"Infosec"? What Proof is That?
There were days when Rainbow Dash still couldn't believe she was in the Wonderbolt locker room. Her! There! With the greatest fliers in Equestria! Sure there had been some bumps in the road—harsh training, demanding tests, security clearances—but she was living the dream! Some days, she even had to bite herself on the pastern to make sure she wasn't actually dreaming.
And the funny thing was, the other 'Bolts found her just as hard to believe. Which made sense when she thought about it; palling around with Twilight Sparkle often put her in situations she'd never thought possible until they happened. But it took the incredulous stares of her wingmates for her to realize just how incredible her life had been.
"You've played Ogres and Oubliettes."
That said, sometimes their skepticism was just insulting. "What's that supposed to mean, Dizzy?"
Misty Fly shrugged her wings as they got out of the showers. "I just never pegged you as the dice-and-minis type, Crash."
"Oh, that. Yeah, when I came for the next session, Discord said he was passing the reins back to Spike. Then he handed me something like a tax form and told me that was what he'd been using for my character. Pinkie was on board, but I wasn't." Dash gagged. "Nopony said O&O would have math."
For some reason, that got several laughs.
"Playing O&O with Discord." Misty Fly shuddered. "Not sure if that sounds incredible or horrifying."
"Yes," said Surprise from her locker. After one critical drop of water dripped out of her blonde mane, it went from wet and straight to poofy and dry in an instant. Once again, Dash made a mental note to check some family trees the next time she got a chance. "So you finally found a new campaign, Dizzy?"
Misty sighed, pale yellow wings drooping. Dash kept going to her locker. "For however long this one lasts, yeah."
"You could just join my group."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Slowpoke. I only want to worry about one mini, not a hundred of them."
"Only eighty-five," Surprise said with a laugh.
Dash looked back over, her ears having stayed pointed at the conversation. "Wait, what are you playing?"
Surprise tilted her muzzle up, puffing out her chest with pride. "Battalion, the granddaddy of tabletop games. Part of our proud military tradition."
"It is?"
Misty nodded. "Generals have been positioning figurines on maps for centuries, but the first real tabletop game started with the Equestrian Navy."
Dash furrowed her brow. "We have a navy?"
That got everypony in the locker room snickering. She looked around frantically, wings rising in panic. "I-I mean, of course we have a navy! I used to—"
"Crash, Crash." A soft touch on her withers made her look up to see Blaze hovering over her with an understanding smile. "Fold your wings, it's cool. We're not laughing at you."
"We're laughing at the navy," added Surprise.
Misty smirked. "It's been underfunded and understaffed for so long, 'We have a navy?' is a fair question."
"These days, it mostly exists to maintain floating museums and play the Royal Guard in hoofball." Blaze jabbed a forehoof at the other mares. "And play wargames with these nerds."
"Proud of it, Spitfaker," said Misty, sticking her tongue out at the captain's near lookalike.
Dash blinked, trying to process the new information. "Tabletop games are for nerds?"
The others were silent for a few moments, trading thoughtful looks. Surprise's smile returned first. "Also military brats like me. You know the term 'hit point'?"
"Sure."
"That originally meant how many fourteen-inch cannonballs a ship could get hit by before it sank."
"Strictly speaking," said Misty, "every pony in Equestria has one hit point."
"Except maybe the princesses," Surprise noted.
"Oh no." Blaze landed between them, "You two are not having that debate again. Not where the captain can hear you, anyway."
"Huh." After another moment of thought, Dash nodded as her decision crystallized. "Where can I play this?"
Surprise grimaced. "You mean my group or the original original game? Because I'm pretty sure the captain can't get you into a naval officers' club."
"Hey, I've been on a ship," Dash said with a stomp. "An airship, even. With harpy pirates!"
Blaze cleared her throat. "If you do end up in an officers' club, maybe don't bring up performing piracy."
"It was against the Storm King! Twilight wrote us all letters of malarkey when we got back!"
"You mean letters of—"
Misty raised a wing, cutting off Blaze. "No, no, that sounds about right."
"Still, it's not like the rules are confidential or anything," said Surprise. "See if your Oubliette Overseer can get his hooves on them."
"Claws, actually."
Misty blinked. "Uh—"
Blaze shook her head. "Don't question it. It's Crash."
"But yeah," said Dash, "good idea."
Spike just stared at Dash for a moment. "Huh."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing," he said, shelving the book he'd been holding when she'd found him in one of Namepending Castle's many libraries. "It's just... Well, I guess if any of you would be interested in old-school wargames, it'd be you or Twilight. I just never really thought about you girls and tactical combat at the same time."
"We get in plenty of fights!" Dash cried, jumping into a hover.
He nodded, not even looking away from the reshelving. "Yeah, and 'fire rainbows at it until it goes away' isn't really a tactic."
"Yeah?" She loomed over Spike, eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"
He gave her a flat look honed by years of living with Twilight. "You literally asked me, remember?"
Any heat under Dash's cheeks was purely from exertion. She pulled back and cleared her throat. "So, uh, what do you actually know?"
Spike shrugged. "Not as much as the stallion who taught me everything I know about being a game master. And these sorts of games are his specialty."
"Huh. Any chance you can introduce me?"
That got a fanged grin as Spike slid the last loose book into place. "Don't need to. You already know him."
GemCon was the most Shining Armor thing Dash had ever seen. Military reenactors rubbed withers with tabletop gamers and comic book collectors in the Crystal Empire's repurposed Equestria Games stadium, surrounded by booths for the paraphernalia for all three hobbies and more. Had things gone differently, the resulting blend of nerdery might well have consumed Dash herself in her formative years. As it was, old flight school reflexes had her looking out for any bullies who might stuff the entire convention into a locker.
Of course, anypony who tried to stuff the Emperor-General of the Crystal Guard—not that Shining ever used his full official title—would have needed a big locker and a lot of backup. He strode through the convention with the same confidence as Spitfire going around Wonderbolts HQ, but with none of the drill sergeant hostility.
"Put down those dice, soldier," Shining said as they passed one table. "That attack bypasses invulnerable saves."
The stallion dutifully set them down and saluted. "Yes, Captain."
Okay, very little of it.
"Thanks again for showing me around," said Dash.
Shining went from military discipline to Twilight's-brother-level dorky grin like he'd flipped a switch. "Thanks for coming! Spike told me about the O&O session that you and Pinkie sat in on." He furrowed his brow. "Still not sure how I feel about my little brother gaming with the Lord of Chaos, but I'm glad you're all having fun."
Dash had to shrug her wings. "Yeah, but that one's not as fun when it's just paper and dice."
That got a nod. "Theater of the Mind isn't for everypony." Shining pointed towards an empty table. "But I do think we have something more your speed."
Dash snorted. "If it takes more than a few minutes to play, I don't think it's my speed."
"You can play as a Wonderbolt squadron."
That got her to perk up. "I'm listening."
The game, Thunder of Hooves, was based on some war that hadn't gotten covered during the Wonderbolts' entrance exam, back when Equestria still had fights too big for a small band of heroes to fix on their own and the Guard had to do a lot more guarding, the 'Bolts included. In the story of the game, a similar fight broke out in the modern day, giving the designers an excuse to work with modern militaries. Dash could immediately tell it had been made by unicorns. Rolling dice was awkward but doable with hooves, but here there were all kinds of fiddly miniatures and rulers held at angles that were uncomfortable without telekinesis, if not borderline impossible. Surprise probably pulled it off with her Pinkie-level flexibility, but Dash's wings didn't bend that way.
Still, it was a form of Wonderbolts merch that she'd never heard about and didn't have, and being on the roster had done nothing to dampen her urge to collect as much of it as she could. And she was more than willing to give the game a fair shake along the way.
"Aw, come on!"
The game, however, didn't seem willing to return the favor.
"You're the one who flew directly in range of my anti-air cannoli cannonade," Shining said in the exact same lecturing tone his sister used when trying to explain something to Dash.
It wasn't any less irritating coming from somepony else. "Yeah, but I should be able to dodge it. Obstacle avoidance is first-day stuff. And how come the Wonderbolts are so slow?"
"They have some of the best movement in the game."
Dash scowled and tapped a ruler with a hoof. "I'm literally inching along."
Shining quirked an eyebrow. "It's a small battlefield. Did you expect to go from one end of the convention center to the other in one round?"
"Hey, have you ever flown at supersonic speeds?"
"No, and neither have any of your units."
Dash waved that off. "I'm working on it with them."
Shining furrowed his brow at that. As he opened his mouth, a Crystal Guard approached with that funny gait every guard seemed to have, trying to get somewhere as quickly as possible without making any civilians worry about the galloping pony in armor. "Sir," he said once he was close enough that he wouldn't have to shout, "the Minoan delegate has arrived."
That got a grimace. "Duty calls. Enjoy the convention, Rainbow Dash."
"What was that about?" Dash said as she watched him go.
She had to stop herself from jumping in surprise when the guard answered her rhetorical question. "Last year, the Minoan ambassador dove into a boffer fight with a real greataxe. His Highness and King Angus the White agreed to giving the ambassador an escort at future GemCons rather than banning him from them. Especially since everyone involved had such a good time."
"Oh." Dash wasn't sure what boffers were, but she could guess that they were less dangerous than a minotaur-made and -wielded axe. "Uh, need any help? Twilight hasn't done much with the minotaurs, but I'm used to keeping an eye on diplomats."
"His Highness has matters well in hoof, miss." Dash spoke On Duty well enough to pick up the subtle rise in the guard's voice that spoke of his genuine gratitude. "We know what to expect from Ambassador Great Fortitude."
"I get it," Dash said with a nod. She'd also heard Twilight enough times to know when somecreature was using enough diplomatic phrasing to get a side-eye from Applejack. She gestured towards the table and the fight still in progress. "You want to pick up where your boss left off?"
"Apologies, miss, but I'm on duty as convention staff." The guard hesitated for a moment as he took in the battlefield. "Moreover, you don't appear to be in an advantageous position."
Dash sighed. "Yeah. Feels bad, but I should take the forfeit."
"Or you could fight a real army."
That got her to look up to see a forest-green changeling approach, a black carrying case held in his magic. He wasn't scowling so much as locked in the same resting grump face as Gilda. After a moment, she placed where she'd seen that grump face on several photos. "Oh! You're Thorax's brother, right?"
"His clutchmate, yes. Pharynx." They exchanged a hoofbump. He didn't smile, but his glare did soften slightly. "Ocellus speaks highly of your conditioning courses. Though I still think they could use more live combat exercises, especially given the available variety of opponents."
Dash gave him a flat look. "I'm not gonna teach creatures how to beat each other up during loyalty classes."
Pharynx flicked his wings. Dash recognized the dismissal from Ocellus's usual reaction to half of the things that came out of Gallus's beak. "Eh. Not my hive, not my drones. Do you at least want to play this ridiculous game?"
"The ridiculous game where you've got your minis ready to go?" Dash said with a grin.
Indeed, Pharynx had already swept Shining's guardsponies aside, opened the case, and was putting out jagged black figurines. His expression hadn't shifted an inch. "I may have been a consultant for the latest edition of the changeling army. Only because the previous versions were hopelessly inaccurate. It's no wonder we almost took Canterlot."
Dash said nothing about how they didn't; that was just bad sportsponyship. Still, she had to respond to that somehow. "But you wouldn't now, right?"
"Now that we have more options for hiding in plain sight, we..." Pharynx blinked and looked up from his building formation. "Oh, wouldn't. Yeah, Thorax doesn't have the proventriculus for it. And your purple queen-in-training's built up enough allies that I don't even want to think about the retaliatory strike." He shook his head and turned back to his army. "I told him making the hive's location public knowledge was a mistake."
Dash took a moment to process that, realized she didn't know how, and pushed forward regardless. "How about we just play?"
The chitin gave Pharynx's frustrated snort an almost musical quality. "Fine by me. I thought you ponies liked small talk."
The match against Pharynx was definitely more interesting. The changeling swarm didn't have anti-air fire, but it did have way more fliers of its own, making up for lower individual punch through sheer numbers.
And then he started actually using the shapeshifting, swapping out some models for others as the fight developed, making things way more complicated.
Dash noticed a crack in his focused expression, a glance up at her as she passed the turn. "What?"
Pharynx narrowed his eyes before gesturing to one side of the field. "I left my right flank exposed on that last maneuver. You could have easily exploited it but didn't. Now I'm wondering what you have planned."
"Oh, that." Dash tapped the figurine that could have best made use of the opening on its sculpted orange mane. "Spitfire hates snakes. She'd never get close enough to that thing to hit it."
That got a blink as Pharynx considered the weird, half-upright cobra-thing with minotaur arms that he'd swapped in for one of his elites. Eventually, he said, "I see."
The crowd that had gathered around their table murmured in kind.
The fight went back and forth for a few more turns, both sides facing attrition as Pharynx unveiled several more surreal horrors. And then he reached for one of Dash's units without ever attacking it.
She warded his hoof off with a wing. "Hey, what's the big idea?"
Pharynx telekinetically held up another unit from his reserves. One that, weirdly enough, had a tiny little ski mask and knife. "Infiltrator."
"What?" Dash swept her forehooves across the table. "High Winds has taken out four of your guys!"
"A very dedicated infiltrator," Pharynx said as he swapped the pieces.
"Come on, Hoof-in-Mouth can't act her way out of a paper bag!"
That coaxed out the biggest reaction Dash had seen from Pharynx all day, a grin just asking for a punch. "Good thing it was never her, huh?"
Dash crossed her forelegs and huffed out, "This is dumb."
"Stop scowling; I can only do it once per match, and it costs a lot of reinforcements." Pharynx tipped over three of his undeployed minis and gave the barest hint of a nod. "You're making me pull out all the stops. More than I can say for most of the hive."
Experience with Spitfire let Dash recognize how much praise Pharynx had slipped into his grumbling. That was enough for her to nod back and continue the fight, at least until drones tried to spit her last wing of Wonderbolts out of the sky.
"That's not going to work," Dash said with a frown.
"I rolled all sixes," countered Pharynx. "They're grounded and taking fall damage."
"That's bull pucky!"
That got a genuine frown beyond Pharynx's usual sourness. "You've been captured by adhesive spittle. Multiple times."
"Yeah, but I wasn't ever wearing a Wonderbolts uniform!"
He waved that off. "We took them down as easily as anypony else!"
"And they weren't in uniform at the wedding either!" Dash shouted.
"Why should that matter?"
"There's a special enchantment built into the fabric." The crowd pulled back to give Dash room to pace and make expansive wing gestures. "It reduces air resistance, but it also makes everything under the sun slide off. You can't even stain that stuff, much less glue ponies down!"
Pharynx jabbed a hoof at the minis. "Your uniform doesn't cover the wings. The point is to gum up their feathers!"
Dash took to the air, the better to yell closer to his muzzle. "It projects over the wings!"
He joined her above the table. "It's still not in your stat block!"
"The stat block is wrong, and I have the documents to prove it!"
"First Airmare Rainbow Miriam Dash."
Dash froze, barely catching herself before she body slammed the table. She turned to see a thoroughly displeased Spitfire glaring at her over her aviator shades. "C-Captain?"
"'Miriam'?" echoed Pharynx.
"Shut up," said Dash, barely sparing him enough attention to do so before turning back to Spitfire. "What are you doing here?"
As terror-induced tunnel vision began to pull back, Dash noticed something the rough size and shape of a body pillow slung across Spitfire's back before the captain tossed it into the crowd. "Not your concern, Crash. We need to have a long and very loud talk."
And Dash's perspective pulled back further as she took in the composition of the crowd, including a good number of pressponies, foreign dignitaries, and creatures wearing at least five medals each. "Feathers."
"Go back to the fight!" bellowed one minotaur, waving what was hopefully a foam battleaxe.
Many saw the process of going from Wonderbolts Academy to a full position on the roster as needlessly convoluted, especially when they were a few steps into that process and realized just how many more were left. But that long and winding road had been made that way for a reason. Even naturally talented fliers needed conditioning and training to meet Wonderbolt standards, and even the greatest prodigies of the air needed their minds honed as well as their bodies.
And not all of the subjects they studied directly related to performances.
The mare trotting to the front of the Firefly Mesa lecture hall definitely didn't look like Wonderbolt material. While hardly out of shape, she was a far cry from the state of active squad members. None of the expected muscle definition could be seen under her white coat, not was her black mane in the permanently blown-back style that countless practice runs imposed on the team. Several trainees tried to figure out how her cutie mark, a rag polishing a bronze statue of a pegasus, factored into why she was here even as her red eyes swept across the class
"Good morning, cadets," she said, "and welcome to Media Relations 101. My name is Publicity Stunt, and I am the Wonderbolts' chief publicist. I assume you're all here because you dream of flying with the elite, of being recognized as the best of the best, of performing at the pinnacle of aerobatic prowess." She paused. A few of the recruits hazarded nods, getting a grin in return. "You're welcome for that dream.
"I don't mean to marginalize the efforts of the team itself. My team and I couldn't do what we do if they didn't give us quality material to work with. But we are responsible not just for emphasizing the prowess of the Wonderbolts, but also quietly burying their more embarrassing moments. And this course is all about how to help you help us, by letting us spend less time burying and thus more time promoting.
"Much like the maintenance staff here at the Mesa, we have to clean up after you, and we appreciate it when you don't needlessly add to our workload. We also have the ability to disavow your actions and leave you to the hungry timberwolves in the press corps. As a Wonderbolt, you are at once a professional athlete, a military special operative, and depending on your rank, a minor to major celebrity. Make no mistake, the eyes of Equestria are on you at all times, and we can either keep you looking good or give up the lost cause to focus on those who we can actually help.
"Public Relations is your friend, fillies and gentlecolts, and friendships need work from both sides to maintain. And while I would normally open our class with some basic dos and don'ts, today is a special occasion. We added a new don't to the list just this week, and the mare responsible for it will help me explain it to all of you.
"Who here has heard 'Every safety rule is written in blood'?" Pub nodded as she saw a good number of hooves rise. "Well, we have something similar. Every media interaction rule is written in tabloid ink. Not as catchy, but it's the same point. I say this ahead of time because some of you, hopefully most of you, will think our newest rule is so mind-bogglingly obvious that you'll wonder how whoever got it written can fly and breathe at the same time." She looked to one of the lecture hall's side doors. "Rainbow Dash, that's your cue."
Dash trudged in, ears folded, wings drooping, and neck adorned with a sign that read "Blabbermouth."
Pub let the recruits' shock sink in for a few moments before continuing. "Now, Rainbow Dash, can you summarize the discussion we had with the captain earlier this week?"
That got a sigh and the rote recital of the same thing Dash had had to say after every lap she'd had to fly for the last two days. "'Confidential' does not mean 'only tell people if it means I win an argument.'"
"Very good," Pub said with a nod. "Write that down, everypony."
And, Rainbow Dash included, every single one of them did.
Author's Note
For those unfamiliar with War Thunder, it's a combat game that uses actual military vehicles... and there's an unfortunate tendency for people to leak classified information on its forums to support arguments to buff their favorite tank/plane/ship.
For those familiar with War Thunder, you probably knew where this story was going just from the cover image. 
Great Fortitude, one of Iron Will's brothers along with Lightning Reflexes, is a recurring minotaur OC of mine, as is their father, Angus the White. Yes, I headcanon Iron Will as a prodigal prince. See "Justifying the Maze's Means" for more on the family dynamic.
The proventriculus is basically an insect's gizzard, breaking down food for easier absorption in the mid- and hindgut. Why a love-eating species would need what amounts to an organic geode made of teeth is a question left to the reader.
And Publicity Stunt is another recurring OC of mine, first seen in Team Cohesion.
This is admittedly a sketchy entry into the Dumb as Doornails contest, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading.
