The New Recruit

Spitfire had enjoyed her night, and deservedly so. After she woke up, she took a shower, put on her uniform, had breakfast, and made her way to her office to fill out paperwork. It was boring, but it was kind of relaxing, too. That she could just sit here and do paperwork meant that there wasn't anything important to deal with, but it also meant that there wasn't anything more fun to take part in.

She sighed as she started another rejection letter. She still hadn't decided on her final candidate, as the two at the top of the rejection list weren't very good. She had to pick either the one that showed up late and mouthed off to her about needing to make sure her daughter made it to dance class, or the one that had lapsed into a narrative of his own and committed to the bit so hard that he'd forgotten what he was actually doing. The idiot was at least trying, so if he failed, it would probably be due to a medical issue, but if he could improve his flight skills and improve his focus, he could be as good as Soarin. In the other hoof, the entitled prick would probably just drop out when things ended up tough, or perhaps refuse to show up for events, which would remove the academy's liability in her case.

There was a knock at her door. A familiar rapping that she knew without having to even look up. "Come in, Soarin."

"Good morning, captain," addressed Soarin as he came in and stood at attention. "I have news of a developing emergency, ma'am."

Spitfire glanced up. "If it truly is an emergency, what's with the calmness?"

"I trust the crew I left to handle it while I'm gone, but your presence is requested at the scene."

She tented her hooves and leaned back. "Requested? Not required?"

"He's asking for you by name, ma'am. If he jumps or falls, we are prepared to catch him and take him into custody, but we'd like to have him surrender, and stop pushing us away. We think you might be able to convince him to come into our custody, ma'am."

Spitfire sighed. "Alright, lead the way, lieutenant."

The source of the disturbance wasn't that far away, thankfully. It was right beneath them. There was already a large group of Wonderbolts and Wonderbolt cadets at the scene of the incident, as well as a few onlookers just watching.

"Let uth take you down to the ground," offered Fleetfoot. "I'm thure that whatever your buthineth ith with Thpitfire, you can dithcuth it on the thurfath."

"No! I need to talk to her in her office!"

Spitfire knew that voice, but couldn't place it right away. She'd talked to him before, probably even recently.

"Thir, be reathonable. Thpitfire ith a very buthy mare, and hath a lot of tathkth that the needth to perform today. We can thend her to meet you at almotht any dethtination you thee fit."

"My destination is her office! That's where I'm going to meet her!"

"We can arrange that, but you have to thtep down from that cloud and onto tholid ground, thir."

"No! I need to go up there and talk to her! Just let me go up there and talk to her, and then I'll comply!"

As Spitfire managed to work her way through the crowd, she spotted the stallion in question, clinging to a cloud as if his life depended on it. To be honest, it kind of did. He was, after all, an earth pony, and the only thing between him and the ground was that cloud, forty-someodd Wonderbolts, and over a kilometre of air.

"What an absolute dumbarse," snorted one of the cadets. "He's going to fall, and I'm going to laugh."

Spitfire turned her attention to the cadet. "What was that? Speak up, so that everypony can hear what you just said, cadet!"

As she glowered at him, he lost his nerve and could not answer for fear of being outed in front of everypony.

"Did you perhaps say something like "I'm going to go up to the field now, because I've just decided that I owe fifty laps?" Because if so, then you'd better go do so, shouldn't you?!"

With a hard swallow, a bucket of sweat, and a shaky salute, he croaked out the words "yes, ma'am," and flew off.

"I should go watch him," noted Soarin. "I'll make sure he does it."

"Clear out these civilians, first," commanded Spitfire. "This isn't a sideshow. Unless they're directly related to the subject, send them home. When you make it to the track, start at one. I will not tolerate such disregard for the citizens of my country."

"Yes, ma'am," saluted Soarin, moving to herd the onlookers away.

Spitfire moved in front of the stallion, bringing with her a cloud to sit on. "Good morning, Mr. Clubs." She glanced at her watch, then set it back down. "Or should I say, "Good afternoon?" It is twelve-oh-three as of the beginning of our conversation. How are we today?"

"V-very nervous, ma'am," he answered. "Y-you can call me A-Ace, ma'am."

"Would that make you feel more comfortable? If I called you Ace, would you feel more able to relax?"

"Y-yes, ma'am..."

"Very well, Ace. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Ace looked around at the surrounding ponies. "I would... I would p-prefer if we s-s-spoke in your office, m-ma'am..."

"Is there some reason for that, Ace?"

"I'd like our c-c-conversation to be more... p-private..."

"I see. Well, you've made quite the spectacle, here. That we are unable to be having this conversation in my office is your own doing."

"To cause such a stir was not my intent, ma'am." He'd closed his eyes and spoken as quickly as he could to avoid stuttering.

Spitfire was silent for a moment, then looked down at the ground. He was quite a distance up, and with Soarin claiming that nopony except Spitfire could approach, the distance he had put between himself and the ground was quite impressive, especially considering the fact that he was an earth pony. The cloud he was on wasn't attached to anything, meaning he hadn't been given a pillar to climb, unless the Wonderbolts had knocked out all other connections, something she would not allow, as it would have needlessly endangered his life.

"How did you manage to make it up here?"