Belle. “Gotcha!”
 
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” I dashed at Sweetie, wrapping my hooves around her. My mind was filled with joy; it had been a long time.
 
Sweetie broke the embrace, grinning. “How’s it going, Scoots? I heard that you’ll take part in the championships.”
 
“Fine, for the most part. There hasn’t been much going on lately.”
 
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Sweetie with a whiny tone. “Tell me more. No, tell me everything. It’s been two years, and all you can say is that you’re doing fine?”
 
I sighed. “Alright, Sweetie, alright… Well, for starters, I broke up with Silver Ribbon. Good riddance. Haven’t missed him. I’ve been spending most of my time racing in the Grand Prix Equestria Series, like you’ve probably read from the newspapers. Otherwise, there hasn’t been much going on. I bought a small apartment in Manehattan, but haven’t had the time to actually be there. Happy now?”
 
Sweetie shook her head. “No. I know of your break-up, since it was all over in the tabloids. But why did it happen, Scoots?”
 
“We just were too different. That’s all, I swear.“ And the whole truth.
 
“Hm…” A thoughtful look crossed Sweetie’s face, as she seemingly pondered my swift and simple explanation. “If that’s the case, I suppose it’s good that you broke up. And we should talk of something happier, anyway.”
 
“Happy? It seems like nopony’s happy these days.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“You probably noticed that I talked to Filthy Rich at the dance?” Sweetie nodded. “Well, he seems to have developed a strong liking for alcohol, or at least I got that impression. He didn’t answer my questions about Diamond, so their relations are probably still broken. I still don’t understand why Filthy made such a big fuss about the whole ‘family business’ thing… though I have finally begun to understand why Diamond turned out the way she did, with her father so preoccupied with buying and selling stuff.”
 
Sweetie frowned and turned the discussion to other matters. In the unnatural light of the lamps we talked about our days in Ponyville, recollecting both the fun and the bad times. My mind wandered into the garage of my parents’ humble house, where I’d built my first soapbox car with Apple Bloom’s help, earning my friend her cutie mark in the process – a hammer crossed with a screwdriver. Naturally, Pinkie Pie had thrown a party.
 
I got my mark, a dart with speed stripes, shortly after Apple Bloom. The first soapbox car broke down before I ever got a chance to use it, so I had Apple Bloom build me a better one. When coasting down a steep hill with incredible speed, I had, for the first time, experienced the burst of adrenaline that driving would always come to bring me. I’d driven scooters for a while, but they were no match for the more real vehicles. Even though it had taken a year for me to get hold of a real car – again, with Apple Bloom’s help – I had, by that time, driven in some competitions. My first sponsor had been Filthy Rich, and because of that, we still considered each other friends on some level.
 
Meanwhile, Sweetie had discovered her special talent. While I was busy going as fast as possible, she’d started taking singing lessons, apparently because of Rarity’s encouragement. There had been nothing dramatic about her mark, a musical note over a pink heart. She’d been the last of us to get hers, but that didn’t seem to move her one way or the other.

After a while, our trip back to Ponyville became boring and repetitive. My mind was starting to wander around, and I couldn’t really concentrate on Sweetie’s words. This evening can’t end this early. It’s been two years, and you really can’t think of anything to do?
 
“I’m getting drowsy,” I noted as an hour or two of our nostalgia-trip had passed, smirking of all the ideas that surged into my mind. “We should do something radical.”
 
“Radical? It’s ten in the evening, Scoots…”
 
“I know that, silly. I’m already getting sleepy, but since we’re finally together, we could actually do something, like back in the day. Has the adventurer in you died?” I took a pause, mulling about all the possibilities. “My car’s in the storage deck. It’s not a racing car, but revving the engine makes some pretty damn awesome noise, especially in an enclosed space.”
 
Sweetie raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? What if we get ca –“
 
“Pfft. We’re not getting caught, that’s for sure. Just follow me!”
 
“But –“
 
“A-a! No buts. Let’s go!” Smiling, I grabbed Sweetie, pulling her to follow me. After hesitating for a moment, she complied, but looked unsure. We walked by the railing on the empty deck, until we came to a door which looked gritty compared to the rest of the ship. Some of the white paint had flaked off, and instead of having a detailed floor plan with a you’re here dot on it, a red 15 had been painted on the door.
 
“So, this is it?” asked Sweetie. “I thought the storage deck was much lower…”
 
I nodded. “It is much lower. I brought us here because this door is the maintenance access. I don’t think we’ll see anypony if we take this route – like I said, we won’t get caught.”
 
“And it’s not… locked?”
 
Great. I put my hoof on the handle and pressed it down, pushing the door at the same time. Surprisingly, it opened with a creak, revealing a wall of darkness. I glanced at Sweetie, and she lit up her horn. The light wasn’t exactly bright, but it would have to do. We stepped in side-by-side. Sweetie’s soft coat brushed against mine, and the warmness radiating from her body made me smile.
 
The maintenance tunnel was dank and dark, and we had to keep our pace slow to avoid tripping over the numerous pipes on the floor. After a while, we arrived at a narrow stairway, starting the descent down. My heart was now pounding – I’d never liked small, enclosed spaces. Only Sweetie’s presence kept me at least somewhat calm. Every once in a while there was a small platform with another maintenance door, but I instructed Sweetie to continue further down, hoping that my memory of the ship’s floor plan was accurate.  It took us several minutes to reach the end of the staircase – a short, grey hallway with a large, metallic door in the back.
 
I walked to the door, but noticed that Sweetie was no longer by my side. I looked behind me, seeing that she was still uncertain about the whole ordeal. “This is a huge risk, Scoots. Let’s just… go back. Please. This was a stupid idea.”
 
“Come on, Sweetie! We’re already this far, so we might as well do it!”
 
“Scoots… I…” Sweetie glanced behind her. “I don’t know about this. What if we just returned to the deck and went to our cabins?”
 
I sighed, shaking my head. “We came all the way down here, and you’re gonna chicken out now? There’s nothing that could happen!”
 
Sweetie cringed, but after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward. “Alright, then,” she said with a defeated voice. “But if we get caught, I hold you responsible.”
 
“Sure.” I waited until Sweetie was back by my side before pushing down the door’s handle. At first, it didn’t move an inch, but when I jumped and pressed my whole body against it, it slowly inched down, letting out a dull clunk as it reached its bottom. This maintenance tunnel can’t have seen much use. I pushed the door open and stepped into the dark, tall room. As Sweetie followed, I saw that we were between two shelves as tall as the room: about eight to ten yards. On them were numerous packages and other containers, strapped securely to prevent them from falling. The door slid shut with a thud.
 
“Was war das?” called a voice from somewhere behind the right-side shelf. I froze. Sweetie’s light went off, leaving us in darkness.
 
“Nichts, Genau,” answered another after a moment of silence. I didn’t understand what was being said, but it didn’t sound like we’d been noticed. “Es war nur das Schiff.”
 
Hoofsteps could be heard. A light flickered from between the packages. My heart was racing, and I tried to keep as still as possible.
 
Two unicorns walked past where the shelves ended, about twenty feet away. Both were wearing the same sort of tuxedos that I’d gotten used to seeing everywhere, and I could clearly recognize the other as the one who’d saved Filthy from Rasend. His horn was shining a white light. The guards traded a few words in Germane, but I couldn’t make any sense of them. Only after their voices had gotten a lot farther did I have the courage to look at Sweetie. My muscles had tensed up so much that they were hurting.
 
“What did I tell you?” whispered Sweetie, illuminating her horn very slightly. I could only see her outlines. “Let’s go back to where we came from.”
 
Yes. This was an incredibly stupid idea, and you know that. “No.”
 
“No?”
 
I could feel energy course into my body. The adrenaline was there – the excitement that danger brought with it. “No.”
 
“Scoots, this is plain ridiculous.”
 
“I know.” Grinning, I continued forward. After a few steps, Sweetie tagged along, grumbling something inaudible. “While we’re here, we should find out what the guards are doing.” We walked in the shadow of the shelves and all sorts of large crates. The ship rocked lightly, but we were in no danger of falling over. Soon, the light of the guards stopped moving, and they said something to each other. We silently walked towards the direction of their noises, taking cover behind a large crate as we were close enough to listen to their conversation.
 
I peeked from behind the crate to see what the guards were doing, and my mouth fell open. They were examining a sleek, blue car – my car. One was peeking through the windows, while the other lay on the floor, knocking the underside of the car. “Hast du schon etwas gefunden?” asked the one on the floor.
 
“Nah. Nichts hier… jedenfalls, ich glaube nicht dass Scootaloo wurde schmuggeln.” A smuggler? Me, of all ponies?
 
The guards chatted for a short while before moving on to the other cars, though there were only eight in total. Sweetie poked me in the shoulder, signaling that it was time for us to go. We made our way back through the dark corridors and the staircase, not daring to talk until we were back on the main deck.
 
“Why in Tartarus am I a suspect?” I blurted out as we stepped back to the outside. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
 
Sweetie paused before breaking out a smile. “You really don’t speak Germane, do you?” A hoof was pushed onto my mouth, denying me a chance to reply. “And don’t even answer that. They were saying that they didn’t think you’d smuggle anything. After all, you’d have nothing to gain, and everything to lose.”
 
“Okay, Sweetie… perhaps it’s time for us to go to bed.” I took a glance at the darkness beyond the ship, and saw a number of lights somewhere far away. Tomorrow, we’d arrive at Meerperl. “Now that we’ll actually be in the same city, would it hurt if we went to a restaurant together or something?”
 
“Of course not,” replied Sweetie. I looked deep into her green eyes. “But I’m getting drowsy. Let’s leave the talk for tomorrow.”
 
“Sure. Good night, Sweetie!” A warm feeling encompassed me as my friend walked away. Taking in the humid ocean air, I smiled. This will be one hay of a trip.


> Chapter 2: Meerperl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up with bile in my mouth. Not wasting a single second, I painfully dashed up from the bed and leaped towards the bathroom door, using my wings to keep my balance. Barely avoiding tumbling over, I jumped to the toilet and put my head over it. The sensation of last night’s meal pushing itself towards freedom burned my throat. My eyes swelled with tears as I let everything out, clutching my aching stomach. After a few minutes, it was all over, and I fell to my haunches. The toilet smelled horrible. Why? This doesn’t even make sense! Racing doesn’t make me throw up all the time!
 
There was a knock on the door. Collecting myself, I swallowed the last anti-seasickness pills and went to open the door. “Guten morgen, Frau Scootaloo!” greeted Suppe, giving me a smile. Her eyes wandered on my face that undoubtedly held a few stains of vomit. “Wissen Sie a… towel zu haben?”
 
“A towel?” Yay. Next, there’ll be a paparazzi or two taking pictures. “Whatever, but I’d rather have some medicine for seasickness. This ship’s killing me.”
 
“I’ll go fetch you some,” told Suppe, smirking. “Oh, and I came here to tell you zhat we’ll arrive in two hours. Have fun in Meerperl!”
 
“I don’t know about Meerperl, but my fun happens on the International Raceway.” Suppe turned around, walking back. I sat onto the floor and waited idly, gathering some odd looks from ponies who passed by the door – the fact that I wasn’t wearing anything didn’t help with that. It was weird how high-class ponies frowned upon the natural body of a pony.
 
The orange-hued rays of the morning sun pouring in from the sole, round window made me think of things. Sweetie… the last night… now it was all a mere blur, a happy stain in my memory. I felt a tinge of pain in my chest as I realized that after the championships were over, it would, once again, take a very long time for us to see each other again. If all three of us could ever find time to plan for a reunion, it would be like a gift from the heavens. Traveling across the world to race was just as time-consuming as singing to large crowds a few nights a week. Not even Apple Bloom had been spared, for she was the CEO of her own business.
 
Suppe returned, carrying a white can made of plastic. She handed it over. The etiquette read Meer-Heiler. I thanked Supped, who nodded and trod away to serve somepony else. I opened the can, but closed it again, deciding that it would be better to save the pills, just in case there would be some unexpected problems.
 
After taking a moment to gather myself and wipe the last traces of vomit off my face, I grabbed my saddle bag from under the bed. I had stuffed my dress along with everything else I needed to have on my person in it. Even though pockets were kind of handy, I still hadn’t gotten used to wearing clothes, but that was partly because I didn’t want to be like the other high-flyers. I was known in the magazines for being my honest, straight and sometimes even rude self, and saw no reason to change that... because that was who I was.
 
The walk through the crowded corridors was short, as my cabin was situated close to a door to the main deck. When I stepped outside through the heavy iron door, the bright light made me rub my eyes. Some ponies were already chatting in small groups. The air was warm and humid, like it always was during daytime on these latitudes. Faint wind kept the temperature on tolerable levels.
 
I went to the side rail, leaning on it to better see where we were heading. The buildings of Meerperl, now only about a mile away, were visible on the mostly green shoreline, dominated by the lush jungles of the island. Even though I knew that Neighcaragua was by no means small, the shore, stretching for dozens of miles in both directions, didn’t fail to amaze me. The azure, glittering water of the ocean crowned the sight, contrasting with the emerald island. No place in Equestria could have offered views like this.
 
Because it wouldn’t take long for us to arrive to the port, I took a seat in one of the colorful deckchairs. Even the blue, cloudless sky was quite something to look at. This shouldn’t surprise you one bit. Just be careful that you don’t accidentally turn this into a vacation. You have events to win, and Piers to mock.
 
And just to affirm my goals, the devil arrived, looking down on me with a menacing grin. Piers was wearing a pair of pitch-black sunglasses. “Morning, Scootaloo. I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable. That’s probably a good idea, seeing that you won’t have a chance in the champs.”
 
“Piers, you’re pathetic. Go play a movie villain someplace else. I’m trying to relax here – that’s all I need to do to beat you.”
 
“Ooh, Scootaloo’s become cocky?” asked Piers mockingly. I knew very well that I wouldn’t beat him without rigorous practice sessions on the track and long conversations with my mechanics, but Piers’s unbelievable attitude always ticked me off. He never acted like that with other ponies – no, this was entirely personal. If I won a race, he’d always be there to scorn me, even though he didn’t seem to mind if a third pony took the top spot. Due to our almost equal skills, neither of us had managed to decisively come on top of the other. The Pan-Equestrian Championships would, once and for all, prove who was the better driver. Or so I hoped.
 
“To be honest, Piers, I have much more reason than you to be cocky,” I said with a sour voice, keeping my face stoic. “I’m a three-time winner of the Le Trod, have scored fifteen victories in the Equestrian Grand Prix Series, and finished second in last year’s Pan-Equestrian Championships. If you want compare –“
 
Piers snorted. “Alright, let’s compare! The last time I checked, I have won the Prench –“
 
“Hi, Scoots!”
 
Piers and I turned our heads in unison. Sweetie was standing next to us, fluttering her eyes dumbfoundedly, as if she hadn’t noticed what we’d been talking about. “Um… did I interrupt something?”
 
“Well…” I shook my head. “No, of course not. Piers was just passing by and wishing me luck like any noble driver would. Right?”
 
“Yeah. Right.” Piers rolled his eyes and hurriedly trod away. I barely managed to restrain myself from spitting after him.
 
Sweetie lay onto the next deckchair in the row and sighed. “I heard you arguing. What was that all about?”
 
“Piers is an asshole. That’s it.”
 
“Oh, is it, now?” Sweetie smirked, causing me to frown. “I’ve seen a lot of fiery romances. You two would make a perfect couple; you have the same interests and everything! The sexual tension between you two is higher than that between Applejack and Rarity!”
 
I felt a heat rise up my cheeks as I took in what Sweetie had said. Then, I shook my head violently. “You can’t be serious! Applejack and Rarity?! How in the hay would they go together? And even imagining a life with Piers… dear Celestia…”
 
Sweetie giggled, slapping me in the stomach. I flinched in pain. What the hay? “Just 
teasing, Scoots! I am Rarity’s sister, though, and from what she’s told me, I think it’s pretty obvious that she was once head-over-heels in love with Applejack. It feels weird to think about it… we were so young back then, and my sister had fallen for my friend’s sister!” 

“That’s a lot to take in…”
 
“Yes, and it might or might not be true. But does it even matter? It’s a fun story anyway.” Sweetie poked me, this time in the face, still giggling like a school filly. “I wonder what the papers would say if there was a rumor about you and Piers…”
 
“Sweetie, I think you’ve become more like Rarity than you even realize,” I said, completely unamused by my friend’s blabbering. “Last night was much cooler than talking about nonexistent romantic relationships, especially one between two mares. And now, you have made me sound like Twilight…”
 
“Twilight will be there to open the Championships, or so I was told. It has been many a year since a pony of her stature has officially proclaimed a sports event, not to even talk about motorsports, open,” said Sweetie, imitating Twilight’s voice surprisingly well. I could almost smell the dusty books of Golden Oaks Library. “I really hope she won’t hold a five-hour speech, though.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
We spent the rest of the sail lying on the deckchairs, bathing in the warmth of the sun. I knew I should have applied some sun lotion, but was too lazy to reach for my saddle bag. If I’d burn my skin, it wouldn’t cause any real harm. I could live with the itching, and no paparazzi could possibly see under my coat. When the shore came so close that I could see individual palms, I finally rose up. Sweetie did the same.
 
The ship’s engine rumbled loudly as it braked. Meerperl’s tall, colonial-era buildings looked inviting. Most of them were made of bricks, but had been painted orange or white. From what I could see from the deck, the streets appeared to be very crowded – numerous ponies trod around, some with hurry, some with a more relaxed pace – some going to work, some going to fishing. The port itself was surprisingly small, so it felt like a miracle that a cruiser of this size could even dock there. As the ship stopped a dozen yards from the shore, the escort boats scurried away, like ants trying to escape from a foal trampling them in a fit of rage.
 

--


 

The table next to us was surrounded by a group of mares who chatted in irritating, high-pitched noises. “All this Germane… it’s driving me crazy.” Filthy looked appalled; almost like Sweetie back in the day after some harsh word from Diamond Tiara. The three of us – Sweetie, Filthy and I – were enjoying sangrias under a restaurant’s sunshade after having met at the dock. We had a great view of the ocean from here.
 
“Don’t be silly, Rich,” said Sweetie, rolling her eyes comically. “I’m sure the native people would love to speak their original languages. Besides, you just ordered these drinks in plain old Equestrian.”
 
“He’s been weird for a while, Sweetie. I don’t think we need to worry about him. When the negotiations start, he’ll be in top shape once again.” Not caring about my words, Filthy stared at his drink, his eyes looking empty. “Hey, Filthy! You there?”
 
Filthy turned his head towards me and flinched. “Yup. I’m sorry, gals. It just seems like everything’s been working against me lately. You two should leave me and go have some fun by yourselves. Heck, my daughter used to be your number-one bully. What a great father I am…” Shaking his head, Filthy emptied his glass with one gulp. I could but frown; something seemed to be deeply bothering him. You should fish out what happened with Diamond, but not right now. Let him regain his composure first.
 
“I’m afraid I have to go in an hour, so I’d rather have all of us here,” told Sweetie, giving a compassionate look to Filthy, who still didn’t crack a smile. “If something’s wrong, you can tell us. Well, at least to Scootaloo, if not me.”
 
“Nah. You know what’s wrong. And because I’m an indifferent business mogul, I won’t bother telling you. After all, then it would be said twice. Not to even think about…” Filthy paused, and then, sighed deeply. “Who am I kidding with this bullshit? It’s Diamond. I invited her to come here with me, but she refused with some very rude words. Then again, there are many further factors contributing to my depressed state. As an intelligent stallion, I’m aware of most of them. But really, this conversation could change its course, don’t you think?”
 
“Why did she refuse to come?” continued Sweetie.
 
Filthy gave Sweetie a pained look. “I’m here to sell weapons. The government wants to buy them, so I’ll be selling them.”
 
“What?” gasped Sweetie. I could see that Filthy’s revelation had come as a shock to her, although I didn’t understand how she hadn’t figured out his motivation before. “You’re seriously dealing arms to Orden’s gang? Where has your honor gone?”

“Look, Sweetie, I know you don’t like him very much, but this is –” getting out of hoof, and quickly, at that.
 
“Mister Rich, I think you should just accept the fact that Diamond wants no part in scamming the common pony or dealing arms to military dictatorships,” said Sweetie with an offensive tone, getting Filthy’s attention. “You know very well that Orden’s government won’t be using them just to protect the country. Do you honestly think that Germaneigh has any wish to reconquer its old colonies? Even Prance gave up on that a long time ago! The ponies here are free of imperialism, and that’s not going to change.”
 
Filthy sighed. “Sweetie Belle… What does it matter? If they are paranoid, let them be. It’s too big of an opportunity to be missed.”
 
“Diamond seems to have disagreed.”
 
I had a hard time keeping up, but wanted to end the argument before it got any nastier. “Sweetie…”
 
“Could you kindly stop throwing salt in my wounds?” Filthy started to sound angry. “It’s not fucking every day that your daughter abandons you. Whatever you think of me, have some decency, alright? I helped Scootaloo start her career, and at least she appreciates that.”
 
Sweetie was about to reply, but I stuffed my hoof in her mouth, staring straight into her eyes. I saw that she was having a hard time controlling the thoughts raging in her mind. Shaking my head barely noticeably, I took my hoof back. Treating Sweetie like that made me feel bad inside, especially because I knew she was in the right, but this wasn’t the right time to start an argument like that. An awkward moment of silence ensued.
 
“Uhm...” started Filthy, breaking the silence before it got too brooding. “I’m sorry for being a jerkass businesspony, if that’s what you’re asking for. Please try to understand – it’s just a job, after all. And if I wasn’t here to negotiate about arms deals, it would be somepony else. I doubt that would change the situation in any way. If the Neighies want guns, they’re going to get them in one way or another. But – really – we should change the subject. I don’t want to talk about this shit. You have your opinion, I have mine, eh?”
 
A short silence ensued again. “If we really need to, I have a lot of stories about Meerperl,” said Sweetie, again breaking the silence before the awkwardness level rose too high. I noticed that I’d held my breath, and exhaled in relief. Listening to two of your friends arguing wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for a week of high-speed racing. “This city is much older than Ponyville – 248 years, to be exact, and has a history more colorful than than of Manehattan or Trottingham.”
 
Filthy and I agreed, and Sweetie started telling us about Meerperl’s and Neighcaragua’s history. The island had originally been inhabited by a small number of earth ponies who had had no knowledge of the outside world, much less the colonial race between the continental nations. A Germaneighian explorer, Kompass, had found it about 300 years ago, and claimed it for her country. 

At first, I listened excitedly, but eventually, the boring realities of history caught up. When Sweetie got to Meerperl and the modern days, I found myself gazing towards the sea. Sweetie’s tone reminded  me of Cheerilee, and a smile rose to my face as I remembered the sounds of the classroom.
 
The lecture probably wasn’t too long, but it felt like hours had gone by. My daydreams of Ponyville went uninterrupted. Sweetie continued to rant on about some hostilities outside Meerperl. So excited was she that she failed to notice both Filthy and I had long since stopped listening. Filthy had already gulped down a couple of drinks, and whenever he wanted a new one, the waitress was nearby – considering that he constantly ordered the most expensive items on the list, it was no wonder. I had no idea why Sweetie was so interested in the history of the island. She lives here, that’s why.
 
“…but I really have to go now. I have a gig tonight in Das Blaue Meer, a gentlecolt’s club by the Main Street.” Sweetie rose from her chair, waking me up from my stupor. “See you, Scoots! And you too, Rich.”
 
Filthy didn’t turn his eyes from the drink in front of him. “See you.”
 
“Wait, wait!” I exclaimed. “Sweetie, where was the concert? And at what time? I have the whole day free, since the track won’t open until tomorrow.”
 
Sweetie rolled her eyes. “You weren’t listening at all, were you?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued: “Das Blaue Meer, a club by the Main Street. It’s a large and classy-looking blue building, like you’d probably guess from the name. You can’t miss it. I’ll be singing between nine and ten in the evening, perhaps later, too. But for now, bye!”
 
“See you in the evening!” I shouted after Sweetie, who was already walking away. She glanced back and gave me a smile.
 
For a while, I stayed by the table with Filthy, watching him become more and more drunk as time passed. When he stopped responding to me, only talking to the waitress to order a new drink, I shook my head and rose up. “You’re becoming pathetic, Filthy. Get a grip. Since there’s no point in sitting here with you, I’ll be in my hotel room. You know where to find me if you want to talk about Diamond or something else.”
 
Filthy turned his eyes up only for a second. “Bye.”
 
Sighing, I turned away from my friend. I made my way to my car, which was parked by a road, only a short walk away. Like always, the polished blue exterior, complete with the white roof and the elegant, black-and-white tires made my heart jump a little. The car was awesomeness in material form. When ordering it, I had considered paying for a custom paintwork to make the roof be in the spectrum of a rainbow. However, that also meant having to make a big decision: whether I still wanted to be Ranbow Dash’s fanfilly. What would everypony think if I painted my car in the honor of a childhood hero? That I’d be licking the boots of a wonderbolt, of course. It was almost a shame that Rainbow had achieved her dream – and so had I. Now that we both had our duties, we rarely met outside the Grand Galloping Gala. Fortunately, the Wonderbolts made at least some appearances to celebrate the most important races, but I couldn’t be certain if they’d have a show at this year’s championships. Neighcaragua was a long way from Equestria, after all, and the diplomatic relations between the two countries weren’t exactly warm.
 
I unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat. The furnishing was creamy white, and my rump comfortably sank into the soft seat. However, in the controls – the huge driving wheel and the pointy gear stick – comfort had given way to efficiency. Grinning, I turned the keys in the hole, starting the car up. I revved the engine, creating a low rumble that vibrated through my body. Even though this was no racing car, the power in my hooves always felt incredible. Shifting the car to first, I put my right rear hoof lightly on the gas pedal. My position in the seat was somewhat unnatural, and even after hundreds of thousands of miles, I hadn’t completely gotten used to it. The resulting back pains had fallen to tolerable levels, though.
 
There were some cars on the street, a few even matching mine in the looks. The lack of traffic jams was refreshing, though the number of pedestrians crossing the street wherever they felt like it was dazzling. I had to rest my other rear hoof on the brake all the time to avoid running over careless ponies, and soon just accepted the situation and stopped honking the horn. During the confusing drive through Meerperl, I passed by the Das Blaue Meer. It truly was impossible to miss the bright-blue building, which sported a huge sign over the double doors: “Nur für höfliche Ponien! – Only for well-mannered ponies!” The classy declaration made me frown. Have I really become one of those ponies? How much do I have in common with Filthy, after all?
 
Trying my best to get the uncomfortable questions out of my head, I eventually arrived to my hotel, Queen’s Rest. It was a white building with over ten stories, and all of the rooms seemed to have extensive terraces with sunshades and marble decorations of various colors. I parked my car at the mostly empty lot, which was patrolled by a nasty-looking earth pony. The bulge on the side of his tuxedo – the mark of a gun – sent shivers through my spine. Does everypony carry a gun around here?
 
I left my car to the care of the guard, and walked inside the hotel. The reception room was made of white marble. Black pillars with carvings of various animals rose from floor to ceiling. It was obvious that they weren’t needed to keep the building in one piece, but I couldn’t deny that they looked cool. In fact, the reception room looked more like an entrance to a palace than a hotel.
 
“Miss Scootaloo!” chirped the receptionist, a white unicorn. Her color was a perfect match with the walls. “How can we serve you?”
 
“Just throw me the keys. I want to rest.”
 
The mare nodded, levitating a big, silvery key in front of me. I snatched it. My room’s number, 37, was carved on it. I thanked the mare, trotting off towards the staircase.
 

--


 

I lay on the luxurious bed, almost engulfed. The bed had wrapped around me like water, and my hooves were already feeling numb from the lack of sensation, but instead of relaxing me, it made me feel uncomfortable. Hoofington General Hospital – that was what the feeling reminded me about. Racing had its dangers… and even though I’d lost friends on the track, it had never come to me that I could get seriously hurt until it had actually happened. All it had taken was an unlucky front-right puncture in a very bad spot, sending me into a concrete wall. It was only by dumb luck that I’d lived to tell the tale. 

Death... danger... happiness. Everything in my life had happened so fast that I sometimes had an urge to just sit back and wait for the world to pass by. In barely twenty years, I had accomplished almost everything one could dream of. Nopony could deny that I was the best racer of the century, at least equal to Piers. I had been in a somewhat long relationship... and when everything had been fine, seen death face-to-face.

Don’t do this to yourself. Enjoy life while you’re living. What would anything be worth if you just lied in your bed all day?

Sighing, I rose up. Resting was impossible when all I could think about was dying.
 
Only now did it really strike me how odd Sweetie’s and Filthy’s behavior had been. Sweetie hadn’t previously had a problem with him. Also, it seemed like Filthy had pretty much lost it – previously, his issues with Diamond had never taken him so far down the road. When we were still living in Ponyville, he wouldn’t have so much as glanced at alcoholic beverages. It was mind-boggling how much ponies could change.
 
The spacey, luxurious suite didn’t help in turning my thoughts elsewhere, so I started growing anxious. What the hay is going on? Sweetie acted like Filthy was a villain rivaling Chrysalis, and armed guards patrol the streets. It doesn’t make any sense.
 
A quick look around the room told me that there was a small shelf crammed full of books in the corner. I walked to it, and after seeing cheesy names like A Hot Night In Canterlot and Three Mares and One Stallion, I settled for the latest Daring Do book. If anypony could take my mind away from dying and a sudden antagonism between my friends, it would be the adventurous mare, who resembled Rainbow Dash in more than one way.
 
It didn’t take me long to get submerged in the adventure. I found myself in a lush jungle, chasing a group of grave robbers to return the Amethyst Crown to its resting place before it would release íts powers, causing unimaginable suffering to all of ponykind. I watched as Daring dodged bullets, flew across vast canyons, spelunked in dark caves, and chased the villains across all kinds of hostile terrains – not to even the mention the cannibalistic natives, who were, in turn, after her.
 
Before I even realized, the clock beat nine times. I jumped up, feeling cold sweat on my forehead. No way. I can’t be late!
 
Not wasting a second, I dashed to the terrace. The wooden door crashed open, revealing a wonderful sight of Meerperl from aboce. A short railing bordered the terrace.
 
I gulped. The parking lot was far below, and my stomach was already protesting. From up here, I could see downtown Meerperl. A distinctly blue building in the distance reminded me why I had to do this, but it wouldn’t make it any easier. I climbed onto the railing, swallowing hard. My heart was racing. You don’t have the whole evening.
 
It was plain stupid – taking a risk like this just for Sweetie. Then again, I really wanted to be with her tonight, so arriving thirty minutes late would be totally unacceptable. With a steadfast, determined look on my face, I unfurled my wings and jumped.
 
Air rushed past me, and I flapped furiously, trying to gain control. For a split second, a horrible feeling of dread struck me: what if I wouldn’t regain control?  But, of course, I did. Even though I’d never been much of a flier, I wasn’t completely helpless. Relieved to still be in one piece, I changed the direction of my dive so that I glided towards the nightclub with a high speed. Every now and then, I had to flap, my sides already aching from the effort. While most pegasi could fly almost purely by their magic, that little spark just wasn’t there for me. Yet, while I flew over city, I felt freer than I had in a long time.
 
Some minutes later, I landed next to the club, staggering a bit as my hooves impacted with the tarmac. If my sides had ached before, now they were burning. I walked to the door, and saw a red earth pony blocking my way. He was wearing sunglasses.
 
“In what business are you here?” asked the stallion with a monotonous voice.
 
“I’m here to see Sweetie Belle!” I said, still panting profusely. “Just let me in already! I know I’m late!”
 
“Hold your horses. Why would I let such a sweaty mare in? This is no worker’s club, Miss. If word came out that we’re a hangout for ponies like you, our repu –“
 
“Don’t you recognize who I am?”
 
The stallion paused, pushing down his sunglasses. He glared straight into my eyes, causing my stomach to turn. I felt very small in front of him. To my relief, he soon pushed the glasses back up, nodding. “Oh, you’re Miss Scootaloo. I’m sorry for my outlandish behavior. Just be sure to arrive in a slightly more… hm… sophisticated manner next time.” I hastily mumbled something about an agreement, trotting past the stallion. 
 
Music was already playing as I walked in, taking a seat at an empty table that could very well have been from a palace with all the delicate carvings on its foot. The azure walls were full of paintings, most of which looked like odd messes of colors and shades. The floor was made of marine marble, complementing the lighter-colored walls. While the club, restaurant, or whatever it was wasn’t even close to being full, the patrons made up for it. They looked just like the ponies on the cruise... classy and well-dressed.
 
I was given odd looks by the other ponies, but I didn’t really care about them at the moment. All I could think of was Sweetie, who was on a small stage in the front, accompanied only by a pianist. Sweetie’s mane was all curly, almost like Rarity’s. She was wearing all sorts of glistening jewelry, but even more striking were her eyes. They were gleaming with happiness – happiness from my arrival? Now you’re daydreaming.
 
I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on Sweetie, who returned the look once in a while. In no time, I was lost in my thoughts, listening to her beautiful, flawless voice.
 
When you meet with the young mares early in the Spring
You court them in song and rhyme
They answer with words and a clover ring
But if you could examine the goods they bring
They have little to offer but the songs they sing
And the plentiful waste of time of day
A plentiful waste of time
 
It was an old stallion’s song, but somehow worked when Sweetie sung it. A feeling of warmness engulfed me – just like that I could imagine somepony much older feeling when they thought about their past loves. My mind wandered back in the day when I’d been so happy with Silver Ribbon… and only now did I fully understand how little time had really passed. Just five months ago, we’d still been happily together. He was a wonderful stallion, but had never really understood my wish to travel across the world, racing against the fastest of ponies. Our break-up had been inevitable, but we still exchanged letters occasionally.

Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game

Sweetie’s voice had a sad, yet somehow warm tingle to it. She sung the song perfectly – it wasn’t every day that a young mare like her would take up the challenge of September, but she had both the courage and the skills to pull it off. I felt proud to have a friend like her.
 
There wasn’t time for me. Yet, there was. My career would eventually end, and after that I’d have all the time I wanted, having earned the prize money to enjoy my golden years as I wished. Even though I knew all of this, I couldn’t help but ponder what would happen if I just quit.

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you
 
The song ended, and everypony clopped their hooves on the floor. The applause was almost deafening, and my hooves were numb after it finally ended. Sweetie didn’t give a speech between songs, opting to start the next one right after the applause had ended. This one was much more casual, and sent me to the narrow alleys of Manehattan to seek my fortune. Sweetie’s cutie mark, a simple musical note I didn’t know the name for, was a perfect complement to her talents. I’d heard the song before, and even with my untrained ears, I could say that she didn’t miss a single note.
 
Happy melodies and sad tunes continued to waltz through my mind for the rest of the concert. Most of the songs were slow, sounding like they were made for dancing. I had an urge to jump up and sway in tune with the music, but to my annoyance, none of the other ponies seemed to share my sudden enthusiasm. The reality of the classy nightclub was, as expected, boring. When Sweetie finished the last song, she left the stage, accompanied by huge applause. She winked to me, and I winked back.
 
I didn’t have to wait long. After a minute, Sweetie walked to my table and sat down, levitating two drinks with her. “Having a good time?” she asked, still smiling. “I noticed you arrived late.”
 
“That was just… wonderful! Marvelous! Incredible!” I praised, noticing a blush creeping to Sweetie’s cheeks. “Or something like that. But besides that, I’m not really having a good time at all. This place is kinda boring.”
 
Sweetie took a sip from her drink, and I did the same. I had no idea what it was, but it was smooth in texture and tasted spicy; probably something local. The blue color was somewhat odd, though. “I know a few places around here, Scoots – places with much more fun and lots of dance, if that’s what you’re looking for. I’m not booked for the rest of the night.”
 
I stared at Sweetie, who blushed even more before I finally looked away, laughing. “Was just testing you. And if you know better place, I’m all ears. I’m not really into dancing with strangers, but I suppose doing it with a friend would be alright.”
 
“There are many… and nothing like this, which is a good thing, I’d say. They’re more of the casual type. Almost like Sugarcube Corner, but with Pinkie throwing a party that never ends.” Sweetie slapped her face. “Actually, that sounds pretty creepy… but imagine one of Pinkie’s parties with actually good music instead of Vinyl’s bass.”
 
I gasped. “Are you saying that Vinyl’s music is bad?”
 
“Don’t be silly. It’s decent on its own right, but you can’t argue that it isn’t the best for dancing, unless hopping around while bobbing your head wildly is what you call dance.”
 
“Actually…” I cringed, because I didn’t really know how to dance. It had been easier when the music was some futuristic riffraff that didn’t make much sense – then I could, like Sweetie said, just jump around. “I’m not an expert when it comes to dancing…”
 
Sweetie giggled. “Oh, Scoots! I’ll teach you. It’s not that hard, really. You’ll learn in no time.”
 
“Sure. What are we waiting for? I’d like to dust off. This place is turning me into one of them.”
 
We rose up and walked out, and the bouncer wished us a pleasant evening as we stepped outside. Streetlights were already on, as the sun had set moments ago. Not a single cloud sailed on the purple sky, and the first stars were already blinking into sight. Even though it was starting to get late, many ponies were still on the streets. Sweetie led the way, and I followed in her hoofsteps past the now mostly silent buildings. A light wind came from the sea, bringing with it a humid, salty smell. I took it in, reveling in the joy of the tranquil night. Our walk through Meerperl was getting long – and eventually, the cold realities started to catch up with me. I couldn’t be out for too long. The first practice session would start at 12pm, whether I liked it or not, and I’d have to be at the pits about four hours earlier to have a good talk with my mechanics.
 
“Sweetie…”
 
She turned around and cocked her head. “Well?”
 
“I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you. I’ll have to wake up in… uhm… eight hours. I really need the rest.” I gave Sweetie a sad smile. She looked disappointed. “But if you have the next evening free, we could go to this other place then. It’s not like having fun was forbidden for me.”
 
“Sure,” sighed Sweetie. She approached me, her eyes glistening, and caught me in a deep embrace. I returned it, feeling all warm and fuzzy. Sweetie had always been comfortably soft. Her breath smelled minty. “Singing to you made me feel good, but tomorrow, I’ll let somepony else do it for me. Good night, Scoots.”
 
“Good night, Sweetie,” I replied, breaking the embrace. With a fuzzy feeling in my chest, I trod through the streets to my hotel. The serenity of the night was something I couldn’t have expected; now it was almost like every Neighcaraguan had gone to bed early. Only the occasional pony stumbled by, leaving my wondering why so many had abandoned the streets at almost the same moment.

And when I collapsed onto my bed, the only thing I could think of was Sweetie’s smile. At long last, we were reunited.
> Chapter 3: The Other Side
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hotel’s breakfast was amazingly diverse, but I didn’t have time to fully enjoy it. Snatching a few waffles and a cup of coffee from the line, I took a seat in the almost empty dinner hall. It was weird how a hotel of this size and quality had been built to serve only a dozen ponies. Had I not received my reservation as a gift from Neighcaragua, even my wallet would have taken too much of a dent from staying here.
 
Black, spicy and hot. I reveled in the coffee’s taste – it certainly was one of the better flavors. It was almost sad that I had to gulp it down with such haste. The waffles, on the other hoof, weren’t anything special.
 
After only a couple of minutes, I was ready, and trod through the enormous room to put my plate and cup onto an empty stand designated just for that purpose.
 
I made my way to the parking lot through the lonely hallways, seeing only the occasional businesspony or hotel worker. The morning was warm, like expected, and there were just as little clouds in the sky as there were visitors in the hotel. A smile crept onto my face. Whatever would happen in the practice session, at least the weather wouldn’t be a problem. I unlocked my car and stepped in, taking the usual, uncomfortable position in the driver’s seat. Once again, I turned the key in the lock, pushing the gas pedal down. The hum of the engine was music to my ears.
 

--


 

I stepped out of my car, eager to see it all from up close. In front of me stood the black behinds of the International Raceway’s massive stands. I’d seen pictures, sure. But witnessing the whole construct from this close was something else entirely… the way the fifty-yards-tall stands rose up from the yellow fields, the way they contrasted with the blue sky – it was almost like Celestia herself had thrown them down from the skies for ponies to wonder. Even though the raceway had been built practically in the middle of nowhere, with barely any trees in sight, a two-lane highway led here. The parking lot was even bigger than the one of Queen’s Rest, but this one actually held cars.
 
After taking in the sight for long enough, I shook my head and trod towards the enormous construct. I saw one of my mechanics, Golden Rod, waving for me in the distance. She greeted me politely when I got closer, motioning me to follow her. We walked through corridors beneath the stands, emerging onto the pit lane from an underground entrance. Each of the garages was designated by a number that’d been assigned long ago, based on the respective teams of each driver. Mine was 16. In total, there would be 30 competitors, all of them invited based on their status and success in other series and events. Luckily, Piers’s number was 29, so it was unlikely that we’d have to see each other’s faces too much.
 
From the pits I could see the track much better. I’d studied all about it, so nothing came as a surprise. The whole complex was bordered by a huge and wide oval – one so big that my hooves were already itching from anticipation of driving on it. Laid on the track only weeks ago, the tarmac was nigh pitch-black. Instead of holding a vast field of grass in the middle as usual, an inner circuit had been constructed there to create many different possibilities for track setups. There would be one race on a long track, one on a shorter one, and a final showdown on the oval.
 
The rest of my crew was already in the garage as we arrived, but the car looked like it had been left alone for now. Seeing the racer always brought a grin to my face. It was sleek and orange with an open cockpit. The car was quite long, and the frontal engine strengthened the impression. My number, along with one horizontal white stripe, had been painted on the car’s both sides, and the hood held the names of a few sponsors, the biggest one being Celestia’s Dawn, a Canterlotian newspaper. A small, tilted sheet of glass was in front of the cockpit to prevent the incoming air from hitting the driver directly. I twitched from anticipation – in some hours, I’d be driving the car once again. On the other hoof, the garage looked a bit grungy as expected. A number of shelves and boxes rested by the sterile, white concrete walls, stacks of tires neatly arranged next to the.
 
“Everything’s fine and dandy, Scootaloo,” told Ground Dweller, the main mechanic. He’d been working with me for three years now. Our team in itself was a small entity – the car was a product of Rich Industries. Filthy owned a three-car team himself, and with my relations, I’d bought one with a fair price, saving me from having to join one of the more prominent factory teams. I liked the freedom that my little private team brought with it.
 
“Good. The first session starts in four hours?” I asked rhetorically. Without waiting for an answer, I continued: “I’ve studied the map of the track, but I’d like to take a walk around it before changing the car’s setup. Ground, I’d like you to come with me.”
 
The earth pony shrugged. “Sure.” 

We walked out and began the hike through the longer version of the track – it would be the first, and if not the most challenging, at least the most technical of the tracks. I saw a few of my competitors performing the same examination, but Ground and I kept a safe distance from them. As we walked, I noted approvingly that the tarmac was in perfect shape. That was to be expected, considering that this would be the virgin race of the track.
 
It took us a while to walk through the entire three-mile circuit, but when we returned to the pits, I had a good idea of what I’d want from the car. With the help of my mechanics, I adjusted the suspension to be harder. A quarter of the oval was a part of the track, and as it was by far the best place to overtake, it would be important to have all the possible speed there. A hard suspension would create problems on the inner circuit, but it could be softened if the practice proved my choice a bit too brave. With the huge safety areas, crashing into a wall would be all but impossible everywhere except for the oval, and thus, I could afford taking a small risk.
 
The hours slowly passed by. There was a lot of movement in pits, but we could afford to slack off a little bit since everything had been put in good order by the mechanics last evening. When the start of the session was thirty minutes away, we finally got onto our hooves to make the necessary last-moment preparations.
 
When the time came, I sat in the car, putting my helmet on. I double-checked every moving thing in the cockpit. Everything was in good condition. But as I fastened the seatbelt, I realized something alarming: I wasn’t fully concentrated. I couldn’t see the track with my mind’s eye. Instead, I saw Sweetie, singing on a stage not too far away, staring directly at me.
 
I shut my eyes, trying to forget everything about last night. My focus had to be right here, even if it would only be a practice – I would never win the championships without proper preparation, not to even think about evading the concrete walls lining the oval.
 
Golden gave me the sign, and I turned the car on. The engine’s beautiful, low rumble was slightly muffled by my helmet, but still sounded like nothing else. Not even Sweetie’s wonderful voice could compare with a 260 horsepower engine.
 
I drove out of the garage, moving in the back of a line of cars that had formed at the end of the pit lane. A red light still burned in front of the line, but after a minute of waiting, it turned green, and car by car drove to the track. At first, I kept my pace very slow, so that I could get a fair distance to the cars in front. About half of the drivers had chosen to go out right away – everyone wanted to test the brand new circuit out as soon as possible.
 
As my first real lap begun, I already felt quite comfortable. My focus was right where it was needed: at the invisible line painted on the track – the best possible driving line. I still had to keep care because no rubber had yet burned onto the tarmac. The grip would increase throughout the day, but the first laps would feel very slippery. Nevertheless, I was in complete control of the situation, and knew right away that I’d place well in the qualifications.
 

--


 

The mechanics stood in wait as I turned the car back into the garage.  My first twelve laps had mostly been about getting used to the track, and I had no idea whether my times were any good, but I was happy at how the big picture was turning out. While the track wasn’t one of the hardest, I still had to keep my concentration very high in the inner circuit to avoid losing precious time. I’d seen Piers’s car behind me on one occasion, but it seemed that he had no wish to fight me already in the practice. 

“Want to change something?” asked Ground politely. I could barely hear his words.
 
I took off my helmet, nodding. My mane was a mess from all the sweat, and the car’s engine was heating my hooves painfully. “Yeah, Ground. The camber needs to be adjusted a tad, so that I can get a better grip on the oval. I know, I know… that one turn shouldn’t be that important. But trust me, it is. Also, soften the suspension a bit.”
 
“Will do, boss. Take a break; this will take from ten to fifteen minutes.” I turned the car off and rose out, smiling. Driving was simply great.
 
The rest of the session went past swiftly, as I drove for a few laps before returning to the pits to once again change the car’s setup. When the clock was two and the practice ended, I was mostly complacent with the situation. I felt confident about the next day’s qualifications, and as I trod to my casual car after a short conversation with the mechanics, my anticipation turned to the evening. I’d see Sweetie again.
 
With many of the other drivers and their crew returning to the city, the traffic was much heavier than I’d previously seen. However, the huge highway made the problem very small. I had a hunch that tomorrow, and especially the day after, the road would, for the first time, be really bogged up by cars.
 
Because of the interesting views of the gigantic field that sprawled on all directions, I soon stopped the car by the road, turning it off. I stepped out. The wind was light, but noticeable, creating waves in the almost-endless field. Somewhere far away, the edge of the forest could be seen as a green line. Much closer stood a big manor, painted yellow. Around it I saw lots of multicolored dots – ponies – moving on the field. They looked like they were collecting the harvest with scythes and sickles. The area they’d cleared was very small considering the size of the field. I frowned as I realized how long it’d take to harvest every crop of wheat. So this is where all those wheat and sugar exports come from. No wonder that most of the wheat sold in Baltimare is Neighcaraguan instead of Equestrian.
 
Shrugging, I returned to the car. I couldn’t really comprehend why such a vast field would exist in the first place, but I rationalized that there must have been other manors further away – the workforce of one simply couldn’t have been enough. With no real knowledge of Neighcaraguan agriculture, I pushed the questions onto the backburner.
 
Back at the hotel, I parked my car in its previous spot. A brown earth pony was standing at the entrance, and as I walked closer, he approached me. I noticed that it was Filthy. “Hi there!” I said. “What are you doing here, Filthy?”
 
Filthy gave me a rugged smile. “I’m here to invite you to a dinner party, and before you even ask – no, it won’t overlap with any of your races. The party’s going to be after tomorrow’s qualifications. If you want, you could bring one pony with you.”
 
“I don’t know about that, Filthy… I already have plans for this evening, so I’d rather rest tomorrow. And to be honest, this is a bit too sudden.”
 
“Oh, but Scootaloo!” laughed Filthy. “With all the sponsorship deals we’ve struck during the years, I’d think that you owe me at least something. Of course, I can’t force you to come, but I’d really appreciate it. Besides, it won’t be a boring party. There’ll be music, food, and the best domestic ale!”
 
“Filthy… if I attend parties every day, my focus will shift too much from the races. I’m here to win, not to have fun.”
 
“Why can’t you do both? It’s not like lying in your hotel room would be any better. You gotta keep your level of activity high, so that –“
 
“Yeah, sure.” I was starting to get annoyed; Filthy wasn’t normally this pervasive. “But I said no.”
 
“Come on!” exclaimed Filthy, grinning. “You could bring Sweetie Belle along!”
 
The dots connected in my mind, and I bit my lip. I could spend even more time with Sweetie, but on the other hoof, I’d be stuck in another classy get-together of high-class ponies, and I really was getting tired of them. If Pinkie just was here…
 
“Well?” inquired Filthy. His stern look demanded an answer.
 
“Uhm… well…” I muttered, trying to make up a compromise of some sort. “I guess I could ask Sweetie whether she wants to come. If she does, both of us will be there. You fine with that, Filthy?”
 
Filthy had a thoughtful look on his face for a few seconds. Then, he nodded. “Sure am, Scootaloo. Go on and ask her – the earlier, the better… but I’ve gotta run now. There are other deals to strike. See you tomorrow!”
 
As Filthy ran off, I smacked my face with a hoof. Once again, I’d been talked to something I had no wish to take part in. It’s too late to change your mind now, so suck it up. Besides, more time with Sweetie doesn’t hurt. You have to make up for being separated for so long. Thinking of Sweetie made me feel better about the whole ordeal. If I’d really have to go, at least I’d have a good friend by my side.
 
Sweetie. I froze. We hadn’t agreed when we’d meet today, nor where. Great… just great. Think of something. And I thought. I remembered telling Sweetie that I was staying at Queen’s Rest, but couldn’t recall if I’d told her the number of my room. I felt pain in my chest, but knew that there wasn’t much to be done. Of course, I could simply ask for her address in the City Hall, but for some reason, I had a nagging feeling that I’d be intruding if I just marched to her doorstep, assuming that the officials spoke Equestrian in the first place. No – I’d have to let her pick me up. With nothing else to do, I went to my room to continue the Daring Do book.
 
When the clock hit seven, I decided to go and wait for Sweetie in the hotel’s reception room, relaxing on a sofa leaning against the wall. The receptionist gave me questioning looks, but I didn’t pay much attention to her. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait for long: Sweetie soon walked in. This time, she was wearing no make-up, nor did she have any jewelry on her. I hadn’t put any on, either, but then again, I didn’t usually wear it in the first place.
 
I rose from the sofa and bumped hoofs with Sweetie. “Nice to see you, Sweetie… but next time, tell me where to meet, alright?”
 
Sweetie smirked, taking curious glances at the paintings on the walls. “Sorry. I guess I just forgot, but you didn’t bring it up, either. Not that it matters, since we’re both in the same place. I knew that finding my address would’ve been hard for you due to the language barrier, so I figured out that you’d be waiting for me here.”
 
“Shall we go, then?”
 
“Yes.” Sweetie took her eyes off the paintings and shook her head in apparent disapproval. “Just follow me, Scoots. Quite a place, this hotel.”
 
“It is,” I replied as we started walking. “I have no idea how they’re even managing to stay up. The prices are outrageous!” When I realized we were still inside, I took a look at the receptionist, blushing. She rolled her eyes, apparently unfazed by my words. She’s just a receptionist, not a manager.
 
Sweetie opened the door for me. The sun was already close to the horizon, so I had to shade my eyes with a hoof to see. “This hotel is run by the government, or so I’ve heard. To be honest, I think the prices are set so high just for keeping unwanted guests out… most of those booked in here are either diplomats or businessponies who don’t have to pay for the accommodation. Practically, the only ponies who stay here are ones with special invitations.”
 
“That’s pretty weird.”
 
“I know, right? It seems that making a good impression is more important for the higher-ups than what actually happens in the country. “
 
I raised an eyebrow, taking Sweetie’s words in. What’s going on in Neighcaragua? You should have read about these things before coming here. “Sweetie, pray tell, what is happening in here? There seems to be an armed pony behind every corner. It’s almost like they fear that an unruly mob or an army could surprise them any moment. Really – I’ve never seen anything like this… if Celestia saw an Equestrian carrying a weapon in public…”
 
“Equestria is a stabile queendom,” said Sweetie. Her look was empty as we trod through the parking lot. “I’ve lived here for some time now, and after all I’ve seen… I can’t say I’m really fond of the way things are around here. Crime is one problem, but government-promoted crime? That takes the cake. While Equestrian social policies are pretty good, the average worker here struggles to pay for food, not to even talk about living.”
 
“Whoa, Sweetie.” You should care about these things too. What would your parents think of you now? They didn’t have the time to enjoy your success. “That’s deep. I didn’t know you’d started to care about politics and all that stuff.”
 
Sweetie snorted. “Politics? Pfft. Equality and justice is what I care about. If that involves politics, then so be it. In Equestria, politics might mean some trivial debates about building permits or the already-light taxes, but here it’s all different. There are much more important issues – like I said, the working conditions of plantation employees are terrible.” Sweetie was starting to sound agitated, making me cringe. “They are legally bound to contracts of many years, and if they resign, all of their pay is taken away! That’s like slavery!”
 
We were already on the streets, and ponies had started taking funny looks at us. “Uhm… could you please calm yourself down? I’d rather have this discussion elsewhere.”
 
“Actually, you’re right.” Sweetie leaned towards me, whispering into my ear: “They’re likely listening. The secret police is everywhere.”
 
I shivered. Sweetie’s talk was starting to get creepy, but caused my mind to wander around. I didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings, simply following Sweetie quietly. As we continued on, we took a few turns and ended up in a part of the city I’d never seen before. Here, the streets became so narrow that driving a car would’ve been all but impossible. The buildings, mostly made of brick, looked gritty and dilapidated. What paint there had been was now mostly gone, with only flakes on the ground left as evidence of the once-colorful exteriors. Even the ponies looked much dirtier. Many wandered around in large groups chattering something in Germane, occasionally shouting a few words at us. Again, Sweetie and I were getting odd looks. Sweat had started dripping off my forehead, and I kept taking nervous glances behind me.
 
“Sweetie…” I said with a hushed voice, pulling her to a corner. “What is this place? Are you sure that we should be here?”
 
Sweetie smirked, bumping my shoulder with her hoof. “Getting nervous already?”
 
“What… no!” I tried my best to sound convincing, but the funny look on Sweetie’s face told me that I’d failed spectacularly. “Look, Sweetie we’re in some poorer part of the city. The dancing place better be a damn good one… we could get robbed any moment!”
 
“We’re gonna get robbed? You’d really let that happen?” Sweetie’s scorning words made me frown in disbelief. There we were, amidst ponies who could do anything at any time, and Sweetie was making fun of me?
 
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but –“
 
“Alright, Scoots, alright,” interrupted Sweetie with a more serious voice, letting her smile die down. “Let’s stop this right here and now. Trust me – you’re going to have the time of your life. Don’t be so prejudiced. The ponies here haven’t drawn the best cards in their lives, but that doesn’t make them robbers.”
 
“Uhm… sure.” I swiped off the sweat from my forehead, stepping back and taking my eyes off Sweetie’s glare. My heart was racing. “You needn’t be so hostile, though.”
 
Sweetie fluttered her eyes, her look turning from tense back to calm. “I’m sorry for being so straight-forward, Scoots. It’s not like you could understand – not yet, at least. Let’s continue.”
 
I was confused by Sweetie’s sudden outburst. I’d never thought that she’d cared about political stuff, but I couldn’t deny that I should have shared her views. After all, I came from very poor living conditions, especially by Equestrian standards. I now lived a much better life, earning more than many of the nobles and businessponies of Canterlot, and thus, the questions hadn’t really mattered for me for a while.
 
It took us a few minutes until Sweetie stopped in front of a shabby building. Even though it was made of brick like the all the other ones, the building had most of its white paint left, actually making it look even worse than those with none. The building was big and tall, with three floors. In the middle of it was an entrance, numerous posters glued to the wall next to it. The bulky metallic door was wide open, and I could hear music and cheering from inside. What windows the building had were small and so dirty that it was impossible to see through them.
 
“Is this the place, Sweetie?” I asked, doubt creeping into my voice. Sure, I’d seen that the buildings weren’t fine nor dandy in this part of the city, but I had nevertheless expected something a bit different.
 
“Yup, it is.” Sweetie strolled towards the entry, stopping and turning her head as I didn’t follow her. “Oh, come on, Scoots! I know the building isn’t in top shape, but it’s not that bad. Besides, it’s a much cleaner place on the inside.”
 
Don’t be stupid. “Alrighty, then.”
 
Side-by-side we walked inside. My stomach twisted as the smell of something brawny and cooked hit me – I didn’t know what it was, but I wouldn’t be fond of tasting it. The walls were bare brick, save for one painting depicting the harbor of Meerperl. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with their smooth light. The patrons were mostly huddled together around wooden tables in large groups, some of them playing cards while some just talked. There was a spacious dance floor in the back, in front of a small stage. I instinctively leaned closer to Sweetie, who was as calm as ever.
 
Sweetie guided me to an empty table next to the wall, sitting down and motioning for me to do the same. A bunch of menus, covered by red leather, were neatly leaning against the wall. All had Speisenkarte written on them. “I usually have some friends here with me, but I thought it was better if I didn’t invite them now. We can eat, drink and dance all evening!”
 
“I… uhm…” I muttered, watching the other ponies carefully. To my relief, none seemed to pay much attention to us. “I’ve never been in a place like this before… and what is that smell?”
 
“The smell.” Sweetie bit her lip. “Well… it’s… I don’t know how to say this, really…”
 
“Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad. I’ve had my share of weird local cuisines all around the world. You get used to that after a few times.”
 
Sweetie scratched the back of her head, her face twisted into an awkward grimace. “It’s… wild turkey.”
 
My mouth fell agape as the words sank in. Meat? What kind of barbarians are these? “But… that’s disgusting! Ponies should never eat meat! How can their stomachs even handle it? We’re not made for something like that meat, that’s for sure.”
 
“Relax, Scoots! It’s just a part of the local culture.”
 
I felt disgusted at the thought of eating meat, and could only hope that Sweetie shared my view. “If the local culture is like tha –“
 
“Look, it’s not like they’re eating other ponies or anything! Why would it be wrong to eat a bird that’s just fallen dead of some natural cause? Or kill one because you’re very hungry? Here, they’ve simply had to resort to hunting at times… unlike Equestria, Neighcaragua sees famines quite regularly.” I knew that Sweetie was right – a nagging idea had told me that this was some sort of cannibalization, which was a completely ridiculous thought. You really need to let that prejudice go. “Of course, you couldn’t eat it in any case, since, like you said, ponies aren’t made for eating meat. Getting used to that stuff takes a while. And before you ask – no, I haven’t tried it out.”
 
“Well, I sure as hay won’t be taking a taste… but I almost understand. Almost.” Sweetie rolled her eyes; I probably hadn’t sounded very convincing. “Actually, to be honest, I don’t. You can’t say you expected anything more, though. I hope that this place serves something else, too.”
 
After an awkward moment of silence, Sweetie opened her mouth. “I understand you don’t understand. All evening we’ve just been arguing – or not really, since you’ve let me speak – but I’d say we cut this out now and start having some fun.”
 
“Sure.” I took one of the menus in my hooves and opened it. There was a lot of text, but I had no clue what it said. With no idea what the Germane dishes meant, I had to turn to Sweetie, who explained some better-sounding ones to me. There were many interesting dishes like a potato-orange soup, but I settled for the safer and more casual flower sandwiches.
 
Sweetie motioned for the lone waitress, a brown earth pony, to come to take our orders. She looked no cleaner than any of the other ponies, but her smile was earnest. “Was willen Sie haben?”
 
“Zwei mal Blumer Sandwich, bitte,” replied Sweetie. “Und als getränke – Wasser, bitte.” The waitress nodded, wrote down our orders, and trod back behind the bar. “I ordered us only water, at first. We’ll have more than enough time to enjoy all sorts of drinks later. It’s better to save the best for the last!”
 
We made ourselves comfortable in the seats and started talking about Ponyville, continuing from where we had left the night before. It was surprising how many good and bad memories surfaced once more – usually, they were mostly hidden in the haze that memory tended to be. I laughed my flank off as we recollected, taking turns, the events that had led Filthy Rich to sponsor me. The look on Diamond’s face after she’d heard the news had been very satisfying. Yet, now that those times were years in the past, I could only feel pity for our former bully. Her issues with her father had kept getting worse and worse, and I had to admit that was mainly Filthy’s fault. Sweetie and I had been lucky to have caring parents.
 
Our sandwiches arrived in no time. They didn’t taste particularly good or bad; the bread was a bit dry and too crunchy, but the fresh flowers made up for it, bringing those of Ponyville’s own restaurants to my mind. The fancy ones of Canterlot couldn’t really compare – after all, vegetables and flowers tended to be much fresher in rural areas, no matter how well one tried to preserve them. In even less time than it had taken to wait for the food, both Sweetie and I had gone through it.
 
“Guten abend!” I turned my head to the stage, and saw a purple unicorn next to a microphone. Her mane was white with streaks of black. Behind her, five other ponies were sitting on chairs, each holding an instrument – two had guitars, one a pair of maracas, and the last one held a small drum.
 
Without further ado, the band started playing some sort of swingy song. I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but the tune was cheery. A minute in, the first ponies went to the dance floor – seemingly not caring about proper etiquette or simply not having much skills, their dancing looked more like irregular spinning and jumping than the graceful moves I was used to seeing. Your dancing isn’t going to look any different.
 
Sweetie rose up, grabbing my hoof and pulling me up along with her. My chest was aching from sudden nervousness – going into the crowd now felt somewhat terrifying. I knew none of the ponies, and probably didn’t so much as share a language with most of them. “Let’s go, Scoots! It’ll be fun, trust me!”
 
I took a glance behind me, instinctively trying to find an excuse to refuse, but the blank wall offered no help. Sighing, I nodded, allowing the grinning Sweetie to pull me with her. Before I even realized, we were on the dance floor. Sweetie put her other hoof on my shoulder, and I did the same with her. The happiness in her eyes helped my nervousness ease off a bit, and soon, we were awkwardly dancing in the beat of the rhythm.
 
Every now and then, I missed the beat and stumbled, kept up by Sweetie. Thankfully, she seemed eager to correct my mistakes. It was over a year since I’d last danced, and I’d never been very good at it in the first place. My moves were far from gracious, but nevertheless, I was starting to enjoy myself. In the apparently-experienced hooves of Sweetie I felt safe. Her touch was both gentle and rough at the same time, just like the song that was being played.
 
It took some time for me to get into the rhythm, but when I did, it felt like my head was filled with mist. Every move I did was necessary, and now, they were coming automatically, almost like I was the engine of a car, all the parts moving in the intended conjunction to move my whole body. The voice of the singer helped with this – it was sweet, soft and entrancing, very much like Sweetie’s. Even though I didn’t understand the lyrics, I felt their power, hearing all the happy emotion from the mere tone.
 
At the end of the second song a stinging pain hit my back. My hooves stiffened, and I had to stop dancing. Sweetie frowned, but I just shook my head, pointing back at the table. “I need a break. Sorry.” Sweetie bit her lip and glanced at the stage, where the singer was conversing something with the rest of the band. As I stepped off the dance floor, Sweetie followed.
 
Only when I sat down did I realize how hot it had become. My sides, covered by my uncomfortably warm wings, felt damp, and I couldn’t help but note the stinging smell of sweat in the air. My cheeks suddenly felt very hot. Great. Now you smell, too.
 
“Well, did you like it?” asked Sweetie, sitting down on the other side of the table. “That was a pretty fast tempo.”
 
“Dancing is pretty awesome. But… well… my back didn’t really like the tempo. That’s what you get for sitting in a car for your living, I suppose.”
 
Sweetie’s eyes opened wide, and I saw worry in them. “Your back? I thought you just didn’t want to dance… since when have you had back problems? Isn’t it… dangerous to race, then? What if you get a cramp?”
 
“Ever since my first few races. Look, it’s not that bad,” I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’ve lived with it for a while, and it usually isn’t a problem. Besides, the seat of my racing car was custom-made for me. Sure, I might experience some pain when just driving around, but that never happens during a race. You don’t need to worry about this, really.”
 
“It did look like a problem just a minute ago…”
 
“I’ll get over it. It’s just that I haven’t danced since Silver and I broke up. To be honest, I enjoyed finally doing it… I just can’t dance with somepony I don’t know well. It’s more intimate than one would think. When I tried it a long time ago, I felt more uncomfortable than anything.” I sighed. “And now I’m getting all mushy. But regardless, if we sit here for a while, I’m ready to go again after a song or two.” The tempo of the song being played was just as fast as that of the previous ones. This time, however, there were no vocals, and ponies were dancing in a much wilder and more random manner than before. I snorted. “With songs like this, we’ll have to wait for a while…”
 
Sweetie nodded. “Sure. Just tell me when you’re good to go. While waiting for that, we could have a few drinks.”
 
Again, Sweetie motioned for the waitress to come, and ordered some sort of wine for the both of us, refusing to answer my questions about it. I was becoming a bit frustrated at Sweetie and her attitude – never had I been one to like surprises. Don’t think about it like that, silly. This place was a pleasant surprise, and you know it. A few oddball patrons aren’t going to ruin everything, and neither is some wine.
 
Soon, the waitress brought us a fancy, green-tinted bottle. It was clearly white wine, and in a fine bottle at that, though the glasses looked pretty ordinary. Without hesitation, I opened the bottle and poured the glasses full. The wine had a green tint to it, but that didn’t show in the taste – it was sweet, soft and exotic. I’d never drunk wine like that before… and this was supposed to be one of the cheaper brands.
 
“Good?” asked Sweetie.
 
“Yeah. The best.” My back was a bit better, and the band was now playing a slower song. A grin rose to my face. “I think I’m good to go now. Shall we leave this wine and go for another round on the dance floor, milady?”
 
Sweetie returned my grin, jumping up from her chair. “Sure, Scoots. Don’t let that speech pattern stick, though. I like your usual self more.”
 

--

 
The air was warm and damp, just like the night before, and my mind was fuzzy. Sweetie and I walked side-by-side, our coats occasionally brushing against each other. The soft, tickling touch made me giggle each time. We shared a word every now and then, until we came back to the fancier part of the city, marking the time for us to depart.
 
“Thanks for the evening.” I gently embraced Sweetie, who returned the gesture with a smile on her lips. For a moment, I could feel her heartbeat.
 
“No, thank you, Scoots. It’s almost a shame that you have all the races and everything… I’d rather spend every day with you.”
 
I finally remembered Filthy’s invitation. “Actually, we could do this again tomorrow. Well, not exactly like this, but still… Filthy told me to ask if you’d like to come to some sort of party held by local officials.”
 
Sweetie shook her head and frowned. “No. I want no part in that.”
 
“But we could again –“
 
“No, Scoots. Just… no. Take my word for it. And don’t go there by yourself, either. The officials are nothing more than criminals, and that’s exactly why Filthy’s there – to sell arms to the mafia that the government is.”
 
Another great night ruined by politics. “Alright, alright… just calm down. I wouldn’t have gone without you in any case.”
 
“Sorry.” Sweetie hugged me again, and I let out a laugh. She was almost as soft as my bed. “Politics just happen to be like that – when you start talking, you tend to end up raging.”
 
“Whatever. I suppose that a day off is for the better, anyway, with the race the day after tomorrow. It’d be great to see after that, though. Oh, and will you be rooting for me tomorrow?”
 
“Sure will. In fact, my entire week is free. I’ll be there every session, if I can – and since I get the tickets for free, that’s not going to be a problem.”
 
I took a glance at the stars above. “See you, Sweetie. Hopefully we can find some more time to be with each other.”
 
“I’m sure about that. See you, Scoots.” With that, Sweetie trod off. Noting that her step was just as graceful as Rarity’s, I snickered at a sudden idea of running back to her and giving a peck on her cheek. For some reason, the thought didn’t strike me as particularly weird, but I still managed to suppress the urge to carry it out. Keep your focus.
 
> Chapter 4: Back on Track
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I put my helmet on. The mechanics were still scurrying around the car, double-checking for possible malfunctions or broken parts. A curtain of light separated the garage from the outside. Every now and then, a car passed by, but I wasn’t worried. There was still time left, and every minute, the track was getting better as cars left a trail of burnt rubber on it.
 
Ground knocked my helmet. “Car’s ready!”
 
I nodded, glancing at the clock that hung on the garage’s wall. Nine minutes… that’d be enough for two separate runs with new tires, unless something dramatic happened. At least it isn’t going to rain. 

The mechanics backed away from the car. Giving a smug smile, I flipped the ignition switch. My body vibrated in sync with the engine’s rumble. After waiting some time for the engine to properly warm up, I pressed the gas gently, rolling onto the pit lane. I saw some cars parked in their squares, where pit crews were hastily changing their tires or adding fuel. Piers’s blue and yellow car was nowhere to be seen – he must have been on the track already.
 
During the out lap I built up my concentration. Sweetie was somewhere in the stands, but seeing her from the crowd would’ve been impossible in any case. After a few slow corners, Sweetie had already faded into the background noise of my mind. I swerved my car from side to side, warming up the tires, having to let a car on a flying lap pass me. The corners in the first and second sector were already imprinted into my mind, and thus, I had no problem memorizing the best driving lines. From the middle of the autodrome, the entire oval was visible. So big was the whole structure that I couldn’t help but shiver once more. The view never got old.
 
Slow left; third gear. The next corner was a sweeping right onto the oval. I floored the throttle, and was pushed back by the tremendous forces in play. In seconds, the world around me became a blur. I was inside a narrow tunnel of clarity – the driving line. My car tilted to the right as it climbed up the oval. There was no time, no place, no life – the finish line was still half a mile away, but it came closer with a tremendous speed. In the tunnel, I continued to accelerate, barely noticing the concrete wall a few feet left as I slowly swept to the right.
 
The tilt eased as I coasted to the main straight. A small dot – another car – was visible somewhere in the distance. Merely glancing at the blackboard being shown to me, I pressed on, keeping my eyes trained at the deceivingly faraway first corner.
 
My car had now reached its maximum speed – 180mph. The vibrations were hard and the roar of the engine almost deafening. My ears hurt a bit. It was thankful that the helmet had at least some sound protection.
 
As the corner got closer, I hovered my left back hoof over the clutch. The distance markers started to get distinctly visible.
 
150 yards.
 
125.
 
100. I pushed the clutch, moving my other hoof to the brake. For a split second, I floored it, feeling the seat belts constrict my chest.
 
75. Easing the brake a bit, I slightly steered the car to the left to brace for the right-hander. I put a hoof on the gear stick, and hastily switched from sixth to fourth.
 
50. The world became clearer. The tunnel was still in front of me.
 
Switching to third, I steered the car right, taking the line for the corner. Comparatively, it was fast, but after the oval bit, the difference in speed was astounding. I took the corner with ease, immediately bracing for the left-hoofer that came after.
 
The first sector was short, and soon I found myself shuffling for first and second in the slower parts of the track. My car felt slippery at times, but I managed to avoid any big mistakes. It was my luck that no cars on in- or out laps were there to slow me down, and when I again emerged to the right-hoofer which swept onto the oval, I felt somewhat comfortable with my lap. Again, I floored the gas, entering the tunnel that was the correct driving line. I could only see what was ahead of me, and felt every bump on the track with my entire body.
 
I passed the finish line without paying much attention to the board, though I still noticed that it read Vite – Piers was leading the qualifications. This time, I braked a bit later into the first corner. That was a mistake.
 
Without warning, I felt a low vibration, seeing a bit of smoke come off from my front tires – they had locked. I had to ease off the brake too soon, and not being able to do the usual flick left before the corner, I entered it on the wrong line and with too much speed. Despite my best efforts, the car pushed too far to the outside. I managed to keep on track, but had lost valuable time – the lap was nigh useless from the start.
 
The vibrations got worse now that I had a flat spot on the front tires. After a few corners, I slowed down my pace: I’d have to get a new set of tires for another run. Now that full concentration was no more needed, I coasted through the track, my mind wandering away from the track. My stomach twisted as I thought about Sweetie, who’d undoubtedly seen my huge mistake. Don’t do that. Focus. Even during an in lap, something could happen.
 
I safely returned to the pits. My crew was already out with the tires, and I stopped at my square. The mechanics surrounded the car, and I took my helmet off; changing the tires would take about thirty seconds.
 
“Setup changes?” asked Ground.
 
“No need. How is my time compared to Piers’s?”
 
Ground shook his head. “Not enough. Piers has 2:04.55. You’re a whole eight tenths behind at the fourth place. A good lap, yes, but from what I saw, you have room for improvement in the last sector… and be a bit more careful in the first corner. No sense wasting a lap right away.”
 
“Alrighty, then. Time left?”
 
“Not much.” Ground took a glance at the clock on the garage’s back wall. It was barely visible from the much brighter outside. “Under four minutes. You only have enough for one go. It better be good.”
 
I snorted. “Duh.”
 
The tires were changed in about ten seconds, and I put my helmet back on. Fourth place wouldn’t be good enough. Even though a second-row start wouldn’t be the end of the world, getting stuck behind a slower car was a possibility – not to even think about having to overtake Piers. Besides, pole position would grant a bonus point, and I had no intention of letting that slip away… while winning would grant ten, the Pan-Equestrian Championships had a tendency to get very even. Last year’s memories were still haunting me: I had lost by two points. At least Piers didn’t take the title. Concentrate.
 
Almost all of the cars were now out, and I had to take great care to avoid slowing anyone down as I rolled along the track, warming up my tires again. My body was uncomfortably sticky with sweat. Driving didn’t help with that; all of the wind flow was directed over me by the small sheet of glass just over the steering wheel.
 
I picked up as much speed as possible in the last corner. Getting onto the oval going as fast as possible was vital. I fared well, again being pushed towards my seat. As I sped through the oval’s curve before the main straight, I noted that the distance towards the car in front of me wasn’t very long. Cursing in my mind, I continued onto the straight, gas still floored.
 
Top speed. Again, I was in the tunnel. The same board as before was shown to me – Piers was still in the lead.
 
150 yards. My eyes were fixed at the track ahead of me. I could almost see the invisible red line first flicking to the left, then turning into the first corner in a wide arc.
 
125. I braced myself for the braking.
 
100. Flooring the brake, I was pushed onto the seat belts.
 
75. A small flick left.
 
50. I let go of the brake and switched to third. Turning in gracefully, I kept the car in balance, managing the slight slide by tiny movements of the wheel. The track was easy to feel. My arc into the corner was perfect, and I exited it with a good amount of speed, having to brake a bit heavier than usual for the next corner.
 
With the good start in the important first corner, I breezed through the slower parts of the track. I could feel every bump of the tarmac. At the moment, I was a part of my car. However, after a tight chicane, the motor’s rumble changed the tiniest bit. The sound was higher than normal… somehow off. Nevertheless, I continued the lap, confident that I’d beat Piers for the pole. Luckily, the car in front let me pass before the all-important last corner.
 
Once more, I floored the gas, feeling the acceleration with my whole body as I climbed up the oval. I grabbed the gear stick, wrenching it to sixth.
 
There was a loud crack, and the car began to slow down. I tried to shift down, but it was too late – I freely rolled on the oval. My speed was dropping every second, and the car that’d let me by passed me. Clenching my teeth, I wrenched the stick from one position to another, eliciting no responses from the car. I was unable to look at the stands as I pulled my car to a halt just before the pit lane. My crew was already running towards me.
 
Sighing, I pulled the helmet off. A few cars sped past me on the oval, their engines roaring. Sweat dripped down my forehead. The crowd cheered to something, but I couldn’t make myself turn my head. I hit the wheel with force, feeling a stinging pain in my hoof seconds after. Piers had won.
 
Ground Dweller trod to the side of my car, panting. “Everything alright, Scootaloo?”
 
I sighed, keeping my eyes at the board in the distance. It still read Vite. “I’m not hurt… but no, everything’s not alright. I lost.”
 
“Is there a problem with the engine?”
 
“No.” Shaking my head, I again fiddled with the gear stick. “Gearbox.”
 
Ground smiled in relief as I turned my head. “Good. An engine failure would have spelled disaster. Changing the gearbox won’t take more than a few hours. Now, if you’d rise up…?”
 
I complied, grumbling curses and joining the mechanics at the back of the car. We started to push it. Our garage was over a hundred yards down the pit lane. It was going to be a tough exertion. “We’re gonna miss the press conference,” said Golden.
 
“Good.” I kicked the car, regretting it immediately after. Stop being stupid. Punishing yourself for something like a gearbox failure is ridiculous. “I didn’t look forward to seeing Piers’s smug grin anyway… and I will wipe it off his face.”
 
The long exertion gave me time to think. My thoughts turned to Sweetie, and the prospect of hopefully talking to her soon lifted my mood up. Her smile would make my day, regardless of my position on the grid. Fourth or sixth – none of it mattered that much compared to having fun with my friend. Of course, having taken a few counseling sessions to find out ways how to best keep my attention on racing, I knew that not caring was a mere mental defense. Nevertheless, I felt like I was destined to beat Piers in any case.
 
Back in the garage, I put my helmet onto a large shelf in the back, sighing. The mechanics took the situation in their hooves right away, leaving me standing around with nothing to do. Knowing that the press conference must have still been going on, I opted to sit in one of the metal chairs and wait for the storm to pass.
 
“You can go, Scootaloo,” said Ground finally. He was overseeing the changing of the gearbox. “This will take at least a few hours. We can talk about the race setup tomorrow. There’ll be plenty of time before the race.”
 
“Whatever. Have fun with that!” I exclaimed rolling my eyes, making Ground smile and shake his head as I walked out of the garage. The day was still young – it was only about 4pm, so I’d have time for whatever I wanted to do. However, I had decided to spend the evening thinking about tomorrow and forgetting the rest of the world until after the race would be over. Losing wasn’t an option.
 
“Scootaloo!” Filthy stepped from the crowd that had formed on the pit lane. Some paparazzis were following in his hoofsteps, and having noticed me, scurried to towards my direction.
 
Filthy was about to say something, but the wave of journalists pushed him aside, pointing their cameras and microphones at me. My heart sunk, and I instinctively stepped back. “A few words, Scootaloo?” asked one of the reporters, a yellow earth pony. Her azure mane was in a ponytail.  “I’m representing Celestia’s Dawn.”
 
The two magic words that could open my mouth in front of the press had been spelled out. I sighed; if my main sponsor’s representative was asking for a short interview, I couldn’t refuse. “Sure, sure. Go ahead.”
 
“What was the problem with your car?”
 
I shrugged. “Gearbox.”
 
When I refused to elaborate, the mare continued to the next question. “Naturally, the rivalry between you and Piers has been and will be a hot topic during the championships. Piers already got his say in the press conference. What would you like to respond to him?”
 
“Wasn’t there. For all I care, Piers can go play his little games in a dark corner.” A few of the ponies raised their eyebrows, causing me to shiver. I didn’t like being in front of the public eye. “I don’t care what he says. I’m here to win.”
 
“Um… what do you think of your chances for tomorrow?”
 
“Well… I’ll try my best to win. If I can’t do that, then I’ll try to get as many points as possible.” The journalists scribbled my answer in their notebooks.
 
“But what about your chances?” continued the same mare, again pointing her microphone at me. I was starting to get annoyed.
 
“I can win. That’s all you’re going to get out of me.” Filthy had finally managed to wade through the mass of ponies, and appeared by my side. He slyly winked to me, and I winked back.
 
“Excuse me, everypony, but we have important things to talk about. I’m sure Scootaloo will answer further questions at a later time.” Grinning, Filthy pulled me back to the safety of my garage. He slid the door closed, making the mechanics jump.
 
Filthy cleared his throat. “So, you coming tonight?”
 
“No,” I replied, taking worried glances at the mechanics – I didn’t want to mess them up in this. Fortunately, they seemed too preoccupied by changing the gearbox to care. “Sweetie didn’t want to go, so neither will I.”
 
“Are you sure, Scootaloo? The food and service will be exquisite, or so I’ve heard.” Filthy had a ponderous look on his face. “Perhaps we could find some sort of compromise? You could be there for an hour and then leave.”
 
I raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want me there in the first place? You know how bad I’m in front of the media, Filthy. From what you’ve told me, I can assume that there will be loads of paparazzi there.”
 
“Having you there would boost my prestige in the eyes of potential customers.” Filthy smirked. “It’s as simple as that – it really is.”
 
Filthy’s charisma was misleading, and for a moment, I seriously considered accepting his offer. But after what Sweetie had said, I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t be tricked this time. “No, I’m not coming. Please don’t make this any harder. Whatever you say, I –“
 
“Y’know, Scoots, I know you. Sweetie has some sort of personal problems with me, but you shouldn’t let that get in the way of our friendship.”
 
My stomach twisted. Filthy was trying to use me, yet his demands had a very good basis in our past relations. I couldn’t deny that I owed a big part of my success to him. No. Don’t let him do this to you. “No. I said no. Just… stop, okay?” I glanced at the car, seeing that Ground was now listening to our conversation. He was frowning. “I’m thankful for all the support you’ve given to me through the years, but I’m not coming. If I let my focus slip away, all of that might have been for nothing! Think about that for a moment, Filthy.”
 
Filthy opened his mouth, but then closed it. He shook his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighed. “I’m being an ass right now. Of course I shouldn’t – and can’t – force you. I’m sorry for that, but if you could still consider the offer…”
 
I stomped the floor hard, making Filthy jump. “Stop it. Right now. I don’t have time for this.”
 
“I…” Pausing, Filthy turned his eyes towards the floor. He grimaced. “Yes. This is getting ridiculous. See you, preferably soon.” Filthy walked to the door and pulled a small lever, making the door rise back up. The wall of sounds that had previously been muffled now hit me like a boulder. Fortunately, the journalists didn’t reappear as Filthy trod off.
 
“What was that all about, Scootaloo?” asked Ground with a worried voice as soon as Filthy had vanished back into the crowd. “That’s not the Rich I’m used to seeing.”
 
“He just… ugh…” I shook my head furiously, feeling anxious about how Filthy had tried to coax me in his scheme. “Filthy wanted me to attend a party with him, apparently to boost his arms sales… and you’re right about him having changed. Honestly, I’m afraid that he’ll really turn into one of them.  Back in the day, he was a honest stallion, somepony to respect, but now… I don’t know. I don’t know…”
 
Ground shrugged. “It’s not like I know him or anything, but I’ve heard that he’s a fair pony. I’ll return to oversee the others. Like I said before, you can go. Relax a bit.”
 
“You’re right… I think I’m in need of some relaxation.” I walked to the open door, preparing to get swallowed by the crowd of ponies that had thankfully gotten smaller. “Until tomorrow!”
 
I quickly grew anxious as I waded through the mass of ponies. There was noise everywhere, and occasionally, a curious filly or a reporter tried to tag along with me, but I brushed them off quite rudely. My mind was already elsewhere – I wanted to get out of here and just lay down in the comfy bed of my hotel room, preferably with Sweetie there to keep company. You can’t have Sweetie every night. Remember the priorities. As last evening’s memories resurfaced, I smiled. We had had a good time.
 
The hallways under the stands were mostly empty, as access was granted only to VIPs and team members. The unpainted concrete walls looked almost like those of bunkers – it sure was lonely down there. Magically enchanted lamps painted everything with unnaturally white light, creating an otherworldly experience. And just like an alien from outer space, Piers appeared in front of me. My heart skipped a beat. We stared into each other’s eyes, and I saw that my nemesis was just as surprised as I.
 
“What are you doing here?” I asked with a low voice.
 
Piers snorted. “None of your business. Get out of the way, Scootaloo. Or, rather, out of the country. It’s already apparent that I’m going to dominate these championships.”
 
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “That’s some unbelievable bullshit. I’m better than you, and I think you know it. You should concentrate on getting over that before bragging about shit.” My temper was already flaring up, even though I understood how ludicrous the situation was. Our stupid rivalry was so overblown that it could have been from a bad B movie.
 
“In your dreams.” Before Piers could continue, I pushed him aside, walking past him. He fell on his haunches, dumbfounded. I could hear him shouting something from behind me as I moved along, but I closed my ears to his words. My heart was pounding and my hooves were shaking. This is just ridiculous.

Soon I was back outside. Piers hadn’t followed me, though a few paparazzi spotted me right away. With no intention to answer any further questions, I ran to my car. Ponies and their vehicles were littering the parking lot, so all I could do was wait. I let the others honk their horns, idly sitting in my car. In only a minute, the air became incredibly hot. Luckily, I hadn’t been followed to my car, so I could open the window without having to face a wall of microphones.

I was left basking in the hotness of the sun for what felt like hours. When there was finally enough room to maneuver the car, I turned it on, making my way out of the parking lot. I joined the slow-moving trail of cars on the highway. The trip back to downtown Meerperl would take a while.


--




When I finally crashed into my hotel room, the cool air made me sigh in relief. I sat on the bed, letting my body sink into it. Even though the soft and cool bed was inviting me to lay down, I was still anxious. Filthy had changed even more than I had thought. He used to be a pony to trust, but now... I really didn’t know anymore. Life had a bad tendency to shape ponies in ways that twisted them from the inside.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room told me that it was half past six. Getting back after the qualifications had taken a ridiculously long time. I felt a bit tired, and my thoughts drifted between Sweetie and Filthy.

Focus.

I took a firmer position on the bed. Sitting on its edge, I closed my eyes. Practice. In a few seconds, a view of the track opened in front of me. Igniting the imaginary car, I picked up speed in the oval, racing through the tunnel towards the first corner. Just like in the morning, I used the distance markers as pinpoints to time my braking correctly. I turned the imaginary wheel, and this time, the first corner went perfectly. 

A slower left, after which came a small straight. Sweeping right; 4th gear. Another straight. I was starting to get a hang of it. I had learned long ago that “dry runs” through the track were very important, and had grown so accustomed to them that I could just summon myself onto an imaginary circuit in an instant.

After a few laps, I opened my eyes. Images of the track continued to loiter in my field of vision, but I was already used to that. Sounds of faraway sirens and echoes of bangs came in from the open terrace door. Wait, what?

The rattle of bangs continued. Gunshots. I dashed to the terrace, trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. Of course, they were mere echoes, so I couldn’t find the source as I scanned over the view with my eyes. The ponies below didn’t seem to have heard the noises – they were still performing their daily routines, and there was no panic to be seen.

I juggled the idea of finding out what was going on, but decided against it. After all, it was none of my business, and I had no will to get involved in any sort of shooting.

The sounds continued for a while before dying out. Of course, returning to my mental training was now impossible... I knew that there was much more violence here than in Equestria, but the thought of a pony shooting another still made me shiver. Killing was such a horrific act that even thinking about it made me feel sick to my stomach. To keep my mind from wandering too far into the wilderness of terrible thoughts, I once more took the Daring Do book in my hooves – I was a slow reader, but had almost gone through the whole book already.

As time passed, the gunshots faded into the back of my mind to make way for the jungle that Daring was in. What if I went for a walk in the jungle with Sweetie? That could be awesome.

But just as I reached the last chapter, there was a knock on the door. I jumped up from the bed, wondering who it might be. Had I told Sweetie my room number, it would likely have been her, but I hadn’t done that. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Frau Scootaloo?” asked a timid voice when I swung the door open. One of the hotel workers, some white earth pony, was standing in front of me. She flinched. “I... uhm... Germane?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Sorry.”

The mare bit her lip, taking glances around her, as if to find somepony else to do the job, but she was alone in the hallway. “You must go zee reception... jemand... want... talk with Frau Scootaloo.”

It took a moment for me to understand the mare’s words. Her ears were drooped, and she looked like a scared foal. “Alright then, Frau. Thanks for letting me know.”

Mumbling something, the mare trod off with such haste that I was about to call her back, but it was obvious that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me, so I closed my mouth before a word got out. Being in a foreign land was weird... I’d never have thought that just being an Equestrian could make one scary. After collecting my thoughts, I made my way to the reception, walking down the ridiculously wide staircases.

When I entered the hall, Sweetie was standing by the reception desk, talking about something with the receptionist. It didn’t come as a surprise that it was Sweetie who had asked for me, but I wasn’t sure whether I really wanted to see her. After all, I did need this evening for relaxation and gathering my focus, and blabbering with Sweetie was unlikely to make the latter possible. As I walked towards my friend, I noticed a couple of unicorns by the doorway. The stallions were wearing the same brown uniforms that I’d seen on the ship. Only now did it occur to me that they were soldiers. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to carry guns.

“Hey, Scoots!” exclaimed Sweetie, her voice lacking its usual vibrant joy. “I’m sorry if I interrupted anything, but I felt like I simply had to talk to you. I got lost in the crowd after the qualifications, and when I finally got to the parking lot, you were long gone.”

Sensing that something was wrong, I cocked my head. “What’s the matter?”

“Not here. Let’s go for a walk.” Sweetie walked towards the door, and I followed her without hesitation, nervously glancing at the soldiers. The other one cast a cold stare at me, making me shudder as we passed them. For a moment, I was afraid that they’d grab us from behind and put us in hoofcuffs before we got out, but my fear proved to be baseless.

Sweetie led me through a few unfamiliar streets. In no time, the buildings of Meerperl made way for a large field, bordered by the jungle natural to the island. The edge of the town was almost clear-cut: the tall buildings simply stopped by the field. On the other side, a few hundred yards away, stood a manor much like the one I’d seen yesterday. It was surprising how close such a view was from my hotel without me even knowing about it. Only a few ponies could be seen close to the manor, while some more were by the buildings on this side of the field.

“So, why did you bring me here?”

“Because this is a much nicer place than Queen’s Rest.” Sweetie’s whole body was quivering. It was barely noticeable, but the frown on her face revealed that something wasn’t right. “And there aren’t many ponies out here. The truth is that I’m afraid for your safety, Scoots. Have you already heard what happened just an hour ago?”

Of course. “No, but I heard some gunshots from the distance. What do you know about that? Sweetie, please don’t tell me that you’ve aiding some group of rebels...”

“I’m not,” said Sweetie sternly. “Sometimes they’re too rash. Especially today. They attacked a full dinner party in the outskirts of the city.”

“A dinner party? Wait...” Sweetie told you not to go there. She must have known that there would be an attack. “The one where Filthy was? How did you know about it?”

“Look, I just had a hunch! The attacks haven’t been exactly rare for the past year!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Sweetie nodded, looking me directly in the eyes. Despite the fact that she could very well be a supporter of some rebels, my anger melted almost instantly, getting replaced by a terrible feeling of guilt. How could I not trust one of my best friends? “I have nothing to do with them, Scoots, I swear. And before you even ask, Rich is okay. Apparently, he was relieving himself just when the insurgents started shooting... quite the luck, if you ask me. I know all of this from a friend, who was working there as a waitress.”

“I’m sorry for not taking your word for it right away, and I’m really glad that Filthy’s okay, but... what did you mean when you talked about my safety? It’s not like I’m involved in this mess.”

“I don’t think any foreign celebrity is safe,” said Sweetie, taking a glance behind us. “The government is protecting you and your fellow racers, though. We can only hope that the situation doesn’t get worse.”

“Oh.” A shudder shook me. My life is in danger? 

Sweetie directed the course of the conversation elsewhere, and we traded a few words about the qualifications. It turned out that Piers had openly scorned me in the press conference, which didn’t surprise me the tiniest bit; I’d probably have done the same, had I taken the pole. 

Soon, I found myself listening to Sweetie’s rant about the lush Neighcaraguan jungles and their various perils. Hearing about the poisonous snakes and malaria-carrying mosquitos wasn’t exactly wonderful, but could prove useful if I ever had to venture in them. The prospect of a day’s hike in the countryside with Sweetie wasn’t completely out of the picture. I’d have some free time after the championships were over.

Eventually, the nagging feeling of ignoring my real reason for being in this country in the first place hit me. “It’s been fun talking to you again, but I really have to go now, Sweetie. The race is tomorrow, and I have to keep my concentration at its fullest.”

Sweetie frowned, looking like she wouldn’t have wanted to go anywhere. “Do you have to go already? I’d rather stay with you. We could go to some place to dance again.”

Focus. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. The race goes first.”