Wild Blue Yonder

“Lieutenant Turbofan, explain, to the best of your ability, what in Celestia’s name happened?!” He began to wilt from Hurricane’s gaze, but steeled himself and looked her directly in the face.

“My apologies ma'am. I just lost another friend, and I lost my cool.”

“Lost your cool?” Hurricane said. “Turbo, this report from Sub Lieutenant Nimble said you broke a gryphon's skull open!” He hung his head low. She finally just sighed.

“I won't report this incident, because we need every flyer we can get.” He looked up with hope. “But, if this happens again, you will be court martialed. We need warriors, not berserkers.”

“Yes ma'am , you make yourself clear.”

“Good, now go away and wash yourself off.” Turbo looked down, not knowing what she was talking about. Blood was still thick on his hooves, and a wave of nausea passed over him. He contained it, and went hurriedly to the nearest shower. Furiously, he scrubbed his hooves, soap in his wings. But try as he might, Turbo couldn't get the blood off. He stopped, to catch is breath. Turbo looked up, right into a mirror. What looked back was himself, but not quite. The “monster” was looking back. He fell backwards in surprise and shock.

“No.” The image tilted its head in confusion. “This is not you. You are not a monster.” He got back up to his hooves, and stared into the mirrors. “You are not a monster!” he said with more force. Aren't you? It was a voice inside of his head, but it felt real. Turbo looked around in confusion.

Think about it. Every life you've ended. Memories started flying into his head, depicting every kill he had. Listen, I'll always be here, part of you. Waiting for my chance. And like that, the voice was gone. Taking a look into the mirror, his face was his own. Looking down at his hooves, they were clean and bloodless, but scrubbed almost raw. I'll be looking for my chance to escape. From that point, he vowed never to give it that chance.

“Look, Nimb, that wasn't me. That was the war taking over my brain. Please, it won't happen again. I'd sooner kill myself than endanger my comrades with an outburst of rage.” She remained unmoved. “I was a dangerous beast, but I shoved it down, it will never emerge again.”

“You need to promise me that.”

“What?”

“Promise me that the monster won't emerge, ever, ever again, Turbo ”

“With Celestia as my witness, you have my word.” She wrapped her forelegs around him.

“Good, I like you better like this.” Nimble gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now let's go, our replacements here.” Turbo made that face of somepony who just ate something sour. “I know you hate it, but we need to.” With a huff, they went to collect their new comrade. Out on the field was a medium sized pegasus, the colors of a royal guard.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

“I'm right behind you.” They both approached. The pony stiffened to attention.

“Sir! Flight Officer Trade Winds reporting for duty, sir!” The pony nearly screamed it. When he could sufficiently hear again Turbo finally replied.

“At ease, Trade Winds. I'm Turbo, 6th Flight commander. This is my first, Nimble.” He was obviously struck by the beauty of the mare. “Hehe, don't bother with her. Come, I'll show you around.” From the tour of Ironwood, Turbo had Trade Winds figured out.

A strong, but at the same time smart stallion, sharp and with a quick wit. The kind of pony that would be good in the skies. He had a brother, who was an infantry pony in the trenches.

“4 Squadron, scramble!”

“And just as I was enjoying the quiet,” Turbo muttered to himself. “Typical.” He and the other flight leads galloped over to Hurricane, who was on a field telephone.

“Bomber intercept. 10,000 hooves. Go!”

No other explanation was needed. Soon they were airborne.

“Alrighty, now that we're airborne, here are some rules for you Winds.” Nimble was about to interject, probably something about keeping the intercom clear but Turbo cut her off.

“I'm listening sir!”

“When it comes to bombers, always attack from under or in front off, rarely from the sides. You come from above or behind, the gunner will kill you quicker than you can say ‘ow’.”

“Go it.”

“Now the opposite for fighters. Always attack from above or behind, rarely from the side and never from the front or under.”

“Yes sir.” Silence was brief.

“And there they are.” Above them was a beautiful formation, undeterred by the sight of the interceptors. Giving a quick burst into one, Turbo stopped his climb and rolled under them. His victim didn't go down. Turbo cursed and stopped all forward momentum. He began to tumble, but he caught himself. Coming just under the bomber, he poured bullets into the craft. Debris flew in the air, and with one last lurch, it began the final dive. Suddenly bullets flew past his head. Craning his neck, Turbo saw two gryphons behind him, coming in for the final kill.

“I need some help here!” Turbo called into the intercom. He tucked in his wings and began diving at max speed. The pursuers followed suit.

“I'm having trouble over here myself!” exclaimed Nimble as she rolled over their formation, dodging streams of bullets. There was one move Turbo had not yet tried. He spread his wings, creating large amounts of drag to slow him down. One of the gryphons shot past, the other recovered itself in time. Turbo dispatched the one fleeing, and turned his attention to the other. She was coming directly at him, spraying bullets. He dived away and rose back to intercept. The gryphon predicted the move, and positioned herself accordingly. Turbo abandoned the climb and banked hard right. He shot past his attacker before she could react.

Suddenly breaking out of the bank and climbing up at a 90 degree angle, Turbo turned to see the gryphon trying to follow. Just as quick as he climbed, he dived, barrel rolling to spoil the gryphon’s aim. She stopped her climb and dived faster than Turbo anticipated. Pulling an Split-S, he had shaken the gryphon off his tail, but she found her way back on. Turbo had one more trick up his flight jacket though. Flying straight and as fast as he could, Turbo faked a dive, rolling around, decreasing speed until the gryphon was in front of him. Turbo smiled. Gotcha. With a quick burst, she went down. The bombers had turned tail, and yet again, the REAF was victorious.

Back at Ironwood, Colonel Hurricane was waiting for 4 Squadron to return, she was going to promote somepony. The most likely choice was Turbo, as he had experience and skill on his side. On the other hoof, there were more stable ponies to accept the job.

“What to do, what to do.” She compared the files of Turbo and a lieutenant named Beechcraft.

“Ma'am, 4 Squadron inbound.” Her aide was speaking through an open window.

“Thank you Zephyr. Ah, buck it, I've made up my mind.”

The base approached, normal as ever. Ground crew scrambled to get ready to receive the flyers. Once on the ground, Turbo found Hurricane waiting by the armory. He saluted.

“At ease, Turbo.” His muscles relaxed.

“Do you want to see me, ma'am?”

“In fact I do.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a set of two silver bars. “These are yours. Congratulations, Captain.” Turbo was dumbstruck.

“Ih-you're-I’m being promoted?” Hurricane just chuckled.

“Yes you are.”

“I don't know what to say except thank you!”

“No problem, you deserve it.” A bit of guilt panged through his head. Do I though? “I think you should go celebrate, captain. Oh, wait.” She fished out more bars, a lieutenant’s set. “Those are for Nimble.

“Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am.” He galloped off to tell the others. He bumped into Nimble.

“Why are you so excited?” Still smiling, he pointed to the silver. She gave him a hug, and offered her congratulations.

“But I'm not done. These are for you.” Turbo opened his wings and handed the bars to Nimble. “Congratulations yourself, Lieutenant.” She smiled a huge one back.

“Thank you sir. And I wanted to mention something about this.” She undid a crumpled flyer, and presented it to Turbo.

Princess Celestia cordially invites any and all officers of Her Majesty's Services to a ball held the weekend of May 9th, in honor of the Grand Galloping Gala, which ponies overseas are not able to attend. The ball will be held in the city of Federburg in the Imperial Courthouse.

“Well, how bout that? Why'd you show me?” She put her front hoof in her face.

“Isn't it obvious?” Nimble playfully punched his foreleg. “I want to go with you.”

“Oh. Well, sure! It will be fun!” She smiled.

“May 9th, don't you forget it!” Turbo chuckled. It would be a good night.

In the officers’ club, everypony went about their business. A low murmur of conversation was in the air. Turbo was at the bar, drinking cider instead of Applejack Daniels.

Suddenly, the phonograph in the corner came to life. A familiar tune came belting out. A song written a few years ago in Canterlot called “A Long Way to Tipperary” had recently become popular, and everypony knew the chorus. After a sentence about a pony getting excited, shouting from the heavens and an extended musical note, everypony looked at each other and grinned. Suddenly, 100 sang out at once.

“Well it's a long way, to Tipperary! It's a long way, to go! It's a long way, to my Honey! To the sweetest mare I know! Goodbye, Ponyville! Farewell Canterlot! It's a long long way to Tipperary, but my heart’s, not far!”

Everypony laughed and high hoofed each other. For a group of warriors, the singing was good. Even though there was a female presence, the stallions outnumbered them and gave the song a baritone sound. Turbo couldn't hide his grin.

“There is no group like flyers, is there Falcon?” The veteran was smiling himself.

“In my experience, there is not!”

Back inside their room, Nimble asked a simple question.

“Do you know how to dance?” It caught Turbo off guard.

“No, why?” She flew over to his bed.

“So you don't make a fool of yourself at the ball!”

“Isn't it just improvised?” She laughed.

“C’mon. Get up. I'll teach you.” Begrudgingly, Turbo climbed out of bed and stood on his hind legs.

“Alright, you ready? Take my left hoof with your left, your other one around my waist.” The positioning was awkward, but he didn't complain, yet. “Now, begin moving right, and start wheeling around.”

“What?”

“Just follow my lead.” As gracefully as possible with a learner, they swung about the room. Suddenly, Turbo felt a crack in his right rear hoof and fell.

“C’mon, get up and try again.”

“This is stupid,” he muttered under his breath. Nimble must of had 20/20 hearing, because she was able to hear him.

“If you can be a lord of the sky, you can learn how to dance.”

“I'd rather be dancing around through the sky.” Turbo fell again, with an ow, again. All night long, “thud, ow, thud, ow.” But late into the night, he finally got the hang of it. With newfound skill, they began waltzing around their quarters, ending in one final embrace. Being within inches of each other, blushes spread across faces. Turbo cleared his throat.

“Call it a night?” Nimble just nodded. Gingerly, he pried himself from the mare, and once free, trotted to his bed. After turning off the lights, he fell into a deep sleep, warmer and better than any other.