Wild Blue Yonder

   A flight of pegasi soared over Turbofan’s’ head, flying to R.E.A.F Hoofington. A smile spread over his face, because he was joining them. He had volunteered for the Royal Equestrian Air Force the day before, not completely out of patriotism or daring, just out of a love of flight and advice from his father; “don't join the infantry, you have wings, you might as well use them instead of your hooves!” Advice that he planned to follow. Approaching the main gate of the base, Heavy Wings found it blocked by a guard. Time to turn on the charisma. Turbo approached with a smile. The guard sized him up, deciding if he was a threat. As a pegasi with a large frame, light blue fur, a black mane and flight goggles as a cutie mark, he cut quite a figure. Still smiling, Turbofan showed him his enlistment papers. The guard's eyes narrowed as he looked at the papers. Behind the smile, Turbo was sweating. If this pony turns me down, all of this would have been for nothing. Finally, the guard grunted and opened the gate.

“Thanks,” Turbo said with his nicest smile. Inside, an aviation wonderland awaited. Pegasi took off and landed, some did wing lifts, some tested equipment, others flew around a track, still more just strolled around. Turbofan was surprised by the amount of non pegasi present, until he remembered about chariots. They would be pulled by either 2 or 4 pegasi and would have a unicorn or earth pony as a gunner and bomber. Hell of a job, Turbo reflected. Slowly flying over enemy territory, loaded with explosives, and trusting a team of pegasi to get you home safe. Turbofan trotted past all of that, and went right into the command building. Awaiting him was an earth pony secretary who looked bored out of her mind.

“Excuse me?” She barely glanced his way.

“Are you a recruit?” she asked in the most dull way possible. Nonetheless, Turbo was polite.

“Yes ma’am. I was ordered here at this specified time.”

“We just need to ask you some basic questions.” Sweet Celestia, get this pony some coffee! How can she be so bored when I'm finally giving her something to do?“Name?”

“Turbofan Engine.”

“Okay, are you capable of flight.” The sheer stupidity of asking a pegasus that shocked Turbo.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Average wing power?” He had to think for a moment.

“12.8 cruising, 17.1 max.”

“Immediate family to inform in case of death?”  If the flight question confused him, than this stupefied Turbo.

“Yes ma’am,” he stuttered. “Father is Turboprop Engine who resides in Cloudsdale and mother is Landing Flaps, also in Cloudsdale. 1659 Stratus Lane.”

“Sign here.” Turbo did as told. “Now go join the others by Hanger Two.” He trotted out the door and across to his designated place. Standing there were four stallions and two mares. One of the mares was strikingly pretty, with a pure white coat and a muted lime green mane. After Turbo joined them, they just stood there, silently. Turbo couldn't stand the silence, so he broke it.

“So, does anypony want to introduce themselves?” The one mare sighed.

“Fine, since you insisted. My name is Nimble, Nimble Flight. That's all you need to know about me.” Turbo felt that the information she provided wasn't enough.

“Awww, come on. This is the military, sweetheart, you can't keep anything secret from anypony.” Nimble hid a blush and just glared back.

“I'll decide whether I like you or not before I tell more.”

Turbo just chuckled. “Fair enough. Anypony else?” One of the stallions cleared his throat.

“I'll do it. My name is Pitch. I'm from Ponyville and I have two brothers, Roll and Yaw. That's all.” Turbo grunted.

“Quite the social group this one is. Anyway, I'm Turbofan Engine, you just call me Turbo. Born and raised in Cloudsdale. My dad owns a factory. That's all I have.” The others nodded and the rest introduced themselves. The trainees, including Turbo, were Nimble Flight, Pitch, a mare named Lemon Scented, who, ironically, smelled like roses, Sopwith Camel, Golden Wings, and Nimbostratus. One of the veterans strode over.

“Hey Crusher, didn't know the circus was in town! Look at these fools!” Turbo felt his cheeks glowing with rage.

“I dare say you might be right, Contrail.” They snickered.

Before anypony could retort, “Cloud Crusher, Contrail, buck off, I've got recruits to train.”

Trotting into view was an intimidating looking mare. “Don't mind them, somepony once shoved a stick up their flanks when they were foals.” I like this pony. “My name is Hawker Hurricane, and I will be training you for the next month. There is a lot more to combat flying than just combat and flying. You will be pushed to your speed limits, taught maneuvers no sane pony would pull off, and how to stay on a gryphon’s tail.” The ponies cheered. “Now, 500 laps around the base.” It was as if somepony pulled the plug of their eleation. With a small bit of groaning, they took off.

“You've been training for a week now, I've taught you formation flying, basic maneuvers, and energy control. Now for the most important part. A fighter flyer is just for show without their weapons. Introducing, Vickers Fury.” A unicorn with a lab coat trotted into the hangar, with a strange looking device in his hooves.

“Good afternoon, ponies. What I have here will save your life in the skies. This is a Magik Factory Machine Gun. Weighing 5 pounds, shooting 5 magic blasts per second, and strapped to your hooves. A volunteer, please?” Turbo stood up and trotted over to the unicorn. “Now, stand on your hind legs and put your fore hooves in these straps.” He did as told and Vickers tightened the straps. “Now, attach these to your head.” On the gun were two wires, with small suction cups at the end. “On the front, there will be a small hole in your flight suit that you put these in.”

“What are they?” Turbo asked.

“Neurotransmitters. When you want to fire, your brain will emit a signal saying that and the gun cooperates.” Turbo didn't understand, but he pretended to get it. “Now, eh, be warned.” Huh? “If you fire too many times in quick succession, it will overheat.”

“Not a problem Doc, I can take a little heat.”

“Well except that it will explode at a certain temperature.” Turbo’s mouth hit the floor, along with all the other recruits.

“So, you're telling me, I'm basically holding an explosive in my hooves?!” Vickers nodded. “Great! Wonderful! The thing is supposed to keep me safe, and the whole thing can bucking explode!”

“Pish, don't be so dramatic. The faster you fly, the more it cools.” It brought some comfort to Turbo. “Now, Hurricane?” She nodded.

“Yep. Now it's time for gunnery practice. Range, now!” They trotted outside. Looks like papa got a new toy.

Graduation day approached quickly. Turbo in particular became proficient at gunnery. The cadets had warmed up to each other, Nimble in particular. She began talking to Turbo more often, asking questions about his life and occasionally, answering questions about her own. They became each other's wingponies, even sharing a quarter (the beds were separated, of course). Since it was only the seven of them, graduation was a small affair. Just a congratulations from Hurricane and the base commandant, and a small party.

“Attention!” They all stiffened. The commandant stood in front of them. “Usually, there is a small waiting period before deployment, but not today. You seven have been assigned to 4  Squadron, effective immediately. You have 5 hours. Dismissed.” Turbo hurried to his and Nimble’s shared room, and started packing. She arrived a few minutes later with things to say.

“Turbo.” He didn't hear, for his mind was throbbing. “Turbofan.” Still nothing. “Turbofan Engine!” Startled, he finally glanced her way.

“Ah, Nimble, didn't see you walk in.” Nimble sat down on her bed, with a clearly distressed look on her face.

“I have something for you to do.” Turbo stopped packing.

“What could it possibly be?” Turbo said with a bit of scorn that vanished once he saw tears forming at her wonderful green eyes. “What is it?” he asked, much more gently.

“I know it all falls down to me, but I have a promise for you.” Nimble bit her lip. “Promise me you will try to get me home safe. I have a family to care about. You’re my wingpony, so you're protecting my flank. Promise me.” She stared forcefully, yet pleadingly at the same time, into his eyes.

“I promise,” Turbo croaked. She bowed her head. “I promise, and I mean it. I'll always be on your flank, Nimble.” A small smile spread across her face.

“Thank you.” Suddenly, Turbo had hooves wrapped around his neck. Nimble was hugging him. Gently, he stroked her mane.

“I promise.”