I fell like a bolt from the heavens. The wind howled in my ears as the ground raced towards me. A hundred feet flashed by in a heartbeat, as I pumped my wings faster than I ever had before. I could feel the swirls of magic and air building around me as the turbulence battered and bruised my primaries. Still, I accelerated, pushing my meager magic into speed and nothing but.
“Come on!” I yelled, my voice snatched away by the roar of air in an instant. “Come on!”
A thousand feet vanished as I fought for velocity. I pushed for more and more but was still too slow. I stretched out my wings as far as they could go, grasping, scrambling for the bite that everypony had taught me about.
It wasn’t there.
I plummeted, scrambling for more speed. There had to be a tipping point. Everything could fly. I’d studied Twilight’s books on aerodynamics until the library had dissolved into a sea of equations. Even a shaped rock will fly if it's moving fast enough to generate lift, but not little orange pegasus fillies, it seemed.
The ground hurtled closer and closer with each frantic beat of my heart. The fields of Ponyville had seemed so far away when I’d stood on top of the clouds with Rainbow Dash, but no longer. I kept my nose pointed straight down. My wings were burning as I flapped harder and harder, just a blur of feathers either side of me. Every instinct I owned was screaming at me to give up. To give in before my inexorable meeting with the unforgiving ground. There was time, even for a joke of pegasus such as I, to throw everything I had into floating. I could have given up, fanned out my wings and drifted to the ground.
I set my jaw and pushed harder.
I could make out individual ponies below, and trees, and all sorts of things that would crush my bones into pulp if I hit them. My magic sparked around my wings as I strained to catch the air, to fly. Every time I tried to fly, I failed. A thousand days of exercise had done nothing. A string of coaches and physicians had achieved nothing beyond poke and prod. It would be different. It had to be. This time I would...
My nerve went.
The ground was too close and going too fast. I spread my wings wide, locking my stubby limbs and hurling what scraps of magic I could muster into just staying alive. I opened my mouth to scream as I tried to level out. It was too late. I plummeted, squeezing my eyes shut as if darkness would defeat gravity. I didn’t have a whole lot of life to flash before my eyes but–
A pair of forelegs clamped, vice like, around my barrel. Rainbow Dash’s wings flared wide as she strained to pull us out of the dive in time.
We almost didn’t make it. The ground rushed up to greet us and we hit with the bang. I went tumbling through the summer grass, and ended up in a tangled heap, staring up at the sky far above.
“What the hay, Squirt!” Rainbow exclaimed, hurrying over. “You were supposed to flare if you were in trouble. When I said, ‘We’re going to do it this time.’ I didn’t mean, ‘Or die trying!’ What were you...” She petered out as she saw the tears streaming down my cheeks. “Squirt? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I wail, beating my useless wings against the dirt. “I can’t fly, Rainbow. I just can’t. I’ve done everything you told me to do, Rainbow. Everything! Three years we’ve been doing this and we’ve gotten nowhere! What’s wrong with me?”
Rainbow didn’t answer. I don’t think she could. “I... I don’t know Squirt,” she said at last. “But I promise you we’ll get you in the air, even if I have to carry you myself.”
I turned away, burying my face in the grass.
It wasn’t enough.
There’s an electric tension in the air before a race. Everypony has their own little rituals to settle their nerves or just satisfy the gods of luck and chance. I made my way through the athletes’ annex of the Cloudsdale Colosseum with a coil of copper wire wound around my barrel, picking my way past the coaches, teammates, media. Dodging a mare with a ‘press’ label on her hat, I ducked into the private waiting room.
Amidst the Hearth's Warming decorations pegasi sat, muttering or making last minute checks on their lucky flight suits or goggles. Rainbow Dash’s harsh laugh cut across the room. She had a bottle of cider in one hoof and her wing wrapped around Soarin, but that too was part of her act. Fleetfoot sat a half dozen hoofs away on a low bank of clouds, worrying a dark tuft between her forehooves, never taking her eyes from her rival. The great battle that was a pegasus race didn’t begin with the starting gun, and even I tried to walk as if my heart wasn’t pounding like a jackhammer.
Ponies glanced my way as I passed with my unusual cargo, but most ignored me. For the athletes I was an oddity, not a threat. I was young to be competing—though not the youngest, that was Comet Bolt a nineteen year old prodigy from the Crystal Range—but it was my bulk and stubby wings that lead to my abject dismissal. Stood amongst the cream of pegasi athletes, I felt more out of place than ever, the wrong size, the wrong shape. A cripple, there just because she had a few bright ideas.
“Hey, Squirt!”
I winced as Rainbow Dash drifted over to me, but managed to keep the irritation off my face. “Hey Rainbow,” I said, turning to her. “You need me?”
“Just wanted to say good luck out there today.” She hovered in the air just above my head, her wings tracing slow, lazy circles.
Flying was effortless for her, something that she did without thought or struggle. I bit down on the familiar rush of jealousy. It wasn’t her fault I was a failure as a pegasus. “You too,” I muttered, ducking my head. Hoping she’d just leave.
She didn’t take the hint. “I’m going to be rooting for you the whole way,” she continued, with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re going to be great out there.”
“Shouldn’t you be rooting for yourself?” I snapped, failing to keep the bitter note from my voice.
“Nah, got plenty of other ponies doing that for me,” Rainbow said, spreading her hooves and grinning. The picture of blazè unconcern. “Besides, I’m thinking of giving everypony else a five second head start, you know, make things sporting.”
There was a sudden crack as Fleetfoot’s cloud discharged. She looked away hurriedly, trying to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping.
“Are we done?” I said, glowering, already sick of listening to Dash’s ego. “Because I’ve got a lot of work to do before the race.”
Rainbow’s face fell. “Yeah, I guess we are. I’m still in your corner Scoots. I want you to remember.”
“You can’t carry me forever, Rainbow.” I sighed. “And you shouldn’t have to.”
I walked away. Long experience had taught me that there was no other way to end an argument with Rainbow, and my lack of flying skill was an argument we’d explored every tuft and eddy of. I knew that I would never be half the flyer Rainbow Dash was, regardless of her promises. I’d figured that out when I spent my sixteenth birthday still earthbound. Rainbow would never admit defeat, though, so I’d walked away then as well.
We each had our own private room tucked away from the public lounge. They were small, mostly there to give a pony somewhere to retreat to, to mutter their prayers or just step away from the charged atmosphere of the annex. Mine was full to bursting with metal and crystal, pipes, wires and tools both magical and mundane. A huge freestanding chalkboard blocked out almost all the light from the tiny window and a ponykin covered in a sheet took up the centre of the room.
I frowned, squinting as I tried to read the spidering equations that filled the board from corner to corner. With ease of long practice, I picked up the stick of chalk, glanced down at the coil of wire, and added a couple of figures. Frowning, I glanced up and down the board and let out a contented snort. It would work, I assured myself. The cable wasn’t quite the quality I wanted, but I didn’t have the bits for more and, well, it only had to last a single race.
I set the coil of wire down on my workbench. Technically speaking, it was a bed, but I’d quickly rectified that. Moving over to the ponykin, I took the sheet in my teeth and pulled.
My suit was nothing like any of the competitors. If I could muster the energy to brag about it, it was unlike anything else in the world. Pegasi weren’t big on enchanting anything, save for a few of the really big machines down in the Weather Factory, and even then weather work boiled down to ponypower in the end. The suit, however, was ninety percent magical machine. It’d started life as a standard flight suit, one of Rainbow’s cast offs as it happened, but the thin layer of silk had been reinforced by bands of iron and crystal. Twin lozenge-shaped nacelles clung to the flanks, flickering with residual lightning. Thick copper cables lead down underneath the suit’s belly, attached to hoof0sized lighting-glass spheres and a mass of regulators and handles. Moving forwards an aluminium grill—the only piece of aluminium I’d been able to afford—hung like criniere on a guard’s armour, wrapped around the neck and forward barrel.
Reverently, I ran a hoof down the length of the suit, reaching out with my fragments of magic for any kink or crack in the vast web of subsystems. A few leapt out at me: a stress fracture in one of the supporting bands, one of the booster spheres leaking charge, Engine Zero still lagging behind its peer. I shuddered, stepping back, and shook myself. It would last the race. It didn’t need to go any further than that. Once I had my hooves on the trophy, and the prize money, I could fix all the little imperfections and pay off my debts. Well, a few of my debts. If I were lucky, maybe some wealthy sponsor would spot me out there, swoop down and solve all my money problems.
A bitter huff escaped me. It would be nice to have the moneymares come crawling to me for once. Maybe once I had a couple of trophies in hoof, they’d change their derisive tune.
“Hey, kid.” Spitfire's voice cut through my musing.
I debated ignoring her, but it was a futile fancy. A pony couldn’t snub the longest serving Captain of the Wonderbolts, not if she had any interest in the racing scene.
“What is it, Spitfire?” I snapped, rounding on her and glaring. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
She walked into the room uninvited, casting her eyes over the detritus of my work. “Wow, I didn’t realise you’d brought your whole workshop up here with you. I’m impressed.”
“Really?” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Sure, I’m always impressed by talent,” she continued, casting her eyes across the chalkboard. “I’ve never said you weren’t talented, kid. The weather factory would kill to have you in their labs. Hay, there’s probably some industrialist down in Manehattan just hoping somepony like you’ll drop through their window and solve all their problems. You’ve got a spark, kid–” her eyes narrowed. “–But that doesn’t mean that you should be here.”
I put a protective hoof over my suit. “We’ve been round and round this, Spitfire,” I shot back, matching her haughty glare. “I’m completely within the rules. No unicorn magic, no lingering earth pony enhancements, no lightning from any pegasus beyond myself and what I gather from the air. This suit is as much me as your wings.”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. “You got a lot of nerve. If you were one of my cadets, I’d set you a hundred laps and have you sweat it out. Not that I think you’d do it fairly.”
“I don’t cheat.” My voice was icy cold and I could feel the charge building under my hooves as my rage filtered into the cloud.
“Being smarter than the judges isn’t playing fair,” Spitfire countered. “Just because your fancy suit slipped through the gap doesn’t mean that you deserve to be here. Half of Equestria will be watching the Hearth’s Warming Derby. There are a thousand pegasi who are busting their wings trying to get a place. Do you really think you’re better than them?”
“I was faster,” I growled.
“While cheating.”
“I didn’t cheat!” I roared, stepping forwards. I had about a half head’s height on Spitfire, but she didn’t even blink. “I did this!” I jab a hoof at the suit. “I got myself to this blasted derby, and I’m going to race whether you like it or not.”
Spitfire nodded. “Yes, you are. Because you don’t care about what this race represents. You don’t care about all the five AM starts and having to wash your wings in ice because they’re agony after a day's training. You don’t know how many kids are half killing themselves to be faster than anypony else in Equestria. You don’t know, because you never tried.”
I slam my forehooves down on the floor and a boom of thunder shakes the whole room. “Get out,” I snarled. “Get out and stay out. I am going to race, and there’s nothing anypony can do to stop me.”
“You’re right,” she replied, as if we were discussing the weather. “This time.” She plucked a slim folder from under her wing and passed it over to me. “They just updated the rules for all future competitions. You’ll want to check out paragraph four.”
I snatched the binder from her, slammed it down on the desk and flicked through until I got to the rules section. My heart dropped like a lead weight as I read. There in black and white were the words, ‘all participants’ flight must be powered wholly by their own magic, prepared by their own magics as needed in flight.’
“Ponyfeathers.” The swear slipped out.
They’d crippled me. Bands of iron clamped down around me and the world shrank to a pin-prick. How could they do this to me? For all the vitriol from the other racers, for all the derision from the papers and the jeers of the crowd, I’d never broken the rules. It was insane, illogical, irrational to change the rules just to defeat a single mare, but they’d done it anyway.
“Sorry, kid.”
I glowered at her, my vision misting with tears. “You’re not sorry,” I said, spitting the words. “You’ve been trying to sabotage me from day one! Well congratulations. You win. It’s over. Now leave.” I jabbed a hoof at the door.
“It’s not that simple, kid,” Spitfire said, with something approaching genuine sympathy on her face. “This isn’t about you. This is about doing things properly. You’ve got drive, Scootaloo, and a good amount of talent, if you–”
“OUT!”
At last Spitfire’s calm wavered. “I’ll–”
“Get! OUT!” I roared.
With a condescending shake of her head, one I’m sure she’d honed on uppity recruits, Spitfire turned and left. There was no door, it was a building made of cloud after all, so I made a slow count down from ten before exploding with rage. A wild buck shattered the chalkboard, scattering shards of slate and equations across the room.
I stood there, panting, fighting down tears, my wings flared out as the blood pounded in my ears. I hated her. Hated! I hated everything about professional flyers, from the condescending way they looked down from on high on every other pony to the calm assurance that they had done everything better.
I rounded on my suit and groaned. A shard of slate had gotten lodged in good old Engine Zero. That would take still more time to fix and thunder-crystal that I couldn’t afford the waste. I let out a long sigh, and picked up one of the larger fragments of the chalkboard. It had half of a stall-speed equation on it, but I wiped it clean and began to write out by far the simplest equation the board had ever seen.
There would be no more races. That meant no more prize money and no hope of sponsorship. The comforting sound of chalk on slate filled the air as I worked out whether there was any way to salvage my finances. No magic of friendship had summoned my suit, it had taken cold hard bits and more work than Spitfire could ever imagine. It was just a shame so many of those bits were begged and borrowed.
“Third,” I concluded at last, setting down the chalk. If I wanted to stay solvent and not lose the suit, I’d have to come third. Any lower and by the end of the month, I’d be bankrupt and earthbound.
I closed my eyes. Third. With Rainbow Dash in the race, first was impossible. Fleetfoot was a favorite for second. To make third, I’d have to beat Spitfire.
A grim scowl settled across my features. I could get behind that.
I stood in the tunnel beside the steward, shivering as adrenaline flooded my veins. The sheer weight of my flight suit was incredible; even standing still I was beginning to sweat from the strain. A proper pegasus, like the royal guard in their fancy breastplates, wouldn’t have cared. They could just ignore weight like they ignored gravity. I couldn’t. I didn’t have enough magic to waste, so I made do with muscle and stubbornness.
“Thirty seconds,” the steward chirped. “Ready, miss?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. One-hoofed, I reached down and began the laborious process of starting my suit. Regulators were thrown wide, letting magic flow down lengths of cable to the engine nacelles. The steward folded her ears flat as a dull whine sprung up, filling the narrow tunnel with noise as the jets began to suck in air. Even idling, they generated prodigious force, and I dug my hooves into the cloud to keep myself rooted.
Perhaps some ponies would be scared knowing just how much raw force I had strapped across my hips. Certainly enough to burn my cutie-marks to cinders if something went wrong. I felt myself relaxing, however, as the power built to a crescendo. I’d spent my life trying to get into the air, trying to prove that I could be more than a failure as a pegasus. The flight suit, for all the danger, brought back fond memories every time I wore it.
My breath caught in my throat as a traitorous voice reminded me I’d never get to wear it again, if I failed.
“Ten seconds.”
I nodded, pulling my goggles down. Lights flashed in the corner of my vision, part of a little charm I’d designed to monitor the critical systems of my suit. I began to crank up the throttle, the roar of the engines quickly growing deafening.
“Now!”
I leapt. The sheer force of the engines picked me up and hurled me down the tunnel and I snapped my wings out, flapping my stubby limbs so fast they seemed to blur. My magic flowed around me, reshaping the air around me into a pair of ephemeral airfoils that I bit into the onrushing air. A single wobble almost wiped me out there and then, but with a half flap I stabilised and shot out into the open sky.
“–The Mare of Metal herself!” The announcer’s magically enhanced voice was almost inaudible over the roar of the crowd and the high pitched scream of my engines. “Representing the Cantervale, it’s Scootaloo!”
The crowd screamed and stamped as I shot across the floor of the colosseum, low enough to scoop up a bundle of cloud if I wanted to. As I raced towards the other competitors, I pulled up sharply and cut the throttle, forcing a stall. For a moment I stilled my wings, letting the airfoil evaporate and hung there on nothing but the thrust of the engines. Flying without wings. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I settled to the ground.
“Looking good, Scoots!” Rainbow yelled over the heads of the other racers.
A nervous shudder ran down my spine as I looked out over the course. The Cloudsdale Colosseum was, for the time being, an amphitheater, and the open side looked out across the vast expanse Equestria. Wisps of wintery cloud hung in the sky, almost impossible to make out against the snow far below, but each marked a gate that the racers would have to pass through. It seemed simultaneously further than I’d imagined, but far too short.
Fear swirled around me. Third. That was where I had to come. That meant I could only afford two ponies to slip past, otherwise I’d lose the sky forever.
“Hey, Scoots,” Rainbow cut in, sidling up to me. “Chill. It’s just a race.”
I opened my mouth to snap at her, but saw her broad, reassuring smile. Perhaps for Rainbow it was. She’d been racing as long as I’d known her and had more gold medals than I could count. For a moment, I wanted to tell her everything, about the debts, about the rules, about Spitfire’s petty sniping.
I didn’t. I couldn’t stand to see the pity in Rainbow Dash’s eyes. Rainbow would move heaven and earth to help, I knew that, but there was nothing she could do. All the best intentions in the world, and the personal intervention of a princess, had done squat to get me into the air.
Rainbow would carry me anywhere, but a pony couldn’t spend their whole life being carried.
“Finally, the one you’ve all been waiting for!” the announcer boomed, making me start. “Number sixteen. The local gal, representing dear old Cloudsdale. You may know her as the Captain of the Wonderbolts, but we here call her The Fireball. It’s the one, the only, Spitfire!”
Pyrotechnics exploded across the amphitheater as Spitfire roared out of the other tunnel, trailing her trademark smoke. She buzzed the crowd, low and slow, clapping hooves with the ponies who almost hurled themselves at their idol in their excitement. There were no trembling wings to be seen, nor the grimace of anxiety that so twisted my face. Spitfire may as well have been out shopping for all the concern she showed.
She landed next to me with a puff of displaced cloud. With languid ease, she took her sunglasses off and tucked them into her jacket pocket. I glared at her, wondering if anypony had ever managed to set somepony on fire with sheer force of hate.
“Scootaloo. Dash,” she said, nodding to us both in turn. “Ready to do this?”
“Oh yeah!” Rainbow cheered, completely oblivious to my murderous glare. She clapped me on the shoulder, almost knocking me from my hooves. “Best of luck, Scoots and remember, have fun!”
I grunted.
“Racers, to your marks!”
“Whoops, better go.” Rainbow took off, leaving Spitfire and me alone.
“Wasn’t sure you’d actually turn up,” she said, settling into her block. I mirrored her, though my block was made of solid applewood, not cloud.
“I’ve got this one at least,” I muttered. “You can’t change the rules half way through.” A beat passed. “I’m going to beat you, you know.”
Spitfire snorted. “If I had a bit for every time I heard that... You’re not going to win, kid. I’ve been doing this, literally, since before you were born.” There was nothing but calm certainty in her voice. “It doesn’t matter what fancy toys you have, you can’t beat a good set of wings.”
“Well, I don’t have those, do I?” I growled. “So I’m going to make do with these babies.” I gunned my engines, and the wail built up to earsplitting levels.
“Whatever,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve got a hundred bits riding on you setting fire to your own tail by the end.”
“Get ready!”
Snarling in fury, I turned my attention back to the race and began to buzz my wings. The other racers crouched down low, angling for the biggest kick start they could manage. I had no need of such a thing. Instead, I pushed as much magic as I could muster into forming an airfoil. My engines roared, trying to drag me over the line as I opened the throttle wide. Ponies glanced across at their competitors, trying to suss out who would be in the lead at the critical first gate.
A smile ghosted across my lips as I reached down and caressed the large, red handle at the very center of my chest. Everypony knew from the qualifiers that my suit was slow off the line, it was the biggest weakness of the design. The front plate could emulate a pegasus and extract magic from the air for use in the engines, but it struggled at low speeds. That was why I’d added the lightning-glass orbs and something I was calling ‘the booster’.
“GO!”
I slammed the booster wide open and my engines howled in fury. I snatched my hooves away from the block, and the sheer power hurled me into the air, lightning discharging in my wake as the engines struggled to go from idle to maximum in a half second flat. Warning lights flashed in my peripheral vision, but nothing else, as I accelerated faster than in any previous race.
The first gate was a full kilometer sprint away and I spared a second to look over my shoulder. It gave me great pleasure to see Spitfire losing ground, pumping her wings as hard as she could in a vain effort to match my explosive acceleration. Though, it seemed Rainbow was holding up on her promise to give everypony a head start, which was both sporting and insane. My engines were growing uncomfortably hot against my flanks and I, at last, released the boost handle.
Pegasi began to crowd the space around me, dropping into my slipstream as we jockeyed for first place. It was always a double-edged sword, leading an air race. The leader got their pick of the line through the gate, but everypony else used them to break up the air and scavenged their magic.
Pride and Spitfire’s blithe dismissal kept me right up there at the front, dueling with Fleetfoot for the lead. The gate loomed, suddenly, in front of me and Fleetfoot leapt up and over my head. I rolled, flipping upside down and dropped like a thrown rock, swinging my hooves as a rudder to turn as fast as possible.
I almost missed the gate. The lower edge of the ring brushed my mane as I traced a perfect arc through the gap, and then I was plummeting towards the earth. The second gate was a full three thousand feet down, halfway to the deck and I wrenched on my boost lever again, gaining a few extra miles per hour from the last dregs of magic from the lightning-glass. My wings buzzed like enraged hornets as I fought for some measure of control. I hurtled down, my engines screaming, but still in the lead. The other racers strained, pumping their wings even into the dive as they fought to keep up. A pony drew close, tossed by the vagaries of the wind, and I realised it was Spitfire.
“No chance, huh?” I roared.
“Got a whole lot of race yet, rookie!”
She flared her wings and I followed suit, cutting my engines as I fought to pull out of the dive. The next part of the course was by far my least favorite, a long string of winding gates designed to reward the more agile and graceful racer. Neither adjective could be applied to my flight suit.
Gritting my teeth, I sped towards the course. I pumped my wings harder, straining to widen my airfoil with my meager magic. Spitfire shot past me, followed by Fleetfoot, and I yearned to pull the boost and fight for the lead, but even if I had any left, it would have been worse than useless. I thundered through the first string of gates, fighting to stay on something resembling a racing line as the prodigious thrust of the twin engines tried to drag me off course again and again.
Place after place vanished as the technical section dragged on. My breath came fast and ragged, my wings burning from the strain of keeping my airfoil spread wide. A rainbow flash at the edge of my vision signaled Rainbow Dash making her way up the pack, darting through the rings as if momentum and thrust were concerns for inferior flyers.
“Come on Scoots,” she called, darting close. “Halfway there now!”
And we were. The third main section was a winter storm cloud. Earthbound ponies tended to think of storms as solid things and the factory-made ones were. Before us, however, was a wild storm, bristling with energy and filled with eddies and whirls. The course vanished inside the storm, marked out by coloured clouds and banks of cheering pegasi. Rainbow put on a burst of speed, trying to catch up with the pack, and I dropped into the magic-rich air behind the other racers.
The whine of the jet engines began to build again as I accelerated. The course straightened out for a moment, as we vanished into the storm. Weather pegasi had carved a broad tunnel into the cloud, but it quickly took a vicious dogleg turn, and I had to go into a wild roll to avoid smashing into the side. Still, with all the magic in the air, my chest plate was near blazing, and the engines screamed, their howls reflected back to me by the walls. The racers shot nervous glances over their shoulders as I moved up the pack, but I ignored them, treating them as little more than stepping stones as I fixed my eyes on the fiery orange tail in second place.
Spitfire was mired in a duel with Fleetfoot and Rainbow Dash for the lead. She had the technical edge, fighting hoof and tooth for the place and Rainbow was, for once, stymied. Rainbow’s every movement, every surge, was blocked by the Wonderbolt Captain with such grace it was almost dancing. If I hadn’t been gunning for the same place, I would have killed to watch the spectacle. As it was I gritted my teeth and pumped my wings all the harder as I closed in on the leaders.
After a half dozen twists and turns, Rainbow had had enough. Just as I was closing in on her, she darted out towards the edge of the tunnel and put on a burst of speed. Spitfire saw her coming, but she was on the wrong beat and, though she tried, her defense slipped and she couldn’t block Rainbow in time. Fleetfoot just didn’t see her at all.
Feathers flew as the trio descended into a confused whirl, fighting for the airspace and losing precious speed. Seizing my chance, I reached down and yanked the boost lever. The glass had scavenged a fraction of energy from my flight and I surged forwards, just as Rainbow Dash fell out of the knot and went screaming towards the tunnel wall. She caught herself before she hit, landing on her hind hooves and kicking off like it was a springboard. It would have been a fantastic trick by one of Equestria’s foremost flyers, if it had been a factory-made cloud. The storm, however, was wild and exploded outwards in a roar of unleashed lightning.
I saw the shock wave coming. I saw it and realised that there was absolutely nothing I could do in time to avoid it. A proper pegasus would have snapped their airfoil shut and rode out the shockwaves. I wasn’t a proper pegasus, though. It picked me up like a feather, and suddenly the tunnel wall was racing towards me.
The next thing I knew, I was buried up to my hocks in cloud, my head was pounding and brightly coloured blurs were racing past. A groan escaped me and I wrenched my hooves out of the fluff. Everything hurt. In fact, it was probably only a minor miracle and an attempt by the weather ponies to make the cloud extra fluffy that had saved my life. Not that it would matter in the end.
I looked up and down the length of the tunnel. There wasn’t another racer in si–
“Scootaloo!” Rainbow Dash landed hard next to me. She staggered, shaking her head as if she’d just walked into a cobweb. She was also covered in tufts of cloudstuff, a clear sign of a crash. “Whoa, Squirt. Did you see that? That’s got to be the third most awesome—racing related—thing I’ve ever survived doing. Are you...”
“Shut up!” I bellowed, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We’ve lost!”
Rainbow tried to go for a hug, but my death glare scared her away. “It’s just a race, Scoots.”
“Of course it’s ‘just a race!’” I snarl. “You were born to be in these damn things. What hope did I ever have? I’ve got stubby wings and a feathering fancy suit that– that–”
I cut myself off. I couldn’t tell her. Rainbow would rant and rave to everypony that would listen to stop the organisers excluding me. Because that was just the kind of pony Rainbow was, loyal, selfless and willing to carry the world on her shoulders. But I had to fly on my own, for once in my wretched life.
Rainbow took a deep breath. “Scoots...” she began, hanging her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so proud that you’ve made it this far.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry doesn’t win races.” Sorry doesn’t make pegasi fly.
“You’re right. So let's do this.” Rainbow shot me a cocky grin.
“What?”
She fanned her wings wide. “Let’s go. Time’s a-wasting if we want to catch back up. I know you don’t want me to carry you, but what about catching a slipstream?”
A bitter chuckle escaped me. What the hay, why not? I kick-started my engines, which stuttered into life.
“That’s the spirit!” Rainbow cheered, and leapt into the air. “Come on! I’ve got a plan.”
She accelerated away so fast, she left her trademark rainbow contrail in her wake. It took a few moments for my engines to spool up, but soon I was right there on her tail, my wings buzzing as I fought for every scrap of speed. I’d never tested my flight suit against Rainbow, but she was just as fast as she’d always boasted. In clear air we shot through the twisting course in a shower of prismatic light, the clouds flashing past as we gained more and more speed. Warning lights began to show on faithful Engine Zero but I ignored them, focusing on staying as close to Rainbow’s wake as possible.
With the howl of my jet engines ringing in my ears, we burst out into the open sky. My heart fell as I caught sight of the competition, already halfway back to Cloudsdale, but Dash just gritted her teeth.
“Okay Scoots, this is going to be rough. Hold on!” She bunched herself up and poured on the speed.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing. My hooves darted down beneath my harness as the conical shock wave began to build around her, and I slammed open all the valves. I’d seen a couple of Sonic Rainbooms in my time, from the ground. There they were safe, a wave of magic that bathed the countryside in light. At point blank, I didn’t want to imagine the damage one could do. My eyes flicked to the field and Spitfire sitting happy in second place, and I felt a growl rise in my throat.
Adjusting my goggles, I fell into the void behind Rainbow as flecks of light blazed around her. The warnings lights from my engines were going red as more and more magic poured from Rainbow. Either side of me, the engines blazed against my flanks, so hot I feared for my cutie-marks, but there was no space left for worries like that. Any second, Rainbow would–
The world exploded. Colours slammed into me like a physical wave, and magic flooded every fibre of my being. For a moment I felt it. Flying, that is. A perfect instant where I caught the air in my wings and that was enough to lift me into the sky. No metal or magic required, just the sweat on my brow. Unbound by the chains of dreams or by the petty worries of bits in the bank.
Free.
As I said, it only lasted a moment.
I stayed in the air, fighting with every fibre of magic I had in my stubby wings to ride out the shockwave. Rainbow Dash was already blazing away, trailing oddly solid rainbows as she devoured the sky between us and the pack. For a moment, I even managed to stay on her tail. Red lights blinking in my vision as my jets screamed. Ten kilometres, five, three, one...
Rainbow’s power gave out. She went wide, breaking out into open air to avoid the pack, but I didn’t have that luxury. I could see the finish line and the horde of cheering fans. Gritting my teeth, I knocked the magic valves closed and shunted everything to my engines before opening the boost as far as it could go.
Pegasus after pegasus slipped past me as I dodged and rolled my way through the pack. My flanks were burning, my engines blazing a cherry red, but I didn’t dare to let up for a second. I set my sights on Spitfire’s tail, even as the fittings of my suit began to rattle. Rainbow, coming in from the side, snatched second place from Spitfire and began a duel with Fleetfoot for first, the two ponies pouring on more speed in the sprint for the finish. I paid not a whit of attention, my world narrowed to Spitfire and third place. It was all I needed.
Engine Zero began to scream, not the usual wail of a jet but a lethal death rattle. I was so close. I pulled the booster even harder, willing just a few more ounces of speed out of the infernal flight suit. Just a few more seconds.
“Scootaloo!” Spitfire exclaimed, her eyes wide and staring at my tail. “Stop!”
The explosion was blinding. In a single flash, Engine Zero, the first thing I’d built in my quest for the sky, vanished with an ear-splitting roar. White hot crystal shards buried themselves deep in my flank and my wing folded, trailing blood as a hoof-sized hole blossomed beneath the joint. I screamed, though I could not hear myself over the ringing in my ears and my pitiful magic failed.
I fell. Like a bolt from the heavens.
My other engine still howled, stuck at full throttle and sending me into a deadly spin. Some distant instinct was screaming at me, raging at me to do anything to save myself. There was nothing. My hooves were leaden. My wings were as useless as ever.
Equestria stretched out below me, blanketed in snow as if the very clouds had come to visit for Hearth’s Warming. It wouldn’t be a painful death, I knew. The ground was an old friend of mine.
At least, one time, I’d had the sky.
I closed my eyes as a pair of hooves locked around my barrel.
“Hey, I think she’s waking up, tell the others!”
Rainbow’s voice cut across my nerves like a knife, and I shuddered, trying to pull the covers up over my head. My hooves barely moved and I groaned, flicking my ears. A low beeping filled them.
“Urgh...”
It took a long while for me to even open my eyes a crack. The air more than anything else told me where I was. It was stale and laden with anesthetics. A hospital then.
Memories began to drift back to me. The race. The Rainboom. Faithful Engine Zero finally giving up the ghost my–
“No,” the groan escaped me. “My suit.”
“Don’t worry about that, Scoots,” Rainbow cut in, her face suddenly filling my whole world. “You don’t have to worry about anything but getting better, you hear me?”
A long sigh escaped me. With more trepidation than I like to admit, I cast my eyes down myself. My leg was in plaster and held high above my head in a sling. My right wing was likewise swaddled in bandages but still in one piece, much to my surprise. The rest of me had fared a little better. My tail was a charred stump, but I’d escaped with just a layer of bandages over a few major cuts.
“The doctors said you’re going to make a full recovery,” Rainbow continued, smiling. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news, but it seems my old lucky suit had another round left in it. They got the last of the crystal out last night, you’ll be out of here as soon as your wing’s back up to scratch.” Her face went suddenly serious. “But, Scoots, when you do you’ve got to promise me you’ll never do anything that stupid again. What were you thinking? You knew you couldn’t run those engines so hot.”
I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. “My suit?” I asked, my voice just a whisper.
“What? The hay with the suit, Scoots! You almost died. What does it even matter?”
“Because I’m never going to fly again!” I exclaimed. It came out more as a rasp than a yell, but Rainbow flinched anyway. “Because that was my last hope. But it’s over now, isn’t it? There won’t ever be another, not after this.”
“Scoots. You can always try again.”
I shook my head. I had no money. No suit. No hope of a wealthy sponsor to throw bits at a prototype that had literally blown my tail off. “I can’t. It’s over.” I let out a little whimper. “Why did you even bother catching me?”
Rainbow sighed. “I didn’t.”
“What? But you–”
The door creaked open.
“Hey.” Spitfire poked her head through. “I heard the fireball is up.”
I groaned and tried again to cover my head with my blankets. “Oh no, not her.”
“She saved your life, Scoots,” Rainbow said. “I know you two had a bit of a rivalry going–” she ignored my glare. “–But you should at least hear her out.”
I couldn’t muster the energy to argue. “Fine... Whatever.”
“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” Rainbow said, slipping out of the door and giving Spitfire a kick into the room on her way past.
“I...” Spitfire began, looking anywhere but me. “I’m sorry for what I said before. You aren’t a cheater, Scootaloo. Somepony looking for the easy way out would never have put herself through what you did.”
I glowered at her. “They would have been smarter, you mean?”
A sardonic chuckle escaped her. “Something like that. You have to be pretty crazy to be a professional flyer. You have to half kill yourself every morning to do our job and... Well, I think you proved you’ve got what it takes. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
I wanted to be angry at her. I wanted to rage and scream. How dare she, after destroying everything, apologize? All that anger just drained away into the sucking void in my chest. “I don’t care,” I said, turning my head away. “Just go.”
A long silence stretched between us, broken only by the incessant beep of the heart monitor.
“Rainbow told me about you. Not being able to fly, that is.”
A flash of white hot rage broke through my malaise but vanished a moment later. What did it matter any more?
“Why didn’t you ever say?”
“What, tell ponies I’m a cripple?” I shot a glare over my shoulder at her. “That I’ve got about as much flight magic as an earth pony? That I am never going to be able to fly with my own two wings?” I turned away. “It doesn’t come up much.”
Spitfire took a deep breath. “Scootaloo. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the suit, and I’m sorry about the race. I backed you into a corner. I wanted to make you quit. I thought... I thought you were making a mistake.”
“I was. I was a fool to even try.” My voice seemed to blur into the sound of the monitor, it was so faint.
“You were right there, Scootaloo, neck and neck on the final straight. Next time–”
“There’s no next time. I’m all out of next times.” I shook my head. “It’s over. There’s no money left for another suit.”
Spitfire frowned. “Well, as it happens, I was thinking this could go to cover some hospital bills. I came into some unexpected winnings, you see.” She pulled a purse out from under her wing and tossed it onto the bed. It landed with a heavy jangle. “I was going to suggest taking it for hospital bills anyway, but if you’d prefer it as an investment...” She faded away, waiting for some sign of response from me.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, hefting the bag of bits. “You can’t have saved me and finished the race.”
She smiled. “Oh, well let's just say there were very long odds on you setting your tail on fire and leave it at that. I don’t feel right keeping it, for obvious reasons.”
“I can’t take it.” I pushed the bag back towards her.
“Eh, I don’t think you’re in any position to make me take it,” Spitfire said, smirking. She looked remarkably like Rainbow Dash when she smiled. “I’m going to leave it here. See what you think in the morning. When you get out and back up to Cloudsdale, check me out. I’d love to see the new suit.”
I groaned. “There’s not going to be a new–” She was already gone.
A sigh escaped me as I slumped back against my pillows. The bit bag sat accusingly on the blankets next to me and, after a moment’s self pity, I snatched it up, hefting it in one hoof. It wouldn’t be enough to solve all my problems. But maybe, just maybe, it would let me pay off the worst of my creditors. Maybe, I could get another loan and then my hooves on more thunder-crystal. Maybe, a working engine would be enough to finally snag that wealthy endorsement. Then, adding up all those maybes to one big if, if it all worked out, I could get myself back in the air.
A weak chuckle escaped me. I set the purse back down and closed my eyes. Visions of Engine Two swirled in my head as I tried to get some rest.
My next suit would be even better.
Author's Note
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