A Song of Transformation

Chapters

Prologue: A Brief History of Flight
Contact: Equestria
Revelations
Reformation, of a Different Sort
Flight School, Version 2.0
Flameout Protocol
Mending
Arrangements
Reflecting on the Past
Crystal Clarity
Brutal Truths of Borrowed Wings
[Non-canon] Intermission: A Day in the Life...
Reset and Restart
Where e≠mc²

Prologue: A Brief History of Flight

Since the dawn of time, man has been fascinated with the sky. Specifically, however, the notion of breaking the bounds of gravity and taking flight like a bird. Like all technological innovations, it was chased with several failed attempts, leading society at the time to consider those who pursued the magic of aeronautics to be madmen.

One fateful day in 1903, however, brothers Orville and Wilbur Wright achieved the impossible in Kitty Hawk, NC, getting their Flyer into the air for a mere 12 seconds and traversing a miniscule 120 feet- less than the wingspan of a modern day Boeing 747. Condescending language aside, however, this short-lived iteration of man’s hopes and dreams proved the concept of a heavier-than-air flying machine to be a real possibility, ultimately paving the way to myriad other technological and historical achievements. The Wright brothers didn’t know it, but their proudest 12 seconds kindled a flame that led to revolutions in business and leisure travel, the art of war, and exploratory endeavors such as the Apollo 11 landing… I like to think they would be proud of that.

In the late 2000’s, the Boeing 737 became the most commonly sought-after airplane by airlines around the world for its fuel efficiency, ease of use, and overall operational cost. By 2027, the demand for new 737 pilots was so high that there weren’t enough CFIs, or Certified Flight Instructors, to go around. This is a major problem in the business of earning a Commercial Pilot’s License, as the B737, like all commercial aircraft, requires 2 pilots to operate. In response to this shortage, a think tank that happens to be a subsidiary of Space-X conceptualized a modification to the onboard Flight Management Computer, or FMC, that could take the place of the Pilot Not Flying during critical phases of flight. The modification, essentially a dumb AI of sorts, would perform duties such as callouts for the Captain of the aircraft, and remind him of steps in the checklist if he should forget and attempt to continue to a step he is not ready for. The FAA had no objection to such an innovation, so long as it went through rigorous safety testing to ensure that it would not endanger the lives of everyone in the sky.

In July of 2031, the first Solo-enabled Flight Management Computer, or SFMC, was retrofitted into a Boeing 737-300 series aircraft, and the first solo 737 flight of all time occurred. The project was hailed as a massive success, becoming a widely adopted tool by Flight Schools worldwide by the end of 2035.

One such flight school is the R. Stover Flight Academy in Portland, OR. The Stover Academy, as students call it, has a full fleet of Cessna Citation aircraft, for the private students, with its crown jewel being a trio of 737-400s that have been retrofitted with SFMCs, although the students have taken to just referring to the innovation as the FMC, despite non-modified computers still existing today, in 2037.

My name is Steve Axios, and I come from a long line of rather nondescript members of society that were never particularly good at any one thing or another. I was among the first in my family to find my niche, and the very first to earn my Private Pilot’s License, much less be accepted into a commercial flight academy. Each day that I get to fly is a gift, and a dream come true.

Or, at least it was. But don’t let me confuse you by jumping all over the place; I’ll start at the beginning, with the day that my world was turned upside down.

Contact: Equestria

It was about 4 months ago when I started having these dreams about flying. The feeling of the wind rushing by my face, the strain on my wings as I perform tight loops and graceful maneuvers, the feeling of weightlessness as I dive towards a lush field at breakneck speed… it’s all so surreal. And enjoyable, no less. But sooner or later, you always have to wake up…

That fateful day started like any other. Cycle down to the flight school, shower and shave in the locker room, morning briefing. Preflight inspection, cold and dark startup; the boring stuff.

As my instruments calibrate, I check the briefing sheet; my eyes locking onto the weather forecast, which says that there’s a storm just off the runway. I shift in the pilot’s seat, uncomfortable with this development. Today was not supposed to be an instrument flight. I’m ready to taxi after a short couple of calls to confirm the accuracy of my paperwork, and a lecture from my instructor about how I need to “…man up and fly the damn plane.” Cute, but ineffective at boosting my confidence.

I have my clearances, and I’m lined up on 28 Left. I throttle my engines to 25% thrust, and they take a few minutes to stabilize. Then 50%, and I release the brakes, my engine runup procedure complete. The plane lurches forward, shoving me back in my seat. 75%, I’m picking up speed. 25 knots, then 30. I reach full thrust, and I’m a quarter of the way down the runway. 45 knots, then 50. I feel alive; every bump in the pavement, the intense vibrations as the engines pull copious amounts of air through them, I feel it all through my seat. The plane seems to have a mind of its own, with only one objective: fly.

The plane calls out to me: “V1.” I can no longer abort takeoff; not safely anyway. I move my right hand away from the throttle so that I cannot accidentally abort takeoff. “Vr,” the computer intones, as vortices begin to noticeably trail off my wings, condensing the cold, humid dawn air. My nose begins to lift on its own, and although my computer doesn't acknowledge it, I mutter "Vlof" under my breath, one of my nervous habits from when I first started flying. 95 knots, three quarters of the way down the runway, and I vaguely hear the call out “V2” come from the speakers. I pull up and the plane leaves the ground, a feeling of weightlessness taking over momentarily. I switch my radio to the Approach controller’s frequency, even as a plate with my call sign and tail number is sent down a tube from the tower to a cold, dark, sterile room that serves as the work space for the controllers that my flight now rests in the hands of.

All commercial aircraft, and some private ones, are equipped with an instrument called the Traffic alert and Collision Avoidance System, or TCAS, although it is quite limited - even after the implementation of ADS-B in 2020. The controllers that I'm being handed off to can tell me more than my own instruments are capable of, and they make the big bucks for no reason other than the stress of handling all flights in this most dangerous phase of their journey. In my headset, I get a faint inquiry: “November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu, Portland TRACON. Radio check.”

“TRACON, November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu. I read you five-by-five,” I respond, before making my request. "Requesting heading one zero five to avoid weather for the next, er..." I pause to check recheck the radar overlay that's come up on my display. "... fifty knots.”

A few moments later, after a short tone as another pilot blocks the controller by trying to broadcast at the same time, my heart sinks: “That’s a negative, four five Zulu." The signal cuts for a moment, overwhelmed momentarily with static before the controller is audible once again. "...available flight path. Maintain current heading, ascend 2000 feet, over.”

"I need you to repeat that, TRACON. You were breaking up."

"Denied as requested, four five Zulu. Any storm vectoring would impede the only other available flight path. Maintain current heading and ascend 2000, that is two zero zero zero feet."

I have no choice; I read back my instructions, “Wilco. Maintain heading, ascend 2000 feet, four five Zulu.”

I engage the autopilot, and not a second later I’m in the clouds. I have no visibility, the true definition of flying blind. The entire plane shudders, tossed around in the ever-shifting winds like a ragdoll. Suddenly, my plane is struck by lightning; it doesn’t bring me down, but I’m scared out of my mind. I take my hands and feet away from the controls, ensuring I don’t do anything stupid. I’m struck 3 more times, after the last of which the aircraft is engulfed in a blinding light. This isn’t right, not one bit at all. The plane jolts, and I pass out; my last words, “oh shit” not even able to escape my lips before I’m pulled into the warm, black embrace of unconsciousness…

When I come to, my plane is falling- fast. Alarms wail urgently. A loud, incessant chirping noise is coming from my plane’s computer; an overspeed warning, my brain sluggishly recognizes. I can barely breathe from the sheer force of my dive, and I slowly realize that whatever air I am able to inhale is not supplying nearly enough oxygen. Suddenly, TCAS begins to complain: “Glide slope. PULL! UP!” I strap on my positive pressure mask, anxious to be able to breath normally. “TERRAIN. TERRAIN. PULL! UP!” I disengage the autopilot, pulling up and reducing thrust to forcefully reduce my speed. A siren blares for a few seconds while I perform this maneuver; the computer wants me to know for sure that I had taken control. The aircraft groans loudly in response to the sudden stress, protesting at the abuse that it is receiving. All alarms cease. I reprogram the autopilot, and re-engage it. Somehow, I still have no visibility.

Suddenly, I break through the clouds, and I can see blue sky. I key up the mic, intent on reporting my experience to Approach; if I went through that, I can only imagine what other pilots of smaller planes are experiencing. “Portland TRACON, November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu. I think you need to close that flight path.”

Silence.

“Portland Approach, November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu. Can you read me?”

Still nothing on the other end. I begin to panic. Checking each frequency one by one, and without regard for proper phraseology, I repeat the same statement over and over:

“To any aircraft and controllers on this frequency, this is November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu. Please respond if you can hear me. Unrecognized location, and possible damage to my aircraft. I need assistance immediately. Somebody, anybody, respond.”

Nothing on the radio, anywhere. I’m now shaking out of fear. What if I’m dead, and this is what the afterlife looks like? I’m screwed; none of my instruments read any real change. I have a decision to make; land, and figure out what happened, or continue to fly. I have about 5 hours of flight remaining, in terms of fuel; after that, I have no choice but to land. If crashing can be considered equivalent to landing, that is. I can see the headlines now, and a fitting epitaph they would be: “Local Eagle Scout found dead among plane wreckage / NTSB report names airborne scout as pilot flying in fatal crash.” That’s it, I’m landing. I key up the mic on my radio:

“Pan-pan, pan-pan. Any aircraft on this frequency, be advised. This is November Charlie Delta one one four five Zulu, declaring emergency. I’m landing in a field, just west of the small town approximately 8 nautical miles east of my position.” I’m aware that nobody can hear me; or, rather, that nobody will respond to me. At this point, announcing my intentions is but a formality of habit. It’s possible that my radio is malfunctioning… or worse. I reach over to my transponder unit, dialing in the number 7700- the universal code for an emergency. Any nearby pilots and controllers will receive my 'squawk' code, and will be able to respond appropriately.

It takes me most of my descent to realize that there’s something… off… about the landscape below. It’s too vibrant to be central Oregon, and there are no settlements this small in such close range to Portland International, where I had taken off from. But I have committed to this landing, and I can figure out my next course of action after I’ve removed one variable from the situation. I switch on my strobes, and deploy flaps and landing gear. My radio altimeter sounds off to me: “Two thousand, five-hundred.”

I begin another orbit, the last one in my descending loop before I commit to short final. “One thousand” the plane calls out helpfully. “Five hundred.” I line up for landing, a good half mile from the beginning of the clearing I intend to use. “Approaching minimums.” I disengage the autopilot, intent on hand flying this makeshift landing. I also arm the auto brakes and spoilers. “Minimums.” My charts are useless; this is clearly not a landscape that corresponds to an existing chart in my collection. “One hundred.”

I clear the tree line. “Fifty. Forty. Thirty. Twenty.” I pull up slightly, flourishing the nose of my plane. “RETARD. RETARD. RETARD.” I simultaneously kill the thrust of my engines and set down the front landing gear. There’s a lever on the front of the engine controls; I lift it, and pull the throttle back behind idle; the spoilers deploy, and the brakes apply, even as a set of flaps open up on the engine cowls to apply reverse thrust. I use full reverse, just to ensure that I don’t impact with any of the buildings. My plane comes to a screeching halt, and I quickly power down; the cockpit is cold and dark once more. I grab my pilot’s bag, and the small survival kit that’s packed in the forward bulkhead. Time to figure out just where this storm has sent me…

The terrain is very smooth, almost cartoon-like. I muse at how much care this place’s parks service must put into caring for the plant life, noting how lush and green the grass is. Back home, most people would kill to have grass this green. And the sky is a perfect azure hue, unmarked by the contrails of passing aircraft- except, of course, for where my plane had so rudely interrupted the flawless background. How rude of me, I find myself thinking, this must’ve been some sight before I made a mess of it. Truth be told, my abrupt landing had made a rather rude mess of the meadow I had landed in. Tire tracks could be seen for the whole three quarter mile it took for my 737 to come to a stop, and the thrust reversers had sent several small plants and rocks flying forward- a testament to the power of the machines that Boeing produces.

I can smell the unadulterated scent of the forest, something I have not experienced since… I can’t remember the last time I experienced it. Has it really been that long since I went camping? My thoughts are interrupted when I run into the first sign of intelligent life aside from myself. I find myself eye to eye with a purple unicorn (that also has wings? Dammit, is this a unicorn or a pegasus?!), with a darker purple mane that has two streaks of different shades of purple running through it. Its tail matches its mane, and its deep, purple eyes speak a wisdom that no mere human can understand. I can see its mouth move, and I hear a female voice in the background, all auditory input drowned out by my study of its appearance. With a start, I realize it’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask her, realizing that this unicorn/pegasus is a mare. She's disheveled, almost as if she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, and there’s some kind of tattoo on her flank, a purple star overlaid on a white star, surrounded by 5 smaller white stars. This mare looks familiar. Suddenly, I realize that’s not a tattoo, but a cutie mark. Ergo, it’s almost as if- oh, no. This is NOT happening.

“I said, hi. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I was wondering if you would be able to explain the loud screeching noise that came from this direction about 15 minutes ago.” Yup, this is happening.

“Wait… you said Twilight Sparkle? As in…” I fix Twilight with an incredulous look, unable to finish my sentence. The pieces begin to slot together, forming a narrative that I hesitate to believe to be possible. If this was Twilight Sparkle, then my original assumptions about this pony’s species was flawed; the term is alicorn.

Further, as I begin to feel a pit in my stomach, I realize that the lush, unrealistically pristine and colorful landscape should’ve tipped me off to where I had landed sooner. But first, I needed to confirm my suspicions. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that-” I swallow, the rest of the sentence caught in my throat. Finally, I manage to choke out the end of my question: “That this is Equestria, do you?”

Twilight studies me for a moment, uneasily adjusting her folded wings, and I get the feeling that she’s gauging my reaction to what she will inevitably tell me is the truth. “Yes. This is Equestria. Does that surprise you?”

I can’t even answer; I just collapse to the ground. “Holy shit…” is all I can manage, and then I’m once again greeted by the sweet, dark embrace of unconsciousness…

When I awaken once again, I’m in a tree. I wish I could say I'm joking, but I'm distinctly reminded of a hollowed-out tree I spent a decent amount of my early childhood in. And I don’t mean “in a tree” as in I'm in a treehouse sitting in the branches, I mean “in a tree” as in literally IN A TREE. But how did I get here? I can feel a throbbing pain in the back of my head, making concentrating difficult. So, for lack of anything better to do, I return to studying my surroundings. The deciduous plant has been transformed into a library of sorts, and colorful volumes fill the shelves to the brim. Either I'm hallucinating, or...

I look around, trying to make sense of my current location, and my pilot’s bag catches my eye. It has been sifted through, undoubtedly by the talking pony mare that calls herself Twilight Sparkle. I’m not surprised; a human like me can’t be a common sight in Equestria- assuming, of course, that I’m actually in Equestria, and not hallucinating as my precious 737 still hurtles towards certain doom. Speaking of my aircraft, because until I land in Portland once again, it IS my aircraft, I doubt this Twilight Sparkle character would find anything upon searching it; she wouldn't know how to open the plug door. Granted, this can’t actually be happening; Equestria is the setting of a children’s show… that I happen to enjoy on my free time. A guilty pleasure, if you will. It’s fake, the brainchild of some random writer who doesn’t even seem to get proper credit anymore.

“Gah!” I release a shout of pain, as I pinch myself in a vain attempt to wake up. Nope, not dreaming. But still… this shouldn’t be possible. I hear the clip-clopping of hooves as Twilight enters the room, her assistant...- oh yeah, Spike!- following close behind. I turn around in the chair that I had so kindly been placed upon while unconscious, to get a better view. She’s ascending a staircase, which I presume leads to the front door; seeing as there is no obvious door anywhere in this room. With a start, I realize I must be in Twilight’s private study…

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Spike observes. He seems to be barely containing his excitement, almost as if I’m the most interesting thing he’s seen this week. “So, Twilight tells me you came here in some kind of flying machine! Wanna tell me about it? Where’d-” He tries to continue rambling off questions, but Twilight gives him a mouthful of her now-halfway-groomed tail. She's cleaned up a bit, but the tell-tale signs of sleep deprivation (or, now that I think of it, a state of insanity) are still present in the eyes of those who know what to look for.

I look at her, uneasy at the realization that she’s probably figured out that I know I don’t belong here. But from her point of view, it would not be HER that’s physically impossible; it would be ME. She fixes me with an icy stare, one that seems to be analyzing my soul.

“You caused quite the mess on the way in,” she remarked. Yup, she's mad... although, which definition of the word applies here is yet to be determined. A small voice in the back of my head reasons, if Twilight is actually in front of you, then it stands to reason that the rest of Ponyville would also be in play. “But first, your…”

“Plane,” I offer. “Its called an airplane.”

“Right…” Twilight makes an odd expression, as if she’s taking a mental note of the strange terminology I had just thrown her. Of course she’s taking a note, dimwit, the voice in my head chimes in, that’s what Twilight does. You should run before she hooks you up to a bunch of wires to run tests on you! Stupid voice, not helping in the slightest. “Your… plane… appears to have taken some serious-looking damage when you arrived here. Not nearly as much as that meadow you landed in, which I can assure you it was not fun talking down the townsfolk over that one, but in the meantime, you’re going to be stuck here. Not like you belong here in the first place…” Twilight spits, clearly unhappy about something. Noticing my visible flinch at the harshness of her tone, she seemingly changes character and adds softly, “Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Steve,” I reply. “My name is Steve Axios. And honestly, I don’t see how ‘here’ is possible; in my world, Equestria is part of but a work of fiction.” I say the last part slowly, gauging Twilight’s reaction. For an a supposed-to-be fictional mare, she has a real (in both senses of the term) amazing poker face.

“Well, Steve, there are quite a few ponies you’re going to have some explaining to do to. Quite frankly, everypony went crazy when your… plane just appeared out of nowhere.” Twilight is clearly unused to the new word that she now has to use, given the way she paused before saying it.

"But is it really so difficult to make peop- I mean, ponies panic?" I counter. "All it really takes is the unknown to reveal itself... way I figure, I count as the unknown right about now."

On my own stumble in vocabulary, Twilight loses all forms of seriousness. With a stifled giggle, she remarks, “Well, it seems I’m not the only one that has to learn a new way of speaking!” Suddenly, Spike starts gagging. We both look towards the purple and green baby dragon, as he burps some emerald flames and a scroll materializes- a letter from Princess Celestia, I imagine.

Spike breaks the seal, and begins reading: “My most faithful student Twilight, it has come to my attention that a strange object arrived near ponyville with a creature that is not of this land inside of it. Please come see me at once, and bring the creature with you. Yours truly, Celestia. P.S.- if your friends want to come, I also have some news for them that I'd be more comfortable discussing face to face.”

Suddenly queasy, I turn to Twilight. “Canterlot?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Canterlot.”

I’d always wanted to ride on a train. And something tells me that the experience would’ve been more enjoyable if it were a human train. As it was, the benches were designed with ponies in mind; not people. I had spent most of the ride conversing with Twilight’s friends.

Applejack was, for lack of a better word, accepting of my story. In her words, “If Twilight trusts you, then I believe you’re telling the honest truth!” She had then proceeded to shake my hand with both of her front hooves, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process.

Rainbow Dash was incredulous towards the fact that humans had invented a self-powered machine that allowed them to fly. I guess she figured we were content to live our lives on the ground, unlike the earth ponies who had created ha-- no, hoof-operated contraptions for the purpose of defeating gravity. I like her; she speaks her mind. A little tactless at times, but straightforward. And, apparently, all over the stories I had of attending airshows when I was a little boy- especially the ones about watching the Blue Angels perform. I guess that anything comparable to the Wonderbolts is instantly 20% cooler in her mind.

Rarity had been fascinated with my flight school uniform, asking all kinds of questions about why we had them (“OH, darling! Looking the same is so BORING; why not have a little individuality?”), who designed them (“This is just simply disgusting! I MUST teach them how to design PROPER fashion!”), and everything else. I’m pretty sure she knows more about this shirt and tie than I do, and I’ve been wearing it every day for the last 2 months… but I guess that's why I'm not a seamstress.

Fluttershy was initially reluctant to speak to me. For that matter, she still is; I guess I'll just have to wait until she decides she's ready. She’s extremely kind, although a soft spoken mare of very few words. And I mean VERY few words; she says less than the ground controller does to any single pilot at the most busy of airports. Not much else to say until I've had a chance to get to know her better.

And Pinkie Pie… words cannot describe my first encounter with her. While the others had stopped and stared at the human that had somehow made his way into Equestria, Pinkie had simply said “Hi Steve!” as she bounced on by and into the train car. I looked at Twilight, expecting an explanation of how she had known my name without being told it, but all I got was a shrug which was backed by the nods of the other 4 ponies that remained outside. Although, Pinkie HAD been the only one to think of bringing a snack to share; when I had started opening a protein bar to make up for the fact that I had not eaten since Breakfast, close to 5 hours ago, she had insisted I had one of her cupcakes instead. I tell you, she may be creepy AS FUCK on first impression, but she’s an AMAZING baker; there were no words to describe the heavenly taste of that cupcake.

And I would give everything to be back on that train, because Celestia is being a right pain in my ass. From the moment I had gotten to a knee, dipped my head, and intoned “your highness,” she had been out for my head; most likely, preferably on a pike. Of course, I would be surprised if she WASN’T pissed; I HAD just landed an uninvited plane in her kingdom after all. But then again, I also hadn’t expected to be treated with the same hostility that she would likely show Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings.

At the moment, she is ripping me a new one about the amount of effort that would have to go into repairing the damage I had done. Apparently, the plan is now to move my plane to the Wonderbolts HQ for safekeeping, as well as to attempt to send me back where I belong, since it is the only location in Equestria that has a paved runway. She’s been ranting for the last 10 minutes about the “magical process of maintaining such a serene landscape..." and something about my jet's exhaust, or... something. Quite frankly, she could be speaking to me in Latin right now, and she'd be making more sense in my mind.

I've found myself lazily watching her flowing mane, trying to discern some kind of pattern. That is, of course, as soon as I had cataloged the gold shoes she wore on her hooves, and the elegant gold yoke on her chest for the anomalies that they were. Apparently she has figured out that I haven’t been paying attention, though, as she’s stopped talking and is staring bemusedly at my blank expression.

“Something on your mind, Steve?” she asks coyly, apparently having deduced where my mind has gone. My cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” I stumble out a reply, trying to hide the break in my emotional wall. “The fact that there doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the flowing of your mane, the fact that you might as well be speaking horse Latin to me with all this stuff about magic, and the fact that you haven’t even taken the time to ask my side of the story, preferring to assume that I INTENTIONALLY found a way here, despite my arrival here being my first clue that Equestria is more than a fictional place in a Children’s TV show.” Celestia appears taken aback for a moment, then resumes a rather irritated composure. But at least she hears me out, so that’s something.

I start at the beginning, when my passion for flying had originally been found; the Hillsboro Air Show, in the Summer of 2029. As I described the perfectly timed maneuvers of the Blue Angels, (much to Rainbow Dash’s delight), Luna had walked in and taken a seat to hear my story. I got to the dreams, and the Princess of the Night has her own question: “Do you ever get to see yourself in these dreams?” Her voice is smooth as silk, calming yet authoritative. I think I like her more than her sister, personally.

“No, I don’t. I only feel the wind, the strain on my wings, and the sheer joy of flying. The scenery has always seemed a little too lush to be real, but at the same time it’s a dream. I don’t really know what I should've expected.” I explain. Luna doesn’t seem satisfied (is it possible she’s seen my dreams since before my little accident?), but she lets me continue. I describe the events leading up to the inadvertent portal hop, including my request to ATC that I be redirected around the storm, and the quadruple lightning strike that had been my observation of the portal’s opening.

“I’m not sure that my aircraft can handle another journey like that, and either way I only have a limited supply of fuel; unless, of course, you have a spare tank of Jet-A lying around somewhere that is,” I glance at Celestia, who simply shakes her head. “Then we need to figure out a real plan, first. However, just so you understand, if my plane can’t make it home then I don’t go either. I don’t feel like trying to explain to the owners of that 737 that their 45-million-dollar investment is lost to another world that’s not accessible except by freak accident. That means we need to have a backup plan in case I’m stuck here,” I add the last part, just to reduce the rage that I’m sure Celestia will react with. But she’s perfectly calm, studying me through narrowed eyes.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Celestia offers, “but no guarantees.” I nod in agreement; it’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing. And I get the feeling that I’ll be glide-landing an empty, dead airliner by the end of this…

“And you expect me to just sit here and be okay with this?!”

Okay, I admit. I could’ve been a LOT more tactful with how I explained the situation to Spitfire. The golden pegasus mare, with her fiery-colored mane and para-military dress blue uniform is glaring at me over the brim of her blue-tinted aviators, having taken a break from the pacing back and forth in front of me. I stare straight ahead, memories of my couple years in the Army coming to mind; Spitfire is comparable to a pissed-off Drill Sergeant.

“No, ma’am!” I reply involuntarily, and rather loudly. I feel like a private all over again. “I just hoped that we could discuss this in a civil fashion, ma’am!” Spitfire stops cold, staring me in the eye (having taken a hovering flight in her office to do so at my eye level) as she crosses her forelegs over her chest.

“Oh, so you figured that you could waltz into my office and talk about using MY landing strip in a fashion that shuts it down to MY team, and that I wouldn’t be pissed about it, huh? Tell me, why DOES my airstrip need to be closed off to the Wonderbolts whenever you’re taking off and landing?” She asks me, her muzzle mere inches from my face, daring me to make a move by sheer proximity alone. Yup, Spitfire as DS confirmed.

“First off, ma’am, I didn’t just waltz in- I knocked. Second, I expected you to be pissed; it’s kinda the most reasonable reaction to being told that a higher level of the chain of command has commandeered your property for other use- even in my world’s military and paramilitary organizations.” The golden pegasus is turning a shade of red that I would normally back off from. It’s true; Celestia had sent a scroll bearing orders for Spitfire along with me. Spitfire was not impressed in the slightest. However, I press on. “As for why it needs to be closed off, ma’am, that’s a matter of safety. I don’t imagine you want any of Equestria’s best flyers getting sucked into one of my engines, now do you?”

Spitfire stops cold; I’ve clearly struck a nerve. Honestly, if Rainbow Dash hadn’t been in the back of the room, I’m sure that Spitfire would’ve resorted to blows right then and there. When the officer finally comes to a point that she can speak coherent words, her voice is colder than dry ice.

“No, I wouldn’t. But let me be clear; one mishap, and you WILL be thrown in the brig. Do I make myself clear?” She asks it in a tone that’s kind, but by the expression on her face I can tell that she wants nothing more than my sorry ass on a silver platter. She has nothing but contempt for the way that her hooves are tied, and the fact that my hands are similarly tied so that I cannot release her from her responsibilities in this bat-shit crazy plan. I’m not even comfortable with it, since the creation of the lightning for the portal requires 4 brave pegasi to put their lives in the path of my 737-4, and its all-consuming fans.

At the moment, though, I’m reading every bit of material I brought with me on maintaining a 737-400, which is admittedly not much. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle have all volunteered themselves to help me with my attempts to repair the most important damage to my aircraft (“Cutie Mark Crusaders, Aircraft Mechanics! Yay!”), and though I didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was likely the only aircraft of its type they would ever encounter, nor that the art of repairing such a craft was something many humans spent years learning how to do properly, nor even that I wasn’t well-enough versed in the material to be sure that the plane would even fly after we were done fixing what we could, I still welcomed their help. These ponies, the young, the old, and all of them in between were willing to treat me as a friend; save for Spitfire, that is. She may not be what I consider a friend, but I still respect her. It takes a lot of time and effort to run a unit like the Wonderbolts; something that I doubt I could do if I had to spend a day in her hooves.

My number 1 engine had taken a heavy load of debris; I could not start it until everything had been cleaned out and the intake blades checked for damage. And even then, that's not an ideal situation; ideally, it would be replaced with a new engine that's in pristine condition by a mechanic, who would know the structure of my aircraft forwards, backwards, and in high heels. In its current state, I have no clue if it will even be able to spin up again. My primary radio was fried by an electrical surge from the lightning, although my secondary still worked. A stroke of luck, thank Celestia- and that’s something else. These ponies act like their ruler is some kind of goddess, although with the whole “living over 1000 years” thing I kinda understand why. And the curses are rubbing off on me, possibly not for the better.

After doing the math, and allotting for fuel usage in an engine test, Twilight and I come to figure that at the adjusted weight for consumed fuel, and for the difference in air density between Earth and Equestria (this had been brought to my attention when my altimeter had read me at 4000 feet below sea level, despite being on a cliff at roughly 8000 feet above sea level), I had all of 2 hours of flight left in my tanks. 2 hours, and then my 737 would be grounded forever… the prospect is actually rather daunting. Although I’m sure life in Equestria can’t be too bad, I already miss the aircraft noise from living on the flight deck.

Twilight has offered to let me stay with her, at least until we can get some other arrangements figured out. I’m meeting with Mayor Mare tomorrow to make more suitable plans, as well as to apologize for the commotion that my arrival caused yesterday. Turns out that there was no wind, so when I had anticipated the best landing direction, it had been for naught; Ponyville got a dose of full-volume, unabated aircraft noise from my twin engines and thrust reversers. Oops.

Having disassembled the first turbine (with some uncertainty as to any degree of success), and laid the parts out neatly as Twilight obsessive-compulsively mapped out every component's location, right down to the tiniest of screws, I decide it’s time to call it a day and inform the CMC of the news (“Aaaaawwwwwww, just a bit longer? PLEASE???”). They haven’t realized that this is going to be a several-day-long project, at minimum. I have a lot to do to clean up my mess...

“Spitfire?” I hesitate, knowing that my last question could very well land me in a place I don’t wanna try and get out of. “If you have such a problem with this plan, why are you helping?”

The pegasus officer hovers, thinking about the best response. “Because a certain pony, who you seem to have befriended, recently reminded me that it’s the duty of the Wonderbolts to help a pony in trouble. And even though you’re not a pony, and even though I don’t particularly care for your personality, you’re no exception to that rule.” And then, before I could so much as thank her, she flew off. And I was standing in the middle of an empty airstrip, with the sun setting behind me. For a mare who’s as abrasive as they come, Spitfire sure has some real wisdom behind that cold demeanor of hers…

It’s been 5 days since I arrived here.

5 days of supervising hyper-enthusiastic young fillies in their fruitless efforts to conjure their cutie marks by working on my jet. 5 days of Twilight absorbing every square inch of the overly simplistic schematics, a gag gift from an old friend once upon a time, that I’d packed for no reason other than being prepared for literally ANYTHING (as if I could’ve imagined I would get stranded in Equestria; my money had been on a remote part of the Mojave Desert), and being the usual bookworm that she is. 5 days of incessant “Omigosh omigosh omigosh” from Rainbow Dash, every time we had returned via balloon to the Wonderbolts HQ to continue repairing my jet; she may be a part of that outfit, but I can't help but wonder if she's fully come to terms with that yet.

And worst of all, 5 days since I’d slept on my own bed, and had a full-course meal with food from every food group. Don’t get me wrong; hay fries are edible. But they don’t replace other, more delicious foods in the long run.

Back home, I can only wonder what my flight instructor is thinking. Or what the owners of the jet that was leased to the flight school I attended was thinking. By now, the NTSB would be searching for the pair of orange boxes that recorded everything that happens mid-flight. Of course, they would never find any trace of the plane, or its “black box” recorders. For all they knew, I could’ve disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle.

On the plus side, I’ve finally managed to repair my radio; all it took was little creativity involving Spike’s fire breath and a pair of long metal rods, and I was able to solder a few bad connections together to jury rig the radio into working. As for my number one engine, however, no such luck. We’ve had to craft replacements for some of the parts from scratch, a solid 3-day delay from where I’d (admittedly unrealistically) hoped to be by now. Spitfire had not been happy to hear about the delay, but at least she’s starting to come around. I think she’s realized that the sooner this gets fixed, the sooner I’m out of their manes.

At the moment, however, I’m dealing with a rather predictably unpredictable annoyance. It seems that Discord has taken a rather… unique attachment to the fact that a human had somehow made it into Equestria. In the form of constantly teleporting in front of me at the most inopportune moments, that is. POP!

“You know, I find it quite fascinating that you haven’t figured out what’s wrong with your own plane yet,” the draconequus muses, “it’s almost as if you can’t recognize the answer is staring you straight in the nose!” Upon this declaration, the bastardly little abomination reaches out from the arm of my sunglasses, which he has wrapped himself around via simultaneous teleportation and resizing spells, and boops me right on the nose. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to stay here and irk the living apples out of Celestia…”

I pinch the tiny Discord between 2 fingers, and remove him from my face. Staring into his jaundice-yellow eyes with those solid red pupils, I deadpan my reply.

“Actually, I’d prefer not to irk the living anything out of ANYONE if I can help it.” Discord shrugs, and snaps his fingers as he disappears from my grasp. And good riddance, too; I can hear Twilight calling me over to let me know that the engine is reassembled and ready to test. Unicorn telekinesis, apparently, is more handy than any specialty tool set I could ask for.

The ponies back away as I start up the APU, and send bleed air to engine number 2. Motion occurs, and as N2 hits 30% rotation speed I open the fuel valve to spin up the rest of the machinery inside that cowl. The already high-pitched whine of the APU and bleed-air driven engine grows louder and higher pitched as the N1 turbine blade spins up, and the engine begins to self sustain. Ignition in number 2.

Adjusting the bleed valves, I begin to send air between the engines. Motion. Ignition. And now, I get to do something that I would lose my license for back on Earth: I toe up on the rudder pedals to set the brakes, and run up the engines to full power; the sound is deafening, and I can’t maintain this activity forever, so I quickly idle the engines and power down.

“Spitfire!” The golden pegasus looks my direction, confirming the source of the unmitigated aircraft noise. “Alert anyone who’s helping; the attempt to get me out of your manes is a go!” Spitfire allows herself a small (if not smug) smile, then salutes and takes off with gusto. I’m glad something’s finally moving the right way.

Tomorrow, we’ll have one shot at duplicating the conditions that sent me here. One shot to open a freak portal, that we don’t even understand how it happened or how to replicate it. This is an insane plan, but I trust it. I’ve come to trust these ponies with my life, if necessary, and it just so happens that Princess Celestia has every intention of making sure that this plan works perfectly...

Revelations

As I sit at the table in Twilight’s Library, I absentmindedly replay the tape. Again.

“Confirmed, at speed and altitude as requested. Initiate strikes on my mark; 2, 1, mark!” Cracks of thunder can be heard on the tape. “Negative, that’s a negative impa- correction. Something’s happening!”

The cue had been my activating my strobes; hardly original, but it did the job. At that point, the pegasi who had volunteered had given the storm clouds a hard buck, dissipating a bolt of lightning from each individual cloud. The first one that had initially scared me, and then the three that had occurred before the blinding light on the way in. No such light had developed this time. However, the plane had still jolted- from the sore spot on my head, it seems that in both instances where I had passed out momentarily, it had been following my crown being jolted into the forward overhead panel, not from some kind of external magic. I’m about 99% sure that I’ve suffered 2 concussions in the last week alone, now that I’ve come to that revelation.

The background is filled with a pulsating tone, perfectly bisected by the overspeed warning.

“Dammit… … can’t… breathe…” A good chunk is indistinguishable while I had applied my mask.

The master cautionary system is tripped whenever one of the several amber lights are illuminated on any number of the panels. In the case of my transportation to Equestria, and subsequently our attempt to send me back home, my cabin pressurization had gone through the floor; hence the need for Oxygen. When I had passed out, I had also inadvertently pushed the yoke forward, pitching my nose down. This had brought my airspeed up over Mach 0.81, triggering the overspeed warning. As you can imagine, at that speed an aircraft of such size wants to fight you- hard.

I stare straight ahead, the tape continuing to play out the failed attempt to reopen that damn portal. In the makeshift tower, my second radio is serving as a point of communications between my cockpit and the ponies on the ground.

“Master caution and overspeed warnings registered.” In the background, the plane starts alerting me to my imminent crash conditions. “TCAS, I have control. Levelling off, returning to base…” I pause, receiving an inquiry from the makeshift tower. “Negative, Soarin. That’s a negative attempt, and I’m on reserve fuel now. Spitfire! Clear the runway; I’m coming in hot!”

After a short pause, during which the only sound is my labored masked breathing, and the combined roar of my engines and the A/C packs, I dejectedly make one last statement:

“Sorry, ponies… we failed this one.”

The tape ends, and I press rewind again. How did I fail? How did we fail? These kind ponies were supposed to rid of me right now, but instead I was sitting at Twilight’s table. Nursing a bottle of juice from the Apple Family’s farm. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be...

The tape hits the beginning with an audible click. I press play. Again.

I’d barely finished returning my engines to idle after using full reverse to stop without overrunning the half-mile runway, when the engines had both sputtered and died, the last of the precious Jet-A being gulped into one final combustion cycle. Just like that, my ride home was dead as a doornail. The tape plays. I stare straight ahead.

Everypony had been so shocked at the failure. Princess Celestia had immediately ordered that the crowds which had gathered be dispersed, just in case I couldn’t pull off a second emergency landing in a week. Probably for the better; there’s nothing spectacular about an airliner exploding into a massive fireball and million pieces, killing all on board instantly. I wouldn’t want my subjects to witness such a horror, either.

The entirety of the Wonderbolts, and all of their reserve ponies had started trailing me, steering clear of my jetwash; if I ran out of fuel when I was too low for a landing on the airstrip, they had orders to push my plane in an attempt to keep air moving over the wings to generate lift; this was in conjunction with a small team of the best levitators from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, who would work together to reduce to the weight of my aircraft just enough to make the job easier for the pegasi, and also closer to the realm of possible.

All of these ponies who barely know me, they’re willing to put everything on the line to help me get home safely. They really put mankind to shame, seeing as such an occurrence has never happened in over 3000 years of recorded history… and I had failed them. I was still a burden, and still here on their time.

The princesses, the Wonderbolts, Twilight and her friends were all discussing what to do next. Of course we hadn’t come up with a backup plan; we were so sure that this one would work.

“You know, listening to your failure over and over won’t undo the results…” a familiarly obnoxious voice says, from behind me. Just my luck, the only other individual that doesn’t seem to either be busy or at the meeting…

“I don’t particularly care, Discord. That jet was my ride home, and it was the ticket to my future. If it’s stuck here, then that’s it. Game over. Unless, of course, you’re deciding to be helpful for once…” I glance at the ancient draconequus, hoping that for once he’s decided to go against his nature. Too much to hope for, as usual. He’s holding my copy of Fallout: Equestria that I’d packed in my pilot’s bag for the layover between my arrival at my destination airport, and my return trip to Portland.

“Honestly, I helped myself to a readthrough. Great story, really. Although, I was kinda disappointed that I didn’t show up in it. Why would that be?” he muses, inspecting the back cover thoroughly.

“Maybe because this was written at a point in time when you were still encased in stone, and it ACTUALLY happens to be a work of fiction?” I’m not in the mood for games… “What do you want, Discord?” Funny how I still cling to the idea that just because something is fiction, doesn’t mean it can’t be any degree of real; especially given my current circumstances…

POP! Discord is standing in front of me, with his snout in my face and my book in his talon. “I want you to figure it out for yourself. You’ll know the solution when you see it; what you do with that knowledge is up to you.” POP! And just like that, I was alone in the room once again, with my book in my lap.

I continue listening to the tape, making note of every last detail. If I can just figure out where we went wrong, then maybe… just, maybe…

The door creaks open, ever so slowly. Hoofsteps come closer to my seat, approaching from behind. I turn around, expecting to see Twilight, but I’m taken aback when I’m instead greeted by Princess Luna. Like her sister, she too wears shoes on each hoof, as well as a decorative yoke and a crown, although her crown and yoke are black as the midnight sky while her shoes are closer to a bluish-pewter-colored silver. Her mane also shows no sign of a pattern in the way that it waves, although it almost seems more aethereal in nature…

“Oh.” I dip my head in Luna’s direction. “Hello, Princess Luna. How can I help you this evening?” I cringe internally at how formal I sound; Luna’s expression mirrors my own emotions.

“You didn’t tell us everything about your dreams, did you?” Luna asks me, softly yet authoritatively. “Often, it can be difficult to mention that which makes the least sense…” she coaxes softly.

I can say nothing; only hang my head in shame. There is nothing I can say that Luna does not already know. But just to confirm my suspicions, I work up the courage to ask her a simple question:

“The dream realm- is that how you know?” I look up, and instead of anger I find an expression of… acceptance being returned to me. Understanding. Almost one of a parental sort of love, the sort that kind and benevolent rulers have for their subjects. This realization makes me feel… uneasy. But also somewhat relaxed.

“Dreams can sometimes be the heart’s way of revealing what it desires; I trust you can figure out if this is the case for yourself.” Luna’s expression is unreadable… “Until then, you need to consider your options. My sister and her counsel will soon be adjourning, and they will not be doing so without a choice for you to make.” Consider my options? Make a choice? What does that even- oh, wait. Bigger question.

“Luna…” The midnight-blue alicorn stops, waiting to hear my question. “... does she know?” I don’t need to explain; Luna knows exactly what I’m asking about. I’ve been here for long enough, that I can guarantee she’s visited my dreams at least once to check up on me while I’m in her domain.

“My sister is not a fool; she knows something is amiss, but I have not told her what it is. However, I would advise assuming that she knows at all times…” with this, Luna leaves the room and closes the door behind her. I am once again alone in Twilight’s library, except I am now pondering Luna’s cryptic statements rather than reliving my failed attempt to return home.

She had known all along that I’d been hiding the most crucial detail of my dreams, and this only raises more questions than it answers. But in the meantime, it IS the night; I should get some kind of sleep if nothing else…

The room full of important ponies stare at me, speechless. True to Luna’s advice, I had shared the missing detail of my recurring dreams: in such dreams, I had been a pegasus pony. Luna had so kindly helped me with the details beyond the color of my coat before I had gone into the room to spill all. And now, it would be possible to hear a pin drop; hell, even Pinkie Pie was speechless. Tough crowd, I guess.

“Well,” Celestia finally speaks up, breaking the silence. “This is most certainly unexpected.” The rest of the ponies murmur in agreement. “Why tell us this now?” I look at Luna, who simply nods.

“Because somepony told me that often it can be difficult to mention something that makes the least sense, and that dreams can be the heart’s way of revealing its deepest desires,” I admit sheepishly, adding “and while piloting planes is good and all in the human world, it’s also not real flight. You don’t feel physical strain of the same maneuvers that you’re trained to put a machine through, and you certainly don’t feel the wind on your face… or in your mane.”

I look down as I add that last part, recognizing the form that I’ve been in for all my recurring flying dreams. “I’m sure you can understand how awkward it would be to suddenly crash into a world that not an hour before you thought was fictional, and then tell the ruler of said world, ‘oh, by the way, I keep having dreams where I’m one of y’all’...” As I look up, Celestia’s face betrays a certain… understanding of my claims. Almost as if she had already put together the same pieces that I had needed most of a day and a night to figure out. Unfortunately, if there’s anything she can do about it, her lips are sealed.

“And what of your return home?” Celestia imposes. “Have you thought of your next move?” I shift uneasily in her unrelenting gaze. And I get the feeling she already knows what I’m about to say, which is unsettling to say the least.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m sure there’s some other avenue I haven’t looked into, but I’m not comfortable attempting another return to Earth until we’re absolutely certain that we have a working plan.” Celestia doesn’t respond, but she appears to be satisfied with my reasoning. Somepony else, however, does speak up.

“Well, if he wants to fly so much,” I realize with a start that it’s Rainbow Dash who’s speaking up. What is she up to? “Then I say that we let him!” I stare blankly at the cyan pegasus. Her statement makes no sense to me; but the others seem to be several steps ahead of me already.

“Hold up, sugar cube!” I recognize Applejack’s drawl, voicing a country-ism laced parallel to the thoughts going through my head. “Are you suggesting that Celestia turn him into a pony?!” Wait… what? Turn me into a…

A thousand questions race through my head, each with implications larger than life itself. If it was possible to turn a human into a pegasus, what else was possible in this world that I hadn’t considered? Why would shapeshifting me, because that’s exactly what that would be, be beneficial to the efforts to get me back where I belong? And, more importantly, how? Apparently, I had made a sound something along the lines of “huh?” as all this happened, because suddenly everypony is laughing hysterically.

“There are spells that can change the form of a living being, although they are dangerous.” Celestia begins to explain, slowing down when I give her a blank stare. “I think that Rainbow Dash, here, would like one of these spells to give you the shape of the pony from your dreams- at least temporarily.” She added, as a sudden look of alarm crosses my face.

“Of course that’s what I mean! It would be totally just AWESOME!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, even as I fall back in the chair that’s been provided for me. This is too much for me to process all at once. But either Rainbow doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care as she continues “And ALL my best ideas come when flying, or when napping on a soft cloud, or…” her voice is suddenly muffled, Applejack having stuffed a golden delicious in her mouth. All around me, the ponies are wearing apologetic expressions. All except Rainbow, who is chewing frantically while shooting a sour look at Applejack for having ruined her monologue. I look at Luna, who just shakes her head.

“I had no clue that anypony would bring that up; in fact, that wasn’t even in the original conversation.” Luna seems genuinely pissed, and she shoots a look at Celestia. I get the feeling that this wouldn’t be the first time Luna fell victim to her sister attempting to troll her. Celestia is having no part of it, though.

“I wasn’t expecting that either, Luna. Don’t act like this was some kind of prank; if it was, I’m as much a victim as you are.” The room has broken into everypony quietly discussing potential outcomes of this new possibility.

“Ahem…” I clear my throat, and the room quiets down. “I don’t think that’s a decision I can make without some serious thought; it can have some serious consequences.” Celestia eyes me appraisingly. I swallow nervously, then add “Can I have a couple days to think about it?”

This is insanity. Become a pegasus pony?! Tempting, but even for just a few days fear inhibits action in my mind. And I did at least want to experience true flight, if only to remember it as more than a dream…

I’ve wandered into the Everfree Forest, the survival kit slung over one shoulder and across my chest. There’s someone I need to seek out, at Twilight’s advice: Zecora. If there was any kind of magic that could send me home, Twilight didn’t have it anywhere in her library. Similarly, the Canterlot Royal Archives were mysteriously fruitless. That left us to seek out help from the wise zebra mare, which I can’t help but wonder why this option wasn’t earlier on the list.

Something I’ve noticed is that my compass is useless in Equestria; they don’t have the same magnetic poles as we do on Earth, if any at all. The needle was everywhere… so the compass had earned a permanent place in my pack. Twilight’s map was also useless to me, as it was written in a dialect that made no sense whatsoever.

However, even without any means of navigation, I slowly make my way to Zecora’s hut. Out of sheer luck. Too bad I can’t get any of that when I’m trying to relieve these ponies of the burden of my presence, I think to myself. Then this wouldn’t even be a problem…

Some hours later, I (finally) arrive at the humble abode in the middle of the Everfree. More than half my supplies are gone, and I blame that detour which had accidentally led me to the Castle of the Two Sisters. While I’m impressed that I managed to find such a landmark without the help of anypony, I’m also rather frustrated that there was no time to have a look around; back on Earth, exploring abandoned buildings with historical value was a favorite pastime. Oh well… if I managed to screw up getting home too badly, then there’ll be plenty of time for that.

I steel my nerves, and raise a hand to knock on the door- only to have it open before I can strike it lightly with my fist. I’m met with the wide, knowing, turquoise eyes of a seemingly unsurprised Zecora. And before I can even register the fact that I had been pre-empted by someone who was shockingly unsurprised to see a human at her door, the zebra mare addresses me.

“To my house, I welcome thee. Whatever is it that brings you to me?” I stare blankly. I’d been expecting Zecora to rhyme her every sentence; doesn't change the fact that it's surprising to hear in person, though. Zecora waits a moment for my response, then chuckles softly, motioning for me to enter.

True to trend, everything is how I imagined it. Shelves lined with potion ingredients, stored in colorful containers of hues that I hadn’t even thought possible before. Decorative masks of all shapes and sizes keep watch over every last corner of the small hut, wearing expressions that vary from that of pure joy, to one of rage that was frightening to even think about. Yet the cauldron in the center of the room seemed to be an exception; instead of bubbling with a slime green colored liquid, today it seems to be a very blue-heavy shade of purple, almost as if someone had taken the CMYK filter in Photoshop, maxed cyan and boosted magenta almost as high, and then repeatedly applied a color boost to that single object. The absurdity of my comparison is just too much; I begin to laugh. Zecora looks at me, bemused at my reaction. “Ah, something amuses you. Would it happen to be about my brew?” I wipe a few tears from my eyes, slowly working my way towards being able to breathe again. My sides hurt from laughing so hard…

“I’m sorry… just that shade of purple, and a reference that would require hours of explaining something from Earth that would only begin to explain an inside joke.” I look at Zecora, my mind returning to her unsurprised reaction to my arrival. A question forms in my mind, and I cannot avoid asking it for long. “Say, when you opened your door to find me about to knock, you didn’t seem shocked at finding a human. Why was that?” The zebra mare must’ve realized that I would have some form of that question, and not for the first time I wonder if she has her rhymes planned in advance as she replies.

“One does not miss such a loud noise,” she muses, and I realize with a wince that she’s referring to my initial landing. “But I’ve also heard Apple Bloom’s joys.” Oh, right. I’d forgotten that some of the CMC had made a regular habit of visiting here. If anything, Zecora would likely know more about me than I know about Equestria; something that’s actually not hard to accomplish, given that my knowledge of this magical land I’m trapped in is next to nil. “So once again I must ask: how can I help you with your task?”

Out of necessity, this explanation is a long one. There are parts of the story that Twilight had asked the CMC to refrain from spreading, although she had not placed the same restriction on me for some reason. And these parts were essential for Zecora to understand what Twilight, her friends and I were asking: if Zecora has a spell that we can use to return myself and my scrap-heap plane to the world we belong in, then any kind of help is appreciated. Of course, there’s also my curiosity regarding Rainbow’s fanatical idea to turn me into a pony for all of a few days, and I figure that given some of the stuff Zecora has helped the Twilight and her friends out with, then she might be the best option to address my concerns with.

As I describe the attempt at Wonderbolts HQ to reopen whatever portal had brought me here in the first place, Zecora’s eyes widen. “Twice you’ve had the same result; yet you keep trying like a stubborn colt.” I look down, unsurprised by her reaction to the parallels between my two landings. I had expected as much. But then she continues, “Yet you are right to do as compelled, for such determination will serve you well.” I blush, and continue recalling the events leading up to my visit to the zebra mare’s hut. As I address my concerns about Rainbow Dash’s plan, Zecora smiles at me… almost in a pained sort of way. “Such a transition would hurt greatly, but the reward would be stately. Rainbow’s plan is selfless, I am sure; especially to give a gift so pure.” As Zecora says this last part, her eyes twinkle with a wisdom that speaks for itself, and almost explains that which I should’ve known from the beginning.

“Wait- you mean that…” I trail off, and Zecora nods before confirming my suspicion.

“You understand the return on her gift’s fees. Rainbow Dash wishes you to see the world as she sees.” Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty. Apparently, she considers me a friend, worthy of the same respect as the five with whom she shares a deeper bond than could ever be found on Earth. I am honored.

Zecora gives me a couple books for Twilight to read through, and then sends me on my way with an admonishment to seek out Rainbow Dash. She also hands me a necklace with some kind of charm on it (“With this stone, you can venture all day. As long as you wear it, you’ll find your way,” she had explained), and bid me farewell and good luck. I returned to Ponyville, making all possible haste.

As I return to the small town, I notice the cyan pegasus of the hour napping on a cloud- right next to Twilight’s balcony. Having set the books down on the table on the way up, I step out onto the balcony with Twilight in tow.

“Hey, Rainbow Dash!” I reach out with a stick, intent on nudging her to get her attention. Without moving, not even to turn around, she responds in a tone that suggests I just fell for a prank.

“Wazzup, Steve? What were you planning on doing with that stick?” I blush, tossing the stick overboard to the ground below the balcony. Rainbow snickers. “You were going to poke me and make sure I was awake, weren’t you?” I blush, embarrassed at having been caught red-handed. She finally shifts on the cloud to face me, smirking. Not for the first time, I notice that her magenta eyes hold a fierce, yet playful expression. “It’s fine; not like you could just walk onto this cloud and wake me up, after all.” Jeez, she’s laying it on thick. I’ve noticed that she’s been sticking to some of the physical abilities that only pegasi have, almost as if she’s been trying to convince me how awesome it would be to have those same abilities… if only for a few days. I finally steel my nerves for what I’m about to say.

“Rainbow Dash…” I begin, watching her reaction carefully. “I talked with Zecora about your idea. She thinks I should go for it, and I agree.” Rainbow bolts upright, sitting on her haunches. Her face assumes the widest, cutest possible smile at the news, and out of nowhere I hear a strange sound.

“-squee!-”

I’ve just made her day, I can tell. But I’m not finished, not yet. “I’ll also need a teacher; if I have wings of my own, then flying with them won’t be the same as a fixed-wing aircraft. I’d be honored if you taught me how to fly all over again.” Rainbow’s squee expression snaps away in an instant, although I can still see the extreme levels of joy in her eyes. She salutes me.

“Count me in; I won’t let you down!” She lets out a cry of pure excitement, and takes off towards her home in the clouds to get ready, vaporizing the small cloud she had been resting on in the process.

“I know you won’t,” I mumble, barely loud enough for myself to hear. Turning to Twilight, I prepare for the worst. Instead, I get a gentle expression; she seems… sorry for me. Like she knows something I don’t. “Let’s prepare for this,” I begin, unfazed by her almost-mournful expression. “Where do we begin?”

Reformation, of a Different Sort

“I’m ready,” I tell Celestia, who has come to Ponyville to oversee this transition. Her, and about half of the nobles who had to see it for themselves, because fuck me and my dignity. “I’m ready whenever you are, that is.”

Celestia seems genuinely saddened by my decision to go forward with this. Is there something that everypony knows, but is refusing to tell me? She bows her head, her horn emanating a soft golden light, and she approaches me.

“Are you sure? I would not wish the experience you are asking for on anypony…” Celestia looks me in the eye, her fuchsia eyes glistening… with tears? She’s actually holding back tears on my behalf! I feel a pang of guilt for what I’m asking her to experience for me, but I will see this through to the end.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I nod, eliciting an expression of defeat from the regal princess. She bows her head further, and closes her eyes.

“Very well, then.” Celestia touches her horn to my chest, right over my heart. It flares brighter, as she actually casts the spell instead of holding it back while charged up. I feel a momentary flutter emanate from the organ, and then Celestia’s horn ceases glowing and she backs up. Her expression is unreadable, but if I had to guess I’d say that she’s probably ashamed of letting me go through with Rainbow’s plan.

A small, scarlet magical field pops out from the spot where Celestia’s horn had been, and I’m surrounded by a blinding field of light and swirling magic; Twilight’s story of her ascension come to mind, as I’m gently lifted off the ground. However, after the light intensifies momentarily, it disappears with a similar loud pop to whenever Discord teleports into or out of my presence, and I’m set back down on the ground.

The nobles, Twilight, and her friends start discussing the failure amongst themselves, as I open my mouth to inquire as to the lack of changes. However, when I open my mouth, all I can get off is a yelp.

“Gah!” My body explodes in pain, as my very bone structure is rearranged while I’m still conscious. I fall to the ground, writhing spastically as my own thoughts are drowned out by the pain signals emanating from everywhere all at once. I want this to stop, now. I attempt to cry out, to beg for mercy, but I cannot do more than scream wordlessly. I can barely hear what’s happening around me, and soon I no longer have any sensory input as I edge closer to blacking out, pain overcoming my body’s ability to continue functioning properly.

Then, nothing. I slip away into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

What the… what happened? I think, as I open my eyes to find that I’ve been moved to a hospital. I’m alone in the room, and I try to sit up. There’s something behind me inhibiting the motion. I attempt to reach behind me to feel what it is, but to my alarm my arms won’t go that far. Panicked, I roll over onto my side to get up that way. A loud crash ensues as something knocks over the lamp on the nightstand by my bed.

I attempt to stand up, only to find that my legs won’t hold me, and fall flat on my stomach. There’s a mirror across the room; I struggle along the floor to get to it.

Staring back at me isn’t myself, but a scarlet pegasus stallion. He has a silver mane with storm-gray highlights, and emerald eyes. I lift my hand to scratch my head, and the stallion’s front right hoof matches the motion. Curious, I lower my hand in front of my face to have a look. Except it isn’t a hand, it’s a hoof. On a scarlet foreleg. I scream. I scream bloody murder, because this isn’t my body.

“What. The HELL. HAS HAPPENED TO MY BODY?!” A team of nurse ponies rush in to check the source of the commotion, attempting to calm me down when they find me flailing around on the floor. Of course, it doesn’t help. As I continue thrashing, a pale brown unicorn walks in, her horn glowing a faint turquoise. It flares, then winks out as I suddenly lose feeling and stop moving.

Damn... that packs a punch I think to myself, as I pass out from the magical sedative.

When I awaken once more, Twilight is sitting in the chair next to my bed. The heart monitor has been disabled, and its sensor removed; the staff must’ve not wanted me damaging any more of their equipment with my panicked flailing. I look Twilight in the eye, and expression of guilt on my awkwardly long face.

“Well…” she starts, a soft expression on her face. “You’re awake. Again. Not going to start thrashing and screaming bloody murder again, are you?” I can tell she’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not helping. I cringe at her comments about my reaction; clearly she’s heard the story. “Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier when you woke up the first time; Celestia took the spell’s adverse effects on you pretty badly. Somepony needed to be there for her…” Twilight looks away as she says this last part, then returns her gaze to me. “Seeing her spell cause that kind of side effects... she didn't take it too well.”

I don’t know what to say. She hadn’t been the one to put me in that much pain; I had with my insistence that she cast the spell. For her to be beating herself up over my choices felt wrong, in every degree. Finally, I find my voice.

“I- I’d like to see her. To apologize. Is that possible?” Twilight gazes at me, with a look of sorrow.

“Yes, but not right now. Celestia had to return to Canterlot; her duties don’t wait for her to be ready to perform them.” Twilight pauses, noticing my crestfallen expression. Is it just me, or is this pony body more susceptible to emotions? I feel like I’m going to cry over this development; not a normal response for me. “However,” she continues, “there IS somepony who’s been waiting to see you.” I perk up as Rainbow Dash enters the room, and I hear that strange noise again:

“-squee!-”

Wait… did I just SQUEE?! Rainbow Dash attempts to hide a huge smile as I look around for the source of the noise, then busts out laughing as she can no longer contain it. I can’t help it; her reaction is contagious. Soon, we’re both laughing our tails off at the absurdity of the situation as Twilight leaves the room, chuckling.

“Don’t worry; you’ll get used to it,” she assures me, once we’ve had our fill of giggles. “In the meantime, can you at least stand? Fair warning, you’re gonna need all four of your legs!” I roll my eyes; she’s also heard about the first time I woke up. Just great. I manage to sit up, with my wings dragging around and knocking things over again. “Here, let me help you fold those up. Even Twilight had trouble with that when she got hers.”

Rainbow guides my wings, telling exactly which muscles to move and when. I finally fall out of the bed, and manage to balance on my hooves. This is weird, but I’ll have to deal for a few days. Rainbow looks me over appraisingly.

“Not a bad color,” she comments on my coat. “But you’ve got a lot to learn about that new body of yours.” I attempt to take a step forward, and almost fall on my face. I feel like an infant, having forgotten how to use my body to do all except crawl. This is embarrassing. “Jeez! One hoof at a time there, newbie!” Rainbow admonishes, and I cringe as I realize that I’d tried to step forward with 3 of my legs. Not a great start…

“Again,” I say, as I attempt another step with similar results. I was going to at least WALK, if it was the last thing I did. Determined, I keep trying…

A few hours later, I’m laying in the bed again. My doctor had come in, and nearly blown his lid at the fact that I was up trying to walk- with a small amount of success, although I couldn’t go more than 5 or 6 steps before collapsing onto my belly; getting the sequencing down for having four steps to a pace instead of 2 was frustrating. I’m sure I’ll find the challenge rewarding to overcome, but in the meantime it does nothing but piss me off; I never realized just how much I take walking for granted until I lost that ability to something as stupid as a couple extra legs.

It irks me to no end, not understanding my own body like this; it’s like going through puberty, all the fuck over again - complete with all the *joy* of wholly unfamiliar urges to top the whole ordeal off. At least Rainbow Dash is sticking with me through the ordeal, though, and that makes me feel a little bit better. “I got you into this mess; I guess it’s only right that I stay by your side while you deal with it,” she had reasoned.

I don’t understand why, but I have an intense craving for some flowers; the very thing that I swore I would have no part of when I had first arrived in Equestria now tortured me by making my mouth water. Someone PLEASE make this stop. The doctor trots in, levitating a clipboard alongside him.

“Good news, Steve. We’ve just got your tests back from downstairs, and you’re good to go. Although we would prefer if you let us transport you outside via wheelchair instead of tripping every 6 steps while in our hallways,” he adds, with a glare intended to remind me of how foalish I’d been. Of course, the warning doesn’t get through; I’m too busy hitting cloud nine upon finding out that I’m finally cut loose from this place - and apparently a pegasus' first response to being excited is to start flying mindlessly, because my head finds the ceiling in short order. Mother of God, make it stop.

A few minutes later, I’m standing outside the hospital. Rainbow nudges me along and says “Come on; let's go get lunch. Celestia knows the others are waiting to see you.”

I just mumble my agreement, eager to indulge my floral cravings.

Rainbow and I are joined by Twilight and the rest of her friends. Once we’d finished eating, I’d related my observations on my transformation to everypony. Sure enough, Twilight had busted out a notepad and quill from her saddle bags and started taking notes; this WAS an undocumented occurrence in Equestria, so I guess I can understand her reaction. Rarity had glared at her, clearly disapproving of the rude gesture- however, she had said nothing to address it.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your head, darling. Are you feeling alright?” The alabaster unicorn asks, tilting her head to get a better view of my flank before adding “And where is your cutie mark?! Did you never discover your special talent?” I cringe at the second question; I had been asking myself the same thing since I'd woken up and had the strange urge to look at my own ass.

“I’m fine,” I respond bitterly. “I just can’t seem to catch a break, that’s all. As for my unmarked flank, I don't know what's up with that. Could've sworn my love of flight would mean something.” Twilight sets down her notepad and quill, a curious expression on her face. She has something to say, but she doesn’t give any indication of speaking up anytime soon.

“Well I think that you look just absolutely dashing,” Rarity continues, ignoring the bitterness in my tone. “You make a fine stallion!” I literally sink to the ground at this declaration; my cheeks burn from embarrassment. Rarity looks over the edge of the table at me, then asks a single-worded question. “What?!” Words fail me.

“Rarity, I don’t think he knows you well enough to realize that you aren’t flirting with him.” Applejack admonishes. This is somehow enough to make Rarity think about what she had said, and an apologetic expression crosses her face. I sit up and shift my wings nervously. “Anyway, how are you handling the changes sugar cube?” I just shrug; at least I can still do that with relative ease.

Fluttershy is the next to comment. “You had us scared when you passed out; I’m really glad you’re okay,” her soft voice is impossible not adore. “Um, that is, if you are okay… you are, right?” I smile softly, and nod. Fluttershy seems satisfied with my response.

Pinkie Pie starts pronking around; I have a feeling that she’s either about to break into a song or pull out her party cannon, but it turns out both my predictions are incorrect.

“Ooh, well I’m glad that you’re adjusting well, Steve! If you’ll excuse me, I have preparations to make; come by the Sugarcube Corner later, and I’ll have a surprise for you!” And then, without waiting for a response, she’s off. I stare after her, wondering what the hell just happened. Looking over at the rest of the ponies left at the table, all I get is a bunch of shrugs and puzzled expressions in return.

“Pinkie Pie is Pinkie Pie; you just have to accept that weird is normal for her,” Rainbow Dash explains, and everyone else nods in agreement. “But in the meantime, we’ve still got to get you flying! Come on; let’s go!” With that, Rainbow takes off down the road. Twilight nudges me after her; all I can do is groan, stumble to my hooves, and start to slowly walk after her.

1, 4, 2, 3. 1, 4, 2, 3, I think to myself, taking the process one unsteady hoofstep at a time. Maybe I’ll be better at flying than I am at walking. And as frustrated as I am, I sure do hope that’s the case. I’ve been through enough strange crap in the last few hours that I could really do with a DECENT surprise for once…

Author's Note

The newest chapter to get redone. One of the original offenders for referencing the show, it is now implied that Twilight has relayed the story of her ascension to Steve - from her perspective, no less. I also had problems with a few readers raising hell because they thought I was making fun of a condition called Bipolar Disorder; that was clearly not the case, but the internet will be the internet... besides, in the off chance this POS story ever gets featured, I'd rather NOT have a scene that could be misconstrued to that extent out in the air.

Sorry for the delay on editing and re-releasing these; been busy job hunting. If all goes well, I'll be back into the workforce within the week, so wish me luck with my interviews! I'm going to try and release all the chapters leading up to where we'll split off the original story arc by the end of tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that!

Flight School, Version 2.0

Yeah, remember when I said that I looked forward to flying? FUCK. THAT. What nobody tells you is that before you can learn to fly, you have to learn how to hover. And hovering is exhausting; how do these ponies do it so often? Even now, as I’ve flopped onto a stray cloud that happened to be within my (extremely short) effective range to get some rest, my wing muscles hurt.

Instinctively, I turn my head towards my flank, and take one of my wings in my mouth. I have no clue how, but somehow I know what I’m doing; maybe it’s the same way that I’ve managed to land on this cloud without completely busting it. Regardless, I start to preen crooked feathers back into place on my wings; it feels amazing, almost like a massage. Rainbow Dash eyeballs me from a few hundred feet above.

“C’mon, newbie! What’s the hold up?!” Rainbow dives down to my side, coming to a hover next to my perch. “Oh, that. Sore already, huh?” I stop my grooming to give her the stank eye, before folding my wing back up against my body.

“Yeah…” I mutter, shifting on my cloud. “I don’t understand how you all do it for so long. I’ve only been at this for what, an hour? And I’m already hurting…” Rainbow Dash cocks her head to one side, staring off into space. I can’t help it; her expression is so amusing that I have to chuckle at it. “Anyway, I think this is the only time in my life that I’ve ever been anxious to get to the classroom-based portion of flight school.” Rainbow Dash seems exasperated by my whining.

“And where’s the fun in that?!” A valid question; as long as I can remember, my favorite parts of learning to fly a plane had been when I got a chance to go on an actual hop. And here I am, sitting on a MOTHERFUCKING CLOUD, wishing I was in the classroom. What in Equestria has gotten into me?! A small pony in the back of my mind laughs at the absurdity of the situation; it seems that the longer I stay here, the more I change. But is this change for better, or for worse? I flick my ears, shaking my head to rid myself of these minor annoyances.

“Taking a break, but still learning something useful?” I offer, desperately hoping that Rainbow will be okay with the idea of descending back down to the Golden Oak Library for a book session with Twilight. She looks me over for a moment, then finally responds.

“Ugh, fine.” Rainbow Dash has an expression of pure disgust, although her magenta eyes still betray a playful anticipation. She wants me to be able to fly as much as I want it for myself. I spread my wings, and hop up before busting right through the cloud that had just been my perch. Landing still doesn’t come naturally, though, and I find myself flat on my belly at Twilight’s hooves. I look up, smiling, to see Twilight sporting a confused expression. “Book work,” Rainbow lands a few feet away, and explains simply. I nod eagerly. Twilight just shakes her head, and motions for me to stand up and come on in.

Sweat beads on my brow, as I pump my wings frantically to stay airborne. I lock eyes with Rainbow Dash, pure determination keeping me up at this point. Her magenta eyes stare back at me, emotionless. We’ve been going at it like this for the last 3 hours. She perches in a cloud, I hover next to it as long as I can, and she comments on my technique and how long I lasted. So far, she hasn’t been impressed; for a full-grown stallion I certainly have no endurance; a small filly could outlast me in hovering next to this cloud. Rainbow yawns, checking the timer; I’ve beaten my best time. The look on her face says it all, though; keep going.

On the ground, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are watching in awe as I attempt to master that which any other pegasus could do; any other pegasus, that is, except Scootaloo. I can’t help but feel like I’m replacing her; but until the small orange filly’s wings grow a bit more, she’s just gonna have to be out of luck.

Rainbow Dash and I continue our staredown; I don’t know how much longer I can go. Suddenly, I don’t need an answer to that question as my wings refuse to continue moving, instead deciding to lock into position for me to glide down to the ground. I don’t even bother trying to land, opting to just flop onto my belly. I can’t even move. Leaving her cloud perch, Rainbow floats down to my side.

“Well, that was 5 minutes, 12 seconds; your personal best,” she looks at Scootaloo, before continuing “Not bad for your first day.” I grunt; it’s all I can manage as I struggle to tuck my wings away. Scootaloo seems dejected by the fact that her hero has a new student; of course, then again, none of the crusaders would recognize me as a pony. They were in school when the transformation had taken place.

“Yeah,” I grunt from the exertion as I stand up. “Not bad at all.” I look at the 3 fillies as I speak, just to see their eyes go wide. “Surprise.”

Instantly, I’m swarmed by the Crusaders, who are bombarding me with questions. Mostly “when” “why” and “how” but 2 questions in particular stand out to me.

The first comes from Apple Bloom. “Where’s your cutie mark, Steve?” That silly filly…

“I don’t have one, because apparently I never discovered my special talent,” I reply truthfully. “I guess you could say I’m starting with a clean flank!” I cringe internally at my own pun, but at least everypony else finds it funny enough to crack up at.

The second is from Scootaloo. “Does this mean you’re replacing me?” My heart sinks, as I choke back tears. This poor little filly actually thinks that I’m replacing her as Rainbow’s protege. I look Scootaloo straight in her fuchsia eyes, and I respond from the heart:

“Scoots, I’m just here for a few weeks, at the most. You’re here for your entire life. And even if something happened that causes me to be here for the rest of my life, I’ll still step aside for you. You looked up to Rainbow Dash first, so it’s only right that you are first in line…” The orange filly seems hesitant. “Just think of me as a test run; the more mistakes that Rainbow makes with me, the smoother things will go when it comes to be your time.” Scootaloo thinks for a moment, then nods. Rainbow Dash nods at me approvingly.

The sun is setting, as Rainbow Dash, the CMC, and myself make our way to Sugarcube Corner. We don’t know what Pinkie Pie has planned, only that we should probably be there. As we walk in, the room is completely black. I brace myself for-

“SURPRISE!” The lights turn on all at once, and all of Ponyville has somehow packed into this tiny little shop for a party. Naturally, I had not finished preparing for the shock; as the lights come on, my wings fire on autopilot driving me into the ceiling. Mother of God, I really need to stop hitting my head like this…

“What do you think? Do you like it, Steve? Do you? Do you? Do you?” Pinkie Pie is bouncing up and down in front of me, as I shake my head to clear the sudden dizziness that has set in from the impact.

“Uhn… need to get control over that,” I groan as I stand up from having belly flopped on the floor in the doorway to the Sugarcube Corner. I tuck my wings away once more, and survey the room. “Is all of this…” I look questioningly at the pink earth pony, who is bouncing unnaturally in front of me.

“Of course it is, silly! I always throw a welcome party for new ponies in town, and this was the first chance we’ve had since you arrived!” Pinkie has stopped bouncing, instead preferring to just stand still and beam at her handiwork. Speechless, I just wrap Pinkie Pie in a giant hug with my forelegs and my wings. This is, by far, the furthest that anyone, or rather, anypony has gone to make me feel welcome. “Steve! Can’t breathe! Please… looser…” Shocked by my own strength, I release the poor mare from my embrace.

“Sorry…” I grin sheepishly. “Nobody has ever done something like this for me before, that’s all…” Pinkie Pie nods.

“Vinyl! Let’s get this thing going; party hard, everypony!” The room erupts in applause for Pinkie Pie as Vinyl Scratch salutes from the turntable set up in the corner of the room, then drops the bass like nopony ever has before.

It’s been 3 days since I assumed pony form.

In that time, I’ve finally figured out the whole walking business, and even been able to work my way up to a slow canter. I still fall on my face, but not nearly as often, especially at a leisurely walk.

What I’m most proud of, however, is finally gaining enough control over my wings to fly. Nothing fancy, but I’m at least able to get from point a to point b now. I’m thinking about accompanying Rainbow Dash to Wonderbolts HQ to check up on my dead airliner; I’m still working towards getting back, after all. Besides, it’ll be worth it to see the look on Spitfire’s face when I turn up in current form! I still haven’t managed to gain control of my wings launching me upwards when I’m surprised, though, and my head really hurts because of it. So I guess that Spitfire will still be able to hold that over me…

I make a soft bank, the cool breeze feels amazing in my fur as I angle towards my destination: a rather soft-looking cloud that’s in just the right amount of light to read. Discord’s comments have been weighing on me- you’ll know the answer when you see it; what you do with that knowledge is up to you. Discord knows something; the only question is what? POP! Just my luck…

“You know, that little stunt you pulled by taking the shape of a pony made you really hard to find,” Discord laments. “Speaking of which, how ARE you enjoying this life? It couldn’t have been easy to learn how to use your body all over again…” The ancient draconequus stares me straight in the eyes, just to make a point.

“You…” I sputter, searching for words. A very ugly narrative has just slotted itself together, and I’m actually quite pissed off about it. “You interfered with the portal, didn’t you? You’re the one that’s been orchestrating this whole thing!” Discord’s face turns to utter surprise- more concerningly, utter GENUINE surprise.

“Oh, heavens no! Fluttershy would kill me… well, not kill me, but you get the point. Quite frankly, your story is one that I couldn’t have arranged nearly as well myself. Sometimes, the truth is stranger than fiction!~” Upon his making this declaration, I’m left feeling confused. If it wasn’t Discord, then what was keeping me here in Equestria? Discord motions towards the paperback volume I’d brought to my cloud to read. “You know, I’d get to reading that if I were you. You never know; maybe the answer lies within the pages.”

Then with a snap of his fingers and a mighty POP! Discord is gone once more. Dumbstruck, I watch the happenings of Ponyville down below with a blank expression. I prepare the cloud for a quick nap, worrying the whole while.

Something’s not right in Equestria; else, I would’ve already been back home. No, something is interfering with the process. I’m only left with one question, though.

What is it?

I can see the portal ahead of me; I flap my wings harder to get to it. I fly, and I fly, but I never get any closer. My ears prick, and I can hear the roaring intakes of my 737’s engines. I look behind me, and to my horror my plane is bearing down on my position, piloted by absolutely nobody.

Panicked, I start to bank away from the plane’s flight path, while rolling to keep my balance and sense of direction true. Or, at least I ATTEMPT to; as I start the first motions of my evasive maneuvers, my left hindleg is snagged by a stray vine. Before I have a chance to question the validity of this deus-ex machina restraint, three more bind to my other legs, followed by 2 more that bind my wings. I’m trapped. Trapped, and staring certain doom by my own plane in the nose. I cry out:

“Somepony! Please help me!”

… … …

The vines melt away, and the plane disappears into thin air; I see a dark, winged pony flying their way to my side.

“Princess Luna!” I cry out, recognizing the princess of the night for having saved me. The princess comes to a hover at my side, putting a foreleg around my neck to alert me that everything is alright. “I don’t understand… what does it mean?”

Luna looks at me sadly, her sapphire eyes comforting to gaze into. “That was a warning,” she begins. “I can explain more tomorrow; come to Canterlot. Fly as fast as the wind will carry you, and bring Twilight with you. Until then, I must leave you… you’re safe, Steve. Sleep now…”

Then, with a slight shift of the breeze, I drift off into more peaceful dreams…

I awaken with a start; Celestia is raising the sun. Remember Luna’s words from the night before, I race to the Golden Oak Library.

“Twilight!” I pound my hoof on the door. “Twilight! It’s urgent!” The swings open, and I’m greeted by a very groggy Spike.

“Oh, hey Steve.” Spike yawns. “What can I do for you this morning?” Urgently, I relay Luna’s message to Spike. The baby dragon perks up immediately. “Woah, that’s important! I’ll get Twilight down here!”

A few moments later, with the library nearly completely torn apart, Twilight and I are in the air, making all haste to Canterlot. Whatever Luna is going to tell us, something tells me that the timeline for my return home has just been drastically altered…

Author's Note

Wow, one of the few good ones. Just had to adjust Steve's speech in a few places...

Flameout Protocol

We’re about a halfway to Canterlot when I signal to Twilight to land on a cloud. I may be able to fly, but I still have next to no endurance; that comes with practice, which I’ve had relatively little of outside of Rainbow’s gruelling lessons. At first she seems irritated, then she notices my rapid panting and sagging form; it’s pretty clear that I’m not gonna be able to go very far without a break. We bank towards our target perch and land in formation, her being the lead pony and myself the wing.

“Sorry…” I gasp in between deep breaths. “Still… not much… endurance…” I flop onto my belly, the cloud making a soft spot to lay on. Twilight smiles gently, and then settles down across from me.

“Don’t worry about it; I have to remember that you’re not used to the strain of flying. You’ll get used to it, though.” I give her an appreciative glance, and take a few moments to slow my breathing.

“So… I noticed the look on your face a few days ago; what was that all about?” I start slowly, not wanting to lose this opportunity to get an insight to Twilight’s thought process. “You looked like you had something you wanted to say…” Twilight seems irritated for a moment, then, with an expression of defeat, looks kindly into my eyes. Her amethyst eyes feel like they’re boring into my soul as she begins to speak.

“Oh… that. I was wondering when you were going to ask about it. I…” she trails off, almost as if she’s ashamed of something. “I helped myself to reading that book that was in your bag.” And just like that, Twilight seems to have a huge weight taken off her chest. I can only laugh heartily; it seems that EVERYPONY is drawn to my copy of Fallout: Equestria for some reason. Twilight looks at me strangely as my fit of laughter subsides. “I’m sorry… I just couldn’t help myself. Although I expected you to be a bit more… mad, I guess? What’s so funny?”

I gaze at Twilight, wishing desperately that I could deadpan the answer… but after laughing so hard, and with the strain that all of my recent flying has put on my inexperienced body, it’s all that I can do to barely get it out in the first place.

“You’re fine,” I begin, still giggling from my laughing fit. The emotional high that I’m on feels like I’m… well, high. Blast this pony body, and its more extreme emotions. “It’s just that you’re not the first to help yourself to a reading of it.” She looks at me, confused. “Discord…” I trail off, but the look on her face tells me that I don’t need to explain further. “Anyway, what about it? Is there something you want to ask me, Twilight?” She looks down, poking the cloud sullenly with a lavender hoof.

“When you were addressing your lack of cutie mark, it reminded me of the Crusaders,” she begins explaining, a depressed expression decorating her face, “I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s possible.” Her amethyst eyes bore into me. “If ponies going to war is possible. If us screwing everything we’ve worked to achieve in the last millennium is possible. And if so, who will clean up after us? Will they be able to forgive us?” On this last question, Twilight breaks into an uncontrollable sobbing; all I can do is hug her, and give her a mane to cry in. She’s been my friend through all the shit that Equestria has put me through, so it’s the least I can do to be there for her in her darkest moment- that’s what friends are for, after all.

“Oh, Twilight…” I begin, unsure of where I’m headed with this. “Everything’s going to be fine. That story… it’s what we refer to as an alternate universe. As long as the ponies of Equestria remain true to the kind, caring nature that you all have shown me since I’ve arrived here, that story can never come to be. And that's voiding out the fact that it was already voided out when you ascended...”

Suddenly, Discord’s words echo in my mind: You’ll know the answer when you see it; what you do with that knowledge is up to you. I begin to have a sneaking suspicion that he’s already figured it out, and is working the board to force me to realize it, too. He hasn’t been orchestrating my misfortunes; he’s been orchestrating the resistance. He had been pointing to Fallout: Equestria, and he’d dropped another hint that should’ve registered sooner: You know, I’d get to reading that if I were you. You never know; the answer could be in the pages!

“Hnnnngggg…” I groan as Twilight finally finds her composure once again. She looks at me quizzically. “I should’ve figured it out sooner! The book… it’s the answer. It has the key.” Twilight’s amethyst eyes light up with understanding, as she comes to the same realization as I have.

“THE GEMS!” we cry out in unison. Nothing more needs to be said; once we’re back from Canterlot, we’ll have a lot of research to do. It’s a slim chance, but one we have to take regardless- we might be able to use Equestria’s abundantly occurring gems, and a fair amount of magic, to get my jet off the ground. It’s not a complete plan, but it’s the foundation for one.

Excitement sending new energy to my wings, I take off with a joyous shout. Twilight follows close behind, and we continue winging our way to Canterlot with renewed vigor.

“Wait… what?!” I’ve directed this question to Luna, dumbfounded.

“When you arrived here, you triggered a long-lost magic that hasn’t been seen since before we came to power,” Luna explains. “Your very presence has had rippling effects across both this world and your own; your choices have the potential to change the destinies of yourself and everypony else.” I stare blankly, and cease hovering a few feet off the ground. I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing that, either, which surprises me. I’ve gone from being unable to so much as maintain lift, to subconsciously hovering in place… and apparently I still have Equestria’s worst poker face, because Celestia begins laughing. Everyone in the room just stares her direction, unsure what to think of this development.

“Luna, he doesn’t know as much of Equestria’s history as the rest of us. He may have come to a level of connection with his current body that would suggest he’s been a pony most of his natural life, but he still needs us to tell him that story.” Celestia has a point; all I know of Equestria’s history has turned out to be 94 percent horse apples. And any story that helps me understand what Luna is telling me is a welcome story. Luna acquiesces, and I settle down to hear their tale.

It takes a great deal of time, and when they are finished I feel like I know less than I did when I found myself in Equestria. Luna picks up where she had left off.

“Right now, your destiny hangs in limbo. This is not supposed to be; hence your nightmare. Make one decision, and the very reality of your world is altered irreversibly. Make the other decision, and the same is true of THIS world. Furthermore, along the way every decision you make will have similar consequences on a smaller scale…” Luna’s expression softens. “We implore you to keep this in mind, and think carefully whenever you must make a choice.”

The room seems to have gotten infinitely stuffier from the gravity of what Luna is saying. Make a decision? What is she talking about? Almost as if on cue, Celestia picks up the line once more.

“I wasn’t going to offer you this decision, but in light of the situation I feel I have no choice.” I stare at Celestia, dumbfounded. “When the time comes, you will have two options: go through the portal, never to return, and likely forgetting everything you’ve seen, experienced, and done here. I don't know whether this will also alter the memories of everypony in Equestria, but if it does it will be like you never visited.”

Celestia pauses to take a breath, then continues. “Or, you can choose to assume your current form for the rest of your natural life, and remain here in Equestria. I don't know what it will do to your world, but if our theories are correct, the same possibility exists as what might happen to Equestria when you make the other choice. I know it won’t be an easy decision, but you have until the actual transportation to decide.” This is a lot to take in. Fortunately, Luna has my back.

“Now go; I’ve arranged for a sky chariot to return the both of you to Ponyville; you were both horribly exhausted when you arrived, and as I seem to understand it, Steve, you have a flight lesson with Rainbow Dash. We wouldn’t want you unable to take part in that now, would we?” Luna gives me a knowing look as we leave.

“Faster!”

Rainbow Dash is driving me pretty hard this time. From the moment that the chariot had touched down, it’s been hardcore acrobatic training. Flips, loops, rolls… what next? A rainboom?! All sarcasm aside, I don’t actually have that kind of speed, do I? Regardless, I attempt to comply. Altering the angle of my wings, I enter a steep dive, flaring my wings and pulling up at the last second to execute an aileron roll as I climb once more (and yes, I'm still using the earth's terminology for the most part). Suddenly, I have an idea.

I corkscrew through the air, then start a rapid clockwise aileron roll as I perform the flight path of a flipping loop. My brain hurts from processing the rapidly changing vectors that constitute the changes of direction I have to take, but it’ll be worth it; on the way back from Canterlot, Twilight had shared an excerpt from a book with me- how the Wonderbolts create their thundering cloudtrail. Turns out it’s actually pretty easy, at least on paper. I’m about to find out if it’s equally easy in application. I stop spinning and ignite the cloudtrail as I enter one last loop, this one larger than the rest. I can only imagine the look on Rainbow Dash’s face as I do this, though, because I'm unable to look for myself as I enter the dive that she had prescribed.

I plunge towards the lush green field where I had landed when I first arrived in Equestria, recognizing the very same sights and emotions I had experienced in my dreams as I do so. Attempting to fulfill Dash's instructions, I force my wings to assume the slim-delta shape that had made supersonic flight possible for the Concorde on Earth, and I begin to accelerate rapidly. As I near the point two thirds of the way down from the peak altitude of my flight path, I prepare to flare my wings for one last loop, on which I will rotate while orbiting back towards the library. Fate, however, has other plans. There’s a loud crack of thunder, and I suddenly accelerate further. I flare my wings in response, pulling up and looking over my shoulder to see what had been the source of the sound.

The cloudtrail ends abruptly, and a one-half scarlet, one-half silver halo arcs away from that location. No, not halo, I realize too late, shockwave. The concussive blast hits me, sending me into an uncontrolled tumble. My tail is smoldering and I’m being trailed by a pair of flame trails that make me think of the Delorean from Back to the Future. Unable to recover from my off-course tumble, not for a lack of trying, I notice that I’m headed for the water reservoir. All I have time to do is mutter “oh shit” and suck in one last breath of air.

I make impact with the water, and the sweet darkness of unconsciousness washes over me instantly…

Mending

I’m hovering in a field, out near a long paved strip. There’s a crowd gathered, and a man’s voice comes up over the loudspeakers:

“And now, ladies and gentleman, direct your attention to the Southeast for the US Navy’s BLUE ANGELS!” The crowd erupts into cheers as the thundering of fighter jet engines grows louder. In the direction indicated by the man on the PA, a glint of blue with gold trim flashes on the horizon; in the blink of an eye, the 6-wing formation becomes perfectly visible. The highly-trained pilots wobble their wings, all except the formation leader getting ready to break the formation and begin their routine. Five of the half-dozen F/A-18 Hornets split off while triggering a switch on their control panels to force their aircraft to emit smoke-oil trails, resulting in a flower-like shape in the sky; the Fleur-de-lis maneuver. The lead wing, with the number 1 emblazoned on the tail of his aircraft, buzzes the crowd before pulling up and igniting his afterburners over the airstrip- “scorching the pavement” for sheer effect.

It takes me a moment to realize what I’m watching, and when and where I am; this is the Hillsboro Air Show, summer of 2029. I’m reliving a memory, from outside my body of the time. I begin to panic- am I dead? Comatose? What happened? How…

I feel a foreleg over my shoulder, and look over to see Princess Luna hovering to my right. From my left, I can hear a soft voice.

“This is what inspired you to become a pilot?” I look over, and I see Celestia tracking the jets’ every movement in awe. “Your story does this spectacle no justice,” she comments, without looking away. I can’t help but chuckle under my breath; Celestia seems to be as excited as a little filly. “No need to worry, Steve. You’re being taken care of at the hospital in Ponyville as we speak…” I look back to Luna, an expression of alarm on my face.

“You had an accident,” Luna begins, her voice gentle. “You crashed into the Ponyville Reservoir during your lesson with Rainbow Dash. Your friends will have a more detailed explanation than I’m comfortable giving you in this situation, but you’ve been out for a day or so now… we decided it was time to check in on you.” She looks up at the jets, an admiring twinkle in her eye. “At least you’ve been seeing a happy memory. But right now, it’s time for you to return to the realm of the living, Steve. Your friends are worried for your well being…”

Celestia and Luna disappear, and the memory fades away.

Pain. Unimaginable pain emanates from nearly everywhere at once. I groan, and roll onto my side, opening my eyes to find the room is full of ponies; Twilight and the gang, Spitfire and 2 of the Wonderbolts, the princesses, and a trio nurses who seem to be tending to some injury of mine or another. All of these ponies, here for me… but why?

“Wha- what happened?” My words are slurred; I must be on some kind of anesthetic spell to dull the pain. “I remember some kind of explosion, then losing control…” I trail off. Spitfire picks up for me, though.

“You pulled off a sonic rainboom, Steve. Lucky for you Soarin, Fleetfoot and I were close enough by to notice you tumbling out of the sky. We pulled you out of the reservoir…” she looks at me, undoubtedly evaluating my performance. I’m just going to ignore the fact that she had said the words ‘you pulled off’ and ‘sonic rainboom’ in the same sentence; I refuse to believe that’s possible. “That cloudtrail, though. Where did you learn that? We don’t teach it to just anypony, you know.” I look at the floor, and then back at Spitfire. However, before I can say anything, Twilight is whispering in Spitfire’s ear. Twilight pulls back, and Spitfire looks back and forth between Twilight and myself repeatedly. “Huh… didn’t see that one coming.” And then, not another word from the overbearing golden pegasus. Soarin dips his head to me; I do the same in return.

“So… how long was I out?” My question seems to catch the ponies off guard, and this time it’s Fluttershy that picks up the slack.

“You’ve been unconscious for a day and a half now; we were worried that you wouldn’t make it.” The other ponies nod, and express agreement. A day and a half? It feels like it happened only 5 minutes ago. Fluttershy isn’t done yet, though. “I liked the way your rainboom looks; the colors would make a really pretty flower blossom.” I just stare at her. Fluttershy says I performed a sonic rainboom, too? That’s just not possible. Not in the slightest. I open my mouth to ask why everypony keeps insinuating that I’ve done something that’s not in my skillset, but before I can get a word off, the same doctor that had treated me last time I was in the hospital walks in.

“Oh, would you look at that? Our favorite human-gone-pony is here. Again. Of course, given his mentor, I’m not terribly surprised…” He glares at Rainbow Dash, who has a bashful expression for the first time that I can remember. I notice that his horn has 2 layers of overglow, rather than just one for the clipboard; looking up, I can see what the other layer is holding. There’s a stack of pillows against the ceiling, directly above my head. He’s learned from last time, and all I can do is smile sheepishly. “Unlike her, though, you seem to have some basic understanding of the forces involved in crashing, because the only reason you didn’t shatter every bone in your wings is that you at least thought to tuck them away. Likewise for crossing your hind legs and bracing your neck with your forelegs; that’s not a technique we see very often, but it seems to have saved you from worse than a few hairline fractures here and there, as well as some minor internal injuries. Regardless, just a few spells should finish fixing you right up-”

Before he can finish, my wings fire on autopilot and I’m sent careening into the line of pillows before falling back to the bed with yet another thud. Celestia stifles a giggle at my recurring nightmare, which I desperately wish would just stop happening. Annoyed at the interruption, the doctor continues, “- to being almost brand new. The ones we have left to perform we’ve been waiting on for you to be awake; they’re too risky to perform on a patient who is unconcious.”

“When am I looking at being discharged?” I ask the doc, not expecting an answer. However, he’s already figured out the timeline.

“We’ll want to keep you overnight for observation, and then you’ll be free to go in the morning after breakfast. And please, for the love of Celestia, don’t find yourself here for the third time in 2 weeks; that’d be more than even your mentor has managed, and we’d tie your wings down until you’d completely healed,” I don’t know if he’s joking about that last part, but I don’t care to find out. Furthermore, Celestia seems surprised that she’s also a phrase, which only makes the situation that much more awkward. I quickly thank him and he’s out the door. One of the nurses takes over levitating the pillows. Glancing over at Rainbow Dash and Spitfire, I can see that the latter is nudging Rainbow and giving her a bad time.

“3 times in as many weeks? That’s an academy record!” Spitfire teases, referring to Rainbow’s string of records at the Wonderbolts Academy. THAT part of the history I had known was at least accurate… Rainbow Dash just groans, and turns a shade of red that makes her fur appear to be close to Twilight’s lavender without closer inspection.

“Well, I guess you lot don’t call me ‘Rainbow Crash’ for nothing… there wasn’t much that was off limits back when I was trying to impress you.” Rainbow Dash turns my way, and addresses me. “Hey, Steve… try to roll back on the habit of getting laid up, okay? That’s kinda MY gig…” I can’t help it. I begin to chuckle, which evolves into snickering, finally growing into full-blown laughter.

“They actually call you that? What, is that your callsign, or something?” Everyone in the room gives me a blank stare, which only leaves me laughing harder. My ribs are starting to hurt. “Aviators… aviators never change.” I quickly explain to them that on earth, a military pilot gets his call sign based on the most embarrassing thing to happen to them during training. “It seems that the line between our worlds’ elite fliers blurs more every day!” I guess I’ve said enough, because soon the entire room is laughing.

Eventually, the only ponies left in the room aside from myself are Princess Celestia and Rainbow Dash. The Wonderbolts had a patrol to return to, and had bid me farewell before thundering off from outside the front of the building, taking off in the loudest, flashiest way possible. I guess they don’t do subtle- not as a unit, anyway. Twilight had left to crack the books, promising to drop off my pilot’s bag before visiting hours end. I want the booklet that has my charts; there’s a set of photos in there that I want to pull out. Rainbow Dash has shown me her world of flight, and before I leave I want to do the same; but there are preparations that will have to be made first. I don’t know where the others went, nor why; only that they had to leave, and I respected that. Luna had preparations to make for the night, and had returned to Canterlot.

“Princess Celestia?” She turns to me, a questioning look in her eye. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to cause you any grief when I went along with this plan.” Celestia lifts a gold-clad hoof, and puts it on my shoulder.

“Has the experience been worth it?” she asks gently. I nod, words failing me. “Then there’s no need to apologize, my little pony.” Celestia pauses, realizing the epithet she’d just used to describe me. She opens her mouth to apologize, but I cut her off.

“Don’t- it’s fine.” In all honesty, the epithet had felt meaningful… and, for some reason, fitting. I liked it. Celestia relaxes visibly. “And thank you- for everything.” The princess dips her head, non verbally accepting my thanks. The doctor walks in, ready to cast the last few healing spells to repair the injuries I had sustained. As he passes Celestia, who is on her way out to return to Canterlot, she bends over to whisper something in his ear. He doesn’t seem to appreciate whatever she’s asked of him, but he agrees and bows. Her work done, she leaves the room.

“Rainbow Dash,” the doc addresses my companion. “You can return to the room after I’ve finished my work here. I’ve also been asked to waive the ending of visiting hours; if you so wish, you may stay with Steve tonight.” Rainbow and I react simultaneously.

“-Squee!-”

“Well, then. I guess I know the answer to that one…” the doc grumbles as Rainbow leaves the room in a flash. Looking me in the eyes, my doctor deadpans a warning. “I’m not going to lie; this is going to hurt. Just try not to kick me in the process, okay?” Then, his horn flares as he casts the first spell. The agony begins once more…

I poke at my breakfast, trying to comprehend Rainbow Dash’s accounting of my crash. Apparently, I had, indeed, performed a sonic rainboom. As she had explained it, the colors that emanate from the location of the sonic boom are unique to an individual pegasus, thus why mine looks the way it does while hers is a true rainbow. I’m still hung up on the fact that I’d even reached that speed in the first place; for a pegasus with my lack of flying ability, it shouldn’t have been possible… but Rainbow Dash seems so proud of me, that I can’t bring myself to burst her bubble and tell her that it was a complete accident.

Regardless, I can’t wait to be cleared to get the fuck out of this hospital. I’ve figured out exactly how I want to repay Rainbow for the gift that she’s given me by opening my eyes to true flight, and that means that I need to make arrangements. In the meantime, my companion can’t get enough of reliving her view of my improvised acrobatics from the other day, and I’m not going to stop her. She’s happy, and it makes me feel… content. For the first time in many, many years, I feel content.

It isn’t long before we get the good news that I’m free to go, and I bid Rainbow Dash farewell… until later, at least. In the meantime, I’m going to need some help…

Arrangements

The first of many stops on my list is the Carousel Boutique; I’m gonna need the help of a fashion designer to pull off my plan. I’m just hoping that Rarity is into the idea of making a flight suit instead of a dress for a change, although I’m willing to give her a little artistic liberty in the process. As long as it’s functional, I could care less what it looks like. I open the door, and in all of ten seconds I’ve been mobbed by the alabaster unicorn.

“Oh, so glad to see you Steve! I’ve got JUST the surprise for you!” Rarity is dragging me by the mane to her back room, where undoubtedly she’s designed some kind of outfit for me. I doubt I could break free if I tried, so I just play along. However, when we reach the back room, what’s waiting for me is not a tuxedo; I’m met by Spitfire, who is standing next to a pair of leather jackets that match Rainbow Dash’s Wonderbolts jacket. One is sized for my human body, while the other is sized for me as a pony. I can’t do more than gawk.

“Is… is that…” I can’t even finish my question, and then I notice the patch on the breast pocket of one of the jackets; a mockup of my airliner, with flame trails emanating from the engines, and climbing at an angle of about 25 degrees. “I thought only full members of the Wonderbolts get those…” Spitfire chuckles.

“Normally, yes. But if you’re gonna fly with us, you might as well look the part.” Apparently, the blank look on my face is amusing, though, because Spitfire and Rarity nearly fall to the floor laughing. “We got orders a few hours ago; report to the Crystal Empire and help Princess Cadance out with some unspecified problem. Princess Celestia asked us to bring you along… we’re flying in these jackets, and we decided that you’ve been through enough with us that you deserve a leather of your own; besides, the outskirts of the Crystal Empire are really cold- you’re gonna want one. So, that being said, try it on!” Honored by the gift, I oblige. The jacket fits, naturally. Must be Rarity’s handiwork. But how…? Rarity must sense the question on my mind, because she pipes up sheepishly.

“I… um, well, I measured you when you were unconscious. Both times… that’s how I got the sizing for the one that fits your human body.” She smiles weakly, but as much as I want to be pissed, the emotion escapes me. This is a truly generous gift, on both ponies’ parts.

“Thank you- both of you. This… this means a lot to me.” Spitfire nods and leaves, dropping a scroll with pertinent information at my hooves. I turn to Rarity; I’ve been delayed long enough. “I was hoping I could get your help with something, but first I was wondering if you still had everypony’s measurements from the Grand Galloping Gala…” Rarity seems confused why I would be asking such a thing.

“Why, of course I would still have those measurements. They’re stored with the designs of the dresses that I made at the time; why do you ask?” I quickly and quietly explain my plans, and show her the photos that have been tucked away in the back pages of my chart book; the 2029 Blue Angels pilots, in their flight gear, posing in front of their aircraft. Clippings from a long-lost program, although I had kept the only real important parts. Her eyes grow wider by the minute, as she begins to comprehend the full implications of what I’m asking. “You want me,” she begins, an expression of pure joy spreading across her face. “To design flight gear… for the princesses?” She looks like she’s about to explode with joy.

“If they wish to board the flight as well, yes.” I confirm. "At minimum, though, I need one for Rainbow Dash, and one for you and each of your friends if you all so wish to board the test flight." Rarity can’t contain it any longer.

“-squee!-”

“Good. I’ll have Spike send a letter to Celestia asking her if she and Princess Luna wish to board the flight. If they accept, they'll be expecting you for measurements and such,” I continue, smiling. “I’ll also ask Princess Cadence the same, and if she accepts I'll have her arrange a train to the Crystal Empire, so you can take her measurements as well.” As I relay this information, Rarity seems to be struggling with something, almost as if some part of the math isn’t adding up.

“What about your suit? Who will assemble it?” Rarity seems pained that she has to ask this. Smiling gently, I unfurl one wing and bring it around so the wingtip is in front of my chest, bowing slightly in the process. Rarity’s eyes widen. “You?! Oh, but I MUST insist-”

“It’s a matter of pride, Rarity.” I’m smiling as soft as I can, having tucked my wing away once more. “You may have measured for a jacket, and I’m sure you did a good job with it, but this suit will be a little different than the others. It’ll have a different range of motion, and I’ve never had a costume I didn’t stitch myself… you understand, right?” Rarity just gawks at me.

“Never had a… absolutely not! I will not stand for this- your suit will be the first costume you ever accept from somepony else, and that’s final!” Rarity seems indignant as she proclaims this timeline to be factual, and I realize there’s no swaying her. A phrase about biting off more than you can chew comes to mind, but then again… this is Rarity we’re talking about. She can handle herself, although I could’ve sworn Applejack was the stubborn one. All I can do is shrug it off, and dip my head.

“Thank you, Rarity.” I turn to leave, then remember the most important detail. “Oh, and one more thing…” Rarity gives me a suspicious look, but signals me to continue with one of her forelegs. “Don’t tell Rainbow Dash what you’re working on. If she asks, feel free to tell her that she’ll know soon enough, and that someone else will key her in, but this is all part of a bigger gift for her. Something that requires massive modifications to the airplane, especially the cockpit…” Rarity’s sapphire eyes widen as she realizes what my plan is. With a look of determination, she nods and sets back to work, undoubtedly sketching what will be the patterns for her friends’ flight gear.

No, OUR friends I realize with a twinge of guilt. These ponies have been so kind and welcoming, I’d be an idiot not to consider them my friends. The revelation shakes me; it’s been so long since I knew anyone I remotely considered to be my friend that I’ve forgotten what it feels like… and when the time comes, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to give that up. Leaving Rarity to her work, I trot out the door of the Carousel Boutique.

Sweet Apple Acres comes into sight soon enough, and I bank softly to my left. I may be able to land vertically, but it’s still a good idea to keep practicing the approach patterns I have to use when flying my airliner; I’m not going to be here forever. Or, I don’t think I will, anyway. Regardless, there’s a small clearing between two sets of trees; it makes a great runway, so I’m aiming to touch down about a quarter of the way down that path.

When I get about a quarter mile away from the end of the long, straight clearing, I start a wide bank to my right, turning a whole 180 degrees to line up with my makeshift “runway.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of cyan fur; turning my head, I’m able to spot the rainbow-colored mane to confirm that it’s Rainbow Dash. She’s hovering a few hundred feet away, observing my abnormal landing pattern with an unreadable expression on her face. Saying nothing, I lock my wings to glide the remainder of my flight, relying on pitch and roll adjustments to control my speed and altitude. Rainbow Dash must’ve figured out what I’m doing, because she moves for the end of my “runway” to meet me once I’ve finished landing.

When I’m about 20 feet off the ground, I flare my chest to simulate the flourish I’d perform when putting my rear landing gear on the runway, and flap my wings rapidly to kill the vertical speed that I’ve picked up during my improper landing before setting my hooves on the ground and coming to a running stop. I feel slightly embarrassed about it, since I hadn’t planned on Rainbow Dash catching up with me. Hell, this is going to put a real hitch in my plans to ask Applejack if I could borrow her carpentry skills. Regardless, I trot the rest of the way to Rainbow Dash.

“Hey Rainbow Dash. Sorry you had to see that…” I trail off, shuffling my wings in embarrassment. “I just figured it’s probably a good idea to keep my other flying skills fresh in my mind.” I look back to Rainbow Dash, who is wearing an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face.

“Why are you sorry for that? If you’re not going to be here forever, then it’s smart to stay ready for your return,” she consoles me. “Not doing so would be like if I’d have stopped practicing, despite all my failed attempts to join the Wonderbolts.” Then, she looks down at my chest, which is still adorned by the jacket which Spitfire and Rarity had bestowed upon me, and her expression turns to one of shock. “Wha-... wha-... what are you doing in that?” Now it’s my turn to be consoling, as she looks at me accusingly, and I shift my weight further out of discomfort. Fortunately, I can hear the thundering approach of Spitfire’s cloud trail, so I won’t have to explain this alone.

“Spitfire went to your house to relay some orders, but seeing your surprise I’m guessing she didn’t find you there…” I look at her nervously, hoping that she has the patience for this situation. The thunder peaks, and then stops overhead; not a second later, Rainbow Dash’s commanding officer is standing to my left. “Um… Spitfire? Care to help me relay the news?” I ask nervously. Spitfire seems amused by the situation; too bad she doesn’t get to enjoy it, though. She passes a scroll to Rainbow Dash.

“We got orders, and we’ve been asked to bring him along. Figured he should look the part; that’s part of what we discussed at that meeting you had to miss.” Rainbow Dash turns a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “Burnout, here, is going to be your wingpony, since this will be his first time flying with us. I trust that you are familiar enough with his abilities to make sure that we can keep flying as a group.” With that, Rainbow Dash salutes Spitfire, and the golden pegasus takes off after giving me a bump on the shoulder. I just shake my head.

“Burnout, eh? The Wonderbolts really don’t do accident forgiveness, do they?” I cringe at my own joke, realizing that Rainbow Dash won’t recognize anything pertaining to car insurance. Sure enough, she’s giving me a pricelessly confused look, prompting a hearty chuckle. “I’ll explain another time. For now, I think you have some packing and preparations to make, yes? I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point; at the moment I have a couple more errands to run.” Rainbow Dash nods, then prods me on the shoulder.

“Just try to be ready to be pushed to your limits, okay? This is one group that does not like to stop.” I understand what she’s getting at, and I nod to convey my understanding. “Good. See you later, then!” With that, Rainbow Dash takes off into the sky, rolling for a few rotations while she adjusts her course for her home in the clouds.

I start trotting the near quarter mile that I’d landed away from the barn, contemplating the exchange that I’d just witnessed. Why would Spitfire decide to give me something like this jacket, if she was aware of how badly tilted Rainbow Dash would likely become if she didn’t have the explanation? She could’ve easily just made the presentation of the jacket when we were about to leave for the Crystal Empire, after just giving my my copy of the orders at Rarity’s; gambling that I wouldn’t run into Rainbow Dash before she could give the cyan mare the news was a huge risk, which clearly hadn’t paid off. Instead, Rainbow Dash had gone through a moment, albeit a rather brief one at that, where she had seen somepony else practically have that which she had to fight nearly her entire life for handed to them. And I know what that feels like; I’ve been on her end of it repeatedly for most of my life. It’s not something I’d wish on the worst of my enemies, let alone the best of my friends.

And yet, despite this tilt-inducing action that Spitfire had taken, once the golden pegasus had presented a reason and a set of orders, that had been the end of it. Rainbow Dash clearly looks up to her commanding officer, but it’s concerning how far Spitfire seems to be willing to go to exploit that. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I’m left questioning how I could’ve better handled the situation as I trot along absentmindedly.

POP! Oh, for the love of God…

“Interesting. Very interesting; it seems you FINALLY took my advice. Took you long enough to get around to reading that book of yours, but in the end nothing else matters!” Discord ends his statement in a singsongy tone, attempting to emulate the melody to the Metallica song by the same title in rather tone-deaf fashion. “Tell me, though. How do you plan to implement those neat little gems? I imagine that it’d be difficult to create enough liquid out of them to power that monstrosity you arrived in, wouldn’t it?” I come to full stop, turning to face him. Discord might have been trying to nudge me in the right direction, but sweet Luna is he annoying. Hovering up to his eye level, it’s my turn to ask him a pointed question.

“I’m sure that Twilight and I can figure something out. But you, on the other hoof, have some explaining to do. What do you stand to gain from helping me like this? Quite frankly, it’s headache inducing with all your spontaneous teleportations and whatnot.” Pausing to take a breath, I notice that Discord’s expression has gone from that of glee to what appears to be a lack of amusement. Without thinking, I capitalize on the opportunity. “What’s the matter? Not so much fun you have to explain your jokes, is it?” I’m playing with fire by tempting the Lord of Chaos so, but it feels so satisfying after the last few weeks of his pushing my buttons in all the wrong ways. Either I'm ridiculously lucky or Discord has an ulterior motive, though, because he opts for talk instead of retaliation.

“It really doesn’t matter what I stand to gain from you returning to your world; I am Discord. I do as I please. I won’t be forced to explain my methods to anypony, let alone YOU.” With a deafening report, he teleports behind me and wraps himself around my neck a couple of times, before continuing on. “And on the contrary, it’s actually more fun when it needs explaining. Why, you might ask? Because it should be painfully obvious what the purpose of my entertainment is; I am Chaos incarnate. Making sense isn’t in my nature, human. You’d do well to watch your tone in the future; I would just HATE for an accident to occur before you could find your way home.” On that note, I’m gifted yet another deafening report as Discord teleports away from Sweet Apple Acres, and to wherever he’s decided is better to spend his time.

Dazed, I take a moment to process Discord’s threat. I’ve made a grievous error of judgement, and I’ll have to watch my step now; Discord is a powerful being, and I don’t want to think of what kind of fate could befall me that he would consider an “accident.” Continuing my dazed journey, I’m soon hailed by a southern drawl as I draw closer to the farm.

“Steve! Good to see you! What brings you all the way out to the farm, sugarcube?” Applejack’s voice snaps me out of my stupor, and back to reality.

“Well, I was hoping you could help me out with something…”

“Sincerely, your humble guest, Steve.” I pause a moment to let Spike catch up with me as he transcribes my letter; one of these days, I’ll have to learn how to write with my mouth. “That ought to do it, Spike. Go ahead and seal it up, then send it.” The scroll disappears into a fiery emerald inferno. “Thanks again, Spike. I literally could not have written that letter without you.” Spike beams with pride, before coming to a confused realization.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand; how do you plan on keeping this a secret from Rainbow Dash? She’s bound to find out eventually.” I can’t help but chuckle. I was painstakingly aware of Rainbow Dash’s keen sense of observation, and had only planned for the contingencies that were possible to prevent. I silently do a very unique set of motions that anyone who’s interacted with Pinkie Pie for more than 5 minutes or so would be familiar with, and Spike’s expression turns from confusion to wicked understanding. “You’ve had everypony involved pinkie promise… smart. But what if-” Spike doesn’t get to finish his question, Twilight enters the room. She hasn’t been privy to any part of the master plan yet.

“Then I tell her myself. In the meantime, we’re aiming for as much of a surprise as possible. But trust me; Rainbow Dash will like this.” Turning to Twilight, I shift the direction of the conversation. “Hello, Twilight. How are things going for you?” The suspicious glare I’m receiving from her amethyst eyes burrows into my soul, passing along the sentiment that I’m not leaving without explaining what she’d just walked in on. But that’s fine, because I’m going to need her help anyway.

“Well, I’ve isolated a way to turn the gems into a battery of sorts, but not how to tap into the energy within. We’re going to have to work this one from scrap, Steve.” She pauses a moment, and I shift my wings uncomfortably. “What was that about Rainbow Dash? What is it she’s going to like?” I quickly explain my plans, glossing over the pinkie promise part for the moment. “Well… from one to another, another to one. If you think this is necessary, then I’m sure we can figure it out.” I shift my weight from one side to the other, before making my request.

“Can you pinkie promise not to tell any of this to Rainbow Dash? It’s supposed to be a surprise…” Twilight rolls her eyes, shifting her own wings out of annoyance. One unbreakable promise later, and things are set. Well, almost set. But I’m sure that Twilight can pass on Pinkie Pie’s instructions in this matter while I’m in the Crystal Empire, and Pinkie Pie would do anything to see her friends smile. “Thank you, Twilight and Spike. I need to go, now; Princess Celestia asked the Wonderbolts to bring me along on some kind of mission.” With a quick farewell, I take flight from the balcony to meet up with my newfound travel group.

Grinning as I feel the wind in my mane, I take a moment to bask in the feeling of being content that I’ve come to experience. Things are going according to plan for the first time in a while, and it feels good. It’s sunny day in Equestria, and all is well. I could really get used to this.

Approaching the town hall, where we’re planning on departing from, I enter a steep dive. Reaching a questionably safe speed, I flare my wings at that last possible moment, testing the barrier between a lack of safety and a generous amount of effect like the best of drumlines at an international championship. I come to a hard stop, flapping my wings as I set all four hooves on the ground at once to avoid breaking any of my legs. The leather-clad pegasi of the Wonderbolts just sit there, watching my flashy entrance, and when the dust settles I’m met with a comment.

“Flashy. Just like some individuals on the team. A little sloppy, but not bad for a beginner.” I look up, and notice that it’s Blaze who’s critiquing my performance. Slightly embarrassed, I just tuck my wings away. It seems that we’re just waiting on Rainbow Dash. But why? I don’t think I’m going to have to wait long to find out, though, because there’s a concussive explosion a few thousand feet away, and a rainbow-colored shockwave that’s emanating from that location. A few seconds later, a solid rainbow trailing behind her, Rainbow Dash zips into view, coming in for a hot landing right next to the group. I have to hand it to her; the rainboom was a nice touch. Done up in her own leather jacket, and a set of saddlebags over her back, she has an extra set of goggles hanging from her mouth. At my questioning glance, she drops them at my hooves.

“You’re going to want these.” She says plainly, and only then do I notice that all the other Wonderbolts also have goggles of their own. “It’s not fun getting massive doses of snow and extremely cold air in your eyes; these will help.” Nodding, I put them on. A less than perfect fit, but good enough for the purpose of today’s activities. The other ponies shuffle anxiously; we’re clearly running behind schedule.

“Is everypony ready?” Spitfire asks, and then continues without waiting for a response. “Okay, then. Let’s fly.” With that, everyone takes off in near unison, leaving a thundering cloudtrail in their paths as they assume formation shortly after leaving the ground. Rainbow Dash nudges me, snapping me out of my impressed daze. I immediately try to emulate them, with a less than stellar degree of success. My beef with Spitfire will just have to wait; right now, it’s time to fly.

Reflecting on the Past

The stories I’d heard of the Frozen North were by far not exaggerated, almost to the degree of being tamer than the actual thing. Regardless, as the snow swirls around the Wonderbolts and myself, I find myself grateful for the jacket and flight goggles that have been gifted to me. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I’ve practically forgotten my beef with Spitfire; the cold and ice aren’t terribly forgiving in the wandering mind department, leaving me with no room in my head to think of anything other continuing motion to keep warm, and squinting through the goggles that have begun to freeze over with the frost from my own breath. Too bad for the unfortunate weather that I’ve picked up a few tricks to stave off that particular problem, though.

Dash had apparently planned for this eventuality, as she had begun lecturing me on principles of weather control when we were somewhere between Canterlot and Cloudsdale while we flew. And I was grateful, as it not only gave me insight into valuable skills which are coming in handy at this very moment, but it had also taken my mind off of how long we’d been flying, which in turn had given a small but measurable boost to my endurance. Granted, we’d needed to stop off in Cloudsdale anyway for food and other, more personal needs, at which time I’d taken advantage of the opportunity to get some help adjusting the goggles for a better fit, and then taking the chance to practice some hooves-on applications of what Dash had been lecturing me about thus far… that is, for all of 5 minutes, until I accidentally zapped Spitfire with a misplaced lightning bolt from a storm cloud that Dash had me attempting to manipulate, at which point the (understandably furious) officer had embargoed any further practice involving clouds.

“Your abilities stem from the magic that every pony’s body contains,” Dash had told me. “You can tap into that magic, and will what you wish from the weather with it. It is an extension of your willpower.” I’d given her a blank stare at the time, but in the last 3 hours of flying nose-first into a blizzard I’ve come to appreciate how easy that explanation had been to understand. “Don’t worry, newbie; most of it is instinctual. Kinda like how you’d known how to preen your feathers, or how to cloudwalk. The rest only needs training for safety and efficiency.”

That said, as I will the icing that’s occurred on my goggles to thaw, leave, and refreeze elsewhere, the solid water droplets had complied in breaking the laws of thermodynamics… at least, they had temporarily. All I’d done is donated a little bit of my energy to initiate a phase change, and then allowed my change to be undone once the water was clear of my field of vision. I’ve only had to do that about once every hour, which is a relief. I’ve almost fallen behind repeatedly, only being saved by the more experienced fliers around me noticing the flagging pace caused by me diverting my attention to a defrost, and mercifully slowing their own paces and performing their own defrosts at the same time.

“Alright, team! Listen up!” I’m jolted from my absent-minded flying by Spitfire’s sudden speaking up, the first vocal interaction any of the team has had in the last 4 hours. “The Empire’s weather warding will be coming into sight here in the next half hour; once inside we will land at the train station and await Captain Shining Armor! He will escort us to the palace, where we will be receiving a more in-depth briefing from Princess Cadance; because she wasn’t comfortable disclosing the cause of her distress call on paper, we have no clue what we’re flying in on. Be ready for anything. Your bunking instructions were enclosed in your orders-- Axios, leave those in your saddle bags! You can re-check them once we’re on the ground!” Blushing, despite the cold, I close the saddle bags I’d borrowed from Pinkie Pie with the orders still safely tucked inside. Annoyed, Spitfire returns to her briefing. “As I was saying, they’ll be on the 3rd page. We begin tackling the issue at 08:00 hours; don’t be late for breakfast! Any questions?”

“No, ma’am!” the rest of us cry in unison.

“Excellent; glad we’re crystal clear. Form up, and ready for final approach!” The group assumes a Diamond Formation, with Spitfire at the lead, Soarin and Fleetfoot on either side, and Rainbow Dash and I trailing the remainder of the group who’ve taken up positions 2 or 3 high. On cue, we all re-ignite our cloud trails as the cerulean-hued barrier formed by the Crystal Heart comes into view. Dash nudges me, and mutters in my ear.

“Pretty cool view, huh? Ever see anything like this in your jet?” I shake my head, stunned nearly speechless.

“No, the closest you get to this sort of view is when you pitch up too much, and risk stalling out. Fixed-wing flight requires you keep air moving over the wings to maintain lift…” I trail off, an idea forming in my head. Rainbow Dash glances at me, suddenly wearing an expression of concern under her goggled face. “I’ll explain later, Dash.”

We fly for another 10 minutes or so, the dome becoming more akin to a giant wall. Just as I’m about to panic that we’re going to crash, though, the lead trio flies right through it, and before I can process what I just saw, I pass through the barrier as well. Inside, the weather is comparable to a sunny Spring day, although I’m fairly sure that’s just an illusion created by the sudden lack of windchill. Landing next to the platform, we all remove our goggles and stow them in our saddle bags. Fleetfoot notices the dumbfounded look on my face, and as I glance back and forth between the shield and my unharmed hooves I hear her chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Axios. Everypony freaks out their first time.” She looks at me, an odd expression on her face. And then it hits me; she was one of the ponies that pulled my sorry ass out of the Ponyville Reservoir. She’d seen my inadvertent Rainboom, everything leading up to it, and the immediate aftermath of me underestimating my own abilities, and then she’d helped airlift my broken form back to Ponyville General. I owed this arctic blue pegasus for her hoof in saving my life…

“I never got to thank you…” I pause as she tosses me a questioning glance. “...for helping save me? Thank you… if it weren’t you, Soarin, and Spitfire, I wouldn’t be here; I’d probably be facedown at the bottom of the reservoir, even with Rainbow Dash being there…” I grimace, remembering my erroneous judgement of the after effects of the Rainboom. A few feet away, Fleetfoot mirrors my reaction.

“Why did you pull up like that? Surely you must’ve known…” she fixes me with a sharp stare, her fuschia eyes unwavering in intensity. I can’t do more than shrug.

“I’d always thought that the shockwave was purely visual; I had no reason to believe that I was effectively dealing with a high-power explosive, let alone that I was even capable of performing that stunt. Surely I’m not the only one who thought that was fairly exclusive to Dash, here, am I?” Fleetfoot just stares at me, open mouthed and clearly in shock at my own admission of self-doubt. I halfway expect her to ask me not to call her ‘Shirley’ with that expression…

“Woah, woah woah woah. Wait a minute; you mean to tell us that you DIDN’T intentionally do that?” This question comes from Misty Fly, to whom I just shake my head. “Alright, everypony who collected from me, pay up!” she announces, before admonishing Soarin. “You SERIOUSLY need to start getting all the details before telling stories like that.” The pale blue stallion turns a deep shade of red, not more than 2 or 3 shades lighter than my fur. Not that I’m not embarrassed; apparently I was just the source of a bet.

“All you had to do was ask, man,” I manage to say, before we’re approached from the direction of the town.

“Well… good afternoon, Captain.” I look up at the sound of Spitfire’s voice, and looking around I can see a white unicorn stallion approaching us, wearing a purple variation of the Royal Guard’s armor. No way, I think to myself, realizing that this must be our escort, Shining Armor. And then, I’m in Army mode again, realizing that Spitfire had addressed him by rank… and a superior rank, at that. I snap to attention, and involuntarily salute the Prince.

“Group, atten-SHUN! Present, ARMS!” I shout, startling half the Wonderbolts with the suddenness of my change in character. Spitfire doesn’t seem amused, although Shining Armor appears to be… chuckling. He finds it funny- just my luck. Trotting over to me, he returns the salute.

“Heh… didn’t expect to get that kind of welcome. At ease, by the way.” I relax visibly, somewhat embarrassed by how quickly my mind had changed gears. “So, it seems that you have some kind of military experience. But I don’t recognize you, so I doubt you were ever in the Royal Guard…” he ponders the situation for a moment, before asking a pointed question. “Tell me; are you the human I keep reading about in my sister’s letters?” I don’t think I like where this is headed, but I also don’t think that it’s wise to be dishonest. And everypony else knows anyway, so there’s no point in hiding it from him.

“Yes, sir. Yes, I am. Name’s Steve, sir,” I extend a hoof, which he graciously shakes. “I have to say; when I left Portland International, I never planned on paying Equestria an extended visit. That’s not even a documented flight path…” I look down, embarrassed, as the Captain chuckles.

“Well, care to fill me in? Where’d you get the military experience?” He seems genuinely interested, so I quickly tell my story of the couple years I spent in the Army, as well as the benefits I would’ve reaped had I stayed in longer. “So, wait… why'd you get out so early, then?” he pauses, adding a request to his question. “And can we walk and talk? My wife will kill me if I don’t get the lot of you to the castle… well, not KILL me, but you get the idea.” As a group, we set off for the castle in the middle of the Empire.

“Eh… life happened. It wasn’t ideal for me to maintain course, and I had other pressing matters that needed attending to,” I admit, telling only part of the truth. Shining Armor doesn’t seem convinced, but much to my relief he doesn’t press it any further. From the corner of my eye, I can see Spitfire eyeing me in a new light, having heard more of my story than I’d initially been willing to share with her when things were short-term business. “Besides; I had other responsibilities at the time.”

"As good a reason as any, I suppose," Shining Armor muses. "Come on; we're almost there." Passing the Crystal Heart, which I take a moment to admire, much to Spitfire’s chagrin, we enter the castle through massive doors… which I take a moment to admire, much to Spitfire’s chagrin.

“Now THAT is a big door,” I muse, before shaking my head and trotting inside to catch up with the rest of the group.

Bunking down for the night, all I can think of is that briefing, the utter bullshit that it was. Apparently, the initial issue had been resolved while we were in flight. Not surprising, shit like that happens all the time. But for a pony to go missing shortly afterwords? Something just isn't adding up. With a sigh, I lay down and resign myself to grab some sleep; last thing I want to do is miss breakfast - I hear the cooks in the Empire rival those in Canterlot.

But sleep doesn’t come. I lay awake, staring at the wall and reflecting on the last several years of my life. I’m not complaining or anything, I’ve had a good 20 years before now. But when did it become so… boring? Was flying a jet really getting so predictable that my dreams were slowly becoming the bane of my existence? And it doesn’t help that flight using 3 control surfaces, compared with the magically enhanced flight lent to me by my current form, is extremely limited in directional control, especially when I realize that my entire current body is effectively one giant control surface capable of vectoring me in ways no human jet could ever hope to have a chance of mirroring.

Finally having a name for how I’d felt before the transportation is both a relief and a cause for concern, but I can’t stay on that thought too long. Within a few minutes of contemplating this revelation, exhaustion finally gets the better of me and I slowly drift to sleep.

Good thing, too is the last thing I think before I finally enter Luna’s domain. Something tells me I’ll need all the rest I can get for tomorrow.

Author's Note

Aaaannnnnnd goodbye to a chunk of this one! Almost ended up doing a complete rewrite, until I found a couple spots that could use a replacement which would let the rest remain viable.

Fun fact, when I originally drafted this, yetis/hedgehogs/whatever the Storm King's minions are weren't yet canon to the franchise. Guess what? They are now, and my characterization of them was COMPLETELY wrong. Not even close enough to justify an incorrect blanket statement, either. Ergo, the reader no longer gets to know why the Wonderbolts were originally summoned, and a secondary problem had to pop up. Thanks, MLP: The Movie writers!

BONUS: see if you can spot the references! They're not obvious, but they're definitely in plain sight!

Steve Axios will return...

Crystal Clarity

You know, I thought I’d seen everything. Physics defied, forms changed, true magic. Generosity, kindness, acceptance, friendship. Hell, I’d even become accustomed to Discord’s chaotic antics. But none of it could’ve prepared me for this.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; strange things have had a propensity for occurring around me since I’d arrived here in Equestria. But when I’d suddenly fallen from the sky and the rest of the Wonderbolts hadn’t noticed my absence, I lost hope. Deciding to play it safe, I’d turned to make the trek back to the Crystal Empire.

“You’re not really going to waste my efforts, are you? There’s no way in Tartarus that you don’t know how difficult it’s been to get a moment alone with you.” Shocked, I’d halted in my tracks and spun around to face the female voice that’d called out to me… only to find a faded white and grey draconequus facing me. Unlike Discord, however, this draconequus’ features are perfectly symmetrical, portraying the appearance of the intentional combination of a select few species rather than a random mishmash of parts. She has the head of a pony, the antlers of a deer, talons for both arms, as well as cloven hooves for both legs and a pair bat-like wings. “What? Never seen a draconequus before? Come on; there’s a cave I’ve been sheltering in. I don’t feel like being responsible for you freezing to death.”

And that is how I came to be in my present situation, staring direct proof that Discord is not the only draconequus in Equestria right in the eyes. A few details have slotted into place as we had made our way to… dammit, she hadn’t told me her name, but we were headed to her makeshift shelter. Now out of the way of the winds, I force my tongue to work for me.

“Well, then… this is certainly a surprise,” I muse. “Tell me; what should I be calling you?” She pauses for a moment before relenting.

“You don’t seem surprised to see a draconequus in the flesh,” she replies. “I trust you are familiar with the concept of Yin and Yang?” I nod silently, intrigued. “Good; that will make this conversation easier. Since you haven’t panicked in reaction to seeing my form, I assume you are familiar with my brother, Discord… well, in nature all things require a balance. I am Concord, the Spirit of Order. Pleased to make your acquaintance, human.” With a humble bow, she extends a talon and shakes my hoof. Dumbstruck, I begin to sputter.

“Wait… your BROTHER?” If I’m laying on the sense of incredulity real thick, that’s because I truly am in disbelief like no tomorrow. Not 5 minutes ago, I’d thought that Discord was the only draconequus in Equestria. Now, I’m expected to believe that he is not only not alone, but also the sibling to the very antonym of his existence. This day can’t POSSIBLY get any weirder.

“Yes, my brother. It is part of a long story, one that I wish to share with you if you’ll allow it. But first,” Concord pauses to gauge my reaction. “I need to know what you’ve learned since you arrived here. Some of what I have to share with you may require me to explain things you may or may not have yet learned.”

So I tell her my story. All of it, from the ill-fated flight that had brought me here, to my failed return and subsequent transformation, and even her brother’s efforts to get me home. Until I shared my revelations of Discord’s intentions, she had been unreadable. Now, though, Concord is wearing an expression that I’ve come to recognize over the years as nostalgia.

“Well… maybe there’s hope for Discord after all. Things weren’t always like they are now; at one point, ponies trusted us to keep a balance in this world. Trusted HIM to do his part in that. We even worked alongside the founders of the ponies’ society as you know it- Chancellor Puddinghead, Princess Platinum, and Commander Hurricane. You’ve heard of them, yes?” I indicate in the affirmative, simultaneously fascinated by her tale and throttled by the implications of what she is sharing with me. “Good, this spares me the time retelling the story of Hearth’s Warming. Regardless, we worked with them from the shadows; nopony would’ve ever agreed to anything that came as a result of working with the creations of the defeat of the windigos.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupt, unable to sit idly by as she drops this particular bombshell on me. “How did the windigos’ defeat manage the amount of power necessary to create a pair beings as strong as you and Discord?” I hide my face behind my wings out of embarrassment, expecting to be met with my doom… but it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear hearty laughter. Looking out from behind my childish shield, I’m greeted with the sight of Concord doubled over, grinning wide and guffawing incessantly. “I don’t understand… what’s so funny about that question?”

“Silly human,” she begins between chortles. “You should know the parallels. After all, Luna DID tell you that your arrival awoke an ancient magic that had been lost before she and Celestia came to power, didn’t she?” A moment later, the realization of what Concord has just said dawns on me, and apparently my inadequate poker face, too. “Now you understand it; the fate of Equestria was put in limbo by the defeat of the agents of its demise, and we manifested out of a direct need by the flow of magic to restore order. Your arrival has once again upset that balance, but I believe that one of our greatest proteges has already explained to you the implications of this particular occurrence… regardless, our response was to work the problem by means of the individuals that created it. Unfortunately, this meant that we needed to work from the shadows…” she leaves off, at which point I pick up in earnest.

“And Discord didn’t appreciate that, I imagine. He turned on his sibling, wreaking havoc as he acted on his basest desires.” Concord simply nods, and she seems proud of how fast I've caught on to the pattern.

“Indeed, that is exactly what happened. Nightmare Moon before Nightmare Moon, as you would probably surmise.” She pauses, seemingly conflicted by what she’s about to tell me. “Except he banished me here to the Frozen North, and proceeded to turn the rest of Equestria into a realm of complete chaos. It took our students, taught by proxy of Starswirl the Bearded, turning on my brother and using the Elements of Harmony against him for that reign of terror to end. But alas, they did not know that were 2 draconequi, else they may have opted to help me.

“Forever stranded in this frozen waste, I created the Crystal Empire and its protective relic to cope with the sense of loss I was experiencing. You’ve indicated that you know the story of that endeavor, so I won’t bother telling you about King Sombra’s takeover and subsequent banishing of me from my own creation.” The ancient draconequus seems to be on the verge of tears, but she presses forward.

“When I heard that my beautiful creation had been rediscovered, I set forth to check in on my creation… it seems that the new rulers, Princess Cadance and her husband Shining Armor, do not know of my existence either, as that would be how you and that group you flew with came to be dispatched to 'deal with me' as it were.” She smiles weakly at me. “And that brings us to our current situation, as well as why I had sought words with you. You are familiar with being displaced; I would like to request your help being welcomed back, if you would be so kind.”

As I look back and forth between Concord, and the general direction of the Crystal Empire, my resolve strengthens. I look to Concord, praying that I’m not about to make the greatest mistake of my life.

“Alright then, I’ll help.” She seems overjoyed at the news, but sobers real quickly at the sheepish expression on my face. “I’m just a little lost, since I fell out of the sky and whatnot… would you happen to know the way back?”

Shaken and exhausted, I enter the throne room. Inside, I’m immediately mobbed by all the ponies that had (unbeknownst to me) been awaiting news on my disappearance.

“THERE you are! We were worried sick about you, newbie!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, as she hits me with a flying tackle hug. Spitfire seems to be the most collected, although she’s also been visibly shaken.

“Thought I’d have to report to Celestia that I’d gotten you killed in the Frozen North… boy, am I glad I don’t have to do that.” Her attempt to cover up her emotions doesn’t fool me, but I don’t say anything in order to help her save face. One pony’s question in particular, though, catches my attention.

“We’re so glad you’re safe, Steve, but would you be so kind as to explain where you were?” Cadance may be one of the kindest beings to exist, but her question still raises a little ire in me. I reply with all the kindness I can muster.

“Thank you, Princess Cadance, for your concern. And yes, I would love to share what happened. In fact, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Gesturing to the door as Concord enters, I watch Cadance’s face as she (and everypony else in the room) gasps in shock. “Cadance, this is Concord, the Spirit of Order. Concord, Princess Cadance. I believe the two of you have a lot to discuss.”

And then, the Wonderbolts and myself are escorted from the room. Rainbow Dash nudges me and whispers in my ear.

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Steve. This is a pretty big deal, even by my standards.” I shrug nonchalantly, but I know she’s right. I may have just altered the fate of Equestria irreversibly…

Author's Note

Oh, come on. We've all wondered if Discord was the only draconequus in existence at SOME point or another, right? All I did was take a real philosophy, and apply it while taking the next logical step.

Besides... I think you'll find that Concord has more to offer than a petty sob story that only seems to serve to further alter the history of Equestria, so have a little patience for her.

Luckily, the reader can infer a bit about the original reason for the 'Bolts being summoned to the Empire from this chapter. And before you ask, the "missing pony" from last chapter is home safe and sound; she found a different cave to shelter in a bit further out in the Frozen North, and the Wonderbolts found her when they landed to start searching for Steve.

We're getting close to the breaking point, here; I'm thinking one of the older chapters before the actual breaking point is going to be scrapped, with the only non-fluff portion of its content being rephrased at the beginning of Brutal Truths of Borrowed Wings. After that... well, I'll release the non-canon chapter again without changes, and it'll be considered a bit of intermission reading. I'm gonna try to get the writing portion of the remainder of this story done for Camp NaNoWriMo (which is starting today), and then I'll release them as I get them edited.

The Entr'acte will be entitled Of the Sky, To the Sky, and will be where the thread begins to unravel. In addition, the Crusaders will be getting untagged as main characters - they no longer have a role to play in the ending.

Good luck and safe flying, readers

Brutal Truths of Borrowed Wings

"So," Twilight begins, rubbing a temple with her hoof. "You came out here, ended up searching for a missing pony, and instead of a pony you found a draconequus. Am I still with you so far?"

"Eeyup," I nod.

"But this isn't just any draconequus, oh no no. This is DISCORD'S SISTER?!" A hair or two in Twilight's mane pop out of place as she asks this. I nod and back up a few steps, not eager to see where this is going.

"Er... yeah, she is. Say, your mane is doing that thing again... you okay, Twilight?"

Twilight pauses, taking a moment to breathe and calm down. I don't blame her, either; she's spent her whole life knowing the version of Equestria's history that the Princesses themselves knew, and now she's being forced to relearn what she had come to see as child's play. Put in her hooves, I'd be liable to freak out a bit, too.

"Sorry, Steve." She grins sheepishly. "Are you sure she's telling the truth, though?"

"I don't know," I shake my head. "The only person I know who can possibly corroborate her story would probably enjoy seeing us squirm more than he really should, and he and I aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment."

Twilight shakes her head, not even bothering to ask how I'd managed to burn a bridge with Discord.

Don't ask me how it happened, but I've somehow found myself recounting some of the more noteworthy aviation stories that we have on Earth at Twilight's request. Currently, I’m recounting the story of one Captain Zero, who pulled off all kinds of crazy stunts in a Boeing 727 without ever being fired.

“So, this crazy asshole gets grounded a third time so he can be terminated as soon as possible. Unfortunately for his airline, though, the ALPA steps in YET again and saves his sorry ass by getting him reinstated once more. He was re-stationed, this time at Washington National. Problem is, this airport has a particular runway that points directly at the White House.” Twilight gives me an odd look, so I quickly explain the significance. “It’s my country’s equivalent of the castle in Canterlot.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.” Twilight nods for me to continue.

“Anyway, you don’t fuck with the White House. Hence, taking off from that runway, there’s a step in the procedure where you make a hard left turn so you don’t buzz the White House- granted, if you DO buzz the House and you AREN’T dealing with an emergency, the Fed is going to have a word with you. Well, Captain Zero, as he came to be called, had some strange musings about that procedure. Very strange musings indeed, which no sane pilot would ever do.

“It eventually got to the point that his first and second officers would prepare the cockpit crash ax, ready to hijack their own plane in order to keep the passengers and crew alive.” Twilight’s eyes widen, and she visibly shrinks in her seat. “Luckily, nothing ever came of it. The airline soon went bankrupt, and thanks to Captain Zero’s record he was never considered by another airline as a pilot.” Twilight visibly relaxes, although she still seem bothered by something. “Something the matter, Twilight?”

“Earth doesn’t sound like a very nice place,” she muses. “What do you see in it that makes you want to return?” The question leaves me at a loss for words. I mean, Earth is my home- but then again, home is where the heart is, and Equestria is quickly capturing my heart more than Earth ever had. I don’t know what to think anymore.

“I- I don’t know,” I stutter.

“Well, when you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, let’s get back to the castle to get ready for the return trip to Ponyville.”

A letter. It's always a letter; never in person, never by phone, never even by messenger - only a letter will ever come to ruin everything. Fucking bureaucrats and their letters. I probably would've done something stupid if I wasn't surrounded by friends when this one arrived, which I had promptly opened and read.

"Steve,

I sincerely hope you have enjoyed the time you've had with your wings, and it pains me to have to give you this news in this manner. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I cannot allow you any more time in your current form. According to my best biologists, you're fast approaching the point where you will be unable to return to your human form- not in a stable mental state, that is. Of course, this is according to our best approximations, as you are the first occurrence of your situation in our recorded history, so it's possible you may have surpassed that point long ago.

I'm afraid I must be frank with you. I will be coming to Ponyville tomorrow to reverse your transformation. You will still have the option to assume your current body once again should you choose the option to remain on Equus, but in order for you to have a real choice in the matter I regret that I must suspend that privilege to a later date.

I am truly sorry.

Yours truly,
Princess Celestia"

Dropping the letter on the ground, I flew away as fast as my wings would carry me. I didn't get very far, though, as both Twilight and Rainbow Dash were stronger flyers than myself. I'd quickly been captured in Twilight's magic, and locked into a tight hug by the two mares once we'd returned to the ground, near the Crystal Heart. With nowhere to go, and no words coming to my mouth, all I could find the capacity to do was cry as they held me there to do so.

For several minutes, I'd wept for the impending loss of my wings, and for reasons I couldn't name. Eventually, I'd been shepherded onto the train back to Ponyville, where I'm currently staring into the sky outside my window, longing to take flight. Once, I'd cursed this body's affinity for extreme emotional responses. Now, though, I embrace the urge to cry myself to sleep.

I find myself face-to-face with Princess Luna, almost as if she's been in the Dream Realm proactively awaiting my inevitable arrival.

"I just heard that my sister-" she begins, only to cut off at a wave of my hoof.

"Told me that the best week of my life is being forced to come to a close?" I interrupt, spurred on by rage. "Yes. Yes, she did. By 'We regret to inform you' letter, in true hooves-off bureaucratic fashion." Luna flinches at the malice dripping from my words.

"I- I'm sorry to hear that. Is there any way I can help you feel better?"

I don't hear anything after the first three words in her question. I've taken off, leaving a Sonic Rainboom in my wake- something I can only intentionally do in my dreams. I intend to fly as far away from my problems as fast as I can. Eventually, though, I conjure a cloud and a land on it, content to just lay there and savor the sensation.

And apparently, Luna has gotten the message that I want to be left alone, because my surroundings shift and I drift off into other dreams...

I awaken in Ponyville General Hospital, a human once more. I have no memory of anything beyond falling asleep on the train, although a note on the table next to my bed fills in the blanks.

"Steve-

I am truly sorry for having done this, but you were quite combative when I arrived to return you to your original form. I've come to know you as somepony who tries to do right, and feels (occasionally unwarranted) regret when things go wrong. Therefore, I felt the greatest gift I could give you is ignorance regarding some of the things you said and attempted to do. I know that you didn't mean any of it, and I don't want you beating yourself up over it, so I've blocked the memories of the last 24 hours for you.

Ponyville General has orders to keep you for the next three days, so try and relax. Trust me when I say you need the break, more than you know.

Yours truly,
Princess Celestia

P.S.- I've had the chance to meet with Concord. You've done well by Equestria by finding her, and even as you're reading this she's helping Twilight with the final stages of the research into tapping into the ambient magic within Equestria's gems. I get the feeling that some of your accomplishments will permanently remain in ponykind's knowledge, regardless of any which choice you make regarding Earth versus Equus."

I set the letter aside, and begin to weep once more. I had known this day would come; I just wish it hadn't been so soon. All things that are borrowed must be returned, even one's wings.

Outside, by pure coincidence, it rains. Almost as if Equus knows that it's both fulfilled my dreams and broken my heart, all in the course of three weeks.

Author's Note

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of Act I as it were. You can look forward to a new chapter that's actually canon to this story some time next month; right now, I'm focused solely on writing. Editing and publishing can come later...

[Non-canon] Intermission: A Day in the Life...

It's a frigid morning in Ponyville, with Winter having been brought into full swing almost a month prior. Alighting on one of the many grey clouds I'd helped move into place, I pause to reflect on the events of the past several months, even as a shiver rakes through my body. As cold as it is on the ground, it's much more noticeable just a few thousand feet up. Taking my scarf in my teeth, I pull it tighter in an attempt to retain more of my body heat; I may have grown a thicker coat for the Winter, but that doesn't change that the weather is colder than I'd been used to.

"I thought I'd find you up here," a familiar voice calls out. I look over in time to see Rainbow Dash push another cloud nearby before settling down on it in very much the same way I'm resting on mine. "What's on your mind?"

"Not much," I respond with a sigh. "I was just wondering what's happening back on Earth... I mean, it IS just a couple weeks away from Christmas, after all..."

"What's this 'Christmas' thing you're talking about?" she asks.

"Well... best I can tell from what you and Twilight have told me about pony holidays, it's our equivalent to Hearth's Warming. Except instead of celebrating the founding of our society, it's a day to spend with one's family," I explain, staring at nothing in particular off in the distance. "I just can't help but wonder..."

"You're worried about your folks back home, aren't you?"

I look Dash in her magenta eyes, attempting to determine her motivation for such a question. They betray a certain degree of concern... but also sorrow, for some reason. Almost like she pities me for my "loss," if it can really be considered as much.

"Truthfully? Yes," I begin. "I am. This will be the first year that I've spent away from them... I'm worried about how they're taking it. Especially since I won't return... I just don't know, Dash. I don't know..."

I return my gaze to the distance, taking in the view of everything, and yet nothing. I feel a wing extend over my back as Rainbow draws me closer, and for a time we just remain there, staring off into the distance. Finally, almost a half hour later, she withdraws her wing and stands up; my cue to do the same.

"Come on... Pinkie Pie's got the perfect cure for this cold weather," she offers. "Besides; you don't want to miss out on her hot chocolate. It's the best stuff you'll ever taste, AJ's cider aside." That's enough to draw a grin from me, as I recall the sweet substance I had sampled at harvest time.

"Okay, then. You win," I tease, blowing Dash a raspberry. "Last one there buys."

"Oh, it is ON!"

I take off with a shout, Rainbow hot on my trail. Of course, I'll let her win... it's become something of a ritual anyway. After all, it's just another day in my life as a pony.

Author's Note

This chapter isn't considered canon to this story; it's just me taking a moment to get back into the Pilot's Seat after a while of not being able to write, and I figured y'all might enjoy an update after all this time. After all, the holidays ARE drawing near... I'll try to get one more update in before the new year, though.

Just try not to think about it, and enjoy.

Steve Axios will return...

Reset and Restart

Question: does anyone really believe I actually honored that request to stay at Ponyville General for the full three days? Because you better believe I didn't.

First chance I got, I made a break for it, only for the nurses to catch me in the act. Well, more like Twilight caught me sneaking out and promptly gave me away, but same difference. Thing is, they just unknowingly issued me a challenge: "try and get out without us noticing, we dare you." And I don't quit when I'm issued a challenge. Really is one of my fatal flaws, now that I think of it. But in the heat of the moment, I only had one objective: get out, and get to work on that damn airliner.

You're probably wondering at this point why the borderline obsession, and I'm gonna share a little secret with you (okay, maybe a big one; same difference): I'm stir crazy. Nothing but the urge to get up there again, to the open sky. To soar among the clouds free as a bird. See, there's this little speed bump that everyone seems to forget about: those whose hearts belong to the sky will always return to the sky.

I will find a way back up there, even if it's the end of me.

I guarantee it.

"God damn it all!" I scream out of frustration, yet another attempt to leave having been thwarted. "I told y'all once, I told y'all a thousand times! I need to be DOING something, not just sitting around with my thumb up my ass!" It's worth noting that I'd also be kicking rather than just screaming, if I hadn't been hit with some kind of paralytic on my way out the last set of doors between me and freedom. Whatever they decided to deploy against me, it works FAST; dropped me in four seconds flat.

"Yes, because the other forty-seven attempts to escape weren't evidence enough that you should be right here, resting like the Princess suggested for you," my doctor grumbles sarcastically. "No offense, but I liked the hotheaded pegasus that you were when you were assigned to my case load better."

"And I don't?" I snap, beyond out of patience for the mud-colored stallion. "Damn it, doc! I'm an operator, not an administrator! Wanna know the best therapy for me? It's to be working the problem, not talking about it."

"You know," he responds, "you remind me of me. Quick to act, refusing to stop and think. Here's my advice, kid: figure out how to change that - rapidly." I open my mouth to protest, to no avail. "And if you can give us one decent night of not trying to sneak out, then maybe - just MAYBE - I might consider authorizing a little field trip for you to start trying to 'work the problem' as you put it. As I seem to understand from the most recent briefing, that airplane of yours currently has its engines off, so there's no way in Tartarus that you can possibly screw anything up. Dig?"

Oh, that's a carrot from the good doctor, all right. A big, fat carrot that screams "we're desperate, just make it stop" to my face. And I'd be an idiot to waste such a monumental concession, so maybe I can stay here for a little longer after all.

"Dug."

I have to admire Twilight's blueprints; they really are a stroke of genius. We can't design new engines from scratch; that would require time, materials and experience we don't have. Instead, she's devised a way to replace the combustor with something more akin to a magnetic levitation device; best I can tell, the engine will draw mana from the battery, and then use some kind of electromagnetism to drive the innards - all of which is beyond the scope of my knowledge, so I must commend Twilight for figuring it out.

That said, the transition has created something of a nightmare for the electrical and hydraulic systems; previously, they would be tied to engines in some way or another. You would start the APU almost straight away because you don't have much 'juice' in the batteries to begin with, at which point it essentially becomes a generator - and once you had your engines started, they would assume that task in lieu of the APU, which would then be powered down. This is still true, mind you; once the engines are running, everything should work the exact same - in theory (something that Twilight is all too happy to keep reminding me of). The only problems are getting the engines running in the first place, and having enough power to complete the appropriate checklists before you can even CONSIDER starting your engines.

Now, believe it or not, the aviation industry has encountered these issues at least once before, and we have tools to deal with it. Without a properly working APU, you encounter issues where you don't have power for your instruments OR air pressure for engine start. We've seen it with older aircraft that might not have had APUs installed, and we can encounter it at any point with modern airliners if the APU should suffer a malfunction. For this reason, airports keep some useful ground service equipment laying around. The first is essentially a generator, called the "Ground Power Unit" or GPU. From my understanding, this isn't exactly feasible in Equestria, so it will likely be replaced with some kind of device that converts mana into electricity. The second device is essentially a glorified air compressor, called a huffer. Its sole job is to move massive amounts of air through a flexible hose, and directly into an aircraft's bleed air ducts. Funny enough, the ponies already have something like this that they use for training to fly in extreme weather - the only challenge is finding a large enough hose to hook that bad boy up to my ride. That's a challenge for another time, though.

As I oversee the remounting of the number one engine, I can't help but think about the hole in my memory. In the short time I've known Celestia, she never struck me as one to mess with one's memories. Has she done some fucked up things in her time on the throne? Yeah, obviously. You can't banish your own sister for a millennium and still claim to be a saint, even if it was done under duress. If magic is an extension of your willpower, then there has to be at least SOME iota of intent behind such a heinous act. But she does have limits, and from what I can tell memory wiping would be beyond them.

So, once enough bolts are re-threaded to prevent the engine from dropping to the ground, I address the issue.

"Twilight," I say without looking away from the port wing. "Celestia wiped my memories." A solid 30 seconds elapses before Twilight's response.

"The princess wouldn't," Twilight says slowly. "That's not her style."

"I know," I reply. "I think she's being framed."

"Framed?!" Twilight exclaims. "By who? And how do you know?" I pass Twilight the letter.

"That, my friend, is the million dollar question, and the quarter million dollar chaser." I state matter-of-factly. Twilight's brow furrows as she reads the correspondence. "Does that read like something she'd say? Does it look like her writing? Because it passes zero of two tests in my opinion."

"Discord, maybe?" She suggests.

"I doubt it," I sigh. "He's been too damn helpful to turn around and pull something like this."

"Well, I'm glad SOMEONE finally appreciates what I do around here," the aforementioned draconnequess snarks over my shoulder, making me jump a foot and a half in the air in shock. "It's a nice change of pace from everyone besmirching my good name."

"God fucking damn it, Discord... you really need to stop doing that, y'know? Gonna stop a person's heart that way someday," I accost him between shaking breaths, my heart still going a million miles an hour.

"Bah, no fun." He pouts. "Seriously, though, you're right. I had nothing to do with this, and ol' Sunbutt certainly doesn't have it in her."

Twilight turns to me, a bewildered expression on her face.

"Well, if it's not Celestia or Discord, who could it be?"

"I'm not sure," I reply grimly. "But I have a few ideas."

The mood soured, we finish mounting the engine and call it a day. Each of us vows to get a good night's sleep, because tomorrow's going to be a very busy day.

Author's Note

This has GOT to be the single worst entr'acte in the history of writing. I blame... IDK what I blame. I blame something other than myself, whilst also blaming myself for being an un-creative fuck. Doesn't make sense? Yeah, not for me, either. But that's what we're rolling with.

Fun fact, that comment about hydraulic systems being tied to the engines is why the Airbus A320 family exhibits a "barking" sound on startup - that would be the Hydraulic system's PTU (Power Transfer Unit) coming online. As I understand it, only the 'Blue' line operates independently of the engines, while the 'Green' and 'Yellow' lines are reliant on engines 1&2 respectively. The 'B' line is backed up by the RAT (Ram Air Turbine; another story altogether), while the 'G' and 'Y' lines are backed up to each other (and therefore the opposite engines) by the PTU, which actively works to stabilize pressure between the two lines.

Coincidentally, the complete lack of power is why the rudder on a parked A320 is always oriented either hard to starboard or hard to port; when the engines are shut down, the hydraulic system slowly depressurizes and the rudder will be free to move with the wind.

(NOTE: we really don't talk about 'B' much; it's more of a backup line than anything, and only comes online when the RAT is deployed)

Mind you, this is an extremely crude explanation that is intended to be comedic in nature; if you want to know how this stuff ACTUALLY works, maybe ask an ACTUAL aircraft mechanic. I'm just a pilot wannabe that's writing a story - accuracy is quite literally above my pay grade. At this point, I'm talking out my ass and calling it art; not sorry if that offends you.

Blah blah blah, took me long enough, surprise motherbuckers story's not dead, etc etc.

Steve Axios will return.

Where e≠mc²

It's been almost a month since I got out of Ponyville General, and you better believe I don't miss the place. In that time, we've managed to finish installing both engines and the magic battery packs, mostly rewire the control panels to include new functions in lieu of old ones we've dropped and, my personal favorite, started prepping the body for a new paint job. Nothing against my flight school's insignia, but this thing isn't even going to fly when I get back to Earth; it'll be gliding at a ratio of roughly 17,000 feet traveled for every 1,000 feet of lost altitude because the redesigned engines will completely lose power once I leave Equestria's thaumatic field (something Twilight has taken every possible opportunity to remind me of) - and all of that is assuming I fly in a straight line and hope there's a mile of straight, flat pavement I can set it down on at the end of it. More realistically, I'll be making a series of turns to avoid traffic and line myself up for wherever I'll have to set it down, meaning I can expect to travel roughly half that distance per 1,000 feet lost.

I'm not sure what's sadder: the fact that I've actually agreed to a modification which will force a dead-stick landing when I get home, or the fact that I just went through all that trouble just now solely to justify a paint job... not that I care - when I get back, my future won't be in a cockpit. It's only a matter of time before something about Equestria leaves my mouth, and I'll find myself wearing a straight jacket in some asylum somewhere... ergo, combined with the fact that the airliner will cost more to re-outfit for earthly flight than it's worth and that the damn thing will likely never see the air again once I'm done with it, I think it ought to at least look nice for its final flight. Wouldn't it be appropriate that it should bear some custom insignia that Pinkie and I have come up with, which involves the all the princesses' cutie marks in one giant compilation piece? Considering the popular vote among the group was to call the project 'Equestria One,' I think it fits perfectly.

Back on topic, though, things have been great for the most part. I'm currently reinstalling one of the last couple panels we have left, which didn't have any modifications made to it, but was necessary to remove in order to get at some of the wiring for the adjacent panel with a slew of new functions being added... the portal spell matrix controls, to be exact. Twilight hasn't been too open about the specifics when it comes to those little buggers, and it's been a bit frustrating.

After all, Celestia knows that if there was ever a single point of failure in this whole plan, it would be them.

Speaking of the devil, she's here right now. And Twilight's cleaning up my mess. Again. I can hardly be blamed, though. There's a gap in my memory, and the next one I have is of reading a letter allegedly in her horn writing stating that she was the one to tamper with my mind.

Rationally, I know she didn't. Someone else is responsible for the missing day in my memory. Emotionally, though... when the Princess arrived, I saw red. I snapped, and I lunged for her, hell bent on planting a boot in her flank just like my rich Uncle Sam taught me.

I never made it, though. One of her guards intercepted me, and received my boot in her stead... then proceeded to give me a black eye in return. Which I deserved. And then began the talking.

I shake my head, rubbing my sore eye, and focus on torqueing down the bolts. One after another, I tighten them to spec, my torque wrench announcing each success with a resounding click. The princesses are laughing about something. Another click.

Then, hoofsteps approaching from behind.

Celestia clears her throat.

"You know I didn't write that letter, right?" Click.

"I'm aware." Click.

"And I didn't alter your memory." Click.

"I gathered." Click.

A pause, during which I torque the last three bolts, then return my wrench to my borrowed toolbox.

"So who's your money on, then?" I ask, half knowing the answer deep in my gut.

"Concord," she answers simply.

I sigh deeply. I had a feeling, but I'd been hoping it wasn't right. This means I brought it all upon myself by returning the long-lost draconnequess back into society.

"I was afraid of that."

Celestia gives me a sympathetic smile.

"So what's your plan?"

"Undetermined," I grunt, standing up straight for the first time in a couple hours. "In the meantime, though... we need to fire this thing up and see if it'll even run. I'm assuming you'll want to see that?"

Celestia's smile widens.

"I'd love to."

"All clear for engine start!"

Spitfire's command sets off a flurry of motion, as ponies rush to move tools and equipment into and out of position, then get clear of the large turbofans. I turn to Rainbow Dash, who's faithfully positioned in the FO seat to my right.

"Ready?"

Dash salutes.

"I was born ready!" She declares.

Nodding in satisfaction, I begin walking through the checklist with her. The GPU is already running, giving us power to our instruments for our pre-startup checklist. Slowly, painstakingly, I guide her around her half of the cockpit, directing her to the numerous switches, dials, and gauges indicated on the QRH. She's learning quickly, but she could still use a more experienced hand to lead the way.

Upon determining that we're go for engine start, I signal to Soarin, who starts the huffer. Air surges through the bleed lines, causing engine 2 to start windmilling. Slowly, painfully, the turbines start to spin up, that classic sound not unlike the THX studio card starts to reverberate through the frame, causing a slight shudder that makes me fear for my aircraft's airworthiness. It's a good thing she only has 2 more flight cycles left in her life, because it suddenly dawns on me that she might not be structurally sound for any more than that. Finally, the moment of truth, and I flick the #2 fuel control up to the 'on' position. A sudden surge in pitch, and the engine finishes spooling up, sustaining itself on magic and momentum. Soarin shuts down the huffer, and Flitter disconnects the hose.

A quick redirect of my bleed air, and #1 begins to spool up. It coughs out some smoke as it burns away the protective coat of oil we'd laid down after replacing the shattered fan blades, but otherwise spins up just like its #2 counterpart, before finally stabilizing once I flick up its fuel control.

I let the engines idle for a minute, then two, and then five. I hold down on the brakes, and slowly start throttling up. Ever so carefully, I run the engines up to TO/GA, only to bring them back to idle a minute later. I lift the locking levers, and engage my thrust reversers, making sure that they work as intended. Satisfied, I walk through the shutdown procedures with Dash, grinning from ear to ear.

Equestria One's engines are fully operational. Twilight's redesign works.

I'm going home.

Author's Note

PSA: FUCK Depression.

That is all.

Steve Axios will return.