ECRL: The Wonderhawks

Chapters

The Immediate Rivals
Harder than it Looks
Making it Look Easy
Welcome to Ponyville
Lets Get Started
Cooking for Idiots
Introducing The Wonderhawks
The Season Opening Ball
ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Practice
ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Qualifying
ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Build Up
ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Race
Reflecting on a Job Done
Apparently Electricity Hurts
On the Rails Again
Rolling into Town
ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Practice
ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Qualifying
ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Build Up
ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Race
So, what have we Learned?
Late Night Research
A Morning Interval
On the Rails 3: Rail Harder
The somewhat more functional Towers
ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Practice
ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Qualifying
ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Build up
ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Race
Do not trust with Media
It's just a minor obsession
On the Rails: Reloaded
ECRL Round 4: Dodge Junction - Practice
ECRL Round 4: Dodge Junction - Qualifying
Recruitment
Plenty of Practice
Good Thing it’s only Practice

The Immediate Rivals

Rainbow flew over the snowy airport again, looking for the right hanger. Quite a few of the wealthier Canterlot ponies owned Airships, Powered Gliders and Hot Air Balloons and they needed to keep them somewhere, but it still surprised Rainbow Dash how many and how big the hangers actually were.

Rainbow raked her brains over who her other team-mates might be, pulling her hat on further and tightening her scarf, as well as this potential other team. To Dash, the Wonderbolts had no rivals, so why exactly they’d work together with another team completely evaded her. Besides the amateur teams such as the Dodge Junction Hornets and the Cleveland Bays, the only team Dash could think of was the now zombie like Red Hawks, who she knew Spitfire had flown for early in her career.

The falling snow was making it more difficult to make out the hanger numbers from this height, especially with the lights reflecting off the snow as the sun hadn't come up fully yet, so she flew in lower and started flying between the hangers, keeping her eyes open for the right number. It wasn't long before she stopped in surprise when she noticed a familiar trail fading away in front of her.

Dash followed the lightning streaked trail between the hangers before she happened upon Lightning Dust, who seemed to be in the same position as herself, as well as wearing a similar hat and scarf.

“Why aren't these things in freaking order?” Lightning Dust muttered to herself as she looked at Hanger 10 which was opposite Hanger 17, not aware of Rainbow Dash standing behind her.

Rainbow couldn't ask for a more perfect opportunity, so she quickly jumped up onto the hanger Lightning Dust had just turned away from and quickly gave the snow at the edge of the roof a kick, causing it to fall onto Lightning Dust who yelped in surprise.

Rainbow Dash rolled around laughing on the roof as Dust dug herself out, cursing loudly at the weather.

“What’s going on?” Came a new voice with a very distinct accent. Rainbow leaned over the roof top to see a grey Pegasus stallion with deep green mane, tail and goatee beard suddenly appear out of the still falling snow. For whatever reason, he wasn't wearing anything yet he didn't seem fazed by the cold.

Dust poked her head out of the pile of snow she was under, looking up to see where it had fallen from and noticed Rainbow.

“Rainbow Dash!” She ejaculated furiously at the still giggling Dash, shaking her hoof.

“Hi Lightning Dust.” Rainbow waved back.

“Get down here.” The Pegasus said simply to Rainbow. She realised his accent was from the Highlands to the North East and his tone seemed to encourage but not quite demand respect.

Rainbow did as she was told, landing next to Dust as she finished shaking off the snow. The Highland Pegasus regarded them for a moment.

“So you’re Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust, eh? Let’s hope your flying is better than your time keeping.” He said simply, prompting Dash to check her watch. She hadn't realized she was nearly half an hour late.

“Who are you?” Dash inquired.

“My name’s Hurricane, I lead the Red Hawks and we’ve been waiting for you lass’ to show up.” He said, inspecting the two mares “Now let’s go before you two freeze.” Hurricane added before turning and walking away.

So it was the Red Hawks, Rainbow thought. A team as good as dead for years that had suddenly sprung back to life a year ago when the Wonderbolts had to cancel a performance in some distant town she had never heard of.

Rainbow Dash put the thought of out her head as she and Lightning Dust followed Hurricane past four hangers, numbered 7, 2, 19 and 12 for reasons neither could work out. Dust was avoiding looking directly at Dash, likely as she hadn't forgiven her for what happened at the academy.

Dash had to admit she wasn't surprised Dust was here, presuming the gold maned mare was going to be her team mate. Even if she was able to match her for speed, she was likely to find herself embedded in a wall well before challenging Dash.

Eventually, they arrived at the right hanger, the number of which was obscured behind a large mound of snow that appeared to have been pushed off the air strip itself. Even before the door was opened and over the wind, Rainbow Dash could hear what sounded like some pony playing on an out of tune guitar.

Hurricane opened the door to the hanger and her suspicions about the guitar were confirmed, before the familiar voice of Spitfire shouted over it.

“Knock that racket off!” She shouted at whoever was playing.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Came another voice. His accent was distinctive as well but definitely different to Hurricane’s. “Sweet Celestia, I was just trying to amuse myself.”

“Well you can do whatever you like apart from play that damn guitar.” Spit replied, sounding annoyed.

“I could work on my stand-up comedy routine.” The stallion replied, jokingly.

“If you do then it’ll be with your head stuck in the ground.”

“That could be my gimmick! Concorde: Upside-down Comic!”

“Knock it on the head, Corde. They’re here.” Hurricane said to the still out of view pony.

“Son of a gun, so they’re not figments of your imagination.”

The white body and scarlet mane and tail of a similarly aged Pegasus to Rainbow Dash jump off the top of an upturned Airship Gondola that seemed to be midway through being repaired and trotted over to them.

“How you doing? I'm Concorde.” He smiled, offering his hoof. Rainbow shuck it first.

“Rainbow Dash.” She grinned.

“Lightning Dust.” Dust added, shaking his hoof after Dash.

“You get lost among these hangers as well? It’s like some sort of deranged maze out there.”

“Yeah. I don’t know who numbered these things but I doubt they went to school.” Dash remarked, taking off her hat.

“Aye, didn't help some idiot bulldozed a load a snow up against some of the numbers. Took me about ten minutes to find the place.”

Rainbow really couldn't help but be amused by how Concorde spoke, as if he couldn't be bothered to fully pronounce some of his words. She still couldn't place exactly where his accent was from but she assumed it was somewhere near the Highlands.

“Rainbow Dash, Lightning Dust, front and centre!” Spitfire suddenly commanded and the two mares did so straight away, standing to attention and saluted.

“You don’t want me to start doing that as well, do you?” Concorde asked Hurricane.

“No.” He replied simply.

“Aww, I'm disappointed now.” Concorde replied with mock disappointment.

“Be quiet.” Spitfire said simply to Concorde before returning to the mares. “He may have already told you, but this is Hurricane.” She continued, indicating to the grey stallion. “He’s the leader of the Red Hawks.”

“He did introduce himself, Ma’am.” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Can I ask a question, Ma’am?” Dust added.

“Spit, Dust. And yes.”

“Why are we having a meeting with the Red Hawks? They’re old news.”

Spitfire regarded Dust with an annoyed look. Hurricane’s expression was neutral while Concorde seemed to be watching the older stallion as if looking forwards to what he was going to say.

“Last I checked, Lightning Dust,” Spitfire said slowly. “they were performing regularly which means they aren't ‘old news’. You may not have been reading the media recently, but the Wonderbolts aren't as highly regarded as they used to be.

“What makes you say that?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“I’ll let you read the papers and find out, Dash. For now all you need to know is we’re trying to improve our image and we’re working with the Red Hawks to make our presence known in the league. You two are among the best flyers to go through the Wonderbolts Academy while Concorde’s one of the most talented racers Echo’s ever seen, so first of all I want to see how you stack up against each other. You see that?”

Rainbow looked over into the far side of the hanger. The largely empty hanger had a small circuit built of clouds inside, complete with a small loop-de-loop, wide sweeping corners and a few small, twisty corners.

A balloon floated alongside the long straight, a blue unicorn with ginger hair sat inside the basket who waved back.

“I thought you forgot about me for a moment!” the female unicorn shouted back.

“All three of you are to do one hundred laps. Fly up and wait by the balloon until Maffett instructed to start.”

Harder than it Looks

Rainbow Dash, Lightning Dust and Concorde did as Spitfire said, flying up to and standing on the clouds next to the balloon. The unicorn in the balloon waved as they landed.

“You two took your time.” She said, her accent similar to Concorde’s.

“Let’s hope they don’t get lost around this.” Concorde chuckled, winking at Maffett. “That’s Maffett, by the way.” He added.

“Hi!” Rainbow Dash smiled before turning to look at the track.

“Keep your eye on her, she’s a tricky one.” Concorde added.

“Only for your, Corde.” Maffett smiled, arranging what looked like several flags in the basket.

“Aww, you’re making me blush now.”

“That’s just because there’s no room in your brain for the blood.” Maffett smiled.

“Think I should resort to slitting my legs to let some of it out?”

“Well, I won’t stop you and I won’t clean up either.”

Dash ignored their weird banter and focused on the track. The first two corners were wide and fast right hand corners, leading into a series of tight corners that came up one after the other in quick succession. They in turn led into the small loop-de-loop, which was followed by a hairpin that brought them back onto the straight they were stood on.

Simple enough, she thought. One hundred laps and she’d show up this stallion who couldn’t pronounce his words and show Spitfire the full breadth of her talents. Her spot on the Wonderbolts team was assured.

“You guys ready?” Maffett asked, levitating the Equestrian flag up so the three could see it.

“Let’s do this!” The three said in unison, each quickly stretching their wing and legs before getting on their marks.

Dash and Dust pressed their front hooves into the cloud track surface and raised their wings, waiting for Maffett to raise the flag. She did so and in unison, both Dash and Dust started flapping their wings in short, sharp beats, raising their hinds off the ground while using their front hooves to stop themselves hurtling forwards.

Maffett held the flag up right for a good three seconds before waving it down, signalling the Pegasi to start. Dash and Dust pulled themselves forwards with their front hooves, giving themselves a quick bit of acceleration before their wings fully took control and sped them forwards.

For a split second, Dash pictured Spitfire’s awe struck face, before she noticed something that nearly made her stop dead in surprise. Concorde had made a far better start and he was getting away from her and Dust at a huge amount of speed. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but she did notice his wing flaps were different to what she had seen most Pegasus do. They were long, deliberate flaps as each slow movement forwards was quickly followed by a sharp flap backwards from front to back at a slight downward angle, rather than straight up and down. Generating so little lift like that, she was amazed he was even airborne.

Dash cut her thoughts short when she realize that the first turn was right in front of her. Concorde was already fully banked over, wings stretched out to glide through the corner. She was neck and neck with Dust, so the pair tilted into the corner, straightening up on the exit. Concorde had already exited the second corner, so both mares flapped furiously to try and make up for what was clearly a bad start in the racing world.

Their attempts led them both to not only miss the apex of the second corner by several meters, but very nearly led both to meet the hanger wall. Rainbow Dash was on the outside and closest to the wall, so she quickly brought herself to a stop so she didn’t hit it. She looked over at the track as Lightning Dust got back onto it to see Concorde rapidly tilting and rolling left and right to navigate the series of tight corners.

His form was almost bullet like, pressed together and stretched out so his body met as little resistance as possible, bending with the corners while his wings seemed to do little real work as they angled and occasionally flapped to propel and glide through each turn.

Dash returned to the track, focusing on the apex of the first corner of the sequence. Starting from the outside edge of the corner, she turned in and the tip of her inside wing perfectly glanced the apex, but almost immediately she realized something was wrong as she drifted far too wide to stand a chance of worrying the next apex.

She decided to just ignore the corner and turned to try and take the next one, noticing that Lightning Dust was struggling with the corners as much as she was. Dust had just missed the apex for the last corner in the sequence and was about to re-join the track a quarter of the way into the loop-de-loop. Out of the corner of her eye, Dash noticed something scarlet hurtle past her in the opposite direction over the start/finish line and her heart sunk.

This was going to be a very long one hundred laps.

***

Spitfire and Hurricane watched the three young Pegasus lap the circuit. Concorde was consistently hitting each apex, gradually getting quicker each lap as he got used to the course while Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust seemed to have descended to swearing at each corner when they missed it. Their wide, looping style of cornering was ideal for flashy performance flying, but on a race track it only served to hinder them.

“So this is the best the Wonderbolts Academy has produced?” Hurricane asked.

“Completely out of their comfort zone, but yes.” Spit replied.

“What were you thinking, mare?” He asked as Rainbow Dash missed the apex of the hairpin by some distance after taking the loop too fast.

“I was thinking their competitive streak might just encourage them to improve.” Spit smiled as Concorde lapped Lightning Dust for the third time. “Racing does requite precise movement and an ability to judge where another pony’s going.”

“Well it’s getting them angry at the very least” Hurricane replied as Lightning Dust explosively swore at the sight of Concorde going past her again.

“Besides, with them still officially being Wonderbolts, it means I can keep them out of your hooves.”

Hurricane sighed. He would have killed for that level of talent in his team. Not that any of his team were incapable, but ponies like that would have really made an impression.

“I’m still struggling to understand how this charade will help the Hawks, or even you for that matter.” He said after a while.

“Well, it’s simple. Or it is in my head, anyway.” Spit said as Rainbow Dash missed the second corner again. “Since Money Bags has been in charge, we’ve been slowly turned into an easily marketed mess. I need to get control of my team back, not to mention some flyers with genuine skill.”

“It does seem that you, Echo and Soarin’ are the most competent flyers in the Wonderbolts while the others are there to smile and look good.”

“Yeah and they can’t do anything! You know that ‘Fire Aurora’ move I told you about? They refused to do it because it might ruin their freaking manes! If I can get control back, I can get competent flyers in my lead team again.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking.” Hurricane remarked as Dash and Dust very nearly flew into each other after the former missed out the loop.

“You know too well this sort of thing takes time, Hurri. Besides, I’ll finally have some decent competition with you guys back on the scene.” She added with a wink. “You enjoying the show, Echo?” Spitfire called over her shoulder.

Echo had been sat out of the way, scribbling notes furiously. It seemed she was nearly the end of her note pad already.

“This might take a lot of work.” She said after a while as she observed how the three Pegasus on track took the loop, Dust nearly running into the back of Concorde as he slowed to take the following hairpin. “There’s promise, if not much consistency at the moment.”

“Is Fleetfoot the best pony to manage our team?” Hurricane asked over more explosive swearing.

“She is my number two for a reason, you know.” Spit replied.

“Who else is involved?”

“Well, there’s you, me, Echo, those three, Maffett and when they reply to my letters I have a pair of professional spotters to help Dash and Dust. You sure you don’t want me to find a spotter for Concorde too?”

“No, no. He and Maffett work well together when they aren’t bickering.”

Spitfire chuckled as she checked her watch. By her estimates Concorde had completed seventy two laps while Dash and Dust were about four laps behind at this point. She continued watching them, happy in the knowledge this humiliation will spur them on for when they do get to their first race.

Making it Look Easy

As fit as Rainbow Dash was, struggling to stay on a track while maintaining some form of speed was tiring even for her. She’d long since lost track of how many laps she had done, were left or even where she was in relation to Lightning Dust and was simply praying to Celestia for this torment to finish.

Several times, she had attempted to follow Concorde in order to see what in Equestria he was doing to make him so much faster, but each time she ended up missing the next corner and losing track of him.

Even maintaining enough speed to do the loop had become difficult as the laps wore on and she had intentionally missed it a couple of times in order to maintain what strength she had left.

Thankfully, almost mercifully as she rounded the hairpin after nearly failing the loop again, she saw that Maffett was waving a chequered flag, signally the end of this humiliation. Dash allowed herself to glide over the line, where she flopped down onto her hind and sat still, breathing heavily as the sweat poured and sleeked her body fur.

Lightning Dust soon joined her, puffing and panting and sweating to the same degree without either of them noticing Concorde wasn't there. He was busy allowing himself to glide around for one more lap in order to cool down more gradually. By the time he had completed that lap, the mares seemed confident enough to trust their legs to hold up their weight.

“How was that for you?” He asked as he landed between them, a grin on his face. While breathing slightly heavier than normal, he didn't look like he had exerted himself much, which made Dash and Dust even more annoyed.

Dash had an almost overwhelming urge to tell him where to stick it, but she opted get her breath back fully first before berating him. Dust, for all their similarities, didn't share her restraint.

“What sort of freak are you? How did you fly that fast?!” She demanded between breaths. Concorde looked as if he was about to answer when Spitfire, Hurricane and Echo landed on the clouds in front of them.

Dash and Dust quickly jumped to attention, looking slightly surprised Echo was there as they hadn't noticed her earlier. Concorde simply stood back.

Spitfire paced up and down in front of the two mares, glancing at them from time to time with a look of disappointment in her eyes. She eventually stopped and looked at the pair of them.

“Ninty three laps.” She stated. “I did tell you to do one hundred but it didn't look like either of you would make it.”

“I can do a hundred laps!” Dust exclaimed, standing as if ready to go.

“Lightning Dust, I could send you on a thousand laps and you still wouldn't get any better!” Spit exclaimed back, scaring Dust back into line. Hurricane kept a straight face while Concorde looked like he was resisting the urge to laugh.

Spit waited a moment before carrying on.

“I rated you both as the best of your training group while you were at the academy and while I don’t think my faith was misplaced, it’s clear you both still have a lot to learn about precision flying.”

“Er, Ma’am.” Dust cut in again, this time with her hoof up as if she was in class. Spit sighed and looked at her, awaiting her question. “What’s flying in a circle got to do with precision flying?”

Spit looked at Dust for a moment before looking over to Echo, who stepped forwards.

“Flying precisely in close formation is vital to good performance flying.” She said. “When you two flew in a formation made up of more than two or in a position that wasn't at the head of the formation, we noticed you both struggle to remain in position.

“I had exactly the same problem when I was in the Academy, so I decided to go to a place where precision flying was even more important, as was an ability to second guess what others around you would do, even if you couldn't see them.

“Concorde, you were able to maneuverer around both Dash and Dust when you lapped them.”

“Aye.” Concorde nodded. “Was easier to get around them then I expected.”

“Considering you were hardly in control, Lightning Dust,” Spitfire chipped in. “ I'm surprised you didn't fly into him.”

“Seeing as these two are building up to saying I'm mentoring you mares, I might as well say rule one is ‘speed isn't the be all and end all’.” Concorde injected.

“How does that work?” Dash found herself asking. “ Isn't speed everything in a race?”

“It is, but only if you’re in control of it. If you just go in guns blazing as you two were, you’ll be eating the barriers in no time.”

“Wasn't that phrase coined for you?” Maffett suddenly asked, causing Concorde to go quiet for a moment.

“Sort of, yeah.” He replied, looking away. Dash and Dust both laughed at his awkwardness.

“So the perfect racer loved to leave a few dents in the wall, eh?” Dust remarked.

Concorde shrugged in response. “We all make mistakes. It’s what you take away from them that’s important, really. I had to take my teeth to the dentist, though.”

“From the number of mistakes you made,” Spit came in, causing Dash and Dust to stand to attention again. “you’ll have a lot to take away. After Heath Warming, I'm moving you, Dust, to Ponyville, along with Concorde so the three of you can train together.”

“Is that really necessary, ma’am?” Dust asked.

“Yes, it is. The three of you will learn from each other and push yourselves as far as you can go. Maybe then you’ll appreciate when and where to push, Dust.” Spit added to Dust’s face, before stepping back and smiling warmly at the two mares. “Now, go and enjoy your holidays.”

***

Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust stepped out of the hanger into the now still night, wearing their hats and scarves. The freshly fallen snow had added at least two inches to what was already there and the pair could hear ploughs being pulled along the runways nearby.

Dust looked like she wanted to say something but was desperately holding it back. Dash was somewhat lost in thought, wondering exactly what she should be aiming for.

“For a first attempt, you weren't that bad.” Concorde remarked as he followed them out. He wore a deep red jacket with furry collar.

“What’s that meant to mean?” Dust shot at him.

“Exactly as it sounds. You’re both good in the air, but I’d hazard a guess that you’re more for hooning around then racing.”

“I like to race, just not in the way you do.” Dash commented. “How fast can you fly, anyway?” She added with a grin.

“Fast enough, I can break the sound barrier. Why?”

“See that mountain?” She asked, pointing at the silhouette in the distance.

“Aye.”

“There and back?”

Concorde regarded Rainbow Dash for a moment, rubbing his chin before pulling the cords around the neck of his jacket tight so it fit him snugly.

“Go on, then.” He smiled.

Without waiting for anyone to tell them to go, Dash shot towards the peak of the distant mountain. Within moments, Concorde had flown past her with his different method of flying, pulling over 10 pony lengths on Dash. She pushed hard, watching him change his wing flaps to a more familiar up and down pattern as his momentum seemed to taper.

Dash beat her wings harder, slowly wheeling Concorde in before, in unison, they both hit the sound barrier. The deafening boom propelled them both forwards, leaving pure scarlet and multi-coloured trails in the ponies’ wake.

Concorde’s speed soon seemed to reach a plateau, at around Mach 2 by Dash’s reckoning, as half way to the mountain; she drew level with him and went past. She smiled broadly, beating her wings occasionally to keep her momentum up as she altered her angle of attack to corner around the mountain peak.

She thought for a moment, considering how she had seen Concorde corner earlier and considered slowly down slightly, before casting the thought from her mind and turning. Her speed took her into a wide, looping turn, almost fifty feet away from the mountain. She looked towards it and saw Concorde turning, seemingly inches away from the mountain and now back in front.

Dash brought herself to a near complete halt, re-directed herself and beat her wings as hard as she could to get herself back up to speed. Concorde seemingly had dropped below supersonic speed as he broke the sound barrier again on his way back towards the air field, but Dash was still gaining on him.

Dash beat her wings with all her might, over taking Concorde again as the ploughs on the runway came into view. They were both going so fast that they’d have difficulty stopping, so Dash looked for runway with the most snow on it and aimed for it. It seemed two of the plows had just been dragged out onto that run way, so Dash aimed to land on one, angling her wings to scrub off speed and her body to land on the closest edge of the top of the plough.

Almost perfectly, she landed, her increased momentum taking the plough off the Earth pony pushing it and causing it to rapidly slide down the runway, hurling snow out of the way. Gradually, the plough came to a halt at the far end of the runway, leaving a perfectly clear section of runway behind her.

Dash brushed the snow off her hat and scarf as Concorde landed in a similar manner, the plough he was on sliding to a halt right next to her as two confused Earth ponies at the other end of the runway watched.

“That was f***ing awesome.” Concorde said to Dash when the plough he was on came to a halt, causing Dash to suddenly freeze in shock. After a moment, Concorde added: “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Really?”

“Well, in the docks in me home town, swearing’s practically punctuation and me granddad used to work there.” He shrugged. “But that was still impressive, I've never seen a Pegasus fly that fast.”

“Not bad for a hoon, huh?”

“Not bad in the slightest. I'm looking forwards to this even more now, Dashie.”

Welcome to Ponyville

Rainbow Dash’s capacity to keep secrets depended on a few details, the main one usually being if it was related to her idols the Wonderbolts or not.

Despite being told to keep her entry into the ECRL a secret, she had barely been around her friends for more than five minutes before she told them every single detail she knew. Unsurprisingly, Twilight had given her a mountain of books about the ECRL’s history while Fluttershy surprised everyone by revealing her father had taken her to the race in Cloudsdale a few times. Dash had been to the race too to see the Wonderbolts before tuning the race out, unless one of the local racers was winning.

The whole time, Rarity had been in some sort of trance that included an almost constant amazed gasping. When she snapped out of it, she practically demanded Dash allowed her to sponsor her so she could go to Maneaco. It seemed there was a famous fashion show there every year that coincided with the race.

All that was months ago now before Health’s Warming and Winter Wrap Up and now Rainbow Dash stood with Rarity and Applejack on a chilly train station platform in Ponyville, the former laid out on the sofa she seemingly took everywhere with her while the latter kept an eye on Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

Today was the day her team mates were arriving in Ponyville ahead of starting their training. Fleetfoot was accompanying Lightning Dust, Concorde and Maffett, along with two additional ponies who were apparently going to be her’s and Dust’s ‘spotters’

“Remind me, where are these ponys staying?” Applejack asked out of the blue.

“I thought I told you, or did all that cider get to you?” Dash replied, giving her friend a nudge and a cheeky grin.

“I might have asked when you were starting to fall over.” AJ smiled back before quickly glancing over at the fillys. They were asking questions of a couple of ponies in anoraks at the far end of the station. Rarity seemed to come out of whatever ‘fabulous trance’ she seemed to live in and noticed the fillys.

“Oh, there is no way any sister of mine is going to be a train spotter!” She suddenly exclaimed before going to retrieve Sweete Belle. Dash and AJ just laughed as Rarity went on about how horrible anoraks were.

“Come on sugar cube,” AJ continued, wiping a tear from her eye. “Where they staying?”

“The Old Windmill.” Dash replied. “Apparently Concorde’s sponsor bought the place.”

“Wow, that’s a mighty fine place. I was wondering if any pony would buy it out after it was re-done.”

“There it is!” Shouted one of the anorak ponies from down the station, drawing their attention. They could now see in the distance the familiar cloud created by a steam train heading towards them.

For a while, she had thought the train would be late but it seemed, judging by the speed of the cloud of steam approaching, the train was a heck of a lot faster than normal. It seemed to be exciting the anoraks as they leapt up and down and cheered gleefully. Applebloom and Scootaloo joined them, though kept exchanging confused glances.

Soon, the train pulled into the station in a huge cloud of smoke. The mighty blue, streamlined train didn’t have the usual cow catcher or enormous funnel, but the name ‘Mallard’ was written on a plaque on its side. The anoraks started pouring over the engine as Applebloom and Scootaloo glances excitedly at their flanks, their faces turning to disappointment before they joined Sweete Belle with their heads hung.

Rainbow Dash made her way down the platform as the anoraks rushed past to have a closer look at the Engine, looking for the right carriage, which was difficult with all the steam. She couldn’t quite see through the carriage windows and kept glancing down to platform to make sure she wasn’t going to bump into someone. Eventually though, she glanced up and noticed a familiar scarlet mane.

“Looking for someone?” Concorde smiled.

“Maybe. You haven’t seen a weird looking Pegasus with stupid hair, have you?” Rainbow asked sarcastically.

“Fleet’s over there.” Concorde smiled, not realising she was walking up behind him and heard. After a moment he realized she was there and smiled innocently at her.

“Corde, go and get the bags.” Fleetfoot said simply.

“On it, boss mare!” He saluted before disappearing into the smoke.

“Good to see you, Rainbow Dash.” Fleetfoot said, though a note of annoyance was in her voice as she turned to Applejack. “You must be the owner of the Sweet Apple Aches.”

“That’s right, ma’am.” Applejack smiled before shaking Fleetfoot’s hoof. Rainbow Dash had suggested AJ be allowed to sponsor the team as well in exchange for catering. The Apples had very coyly suggested the idea before Applebloom threw subtlety out of the window and begged Dash to let them and Fleet was annoyed Dash had so easily let knowledge of the team slip out, though it had least not travelled any further.

“Ah, finally! I hate being cooped up in trains.” Somepony exclaimed out of the smoke. The source soon appeared, revealing it was Lightning Dust. “Dash.”

“Dust.” Dash nodded. She didn’t like sitting around in train carriages either, but she could at least tolerate it with her friends.

“Before we go anywhere Dash, I have to introduce you to your spotter.” Fleet said, turning to look back down the platform as the last of the steam cleared away.

“My hooves, not my head!” Concorde was exclaiming at an open door, from where a suitcase came flying out and into his not quite ready hooves.

“Don’t worry Corde, that’s the last of them.” Maffett said, hoping off the train as Concorde put the suit case into the overly full cart next to him. She was followed out by two dark unicorns with moustaches who seemed to look the same from where Dash was standing.

“Ratchet, Spanner?” Fleet called over to the unicorns, who turned and walked over. For a moment, Dash thought she was going mad as both the unicorns looked completely identical.

“Ratchet, Spanner, this is Rainbow Dash.” Fleetfoot said, reassuring Dash that she wasn’t the only one seeing double.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” One of them said as he stepped forwards and offered his hoof. Dash shook it, though she wasn’t sure if he was Ratchet or Spanner.

“Ratchet will be your spotter.” Fleet added, again reassuring Dash. Ratchet’s moustache appeared to flare out slightly, so she made a mental note of the feature.

“Right, awesome to meet you too.” Dash grinned back, not one hundred percent sure what a spotter was though she at least had a vague idea. She hadn’t read the ECRL rules in any detail, but Twilight probably mentioned it about three times while Dash wasn’t paying attention as the unicorn did her usual research.

“Well, if we’re all here…” Fleet started, tailing off as she looked around. Maffett came trotting over with Concorde in slow pursuit as he fought to pull a cart full of suit cases, bags and a couple guitars.

“Don’t look surprised. This whinging mare wouldn’t have pulled it.” Concorde said, Maffett looking amused.

“But it’s always the big, strong stallion that carries the bags.” She smiled back, her voice dripping was sarcasm.

“Well I’d like to know where he is, it would save me the job.”

“You could have split that between a few carts.” Spanner commented, the huge pile of bags looking like it would fall over at any second.

“Couldn’t find anymore, it’s not exactly Princess’ Cross here.”

“I could solve that little problem for you.” Applejack injected.

***

Ten minutes later, the group made its way across Ponyville towards the old Windmill. Applejack had enlisted her brother Big Macintosh to pull the cart and the other ponies were amazed he could so easily pull it, not to mention keep it from bouncing about even on the uneven ground. Concorde still insisted on carrying his two guitars while the fillys had disappeared towards some other caper after AJ encouraged them away from the precarious pile of bags.

The Windmill was a freshly refurbished building with a small adjoined barn giving the whole building plenty of living space. The lights were naturally off as no pony had been in since it was bought by who turned out to be Concorde’s father.

“So what does he do?” Dash asked him as he rummaged around in one of his bags for the key.

“He’s an aeronautic engineer and runs Bristol Aerospace. If you’ve ever seen a powered glider around her, it’s likely one he made.”

“Where is Whitbay, by the way?” Rarity asked as the piles of bags lurched worryingly.

“About 50 miles north of Manehattan. It’s almost like the place is a secondary port for stuff that would take too long to get through the big apple.” Maffett replied.

“Ah ha!” Concorde suddenly remarked as he pulled the key from the bag.

“So what are you expecting, Corde?” Maffett randomly asked as he unlocked the door.

“No pony’s been here in ages, so empty.” He replied as he turned the handle.

He was immediately blasted off his hooves as the door exploded open in a cloud of confetti. A series of party horns blew as Pinkie Pie jumped out of the door, her front hooves in the air and a party hat on her head.

“Welcome wagon!” She practically screamed at the completely bemused ponies, several other ponies inside the house cheering. Rainbow had been wondering where Pinkie was and wasn’t even vaguely surprised she was here.

“Er, thanks?” Concorde offered as he sat confused while Maffett and Lightning Dust just burst out laughing at the bizarre spectacle.

Rainbow Dash smiled. There wasn’t any better way for ponies to be welcomed to Ponyville then with one of Pinkie’s parties. The hyperactive earth pony quickly gathered up the seven new comers and pushed them inside where they found the whole enormous lounge and adjoined kitchen decorated with balloons, party streamers and ribbons while at least half the town had squeezed into the room to greet them.

Pinkie soon got about introducing everypony at high speed as DJ P0N3 started playing some music. Rainbow would have been surprised if they remembered any of the names Pinkie rattled off so quickly even she couldn’t keep up.

“So what do you think of them?” Rarity asked as she squeezed in. Fluttershy joined them as she avoided being pushed in front of the new ponies.

“I don’t know. They’re alright, I guess.” Rainbow replied after a moment’s thought. Lightning Dust seemed to keep trying to sneak out of the middle of the room with no real luck, seemingly more out of impatience than anything else. The others seemed happy to let Pinkie introduce everyone, though it was clear they probably wouldn’t remember a tenth of the names.

“Well, Concorde is certainly cute in a boyish way.” Rarity observed, catching Rainbow and Fluttershy by surprise, though they weren’t entirely sure why they were surprised.

“I wasn’t even considering him that way. I just think he’s a quick Pegasus with a stupid accent.”

“But his accent is so charming! It’s not quite as nice as an Anglican accent but it’s still lovely.”

“Ehm, Rainbow, did you say they were from Whitbay?” Fluttershy asked, a question Rainbow was glad to focus on instead.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder if they’ve ever met a giant whale or a sea turtle as they live on the coast, maybe even dolphins or seals!” Fluttershy said, getting more excited. “I’ve always wanted to meet such beautiful creatures.”

“Well, if you ask, let us know how it goes.” Rainbow replied with a sly smile, knowing her friend likely wouldn’t find the courage to.

The party continued for a few hours before Fleetfoot insisted her team be given time to unpack and get comfortable in their new home ahead of beginning their work in the morning. The Ponyville residence were very understanding and helped them move their stuff in before leave, Concorde replying in kind by helping DJ P0N3 unplug and pack up her equipment before leaving.

Rainbow left after they were settled and headed home. The next day would be the start of her rise to the ranks of the Wonderbolts for sure.

Lets Get Started

The next morning, Rainbow Dash found herself drowsily gliding across Ponyville. She was never meant to get up at this cursed hour and she didn’t care how often Applejack told her waking early would make you healthier or anything. Fluttershy always said waking to bird song was the most wonderful thing in the world, but Dash just found it to be an inconsistent alarm call.

Her mind was also making room for worry between the annoyance and drowsiness. She had been meant to read through the rule book since their test flight before Heath Warming yet at most all she’d done was skim through it. She’d fallen asleep while trying to memorise the flag signals last night and couldn’t remember the difference between the black with orange circle flag or the yellow and orange wavy line flag, though one of them defiantly had something to do with wind.

She missed the old windmill the first time over, having been looking for the sails before remembering they had been removed some time ago. She spotted the varnished wooden building on the second pass with Concorde unlocking the front door. He had a saddle bag on that appeared to have several groceries in it, so she dived straight towards the door, doing a quick flip before landing as silently as a cat next to him.

Concorde paused, completely bemused for a moment before looking at her.

“Mornin’” Concorde said. “Nice flip.”

“Forward flip for style.” Dash grinned.

“Not a perfect finish, might have to dock a point.” He added grinning, referring to her stance that looked vaguely like a gymnast’s finishing stance.

“Huh?”

“Nowt, nowt. Get yourself inside, Fleet wants to start as soon as possible.”

“Nowt?”

“Aye, nowt. Nothing.” Concorde added.

Concorde pushed the door open and allowed Dash to go in first. The living room and adjoined kitchen were surprisingly tidy after one of Pinkie’s parties. Fleetfoot was busy sticking things to a white board while Maffett and Ratchett placed chairs and beanbags in front of it.

“Did you guys clean all this?” Dash asked, slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Couldn’t get comfortable in that bed even without Maffett snoring the place down, so did some bits and bobs down here. Managed to go through all our milk from cups of tea, too.”

“So they’re not kidding when they say Yorkshire ponies are big tea drinkers?”

“That’s an understatement.” Fleetfoot said. “Morning, by the way.”

“I don’t snore!” Maffett suddenly shot back at Concorde.

“You do. I’d have felt all scared and lonely if you didn’t.” Concorde grinded back. Dash just looked confused.

“What?” Concorde asked, seeing her expression.

“Are you two toge-”

“No.” Both Concorde and Maffett injected before Dash could finish her question.

“So she snores that loudly?”

“I don’t snore!”

“Come on Ratchett, back me up.” Concorde prompted. The unicorn didn’t look up.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to say anything.” He replied, putting a beanbag in place as Concorde burst out laughing.

“Did I miss anything?” Spanner asked as he came down the stairs, followed by Lightning Dust who looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

“Whoa, you look terrible Dusty.” Concorde remarked. “You ok?”

“No. I couldn’t sleep from the noise underneath me.” She said, rubbing her eyes.

“Concorde’s room is under yours. You’re the snoring one, stal!” Maffett commented at Concorde.

“No I don’t. I’ve been told I sound like a kitten purring.” He said mockingly.

“If I had a kitten that made a noise like that, I’d put it down.” Spanner remarked.

“I think that’s enough bickering this early in the morning.” Fleet said over them. “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get started.

***

Fleetfoot finished pinning sheets and paper and scribbling notes on her board as the others got comfortable, the racers each on a beanbag in front of their spotters. Concorde passed out a few apples he had bought while he’d been out that morning, tossing one into the air that got impaled on Ratchett’s horn.

“Right,” Fleet started once she’d finished writing. “When we’re done playing around, we’ll get started.”

Her words went totally unnoticed while Concorde tossed three more apples into the air, each landing perfectly in his, Dash’s and the now fully awake Dust’s mouths.

“Ah, kettle!” Concorde suddenly exclaimed through a mouth full of apple.

“Anyone want a cuppa?” He called asked as he left his half eaten apple and trotted over to the kitchen. Fleet just sighed as she put her pointing stick down.

“Of course!” Maffett replied, sneaking onto Concorde’s vacated beanbag.

Rainbow noticed Lightning noting something down and when she leaned over to get a better look saw it was a list of slang words.

“It’s almost like learning another language.” Dust commented when she realized Dash was looking, rubbing her eye.

“Want a drink, Dupond et Dupont?” Concorde asked, drawing confusion from Dash, Dust and Fleet.

“Huh?”

“You two.” He repied, pointing at Ratchett and Spanner. They just looked at him, unsure how to react.

“Dupond and Dupont?” They said in unison.

“Well do you want one or not?”

“Milk, one sugar.” They replied in unison, ignoring Concorde’s amused look.

“What’s Dupond et Dupont, though?” Dash asked

“You’ll find out.” Maffett said, smirking as if she was in on the joke. “He loves his French comics.”

“He speaks French?”

“Oui.” Concorde replied. “Ma mere est de Maneaco.” Dash and Dust just looked completely bemused, having never expected someone with that accent suddenly speak what sounded like perfect French.

He just smiled as he gave Ratchett and Spanner matching blue and white stripped mugs, though they didn’t seem to notice as they drunk in unison.

He then carried over one which he placed where Maffett had been sat, a dark blue mug with ‘Strawberry Blonde Mug’ written on it, before presenting Fleet with a steaming blue mug down with a bright 35 on it. She took it from him and took a quick sip as Concorde turned around and realized Maffett was sitting in his beanbag.

“Jump in my grave as quickly, would you?” as he walked past to retrieve the final mug, which was white with ‘Total Mug’ written on it.

“Maybe.”

“Children!” Fleet said firmly before she lost their attention as she put her mug aside. “You’ve been chosen for this team as you are the best the Wonderbolts Academy or the team Captain Spitfire has seen.”

“Spitfire shares a desire to see talent raise to the top with the leader of the newly reformed Red Hawks, Hurricane, so we’ve decided to work together to do just that.”

“Dash and Dust, you may be asking how flying in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League could possibly help improve your ability as a performance flyer? Well, my personal philosophy is to jump in the deepest end possible and work it out from there and believe me when I say the ECRL is tough.”

“In a routine, you’ll always know where your teammates are going. In a race, you don’t have that luxury and you will be required to think and react in a matter of split seconds in very small spaces in some cases.”

“The three of you can learn something off each other that has the potential to make you even better then you already are, but before we get to that point I want to make sure you’ve done your research and learning of the rules.”

Dash and Dust gulped in unison.

“Seeing as you’re already across this sort of thing, Concorde,” Fleet continued, turning to the slightly worried Dash and Dust. “I’ll ask you two: What does the blue flag represent?”

The others watched Dash and Dust as they thought. Dash knew she had seen a blue flag in the list of rules but she couldn’t for the life of here remember what it meant. While she thought, Concorde rolled Maffett out of the beanbag and jumped back onto it.

“Right, for those at the back with the Daring Doo books hidden in their rule books,” Fleet started, making Dash look awkward as there actually was a Daring Doo book in her rule book, though she had been using it as a book mark. “The blue flag means the race leader is about to lap you and you have to let him or her through.”

“Flag signals are race control’s method of informing you about significant events and hazards during the race.” Fleet continued. “The most commonly used flags are the Equestian national flag to start the race, the yellow flag to inform of danger and not to pass, the green flag to inform the danger has pass and you can carry on racing and of course the chequered flag to inform of the end of the race.”

“Lightning,” Fleet turned to Dust. “What is the difference between a single still yellow flag, a waved yellow flag and two waved yellow flags?” Everyone looked at her while she thought.

“Is it how serious the accident is?” She offered eventually.

“Technically yes.” Fleet replied after mulling the answer over. “But more importantly it’s how much of a danger an incident poses to those on track. Double waved yellows means there’s marshals on track.”

“And be prepared to stop.” Concorde added.

“I don’t think you can take part in that, Corde.” Maffett said. “You’ve got an unfair advantage, there’s nothing you don’t know about racing.”

Maffett quickly snuck around the back of the three Pegasus to Lightning Dust.

“Ask him to name every pony who’s won at Maneaco.”

“He knows every one?”

“That’s even more unfair.” Concorde said “My grandparents live down there so I’m pretty much across racing lore there.”

“Well go on.” Rainbow Dash prompted.

“Well, you asked.” He replied, adjusting himself in the beanbag and taking a moment to think. “Grover, Dreyfus, Chiron, Novulari,” He started, rattling off the names without stopping for breath as Maffett giggled harder and harder while the others looked more and more stunned. “Velcodade, Mercedes and Hest.”

There was a slightly stunned silence once he’d finished, interrupted by Maffett’s giggling.

“Don’t give me that, I’d bet you could name all the Wonderbolts captains.” Concorde challenged with an amused smile.

Dash launched into a similar list, naming each Wonderbolts captain as quickly as Concorde had named his racers. “Firestorm, Lightning Charger, Spitfire.” She eventually finished.

“I think you’ve out nerded me, Dashie me dear.” Concorde replied, smiling. “Speaking of flyers, is the list official?” He asked Fleet. She just pointed to a list attached to the top corner of her white board.

“It’s not an official list, those don’t have your names on yet and we haven’t decided what our team’s going to be called.” Fleet said as the assembled ponies read the list.

It consisted of ponies Dash knew of and ponies she had never heard of with their race numbers and team names.

1 - Mercedes - MER - Silver Arrows
2 - Nicki Hest - HST - Vargarna
03 - Typhoon - TYH - Chasers
4 - Zip Line - ZIP - Chasers
5 - Ekstrom Falun - EKM - Swan Speed
7 - Blitzen - BTZ - Reindeer Racers
8 - Power Drive - PWD - Vargarna
9 - Quicksilver - QSL - Silver Arrows
15 - Wolke Schwade - WLK - Fancypants Racing
19 - Lotus Steam - LTS - Chappony Engineering - Rookie
21 - Velocidade - VEL - Embraer Faze Correr
29 - Dawn Wisp - DWP - WildFire Racing
30 - Red Rum - RED - Champion Cloud
34 - Skyline Datsun - SKY - Nissaddle
36 - Auroras Encore - ARE - Champion Cloud - Rookie
40 - Aperto Jnr - APR - Fancypants Racing
46 - Rossi Dottore - ROS - WildFire Racing
51 - Wildfire - WLF - WildFire Racing
52 - Concorde Cayley - CRD - TBA - Rookie
67 - Riggwelter - RIG - Team Blacksheep
84 - Leciec Wartki - LEC - Swan Speed
99 - Jorge Rapido - JOR - Caballo Carreras
?? - Lightning Dust - LTD - TBA - Rookie
?? - Rainbow Dash - RBD - TBA - Rookie

“Why are we at the bottom?” Rainbow asked, though Lightning seemed to have noticed something else.

“Cayley?”

“Aye?” Concorde said, arching an eyebrow.

“Your surname’s Cayley?”

“Aye it is, Dusty” He replied, looking slightly amused.

“You’re at the bottom because you don’t have numbers yet, I made up your shortened names for the TV a while ago.” Fleet injected to answer Rainbow’s question. “The organisers have been pestering me for an answer so if you two have a number in mind?”

“Fifty nine!” Lightning said instantly.

“Ok.” Fleet said, scribbling down the number. “Rainbow.”

“Fifty eight.” Rainbow said with a grin. Lightning looked annoyed as Fleet wrote the number down.

“I choice fifty nine because it’s my lucky number. Any reason you choice fifty eight?”

“It’s my lucky number.” Rainbow replied with a smirk, though neither Lightning or Concorde believed her. “How ‘bout you, Corde?”

“I’ve always raced as fifty two.” He stated. “One of my favourite racers, Doncaster Kiveton-Park, had that number too. He actually officially gave me it when I met him once.”

“Officially? Was there a ceremony?”

“With flowers and everything.”

“If we could move on, Children.” Fleet injected, drawing their attention. “I want you to be familiar with the tracks as well as the competition.”

On the other side of the board which Fleet was pointing towards was a list of circuits with a few small diagrams. Rainbow recognised a few names, the first one especially as she’d been there a few times, if not to watch the races.

Cloudsdale Grand Prix - Cloud (WB)
Grand Prix of Baltimare – Street (WB)
Vanhoover Challenge -Road (RH)
Dodge Coaster – Dodge Junction (New) – Cloud (DJH)
Towcesterstone – Trottingham – Road (RH)
Maneaco Grand Prix – Street (RH)
Le Manes Grand Prix – Road (RH)
Fillydelphian Grand Prix – Cloud (RH)
Windy Valley Raceway – Yorkshire (Reinstated) – Cloud/Road (RH)
Baytona 200 – Road (WB)
Rantakallio – Cloud (RH)
Canterlot Grand Prix – Cloud/Street (WB & RH)

“Dodge Junction’s official now?” Concorde asked.

“It is. Hopefully they can keep the track in one piece all weekend.” Fleet replied, checking the diagram marked ‘Dodge Coaster’, which featured interlocking rings of cloud.

“What’s the WB and RH mean?” Rainbow asked.

“Oh, it’s who’s performing before each race, either the Wonderbolts or the Red Hawks. Part of the contract for the Dodge Junction race was to let their local team, the Hornets, fly beforehand from what I was told.”

“More importantly, I’ve noted the track type next to each. We’ll have go-karts as a supporting race on road and street tracks, even Windy Valley and Canterlot where they’ll take a different route.”

“That go-kart track at Windy’s great.” Concorde remarked.

At that moment, there was a knock on their door.

“That had better be Rarity with your suits.” Fleet said, stepping around the team and heading for the door.

“Didn’t realize you were having them sent to her.” Ratchett said, rubbing his moustache.

“Seeing as she’s willing to design the suit livery, I figured it’d be best.” Fleet replied as she opened the door. Rarity was indeed there, levitating three enormous bags.

“Did you start without me?” She asked.

“You only missed the boring stuff.” Dash smiled

“I’m sorry I’m late, these horrible things only just arrived.” She said, levitating the bags through the door.

“Do you want a cuppa?” Concorde asked, climbing out of his seat, grabbing the empty mugs and trotting back over to the kitchenette.

“Why yes, please.” Rarity said as she levitated and dropped the suits by the sofa “Do you have any flowery earl grey?”

“Er, we have Trotley’s.” Concorde shrugged. Rarity actually gasped in surprise.

“You drink that stuff?”

“Aye. In fact, as you’re going to be our sponsor, you’ll have to try a good hearty cuppa rather then that wishy washy stuff. It’s tea bag, milk, sugar and then water here, me dear.” Concorde smiled. Rarity just looked at him like he was some sort of heathen.

“Now we have the suits, why don’t you try yours on, Dash?” Fleet said.

“Sure.”

***

It took a while, but Dash was eventually fully kitted out in the plain white leather suit, open face helmet, goggles that fit flush in with her helmet, a mouth guard which covered anything her helmet didn’t and matching boots. It felt uncomfortable and limited her movements, not to mention creaking at every small movement. Her wings were still fully exposed, as was her tail, making her wonder what the point was.

“Hover.” Fleet prompted.

Dash did so, hovering a few feet in the air and holding her legs out. In this position, it felt more natural as the material didn’t pull awkwardly against her. She couldn’t help but notice Rarity rapidly scribbling something down on a notepad, though.

“What good does that mouth thing do?” Lightning asked.

“Well, it won’t stop any broken bones” Concorde said offhand “but it will save you re-growing huge chunks of skin.”

“I can hardly move!” Dash commented, allowing herself to drift back to the ground.

“Don’t worry, it’ll soon wear in. Just takes a bit of time.” Concorde smiled.

“Well, as it’s midday, you can have a break if want. It is a lot to take in after all.” Fleet sighed.

“Well food wise I wouldn’t mind some more of those bakewell tarts Pinkie brought last night.” Concorde said.

“And those caramel slices!” Maffett added.

Before they could carry on, there was a knock at the window that drew everyone’s attention. Pinkie Pie was stood there with an enormous grin on her face and an even bigger plate full of cakes and tarts balanced precariously on her head.

“That mare’s found an easy way to my heart.” Concorde remarked.

“Does she always do things like that?” Fleet asked.

“Only when you least expect it.” Rainbow smiled.

Cooking for Idiots

With Rarity lost to her work again, the four ponies left to walk home, the sun now starting to make its way over the horizon and cast lengthy shadows.

“You defiantly weren’t kidding about her.” Concorde commented.

“About the OCD or the designs?” Dash asked, still amused by his and Maffett’s reactions to one of Rarity’s flashes of inspiration.

“Both.” Maffett chipped in. Concorde was going to offer another remark before they rounded a corner and the old windmill came into view.

“Why am I not even vaguely surprised?” Concorde remarked as the old windmill came into view. The ground floor windows were open with smoke billowing out of them again.

The group walked over, opening the door as if nothing was wrong and walked in to find Fleet, Ratchett and Spanner rapidly trying to clean up the enormous mess in the kitchen.

The three looked up from what they were doing, Fleet mopping up an enormous puddle of what looked like red wine, Ratchett seemingly trying to clean the oven where most of the smoke was coming from while Spanner tried to dispose of the charred remains of something.

“Success?” Concorde asked, knowing the answer.

“In getting into the charcoal industry at the very least.” Maffett remarked, having a look at what Spanner was getting rid of.

“What happened?” Dash asked, noticing a dust pan full of broken glass.

“My fault, this time.” Fleet owned up, squeezing the mop out into a nearby bucket before continuing to clean. “Too much oil and brandy.”

“Brandy and oil? What were you trying to make?” Concorde asked, interested in how this madness happened.

“Spaghetti Bolognese.” Spanner answered, putting the charred remains in the bin.

“Did you put brandy in because the wine was on the floor?”

“No, I knocked it over when the pan burst into flames.”

“Did you put it in the oven out of panic?”

“No, garlic beard burnt to a crisp while we tried to sort everything else out.” Ratchett answered.

“We need to set a camera up in here, we’d be famous on Youtrot within the week.” Concorde chuckled. “Seriously though, how’d you do this? If that was out of the book my mum wrote then I’m extra especially impressed.”

“Why?” Dash found herself asking.

“She wrote that book with me in mind and I’m a dunce in the kitchen.”

“And in many other places as well.” Maffett commented, to which Concorde responded by stealing her glasses after a moment.

“Shut up and read your mail.” Fleet said. Spanner froze for a moment as he thought.

“Has the mail arrived yet?” He asked, to which he was answered by a sudden thud against the wall

“I think it has now.” Maffett remarked, taking her glasses back off Concorde as he went to investigate.

He opened the door to find the town mail mare in a heap by the door, letters all over the place. She quickly untangled herself and smiled.

“You ok there, Dee?” A slightly concerned Concorde asked as she started rummaging around in her mail bag.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” She said quickly, hiding her face behind the open bag before giving him three letters and a newspaper. “Here you go!”

“Cheers, me dears.” Concorde replied, almost automatically as Derpy saluted and jumped back into the sky, flying in a slightly wobbly line as she was likely still dizzy. The other Ponyville residence had told him it was normal for her to deliver letters in that matter but he couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d have to fly into things before her eyes both pointed straight or maybe even be on time.

He returned to the living room, Dash and Maffett now helping the others as they cleaned up as he sorted the mail, casting the paper towards the breakfast bar where Maffett immediately started reading it. Two were from his and Maffett’s respective parents while the third was one he’d been waiting for.

The writing style of the letter was so overly joined up, curly and ornate it was difficult to read for most ponies, but Concorde was already familiar with it as it belonged to his long time pen pal Octavia.

“Tavi have anything to say?” Maffett asked, having recognised the writing.

“Sadly she can’t make the first race as she’s got several shows lined up but she says she’ll try and get a table at the last show of the run reserved for us on the Wednesday after Cloudsdale.”

“Where’s she playing?”

“Union Chapel, which’ll be a break from all those concert halls.”

“Who’s that?” Dash found herself asking.

“Octavia Melody. I’ve been pen pals with her for a while after we met when our respective parents had obsessions with getting us high class partners. She’s the only one I could stand for any length of time, the rest were your typical toff with no chin slagging off the working classes at every moment.” Concorde told Dash, though she had no idea what a toff was. “She’s a real trivia nut and surprisingly witty.”

“Oh Corde, you should see this!” Maffett suddenly laughed, turning the paper she was reading around. It was an interview with one of the current ECRL racers and Concorde’s former rival Wolke Schwade, part of which read:

Q: You’ll be racing with established flyers such as Ekstrom, Rossi, Power Drive and reigning champion Mercedes. How do you feel to be racing against flyers of such high calibre?

Wolke: I’m genuinely excited, though I suppose you want to know if I’m worried, to which I’d say I’m not that worried about the competition.

Q: Is there any opponent who ‘worries’ you?

Wolke: Well, maybe worry is the wrong word, but before coming to the ECRL I used to go to Windy Valley for both challenge of both the track and the competition, one especially called Concorde Cayley whom I’m disappointed I’m not racing against in the league.

“Oh, Mère enfer saut p*****!” Concorde muttered through gritted teeth, turning away and hiding his face in his hooves to everypony’s surprise. “The journalists are going to be on my like a pack of freaking dogs tomorrow at the team reveal.”

“You’re scared of the media?” Dash asked, both taken aback and amused at his outburst as well as the idea something so trivia would bother him.

“I’m not scared of them, I just don’t like the spotlight and the bloody thing’s gonna come straight for me now.”

“It’s quite ironic you want to be a racer, which would put you directly it.” Maffett remarked.

“I know, guess I can tolerate them so long as they don’t start chasing me around away from the tracks. I’d much rather there weren’t headlines on every paper and news program and what I like to drink or wear. I actually have talent after all.”

“That opinion would definitely make headlines.”

“Racer mocks Equestria’s Got Talent entrees.” Dash added. “He says little fillies who have worked so hard to audition and lost so much are worthless.”

“I didn’t say that.” He replied, not exactly thrilled but interested in seeing how far Dash could take this imaginary newspaper article, which he’d certainly do if their present positions were swapped.

“He says even he can create better music with a pair of spoons.”

“Now you’re making me feel hungry. Time to dig out the takeaway menus.”

Introducing The Wonderhawks

Ponyville Town Hall was packed with journalists and camera ponies. The Wonderbolts were going to reveal their secret project that night, which was said to be in collaboration with another team though who exactly that could be seemed to be shrouded in rumour to those in the hall.

A stage with red backing curtain had been set up inside the hall, a projector above the door shining the Wonderbolts logo onto the curtain.

Rainbow Dash carefully peered around the edge of the curtain to get a look at the crowd of journalists and camera ponies, all ready and waiting for Spitfire and Hurricane to tell Equestria about the team.

She, Concorde and Lightning Dust were suited up, their helmets were currently sat on podiums that would be raised behind them once they were on stage. There was going to be some sort of introduction before they went out on stage.

Concorde was pacing up and down, looking nervous. Dash was still somewhat amused it bothered him so much as she always enjoyed the attention. Dust didn’t seem overly bothered either way and looked somewhat impatient to get this charade over with.

Red Hawks leader Hurricane, in a team shirt and had arrived earlier that afternoon, was busy discussing details with Spitfire and Fleetfoot, both in Wonderbolts shirts, ahead of going on stage.

Once they had finished their discussion, Fleetfoot went over to her flyers.

“One minute until we start, ponies.” She said. “Wait for your signal, stand in place and don’t forget to smile.”

“But I’ve been working on my grimace.” Concorde remarked, trying to defuse his obvious nerves but Fleet just ignored him.

“Just line up behind the curtains and wait until they’re opened.”

The three of them nodded before Fleet went to her own position.

“I’ll quickly just abuse the facilities before we go on.” Concorde announced before heading for the bathroom. Maffett shuck her head, looking amused.

“That’s the third time.” Dust observed. “Is he always this bad?”

“He is.” Maffett answered. “Even if we’re seeing a show or movie he seems to need the toilet at least twice before hoof.”

“There’s our pre-race entertainment, watching him rush back and forth.” Dash mused. “Want to take bets on how long he’ll be?”

“Mika Lentävä was much the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came out, paused and went back in again like he used to.” Spanner said as a generic rock track from some generic rock album, courtesy of the resident DJ P0N3, was played and the crowd went silent.

“Jää Hevonen was exactly the same.” Ratchett added, which seemed to be funny to Maffett as she laughed.

***

Spitfire went out on stage and stood behind the podium as the music played which had been set up off centre and regarded the crowd. Several cameras flashed, but they mostly waited for him to speak.

“Mares and Gentlecolts, welcome to Ponyville Town Hall.” She said once the music had been faded out, quickly regarding her notes.

“The Wonderbolts are almost as old as Equestria itself, a team of exemplary Pegasus formed to protect, deliver and serve the ponies of this great nation in its infancy. Over the years, our need to fight has been diminished but the need to inspire the next generation will never end.

“The Wonderbolts inspired not only many young Pegasus to join our ranks, but many other teams as well, but I believe we can do more than just promote extreme flying and Equestria’s airborne military. I believe we can inspire greater co-operation in even more disciplines for Unicorn and Earth ponies as well as Pegasus ponies.

“To this end, I decided to create a joint initiative with another fabled flying team that has enjoyed a resurgence in recent years thanks to the efforts of their leader, who I had the honour of flying alongside when I was briefly a member of the team.

“I would like to welcome on stage that very pony. Please give a round of applause to the leader of the Red Hawks; Hurricane Hawker.” Spitfire finished.

The crowd applauded politely, though there were hushed, surprised conversations and flashing cameras as Hurricane walked out onto the stage, taking the podium as Spitfire stepped aside.

“Thank you Spitfire, everyone.” Hurricane said, regarding the crowd. “The Red Hawks may not be as old and prestigious as the Wonderbolts, but there are still those, possibly in this room, who were alive to remember a time when they were considered the best by far.

“Discipline and skill are said to be the bedrock of a successful team, but I also believe a leader with an eye for talent can take a team from simply good or extraordinary. When I was younger, I remember my father watching a particular fire maned mare auditioning for our team and he said that she would go far. Stood next to me is that same mare and when we finally met again years later, we started discussing the talent we had seen and had the honour of flying with.

“During that conversation, we both came to realise we had an opportunity to propel that talent further and, in doing so, inspire and open opportunities for Unicorn and Earth ponies as well as Pegasus ponies.

“To this end, we created the Wonderhawks, a team of three flyers who will compete in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League this season. The team will be managed by experienced Wonderbolt Echo Fleetfoot, who I would like to welcome on stage to discuss the team.”

The crowd politely applauded again, the cameras flashing as Fleetfoot went out on stage, Hurricane stepping aside for her to take the podium.

“Thank you everyone, Hurricane.” She smiled. “When I was a filly in Cloudsdale, like many I dreamt of joining the Wonderbolts. At the time, I simply wasn’t good enough and while trying to improve I found my way into race, eventually competing in the ECRL. I learnt a lot in this competitive environment which eventually let me to finally achieving my dream of joining the Wonderbolts.

“I don’t want to discredit the series by saying it’s only good for training, but racing led me to be a considerably better flyer then I was before and I believe our chosen flyers will benefit from both competing and from sharing their own experience.

“We don’t just aim to help performance flyers reach their potential, but we also want to see racers reach their potential as well and I will do my best to guide that along the way.” Fleet eventually finished, many of the journalists not entirely sure what to make of what she said.

Spitfire took to the podium again as Fleetfoot stepped aside.

“I would now like to introduce you to those who have been chosen for it. Please welcome the ponies who will compete for the Wonderhawks team in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League: Red Hawks flyer Concorde Cayley and Wonderbolts Academy exemplars Lightning Dust and Rainbow Dash.”

The curtains opened for the three flyers and their spotters to walk through as the crowd applauded, though they were lost behind all the bright camera flashes and stage lights as the three walked out and stood on stage to what sounded like more generic rock guitar music. The pedestals with their helmets on also rose up behind them once they were in place.

“These three ponies represent the best our teams have to offer. Concorde, as you’re all likely aware at this point, competed against championship favourite Wolke Schwade in junior races while Lightning Dust and Rainbow Dash together shattered many long standing records at the Wonderbolts Academy. We’re confident they can exceed in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League and the first of many young flyers to be given this opportunity.

“Assisting them as spotters will be experienced analysts Ratchet and Spanner as well as talented young-” Spit paused for a second to look at Maffett, who shot her a disproving look. Maffett was tetchy about her first name. “Maffett, formerly the Red Hawks’ commentator.”

“We’ll take a few questions off the floor before we wrap up.” Spitfire smiled, glancing around with a smile as multiple hooves shot up and a few shouted to get her attention. “Yellow unicorn.” She randomly picked out of the front row and the stage hooves quickly rushed a microphone over to her.

“Golden Quill of the Canterlot Times.” She started. “Question for Concorde; You were mentioned by name by Wolke Schwade in a newspaper interview recently and he had high praise for you. Are you confident you can live up to the expectation?”

Concorde mulled an answer over for a moment before replying, fully aware every pony in the crowd was ready to write and record what he said.

“I think we’ll have to wait and see. I was lucky enough to compete with him at Windy Valley but he was fortunate enough to be picked up by Fancypants Racing while I opted for a break from racing to join the Red Hawks. I’m confident I can do well in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League, but I’m not expecting to challenge Wolke straight away.”

“Mr Cayley!” A journalist next to Gold Quill shouted, snatching the microphone. “Speaking of Windy Valley, the League will be returning there for the first time in years. Looking forwards to it?”

“Of course. I might be slightly biased, seeing as it’s my home track, but it’s the best track in the world!”

“Concorde, what made you join the Red Hawks!” Shouted another journalist as the crowd started to go slightly mad to ask questions.

“Well, Hurricane sort me out himself and offered me the chance to join the Red Hawks early in their revival and I saw it as both a good challenge and an opportunity to improve further.”

The questions came thick and fast for Concorde, who became visibly more flustered as they went on. Maffett knew he wasn’t far off telling them to give him a break and he probably would have if one of the journalists didn’t finally decided to give Dash and Dust some attention.

“Question for both Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust.” Asked Gold Quill after finally winning the microphone back, Concorde breathing a sigh of relief. “Dash, you took a surprise victory at the Best Junior Flyers Competition in Cloudsdale a couple years ago and more recently you and Lightning Dust have broken many long standing records at the Wonderbolts Academy. The Equestrian Cloud Racing League is an entirely different type of flying to the performances required for the Junior Flyers Competition and Wonderbolts, do you think you can make the translation from performing to racing?”

Rainbow Dash quickly mulled over an answer, but Lightning Dust didn’t have the same level of restraint to think one through.

“Of course I can.” She responded, as if it was a stupid question. Fleetfoot watched with a slight look of concern. “I’m aiming for the top, I don’t take second best.”

The journalists exchanged a few glances as they wrote her response. Dash reconsidered her answer, not wanting to look less ambitious.

“Racing and performance flying, while technically different, share a lot of the same elements. It’ll be tough, we’ll be up against some of the best flyers in Equestria, but I’m aiming for the top as well.”

After a few moments of silence, another question was shouted from the opposite side of the hall from where the microphone was.

“Spitfire, will the team have any sponsors?”

“The Wonderbolts and Red Hawks, along with their sponsor Bristol Aerospace, will be providing the lion’s share of the required funding, but we’ve also approached a few local companies to see if they would be willing to provide services as well. At present, the local orchard Sweet Apple Aches and clothing designer Carousel Boutique have agreed, the latter of which designed our team’s racing suits and helmets and I believe she is also working on dresses and suits for the Season Opening Ball next week.” Spitfire answered, Concorde and Dash posing so the cameras could get a good look at their suits.

As the journalists wrote, another put his hoof up. “Ratchett, Spanner, between you you’ve been analysts for four champion contenders in recent years. What made you join the Wonderhawks?”

“Not to sound critical of other teams,” Spanner started. “But it’s not often you get the opportunity to join a fresh new team with a focus entirely on talent. It’s a challenge where I can make full use of my existing knowledge as well as take on new rolls.”

“I feel precisely the same.” Ratchett added, Maffett resisting the urge to laugh.

“Miss Maffett?” The same journalist asked, Maffett trying to look neutral and nearly causing Dash and Dust to laugh. “Could you tell us more about yourself, your experience and what you hope to achieve with the team?”

“Well,” Maffett started, pausing to think. “I started as an assistant commentator at Windy Valley while Concorde and Wolke were racing there, commentating with our old friend Brundle. When Concorde joined the Red Hawks, Hurricane asked me to commentate for the team and later recommended me for the Wonderhawks as a spotter. As for this year, I’m hoping to keep Concorde pointing in the right direction and help him achieve what he wants to achieve.”

“How long have you known each other?” Another journalist asked.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, so if you want the dirt on what he does in his spare time, just come to me.” Maffett smiled. Concorde slowly turned to give a slightly disapproving look, which seemed to amuse a few of the crowd, especially the innocent grin she returned.

“Mares and Gentlecolts.” Spit said, drawing everyone’s attention. “This brings an end to our question and answer session. I’d like to thank you all for coming along and meeting the next generation of talent from the Wonderbolts and Red Hawks ahead of next week’s first round of the Equestrian Cloud Racing League in Cloudsdale. We look forwards to competing and seeing you there, but for now: Good night.”

While Spitfire spoke, Fleet beckoned the three flyers and spotters out through the curtain. Once out of sight, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, that went considerably better than I was expecting.” Concorde remarked, rubbing his forehead.

“Still don’t like the spot light?” Fleet asked.

“Still hate it. And yes, I am still aware of the irony.”

“Looks like they love you as well. You’ll have to get used to it.” Dash smirked.

“Genial.” Concorde replied sarcastically in French before switching back to English. “They’re going to love you and Dusty too with answers like that.”

“Do we have to put up with this at every race?” Dust asked, sounding irritated.

“Yep, they’ll even hunt you down for an opinion if they have to.” Fleet replied. “Luckily, we can lock them out of our stables and VIP rooms. Although, I want the pair of you to think your answers through a little better next time.”

“Why?” Dash asked, Dust rolling her eyes and walking off.

“Every word you say will be scrutinised and reflect upon the Wonderbolts. You’ve set yourselves a really high bar that might be difficult to clear.” Fleet said, raising her voice slightly to make sure Dust heard too.

“Ok, ok.” Dash nodded, not really thinking her words would have that much impact.

“Where’s Lightning Dust gone?” Spanner asked.

“Probably to wherever she hibernates between meetings.” Maffet remarked. Dust rarely stuck around with them after practice or meetings.

“I was getting a drink.” Dust replied as she walked back over.

“Fair enough.” Fleet smiled, clearing her throat. “Right, seeing as we’re only a week away from the first meeting, I’d like all of you to get to bed by nine o’clock. I want you guys well rested and ready to go.”

The Season Opening Ball

The team and two of their sponsors arrived in Cloudsdale by Airship at noon the next day. Already, the news of their existence had spread with a lot of interest surrounding both the co-operation of the Wonderbolts and Red Hawks as well as Concorde, much to his dismay.

Once they’d gotten comfortable in their hotel, Concorde paced up and down the room he was sharing with Lightning Dust after they’d drawn straws. He was excited and nervous for the night ahead, which would be the opening ball ahead of the first race meeting of the year. They were gathering in this room before they headed to the Acropolis for the ball.

He was wearing the tail coat Rarity had made for him, as Dash, Dust and Maffett were wearing the dresses she had made. Rarity had spent hours getting ready already and at this rate they’d be fashionably late to the ball, likely as was her intent. She was now darted around those who were ready, making sure every detail about their appearance was absolutely perfect.

Big Machintosh, who Applejack had forced to come and represent them as their sponsor, was sat by the wall opposite the window, also wearing a tail coat and looking extremely nervous. He wasn’t enjoyed walking around on clouds and relying on a magic spell that could fade at a moment’s notice. Fleetfoot had already gone on ahead with the rest of the Wonderbolts.

“Where’s the two Ronnies?” Maffett asked, confusing almost everyone though Rarity didn’t seem to notice as she continued obsessively styling Dust’s mane. They were the only ones they were waiting for now.

“Getting dressed still, I think.” Concorde replied.

“Well, no offense to you Rarity, but they aren’t wearing the suits you designed for them. They went to get their own.” Maffett said. It seemed that line finally managed to pierce Rarity’s mind as she stopped grooming and asked, her eyes filled with shock.

“Why?”

“I think they want to prove they aren’t exactly the same.”

“But aren’t they brothers?” She asked, causing most of the room to burst out laughing.

“For all we know they could’ve been separated at birth.” Concorde shrugged. “But they insist they’re not related.”

“If they have the same birth date, check their hooves. See if they’ve cut them.” Maffett added.

“Sorry I’m late!” Came Spanner as he entered the room. He wore a fine, if simple, black jacket with matching bowler hat, white shirt and black tie.

“You’re not late yet. Seen Ratchett?” Maffett asked.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Ratchett said as he pushed his way in.

There was a moment of tension as most of the room held back laughter, waiting for Ratchett and Spanner to realize. They eventually looked at each other, their mild interest turning into stares of disbelief. If it wasn’t for their slightly different moustaches, they’d look like an exact mirror image of each other. With the exception of Rarity, everyone started laughing.

“Did you both think the other would try something more ornate?” Dust found herself asking eventually.

“Well…. Yes.” They replied in unison, causing the others to laugh again.

“At least the jackets suit you.” Rarity said, having studied their choice of clothes and not joining in the laughter. “I would have given you gold and jet buttons and possibly not gone so far as to include the derby hat.” She continued, before noticing Concorde get back up after rolling around laughing and sighing angrily. “You’ve ruined it now!”

Concorde froze in surprise as she grabbed her brush, forcefully positioned his head and re-groomed his now out of position mane.

“Just whack him with the brush if he acts up.” Maffett smiled.

“Do it anyway.” Rainbow Dash encouraged, though it looked more likely Rarity would accidently strangle him first.

***

Cloudsdale was already high off the ground, hence the name, but stood at the highest point in the city was the Acropolis, formerly the citadel and place of power of the Pegasus before Equestria was founded.

Over an hour after the ball had started, the group of eight arrived. There was a herd of camera ponies around the entrances that all turned to the Wonderhawks as they approached.

Rarity quite enjoyed the attention in contrast to Concorde as she walked next to him, who’s smiles hid his discomfort. Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust had their respective spotters Ratchett and Spanner walking alongside them while Maffett walked with Big Mac, who looked equally as uncomfortable as Concorde.

“Just a moment.” A unicorn said as they approached the huge door into the Acropolis. Without another word, he zapped Rarity with a spell. “Just topping up your lighter then clouds spell so you don’t cause a scene and fall through the floor.” He explained flatly before zapping the other three unicorns and the mountain of an Earth Pony in their group.

Once satisfied, the announcer called out their names in pairs so the hall could hear as they entered.

The main hall was enormous. Stars could be seen through the wispy roof which was held up by mighty cloud columns around the edges of the room. Ponies in various expensive dresses and suits milled around talking as waiters flew around and a band played slow, easy to listen to music.

Concorde looked fit to burst with excitement as he looked around the room, spotting team owners and flyers from various different eras mingling with the current racers, team owners and sponsors. He would have gone and started begging for autographs if it wasn’t for the unicorn and overly familiar Pegasus making a beeline for him and Rarity.

“Ah, Rarity my dear, such a pleasure to see you again.” The unicorn smiled, bowing to them. He was pure white with light purple mane, moustache and tail. He wore a monocle and fine tail jacket with a bow tie that matched his mane.

The young Pegasus next to him was Wolke Schwade, Concorde’s former rival. He had sand coloured fur and blonde mane and tail, his blue eyes almost piercing yet still filled with coltish enthusiasm. He wore the same style of jacket as his sponsor and team owner, but with a bow tie to match his mane.

“It’s good to see you again, Fancypants.” Rarity smiled. “This is-”

“You don’t need to tell me, this fine young gentlecolt would be Concorde Cayley unless I’m much mistaken.”

“You aren’t, sir.” Concorde replied. “Has Wolke here told you a few stories?” He asked, grinning at his old rival.

“In fact he has. He holds you in very high regards.”

“So I hear. I take it the pair of you have met?” Concorde asked, indicating to Rarity.

“We have, dear colt. Why, I go to Rarity first when I’m in need of new suits, but I see she has surpassed herself with yours.”

“Oh you’re too kind.” Rarity giggled. Concorde took the opportunity to split and branch off on his own as the pair spoke, Wolke seemingly on the same wavelength as he peeled away from his employer too.

“So you missed me, did you?” Concorde grinned the Bavarian stallion.

“Just seeing you lag behind.” Wolke smirked.

“And there was me thinking it was the sight of my tail you missed.”

“Well, to be honest Concorde, I want to beat the best and while the best are here, it missed something without you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I actually didn’t realize how much I missed racing you until last year.”

“I think I see. I enjoyed performing with the Red Hawks but it wasn’t like a good race against the likes of yourself.”

“What exactly did happen to you, anyway?”

“Long story cut short, mother dearest didn’t want her little colt getting himself killed.”

“And she had you banned from Windy Valley Raceway?”

“Yep. It’s almost like an abysmal story you’d find on the internet if you were lucky enough to avoid all the slash fiction.”

“Well, you’re here now at last. I expect you to be racing me before long.”

“Oh I will. Anything you think I should know of.”

“Nothing you don’t already know, though the media events aren’t something I particularly relish.”

“Yeah, I heard Fancypants likes showing you off at various conventions.”

“Well that and -ah.” Wolke suddenly cut off, looking at something behind Concorde. He turned around to see a line of photographers, all ready to take pictures. The pair looked at each other, before shrugging their shoulders and posing.

***

Dust was bored within minutes of entering this charade. The small talk, the slow music, the throng of ponies milling around was simply felt pointless and she couldn’t help but feel half of it wasn’t serious. She hadn’t stayed with the others after seeing Concorde and Rarity talking to some big shot and split off on her own to find the Wonderbolts with little success.

After posing for a few pictures and answering some journalist questions, she was trying to keep herself from going crazy from the depressingly slow pace of the event with a glass of champagne, which she had a feeling Concorde would try and educate her on if she bumped into him.

“Enjoying yourself?” Someone asked. She looked over to see Maffett with Big Machintosh stood nearby, still looking hugely out of place.

“No.” Dust replied bluntly.

“Had a feeling this wouldn’t be your thing. Concorde’s in some sort of fan colt heaven at the moment so I left him to it.”

“And your date?”

“Date? You mean Mac? He’s cute and all, but I wouldn’t call him a date. I don’t think he knows how to deal with this yet. Speaking of which, where’s Spanner?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s talking to someone he’s worked with before.”

“That could be anyone in this room. He’s been spotter and/or analyst for a few of the good guys, same as Ratchett.”

“I don’t even know who these ponies are. Most of them look the same.”

“Well, Mercedes over there does stand out.” Maffett said, indicating to a stunning silver mare in a matching dress talking to a journalist, before adding: “She’s the reigning champion.”

“I’m surprised you’ve not heard of her, Dust.” Dash commented, making them both jump in surprise. She laughed as they regained themselves.

“I have. I’m surprised you care with her being from Fillydelphia.” Dust retorted.

“I know of her so I know what I have to beat to prove we’re better than them.” Dash grinned, her usual overly patriotic side for Cloudsdale coming out. “So what can you tell us about the others, Maffett?”

Dust and Dash listened to Maffett as she pointed out Aperto Jnr along with his famous racing father Aperto Snr, the almost eternal number two Zip Line, the surprisingly big Power Drive and multiple champion and renowned ‘bad boy’ Nicki Hest.

“Why’s he a renowned bad boy?” Dash asked.

“He’s not afraid to push others off track or squeezing. He's even been known to start the odd fight as well. That guy over there’s the ever popular if not exactly successful Riggwelter.” Maffett continued, indicating to a black stallion with fur that looked more like a thick fleece.

“He looks kinda fat.” Dust commented, a remark that seemed to carry far enough for Riggwelter to hear.

“He’s half Fluffypony.” Maffett quickly informed her.

“I thought they just exploded into lots of mini versions of themselves?”

“No, when you shave them their cut hair becomes new Fluffyponies.” Dash chuckled.

“Actually,” Riggwelter said in a thick accent not dissimilar to Concorde’s. “They’re born and raised in the mother’s fur, emerging when they’re fully grown. One moment there’s one, the next there’s a herd.”

Dash, Dust and Maffett just looked at him, slightly surprised. He looked fairly amused, as if he’d had this discussion multiple times before.

“Are you from Whitbay too?” Dash found herself asking.

“Nah, Mareham. It’s sixty miles away from Whitbay.” He replied, adding the distance when Dust and Dash’s expressions remained blank.

“How do you race with a fleece like that?” Dash asked after a moment’s silence.

“Simple; I shave it off before every meeting. This stuff grows like you wouldn’t believe.”

Behind Riggwelter, Dust noticed Mercedes look over in their direction before walk over to them.

“Riggwelter, it’s good to see you again.” She said pleasantly with a little bit of a German accent, which was a bit of a surprise considering she was from Fillydelphia.

“Good to see you too, Mercedes.” Rigg said back. She was an exceptionally beautiful mare now they saw her close up, both well-toned and sleek yet she looked like she’d be more at home on a catwalk then a race track. She had a small poses of three other ponies for company.

“You must be the Wonderhawks.” She stated, turning to Dash and Dust.

“We are.” Dash answered, Dust continuing with her drink.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust. I’ve looked into your accomplishments and you are certainly very talented.” She smiled warmly. “Some of the records you broke had stood for generations, did they not?”

“Yeah, they did.” Dash smiled, unsure what to say.

“Where is your third member?” Mercedes then asked.

“He’s over there.” Maffett said, pointing to where Concorde and Wolke were talking. Before anyone could say anything, she shouted across the hall at him: “Hey, Corde!”

Several ponies looked at her, but most importantly Concorde did. He excused himself from his conversation with Wolke and came over.

“You squawked, Maffett?” He asked light heartedly, before noticing Mercedes. He seemed to do a double take when he realised who she was. “Mercedes!”

“Concorde. It’s nice to meet you.” She said pleasantly to the star struck stallion, which Dash and Maffett couldn’t help but giggle at.

“Erm, yes! Likewise, ma’am!” Concorde said, his tongue attempting to twist itself up.

“This is Snaps my media mare, Sharp Eyes my spotter and Graphs my analysts.” She said, indicating to each of her entourage in turn. Dust and Dash both thought it was somewhat overkill, the former only recently being convinced she even needed a spotter.

“Hi.” Concorde waved to them. “Full entourage, then.”

“As full as we are allowed, yes. I certainly prefer a few trust worthy faces to the enormous gangs we used to have and the go-karts get.”

“They need plenty of mechanics, mind, especially if they need a full re-build. Even my dad can’t fully rebuild a glider as fast as they can rebuild a go-kart.”

“Your father is an aviator, correct?” Mercedes inquired. Concorde paused for thought, not sure if he should be dumbstruck the reigning champion had done quite a bit of research into him. Before he could respond, an announcer called across the hall:

“Mares and Gentlecolts, we need the Equestrian Cloud Racing League competitors to gather by the main stage for pictures.”

“Almost thought they’d forgotten.” Riggwelter commented, stroking his mane back before heading towards the stage.

“We should go straight away. I dare say our managers would want us little foals in bed straight after.” Mercedes joked.

“Mind if I do something enormously unprofessional first?” Concorde asked, which made Mercedes look a little wary and Dash and Maffett very interested.

“Erm, ok.” She replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Can I get your autograph?” He asked, grinning broadly as he producing a season review book of the previous year’s ECRL, her championship year. Mercedes chucked as Dash and Maffett burst out laughing before her media mare Snaps gave her a pen. She signed the cover before the giddy colt returned the book to wherever he had hidden it previously.

“If you do anything this year, Concorde,” Mercedes started, returning the pen. “keep that enthusiasm. If you keep your love for the sport, you can climb out of any rough spot easily.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need to call me ma’am. We’re racers sharing the same track and I’ll give you the same respect on there I’ll give anyone else.”

“Alright then, Merc. Best of luck to you.” He added pleasantly.

“Same to you. It was nice meeting all of you.” She added to Dust, Dash and Maffett as well before she headed for the photo stand. Concorde and Rainbow Dash followed, while Lightning Dust finished her drink before heading over as well.

The twenty four competitors lined up on the stand set up for them, twelve on the top and twelve in front. Lightning Dust figured she’d smile for the throng of cameras taking pictures of them all, knowing this picture would be remembered as her and those she obliterated.

ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Practice

Cloudsdale Racing Circuit was built next to the Rainbow Factory and Rain water Reservoir, parts of the track taking their name from the item next to them. The circuit had been renovated a number of times since its original construction when scouting and messenger Pegasus used to use it to prove who was best.

The crowd was starting to build on the first day of the meeting which was dedicated to two two hour practice sessions, the weather kept still and sunny by the weather ponies.

In their stable, lined up along the pit lane, the Wonderhawks studied their diagram of the track one last time ahead of first practice. After looking at the same diagram for weeks and running around the track after the first flyer’s briefing, the entire layout was engrained in Dash’s mind, but for whatever reason Fleet, Ratchett, Spanner and Concorde still insisted they stare at this diagram.

She wasn’t sure what Concorde saw, but he was sat deep in thought as his eyes slowly followed the track on the diagram. Dash just saw the track, specifically the Morning Glory section that stretched down from the first corner to the Sunrise Hairpin at the eastern end of the track. The rest of the track, if their previous practice was anything to go by, was something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

Ratchett and Spanner, who’d analysed flyers here before, had drawn slowing areas on the track map so they had an idea where they should start slowing down for the corners and where to turn, which was probably what he was trying to memorise.

Dash looked out of the open stable door towards the pit wall, noticed Mercedes looking up and down the track. In her gleaming silver racing suit with a bright red number one on her flank and her mane tied back and under the collar of her suit, she looked like a completely different mare to the one Dash had met the night before. What exactly she was looking for, Dash didn’t know, but she looked fully focused and serious.

“Can we just get on with this now?” Dust suddenly asked.

“In fifteen minutes, yes.” Spanner replied, rubbing out and re-drawing one of the lines on the map.

“We’ve been staring at this thing for half an hour already. What else do you want us to see?”

“You should memorise the track and then visualise it.” Spanner informed her.

“We did tell you that while practicing back in Ponyville.” Ratchett said.

“If you’re still uncertain, we’ll walk you through the track again.” Spanner added.

“Well go on then, tell me what I’m missing.” Dust said, folding her front legs. Ratchett and Spanner exchanged glances before the latter started talking.

“The first corner’s easier than it looks. It’s less than ninety degrees and the exit is a very careful curve out so you can go in hotter than you think.” Spanner explained.

“Its full speed all the way down the Morning Glory from there,” Ratchett continued. “carefully leaning to stay on track because someone thought it was a good idea for it to be wavy rather than perfectly straight and then slow as late and hard as you dare, though I’d advise not slowing too hard for the Sunrise Hairpin. The timing line’s actually after the hairpin, so it’s 28.63 seconds to the end of the first sector.”

“You can get up to a good speed on this straight down to the first Factory corner, which you can take at full speed and nearly reach the sound barrier before slowing for factory two.” Spanner picked back up.

“No way is that corner flat out at that speed.” Dust stated, unconvinced.

“Dust, I’ve analysed five racing ponies here. Trust me, it’s flat out.”

“Nothing to add, Corde?” Maffett asked the still silent stallion next to her, nudging him when he didn’t respond.

“Hmm?” He looked up, having come out of his trance.

“Have you got nothing to add?” Maffett asked again.

“To what?”

“Can you take this kink flat out, yes or no?” Dust asked, impatient to get an answer.

“Yeah.” He replied, looking like it was a silly question.

“Anywhere else?”

“Well, I suppose you could take the first Reservoir corner flat out if you get the line right. The second Factory corner’s more of a thing, though. You need to get slowed down as late as possible to take it properly and get thrust out of it into Factory three.”

“Lap record split is 23.43 seconds.” Ratchett added.

“Ah, now I see what page you’re on.” Concorde smiled. “Right, sector three or the Reservoir section. Factory three pretty much feeds straight into Reservoir one but not quite close enough to make it a single corner. You have to be pretty precise to do it flat out.” He said, running his hoof along the track.

“Short straight and then the second Reservoir corner, which is very long and if you go in too fast, you’ll drift out on the exit as it tightens slightly.” Spanner observed, Concorde wondering if this was meant to be some sort of verbal relay.

“Are these two meant to be taken as one corner?” Dash asked, pointing to the last two corners.

“Yep.” Concorde said simply. "Plenty of run off if it doesn't quite go right."

“Record split of 27.13, making a lap record of 1:19.19.” Ratchett added.

“Five minutes, ponies.” Fleet said, drawing their attention. They hadn’t noticed the time suddenly shoot past, unless the clock was wrong. “I want all of you out straight away, so get your helmets on.”

Without saying anything, the three went to retrieve their helmets. They already had their suits on and their spotters helped get their helmets, goggles and mouth guards on and comfortable, ensuring any electronics were activated as well.

Once Dash was ready, Ratchett turned away.

“Radio check.” He said through the helmet radio, clear as a bell.

“Working.” Dash replied. Ratchett turned back, seemingly satisfied.

“Good. I want you to take it easy and take your time to get comfortable with the track. We’ve got two hours of open practice time now and another two later, so don’t be afraid to come back in if you need to.”

“Got it.”

“Right, go down to the end of the pit lane and wait for the green flag.” He said, pointing towards the marshal holding a green flag.

Dash flew out of the stable, taking care not to go too fast as she joined the end of what was, at the moment, a short queue, Wildfire, Auroras Encore and Lotus Stream having gotten there ahead of her. She noticed a camera pony slowly scanning his way up the line and winked at it as it went past her before she did some stretches.

“Thirty seconds.” Ratchett informed Dash, reminding her of the flock of butterflies in her stomach. Practice or not, the Wonderbolts would be watching her every move and judging her accordingly.

She tried to put the thought out of her mind and had a quick look over her shoulder, seeing Concorde at the head of the rest of the queue of racing ponies, all in different colours. He just nodded to her before turning his eyes to the flag. Dash looked back at the marshal too, who was pacing up and down while likely waiting for a message.

Seemingly, the marshal got the message immediately as she waved the flag over her head to start the session, as well as the season.

Dash followed the three ahead of her out on track.

“Ok Dash,” Ratchett came over the radio. “I want you to do three steady laps to get used to the track. Don’t worry about others passing you, but it may just be worth following Concorde or one of the top guys if they come past and sticking with their pace. Don’t forget to warm up.” He added.

Dash cruised down the Morning Glory section of the track towards the hairpin, passing Wildfire as she went. Once she reached the hairpin, she tried Concorde’s turning style as she’d observed during their practice sessions in Ponyville, tilting over and carefully angling her wings to keep her going straight until she reached the corner. She was still pulling towards the corner as she tilted over, but not as severely as she had before.

Before she could turn in, however, Lightning Dust came streaming up the inside and past. Dash backed out of turning for the apex and watched her team mate hurtle off.

“Ignore her, keep as you are.” Ratchett prompted.

Dash did so, speeding up out of the hairpin and gliding down into the first Rainbow Factory corner. The violent right hoof kink didn’t look like it could be taken at speed to Dash, but she figured she could still give it a go when she started a fast lap.

She looked over her shoulder to see where Concorde was, but couldn’t see him as the pack spread itself back, seemingly looking for space.

Dash carried on, pressing hard as she came out of the last corner, across the line and onto her first timed lap. She tried to emulate Concorde’s turning style again, banking fully before turning into the corner before she realised someone was coming back on track. She backed her speed down so she could stay tighter and avoid flying into whoever it was.

“Hey, was that Dust?” She asked after she got a look at the helmet on her way past.

“Yes. I’m guessing she went wide.” Ratchett stated. “Just focus on yourself for now and completing some laps.”

She hurtled off down the Morning Glory section of track, hitting the sound barrier a third of the way down. The subtle left, right and left she needed to do down the track felt wrong to her. She could handle big, bold movement but this careful leaning felt uncomfortably out of her control. The feeling lasted long enough to make her forget there was a hair pin and she slowed far too late, finding herself in the middle of the run off before she was slow enough to make the turn.

She re-joined the track slightly ahead of a pack of flyers and headed for the right hoof kink that was the first of the Factory corners. Concorde insisted it was a flat out corner, so she went for it as she tilted in, narrowly missing the apex and just about going off track as she came out of the turn. It appeared he was right if she got the line right.

Her confidence going up somewhat, she slowed for the second Factory corner and was almost instantly passed by three others. They hurled themselves into the corners, seemingly getting enough lift to easily make it through far faster than Dash could. She was left dumbfounded as she took the third and final corner of the factory complex, another flyer going past her on the exit again with more speed through the corner.

Now slightly annoyed, she chased after the last pony to pass her, who turned out to be Mercedes after she noticed the number. The first corner that was the Reservoir complex was a quick right hoof corner that fitted Dash’s big and bold style and she was able to match Mercedes through it, but as soon as they reached the long, tightening second Reservoir corner Mercedes pulled away , losing Dash completely by the time they reached the double apexes final corner. Dash threw herself into the corner, hitting the first apex before missing the second one by a long way, going off track and nearly hitting the grand stand.

“Dash, you need to take this slowly.” Ratchett said as she returned to the track, several others going past her on the start finish straight. “You need to complete some clean laps. Do not concern yourself with the others.”

“Yeah, got it.” She replied, though she didn’t really believe herself. She shuck her head clear, reminding herself she was much better than that lap showed and headed off onto a new one.

***

Her laps improved over the next twenty minutes as she made fewer and fewer mistakes, starting to trust her wings a bit more to find lift in the corners. She was still horrendously slow through the factory and reservoir complexes, but at least she was obliterating everyone down the Morning Glory.

After losing out to a pack of five other flyers in the reservoir complex, she followed them onto the next lap and onto the Morning Glory, a grin creeping onto her face as she was about to show them just how fast she was. In turn as they got a third of the way down the Morning Glory, they each hit the sound barrier and delivered another shocking reminder of what she was up against.

The turbulence hit her like a brick wall, the impact nearly knocking her clean out of the air. She survived, but her wings weren’t able to keep up with the punishment as they were so she dived off line and slowed down, hoping no one was there as she dropped below sonic speeds.

“You’re clear behind.” Ratchett said, answering her question before she asked it. “You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just,” Dash paused for a moment, searching for a suitable word. “surprised.”

“I’ve been told the first time in multiple sonic wakes is quite scary, congrats on not face planting. Did you catch where about you ran into the turbulence?”

“Er, no.”

“We’ll have to work it out so you can brace yourself. Try and get into another group and find out.”

“How’s my lap times looking?”

“They’re not important at the moment. We’ll work on lap times later, for now get yourself in a group.”

“Got it.” She replied before exiting the hair pin and chasing off after the pack ahead. She did want to know her times, that was the whole point of these two hours to her, but she knew she’d find out eventually.

Dash continued around the lap, expecting to see the pack she had been in before too long, but they never materialized. Even once she reached the Morning Glory she couldn’t see them, so she flapped her wings as hard as she could in order to get up to full speed on the straightish section. She kept an eye out for a possible marker as she approached the sound barrier, noticing a marshal’s post next to the track as she broke the barrier and hurtled off down the track.

As she approached the hairpin, she thought about where to slow down. The pack she had been in still wasn’t in sight so she figured she may as well try something unrelated. She hadn’t been at full speed on her own through this corner yet, so she looked for her own markers to slow down, finding a suitable one with one of the distance marker boards and slowed down, using her whole body as well as her wings as a wind brake. It felt like the entire content of her body wanted to be torn out of her face and chest as she came to a near halt, when she allowed herself to return to a glide. She felt sick and surprisingly dizzy as her vision returned to normal, making her realize she’d slowed far too early as she glided through the corner.

“That looked severe.” Ratchett commented. “You ok?”

Dash swallowed, nausea getting to her. “No.” She replied, almost feebly.

“Right, take it easy for a lap or two, or you can come in for a rest and we’ll have a look at your footage.”

“I’ll keep going.” Dash replied, surprisingly already feeling better. It must have been the surprise of such heavy and sudden g-force she figured as she picked up her speed again, making a mental note to slow down less abruptly next time.

***

Dash continued around, largely on her own, for the next half an hour, not getting a chance to follow anyone down the Morning Glory as she’d frequently lose them through the rest of the track.

Ratchett advised her to return to the pits so they could go over her footage and work out how to improve, so she entered the pits and glided into the team’s stable. Ratchett had already run into the stable ahead of her and flung open a laptop computer as she landed, her legs nearly not taking her weight.

Ratchett took Dash’s helmet off before she had time to realize he was doing so and connected it to the computer.

“Right. Now we’ve finally got two cameras in this thing, we can see exactly what you’re doing in both directions.” He said, though Dash still didn’t see the need for it.

He set the laptop to play footage from both cameras, slightly out of sync. She watched her forwards facing camera, still not seeing the point of the rear facing one, the scenery at the side of the track hurtling past on the Morning Glory before she suddenly broke the sound barrier and blasted forwards even faster.

Without thinking, she rewound the footage to just before she broke the sound barrier and studied the image, looking for a good marker.

“Post five.” She said to Ratchett, who was watching her. “I break the sound barrier about there.”

“Good spot. I think that’s where most ponies are breaking the barrier.” Ratchett said, seemingly allowing his knowledge out now Dash had made that revelation. “It’s never particularly consistent where the sound barrier gets broken due to air density.”

Dash pondered that nugget of information. She’d never considered air density before when performing the Sonic Rainboom and may explain a few of the times it went wrong.

“You know what Dash, I think it might help you to stay in here for a bit and watch some of the onboard footage we have for the different flyers. Might help.”

***

Dash did as Ratchett suggested, pointing out and asking questions of him whenever she saw something of interest. Concorde joined her fifteen minutes later, re-watching his own footage to see where he could go quicker.

“You’ve not told us,” Dash asked him, nudging him to make sure she had his attention. “But why do you watch your rear facing camera more than your front facing?”

“I’m watching my wings, seeing where they are when I take a corner to see if they’re well positioned or not.”

“Speaking of which, Dash,” Ratchett chipped in. “I’ve noticed you tend to keep your wings very rigid when cornering. Try relaxing them a bit more.”

Dash nodded. Ratchett had mentioned that to her before but trying to actively think about ‘relaxing’ her wings while cornering had resulted in a few crashes already.

“She’s going in there pretty-” Concorde started before wincing. Dash looked at the screen he was watching which showed Dust’s front facing camera, now on the floor and facing a barrier. She quickly got back up and continued around the track, shaking her head in frustration.

The four in the stable watched the rest of her lap as she turned off the track and entered the pits, turning to meet her as she glided in and landed awkwardly.

“You ok?” Concorde asked , though he didn’t get a response. Spanner didn’t say anything either as he came in from the pit wall and helped Dust take her helmet off.

“You’re pushing too hard, Dust.” Spanner said simply. “You’ll make mistakes like that if you push too hard.”

“I’m getting annihilated out there.” Dust said angrily. “I’m doing all I can to keep up.”

“Then you’re obviously doing the wrong things.” Concorde said matter-of-factly, which earned him a furious look from Dust. “Besides the Morning Glory, you're nowhere. I nearly flew into you through the factories.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“From what I saw when following you into the second Factory corner, here.” He continued, pointing to the monitors as they showed their footage of going through the corner once Spanner plugged Dust’s helmet in. Concorde took a huge amount more speed through it then Dust or Dash did and seemed to turn more suddenly. “You’re almost dawdling through it, waiting for yourself to slow down to turn.”

“So what do you do, then?” Dash asked, annoyed and curious in equal measure.

“Well, something that’s true for everyone is we’ve all got all this useless weight we’re dragging around.” Concorde explained, drawing a line down Dust’s back, as she’d sat to him, from her between her wings to the base of her tail, taking her by surprise. “So what we want to do is make some use of it.”

“In what way?” Dust shot at him, moving her hind away from him.

“Simple: Swing your ass around. Tilt in, start turning and throw your hind out and you could even turn on a blade of grass if you do it right. It’s not a technique you need everywhere, the Sunrise Hairpin’s too wide for it for example, but for short, tight corners like this one and to an extent turn one it works a treat.”

“He just wants to see you shaking that ass.” Maffett injected.

“What? Am I not allowed to appreciate such things all of a sudden? Better than your fat hind.” He replied.

“Which is better than your bony butt.” Maffett retorted.

“Touché, ginger snaps”

“I had been wondering about that.” Dash suddenly injected. “You’re appetite’s almost as big as Applejack’s and you’ve hardly got any muscle on you.”

“Lucky, I suppose.” He shrugged, unsure what exactly to say to that. "Try and make sure I don't eat too many sweets and pies."

“When you’re quite done,” Fleet injected, drawing their attention. She'd been sat with Ratchett, Spanner and Maffett on the pit wall but now had come over. “There’s thirty minutes of the session left so I want you all out there.”

The three nodded and went to get their helmets. Dash got herself ready first and glided out of the stable, taking a moment to look down the pit lane before getting onto it and heading onto the fairly clear track.

“You’re currently one of four flyers on track, but it looks like the others are on their way out too. Track should be full in a minute or so.” Ratchett informed Dash as she warmed up down the Morning Glory, staying out of the way as Power Drive came hurtling past.

She carried on around the track and out of the hair pin, deciding to put on a burst of speed ahead of the factory complex to try what Concorde had suggested. She banged into the high speed kink that was Factory one and lined herself up for Factory two, banking over and allowing herself to get pulled towards the apex. Just as she approached, she threw out her hind and spun on the tip of her wing, almost completely out of control.

After three complete spins, she regained control and stopped herself, now somewhat dizzy and facing back down the track in the run off area, Dawn Wisp looking over to see what had happened as he went past. She shuck her head clear and re-joined behind him, though he quickly got away.

“That looked severe.” Ratchett remarked.

“Threw myself in too hard.” Dash replied, carrying on around the lap as she previously had.

“It’s a subtle and precise art; you’ll get the hang of it.” Ratchett said. “You’ve got five seconds behind you to Lotus Stream and Riggwelter, so go at your own pace to the chequered flag.”

***

Shortly after the session ended, the three flyers sat around the table in their stable, going over several sheets of times. Concorde was focused as he usually was when reviewing his own performance, while Dash and Dust just stared disbelievingly at their own times.

They were slowest by a long way, over a second slower than the next flyer. If they had been qualifying, they wouldn’t have been allowed to race they were so slow. They were fastest in the speed trap down the Morning Glory, but over the rest of the lap they were haemorrhaging time.

“Don’t look so glum.” Fleet said, checking their times. “Considering this is your first time racing, that’s pretty good.”

“We’re slow.” Dash said simply, propping her head up with her hooves.

“You are, but you know why.” Spanner injected. “It’s far worse when you’re slow and you don’t know why.”

Dash looked at the break down of her fastest lap again. She had been fourteenth fastest in the first sector, mainly because of the first corner and hairpin slowing her down and lost three seconds in the second sector, the Factory complex, and five seconds in the Reservoir complex that was sector three.

“We’ve got another session of practice this afternoon.” Ratchett reminded her. “I want you to watch Concorde’s footage and look at where he slows and turns for corners. Should help you in the second and third sectors.”

Author's Note

For those curious, Cloudsdale Racing Circuit is based on the current layout of the Hockenhiemring, Germany with the hairpin from Circuit de Gilles Villeneuve, Canada.

ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Qualifying

A few hours after concluding first practice, the racers returned to the track for second practice . Dash had spent some time going up and down an empty area of the paddock slowing and flicking herself around by just throwing her hind out and thought she’d gotten a good handle on the technique, ignoring the cameras watching her.

Going onto her first timed lap of the session, she made sure to aim for the right part of the first corner to turn, spreading her front legs out to produce enough drag to slow down, tilted over to start turning and carefully flicked her hind to turn sharply, flicking it back to counteract the movement. She missed the apex of the corner by a half a length, but she was perfectly pointed down the Morning Glory and going much faster than she had done.

A huge grin spread across her face as she hurtled down the near straight section of track, hitting the sound barrier sooner than she had previously and getting closer to the next pony on track; Quicksilver. Putting him out of her mind for the time being, she spread herself out to slow down quickly, but not as drastically as she had done, tilting into the Sunrise Hairpin and thrusting her way through and out onto the straight that led to the Factory complex of corners.

Coming up on the kink that was Factory One, she started to glide before tilting in, not losing any speed as she glanced the apex and exited the corner perfectly. Ahead was the really difficult corner, Factory Two, and she focused on the line, slowing down a bit more and throwing her hind into the corner as she tilted. She was a bit slow to counteract it, but she was still pointed in more or less the right direction and going faster as she headed to Factory three. She was going a bit too fast for the corner, she realized, so she spread out her front legs to slow down and turned in.

Tilting into the fast corner that was Reservoir one, Quicksilver had gotten away from her somewhat, but she was still going much faster than she had in first practice. Reservoir two was still an awkward corner she wasn’t sure of, but she kept some increased drag up to get through it quicker than she had, but seemingly slower than Quicksilver as he disappeared around the final corner.

After getting up to and back down to the right speed between corners, she tilted in, clipping the first apex, the outside of the corner and then the second apex as she completed the lap.

“Much better!” Ratchett immediately commented. “That was a 1:25.9, over three seconds faster than anything you did earlier, but I think you can do better.”

“And I will.” Dash smirked as she started her next lap.

***

Consistently doing fast laps was proving more difficult than Dash thought it might. She could consistently pull off tricks when performing, but performance flying didn’t throw in the occasional wildcard of other ponies trying to do the same thing in the same airspace.

Ratchett insisted she stay out for as long as possible as a form of race simulation, her lap times fluctuating by about a second either way depending on who she found on track to pass or get passed by and her general exhaustion. Now she’d been practicing racing for months, she didn’t feel as exhausted as she had done before but the strain was still getting to her a bit.

Flying around on what she forcefully recalled was her thirty second lap, she followed Concorde through the Reservoir section after he’d passed her in the Factory complex. His times were not only consistent, but over a second faster than her own, mostly through these complexes as they went to end the lap.

Going through the last corner, she saw him wobble slightly as he passed the first apex, a wobble that intensified as he fought against it before losing control and slamming into the track, sliding onto the run off area as Dash went past. She looked over her shoulder as a couple marshals rushed over to him.

“twenty five, seven.” Ratchett informed her as she crossed the line, the one minute being a given now. “Focus forwards, you may catch Riggwelter on this lap.”

“Is Concorde ok?” She found herself asking.

“He is, though I think that’s the end of his practice.”

Dash knew landing on your wing like that was painful and could easily fracture a bone. However, the ECRL employed a near army of skilled Unicorn medics who could fix such fractures quickly, if incredibly painfully.

As she went past one of the big screens, which were set up for the crowd’s convenience, she had a quick glance as she’d noticed a few other flyers doing. She had hoped to see what happened to Concorde, but instead it showed someone’s helmet camera footage, though she didn’t know who or where they were. Putting the incident out of her mind, she continued on for the remaining thirty minutes.

***

1:26.1, 1:25.8, 1:26.0, 1:25.7, Dash was getting a bit more consistent, but she hadn’t gone any faster than the 1:22.5 she set at the midway point of the session, or even matched it. After a glance at one of the big screens, she realised she was twenty first fastest, which wasn’t any good but she was at least ahead of Lightning Dust in twenty third.

While gliding around to get ready for her last fast lap, she glanced up again at the screen to see what the fastest time was and saw, to her surprise, the camera focused on Dust as she set nineteenth fastest time at 1:25.0.

“Where was Dust faster than me?” She immediately asked Ratchett.

“She found that time in sector three.” He replied after a moment to check.

As she was coming into the Reservoir sector, she started to pick up speed to go onto her last fast lap, seeing no one was ahead of her to get in the way.

She hurtled into the last corner to get a good run onto her lap, banking hard and clipping the first apex perfectly before she realised something wrong; her inside wing felt light and she was tilting further into the corner then she intended. Trying to correct the problem, she flapped her inside wing hard but that sent her rolling in the other way too fast to react too and she slammed down hard on her other wing, rolling across the run off area and into the barrier.

“Dash, you ok?” Ratchett asked as Dash shuck her head clear, the marshals already there to help her up. She was immediately aware of the sharp pain in her left wing, having landed on it.

“Hurt my wing.” She informed him as she was helped off track. Concorde was still stood there having crashed earlier.

“You alright, Dash?” He asked, though she didn’t feel like answering him. What had she done to end up crashing like that? While she thought, the unicorn medic examined her wing.

“Relax, Rainbow Dash.” He told her, reassuringly. “You’ve fractured the ulna in your wing and I’m going to fuse it. This will hurt.” He added before going to work.

It was almost like someone was drawing a white hot poker along the bone as the fracture was fused back together. She’d experienced the feeling before, but it didn’t make it any less pleasant as the medic took three minutes over the healing.

“Done.” He informed her eventually. “You’ll be ready to go for qualifying tomorrow.”

“Did you see what happened?” She asked Concorde.

“So far as I could tell, you made the same mistake I did.” He shrugged. “Only difference is you reacted fast enough to try and counter it, if a bit much.”

“What was your mistake?”

“I don’t really know, just one of those things that happens when you’re pushing hard. I need to have a look at my replay to have a better idea.”

***

After watching the remainder of the session, Concorde and Rainbow Dash made their way back to their team stable. Lightning Dust was reading over her times, not looking up when her team mates returned. Dash looked over her shoulder at them while Concorde immediately went to their track map and started discussing with Ratchett and Spanner how some of the other flyers took the last two corners.

Having missed out the last thirty minutes, Concorde’s fastest time left him seventeenth, only point four of a second ahead of Dust in nineteenth. After her own mistake, Dash ended up twenty third, a result that annoyed her after she’d improved so much.

Maffett set up the laptops and plugged in the helmet cameras to view the footage, prodding Concorde to get his attention when they were set up.

Concorde fast forwarded through his footage to the point he crashed. He banked into the corner and soon the camera shuck side to side before he slammed down on the track, his inside wing not able to provide the lift he wanted and giving up on him.

“Very sudden.” He mused, watching as his inside wing seemed to push against nothing before he landed on his back. “Didn’t think anything of the wobble when it happened.”

“I think it was wind. There were a few complaints of wind between the grandstands there and a few others wobbled and crashed.” Spanner informed them as Ratchett fast forwarded through Dash’s footage.

Compared to Concorde’s, her footage showed her flying to be slightly more erratic then his, but at least she wasn’t miles slower than him this time. Eventually they reached her crash, which appeared to be identical to Concorde’s only she rolled over the other way and tumbled across the run off area after trying to correct herself.

“Well, the problem was you were flapping about.” Fleet observed, the replay showing Dash rolling across the run off area. “Sometimes it’s better to let yourself crash to avoid injury.”

“I didn’t let myself crash.” Concorde protested.

“No, but you didn’t fight against it. You weren’t injured, after all.”

“Does pride count?”

“Seriously though, Dash,” Fleet continued, ignoring Concorde. “Best course of action is to level out or let yourself crash, brush yourself off and carry on. You can easily get out of sliding across the track without injury but if you end up rolling then you’re almost guaranteed to hurt yourself and have to retire from the race.”

“I’m fine now, it’s no biggie.” Dash said.

“Maybe not, but it can take very little to injury yourself enough to not be able to race. Some ponies can cart wheel through a gravel trap and slam into a tyre wall without serious injury and some can barely glance a wall and be left unable to fly for months. The pair of you were lucky.”

“Thanks for that reassuring speech.” Concorde said sarcastically. “Want to warn us about the dangers of ramps and stairs next?”

“I want you to review every single note and detail we have and consider how you can improve before we head off for the night. We’ve got qualifying tomorrow and you’ll need to put together the fastest laps you can.”

***

Dash stood in the stable the next day, waiting with her team mates for qualifying to start. They’d already been out on track for morning warm up and now they were ready for an hour long session to determine the grid order for the race the next day.

Fleet’s words from the previous day had stuck with Dash. She’d had some pretty big crashes in the past and got away with limited injury before eventually breaking her wing completely in a fairly minor accident.

They were playing with incredibly small percentages here, walls never far away and there was no worse way to put herself out of contention for joining the Wonderbolts then having a crash that would put her out of several races.

To that end, she’d been taking the last corner more carefully and coming away a lot slower, putting her back in the 1:30 range she had originally started in. According to Ratchett, the pole position time was likely to be below 1:20 and her warm up times put her at risk of not qualifying for the race at all, which worried her further.

“One minute!” Fleet informed them over the radio. The flock of butterflies in Dash’s stomach got more intense, reminding her of their presence.

“Best of luck, mares.” Concorde said before putting on his goggles and flying out of the stable to join the increasing queue of ponies. The crow was getting larger and louder, cheering as ponies joined the line to get out on track.

Dash swallowed her nerves as best as she could, put on her goggles and joined the queue, the crowd roaring again. At least a third of the field had already lined up ahead of her and were busy stretching. Dash stretched her wings and her legs, trying to focus on what she had to do.

“Thirty seconds to go.” Ratchett informed her, which only broke her focus. “Wind has been confirmed to be non-existent, the gaps around Reservoir three closed up so I want you to attack that corner again on each lap. You were losing most of your time in the Reservior complex.”

The reminder wasn’t welcome, those corners being the bane of her existence here.

“Green flag, off you go.” Ratchett said over the comm as Dash saw the marshal waving a flag to start the session.

***

Dash stayed out on track for the whole session, completing several short, fast stints of three laps before resting for a lap. As per the rules, Ratchett informed her of any Pegasus on a fast lap coming up behind her and she dutifully got out of the way, knowing if she impeded their lap she would be put to the back of the grid.

Her fast laps weren’t good, going back to her first practice times when she was miles away from the pace of the next Pegasus. According to Ratchett, it was all down to the last sector of the track, where he kept encouraging her to attack but that seemed to be getting her nowhere as she ran wide in Reservoir two and was worried about troubling the wall again in Reservoir three.

Towards the end of a slow lap, she followed Mercedes through the Reservoir section after she passed her. It seemed in Reservoir two the reigning champion used her front legs to pull herself in, seemingly blocking the airflow from fully getting to her inside wing before slowing and flicking herself into the tightest part of corner.

The technique enabled Mercedes to take far more speed into the corner then Dash had, so she made a note to try it on the next lap.

The next lap was a bit sloppy, with a mistake in the Sunrise Hairpin and missing the apex of both Factory One and Three, but as she went into Reservoir two, she held her front left leg out as she glided into the corner, the drag causing her to turn tighter without losing much speed. As she reached the tightest part of the corner, she flicked her hind out slightly and back again when she was pointed in the right direction and thrust her way out of it, knowing she had gone much faster through that corner then she had before.

“Dash, you’re up but you’re still losing time in the last sector.” Ratchett said, starting to sound more urgent. “We’ve got three minutes left.”

Three minutes already?! Where had the time gone? Almost panicking, she threw herself at the last corner without even a thought and powered onto a new lap.

She barely registered what she did through the Morning Glory sector, no massive mistakes to worry about as she headed into the Factory complex. She could see a few ponies ahead of her on quick laps and a few doing slow laps and staying out of the way. Factory Two proved as awkward as ever, especially with Ratchett giving her a breakdown of her sector times but she ignored him as she continued.

Hurtling through Reservoir one, Dash had to nearly come to a complete stop as she found another pony going slowly ahead of her.

“Oh, sweet Celestia!” Dash shouted to herself, noticing the number of the slow pony and realising it was Aperto. He looked over his shoulder, realising what had happened and got out of the way, beckoning her through into Reservoir two.

“Push, Dash! You were up on that lap!” Ratchett practically shouted as she picked up speed again. That lap was a bust now as she went through the last corner onto what would be her last lap.

She threw herself into the first corner, not scrubbing off much speed but still getting through as she hurtled down the Morning Glory, a couple other ponies moving aside as she hit the sound barrier. She realised how desperate the situation was; she simply couldn’t fail to qualify for her first race as she reached the Sunrise Hairpin and slowed as late as she could, the queasy feeling returning as she banked in and thrust herself out as fast as possible.

Ignoring what Ratchett was saying she kept pushed, slightly missing the apex of the kink and then throwing herself slightly too hard into Factory two. She didn’t lose too much speed though as she went through Factory three.

Dash ignored the latest split time Ratchett provided again, not wanting near crippling news as she went as fast as she could into the Reservoir complex, slowing through Reservoir two with a quick flick to get herself directed out of the tightest part of the corner. Focused fully, she went into the final two corners as fast as she could, slowing slightly before banking, clipping the first apex, the outside and then the second apex and flapping with all her might to get to the finish line. The chequered flag was waving as she went past, which was when she stopped flapping and started to glide, relaxing her body.

“Twenty one, one, Dash. Great work.” Ratchett said, sighing with relief. Dash sighed as well, relieved her efforts paid off and she’d qualified with her fastest lap yet.

“So where am I?”

“Unfortunately twenty forth.” Ratchett replied, which replaced Dash’s relief with confusion and annoyance. “But you’re only a one point four seconds off the pole time. Any minor improvement could put you up several places.”

“Where’s Dust and Concorde?”

“Twenty third and twelfth respectively. Seems Hest felt like playing with Corde and blocked a faster lap time. Between him and Aperto getting in your way, you should be twenty second for the race.

“You qualified with your first lap on the last run. I reckon your second lap would have been your fastest if you didn’t run into Aperto.” Ratchett continued, Dash slightly reassured she still had more speed to make use out of.

She continued to glide around the track, the crowd around her politely applauding as she went past. She waved to them and a few even waved back, a few of them she noticed wearing Wonderbolts caps. She felt a bit better knowing there was some support for her and her team in the crowd now and she was filled with excitement for the race tomorrow.

Author's Note

Qualifying Order:
1. Zip Line (1:19.789)
2. Mercedes
3. Wolke
4. Ekstrom
5. Jorge
6. Rossi
7. Power Drive
8. Quicksilver
9. Blitzen
10. Typhoon
11. Velocidade
12. Concorde
13. Auroras Encore
14. Dawn Wisp
15. Wildfire
16. Skyline
17. Leciec
18. Red Rum
19. Lotus Stream
20. Riggwelter
21. Lightning Dust
22. Rainbow Dash
23. Nicki Hest (penalty)
24. Aperto Jnr (penalty)

ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Build Up

Inside the meeting room on top of the stables early on the morning of the race, all the racers and their spotters were sat milling around and talking ahead of the flyer’s briefing, which took place to discuss any significant issues and remind the flyers of a few procedures.

“Good morning, mares and gentlecolts.” The head official Whiting said loudly and clearly, cutting through the chatter which died soon after.

“We have a few things to discuss ahead of the race. First of all, I’d like to welcome you all back to Cloudsdale, especially our five rookies competing for the first time in the Equestrian Cloud Racing League. As this is the first race meeting of the season, there will be no wildcards competing.

“Secondly, I’d like to remind you all of the rules governing retiring from a race. Simple rule is, if you are pulled off the track and behind the safety barriers, you are officially out of the race and you cannot re-join.”

Dust just leaned back in her chair, looking at a vague detail in how the ceiling was put together as Whiting talked about track limits being under close scrutiny, any repeated violations resulting in a ‘glide through’ of the pit lane.

They hadn’t even started the first race and she was already bored of this charade, though it hadn’t been without it’s amusements. Concorde had been furious after qualifying when Nicki Hest seemingly intentionally held him up and had paced around the stable looking to take his anger out on something before calming down and being his usual annoying self.

She had considered simply grabbing Spitfire and showing her the top secret move she had worked on since she had been able to break the sound barrier. Her Lightning Corkscrew could easily blow Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom and Concorde’s pathetic Scarlet Boom out of the water and could give her the path into the Wonderbolts she had always dreamed of, to be the greatest Pegasus to ever join their ranks and loved by both the team and the fans. That was her dream and nothing was going to stop her getting it.

Spanner gave her a nudge and she looked at him, annoyed he disturbed her.

“What?” She whispered to him.

“You should pay attention, this is important.” He whispered back. She didn’t care much but did as he said, not paying attention to those looking at her.

“Finally,” Whiting continued. “The weather will be maintained as sunshine and no wind throughout the weekend, but be prepared for any unexpected gusts of wind similar to what happened during Practice Two, we are miles in the air after all. Any questions?”

The room remained quiet and still as Whiting looked around.

“Very well, that concludes this morning’s briefing. I look forwards to seeing you all on track.”

***

As the Wonderhawks walked back to the stable after the briefing, Dash noticed one of the groups of TV presenters nearby, discussing something with a two pony camera crew. Consisting of Perri, DC and Jordan, a female Earth pony, a male Pegasus with a jaw that seemed too big for his face and an oldish Griffin in a bright shirt, glasses and sporting a rather cool moustache and beard.

“Don’t forget, the EBC over there want to interview you guys before the race.” Fleet reminded them as she let them into the stable.

“Well, if anything, talking to DC and Jordan should be fun.” Concorde commented, looking as uncomfortable as usual at the idea of having a TV camera in his face.

“Concorde, Dust, Dash!” Someone called to them and when they looked over, they saw the Griffin Jordan walking over to them. “Could I get a few minutes?”

“Erm, ok.” The three of them said pretty much in unison after exchanging glances.

“We’re not going to do anything live.” He added reassuringly. Perri and DC had gone off to do something else while the camera pony milled about. “I’m just curious enough to know you three.”

Fleetfoot walked around and stood next to the camera pony who was checking his schedule, giving the flyers a look that suggested she was mainly there to make sure they kept their tongues in check.

“Let’s see,” Jordan pondered out load, referring to a clipboard. “This is what I know of you three: Concorde, you’ve been performing with the Red Hawks since their return after spending much of your youth racing, forming quite the rivalry with Wolke Schwade.”

“That’s pretty much bang on.” Concorde replied.

“Lightning Dust, your grandfather was Lightning Charger, former captain of the Wonderbolts and you yourself attended the Wonderbolts Academy and proceeded to break records from the start, more so when partnered with Rainbow Dash.”

“Yeah.” Dust replied, prideful.

“And Rainbow Dash, currently the only pony capable of the fabled Sonic Rainboom Princess Celestia seems quite fond off, you won the Young Flyers Competition a few years ago in Cloudsdale and have since, of course, been to the Wonderbolts Academy and broke records in your partnership with Lightning Dust.”

“Don’t forget I’m the fastest Pegasus pony here.” Dash added as she had been fastest in the speed trap on the Morning Glory the entire time.

“I suppose that’s true. However, now you’ve had a taste of the track and your opposition, how do you think you’ll do this year?” He asked the three of them.

“Well, to be honest I’m surprised I’m so far up the order.” Concorde admitted. “Didn’t think I’d be anywhere near the top ten. I just came in with a ‘let’s see how I do’ mentality.”

“I’m with Corde on that.” Dash said. “I didn’t really know what I was up against, seeing as I’ve not done this sort of thing before but I think I can do something.”

“I’m still aiming for the top.” Dust said flatly, Dash and Concorde looking at her. “Just might take longer than I thought.”

“Good, good.” Jordan mused as he scribbled a few notes. “I’m going to keep an eye on the three of you as you’re probably going to be the most interesting story all year. The three of you are talented no doubt and I’d give you a shot if I knew about you. For performance flyers, you two are especially impressive.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dust inquired.

“Performance teams aren’t known for speed, but after being seconds off qualifying pace in first practice, the pair of you turned it around instantly in second practice and were within qualifying pace. That’s a big turnaround, though I’m interested to see how you do with hundreds of a second are involved.

“I might come and talk to one of you on the grid, but for now it was good talking to you.” Jordan smiled. “Spanner, I’ll talk to you later as well.” He added, quickly going over to and shaking the unicorn’s hoof.

Jordan and his camera crew walked off in the opposite direction to his co-presenters, likely to cover something else. Dash couldn’t help but think he’d misinterpreted what style was and that Rarity would probably consider him a crime against fashion. She was going to ask Concorde if Jordan always dressed that ridiculously before she realised he seemed to have frozen in some sort of fan boy trance.

“Er, Corde? You there?” Dash asked, waving her hoof in front of his face without getting a response.

“I think the fact Jordan would have considered him for his team has gotten to him.” Maffett remarked.

“He was a team owner Spanner worked for, right?” Dust asked, looking at her spotter.

“He was and probably the best team owner I ever worked for.” Spanner nodded. “He always chose racers on talent, rubbing up a few Ponys and even Griffins the wrong way when he refused the money they offered. That’s pretty high praise if he’s interested in all three of you.”

“We might just need a bucket of water to wake Concorde up, though.” Ratchett added. Dash, Dust and Maffett exchanged evil glances and immediately made it happen.

***

While throwing what turned out to be five full water buckets at Concorde was fun, it did nothing to diminish Dash’s raising nerves. The race was so close yet so far away at this point that she dearly wanted to get it over and done with, just to relieve the nerves.

Before getting suited up, Fleetfoot had insisted the team visit their VIP room, which was situated above their stable. Their turnout hadn’t been great, Concorde’s and Dash’s parents all busy and unable to make it, as was Twilight Sparkle while Pinkie Pie hadn’t given a reason why she couldn’t come. The late arriving Applejack had headed off to set up a stall behind one of the grandstands, leaving Big Machintosh, Rarity and Fluttershy as the familiar faces watching her race.

The Wonderbolts were set to join them after their pre-race performance, but some of the Red Hawks had also arrived to watch. Whilst worrying about the race, Dash hadn’t remembered their names but she still found it amusing to watch Rarity swoon over the Italian member of the team.

The whole time in the VIP room had pasted in some sort of haze. Being reminded these ponies were watching her made her more nervous, especially when Red Hawks leader Hurricane gave her a quick bit of critique about her performance in practice. If he could spot all her mistakes as an observer, what could someone like him do with all the footage and notes they took?

Sometime later, though Dash wasn’t sure how much later, the three ponies were suited up and waiting in their stable uncomfortably. In the next ten minutes, they were go fly out of the stable, fly around the track and land on their grid spot ahead of a proper formation lap and finally the start of the race. Dash didn’t see the point but was at least enjoying watch Concorde be incredibly nervous. After pacing around the stable and occasionally going to use the ‘facilities’, he eventually headed for a guitar he had brought with him but so far not touched.

“Do you have to play that?” Maffett asked as Concorde picked up his guitar and arranged himself.

“The alternative is sit here panicking, so yes.” He retorted before strumming it. At least one of the strings was out of tune, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he started playing what sounded like a poor ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’.

Maffett headed for the pit wall, likely to go over her own notes as Rainbow just sat and thought. Beforehand, she hadn’t been overly bothered about the ECRL and thought she could win it easily.

Now she was here, less than twenty minutes from her first race, in front of not only her home town but in front of her idols as well who’d be scrutinising her every move, she couldn’t help but think ‘what if I screwed this up?’.

She could already picture them, judging her from high above as they cast shadows across her, saying she wasn’t good enough, that she wasn’t even worthy of being a Pegasus and taking her wings away and casting her down the deepest, darkest hole there was.

“You ok there, Rainbow?” Ratchett asked, ignoring the mistakes Concorde was making and snapping Dash out of her thoughts.

“Y-y-yeah. I’m fine.” Rainbow replied with a fake grin.

“Look, Dash, this is your first race. I know you’ve done the Young Flyers competition, but this is a completely different kettle of kelp. Remember, we’re not here to set Equestria alight, we’re here to finish the race. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Rainbow looked off towards the grandstand opposite their stable. There were plenty of different banners with different names, numbers and messages but their cheering just felt heavy to her, as if it was a weight she didn’t want to carry.

“Don’t worry about them. Even if something does go wrong, they won’t remember it.” Ratchett added before Concorde hit a string so massively out of tune it set their teeth on edge.

Ratchett magically retuned the string from where he was stood which made Concorde shoot him an annoyed look before he continued playing. He still couldn’t play very well, but at least he was in tune now.

“Here, I’ve got a music player in my bag if you want to listen to something and relax a bit?” Ratchett offered. Normally she’d brush such a suggestion off, but she knew she really needed to remain calm.

“Yeah, sure.”

Ratchett smiled before going over to the rucksack he had brought. Almost at the same moment, Spanner ran in and over to his own rucksack.

“What are you doing?” Ratchett asked.

“Getting my cassette player to help Lightning calm down.”

“You’re really going to struggling to shake that ‘Dupont et Dupond’ label now, colts.” Concorde commented before carrying on playing.

“We’re nothing alike!” Ratchett and Spanner retorted angrily in unison before returning to what they were doing.

Dash listened to Ratchett’s music, which seemed to consist of Roxy Music, Angelic Upstarts and Concrete Blonde. Eventually though, he took it off her and sent her out on track to go around to her grid spot.

“Dash.” Ratchett said over the radio as she glided up the Morning Glory. “Stop by Marshal Post seven and do a practice start.”

She did as he said, pulling to the left side of the track where a few racers were stopping to do the same thing. She landed next to Typhoon, who was waving to the crowd.

“Have you seen this?” Typhoon asked Dash as she prepared herself for a practice start, as if asked to confirm he wasn’t mad. She looked past him to see Pinkie Pie sat at the top of the grandstand with seemingly every instrument she owned, playing loudly enough to drown out everyone around her.

Dash couldn’t help but laugh. She had offered Pinkie a VIP pass which she declined at the time without giving a reason, but she was no glad to see her friend there causing her usual ruckus. She quickly waved to her before going back to her preparations, jumping hard off a make shift wedge of cloud and flapping her wings as hard as possible, seemingly getting a good start compared to Typhoon who did a practice start at the same time.

***

Waiting on the grid was a nightmare. All around Dash were TV crews, support crews, models holding grid numbers and celebrates floated about asking questions and providing information, even when the regional anthem was played. She had wanted to watch the Wonderbolts as they performed but it took all the effort she had to focus on what Ratchett was telling her.

He laid out various scenarios for the start and what to do. Apparently her practice start had been pretty good and he was confident she could make a good start, but he also warned her about doing so and getting in the middle of the pack as it squeezed together into the first corner.

Dash really wanted a distraction of some sort to try and calm herself and she noticed one of the EBC presenters, DC, interviewing Aperto and Nicki Hest who were lined up on the grid to her right side. Once he’d finished speaking to Nicki, he headed towards Dash.

“Rainbow Dash, quick word?” DC asked, looking hopeful. Dash nodded in response and he came in closer so she could hear him properly. “Nervous?”

It was a stupid question she thought, but in a situation like this there wasn’t really any other question to open up with. She also noted DC’s Highland accent for some reason, which was a bit cheerier then Hurricane’s somewhat harsh accent.

“I am nervous, yeah.” She admitted. “It’s to be expected I suppose but I’m just going to go out there and do what I can.”

“With this being your first race, I assume your goal is to finish?” DC asked, the camera pony tapping him on the shoulder as he spoke, likely to let him know they didn’t have much time left.

“It is, but that’s not going to stop me trying to get as high up the order as I can.” Dash replied.

“Thanks Rainbow Dash, good luck.” DC smiled before walking towards the pit wall and continuing to present to camera. Dash overheard him saying that he had to run to get to the commentary booth as Ratchett walked over and gave her her mouth guard.

“five minutes to warm up lap.” He informed her as she put the padded guard before helping her get her helmet and goggles secure and comfortable and checking her suit was tight. Satisified, he stood before her and offered his hoof. She took it and gave it a squeeze, his own grip surprisingly strong and reassuring.

“Best of luck.” He smiled. Dash nodded, her nerves threatening to choke any words. Ratchett then headed for the pit wall, seemingly with all the other supporting staff, TV crews and celebrities heading in the same direction as the three minute signal was given.

“Testing testing, one, one, one!” Ratchett said smoothly over the radio. “This is Radio Ratchett, taking you through the afternoon from one til three.”

“Taking any requests?” Rainbow asked back, confirming the radio was working but not taking her eye off the secondary grid marshal, who was waiting for a signal from the primary grid marshal to send the flyers off on their warm up lap.

“I have a wealth of information for your listening pleasure that I’ll get to you when you need it, but don’t be afraid to request anything to be repeated or anything I’ve not mentioned.”

Dash gave her helmet chin strap a tug to put it into a more comfortable position as she watched the secondary grid marshal. After a moment, she waved her green flag and Dash jumped forwards in a quick, mock start to get her reactions right.

She flew through the field, warming up as everyone else was by weaving, sharply slowing and speeding up and allowing herself to climb sharply upwards until her momentum died and gravity took over, at which point she’d glide onwards.

The crowd was cheering excitedly as the flyers went by, Pinkie and her ensemble of instruments somehow still audible over the noise. She had an odd suspicion Riggwelter’s fans in one of the grandstands around the Reservoir were probably going to compete with her to drown the sound out should they be able to hear one another.

As Dash glided around the Reservoir, she steeled herself and swallowed her now steadily increasing nerves. This was it; her first race was about to begin.

ECRL Round 1: Cloudsdale - Race

Dash glided slowly around the last corner, seeing the grid was now half full. She thrust herself forwards with a couple quick wing flaps before sharply slowing, checking the boards being held over the pit wall to ensure she was headed for the right grid spot.

She landed, poking at the clouds with her hind legs to make sure she had a patch with enough angle and resistance to kick off. She readjusted her goggles as well, to ensure they sat comfortably as the stragglers glided around her.

To say she had butterflies in her stomach would be a massive understatement; it was almost like she had butterflies in her entire body, replacing any guts she had. She was almost shaking with nerves, aware of all the eyes watching her and the other racers from the grandstand, the pit wall and on television. She really didn't want to mess up with so many ponies watching.

“Grid’s full, Dash.” Ratchett’s voice cut through her panicking. “Eyes on the flag.” He reminded as Dash noticed the mayor of Cloudsdale on the starter’s gantry, holding the Equestrian flag.

Trying to force the worry from her mind, she focused on the flag, placing her hind hooves against her small wedge of cloud for kick off.

Her heart was beating so fast now it was like an insane tempo threatening to deafen her as a deathly hush seemed to cover the crowds. She glanced at Concorde several rows ahead and wondered if he, Dust and every other pony on this grid felt the same way.

She returned her eyes to the flag just as it started to fall. The ponies ahead of her were starting to move as the crowd exploded with noise so she kicked off as hard as she could, hoping not to be left behind. She picked up speed quickly before realizing Riggwelter ahead of her hadn’t started as quickly and she darted to the left to avoid him. As she did, another pony came hurtling past her close enough to clip her nose with the tip of his wing.

She followed him, realizing it was Aperto as they reached the first corner, trying to think her way through the next corner as the pack concertinaed up. She backed out sooner then she would have normally, soon realizing she had to slow down more as the pack ahead fought to get to the apex.

She tilted into the corner, trying not to get squeezed into Riggwelter’s belly or from flying into Aperto’s hind as they levelled out and headed into the long Morning Glory section. Like some sort of living accordion, the pack started to spread out slightly as they exited the corner, Dash getting past Riggwelter as she tried to keep up with the faster accelerating Aperto.

“Good start Dash.” Ratchett said over the radio. “Riggwelter, Dust and Hest are behind, Aperto, Stream and Rum are ahead. Watch out for post five.”

Dash had a quick look over at the number board next to the passing marshal’s post, which was number three. Well before she reached post four, still close to Aperto, she could hear the sonic booms ahead and braced herself. She broke the sound barrier just before the fourth post and hit the turbulence almost immediately, getting shaken around so much it felt like she’d get liquidised, not helped by the fact her vision was blurred by the movement.

She focused on following the moving coloured blurs, knowing they were defiantly other racers. She still had a vague idea where the track went and noticed the blue which she was sure was Aperto trying to go around the outside of the green she knew was Lotus Stream. Stream was moving Aperto wide to try and stop him passing, but was opening a gap as they reached the half-way point of the Morning Glory.

“Aperto and Stream going left, gap right!” Ratchett said quickly, being able to see more then Dash through her helmet camera.

She was gaining on them so fast it would be a shame to leave such an opportunity, so she eased past with her superior speed, seeing she was catching the brick red blur that was Red Rum ahead as well.

“Excellent! Rum ahead.” Ratchett added, confirming who it was ahead.

She just about noticed the white pole on her right just in time to remember the Sunrise Hairpin was ahead. Red Rum was taking the racing line and not looking to defend, so Dash aimed to go for the inside, slowing down slightly earlier to make sure she would make the turn as they dropped below the sound barrier and the turbulence died enough for her to see properly.

As she turned into the corner, confident she’d complete the overtake, something knocked into her right side and bounced her straight into Red Rum. Before she knew it, she was sliding across the cloud on her belly before coming to a stop in the run off area. She could hear the mixture of gasps and cheers from the grandstands around her as she raised her head and, with her heart sinking, saw the last of the pack rounding the corner.

Angry, she leapt to her hooves, into the air and gave chase, soon realising she wasn't in any pain and likely avoided another injury.

“You ok, Dash?” Ratchett asked.

“What happened?” She asked, seeing Riggwelter ahead turning into the fast right hoof kink ahead.

“Not sure, waiting on a replay. Take the next couple laps easy, just to be sure you’re not injured.”

“Got it, but I’m fine.” She replied, going through the Factory one kink and quickly glancing up at a big screen as she went past. So far as she could tell, it was focused on the leaders well ahead.

“You’re six seconds behind Riggwelter. Rum’s behind the barrier so he’s out.” Ratchett continued.

“Something hit my right side, I don’t know what.” Dash said. It was a few moments before Ratchett replied.

“Spanner just told me Dust saw it was Hest who knocked you into Rum.” He said. She felt angry, anger that disappeared when she realized she’d missed the apex the second Factory corner.

“Remember, take it easy.” Ratchett reminded. “You’ve still got sixty nine more laps to go, plenty of time to catch up. That incident’s being referred to the stewards and I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Got it.” She confirmed, focusing on where each apex was as she finished the Reservoir complex and came across the line for the first time. The crowd was still cheering as she could hear the leaders breaking the sound barrier again.

“Replay!” Ratchett said. Dash glanced at one of the big screens as she went by on the Morning Glory straight didn’t have time to see anything in particular. “Hest didn’t look like he was aiming to slow down himself there and Dust was lucky she didn’t get tangled up too. He’ll get a glide through penalty for that I think and should come out behind you.”

“Got it.” Dash replied, breaking the sound barrier.

“Back off early, make sure you’re ok.”

“I know, I know!” She said sharply, seeing she was catching up with Riggwelter more clearly now there was less turbulence, though she was still getting shaken around a lot. She could have passed him into the hairpin, but she decided to back out anyway.

“Rigg’s two seconds ahead. You can get him on the Glory on the next lap.”

“Who’s next?”

“Stream, Dust and Datsun are ahead of him, four seconds up the track and lapping faster. If there’s a clean opportunity to get past take it, but remember to take it easy.”

“I know, darn it!” She said hotly. She was much faster towards and through the Factory kink then Riggwelter, who wasn't renowned for his speed, so she eased past into the second Rainbow factory turn.

“Good move. Watch for him through the Reservoir.” Ratchett said.

Dash was about to push that line out of her head before she noticed something black out of the corner of her eye as she slowed for the first Reservoir turn. Rigg was trying to get up her inside again, so she gave herself a quick thrust forwards to ensure she got into the turn first before realizing she’d go wide.

She quickly readjusted herself, feeling lucky she was on the inside for the next corner. She moved back to defend the line, leaving Rigg enough room to move and took the corner more carefully, glancing over her right shoulder to see Rigg following her in line.

“Careful!” Ratchett prompted as they headed towards the last couple corners. She tried not to think of the ponies around them watching, remembering Rigg’s little fan club was based in these grandstands as she held a defensive line. He didn’t try anything through the remaining corners and onto the next lap.

“Still feeling fine?” Ratchett asked.

“I’m good.”

“Great, now hit it! Lotus Stream is four point five seconds up the track. I’ll leave you while you catch up.”

Dash smiled to herself as she turned onto Morning Glory. She could see Lotus ahead and now she had time and room to spread her wings and push.

***

What seemed like a simple task soon proved to be much tougher then Dash had thought. Lotus Stream ahead wasn’t as quick as she was down the Morning Glory, but through the Factory and Reservoir complexes she simply couldn’t keep up, losing over two seconds per lap for every two and a half seconds she gained.

Lightning Dust, who was just ahead of Lotus Stream, seemed to be having exactly the same problem as she escaped Lotus Stream and had a look at Skyline before getting caught again.

The twenty laps felt so long with so little progress, Hest getting a glide through penalty for his move on the first corner not making Dash feel any better. She knew he was behind her and Ratchett was keeping Dash abreast of his progress.

“Hest gained a second on you on the last lap. He’ll probably try to get by in the Reservoir complex.” Ratchett informed Dash, making her heart sink slightly.

“Is there any point in fighting him?” Dash asked, somewhat resigned to him getting past.

“Not really, but stick with him and see what you can learn.”

Dash remembered Concorde’s advice and now was likely to be a better time to take it then during practice.

“Keep an eye out for Hest trying to pass.” Ratchett prompted and Dash started looking out of the corner of her eye through corners to see where he was.

Into the first corner on the next lap, Hest dived through on the inside in a move that took Dash by surprise. She didn’t try to defend and formed up behind him as they went down the Morning Glory. Once they hit the sound barrier, Dash realized she was going to out drag him into the hair pin and went to the right to get the inside line.

As the Morning Glory gently went left and right, Hest moved over to discourage Dash from overtaking, pushing her towards the barriers.

“Get out of it!” Ratchett almost screamed just as Dash did what he said. She dropped below the sound barrier well ahead of the hairpin and Hest was gone.

“What does he think he’s doing?!” Dash shouted.

“Being Hest, he’s terrible. Let him think you’re a push over for now and get after him.”

Dash wasn’t sure what Ratchett meant, but she did her best to chase after Hest and Stream ahead. It didn’t take long for Hest to catch up, but into the second Factory corner he went to the inside. It didn’t look to Dash like he’d ever get to the apex before Stream, but it seemed Stream saw him as she turned in, prompting her to dive to the right to avoid him.

Dash saw her opportunity before realizing she wasn’t quite close enough to capitalize on it immediately as Stream came back onto the racing line less than a length ahead. She thought about diving past through the third Factory corner before slowing down and realizing Stream was slowing at least a length later then she was.

“Calm Dash!” Ratchett said. “Follow her and get her on the Morning Glory!”

Dash did as he said, following Stream through the Reservoir complex and slowing down slightly later then she had previously, though still taking care to not run into Stream’s hind. She was worried whenever she did, scared she would hurtle into Stream’s hind but as soon as she reached the apex she realized she was going to make the corner. Stream was also turning in slightly later, which Dash made a mental note for the next lap as they crossed the start line.

Dash easily flew past Stream down the Morning Glory, opening up a second gap by the time they reached the Sunrise hairpin. Having gone so fast, she decided not to push her slowing point too far forward but still managed to just miss the apex.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her she hadn’t lost much, if any time so she focused forwards.

“Good move. Dust, Datson and Hest are now two point seven seconds ahead.” Ratchett said.

“What?!” Dash exclaimed. “How’d they get away so quickly, we were right with them a moment ago.”

“Hest is pulling them along. Just settle down and see if you can catch up.”

Dash rolled her eyes before focusing on where to slow down. She pushed the point slightly further, surprised to find she could make the second and third factory turns.

She continued through onto the Morning Glory and saw that the pack ahead was further ahead.

“Pack is three seconds ahead. Ignore them and just keep going.” Ratchett said.

***

Dash fell into what felt like a trance as the laps ticked on. She’d lost Lotus Stream who was matching her through the two complexes but not able to keep up through the Morning Glory section. Nothing was happening around her with the next group well ahead of her and getting away.

“Dust just had a run in with Skyline and lost a huge chunk of time.” Ratchett informed Dash, shaking her out of her trance.

“Is she still going?”

“They both are, yeah.”

“What about Corde?”

“Concorde’s on his own in eighth at the moment, catching the three ahead of him who are fighting for position.”

“Right.” Dash said under her breath, now seeing Lightning Dust ahead after going for so long with no one in view.

“Aurora’s down.” Ratchett suddenly said “Took a big tumble so he’s likely out.”

Dash looked for a big screen and caught the end of a replay, showing Aurora tumbling into a barrier under Velocidade, who must have been involved. As she came through the second Reservoir corner, she saw him getting helped behind the barrier by the marshals.

“Now Dust isn’t with Skyline you’re a fraction faster than her through the Factory and Reservoir.”

“So where am I?” Dash asked.

“You’re in eighteenth with twenty nine laps to go. Keep it up, lass!”

***

Dash kept her pace fairly static for the next nineteen laps, keeping Dust in her sights but not quite closing the gap. Ratchett kept telling Dash she was closing but not to push too hard, which was starting to get on her nerves. It didn’t help that she was starting to get tired, her wing joints starting to ache slightly from the continued effort

“Blitzen's out!” Ratchett suddenly said “You’re running seventeenth with ten laps to go.”

“How are the others doing?” Dash asked, noticing a yellow flag getting put away. A quick glance at a passing big screen replay suggested Blitzen had crashed on his own and tumbled into a barrier.

“Dust is three seconds ahead of you running at the same pace. Concorde’s fighting Power Drive for seventh. This is good, keep it up.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how running seventeenth was good, especially last of her team. She had to beat Dust at the very least, so she started pushing harder through the factory complexes, narrowly avoiding the walls a couple times and ignoring her aching wings.

“Gap?” She prompted.

“Two point two to Dust. Don’t do anything stupid.”

She ignored him as she pushed, seeing Dust was responding to try and stop her advance.

“You’re cutting the corner at Factory two and three.” Ratchett said, sounding concerned. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get a glide through.”

Again, she ignored him as she kept pushing. So far as she could tell, the gap was down to just under two seconds with five laps to go.

“Dash, you’re getting a warning from the stewards for exceeding track limits. For the love of Celestia, back off!” Ratchett almost shouted. As she rounded the last corner she saw the black and white diagonal flag held from the gantry with her number next to it and her heart sunk.

Ratchett was right, she’d be better off finishing on her wings then in a heap. Her pride almost screamed at her in pain as she started to back off, feeling she really didn’t want to watch Dust’s hind for the last four laps.

“What’s the gap behind?” She asked

“You’re clear for Lotus Stream, but the leaders Ekstrom and Zip Line may catch you before the end.” Ratchett said. “Keep up your pace and you should be fine.”

Dash sighed as she followed Dust around for the next few laps. She slated her hurt pride slightly by reminding herself there was still eleven races to go this season, she could still beat Dust yet.

She hung back on the Morning Glory on her penultimate lap so she didn’t have to fight as much turbulence from Dust, her wings aching from the sixty eight laps she had completed.

“Dash, the leaders will catch you before the end of the lap.” Ratchett said over the radio. “Watch out for blue flags, I’ll let you know when they get close.”

“Got it.” Dash confirmed, upping her pace slightly to hopefully not get caught. Finishing behind Dust was bad enough, but she really didn’t want to get lapped.

Dust was out of reach now, so she started pushing hard again to stay away, but as she exited the first Reservoir turn, she saw a blue flag.

“They’ll be on you at the last corner, go wide there.” Ratchett prompted. Dash still looked over her shoulder as she entered the last few corners, seeing them drawing closer extremely quickly.

As Ratchett said, she stayed wide around the last corner, looking over her shoulder to ensure they had room and getting the shock of her life when she realized Zip Line was right in her face. She dived further out of the way, nearly straight into the grand stand as Zip threw a nasty gesture at her.

She glided back onto the track and saw the chequered flag was waving as she went over the line, putting an end to her first race, the crowd cheering for the two leaders ahead of her.

“Good flying, Dash.” Ratchett said. “Did pretty much everything right in your- oh, hello.” He tailed off as both he and Dash realized Zip was coming for a word.

“What do you think you were doing?!” He shouted at Dash. She was slightly stunned and scared by one of the big guns of the sport having a go at her, but the adrenaline encouraged her to answer back.

“I got out of your way.” She fired back.

“You got in the way, mare! I could’ve won that race!” He shot back.

“It’s not worth it.” Ratchett said calmly and she couldn’t help be agree, though she had to have a jab at him still.

“Could.” She said simply before flying off down the track. Zip Line obviously didn’t feel it was worth pursuing.

She glided around the track, the ponies in the grand stands politely applauding and cheering as she went by though Pinkie still seemed to be playing all her instruments at full volume. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the most cheering was for Ekstrom as he waved and looped up the Morning Glory. She was kind of glad they weren’t booing and throwing things at her.

“So as I was saying,” Ratchett started. “you did pretty much everything right in your first race and only being one lap down right at the end isn't bad. Take your time to cool down and I’ll see you at the weigh scales.”

“What was the order?” Dash asked.

“Ekstrom won from Zip Line. Zip was trying to go around Ekstrom’s outside in the last corner, you gave them enough space but that move was never going to work so don’t beat yourself up over it. Wolke was third from Mercedes, Power Drive and Jorge while Concorde took seventh from Dawn Wisp, Quicksilver and Aperto who recovered quite well. Lightning Dust finished ahead of you though still has to finish, she’s only just as the first Factory turn.”

Dash nodded, realizing how much she was sweating and how hard she was breathing. That was the hardest thing she had every done and the thought of doing it eleven more times didn’t fill her with much enthusiasm.

***

Dash glided into the now fenced off area in front of the weigh scales. Her legs wobbled furiously as she landed, nearly refusing to take her weight as cameras of the ever increasing crowd of journalists and TV crews flashed around her.

“Get yourself weighed!” One of the marshals instructed, directed her towards the scales and a short queue to use them. She walked past Ekstrom who was celebrating with his crew and lined up behind Zip Line, who had his helmet off and looked annoyed while he watched a TV on the wall next to him.

Dash had a look, seeing it was showing a replay of the last corner incident. Ekstrom had been only a few lengths behind her when she went to get out of the way, with Zip initially following her as she gave them over half the track to get by. His line took him wide and almost straight into Dash before she almost comically dived out of the way and nearly pulled up before hitting the grand stand.

Zip line sighed.

“Sorry.” He said simply, not looking at her.

“What was that?” Dash asked, pulling down her mouth guard.

“I said I’m sorry.” He repeated, turning to her. “You did what you were meant to and that move wouldn’t have worked anyway. Sorry I shouted at you.”

Dash just nodded, accepting his apology as he turned and went to get weighed. Ratchett came trotting in through the door, looking pleased.

“How you feeling, Dash?” He asked.

“I’m feeling… weird” She replied, realizing how wobbly she was feeling now she was using her legs again. Once Zip moved, she stepped onto the weigh scales as well, wondering if her wobbling legs would affect the result.

“Well, at least we know you were pushing and the fact you’re walking is a step up on that test race in Canterlot.”

“So what now?”

“Now we get you to the interview pen while they go to the podium. TV and some of the magazines may want to ask you a few things.”

“Do I have time to get some deodorant?”

“Nah, these guys prefer you fresh off the track.”

Author's Note

Race Result:
1. Ekstrom
2. Zip Line
3. Wolke
4. Mercedes
5. Power Drive
6. Jorge
7. Concorde
8. Dawn Wisp
9. Quicksilver
10. Aperto Jnr
11. Rossi
12. Auroras Encore
13. Velocidade
14. Nicki Hest
15. Skyline
16. Lightning Dust
17. Rainbow Dash
18. Lotus Stream
19. Riggwelter
20. Blitzen (DNF)
21. Leciec (DNF)
22. Typhoon (DNF)
23. Wildfire (DNF)
24. Red Rum (DNF)

Championship Standings:
1. Ekstrom – 25
2. Zip Line - 18
3. Wolke - 15
4. Mercedes - 12
5. Power Drive - 10
6. Jorge - 8
7. Concorde - 6
8. Dawn Wisp - 4
9. Quicksilver - 2
10. Aperto Jnr - 1

Reflecting on a Job Done

Dash was more than relieved to finally get out of the interview pit, as the flyers affectionately named it. Ratchett had commented one of the flyers he had previously provided analysis form had likened it to spending ten minutes in Tartarus with all the grasping arms trying to feed you microphones and after that experience, she agreed.

It felt like most of the interviewers were accusing her of helping Ekstrom win, which certainly wasn’t true. Why exactly she, a proud Cloudsdale Pegasus, would impede a fellow Cloudsdale Pegasus to allow a Fillydelphian rival to win didn’t seem to matter and she wasn’t far off telling them where to stick it before someone mercifully changed the subject and asked her how she felt after improving considerably from her qualifying warm up woes.

Ratchett, who was shadowing her and trying to lead her towards ponies asking for interviews, eventually made excuses for the pair to leave. Mercedes seemed to have been excused as well as the pair exited the pen together.

“Hello Rainbow.” Mercedes smiled as she walked with the younger mare. “Congratulations on finishing your first race.”

“Thanks.” Dash replied, surprised Mercedes would be walking with her. “I kinda screwed up the end, though.” Dash also admitted.

“I did see the replay. Perhaps you could have moved over sooner, but you still did as you were meant to. You at least did better than I did in my first race.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I crashed into Aperto Snr when he was lapping me in the Sunrise Hairpin. He wasn’t far off ripping my head off.” Mercedes chuckled. Dash found herself smiling at the thought.

As they passed Mercedes’ stable, she congratulated Dash again and asked her to pass on her congratulations to her team mates as well before going inside.

“So what now?” Dash asked Ratchett, wanting to make sure she was defiantly aware what was next as they continued towards their own stable.

“Debriefing with Fleet.” He informed her. “She’s been keeping plenty of notes on all our performances so far.”

“Right.” Dash mused as they entered their stable.

They found their team mates and their spotters ahead already returned and were busy going over times and replays.

Concorde seemed to be analysing every lap time in depth while Lightning Dust was watching some of Concorde’s helmet footage and almost demanding answers from Spanner.

“How can he go through there that fast?” She asked him hotly, indicating to the screen like it showed something outlandish.

“He doesn’t spread his wings out as far as you do so he’s generating less drag.” Spanner stated matter-of-factly, making a note on his clip board.

Fleetfoot, meanwhile, was having a quick check over her clipboard before noticing Dash and Ratchett.

“Dash, Ratchett, can I see you both in here, please?” She asked, indicating to a door that led to what had been used as a changing and storage room by the team.

Dash’s slightly annoyed mood from her time in the interview pit was thrown from her mind, panic taking its place. Fleet wanted to see her in private after her first race? Was she going to kick her out of the team already?

While Maffett and Spanner exchanged looks, Concorde and Lightning Dust continued doing what they were doing as Dash and Ratchett made their way over to the side room.

Inside, Fleet had set up a table using a few crates with chairs that had previously been around the table in the main stable. A spotlight they had found in this side room was set up and filling the whole space with bright light.

Dash and Ratchett sat down opposite Fleet as she organised her clipboard, quickly pushing a few stray hairs out of her face. Had her performance over the weekend been so bad? It took her a while to get back up to speed after her practice crash and the last corner incident with the leaders wasn’t great, but would it cost her her position in the team as well as her chance to join the Wonderbolts? It felt like she had been jumped out of the frying pan of an adrenaline packed race and thrown in the fire of a job interview, which filled her with more dread.

“Right Rainbow.” Fleet mused as she moved the right sheet of notes to the top of her clip board. “You can wipe that worried look off your face, this is just a debrief of your performance this weekend.”

“Can I ask something before we start?” Ratchett asked, looking a bit confused. “Why are you debriefing us separately?”

“I thought it would be better and let us keep on topic somewhat. Concorde would likely derail the meeting quite quickly.”

“I doubt it. You’ve seen him evaluating all his times, he’d want to discuss his performance more maturely then he normally does.”

“Doing this separately would enable each flyer to focus fully on themselves, rather than worry about what the others were doing. Anyway, Rainbow; that wasn’t bad for a first race, more successful than some of the field in their respective first races, but I want to hear how you felt about it, starting with practice.”

Dash thought as Fleet focused her attention on her. She was so slow in practice, everyone else was making her look like she was just hovering in place.

“Well, I, er, wanted to take time to get used to the track.” She offered, unsure what to say.

“Good.” Fleet nodded. “Being your first time on track here, you needed the time. I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to improve so much in second practice.”

Dash quietly swallowed, knowing her crash was going to come up.

“I am slightly disappointed you backed off so much during warm up and qualifying after your crash in practice two.”

Boom, there it was. Dash tried to keep a straight face as worry spread its icy fingers through her mind. A comment like that would go on record and could be a horrible sticking point when Spitfire considered who to let into the Wonderbolts.

“When the chips were down, though,” Ratchett chipped in. “Dash improved dramatically. I see what you’re saying Fleet, but that can’t be forgotten.”

“I was about to get onto that, Ratchett.” Fleet replied, going to her next page of notes. “Excluding most of your times, you behaved perfectly in qualifying, you followed Ratchett’s instructions to get off line punctually and didn’t cause a problem.

“As for your race, you started pretty well, gaining a couple places on the run down to the Sunrise Hairpin before Nicki Hest pulled his dopey move on you.”

“I was focused on passing Red Rum, I didn’t know he was there.” Dash added, feeling she had to offer something.

“As you should have been. Nicki was about three lengths behind and probably went into that move both desperate and angry.” Ratchett said, playing with his moustache.

“Your recovery from there was good.” Fleet continued. “You caught and passed both Riggwelter and Lotus Stream in good time, improving your flying along the way which is also very good.

“You were a bit too overeager to catch Lightning Dust, many younger racers would have exhausted themselves in a chase like that, but it seems your own training paid off.

“You were pushing the edges of the track a bit too much and the officials did get onto Ratchett about that.

“Speaking of which, you relayed all the necessary information reliably, Ratchett.” Fleet added, turning to the moustached unicorn.

“Yeah, you did great.” Dash thought she’d add. Ratchett really had been an asset all weekend, keeping her head at least reasonably focused and clear.

“Thanks.” He smiled. “I’ll keep it up for the whole season.”

“I’m sure you can.” Dash said again. Ratchett had only acted as a spotter on a few occasions in the past and this was going to be his first full season in the role.

“Back to you though, Dash. The only blemish in the race was the incident on the last corner of the race with the leaders.” Fleet finally got to, which made Dash tense up with nerves.

“I’ll take responsibility for that.” Ratchett chipped in, to Dash’s surprise. “I told her to wait.”

“Yes, I reviewed the radio log for that. Still Dash, you should have put yourself well out of the way, ideally right around the outside of the track. The stewards aren’t investigating it, but I don’t think they were far off considering doing so.

“Anyway, you not only finished the race but you also demonstrated some improvement over the course of the meeting. You even had two good, fair battles with Lotus Stream and Riggwelter where you made no major mistakes, so that’s a plus.

“Going forward Dash, I want you to do the following: If you have a crash, I want you to re-watch your camera footage and consider why you crashed more thoughtfully. If you let your worries get the best of you as you did in warm up and qualifying, you will only lose time.

“Baltimare will be a different story to here as the track won’t be as wide and won’t feature many run off areas, so you’ll have to limit mistakes as much as possible. How are you with flying in tight confines?”

A small smile flashed across Dash’s face. Having previously looked at a few pictures of the Baltimare track, she realised what it had some similarities to, minus some of its major living dangers.

“I used to fly up and down the Ghastly Gorge to practice. Tight confines won’t be a problem.” She grinned. Fleet arched an eyebrow while Ratchett looked at Dash as if she was mad.

“Then Baltimare may be good for you. We’ll talk more about the place when we get back to Ponyville, but for now you can go. Well done again, Dash.” Fleet smiled, jotting a couple more notes as Dash and Ratchett got up and left.

“Well, that was different.” Ratchett commented once out of Fleet’s earshot.

“How do you mean?” Dash asked.

“Post-race debriefings are usually done as a team. I don’t know what Fleet is aiming to do by doing them separately, because the more you can learn off each other, the better.”

“Is that what you were up to?” Maffett asked, Concorde still engrossed in his times.

“She didn’t tell you either?”

“Nope. Did she say who she wants to see next?”

“Concorde, Maffett! In here, please.” Fleet suddenly called across the stable, throwing a scrunched up piece of paper at Concorde to get his attention.

“Huh? What are you doing in the cupboard?” He asked now he’d looked up.

“Just get in here.”

“Fleet, me dear, surely there are more private places to do such things.” He replied mockingly as he walked over.

“Get in here.”

“Want me to get the light and lock the doo-wah!” He said as he poked his head around the door before getting suddenly pulled in. Maffett just laughed as she went in as well and closed the door.

***

Later that evening, after the team had returned to Ponyville, Lightning Dust lay on the floor of her bedroom as she lifted one of her heavier barbells with her wings while also watching Concorde’s rear facing camera footage.

Her room wasn’t a work of art. Most of her stuff was randomly scattered across the floor because that was where it ended up, many items still in the boxes they had been in when the team moved into the house. Cleanliness and feng shway were hardly concerns to her, though.

She had to figure out what he was doing to be so much faster than she was. She’d pushed hard all race and come away in a lowly, pathetic sixteenth, yet Concorde seemed to be making his seventh place finish look effortless in comparison.

She’d listened to him on the airship ride back discussing Fleet’s feedback with Maffett and Spanner, which was apparently flawless. He seemed to think such praise was meaningless and as soon as they’d gotten home he had put on the full TV coverage of the race so he could watch what as many other racers were doing as possible.

Fleet didn’t have much praise for Dust’s race, berating her for what was apparently over aggressive flying. Those she was passing should have known she was quicker and given her room to get by, but no. They’d weave, block and even turn across in front of her at every opportunity, which had resulted in her colliding with Skyline.

Spanner had given his view as well, which didn’t help. He’d been bleating in her ear for the whole race, encouraging her to take her time, time she didn’t have when a place in the Wonderbolts was at stake.

Still, she’d beaten Rainbow Dash, which was a start. Racing was going to be much tougher then she had initially thought now she’d completed a whole race. She had to start scoring points as those race wins she thought she’d easily get looked to be so far out of her grasp. If she could work out Concorde’s flying style, she would surely be fast enough to get into the points paying top ten positions and then she could go for those wins.

Apparently Electricity Hurts

Ratchett made his way across town the next morning to fetch Rainbow Dash. Fleetfoot had been concocting some sort of surprise for them at the practice track and wanted them all to gather at the house before heading over.

After what had been a successful weekend, all things considering, he was now actually not in the best of moods. He’d just met Derpy as she’d started her rounds and she was convinced he was Spanner, offering all his mail as well. She wasn’t the only one to somehow mistake them, but it was starting to grate already.

They may have shared a few interests, but they weren’t that much alike. If anything was near enough identical between them, it was that they’d both worked as analysts for racers who’d nearly won the ECRL Championship over the previous few years. With the recent shakeup of team sizes so top teams didn’t have an army of support staff, both he and Spanner had lost their jobs before Fleetfoot offered them a chance to act as Spotters for the Wonderhawks.

Ratchett hadn’t acted as a Spotter before, thinking it would be a pretty easy job next to in-depth analysis of a pony’s flying, but with so much information he could potentially flood Rainbow Dash with, it proved tricky to find a good balance, not to mention finding the right time to say it. Bother her mid turn or while in a close battle for position and it could result in a mistake and accident, or simply Dash not understanding what he was trying to convey.

The thought pushed itself from his mind as he looked up at Rainbow Dash’s cloud house, wondering for a moment if he’d gone the wrong way.

Dash’s house was a tall structure of clouds with typical Cloudsdale architecture and a few rainbows arching out of it, but what had once been a single structure was now spread out, each part some one hundred meters from what had been the front door and adjoining hall.

Rainbow shot out of one of the separated rooms, dragging a carpet of cloud which she shook out into a twisted shape before she attached it to the hall, disappearing from view behind the door.

“Rainbow!” Ratchett called, the mare opening the front door to see who it was.

“Ratchett!” Rainbow grinned before gliding down, doing a quick forward flip before landing. “What do you think?”

“What in Equestria are you doing?” Ratchett asked, looking at the now spread out house.

“I thought I’d have my own private practice track. From the living room, I can take that wide, tightening corner to get to the kitchen. That corkscrew to get to the bathroom. That zigzag climb to get upstairs and that tight little complex of corners to get to my bedroom.” Dash said, rattling off the modifications in quick succession as she pointed each out.

Ratchett looked over the modifications again. He’d seen racers get so obsessed they would train day and night without a moment’s down time with a fifty/fifty chance of actually improving, but he had a feeling Dash did everything fast anyway so adding a few corners would likely make little difference.

“Defiantly novel.” Ratchett mused, before remembering what he was here for. “Fleet wants us to go to our practice track now.”

“Sure.” Dash smiled, before rocketing into the air and towards the meadow they’d built the track in. Ratchett paused for a moment, wondering why she didn’t ask why Fleet would want them there so early, and then remembered who he was dealing with and gave chase.

***

Dash flew over the old Windmill house the rest of her team was living in and saw them grouped outside the front door. For a second, she considered zipping ahead and beating them to the track, but she decided she may as well see what they were up to.

“Weight lifting all night doesn’t help you at all.” She heard Spanner say to Dust, annoyed for some reason. Dust looked like she hadn’t slept much.

“Hey, I’m trying to keep as much strength in my wings as possible. The stronger they are, the faster I am.” She replied.

“Not to fault your logic, Dust,” Concorde injected. “But weightlifting yourself to exhausting and sleeping on the floor with a thirty five kilo bar pinning you down isn’t gonna do you much good.”

As Dash glided down, she saw Concorde and Spanner notice her. If she wanted to take advantage of creeping up on at least one of them, she’d have to be quick as she got behind Maffett.

Dash inhaled as Maffett turned around, and the split second she faced her she let out an enormous ‘Boo!’.

Maffett leapt into the air with a yelp of surprise in a way Dash really wasn’t expecting, which made her pull back in surprise.

“What was that for?!” Maffett asked hotly while Concorde just laughed.

“Hey, I was just kidding around.” Dash replied, annoyed she was being shouted at for a joke.

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“What a day.” Concorde chuckled. “First Dust needs rescuing from her own weights and now Maffett’s jumping for the stars.”

“Get stuffed.” Maffett grumbled.

“Rescued from her weights?” Dash asked, smirking at the annoyed and slightly hag-ridden Dust.

“We found her this morning on her bedroom floor with the weight bar across her stomach and a laptop still on next to her.” Spanner explained, Concorde chuckling to himself.

“Look, I was keeping myself warmed up for training today, alright?” Dust sighed, still annoyed. “Would you rather I sit on my hind and read comics all night instead?”

“That’s what I tend to do, relax after a race and then get back to training in the morning.”

“You mean sit and read those stupid Tin-Can books?”

“Tahntahn.” Concorde corrected, though Dash had no idea who or what that was.

“Tintin.” Maffett answered Dash’s question, having noticed her slightly perplexed expression, though it didn’t answer anything in her mind.

“Who?” Dash asked.

“What? You haven’t heard of Les Aventures de Tahntahn!?” Concorde exclaimed, shocked.

“Tintin’s an adventurer and reporter who foils criminal plans with the help of his dog Snowy.” Maffett explained.

“Milou!” Concorde almost cried in disappointment. “He’s called Milou.”

“Corde reads the original French versions.”

“Well, aye.” He sighed as the team started subconsciously following Spanner away from the house and through the trees towards the track. “It’s how my grands-parents helped me learn the language.” He added, pronouncing ‘grand parents’ in French.

“Surprised you’ve forgotten about Captain Haddock.”

“No I haven’t, just thinking of how to say how brilliant he is without spending hours explaining.”

“I’m still surprised you stop. Isn’t racing your dream?” Dust injected.

“Yep, but you have to relax sometimes, you know. Can’t be all on, all the time.”

“Well I will be, because I’m getting into the Wonderbolts no matter what.”

Concorde was about to answer back before a sudden rumble of thunder caught their attention.

“Was that thunder?” Concorde asked, looking around the clear blue sky beyond the tree canopy they stood under for a thunder cloud.

“Oh, she can’t have.” Dash mused to herself as she flew forwards into the clearing to get a look at the track.

The infield layout of their small track had been completely surrounded with barriers of pitch black, thundery clouds that crackled menacingly as the eight ponies entered the clearing.

Fleetfoot was thanking the somewhat charred Cloudchaser and Flitter before she noticed the rest of her team had arrived.

“Good morning, my little ponies.” She smiled, as if nothing was wrong. “What do you think?” She added, indicating to the electrified near-death trap above.

The team stood in silence, looking up at it as exhausted Ratchett ran into the clearing.

“Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t keep up with-” He started, before looking up and seeing the track. “Are you mad? You’ve electrified the whole track?”

“Yep.” Fleet grinned. “Seeing as Baltimare’s a street track, lined with metal barriers with a few air barriers to cushion crashes, I thought it’d be a good idea to try and simulate that to some degree here.”

“The difference is that street track walls aren’t electrified.” Ratchett felt like pointing out.

“I know, but a quick electric shock is less likely to leave lasting damage then hammering into a wall at full speed.” She said before turning to the racers. “We’re going to practice with the infield track for the next two weeks ahead of Baltimare, starting with some long runs today.”

“Don’t forget, Fleet, me and Maffett need to go get our acts together before catching the train this afternoon.” Concorde added. He and Maffett had been the only ones to take Octavia’s offer of free tickets to see her show in Canterlot.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. In fact, I want you to go first and show these two how it’s done.” Fleet smiled.

“Fair enough, I’ll grab my suit.” Concorde said, flying up to the platform where they’d left their practice equipment.

Spanner looked at Ratchett for a moment before approaching Fleet.

“Shouldn’t they all be on track?” He asked.

“I thought it’d be more helpful for them to observe for a while first. Not to mention, Concorde usually hangs his wing over the edge of the track while cornering so this should prove amusing.” Fleet said with a wicked grin.

***

Once Concorde had his white practice suit on and was ready, he set off to start lapping the track, the rest of his team watching from the platform.

The black clouds looked oppressive to him as he glided around on an exploration lap, mentally editing his slowing and turning marks now he couldn’t see his old ones. What peaked his interest most was how close he could get to the ‘walls’ before getting electrocuted.

A street track’s walls were always unforgiving and left next to no room for error, but it was possible to glance them with the tip of a feather and get away with unscathed. Thunder clouds, on the other hand, were finicky and likely to strike without warning.

He cleared the thought from his head as he went onto a fast lap, gently tilting into the first sweeping corner and onto the back straight. Without thinking as he followed his usual line to get ready for the first hair pin, the tip of his feather glanced one of the thunder clouds and he was hit with a massive jolt of electricity.

“Ow! Bloody Nora!” He swore to himself, looking over for a moment before slowing for the hairpin.

He couldn’t have been that close to the barrier, he thought as he exited the first hairpin and arranged himself for the second one.

He tilted as he normally would into the hairpin, another spark of electricity jumping out for the tip of his wing as it got a little too close.

“Dammit!” He said through gritted teeth, his radio suspiciously quiet.

He changed his line slightly for the next two hair pins, keeping slightly more distance between himself and the barriers and getting away without a surprise electrocution. The same couldn’t be said of the barrier at the exit of the last corner, which struck him on the flank as he went by.

“Oh, Mère enfer saut p*****, I was nowhere near you!” He actually shouted at the cloud before carrying on, fuming. He took a moment to glance at the platform and saw the rest of the team were laughing their heads off. He just shook his head and carried on.

***

Concorde continued to lap the track, occasionally getting too close to the thunder cloud barriers and swearing at them in frustration. He was intentionally getting as close to the barriers as possible because he needed all the space he could find to go fast, but his outbursts still amused the team.

“Ta mère!” Concorde shouted with full blown fury as he clipped the thunder cloud on the exit of the last corner again, ruining his current and next lap. Maffett had set his radio to loud speaker so everyone could hear it and they were rolling around on the platform laughing.

“Was that rude?” Dash asked between laughs.

“Not as rude as I was expecting.” Maffett managed once she’d stopped laughing.

“Well, if anything, you can see what frustration does.” Fleet smiled, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Encourage creative swearing?” Dash offered.

“Well, that and-” Fleet started, before noticing Concorde clip the inside of the second hair pin again and getting such a jolt, he was practically thrown into the opposite barrier, right inside the cloud.

The cloud sparked and rumbled furiously, Concorde’s radio transmitting nothing but static as the team watched.

After a few moments, a blackened Concorde fell straight out of the barrier and landed spread out on the ground with a thud, his team crying with laughter as they wondered if they should go and help him or not. The radio crackled for a moment before Concorde’s voice growled over it.

“For the record, Fleet; you’re the evilest witch I’ve ever met.”

***

Concorde finished flying around the track a few hours later after a short recovery, completing roughly sixty seven clean laps, without touching the barriers, out of seventy nine.

Once he and Maffett had left to get ready to go to Canterlot, Dash and Dust took to the track. Dust had been slightly more focused then her team mate in watching Concorde fly, watching for where he tilted or threw himself into a corner closely.

Dust gritted her teeth as she went onto her first hot lap and hurtled into the corner, slowing and throwing her hind out to turn tighter. At this angle, she’d clip the inside wall, so she re-angled herself so she came gradually back into line, thrusting forwards and tucked her inside wing in at the last second, avoiding being electrocuted as she positioned herself for the next corner.

The fiddly little hairpins had annoyed her throughout their practice ahead of Cloudsdale, but Concorde’s approach seemed to make them look easy. Dust slowed for the first one and flicked herself into what was akin to a controlled slide, her hind turning her on the tip of her wing as she angled herself into the corner. She was close to the inside wall, perilously close in fact, but the threatened shock never came as the corner ended and the short straight opened up for Dust to thrust her way out, into the second hairpin where she did much the same.

She saw Dash ahead clip the inside of the third hairpin, the shock making her jolt to the outside of the track and opening a clear way through for Dust, which made her entrance into the fourth hairpin perfectly clear and without distraction.

Throwing herself through the last corner in the same manner she threw herself into the first, she thrust herself towards the line as fast as she could.

“Time?” Dust asked as she crossed the line, not slowing as she started the next lap.

“Forty nine, two. Which is six tenths off Concorde’s best from early, that’s excellent.” Spanner replied “Try and keep your wings tucked in around the first and last corners.”

Spanner’s advice fell on deaf ears as Dust carried on with the next lap, pushing the slowing area further and further. She had to find another second and put that stupid pony in his place.

On the Rails Again

Practice continued on the small circuit over the next nine days. Concorde still proved faster than his team mates, but as the days went by their progress was constantly improving. Fleet had initially started quantifying their performance in the number of times they were lapped, but now it was a matter of seconds behind.

The two mares were improving by at least a second per lap every day, but Concorde was still taking a tenth off his fastest lap just as quickly. Even though he still managed to electrocute himself every once in a while on the thunder clouds surrounding the track, he had improved his best time by nearly a third of a second. Lightning Dust wasn’t happy she still wasn’t challenging him, but the Tools (as she’d started thinking of them) insisted both her’s and Rainbow Dash’s progress was pretty good.

After a few days, Fleet had informed her team she was going to start throwing them some more curve balls, similar to the huge gust of wind she had Cloudchaser and Flitter create in their practice sessions before Cloudsdale. So far, this had included an unintended ‘airspace violation’ in the form of Fluttershy trying to herd a flock of birds off the track, but Fleet had said she wanted to run a Safety Kart drill as, while injured racers could be swiftly removed from the track, there was always a possibility they couldn’t or shouldn’t be moved, which was when either a Safety Car or Marshall would take to the track and lead the racers around in order at a much slower speed.

Lightning Dust wasn’t particularly bothered as she went about improving her long run lap times. Her combined training had improved her endurance to the point of not being physically tired by race distances, though she was still having trouble keeping herself fully focused when flying for laps at a time on her own.

Rainbow Dash was in the same position, but she’d been working on improving her own flying style, rather than changing it entirely to match the other racers as Lightning Dust had. She thought it was awkward and counter-intuitive, effectively forcing her to re-learn how to deal with turning in order to keep up as she used her wings to counter hurling herself into a corner to turn tightly rather than simply tilting in, but if that was what you had to do to beat the competition, then that was what Dust would do.

Dust wasn’t sure what use this style of flying would be once this charade was over and she was a fully-fledged member of the Wonderbolts, but while it would defiantly happen it wouldn’t be until the next year, much to her frustration, so she carried on lapping the track.

They were finishing their last day of practice before Baltimare with a two hour race, staggering their starts so Dust had a twenty second lead on Dash, who in turn had a twenty second lead on Concorde. With ten minutes to go, Concorde had caught and passed Dash and was three seconds behind Dust. Dash was able to keep up with Concorde, keeping within two seconds of him. In the time they had left, it wasn’t likely they could catch Dust, who was quietly pleased she was going to beat them.

“Safety Kart drill!” Spanner suddenly said over the radio. Before Dust could think of anything to say, Fleetfoot flew out onto the track ahead of her, wearing a helmet with a large, blue flashing light on the top.

Dust slowed as quickly as she could, more out of surprise than anything else and lined up behind Fleet, before her mind worked out what was happening and anger took over.

“Seriously? Now?!” She exclaimed, gesturing to Spanner as she went by.

“Don’t blame me, I didn't know about it and Fleet did say she was going to try and take you guys by surprise. Unless you see the accident, you can never tell when a Safety Kart’s going to be sent out.”

Dust rolled her eyes, still furious but at least calm enough to ask a simple question.

“Is this it? Is she going to glide around for the last ten minutes?”

“No, I think she’s going to do two laps and then come in. I’ll keep you posted.” Spanner replied.

Dust sighed, checking over her shoulder to see if her team mates were lined up closely behind her. Sure enough they were, eliminating the advantage she had as they both weaving slightly to keep their wings warm.

“Fleet’s coming in at the end of this lap.” Spanner informed as they crossed the line. “I want you to back off after turn three and let Fleet get away. You’ll have control of the pace so I want you to accelerate out of turn five like normal. Once you cross the line, you’ll be under racing conditions again and can overtake. Whatever you do, don’t overtake Fleet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fleet said under her breath.

She did as he said as they exited turn three, gliding gently along the small in-field straight as Fleet vanished around the next two corners. Out of turn five, Dust picked up her speed and headed onto the next lap, spotting Spanner’s pit board which said they had five laps left.

She went to turn into the first corner as if nothing was wrong, but as she looked for the apex Concorde came into her peripheral vision, right in the small gap there was between her and the inside thunder clouds.

Without thinking, she levelled out so she wouldn’t fly into him and found herself on the outside of the track faster than she expected with a spark of lightning hitting her wing.

“Keep going.” Spanner encouraged her after she’d stopped swearing.

She gritted her teeth and chased after her teammates now they were both past. She shouldn’t have allowed that dump Yorkshire pony through so easily, she may as well have ushered him through with a free drink she had made it so easy. Next time, she wouldn’t let him through.

***

Dust’s bad mood persisted after they finished practising and continued until they got back to the house. As Rarity was accompanying them to Baltimare, they’d given her a key to get in once she was ready.

“Ah, good evening!” Rarity smiled as they walked in, finishing what looked like an elegant cup of tea. “How was your practice?”

An answer would have come if the team hadn’t noticed the pile of suit cases next to Rarity. There was so many it made the team’s combined suitcases look like they were staying overnight somewhere.

“Are you moving, or something?” Maffett asked.

“Of course not. These are all for design and inspiration as I’m going to start designing your suits and dresses for the Maneaco Fashion Show with my friend from Manehatten. She’ll be meeting us in Baltimare.”

“Coco Pommel?” Dash guessed.

“Why, yes. She was so excited when I wrote to her about the show and she’s eager to meet you all.”

“Will you be needing them to pose or anything?” Fleet asked as she picked up the late mail. “We’ll have a lot to do once we reach Baltimare.”

“It depends on what ideas we have, though we shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

“Right.” Fleet mused before turning to her team. “Would you all start packing our bags in the cart? The train leaves in two hours time.”

The team did as she said while Fleetfoot quickly organised their mail, so they could read and deal with it on the train. They’d be traveling for a full day to get to Baltimare at the south eastern corner of Equestria, a journey that would drive her mad some times, but at least there were some good valleys to fly through to keep their wings warm.

While sorting the mail, she found a particularly heavy envelope that was addressed to the Wonderhawks team as a whole, so she decided to open it and have a look.

“Well, this is an interesting piece of mail.” Fleet commented as she read through it.

“Interesting in what way?” Spanner asked as he came to get another suitcase.

“Have your salacious magazines finally arrived?” Concorde remarked, poking his head around the door frame with a grin on his face. Fleetfoot just shot him an annoyed look that made the others chuckle.

“No.” She replied simply after a moment. “It’s seven invitations to the celebration of the one hundredth anniversary of the Black Sheep brewery, sent by Riggwelter.”

“Free beer, eh?” Maffett asked, having a look at the letter and enclosed invitations.

“Apparently so. It’s the day after the Baltimare race.”

“We’ve got time between Baltimare and Vanhoover, so why not?” Concorde added.

“We’ve only got two weeks again.” Dust pointed out.

“You say that like it’s no time at all.”

“It isn’t. You can waste time and go, but I’m coming straight back here.” She snapped, her bad mood amusing him.

“Where is this place, anyway?” Fleet asked, checking the address.

“Mareham’s a slight detour, but it’s on the way back here. Takes just under a day from here.” Maffett informed her.

“Right, we can confirm any invitations with Riggwelter at Baltimare so you can make up your minds.” Fleet concluded, organising the last of the mail. “I’ll go get my stuff.” She added before heading up stairs.

The team continued loading the cart Applejack had leant them, Ratchett and Spanner keeping the precarious pile balanced as it got higher and higher.

“Rainbow!” Came the high pitched voice of Pinkie Pie. Dash turned to see where she was and jumped when she realised Pinkie was already barely an inch away from her. Even after knowing her for so long, she could still take her by surprise.

“Mr and Mrs Cake need me to help them all weekend.” Pinkie explained quickly before Dash could ask. “I can’t come and cheers for you guys, but I’ve brought everything so I can go in spirit!”

With that, she started loading the surprised Dash with party supplies.

“Balloons, streamers, trumpets, tinsel, party poppers,” She listed in rapid succession as Dash was loaded down and soon hidden under a pile of supplies, only her tail visible as her bemused team mates laughed. “confetti and- Wait? Where’s the confetti? This is an emergency, you need- Oh, oh!”

Pinkie rushed past Spanner, into the house and hurtled up the stairs, nearly knocking Maffett over in the process. Dash freed herself from the pile of party supplies as the team went to follow Pinkie, Ratchett helping her when the tinsel wouldn’t let her go.

“What the hay are you doing in my room?” They heard Fleet say as they crossed the first floor landing to the second set of stairs, before she exclaimed loudly in surprise as there was a loud bang.

The team got to the second landing and looked into Fleet’s normally perfectly clean, tidy and organised room, with various trophies and Wonderbolts pictures on the shelves and walls, to find it covered in confetti, as if it had exploded from one of her drawers. Pinkie gave the partially open bag to the still bemused Rainbow Dash as soon as she entered the room.

“Where’d you get that from?” Spanner felt like asking.

“I have stashes all over Ponyville in case of emergencies.” Pinkie grinned as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Good look Rainbow, I’ll come and see you when you get back.” She smiled sweetly before bouncing out of the room.

***

Once the chaos had been cleaned up and the team had loaded their bags, they made their way to the station. It wasn’t long before they were all on board and under way with an entire carriage to themselves, courtesy of Concorde’s father. He hadn’t been able to make the first race due to orders of his famous powered glider going through the roof, which had disappointed Concorde more than he let on, but he had promised he’d make it to Baltimare.

Once they'd had their dinner, the team occupyed themselves by playing a card game Maffett had brought with them called Cards Against Ponies. Once she explained how it was played, the hugely politically incorrect game had drawn more than enough laughs, gasps and combinations of the two and, after a hugely offensive answer that reduced the team to tears, Rarity removed herself from the foalish game to start scribbling some designs.

“So, is anyone planning on taking Rigg’s invitation?” Spanner asked after a while. His hoof of cards was absolutely terrible and he was considering ditching it for a new hoof.

“I wouldn’t touch such foul stuff.” Rarity said, her nose in the air.

“Do you prefer wine?”

“Well, of course. A nice glass of wine is the perfect thing to relax with on a Sunday in my silk pajamas, along with a good book.” She smiled.

“It all smells like gasoline to me.” Fleet remarked. “I don’t even know what the differences between them are.”

“Well, there’s red and white.” Rainbow pointed out.

“I know that, smart hind. I meant between shiraz and chianti and the like.”

The team looked at each other, unsure, before looking at the one pony who would likely know.

Concorde was sorting through his hoof, trying to think of good answers to the question ‘And for my next trick: I will pull Blank out of Blank’. After a moment, he glanced up from his cards and realised everyone was looking at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Surely you can tell us the difference between shiraz and chianti.” Ratchett said.

“I might be half French, but I don’t know much about wine, or even drink it. To my knowledge, chiantis go well with fava beans though.”

“Seriously, you don’t know?” Dust found herself asking. “Next you’ll say you don’t know your cheeses.”

“Wensleydale with cranberries.” Concorde replied instantly. “Best thing in the world next to chocolate coated raisins.”

“Can you at least tell us anything about this beer?” Fleet asked.

“Well, if Whitbay’s anything to go by, they’re in a battle with Bronze Dragon. Half the pubs serve Black Sheep, the other half Bronze Dragon. They both do brilliant blonde ales.”

“Blonde ales?” Rainbow asked.

“Aye. blonde ales aren't particularly strong but you can drink them easily. Dark ales are really strong and I'm not that fond of them.”

“Because you're a wuss.” Maffett injected. “Are you going to play any cards, Corde?” She asked. She was playing the current question and had answers from the other five already.

“I’ll throw these in, then.” Concorde said, passing two cards, face down, to Maffett. Concorde grabbed two more answer cards and groaned when he read them.

“Right. So, for my next trick, I will pull-” Maffett paused, turning over the first two cards while Fleet failed to hold a straight face. “The Big Bang out of the Armish.”

No one reacted so Maffett turned over the next pair.

“I will pull The Light of a Trillion Suns out of Scientology.”

There was no reaction, but Maffett had an urge to look at Ratchett and Spanner, the others following her gaze.

“I had a terrible hoof.” Ratchett said.

“Just getting rid of some useless cards.” Spanner added.

“Right. I will pull-” She continued, turning the next pair over. “Breaking out into Song and Dance out of The Hustle.”

“Why would you do that?” Concorde said while the group chuckled, Fleet looking pleased with herself while Maffett turned over the next pair.

“I will pull Unfathomable Stupidity out of Prince Blueblood.” She said, starting to laugh mid-way through the sentence before the others joined in. They all agreed that it would be an incredible trick.

“For my next trick,” She was eventually able to continue. “I will pull The Mysterious Mare-do-Well out of A Really Cool Hat. For my last trick, I will pull Overcompensation out of Vigorous Jazz Hooves. Stupidity and Blueblood win.”

Dust grabbed the question card, smirking as Fleet and Dash sighed with disappointment as they thought their answers were good. Still, it would be hard to match the winning answer to ‘What’s that smell?’.

Rolling into Town

After a full day and night’s travel, the team arrived in Baltimare around noon on the day before the meeting would officially start. To pass the time, keep their reflexes sharp and starve off boredom, the racers spent much of the long day travelling flying through some wide open valleys and once again proving that Concorde was by far the slowest of the three in terms of straight line speed, though as soon as more than one corner was involved, things levelled back out again.

As the train rolled through the city towards the station, the team admired the mix of rustic and more modern architecture of the buildings

“It’s been a while since I was here last.” Ratchett remarked. “Have any of you ever been here before?”

“Once, yeah.” Dash answered.

“I know nothing about this place, besides that daft joke.” Maffett shrugged.

“What joke’s that?”

“Concorde, give that back!” Spanner suddenly said hotly, catching everyone’s attention.

“Just gonna see how far it goes.” Concorde smiled before launching something across the carriage. When it hit the far door and fell to the floor, they saw it was a piece of flexible plastic with a loop of elastic at either end that Spanner usually wore over his moustache at night.

“You really are a damn foal.” Spanner sighed as he retrieved it and put it back in his bag.

“What’s that thing for, anyway?” Concorde asked.

“I wear it so I can keep my moustache from, erm.” Spanner started, thinking of a good word.

“Keep your moustache from what?” Maffett injected almost instantly, finding the idea amusing. “Hair eating bugs and/or Breezies?”

“Moustache snoods are useful for keeping a moustache from getting messy while you sleep.” Ratchett added, though no one had ever heard the word before.

“What other paraphernalia do you have to protect your ‘taches?” Concorde asked. “Special spoons to keep it from staining? Little strainers to keep your ‘tache from dipping into a drink?”

Ratchett and Spanner exchanged looks before deciding not to answer the question.

“Anyway, Baltimare.” Ratchett said, changing the subject. “Formerly a heavily used port town before Manehatten expanded so most trade goes through there.”

“Well known for its moustaches, right?” Concorde added, though Spanner just ignored him and continued.

“The track’s in the Inner Harbour, downtown. The weather’s not going to be controlled this weekend so we can expect a few breezes coming off Horseshoe Bay, usually down the main straight so you’ll be flying straight into it.”

“That’ll be a piece of cake.” Dash smiled. “I’ve orchestrated supplying Cloudsdale from the Ponyville Reservoir so flying in high wind isn’t a problem.”

“Excellent. What about you two?” Spanner continued, looking at Dust and Concorde.

“Well, Windy Valley’s named as such for a reason, but it’s not on Dash’s level.” Concorde said, making Dash grin broadly.

“It’s just a breeze, it won’t get in my way.” Dust said simply as the train started to pull into Baltimare Station.

“Even a breeze can take its toll after a while, Dust.” Spanner said as the team went to get their bags together. “The main straight is the best point to rest but you can find yourself fighting harder for laps on end just to get down it if the breeze is persistent or picks up.”

Dust didn’t answer as she got her things together and followed Fleetfoot out of the carrage and onto the busy platform. While Equestria was hardly lacking for variety in the many different species that populated it, it was a surprise to see so many of them in a single place. Griffins, Zebras, Donkeys, Goats, Dogs and more were just as numerous as ponies here as they went about their work, got off the train and greeted friends and family who were waiting for them.

“Could you get some trolleys, Concorde?” Fleet asked as he leaned the old guitar he’d brought with him against his bags.

“Sure.” He said before disappearing into the crowd.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find Coco. She should be waiting for us somewhere.” Rarity said before trotting off as well.

Dash jumped up and hovered above the team, keeping an eye out for their companions as Dust pulled out the track map they’d been studying between practice sessions and on the train to have another look.

The track consisted of a lot of straights and tight corners as it wound through the streets with a few fast, flowing corners thrown in for good measure.

The main straight was long, but not long enough to get up to supersonic speeds. The first corner, a right hoof corner that was tight enough to just assay come back in on itself, quickly turned into the second corner which gentled went left before a short straight towards a tight hairpin for turn three.

The hairpin turned fully back on itself, into a short straight to a ninety degree left hoof corner onto the back straight, which was nearly as long as the main straight. After a left, right, left chicane, the track turned left normally but also turned right for the pit entrance, which due to space constraints was at the back of the track.

At the end of the pit straight, the track turned ninety degrees right again into two flowing corners, left and then right and into a tight but fast ninety degree right into another short straight, which went into another flowing right and left.

According to the Tools, the track had previously immediately turned right back onto the main straight, but now there was another short straight into a ninety degree right, yet another short straight and then, in quick succession, another ninety degree right and ninety degree left back onto the main straight. This section had been added a few years ago to stop ponies going supersonic and blowing out the windows of the surrounding buildings.

One lap lasted around one minute and twenty five seconds and the stop/start nature of most of the corners could wear them out quite quickly, but after all the training Dust had put herself through she knew she could do it.

Dust returned the map to its bag as Dash landed next to her. Looking up through the crowd, she spotted Concorde walking towards them, accompanied by a brown bodied Earth Pony stallion. He had a purely white mane and tail and wore a knitted green vest over a white shirt, as well as a red bow tie.

“Where’s the trolley?” Fleet asked as he approached, now she’d noticed he didn’t have any.

“Well, if you believe him,” Concorde said, nodding to the stallion. “It’s on its way.”

“Is this stal taking us to the hotel?” Dust asked.

“He could, but he’s also my dad.” Concorde smiled, before adding to his father in an overly authoritative voice, along with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “Now, carry my bags, bellhop!”

“Carry your own bags, lad.” He smiled in return, his accent much strong then Concorde’s. Dust then noticed something had followed him. It was a big trolley, big enough to carry all their bags, with a magic motor attached to the back which seemed to be driving it. “Failing that, you can test this for me.”

“Last time I tested something for you, it nearly killed me, so I’ll pass.” Concorde remarked, going to get his bags.

“Bristol Cayley, right?” Fleetfoot asked the stallion.

“It is, aye.”

“Nice to finally meet you.” She smiled, shaking his hoof. From what Dash knew, Spitfire made any sponsorship agreements in private so Fleet must not have been directly involved.

“Likewise, Fleetfoot. They haven’t caused you too much trouble, have they?” He asked, glancing at Concorde and Maffett.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh, I would, but any stories can wait for now. I put together this little thing before I flew out here so we can move your stuff quickly and easily.” Bristol smiled, patting the motorized trolley.

“How’s it following you?” Spanner asked, investigating the motor. Bristol just smiled as he pulled a small item out from the collar of his vest.

“I’m testing this little gizmo for a friend, which activates the steering and gears depending on where the holder is so it can follow. Gearing needs a bit of work but it seems ok so far.”

“Well, you’re paying if any of our stuff breaks.” Concorde remarked as the team started loading up their bags. Bristol just smirked as he returned the gizmo to his pocket.

“Erm, excuse me?” A new voice poked into the conversation, drawing their attention.

The voice belonged to an Earth Pony mare with an off white coat, two toned blue mane and tail and similarly coloured eyes. She wore a lavender sailor collar with a scarlet tie and a tri-shade hair clip in the back of her mane as well as two packed saddle bags.

“Can we help you, love?” Bristol asked.

“Erm, yes. Would you happen to be the Wonderhawks?” She asked with a Manehatten accent.

“We are.” Maffett answered. “Would you happen to be Rarity’s friend Coco?”

“I am, yes.” She smiled.

“Cool, I’m Maffett. She actually went to look for you as soon as we arrived.”

“Oh. Well, I was stood at the end of the platform when the train arrived and I didn’t see her.”

“Maybe if we start discussing disastrous colour combinations out loud it’ll draw her back.” Concorde offered as he dumped another suitcase on the motorised trolley.

“Well,” Fleet mused, smiling as an amusing memory came to mind. “We could discuss a dress she apparently made for Spitfire. It was peach with a pink-”

“Do not say another word.” Came the angry growl of Rarity, who had appeared as if from nowhere to pin Fleet’s mouth shut.

The team were taken aback as the scene remained static for a moment before Rarity let go of Fleet and composed herself.

“Coco, it’s so good to see you.” She smiled, giving the Manehatten mare a hug as well as kissing her on both cheeks, though she still looked as taken aback as everyone else.

“Erm, it’s good to see you as well, Rarity. I’m sorry I didn’t see you when you were looking for me.”

“That’s alright. To tell the truth, I was talking to the platform guard about his uniform.”

“Was it as bad as this dress of Spitfire’s?” Dash asked, Rarity returning a somewhat furious look.

“That was a travesty and should never be spoken of again.” She said simply, the team exchanging amused glances.

“How about we catch up over coffee and let the team get settled?” Coco offered after a second’s silence.

“Good idea.” Rarity smiled and with that, the pair disappeared into the crowd, chatting away.

“Shame this thing doesn’t have wheels or I’d roll it after her.” Ratchett remarked as he and Spanner lifted Rarity’s pink couch onto the motorised trolley.

“Is that everything, colts?” Fleet asked, having realised they’d managed to get them to load everything onto the motorised trolley.

“Yep.” Concorde confirmed as he slung his guitar over his shoulder.

“Still don’t trust anyone with your guitar?” Maffett asked.

“Nope.”

“You’re terrible on that.” Dust said simply.

“What are you talking about? I make this lump of wood sing, mare!”

“Like a drunken teen at karaoke.” Maffett injected.

“Why did you even bring that with you?” Dash asked as the motorised trolley started to follow Bristol towards the station entrance, it’s little engine whirling away under the weight of everything it was carrying as they followed.

“It was a present from my Grandparents and a bit of a good luck charm.” He said, this time without the French pronunciation of ‘Grandparents’. “Everyone was trying to find out what my talent was as soon as possible, but they bought this maybe a day before I got this beaut.” He smiled, patting his cutie mark.

Before anyone could question him future, the motorised trolley started jerking forwards, a loud grinding coming from the gear box. As it ground to a halt, one of the gears fell out of the box and rolled away across the platform.

“Looks like it’s time to start pushing.”

Author's Note

The Baltimare race track is almost exactly like the current Grand Prix of Baltimore track as is used in the Indy car series with a few more corners added to the end of the lap in place of the little chicane on the actual track, which is there to reduce the speed of the cars over some train tracks.

ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Practice

The next morning, Lightning Dust stood in her blue and gold racing suit on the pit wall, looking up and down the short pit straight at the back of the track.

She’d noticed the top guns of the league, such as Mercedes and Zip Line, going up to the pit wall at Cloudsdale and she thought she’d go and see what they were looking for or sensing. Besides the direction of the wind, which was straight into her face and likely to be a head wind down the start/finish straight, she couldn’t sense anything.

She figured she may as well stay here with her thoughts as well. After the humiliation of the last race, she wanted to prove how good she was and start moving towards the sharp end of the grid.

Focusing her mind again, she replayed some of the details from the flyer’s meeting that morning. They’d discussed the two escape roads at turn one and turn three at length, discussing their use and to give way to anyone currently on track if a flyer had to return to the track from one of the roads.

They’d also introduced a wild card entry in the form of a griffin called Maverick, a local with an apparently good reputation at a nearby club. The possibility of a safety kart being sent out was also discussed, which would require ponies to slow down and not overtake until the green flag was waved at the start/finish line.

When the team went for a quick track run after the briefing, Dust spent a while investigating the escape road at turn one, which turned back on itself around a road island and re-joined at the entrance of turn two. While she was busy learning, Concorde and Rainbow Dash were swanning about talking to Riggwelter and later Maverick, who seemed to be as much in fancolt heaven as Concorde.

“Dust!” Spanner called from the stable, gaining her attention. “four minutes until practice starts.”

Dust nodded, turning away from the wall but waiting a moment for one of the racing karts to be pushed past. As they were racing on solid ground, there’d be a supporting kart race and Concorde’s father Bristol had been obsessively inspecting them, much to the annoyance of the kart’s owners.

Spanner was waiting for her as she entered the stable and he immediately put her mouth guard, helmet and goggles on. Once satisfied they were secure, he picked up his head phones and microphone.

“Radio check.” He said, his voice coming through the radio clearly.

“Working.” Dust said simply, thought she’d prefer not to have him japing in her ear all the time.

“Good. Head to the end of the pit lane and wait for the green flag.” Spanner said, Dust doing so without a word.

At the end of the pit lane, she landed behind what was clearly Maverick in the queue. His suit was mainly white with a thick blue stripe with pink highlights running down his sides, the number twenty five on his flank. Now she had his tail waving around in her face, she realized she didn’t want to get too close to him and get whipped while flying.

Dust leaned around him to see the marshal with the green flag, who soon waved it over his head to start the session.

She followed the flyers ahead out onto the track, feeding into what was actually the exit of turn eight. Here, the track was fairly narrow and with all the imposing walls it felt incredibly claustrophobic.

“Back off from Maverick, Dust.” Spanner said as she followed him around turn ten. “See if you can get in clean space.”

Dust didn’t see what good clean air would do, but seeing as Maverick was weaving slowly to warm up, she just went around him and carried on.

“That works too, I suppose.” Spanner commented. “You’ve got a good gap to Red Rum, Rainbow Dash and Lecieć ahead so just take your time to get used to the track, we’ll work on fast times in half an hour.”

“Right.” Dust replied, having not really paid attention but hoping a response would keep him quiet.

She came out of the turn thirteen and fourteen chicane and headed down the start/finish straight, a wide enough stretch of road for three ponies to fly side by side. Tram tracks crossed the road shortly after turn fourteen, and were covered up as well as possible so any flyers who crashed wouldn’t get anything caught in them.

As she hurtled towards the first corner, she searched down the left side wall for a reference point she’d noticed a few of the racers looking at. It was somewhere after the one hundred meter board, so for this first lap she decided to slow down next to the board instead. The sharp right hoof corner opened up into turn two, so Dust had plenty of track to use but the huge air fence on the outside of turn one looked more than ready to grab her if she made a mistake.

Turn two was just an acceleration zone, leading into a straight that headed to the turn three hairpin. Spanner had told Dust exactly where the slowing point was, but she backed off early again to make sure she’d get through. Mid-way through the corner, she banked over further as the angle she was at would lead to a meeting with the eager air fence.

Turn four wasn’t a problem, though the wall on the exit of the ninety degree corner almost seemed to lunge at her as she went into the shadow of a warehouse in the middle of the circuit. The relatively high walls made it nearly impossible to see beyond the apex of any corner, so she was always flying into the unknown and leaving very little time to react to anything happening on the exit of a corner.

The turn five, six, seven chicane had something else to be more concerned about. The wall was pulled away from the middle of the chicane, turn six, allowing her to see turn seven, but in its place at the apex of the corner was a five foot wooden pole, which was referred to in the flyers’ briefing as a ‘hook’.

Dust approached it carefully, knowing if she caught this ‘hook’, which was bolted to the ground, at speed it would hurt a heck of a lot. The short chicane gave her very little time to bank left, right and left again to negotiate the corner, but at her low speed she had little difficulty dealing with it. It didn’t seem like a piece of track that would permit much speed, but she imagined if she could attack it, she’d gain a lot, even if overtaking was near impossible.

Turn eight appeared to have little room on entry, but opened up as the track swept left slightly into the entry to turn nine. Nine had a huge amount of track on the outside to use, but another air fence was positioned and eager to meet any flyers who made a mistake. From turn eight down into the sweeping turn ten and eleven, Dust was back out in the day light, making the track look less oppressive.

Turn twelve, thirteen and fourteen were more awkward, the three ninety degree corners coming one after the other in increasingly quick succession. It seemed wide enough, Dust felt as she turned into twelve, but the wall on the exit came towards her much quicker then she expected and she had to jerk away from it to avoid hitting it.

As soon as she was away from the wall, she realised she had to get back over for thirteen, which had just as little room, but in order to get good thrust onto the main straight, she had to move back over to the outside of the track and turn as late as possible into fourteen to give herself as much room to accelerate as possible. It was easier said than done as there was very little straight between thirteen and fourteen, but she was already focused again as she went across the start/finish line and onto another lap.

“Keep it up.” Spanner said simply.

“Leave me alone, I’m flying.” Dust retorted.

“Fair enough, I’ll call if anything important comes up.”

***

As she completed more laps, Dust pushed her slowing points further and further, confident her lap times were improving. She’d already caught and passed Red Rum and Lecieć as they trundled along, but Dash was able to keep her distance ahead, even if her team mate was having as much trouble with the turn five, six, seven and turn thirteen and fourteen chicanes as she was.

“Twenty five minute mark, Dust. You happy to start going for fast laps?” Spanner asked, which gave Dust pause for thought. She’d been going quickly as it was and he was suggesting she wasn’t fast enough.

“I’m already going fast.” She said simply.

“You’re five seconds off the pace at the moment.” Spanner informed, making Dust angry. “You’re within the qualifying time but you’ve got plenty of room to improve. Push your slowing point in turn one and try not to slow down so much through the chicanes and you should be in a good position.”

Dust focused herself as she started another lap. The criticism didn’t help, but she would catch up with the mooks who were faster than her. She slowed later for turn one, leaning in hard and taking a second to glance to her right, back down the track as Concorde had frequently suggested to both her and Dash. Lecieć and Red Rum were close behind, which annoyed her as she thrust hard out of the corner as she thought she’d long since lost them.

As she turned into the hair pin after slowing and turning slightly later, she noticed something red out of the corner of her eye. Focusing on it slightly, she saw it was Red Rum, on the inside of the track, coming straight at her and seemingly out of control. By the time she fully realised, Rum had already hit her in the side and the pair of them were rocketing to the side of the track, where they crashed into the air fences.

The pair rolled back onto the track, Red Rum pulling himself out of the tangle of limbs.

“You ok?” He asked Dust, as did Spanner over the radio, who was laid on her back. Her stomach and sides hurt quite badly and she was having trouble breathing after having the wind knocked out of her, but she didn’t panic as she’d been winded plenty of times before.

“We got her.” One of the marshals called as a two of them came out on track. Dust rolled onto her hooves before being helped up.

“Sorry!” Rum called after her before he took off and re-joined the track.

The marshals help Dust off track, the medic immediately coming to check her.

“Take her to the medical centre.” The medic said after a moment.

“I’m fine, just winded.” Dust protested, getting her breath back.

“That was a pretty heavy hit you took and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll meet you in the medical centre.” Spanner added over the radio, either having heard or knowing what they were doing. Dust sighed, her stomach feeling better but her side still flaring with pain. She’d have to double her efforts now to make sure she didn’t get left behind.

***

Medical checks revealed Dust had sustained a bruised rib in the crash, which took a bit longer to heal then a typical fracture, but she was discharged within thirty minutes of the crash.

Dust wanted to get back out on track as soon as possible, having reviewed her laps in her mind. It would be easier if she didn’t have to deal with the other idiots on track, but she could likely find a reasonably clear piece of track to continue working on her lap times.

“Just a few pointers, Dust.” Spanner said, Dust internally sighing. “You’re taking the chicanes very wide. If you tuck your inside wing in at the right moment, you should be able to straighten them up slightly.

“Your best when you crashed put you twenty third fastest but even right now you’re within qualifying pace.”

“Last?” Dust asked, knowing she'd be at the bottom of the time sheet but wanting confirmation regardless.

“Yes, but there’s plenty of quick improvements you can make.”

“Seriously, what are they doing that I’m not?” Dust said hotly, Spanner slightly taken aback for a moment.

“Come and have a look.” He said after a pause, turning to cross the pit lane.

Spanner stopped as Mercedes glided into the pit lane and past them, followed by Concorde who didn’t react to their presence. Once the road was clear, he quickly walked across and hopped onto the raised area next to the pit wall, where the spotters sat under marquees that were lined up and spaced equally along the wall with the appropriate team’s colours and logos painted onto them.

Dust joined him and looked down the track. From this point, they could see through the turn five, six and seven chicane and back down the back straight towards turn four. Rossi and Typhoon were coming down the back straight, the former darting through the chicane at surprising speed while the latter entered the pit lane.

“How’d he do that?” Dust asked quietly as she watched Rossi head down the pit straight, trying to keep her raising annoyance at bay.

“It’s tricky, from what I’ve been told,” Spanner answered. ”But like throwing your hind out; it’s a skill that you’ll just ‘get’ eventually. Here comes Power Drive, keep an eye on his wings.”

Dust watched as Power Drive came down the straight and into the chicane. He looked slow on entry, but as he turned in to the first left, he tucked in his left wing, almost right against his body. As soon as he passed the first apex, he tucked in his right wing and spread his left wing out fully, the few feathers still sticking out on his right glancing the hook on the inside of the corner. Once past the hook, he spread his right wing out again, coming perilously close to sliding on the track as he tilted and glided into turn nine, where he flapped his wings and quickly accelerated down the straight.

“You were gliding through the whole thing, Dust.” Spanner explained. “Which meant you had to stay further away from the hook. It might be dangerous, but the closer you get to it, the faster you’ll be.”

“How did he do that without losing lift?” Dust asked, slightly in awe.

“Before he entered the chicane, he flapped hard and raised himself about half a meter off the ground, and he was near enough falling all the way through.”

“So he’s basically falling through the corners?”

“I suppose, yeah.”

“Right.” Dust said finally, grabbing her helmet and goggles.

“Don’t forget, you can’t go any higher than two meters.” Spanner reminded her as he made sure her equipment was tight. Dust didn’t answer as she turned, hopped off the wall and glided down the pit lane. A quick glance at the clock next to the pit exit told her she had another hour left, so plenty of time to work on this ‘falling through corners’ thing.

ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Qualifying

Racers were encouraged to go to bed early. It was important to be relaxed, ready and full of energy ahead of a hard day of fast flying through perilously thin tracks. Though dealing with the foals she managed, Fleetfoot had to pretty much order her team to go to bed when she found them messing around in the lounge of the hotel.

Lightning Dust was sharing a room with Rainbow Dash after the team drew straws and her fellow Wonderbolts Academy graduate and tattle tale was currently snoozing away.

Dust, meanwhile, was still awake; watching her camera footage on a laptop while also wearing a pair of high quality headphones she’d found in their team stable. She wasn’t particularly bothered about disturbing Dash, but she didn’t want her to know what she was doing.

Once the footage of her lap finished, she played the footage of Nicki Hest’s pole position lap from the previous season.

Dust frowned as she watched his lap unfold, taking considerably more speed into corners and getting much closer to barriers then she was, possibly even glancing them more then once. She strained her ears for any sounds that could help her improve her lap, but eventually gave up and focused on the footage itself.

The Danish Pegasus’ movements were incredible to watch, even more so considering he was the oldest competitor on the grid. His snap rolls and thrusts were fast, precise and almost effortless as he propelled himself through the tricky turn five, six, seven chicane.

Dust had been working on her snap rolls throughout practice two to try and speed herself up through the chicanes and while she was getting quicker, she was still in the bottom five flyers. She had to get closer to the barriers to get faster and further up the grid.

Dust leaned back against her pillow, her eyes slightly heavy. She’d continue watching the footage after a quick nap, so she allowed her eyes to close. The next thing she remembered was the sound of the laptop being slammed shut, which jolted her away.

The sun was up and the curtains drawn, a light breeze carrying bird song into the room. Dust looked at Fleetfoot stood next to her bed, who was wearing a very amuse smirk.

“Rise and shine cadet. Breakfast in five.” She said before walking out of the room. As she walked out of the door, Concorde walked in carrying a bowl and noticed Dust was awake.

“Aw, Fleet! I had a water bowl ready and everything!” He said, sounding disappointed before following her out. After a second, he poked his head back around the door. “Morning!” He added brightly before disappearing again.

***

The day seemed slow while Dust was stuck in the hours leading up to Qualifying, where she desperately wanted to show how good she was. Once qualifying started, however, time seemed to speed up as Dust thundered around lap after lap, her times keeping her in the bottom five.

“Three minutes left, Dust.” Spanner informed her, which kept breaking her concentration. “You’ll have two more laps left at the end of this one.”

“Got it. Stop with the damn countdown.” Dust shot back, missing the apex of turn eight and having to slow to avoid the wall.

The constant reminders were getting on her nerves and she desperately wanted to focus. She glided through turns nine and ten towards the final group of corners, Mercedes and Rossi speeding past her as she focused herself, shaking her head to try and focus her mind. The turn five, six, seven and turn fourteen and fifteen chicanes had been the bane of her existence on this track and she was going to get them right this time.

After gliding through turn thirteen, she started to accelerate and banked fully over into turn fourteen giving herself as straight an exit as she could as he sped down the long main straight. Even if it wasn’t as long as Cloudsdale’s Morning Glory, it still felt like it went on forever as Dust spotted her slowing point while also trying to ignore the flyer ahead of her.

She pushed her slowing marker a fraction further then it had been and threw herself out as wide as possible, with her wings and both front and back wings fully spread to drag her speed down. The corner seemed to still be coming up fast to meet her and she was risking being too wide, so she banked herself over and accelerated through the turn, coming perilously close to an embrace with the air barrier.

Dust allowed herself to breath, having held her breath as she slowed and turned. That was the fastest she’d been through turn one but she had to keep herself focused with another thirteen corners to deal with.

Dust flapped her wings hard as she went through turn two, past a slow moving Lotus Stream, who moved well out of the way as Dust headed for turn three. She threw herself out as wide as possible again to slow down fast as late as she could before banking over, making sure the wall at the apex of the corner would pass above her head before speeding up towards turn four.

It was an easy corner, but with it being hidden in the shadow of the warehouse in the middle of the track it became trickier as her references were difficult to see. She forced the detail from her mind and threw herself into the corner, perfectly throwing her hind around and countering the movement to turn perfectly ninety degrees to head towards the first of the dreaded chicanes.

As she went down the back straight, the ‘hook’ on the inside of turn six almost seemed to wave to her, as if letting her know it was ready to get her if she made even the slightest of mistakes, but now wasn’t the time for misgivings. She knew she was quick after the first part of the track and she’d be damned if she’d back out now.

Dust desperately wanted to screw her eyes shut as she tucked her left wing in to take turn five, the tips of her feathers barely sticking out as she snap rolled into the corner, hurtling left. Forcing her eyes to stay open, she snap rolled back the one hundred and eighty degrees she needed and reversed her wings, turning her right and extending her left wing again fully.

Her eyes barely kept up with the rapid direction change and she desperately hopped she wouldn’t be having a sudden meeting with the hook on the inside. Barely any time after that thought crossed her mind, she felt something brush her body for a moment.

Without thinking, she thrust her right wing back out and snap rolled back into turn five, flapping her wings hard to get the thrust down the pit straight. She’d defiantly glanced the hook, but now wasn’t the time to consider how lucky she was as she thundered into turn seven, her heart pounding hard enough to be noticed even at the speeds she was travelling.

She threw herself into turn eight, tilted right over to make sure she got the lift to make the corner, but this time making sure she tilted back sooner so she could get the thrust out as she beat her wings, against clipping the air fence as she went by.

The massive amount of road on the outside of turn nine simply didn’t seem enough as she barrelled into the corner, barely slowing down. The air fence looked more than ready to grab her as her line took her closer and closer, but she just about missed it as she turned to head down the straight to turn ten.

With the speed she was carrying, she could simply glide through turn ten and eleven, running the tip of her wing against each wall as she went through.

The turn twelve and the final chicane came next, the corners she’d struggled with the most. Remembering the footage of Hest’s lap she’d watched last night, she remembered there were three points where she needed to turn. She slowed, trying to keep as much speed as she dared as she banked into turn twelve late, trying not to tense up as she came close to glancing the wall at the apex.

Her line would bring her gently over to the right wall on the short straight ahead of turn thirteen, giving her time to quickly thrust herself forwards before slowing again. As Hest had done the previous year, she didn’t level out before banking fully into turn thirteen, again fighting off the urge to tense up.

She’d clipped two apexes perfectly, but if she didn’t get the last corner right then she would ruin her drive for the line and waste her effort. As her line took her across the middle of the short straight between thirteen and fourteen, she snap rolled left before throwing her hind around as carefully as she could. The sharp change in direction worked as, as soon as she saw the open main straight ahead, she flapped her wings with all her might and propelled herself to the finish line.

“Eighth, Dust.” Spanner said excitedly after she crossed the line, sounding as if he’d been holding his breath for the whole lap. “You’ve got one more lap.”

Eighth. Better, Dust thought; considerably better, but she could do better as she grit her teeth and hurtled for the first corner.

She pushed her slowing mark, throwing her hind into the turn, brushing against the inside wall as she had done the previous lap. Once satisfied, she focused her gaze on the second corner. As she levelled out slightly to prepare to snap roll into the turn, she felt the tip of her left wing rub against the air fence.

Before she could form the thought to move away, she realised she was still drifting left into the barrier and the joint of her wing caught it, causing her to veer left into and bounce off the barrier. She managed to push off the barrier and flat spin back to facing the right direction, but the damage had already been done and her lap was ruined barely after it started.

“F***!” She explosively swore, even being heard by some of the marshals she passed.

“Don’t worry about it, Dust. Box this lap and remember to keep out of the way.”

Dust grit her teeth and sighed, her heart still pounding. She glided along the side of the track, keeping an eye over her shoulder for anyone else, but it seemed she was largely in clear track as she returned to the pits.

“Last lap’s just finished, Dust.” Spanner informed her, leaning back and looking down the pit lane as Dust glided along. “You’re eleventh on the grid.”

“Wait, what? I thought I was eighth?” Dust exclaimed, surprised and angry at the news.

“You were, but Quicksilver, Red Rum and Nicki Hest put in quicker laps.” Spanner replied, making her angry as she flew into the team’s stable. “Power Drive was set to beat your lap too but Skyline blocked him. Should put him to the back of the grid. Still, it’s fantastic work after starting at the back of the grid last ti-”

Spanner’s voice was cut off as Dust took her helmet off, the cable for the radio detaching at the same time.

“Good lap, Dust.” Fleetfoot commented, making notes on a clip board. “Concorde was ninth and Rainbow Dash was nineteenth.” Fleet added, which initially annoyed but then pleased Dust. She’d obliterated Dash, which would look more then good on any records Spitfire was keeping. Beating the idiot Yorkshire pony would just have to wait for tomorrow.

Author's Note

Qualifying Order:
1. Rossi (1:25.025)
2. Ekstrom
3. Zip Line
4. Mercedes
5. Typhoon
6. Nicki Hest
7. Quicksilver
8. Wolke
9. Concorde
10. Red Rum
11. Lightning Dust
12. Jorge
13. Blitzen
14. Dawn Wisp
15. Power Drive
16. Aperto Jnr
17. Wildfire
18. Velocidade
19. Rainbow Dash
20. Leciec
21. Lotus Stream
22. Maverick (Wildcard)
23. Auroras Encore
24. Riggwelter
25. Skyline (Penalty)

ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Build Up

Lightning Dust sat in the team’s VIP room above their stable as the supporting kart race started outside. Twelve karts were competing and the high pitched whine and the roar of their magic and gas powered engines respectively was aggravating as she wanted to review overtaking tactics for the race. There was no doubt in her mind she was going to pass everyone, but she figured it may be useful to find the best way to do it so she didn’t have to mess around with them for too long.

At present, only she, Rarity, Coco and two members of the Red Hawks team who had been brought in to do a pre-race display after the Wonderbolts were forced to cancel, Tupolev and Caterham, occupied the room and they were watching out of the window to see the cars come past on the first lap. The rest of the Wonderhawks, Red Hawks and their guests were on the pit wall to watch the karts as they screamed and roared off the line behind the buildings, wheels spinning like crazy.

The ponies at the window watched the TV as the karts got away, two karts locking up their brakes and going down the escape road at turn one. In the turn three hairpin, two of the karts in the middle of the field collided with one of them going straight on into the air fence, breaking front suspension. Rarity and Coco both gasped and covered their mouths as the driver hit the wheel in anger before climbing out unharmed.

“Here they come!” Caterham cheered as the karts turned out of turn four and headed for the chicane, drawing their attention back out of the window.

While streamline, the karts were lethargic and twitchy, having to nearly free-wheel through the corners without power to avoid spinning around. Those watching gasped as the leader came out of the chicane onto the pit straight, opened the throttle and the back end started to come around, being knocked back into line when it glanced the wall.

“They must be insane.” Rarity commented as the rest of the field went by, the engines propelling the karts out of the corners quickly, but not as quickly as the cloud racers.

“Well, you have to be to strap yourself into what may as well be a mobile coffin.” Caterham chuckled. The emerald green mare and her pure white friend Tupolev were the Red Hawks’ latest members and were both quite young. Tupolev was very quiet, but Caterham loved to talk.

Rarity and Coco exchanged worried glances as the rest of the team came back up the stairs.

“You should have seen him when we were leaving Whitbay.” Concorde was saying to Ratchett as they entered the room. “He obsessed over the Mallard train and needed reminding I was leaving on it.”

“I bet he was more disappointed you got to ride on that train then the fact you were leaving.” Rainbow Dash remarked, which caused Fleetfoot behind her to laugh.

“Could have gone either way, aye.” He smiled.

Leader of the Red Hawks Hurricane followed Fleetfoot in, who was in turn followed by his highly experienced team mates Reggiane and Messerschmitt.

The blood red stallion with canary yellow mane and tail of Reggiane, or Reggie to his team, winked at Rarity and Coco, both of whom smiled in return. He was likely twice their age, but he was still probably the most charming and handsome stallion they’d ever met, which was saying something.

Messerschmitt, a silver stallion with white mane and tail, looked somewhat serious but was anything but. Known as Smitty by the team, he was potentially more experienced even then Hurricane and Spitfire but seemed to have a million strange little interests, mainly in obscure B-movies and near useless trivia.

They did have a sixth member of their team, Radio Phone, but she was taking advantage of being able to access the commentary booth and was watching the kart race from there while preparing for the team’s performance.

“Right, Red Hawks.” Hurricane addressed his team. “Are we ready?”

“We are ready, yes.” Smitty said as Reggie went to have a quick chat with Rarity.

“Got enough post cards now, Smitty?” Caterham asked, smirking.

“You can never have enough post cards.” He smiled back.

“You’ve got to have at least a million post cards by now.” Maffett remarked.

“Three thousand and sixteen at last count.”

“Enough.” Hurricane cut in, sounding serious. “This is our first major performance that’s also going to be televised so I want you all fully focused.”

“Looking forwards to your new theme song, Hurri?” Concorde asked, sitting on the table and grabbing his guitar

“What are you talking about, lad?” Hurricane inquired.

Here I am,
Rock you like a hurricane!

Concorde sang loudly in response, playing his guitar in sync with the music in his head.

Hurricane just looked at the grinning Concorde as he played the tune. The timing was right but the notes were completely wrong, though the unamused and enthusiastic looks on Hurricane's and Concorde's faces respectively were still funny.

“I don’t have a theme song.” Hurricane said simply.

“You do now.” Concorde, Maffett, and the rest of the Red Hawks said in unison before laughing.

“Go get ready.” Hurricane ordered his team after a moment, who just laughed before doing as he said, wishing the racers luck before leaving.

“Try not to do anything stupid.” Hurricane said to Concorde before following them out.

“Might be asking a lot there.” Concorde remarked as he played around with his guitar.

“Do you have to play that in here?” Maffett asked.

“Does it make much difference where I play it?”

“What happened to those headphones I bought and left with your guitar, anyway?”

“What headphones?” Concorde asked, surprised. Dust opted not to say anything.

“I bought you headphones so we didn’t have to listen to you playing.”

“Really? Thanks, but I haven’t seen any.”

Maffett sighed, annoyed as Concorde played around with the strings and tuned them slightly.

“Come on, Maffett, any requests?” Concorde mocked. She just rolled her eyes and heading for the stairs down to the stables.

“Erm, Mr Concorde?” Coco asked, raising her hoof. “Do you know anything by Bridle Adams?”

There was a moment of silence before Concorde stood up on his hind legs and belted out the opening of Summer of ’69, still completely out of tune but at least vaguely in time as he sang.

I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-bit
Played it 'til my hooves bled
It was the summer of '69

“You mad mare.” Maffett sighed to herself as she past Lightning Dust, who was starting to get bored of the shenanigans as well and opted to follow Maffett down into the stable below while they waited for the kart race to end.

***

Dust considered the flight from the pits around to the grid to be somewhat pointless, what with the cut through they could use. Spanner insisted it was useful to get a feel for the track ahead of the race, but besides the small breeze on the main straight, which she could just feel while standing on the grid, she felt nothing new.

Roughly an hour after the kart race had finished, the grid was filled with racers, their pit crews, TV crews and plenty of celebrities and sponsors, more so then Cloudsdale now they were on the ground. Baseball players, mayoral officials, actors, a load of ponies who wanted to be seen at a sporting event. She wasn’t particularly interested in them, just as she wasn’t interested in the Red Hawks above as they went about their performance. They weren’t anywhere near the same league as the Wonderbolts after all, so why waste the energy to look up? She had her race to think about and how she was going to beat everyone.

Dust closed her eyes and visualised the race, her lightning start that would be raved about for years to come. She’d reviewed her qualifying lap several times as well so she’d be able to repeat it lap after lap.

She’d made adjustments to it in her mind after watching Rossi’s pole position lap. He was confident enough to start flapping his wings mid-way through the infamously tricky chicanes and so far as she could tell was practically rubbing his belly along some of the walls on corner exit. She knew she could emulate that for the full eighty laps and then she’d be on top of the podium, an invite to the Wonderbolts practically waiting there for her.

Dust opened her eyes noticed the EBC commentator DC walk by, talking to camera and also indicating to her for a moment before carrying on. He’d probably thought about asking her how she was going to win before deciding against it for whatever reason, though it didn’t really bother her much, though she did notice there wasn’t much going on in the sky.

She looked up and wondered why only one of the Hawks was in view. The white trail suggested it was Tupolev as he hurtled over her head. Barely any time later, Caterham hurtled by in the opposite direction, fully banked over and following Tupolev’s trail in the other direction as the crowd gasped in awe.

Perhaps that was the famous Syncro-Pair she’d been told about by Concorde in the few moments she hadn’t gotten bored of his stupid voice. Still, she might just look into the move if the TV were recording it, see just how impressive it really was.

She checked her goggles and helmet while the activity on the grid quietened down, the celebrities getting shepherded off track as Spanner helped Dust get her helmet, googles and mouth guard on.

“I want you to take the start carefully. Jorge and Blitzen are fast starters so watch out for them.” He informed her, before stepping back and turning his headset on. “Radio.” He asked as a test.

“On.” Dust replied, confirming it was working.

He smiled as he offered his hoof, which she half-heartedly bumped. He seemed satisfied though.

“Good luck.” Spanner said before heading off the grid.

Finally, she was largely alone with her thoughts, on a grid of twenty three losers she was about to beat. She was confident she could replicate her qualifying lap and she’d been studying overtaking techniques so she could get past the other racers quickly without worry. It was her chance and she was going to take it.

As soon as the marshal waved the flag to send the racers on their warm up lap, Dust shot off down the straight. Now was her time to shine.

ECRL Round 2: Baltimare - Race

Lightning Dust was one of the first to get back to the grid after the warm up lap, landing on her eleventh place starting position and immediately doing some last minute stretches.

“The last flier’s currently in turn nine.” Spanner informed her. “You should have about a minute before the race starts.”

Dust rolled her eyes, disappointed they’d make her wait for so long. She watched Concorde glide past and land on his eighth place starting position and start stretching as well. This was her chance to put him in his place; firmly in her shadow. She was better than him and Rainbow Dash combined and on these streets, she was going to prove it.

“Last flier’s coming through turn twelve.” Spanner said.

“Just tell me when they’re getting the flag ready.” Dust replied, not wanting a breakdown of the movements of everyone behind her.

“Very well.”

Dust made sure her suit and helmet were tight, so she’d look good on the cameras as she whistled past her opposition.

“Grid’s full and the flag’s getting ready. Good luck.” Spanner informed her and Dust looked up to see he was right.

She readied herself to pounce off the line as the Equestrian flag was held up by one of Baltimare’s Baseball players. He held it up for barely a second before waving it down to start the race.

Dust leapt forwards, flapping her wings to pick up speed as those around her did the same. She focused on Concorde to see where he would go, but he seemed to be accelerating faster than she was and getting away.

“On your right!” Spanner said over the radio and Dust glanced over, seeing the tip of someone’s nose starting to go down the inside of her.

There was no way she was going to start losing positions and especially not before they even reached the first corner, so she moved over to the right to put whoever it was off trying to overtake.

Once satisfied whoever it was had backed off, Dust focused forwards again and suddenly realised just how close to the first corner they were. The field had slowed down and were turning into the corner ahead, so she did everything she could to slow down and not t-bone someone.

She was just about able to do so and found herself stuck between three ponies and the wall at the apex of the corner with no room to manoeuvre. As the field accelerated out of the corner, she had to pull to the right to get some breathing room and realised those who had been on her outside were getting out of the corner faster.

“Stick to that side and try and overtake into the hair pin. Slow early to compensate.” Spanner said over the radio as Dust accelerated up the straight. She could see there were now five ponies separating her and Concorde and the realization made her angry.

She dived into the hairpin; far too fast she realized after a moment and missed the apex. Blitzen, who was ahead of her, saw her coming and backed out of the corner, allowing Dust to shoot by in front of him though Dust managed to get herself back under control before the wall.

She reoriented herself, now practically next to the wall on the outside of the hairpin and saw not only Blitzen go back ahead, but also Dawn Wisp, Power Drive and, to her near fury, Rainbow Dash.

Only three corners into the race and she’d lost several places. Being on the better line, Rainbow Dash accelerated out of the corner quicker than Dust could as she gave chase.

“You’re sixteenth.” Spanner informed her. “Rainbow Dash ahead, Skyline behind.”

Dust didn’t answer, his words washing over her as she was furious this could have happened.

“Typhoon had a coming together with Hest and Ekström at turn one. Ekström’s just gone off track so he’s out, but keep an eye out for Typhoon coming back through the field.” Spanner added and again Dust didn’t pay him much notice.

She chased as hard as she could over the next few corners, past the pit lane entrance and into flowing corners at the back of the track.

“Just so you know, the wind’s picked up down the main straight.” Spanner informed her. “You’ll need to work harder but you can slow later into turn one.

“Shut up, I’m racing.” Dust snapped, shocking Spanner in silence for a few moments.

“Fair enough.” He eventually said as Dust went through turn nine. “I’ll let you know if anything important comes up.”

Dust followed Dash’s tail as they approached the last few corners, acting as a multi-coloured rag to a fuming bull as Dust snap rolled right and then left, prepared to propel herself past down the main straight.

Dust went to flap her wings before her left wing caught the wall at the apex, jarring her suddenly left. She quickly managed to pull her wing away from the wall and get it moving again to maintain lift, but her momentum was destroyed and more racers shot past her as she desperately tried to get back up to speed again.

“Calm down, Dust.” Spanner said over Dust’s frustrated swearing. “Take a lap to cool down and then get in rhythm. There’s still a long way to go and you can make up ground.”

“What do you mean ‘get in rhythm’?” Dust shot back.

“I mean get some clean laps in and build up your pace.” He answered. “You’re twentieth at the moment, but you can make it back up.”

Damn right she could. Now was the time to start pumping in repeats of her qualifying lap. She threw herself into the corners, slowing late and hard in order to try and catch back up with Velocidade ahead. Each slowing point brought her gradually closer over the next few laps, but Spanner still hadn’t taken the hint to be quiet.

“Dust, you’re going to over exert yourself.” He said over the radio after only three laps. “Slow more gently into corner.”

“I’m trying to catch back up.”

“That style of slowing only works in qualifying; you’ll just tire yourself before the halfway point.”

“I’m right on Vecrodad or whatever his name is.”

“You’re quicker then Velocidade, yes, but you’ll still tire yourself. You can use that style of slowing to overtake, but don’t do it lap after lap.”

“Whatever.” Dust sighed as she followed Velocidade out of the last chicane, this time being careful to give the turn fourteen apex a wider berth.

She chased Velocidade down the straight, but as soon as they reached the start/finish line she realised she’d be able to simply fly straight by him on the straight and did so, slowing late and hard again to make sure she was ahead.

“Good move.” Spanner commented. “Leciéc is next, one second ahead. Rainbow Dash is in thirte-”

“I don’t care what they’re doing!” Dust cut him off.

“Right, ok.” He replied after a moment. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

“Yes.”

With that, Spanner went quiet and Dust continued on as hard and fast as she could.

***

Dust pushed for all she was worth through every corner, lap after lap. After her disastrous first lap she’d managed to make her way up from twentieth to sixteenth, setting the fastest lap in the process. It wasn’t good enough, but she still had over half of the race to go and she was confident she could get into the points.

But around lap thirty, things started to change. She’d felt niggling strains building up over time but now her wing joints were starting to ache horribly from the continued effort of accelerating and slowing down and the pain was only getting worse.

“So, do you believe me now?” Spanner asked flippantly as her lap times rapidly plummeted over the next five laps, finally saying something other than time differences.

“Get stuffed.”

“Take ten laps to get your breath back.” He continued, unfazed.

Dust beat her wings as they continued to nearly beg her for respite, but as much as it pained her to admit it she did need to rest.

She started to take more time over slowing and stopped accelerating with as much vigour as Maverick, who she'd been chasing, got away. It didn’t take long for Dawn Wisp, Velocidade, Auroras Encore and then Leciéc to catch back up and pass her either, which only caused to infuriate her more as each slipped past. All her hard fought progress was wasted.

The ten laps ticked by almost painfully slowly as she watched Leciéc get further away, not to mention putting up with being told the rate at which Typhoon was catching.

“Ten laps, Spanner. Is that enough or not?” Dust asked as she crossed the line for the tenth time, her annoyance not subsiding. The aching hadn’t fully gone but her wings felt significantly better than they had ten laps previous.

“I’d say so, get going and remember to slow and accelerate more gradually.” Spanner answered. “Typhoon’s a second behind after he clipped the turn six hook.”

Dust didn’t answer as she started pushing, almost immediately starting to pull Leciéc back towards her. Progress was much slower than before as she reluctantly followed Spanner’s advice, but it didn’t take as long as she initially worried it would to catch and pass him on the run into turn three.

She carried on for the next few laps, everything feeling painfully slow as she closed steadily in on Aurora ahead. It seemed he was reacting to her catching him and trying to speed up.

“You’re point two of a second faster than Aurora at the moment.” Spanner informed her. “Just so you’re aware, Typhoon seems to be waiting around point eight of a second behind you, likely for a rest.”

Dust wasn’t concerned about Typhoon, but as she followed Aurora through turn eight, she saw him bobble slightly. The mistake put him slightly off line and she closed in on him into turn nine. He managed to exit the corner well enough to keep ahead, but Dust was right on his tail as they exited turn fourteen and hurtled down the main straight.

Rather than following the racing line, Aurora stayed on the right side of the track to prevent Dust from having the inside line. It didn’t bother her, he was slower than her down the straight, so she ducked to the right and was suddenly reminded there was a strong breeze.

If she was standing still, it would be a comfortable breeze on a sunny day, but at the speeds she was travelling it felt like a sudden, strong gust hitting her straight in the face. The surprise impeded her advance just enough to leave her on the outside as they slowed for turn one, Aurora staying ahead as Dust filed in behind him.

As they accelerated out of turn two, Dust tried to jink around Aurora to get the inside line into turn three, but he was ahead of her and defended the inside line again.

“Dust, drop back slightly.” Spanner said as they headed through turn four.

“Drop back? Why would I drop back?” Dust asked, the request making no sense to her.

“You’re faster on the straight but if you’re far back enough Aurora won’t have time to prepare a defence.”

It was an interesting thought, but it made some form of sense so she opted to follow it this time.

Through the chicane, Dust glided a little longer so Aurora had a bit of a gap as they headed into the tail end of the lap.

As they came out of turn thirteen, Dust noticed Aurora glance over his shoulder and she knew she had the advantage. His moment of looking behind was enough to leave him slightly off line as Dust nailed the last chicane.

She had the run on Aurora as they hurtled over the start/finish line, gaining on him at a vast rate of knots and while he partially followed the racing line, sitting in the middle of the track in case he needed to block, Dust took the opportunity and jinked right onto the inside line.

She’d barely gone a few inches when her flank collided with something. Almost instantly she was facing and heading for the wall that had been to her right, bouncing off it and landing on her belly on the track.

She screwed her eyes shut as she slid along the track, slowly spinning as she went. Her leather racing suit held up against the tarmac as she hoped not to collide with the wall on the outside of the first corner. After a moment that felt like an eternity, just waiting for the impact, she opened her eye and saw she was sliding towards the escape road next to the first corner. She soon slid to a halt, where she jumped back into the air and flew up the escape road that would allow her to re-join the track.

“You ok, Dust?” Spanner asked, concerned.

“What the hay was that?” She asked in return as she accelerated back onto the track behind Leciéc as he hurtled past.

“Typhoon.” He answered. “He darted out to go around you just as you were going to go around Aurora. Safety Kart’s coming out, so slow down and line up behind Leciéc. Do not over take!”

Dust sighed as she noticed yellow flags being held out at every marshal post she passed, along with a large board with ‘SK’ written on it.

“Once you get in line, weave a bit and put some pressure on your wings, keep them warmed up for the restart.” Spanner informed her as she lined up behind Leciéc. She’d lost three places thanks to that collision, but at least she was right behind them again.

“Typhoon’s stuck under the air fencing on the outside of turn one and they have to detach it from the barriers to get him out, so this may take about four laps.” Spanner added.

“How many’s left?”

“Twenty laps left and you’re nineteenth. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She lied, still furious.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Dust was about to answer back before she noticed a constant stinging pain in her nose. Without thinking, she touched it to see if it was further injured and the pain intensified drastically.

“Dammit, I think my nose’s broken.” She cursed, now acutely aware of the pain and bleeding.

“Right, come into the pits and we’ll sort you out.”

“No, I’m carrying on.”

“Don’t be daft, come in and we’ll have you sorted and back out on the lead lap.”

“Then I’ll be last.”

“There’s only three behind you and you’ll be right on their tails.”

“I’ll still be last.” She retorted as she went past the pit entrance.

“Listen, Dust;” Spanner said calmly. “Either you come in willingly or you’ll get disqualified. I know a broken nose isn’t going to stop you flying but it still counts as an obvious injury as you could choke on your own blood and if you have another crash you’ll do far worse damage to yourself. I’ll have a medic ready and waiting for you on the next lap.”

Dust rolled her eyes at the near enough order. Disqualification would look terrible on her score card, so she might as well get it over with. As the line of flyers glided slowly through the first corner, almost all of them looked over to see the air fence had been pulled away and three medics were knelt around Typhoon on the floor as they checked him.

One of the medics reached for something and Dust got a clear look straight into Typhoon’s eyes, who gave her a pretty venomous look. She continued towards the hairpin, not particularly concerned as he could complain and cry all he liked; it was his fault, she felt.

As instructed, Dust entered the pit lane, slowing to the painfully slow glide they were required to do. Spanner stood by their stable with the lap board to let her know where to pull in and, as promised, he had a medic stood next to him.

“Right, hold still.” The unicorn Medic said as Dust landed, magically pulling Dust’s mouth guard out and away from her nose so she didn’t cause more pain. “Yep, that’s a doozy but it’ll only take a minute.” The Medic smiled as Dust spat blood into a nearby drain.

Dust tried to keep herself from screwing her face up as the familiar feeling of searing magic worked its way around her face. It seemed every second took agonising hours as Dust was well aware the field was getting away from her, especially when she heard the track commentator say Typhoon had been taken to the hospital and the air fence was being put back in position.

“Right, you’re good to go.” The Medic eventually confirmed, though Dust’s nose was still extremely painful and sensitive as Spanner put her still blood soaked mouth guard back on. Without even waiting for Spanner to say anything, Dust set off down the pit lane and back onto the clear track.

“Safety kart’s coming in at the end of the next lap. You’re twenty-third with ten laps to go.” Spanner informed her. “Line up behind Riggwelter and stick with his speed until the green flag’s announced and you come onto the main straight, then you should be able to pass him into the first corner.”

Dust didn’t answer. She was now about half a lap behind the field and she flew quickly in order to catch back up, still aware of the taste of blood.

Dust hustled to get back on the tail end of the field, just assay catching back up with Riggwelter as the pack started to slow and bunch up as the leader prepared to make their jump out of the last corner.

“Green, green, green.” Spanner said as the pack made their way through the final two corners, those ahead speeding up as the race restarted.

Without a word, Dust ducked around the outside of Riggwelter as he was held up by the concertinaing pack, but almost immediately realised her only route was straight into the wall on the outside of turn fourteen so she backed out as the pack accelerated away.

“Pick your passes carefully, Dust.” Spanner advised. “Everyone’s going to be fully rested and pushing like mad to the end.”

Dust again ignored him as she tried to make up for backing out on the exit of turn fourteen. She closed back in on Riggwelter by turn one and managed to get onto his inside ahead of turn three.

Most of the flyers were packed towards the inside of turn three, so she backed off slightly sooner to make sure she’d slow down enough. Ahead, she saw someone go for an inside pass and collided with someone, the pair of them tumbling towards the air fence on the outside of the corner, the griffin Maverick hanging back slightly before hurtling through the gap the two had just accidentally vacated.

In the moment she’d been watching them crash, Dust realised she wasn’t slowing enough so she threw her wings and legs out as far as possible to stop, almost at a dead halt on the apex of turn three with Riggwelter next to her. She quickly thrust herself out of the corner and was now ahead of him.

“Good move. That was Aperto and Power Drive going off but I doubt they’ll have enough pace to catch back up in the remaining laps.” Spanner informed her. “Next up is Aurora who had a bad restart.”

There was now less than a second gap between Dust and Aurora, close enough for her to feel the turbulent air left in Aurora’s wake. As the pair finished the lap, Dust went to dive down Aurora’s inside but he closed the gap before she got into it, forcing her to jink to the left to avoid a collision.

Dust tried to turn back into the corner, but had to turn away again as Aurora managed to occupy the space she was aiming for first, getting a better thrust out of the corner so Dust couldn’t look into turn three.

She followed him through the rest of the lap, not in position to do much more then follow him. As they came back onto the main straight again, Dust stayed on the racing line to try and trick Aurora into doing the same, but he remained on the inside, defending the line. She tried to cut back in to get a better thrust through turn one, but Aurora cut across in front of her again, impeding her as he had the previous lap.

Again, Dust was forced to stay behind him for another lap, this time following Aurora closely out of turn fourteen onto the main straight. Tucked right up behind, Dust had the least of the breeze to fight and was much faster as she jinked to the left to try and go around the outside of the still defensive Aurora.

This time, however, Aurora started to move over to the left as Dust did, forcing her wider and impeding her corner entry more. Dust tried to cut back underneath him to get the inside line, but he was able to turn tight enough and as he did accidentally whipped Dust in the face with his tail.

A spike of pain blasted through her recently broken and repaired nose and she involuntarily yelped. She was more than just angry now as they accelerated out of turn one.

Sick of playing around with him, Dust immediately threw herself towards the inside of the track before Aurora’s line took him there and forced herself into the gap as he drifted over to try and defend again. With so little space, she had to raise her wings and glide on perilously little lift, but she was able to keep on the inside of the corner and Aurora was forced to let her go through.

As she was first onto the apex of the corner, she decided to nearly come to a complete halt to force Aurora to stop before thrusting hard out and onto the short straight towards turn four, leaving Aurora well behind and fending off Riggwelter.

“Nice one, if somewhat aggressive.” Spanner came over the radio. “Just so you know, the stewards are calling your incident with Typhoon a racing incident so don’t worry about any penalties.”

“I’m racing, darn it! Stop bothering me!” Dust shot back, sick to death of him.

“Just thought you’d like to know. Eight laps left.”

***

Despite pushing with all her might, the gap between herself and Velocidade didn’t close enough. There was a moment when she thought she’d catch him into turn three, but Dust caught a slight breeze on the back of her inside wing and bobbled just enough to destroy what hopes she had of catching him.

Dust exited the last corner and saw the chequered flag waving, a feeling of relief and extreme annoyance washing over her as she went past.

Leciéc, Lotus Stream, Velocidade, they were right in front of her and if she had one or two laps more, she could have passed them.

“That’s a nineteenth place finish. All things considering, not a bad job Dust.” Spanner said. “You showed some good speed out there. Vanhoover should play more to your strengths so don’t worry too much.”

“Rainbow Dash slipped back to fifteenth while Concorde finished eighth after clipping the turn six hook a couple times.” He added, not that Dust cared.

It had been a brilliant opportunity and it had been ruined. Starting the moment she gets back to Ponyville, she’d double her training and make sure those mistakes don’t happen again.

Author's Note

Race Result:
1. Zip Line
2. Rossi
3. Wolke
4. Mercedes
5. Blitzen
6. Quicksilver
7. Red Rum
8. Concorde
9. Wildfire
10. Nicki Hest
11. Blitzen
12. Dawn Wisp
13. Skyline
14. Maverick (Wildcard)
15. Rainbow Dash
16. Velocidade
17. Lotus Stream
18. Leciéc
19. Lightning Dust
20. Auroras Encore
21. Riggwelter
22. Aperto Jnr
23. Power Drive (DNF)
24. Typhoon (DNF)
25. Ekström (DNF)

Championship Standings:
1. Zip Line – 43
2. Wolke – 30
3. Ekstrom – 25
4. Mercedes – 24
5. Rossi – 18
6. Blitzen – 10
7. Quicksilver – 10
8. Concorde – 10
9. Power Drive – 10
10. Jorge – 8
11. Dawn Wisp – 4
12. Nicki Hest – 1
13. Aperto Jnr – 1

So, what have we Learned?

Lightning Dust and Spanner sat in the small room Fleetfoot had earmarked for her, what may as well be patented, debriefings of terror. What was an overly large broom cupboard seemed almost deliberately set up to scare those inside, though Dust was less concerned about criticism and more bothered by the continued savage stinging in her nose. The medic who healed her had told her after the race that it was possible for it to start randomly bleeding over the next couple days, which wasn’t making her feel any better.

Fleet read over her notes carefully, as if she was evaluating Dust for promotion. It was odd she had so many notes as Dust had only rarely seen her actually write anything.

“So, Dust.” Fleet said simply, regarding on her racer as she laid her clipboard down. “How do you feel your weekend went?”

Dust wasn’t sure if Fleet wanted an essay as an answer, but for Dust there was only one way she felt she could describe it.

“It was a disaster.” She growled, her anger still not fully gone. Spanner looked at her, somewhat surprised by her response.

“That’s rather extreme, Dust.” Fleet replied. “Considering you only just qualified for the first race, I would say you’ve improved considerably. I take it you didn’t watch or read any of the coverage post qualifying?”

“No.”

“Well, the pundits were all amazed by your performance.”

“Why would they be? I didn’t come first.”

“There's more then just first place, Dust.” Spanner felt like pointing out.

“I'm here to win, I don't care about los-” She continued before Spanner cut in.

“There’s no pony who can walk into any race anywhere with no experience and win on the first attempt. It takes patience, hard work and a good observation. One of those seems to be your main weaknesses.”

“Do tell.” Dust growled, not amused.

“You went for thirty laps at full qualifying speed and tired yourself out. You need to hold something in reserve for overtaking and defending which you did eventually do.”

“And you didn’t notice Typhoon.” Fleet added.

“That was a racing accident.” Spanner answered back. “Perhaps I could have warned of a potential move but I don’t think it would have made much difference as no one saw that coming.”

“Speaking of which, I’d rather you didn’t keep distracted me when I’m racing.” Dust continued. “And I have been watching what they’re doing as well.”

“To the point of where you barely get any sleep, I can’t help but notice.”

“It’s called dedication.”

“Everyone on this grid is dedicated, but you can’t summon up energy from nowhere.”

“Shut up, the pair of you.” Fleet cut in, banging the table to make sure she got their attention. “I was going to say that I’m impressed with how you’ve improved your speed potential as, as I said, you only narrowly qualified at Cloudsdale. However, Spanner is right; your complete lack of patience is your weakness.

“Trying to get back on topic for a moment; your practice was fine and you improved quite a bit, though it was your qualifying lap that was really impressive. You’ve obviously learnt as you could then repeat it several times in the race but that would have been better saved for either a late race charge or for overtaking.

“Now, it’s easy for us to sit and criticise from our comfortable chairs while you race, but Spanner is doing his best to get the right information to you as he can see more of what’s going on around you then you can. I think we need to work on how you operate during a race because you need to not only maintain your energy levels while at speed, but also absorb more information as you go.

“Another thing I want you to do is tone down on your 'additional training'. We keep finding you passed out after long nights weight lifting or whatever you do and you’ll never improve if you don’t allow your body some time to recover. So I’m going to impose a nine pm curfew on you and your nose is bleeding, by the way.”

Dust was confused for a moment, the argument she was about to start vanishing as she felt the familiar trickle of something warm slowly making its way down her face. She carefully wiped it away and found it at least wasn’t much.

“Go and get yourself cleaned up and send Concorde in.” Fleet added.

***

The Cloudsdale Airship Port had been jammed packed after the first race with racers, their teams and fans. Baltimare’s train station in comparison was relatively empty, or at least of racers and teams.

Quite a few had accepted Riggwelter’s invitations to his brewery to celebrate its one hundredth anniversary, but Lightning Dust had declined.

To her, it was an opportunity to get the drop on everyone else; a full day of training and learning about the high speed Vanhoover Challenge, which featured one of the longest non-loop corners of the season and was renounced for stressing wings out if it wasn’t respected. There was also two extremely long straights, separated by a forty degree corner that could be taken at full speed and allow the racers to hit super sonic speeds, while the rest of the track was a collection of fairly quick, winding corners that went up and over small hills.

Once all her stuff was on the train, Dust started searching through all the books she could find for anything on Vanhoover, leaving Spanner to load the rest of the suit cases on his own.

Rarity and Coco, who were going back to Ponyville to start working in earnest on the dresses and suits for the Maneaco Fashion Show. They sat at the table, looking upon the damage done to Dust’s racing suit in her accident with Typhoon and the former looking as if she might burst into tears at the sight of her destroyed creation. The material had held up and even remained aerodynamic despite the considerable scrapes from sliding along tarmac, but all the colour had been taken away to reveal the beige like colour underneath.

“I’m not very familiar with racing rules, but can Lightning Dust still use this?” Coco asked Spanner as he re-entered with the last two suitcases.

“It can’t be re-used.” He confirmed as he put the suitcases in the luggage rack.

“She needs a whole new suit?” Rarity exclaimed. “Do you know how long it took me to make this?”

“I know full well how long it takes to make them; it’s your own fault you wanted to do a complicated design with jewel encrusted numbers.”

“I want them to look good on track.”

“And you did, but you may want to consider something simpler and easier to replicate. It's the same deal with the helmet; if it's involved in a crash it can't be used again.”

Rarity folded her forelegs and glared at the suit, not really wanting to leave the argument there but also unsure how to progress it.

“I can start making a new race suit if you want to focus on your Maneaco show designs, Rarity?” Coco offered.

“Okay.” Rarity sighed in response. As Coco took the suit over to another table, Rarity magically brought her bag down, pulled out a sheet of paper, a pencil and her glasses and immediately started scribbling down notes and ideas.

Meanwhile, Dust had pulled a pair of dumbbells out of her bag and started working, Concorde’s signed season annual propped open on the page about the previous year's race in Vanhoover.

“Dust, you’ve just come off a race track.” Spanner said. “You need to rest a bit before you do that.”

“Fleet said I can do all the training I want until nine pm and it’s only five.” Dust countered.

“Oh fine.” Spanner sighed in frustration as he poured some water from a bottle into a glass. “You may as well have a drink first.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a potion I got from the zebra in Ponyville. She said it helps recuperation after exercise.”

Dust considered that for a moment, looking at the offered glass that looked like it simply contained water. Can’t hurt, she thought, so she took the glass and emptied it in one go, instantly falling over backwards, fast asleep.

“Right,” Spanner mused, smirking as he removed the glass, book and dumbbells and rearranged Dust so she was on her side. “Either I’m a more convincing liar then ponies say I am or she’s just very gullible.”

“The latter.” Rarity commented before going back to her designs as the train started to move.

Late Night Research

There couldn’t be a more perfect day for an aerial display. There was barely a cloud in the sky as the crowd cheered, the sheer number of them making an almost biblical noise. So vast was the crowd, the one they’d come to see couldn’t see the ground they were standing on.

They had only come to see one, the greatest Wonderbolt of them all; Lightning Dust herself. She wore the uniform she had always been destined to wear; the blue and yellow of the Wonderbolts, slivers of yellow gems outlining the lightning bolt that ran down her sides. It felt so natural, almost like her own skin let alone a second one.

The crowd roared as she dived, looped and rolled at speeds no other Pegasus could. Everyone was left in awe as she moved perfectly through the sky, as if it was obeying her every whim. Everything was perfect for her and what better way to end a display then blowing the audience away with her signature move, a move she’d practiced for years and blew away everything from the Sonic Syncro-Pair to the Sonic Rainboom; The Lightning Corkscrew.

Dust accelerated as fast as she could, soon approaching the speed of sound where she threw herself into a high speed roll as she broke the sound barrier. Her lightning trail spun away from her as she rolled across the sky to the delight of the crowd below, but they were still begging for more.

As a few ideas zipped through her mind, she noticed a cloud ahead that would be suitable for a few manoeuvres and headed towards it. As she flew under the cloud and turned to climb rapidly, initially thinking of doing a high speed loop around the cloud, she noticed something.

More clouds had appeared, as if from nowhere, but it was their shape that was the most peculiar thing of all. Dust focused as she continued to climb, trying to make out exactly what the shape was and, as she got closer, she realized it was a pony’s head and face and it was looking at her.

It was her grandfather. Lightning Charger, former captain of the Wonderbolts, her idol and confidant. A tear crept out of her eyes as she hurried towards the face, memories of the last time she saw him alive when he looked so healthy and full of life before he suffered a heart attack and died, not ten minutes after they last saw each other.

Dust picked up speed as she headed towards it, the head shaped clouds seemingly turning to look at her. It seemed like it was smiling as she approached, which made her well up with emotion, but as the cloud turn to look past her, it’s form fell apart.

The clouds started to part rapidly as she got closer, revealing the searing light of the sun behind. The heat was sudden and intense, Dust having to cover her face as the sensation of burning became apparent to her. She looked over to see her wings in flames, falling apart as her momentum ebbed and she started to fall.

She did everything she could. She tried to pat and flap her wings and even rolled but instead started to tumble through the air in her desperate bid to put the flames out, but they only got worse as her velocity increased. The ground was coming fast, as if gleefully wanting to meet her. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t as her ears registered one thing: the crowd was still cheering.

***

Dust sat bolt upright, gasping in most of the air in her vicinity. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she breathed heavily as the environment registered in her mind.

She was in her bedroom in the Wonderhawks’ house in Ponyville. The room was pitch black, suggesting it was late at night, but she didn’t remember ever going to bed. It felt so long ago, almost forgotten behind the nightmare she’d just awoken from.

She turned and sat on the edge of her bed, knocking the bed sheets on the floor without a care for them. She was vaguely aware of the tear making it’s way down her face at the thought of her grandfather, who’d raised her along with her grandmother. It didn’t feel like it had happened long ago when the news of their deaths reached her, but it still hurt to remember the moments when her happiness was suddenly destroyed by such devastating news.

She wiped the tear from her eye and spread her wings to reassure herself they were defiantly in tack. A thought arose though, how did she end up in her bed in Ponyville so quickly, considering they’d only just left Baltimare? She had gotten onto the train and started trying to get in as much weight training as she could before Fleetfoot’s ridiculous curfew, but her mind blanked out after that.

She thought harder, vaguely remembering an exchange between the two dress mares and her annoying spotter. It was then the realisation of the culprit hit her.

Spanner.

He tricked her. The potion he’d given her was just a sleeping potion and he’d lied to her in order to get her to drink it. She was angry as she jumped off the bed and headed for the door, throwing it open before walking down the corridor to Spanner’s room.

The corridor was dark as well, save for a light glowing from down stairs. There were voices as well, seemingly from the TV as the volume was set down.

“Rossi’s not going to find room through there- Ok, just ignore me.” Dust could make out.

She knocked on Spanner’s door, noticing the sound of the TV being rewound.

“Rossi’s not going to find room through there- Ok, just ignore me.” Dust heard again, catching her interest. She headed for the stairs and peered through the banister to see who there.

Concorde was sat in one of the beanbags that dotted the living room, surrounded by note pads as he rewound the footage he was watching again. It showed what looked like turn nine from Baltimare, with one flyer somehow managing to sneak through a tiny gap between the outside wall and the racer he was passing.

“That was incredible.” The commentator said as Concorde made a note. “Overtaking around the outside is never easy but doing so against somepony like Mercedes, as well as through a gap that small, is almost unheard of.”

“She’ll be regretting saying no one overtakes her around the outside now.”

Concorde paused the footage before rolling out of the beanbag and heading for the kitchen, grabbing his oversized mug as he went. After a couple steps, he paused and looked at Dust.

“Ah, Dust, welcome back to the land of the living.” He smiled before heading out of view.

Dust walked down the stairs and into the living room and had a closer look at the TV. It appeared to be the EBC’s live coverage of the race, with a list of the flyer’s abbreviated names down the left side of the screen, while the names and teams of Rossi and Mercedes were shown at the bottom to let the viewer know who they were focusing on. The lap counter at the top of the screen stated it was lap fifty four of eighty.

“What time is it?” Dust felt like asking as she’d just realized she didn’t know.

“Eleven thirty.” Concorde informed her as he made himself a cup of tea. “Want a cuppa?”

“No. What are you doing down here?”

“Just re-watching the race, see what I can learn and what else happened.”

“What could you learn from re-watching it?”

“All sorts, lass. How the others take corners, who looks distracted, where they're looking and stuff like that. Might help in the next race.”

Dust looked over at the paused image on the TV. She’d been watching some of the fastest pony’s on-board footage, so it probably was possible to learn something from watching at TV angles, even if she couldn’t control who they were watching.

“You missed out on the party, you know.” Concorde added.

“I doubt it.” Dust replied.

“Oh you did. Typhoon’s not happy with you but he’s willing to forgive and forget. Dash challenged Skyline to a drinking competition when Riggwelter was handing out drinks.

“You should have seen the state of her when we got her back this afternoon. We had to put her in the luggage cart across town and carry her into her own house.” He laughed, though Dust just thought the pair of them were probably lightweights.

Dust sat down in one of the beanbags as Concorde resumed the recorded race. It was odd watching a race she’d been in, even if the focus was further up the order with the leaders.

Spanner certainly didn’t tell her much about what was going on further ahead, but by the looks of things it wasn’t much. Wolke, Rossi and Mercedes were flying pretty much in convoy, one of the latter two occasionally ducking out of line to have a look at overtaking, with the one they were attacking occasionally moving over to defend.

After a lap, the camera started to watch Concorde fending off Quicksilver. Going into turn one, Concorde bobbled slightly and missed the apex, giving Quicksilver enough room to squeeze through.

“Overcooked that slightly. Wind must have caught me as well” Concorde commented, mostly to himself as he made a note.

Dust ignored him and looked at the lap count, which suddenly made her nervous. Her nerves grew until the camera suddenly changed from watching Quicksilver and Concorde, who seemed to be content in following, to watching her sliding down the track.

“That’s Lightning Dust!” DC exclaimed as the camera struggled to follow her down the road, the scots pony having been in the middle of a sentence regarding Quicksilver’s line of thought on defending.

“Somepony else has just hit the air fence as well.” Edwards injected as the camera focused on the air barrier, which was forced up and now held up by Typhoon, having slide under it.

“They’ve gone right underneath, that’ll be a heck of a job to get them out as the barrier’s going to be pinning them to the track.” DC said, Dust noticing the ‘TYH’ that indicated Typhoon’s position falling down the list on the left of the screen.

“There’s Lightning Dust returning to the track through the escape road.” Edwards said as the camera showed exactly that, Dust on the TV shaking her head before re-joining the track.

“I think it’s Typhoon under the air fence, he’s name’s tumbling down the order and he couldn’t have had worse luck.”

“I doubt Lightning Dust could of had worse luck either, it even looks like she’s broken her nose as the Safety Kart is deployed as they'll have to detach the air barrier from the barrier behind it to extract Typhoon.”

“Here’s a replay. It looks like Lightning Dust is in Auroras Encore’s slipstream, Typhoon goes to have a look on Lightning Dust and there, Lightning Dust goes to overtake Aurora and collides with Typhoon, seemingly unaware he was there.”

Both Dust and Concorde winced as the replay showed the pair hit the wall and then tumble down the track. Dust didn’t remember tumbling, but it didn’t take long for her to land on and spin on her belly as she narrowly missed the barrier Typhoon got stuck under.

“I don’t envy you there.” Concorde remarked as the commentators discussed why the Safety Kart was necessary.

“Why would you? Didn’t Maffett say you hit a grandstand?” Dust asked, subconsciously checking her nose which now seemed to be fine.

“Yeah, but I was knocked out in impact there.” He smiled before they looked back at the TV.

She watched with slightly morbid curiosity as the when the cameras followed her into the pits for her forced stop to see the medic. She even felt a bit sick when she saw her nose had been pointing slightly to the left before it was healed, revulsion shared by the commentator when Dust spat blood into the nearby drain.

The race soon restarted, with Zip Line pulling away as Rossi dived past Wolke for second. The camera lingered looking back down the track from above turn one, spotting Concorde look to the inside of Quicksilver before the latter covered the line.

Through turn three, Aperto knocking Power Drive out of the race as Maverick held up the following pack when he came to a stop to avoid the accident.

As the rest of the race played out, Dust spent more time watching the list of abbreviated names on the left, waiting for ‘LTD’ to move up ahead of ‘ARE’ as she remembered her laps behind Aurora, but the camera remained focused on Zip Line and Rossi at the front.

Concorde started scribbling more notes as the race ended, the coverage continuing with a cool down lap and podium presentation before focusing on the EBC’s three presenters.

Concorde started cleaning up the mass of note pads he had dotted around his beanbag as the presenters discussed what happened in the race, with a few replays thrown in to illustrate points. Before long, however, they started discussing the rookies of the field.

“I think we’ve been blessed with some fabulous new talent this year.” The griffin EJ said. “Lotus Stream hasn’t done badly, Auroras Encore and Rainbow Dash have been solid so far, but the standouts so far would be Maverick, even in the single race he’s had today, Lightning Dust with her qualifying performance yesterday and Concorde, who’s scored in both races.

“However, they’re young and have a lot to learn. Lightning Dust is far too aggressive and she exhausted herself before the half way point of the race. Concorde, in stark contrast, is too conservative and I think he could do a lot more if he took more opportunities.”

“Conservative?” Concorde exclaimed in disbelief. “I’m not conservative, I spent half the race trying to find my way past ponies.”

“Looked more like you were happy to follow them.” Dust commented.

“I don’t need to duck and dive around, it’s pointless unless you’re actually doing something. I mean, I’ve watched your footage, you rarely follow the same line twice and waste quite a lot of speed.” Concorde continued, confusing her.

“I’m flying as fast as I can. That’s the whole point of racing, surely.”

“The point is finishing in as fast a time as possible, but that doesn’t mean flying at a hundred present maximum at all times. You lost somewhere in the realm of forty seconds and four places by exhausting yourself.”

“And how much did you lose sitting pretty?”

“Look, Dust, we’re a team and we should be trying to get the best out of each other, but you don’t help yourself.”

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.” Dust opted to said, ending a pointless argument with someone who wouldn’t understand her point.

“Fair enough. ‘night.” Concorde called after her as she went up the stairs.

Once she was gone, he just shrugged and sighed. She was quick for sure, but it’d been a long time since he’d encountered someone so clueless, but at least it meant he wasn’t likely to have to worry about her when he was racing.

A Morning Interval

Even after living in the town for a few months, mornings in Ponyville felt alien to Concorde. The gentle bird song and rustle of trees was certainly a pleasant thing to wake up to, but he missed the sea air, the hustle and bustle of ships coming in with the dawn and the occasional bang or explosion from his father’s workshop.

Concorde rolled out of bed after silencing his alarm clock, casting his sheets back onto the bed for the rest of the day as headed over to the window. He opened the curtains, followed by the window before leaning on the ledge.

He didn’t have the same commanding view of the town he enjoyed in Whitbay, but it was still a picturesque view of one of Ponyville’s out lining streets as ponies started their day gardening, making deliveries and heading off to work.

There wasn’t a cloud in sight either, which was similarly odd to him. It had taken him a while to get used to there being very little wind, what with his own town’s weather being intentionally windy, but he had to admit it was quite pleasant now he was used to it.

After a quick reminisce, he headed over to his desk, which was almost exactly like the desk he had in his old room in Whitbay. It was messy with note books, scraps of paper and binders covering the entire thing, along with his pure white practice race suit laid across the chair, while his helmet and goggles were sat on the floor.

He pulled out his track guide book from under the mess and flicked to the appropriate page, showing the full layout of the Vanhoover Challenge circuit. There were a lot of fast and flowing corners leading into each other and allowing slightly more speed as the natural line would feed straight into the next corner, starting with a ninety degree left corner at the bottom of a small drop from the front of the grid. Turn two was long and sweeping to the right, allowing more speed through turn one.

Turns three, four, five and six came one after the other in quick succession, the relatively easy left turn three effectively being a slowing zone for the tight right of turn four. Five and six, both left hoofers, were close enough together to be run as a single corner that led onto a short straight into the tight right hoof of turn seven.

Turn eight was the corner that stood out the most. It was fast and seemingly went on forever with four separate apexes and, if taken wrong, could wear out a racer in seconds.

This long corner led onto a straight and into a ninety degree corner and was followed by an extremely long, supersonic speed pair of straights separated by kinks.

It was no secret Concorde wasn’t the fastest in terms of raw top speed, but the straights were long enough to eliminate any advantage he’d gain through the corners in the first two thirds of the lap. The three slow speed corners at the end of the supersonic straights, a tight left followed by a ninety degree right and then left onto the start straight, could help him draw back up, but not by much.

He looked over the map, visualizing the corners, undulations and slowing points. Being such a hilly track, it would feature several cloud arches to show the height you should stay below. Even though the race was over a week away, getting himself in the right mind set was always a good idea, but he also needed a shower so he threw the book shut and headed off to the bath room.

***

Once showered and dry, he headed downstairs to get some breakfast. Fleetfoot and Spanner were already in the kitchen, the latter mopping up a large mess on the floor.

“Morning Concorde, hope you didn’t stay up all night watching that recording.” Fleet smiled, though Concorde was immediately drawn to have a look at what Spanner was mopping up. He looked like something wet had been thrown over him.

“What happened here?” Concorde asked, seeing it was milk and cereal being mopped up.

“Did we tell you Spanner tricked Dust into drinking a sleep potion when they left Baltimare?”

“Aye.”

“Well, as you’d imagine, Dust wasn’t best pleased, as you can tell by the fact she threw her breakfast in his face.”

“I’ll have to re-groom my moustache.” Spanner groaned, squeezing out the mop before continuing to clean.

“Come on, Corde, you’re blocking the stairs.” Maffett said as she stood behind him.

Concorde looked over his shoulder at her, looking slightly smug at his lifelong friend who still had curlers in her hair, before sitting down on the step. She just sighed before clambering over him.

“Come on, you scarlet step, we’ve got a fair bit of practice to do today.” She said as she hopped down the remaining stairs.

“Oh joy.” He replied sarcastically, rubbing where she’d just stood on him.

“We’re just waiting for Ratchett to wake Dash up.” Fleet added, putting her own plate in the sink.

“So we got plenty of time for breakfast, then?”

***

Concorde, Fleet, Maffett, Spanner and a still annoyed Dust went out into the back yard once they’d finished their breakfast. Concorde finished off his third cup of tea while Fleet scolded Dust, though he doubted a single word was getting through to her.

Eventually, Ratchett came around the side of the house with a sleepy Rainbow Dash in tow, who was then followed by the three fillies who would frequently watch them practising.

“Ah, good morning Rainbow Dash.” Fleet called over.

“Morning.” Dash yawned, the fillies dancing around before arguing over who actually woke Dash up. “What’s the plan?”

“Oh, I’ve got quite the plan.” Fleet smiled, peeking a mixture of interest and concern from her team. “For now, kiddilwinks, time to warm up!”

“What did you just call us?” Dash asked, as genuinely confused as her team mates, but Fleet didn't answer.

“Just do some wing presses," She said instead. "I need to find Cloudchaser and Flitter to help me modify the track.”

“Should we expect explosives, bananas and turtles or maybe even random catapults?” Concorde asked.

“Not this time, but Vanhoover has the longest non-loop corners on the calendar so we’re going to recreate something similar. For now, get down and give me as many as you can do.”

The three of them lay down on their front as ordered, planting the tips of their wings on the ground and pushing up.

“Hold there a moment.” Fleet added, but before they could look over to see what she was doing, Dust yelp as something was put on her back and she fell to the floor.

“What the hay?!” She exclaimed, looking over her shoulder.

“Howdy.” Applebloom smiled, who was now sat on Dust’s back.

“Just giving you guys a bit of a challenge.” Fleet smiled before putting Sweetie belle on Concorde’s back.

“Oh, cheers.” Concorde said sarcastically. She just smile sweetly when he looked at her.

Before Fleet could get to her, Scootaloo jumped on Dash’s back.

“Why do I get the Earth Pony?” Dust complained.

“Shouting’s going to make it harder to do press ups.” Fleet replied without answering the question. “Come on now, Maffett and the colts will be counting how many you do and I want to see at least two hundred.”

With that, Fleet headed off into town.

“Well, come on then.” Maffett encouraged. The racers just exchanged looks before getting to work.

Concorde didn’t mind wing press ups, not that he did them very often, but with the added weight of a filly on his back it made it much more difficult. Dust would have more difficulty as, even though she did so much of her own exercise, Earth ponies were naturally heavier then Unicorns and Pegasus.

The three fought hard to keep the extra exertion from their faces, not wanting to show weakness before they found a good rhythm. It didn’t take quite as long as they expected to reach one hundred push ups, either.

“Come on, Rainbow Dash! You can beat both of them in your sleep!” Scootaloo shouted in encouragement.

“Haven’t you been watching Mr Concorde do really well?” Sweetie shot back, which surprised her friends.

“Do you even know where he’s finished in the last race?”

“Erm, did he win?”

“I wish.” Concorde chuckled.

“See.” Scootaloo said, as if that settled her point.

“But he can win and he will!” Sweetie shot back with surprising conviction as she jumped up and down.

She landed slightly off Concorde’s centre, right on his shoulder, throwing his balance and causing him to yelp in surprise as he fell over. As he fell, Sweetie went flying into Dust, knocking her over as Applebloom attempted to jump out of the way and instead landed on Dash, causing her to fall over as Scootaloo attempted to jump up and hover, but instead fell on top of the pair of them.

Naturally enough, Maffett, Ratchett and Spanner fell about laughing as the racers and fillies untangled themselves.

***

Fleetfoot eventually came back and led her team to the practice track, once they’d gathered their practice race suits and helmets. She stood with Cloudchaser and Flitter as the racers and spotters looked upon their latest creation.

It almost looked like all they’d done was taken their old oval track and blown up one end of it, making one corner extremely long while the other was an ultra-tight hairpin with reasonable length straights, looking almost like the outline of a slice of pie.

From what he could see from below, it would appear to Concorde that they’d simple have to hug the inside edge of the long corner, not quite like Vanhoover’s four apex epic of a turn eight, but it would strain the wings in a similar fashion, even if it likely would require more patience.

But in being a perfect curve, it missed something essential that made Vanhoover’s turn eight what it was; the fact the line had to be perfect. Miss any one of turn eight’s four apexes and you’d lose shed loads of time as you drifted wide.

The thought crossed his mind as he remembered his first meeting with Spitfire, after Hurricane had told him about her suggestion of the Wonderbolts and Red Hawks collaborating on a racing team for reasons he’d yet to fully figure out. Spitfire had immediately put the names Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust on the desk and asked him if he could teach them a few things.

Concorde still wasn’t sure what he could teach them, but they both seemed willing to adapt to the very different approach needed for racing. Truthfully, the chance to race in the ECRL was all he really cared about and when the offer was put in front of him, he leapt at it.

Theoretically with the track above, there were three different lines he could take through the long corner; starting wide and cutting in later, cutting in early and drifting out a bit on exit or just hugging the inside the whole way through.

For pure speed, the first option was by far best as he could take slightly more speed into the corner. The other two solutions were more ideal for defending by impeding the pursuer’s line through the corner.

“Corde, what do you think?” Fleet asked, poking him in the nose to get his attention as he hadn’t realized she was stood in front of him.

“Oh, well,” Concorde started after the moment of surprise passed, trying to form the sentence now he was on the spot, eventually offering: “It’s alright. Very pie shaped.”

“I was thinking of Soarin’ at the time.” She smirked. “Only alright?”

“Well, aye. If you wanted to emulate Vanhoover’s turn eight, it’s not very good, mind.”

“I wasn’t trying to, that would take ages and seeing as we went to that party we have less time to practice.”

“Well, you were enjoying yourself so I thought I’d let you.” Concorde smiled.

“While you and Maffett were little wall flowers in the corner.”

“As I said, I’m not one for big parties, though that was much more fun than the flashy dos I’d been dragged to as a foal.”

“Are you two going to talk about that stupid party all day?” Dust cut in, sounding impatient.

“We just want to torment you for chickening out, especially when the pictures arrive.” Concorde almost automatically replied. “But aye, we may as well get cracking.”

Author's Note

The described track is an exact replica of Istanbul Park, Turkey, one of my favourites (curse FOM for removing it from the F1 calender in favor of boring venues like the Buddh International Circuit, India, and the Korean International Circuit in, literally, the middle of no where). I know there was a street track used by the CART series in Vancouver, but didn't want two street races so close together.

On the Rails 3: Rail Harder

The night before heading to an event was usually pretty hectic. After seven days straight training, packing to leave never seemed like much of a priority as they thundered around their practice track and reviewed footage of previous races at the Vanhoover Challenge track.

With the bags packed and piled in the corner of the living room, the team relaxed as Concorde reviewed the instructions in the book for Cauliflower and Potato Curry, making sure he was about to add the right ingredient. He’d taken over most cooking duties after Fleetfoot, Ratchett and Spanner’s last disaster that required them to buy a new cooker and found the process to be quite relaxing after a long day of physical exertion, even if the rest of the team were getting slightly bored of curries.

“Tomatoes and sugar, please.” Concorde prompted as he roughly chopped the cauliflower, potatoes and chillies.

Pinkie Pie, who was coming with them to Vanhoover to support them, dropped the ingredients into the pan from where she hung by her tail from one of the rafters for whatever reason. She’d joined them for dinner along with Rainbow Dash, who was currently watching Maffett and Fleetfoot playing a fighting game along with Ratchett and Spanner while Dust was in her room as usual.

It wasn’t that often they’d hang out together, with Dash going off to do her own thing while Dust went to her room and continued training, despite them pointing out how pointless it was. He didn’t mind hanging around with his team, but hadn’t felt an overwhelming urge to go anywhere with them beyond races, something he usually only did with Maffett.

“Having fun there?” Concorde asked the upside down Pinkie as she stirred the contents of the pan.

“Yeah!” She smiled. “This stuff smells really good.”

“It’s a recipe my mum put together specifically for me.” Concorde replied as he dumped the vegetables he’d just chopped into the pan. “Straight forwards to put together for idiots like me, but too complicated for that lot.” He added, indicating to the crowd around the TV.

“Oh, come on!” Fleetfoot shouted furiously at the TV as Maffett, once again, beat her trench coat wearing wolf character Blaidd. Dash, Ratchett and Spanner just laughed at her outburst. “I was blocking!”

“I think you were blocking low.” Maffett pointed out as her bo staff wielding cat character, Kung Fu Cat, did her victory pose.

“What difference does that make?!”

“You can attack high and low, so if you’re blocking low I can still hit you with ‘high’ attacks.”

“That’s b******t.”

“Well, where’s the fun in just holding down block while I whale on you?”

“You’ve won three in a row, Maff. Time to swap.” Concorde said as he put the lid on the pan before heading over. They were playing winner stays on with a tweak, where if someone won three in a row then they let someone else on, otherwise Maffett would be playing all night.

“So Fleet stays on?” Spanner asked.

“F*** that.” Fleet groaned as she got up to get a drink.

“I’ll play!” Pinkie cut in, almost instantly taking Fleetfoot’s place and joystick the moment she moved and leaving Ratchett and Spanner surprised by how quickly she moved. “What’re you playing?”

“Paragon Fighter," Concorde answered. "based on that super hero comic book that’s been doing the rounds.”

“Ok.”

Concorde took Maffett’s place and joystick and picked his usual character, the leather jacket and bandana wearing Bando. Pinkie moved the cursor around the roster for a while as she decided.

“I’ll play Twilight’s brother.” She smiled, choosing Shining Armour.

“Fair enough, good luck.” Concorde offered as the game loaded.

Pinkie started hammering buttons the moment the match started, Concorde dodging out of the way and delivered a few strikes that Pinkie, in her random movement of the joystick, managed to avoid.

As Concorde’s character hung for a moment at the end of his strike animation, several of Pinkie’s attacks connected, starting with some light hits that then rapidly turned into a combo of more powerful attacks as Pinkie continued to randomly hit buttons. Concorde desperately tried to either block or counter to get out of the onslaught, but he simply couldn’t get away and went down in a perfect defeat.

“Bloody Nora, that was brutal.” Maffett laughed along with everyone else. “What happened, Corde?”

Concorde just shrugged before the second round started and he quickly backed away as Pinkie started hammering buttons again, accidently hitting the pause button at one point and resuming the fight after a quick apology. Her constant flurry of moves was different to the mind game he and Maffett effectively played as they both knew the game fairly well and he was struggling to find an opening to attack as Pinkie’s Shining Armour had a longer range then his Bando.

After dodging and circling around his constantly attacking opponent, Concorde tried a jump attack to get over the standard blows, but at the peak of his jump, Pinkie managed to pull off a high reaching vertical attack and an almost action replay of the first fight played out as Concorde desperately tried to get out of the combo and failed as ‘Perfect’ was announced again at his defeat.

Concorde’s jaw just dropped as Pinkie whooped and everyone else laughed.

***

The train left Ponyville early the next morning to head North West to Vanhoover. He hadn’t said anything, but Concorde’s nerves had already started to creep up and he hadn’t slept much the night before. His eyes were heavy and desperately trying to draw themselves shut, but he wouldn’t let them as he read one of his favourite Tintin stories.

He always got nervous before ‘events’ of any kind, even just going to the movies with Maffett. He’d never been sure why he got so nervous, but he just went with it and tried to stay out of the way so his nerves didn’t show.

Being in a single train carriage with his entire team and whoever else came along, this time just Pinkie, it was slightly more difficult to stay out of the way. Fortunately, there was a comfy, padded bench in the corner which he had taken and with his focus entirely on the book, become somewhat oblivious to what the others were doing. So long as they didn’t bother him, he couldn’t care less what they were doing.

Concorde turned the page as Tintin and Haddock discovered the device of the story when he became aware of something as the bench he was laying on moved slightly. He looked up and got the fright of his life when all he could see was a pair of big, blue eyes.

“What you reading?” Pinkie asked excitedly. She was stood over him with a big smile on her face that was slightly disconcerting.

“Erm, L'Affaire Tournesol.” He answered after a moment, showing her the book’s cover. “It’s one of my favourite Tahntahn stories.”

“Is that how you pronounce ‘Tintin’?”

“It’s the French pronunciation, aye.”

“Puis-je lire ainsi? [Can I read it with you?]” She asked in French, taking him completely by surprise.

“Erm, okay. Didn’t know you spoke French.” He smiled, slightly awkwardly in his surprise, which also prevented him from thinking of any way of declining.

“Je peux parler français, mais je ne sais pas ce que cela signifie. [I can speak it, but I don’t know what it means.]” She smiled sweetly before sitting next to him. Concorde pondered that nugget for a moment, having no idea how such a thing was possible. He’d met ponies who understood languages without speaking them, but never the other way around.

He just shrugged. Dash had told him a couple times that making sense of Pinkie was completely pointless so he just opened up the comic to the first page again.

“Seeing as you’re in the real world now, do you want a drink?” Maffett called over.

“Please.” He replied, now aware of what was going on around him.

Ratchett and Spanner were debating their notes as they usually did while Fleetfoot was making her way through a long letter from Spitfire that she wouldn’t let the others see. Maffett was busy making drinks for almost everyone as Dust did her usual weight training.

Dash was having one of her usual mid-morning naps, snoozing gently on one of the benches.

“I’ve got an idea.” Concorde announced. Lightening the atmosphere always seemed to help with his nerves.

“What sort of idea? You’re not going to prank Dashie, are you?”

“Partially yes.” He answered, laying down the comic and walking over to her. Carefully, he moved her closer to the edge of the bench to make it more likely she’d roll off onto the floor. Seeing as it was a wooden floor, he decided to put a pillow where it was most likely her face would land.

“Now we wait.” Concorde smiled, the others looking to see what he was doing. Almost as if the train was in on the joke, the whole carriage buffeted as it went over an awkward piece of track and caused almost everything to bounce into the air. With a thud and an ‘umph’, Dash fell off the bench and onto the floor.

There were a few awkward laughs before they realized why the carriage had bounced, but it seemed Dash had slept through the whole event and was still snoozing away, even with her face in a pillow on the floor. Concorde just knocked the other pillow off the bench onto her head and went back to Pinkie and his comic.

The somewhat more functional Towers

Vanhoover was one of Equestria’s great cities, even if most of the things it was known for were usually followed by ‘second only to such and such’.

Even then, it gave those ‘such and suchs’ a run for their money and boasted its own wonders. It wasn’t possible anywhere else in Equestria to go golfing and skiing in the same day while the city was second only to Los Pegasus in the number of films and TV shows filmed in the area.

That, however, was over thirty miles away. The Vanhoover Challenge Circuit itself was well outside the city in the great country side Vanhoover was nestled in. Being so outdoor friendly, there were a number of rural hotels dotted around, the biggest of which was practically overlooking the circuit.

Concorde looked around the homey looking lobby of the hotel, waiting with his team and their huge pile of bags while Fleetfoot checked them in. It’s white and varnished wood decoration and red carpet looked almost identical to the hotel they’d stayed at in Baltimare. He wouldn’t have been surprised at all if he closely inspected one of the sofas the buttock marks from ponies who had previously sat on it would be the same as well, if he was compelled to do so. What seemed stranger to him was the fact it wasn’t even a franchised hotel chain.

Still, at least they’d get a slightly more appealing view then the building opposite. Living in a city wasn’t for him and he felt much more comfortable away from the mass of tall concrete structures.

“That’s us booked in.” Fleet informed them as she walked over. “Who’s got the straws?”

“Can’t we just call dibs?” Dash asked.

“Dibs not with Maffett.” Concorde, Ratchett and Spanner quickly said, drawing an irked look from her.

“No, as I said, everyone gets to share a room with the snorer at least once.” Fleet grinned.

“I don’t snore!” Maffett protested. She did snore, almost loud enough to wake the dead, but she always denied the fact.

Fleet quickly arranged the near traditional coloured straws for her team to take and choose their room mates for the weekend. Ratchett and Spanner randomly drew a red and a green straw, Dust then got a blue one. Concorde took the closest straw, which was blue as well.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Dusty.” He remarked, though Dust didn’t react as she picked up her bags.

Dash drew next and got a green straw, putting her with Spanner. Pinkie and Maffett drew one after the other, both getting orange straws, leaving Fleet with the remaining red straw.

As the team gathered their bags after Fleetfoot gave out the room keys, Concorde thought it was a decent opportunity to try and get to know Dust better, hopefully minus a pointless argument. Being in the same room, she had nowhere to escape to if she wanted to continue training in her usual way. What exactly he could convince her to talk about evaded him, though he couldn’t help but notice Ratchett and Spanner swapping keys for some reason.

Their rooms were fairly spread out across the hotel, Concorde and Dust heading to the far end of the second floor before finding their room. Concorde opened the door to be greeted by the familiar layout and dull decorations of a twin bed hotel room.

He internally sighed as he walked over to the furthest bed and threw his bag on it before propping his guitar up in the corner. His thoughts of getting back out of the dull room were interrupted by loud clunks and clangs of Dust’s bag as it was dumped at the foot of her bed, causing Concorde to pause for a moment. He looked up from his bag to see Dust pulling a pair of fairly large dumb bells from the bag.

“Wait, how many flipping weights did you bring? That looks like an entire gym’s worth.”

“Enough.” Dust replied simply, not looking up as she lay down on the floor and started lifting them. Concorde watched her do a few reps before he found himself asking:

“Don’t you do anything to relax?”

Dust paused, leaning up to look at him. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“I mean, you always vanish into your room the moment we’re done training. Don’t you do anything other than train when we’re not practicing?”

Dust just scowled at him for a moment before lying back down and lifting the weights, doing quite a few reps fairly quickly.

“Come on, don’t you read any books or watch TV or ‘owt?” He tried as he unpacked his bag, placing his helmet on the desk and laying his suit over the chair, Dust not answering as she carried on.

“Listen to some music?” He offered again as he put a toiletries bag in the small en-suite shower room, again not getting an answer.

“I love my comedy.” Concorde started, to see if talking about a subject would get her to react. “Me and Maffett have seen loads of great comedians. Bill Hayley, Capall Ollmhór, Michael McIntrotter, Billy Clopperly, Jo Bridle, loads of them!”

Dust still didn’t answer. Concorde decided to lay across what he assumed would be her bed and looked down at her as she continued.

“Capall Ollmhór makes a habit of asking audiences odd questions. When he was in Whitbay on his last tour, he asked if anyone had saved a life and one of the answers was bloody brilliant. Someone shouted ‘I was walking along the beach when I found two pairs of hooves sticking out of the sand.’ It was the nonchalant way he said it, as if it was an everyday occurrence.”

Once again, Dust didn’t respond, seemingly focusing intently on a patch of ceiling directly above her.

“Come on Dust, surely you do something besides this? Do you listen to Music? Go walking or hiking? How about f***ing listening?” He tried, his patience wearing thin. Again, Dust ignored him and carried on.

Concorde got off the bed and stood directly in front of her, making sure she could see him as she carried on. Eventually, he sighed and headed for the door.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” He offered as he reached the door. When no answer came, he left the room.

“Sweet Celestia.” Concorde hissed to himself as he walked down the hall. He didn’t go out of his way to socialise, but he felt extremely aggravated having been fobbed off like that.

Looking to calm down a bit, he headed off down the corridor towards the stairs to find Maffett and Pinkie’s room. He bounded down the stairs to their floor out of habit and pushed the door into the corridor open with somewhat more force than he intended.

“Vorsichtig!” Someone behind the door exclaimed in German before suddenly stopping it. Concorde paused in surprise and embarrassment for a moment before slowly peering around to see who he’d nearly hit in the face.

His old sandy coloured rival Wolke looked back at him, slightly rattled by a door being flung open in his face.

“Sorry, Wolke.” Concorde offered, trying not to look quite so embarrassed as he stepped into the corridor and Wolke let the door close itself. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, doorways aren’t my natural habitat so it’s understandable.”

“Well, that and I would have thought you’d be in a hotel in Vanhoover.” Concorde shrugged as he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Not this time. I convinced Fancypants that a hotel closer to the track was a better idea, even though Aperto didn’t agree.”

“This must be a step down for you guys.” Concorde remarked, Wolke not looking overly fussed.

“There is less choice on room service, so I suppose. Fancypants always pays for the best available accommodation, which is why he’s in Vanhoover while myself and Aperto are here with our teams. I would much rather be closer to the circuit. Were you in a rush somewhere?”

“Not really,” Concorde answered, not really sure what to do. “just meandering, not sure if I should go to the bar or not.”

“I was actually headed there myself for a break from my strategist. Would you like to come with me?”

“Erm, sure.” Concorde answered automatically, slightly surprised. It felt bizarre to him as he’d known Wolke for several years, but they’d rarely spoken to each other besides announcing their grievances regarding something the other had done on track. And now it seemed they were off for a friendly drink as they walked down the corridor. It was remarkable what accidently throwing a door open in someone’s face could do.

As the pair entered the simple, unspectacular bar with white and varnished wood decoration walls, red carpet and wood panelled bar that matched the rest of the hotel, Concorde felt he may as well ask a question.

“So what’s it like in Fancypants Racing?” He asked. Wolke looked a bit uncertain if he should answer the question, knowing Concorde had been in the running for the very position he was in.

“It’s interesting to say the least.” Wolke answered with a shrug as he looked around the tables, most of which were full of either teams or journalists.

“Being in the best funded team must be good though, surely?”

“Not as good as you may think.” Wolke answered, looking a bit weary. “Fancypants has myself and Aperto accompany him to a lot of events and they’re not much fun, to tell the truth.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever been to a function where a lot of wealthy ponies simply stand around talking about the most boring things possible?”

“Unfortunately yes. My mum tried to set me up with almost all of their daughters.”

“Any cute ones?”

“Aye, some of them were pretty good looking, but I’d be on the verge of braining myself to death on the nearest solid object within moments of them opening their mouths. They were the most insufferable ponies I’ve ever met. I feel for you if you’re getting dragged into those sorts of parties because I tried talking to one of the adults and I think I died for a few minutes.”

“If that is the case, perhaps I should be planning my funerals before each party.” Wolke replied dryly, before pointing towards an underpopulated table. “Is that Lotus Stream sat on her own?”

“Aye, it is.”

“I think we should go and say hello. Rookies should stick together, after all.” He added with a wink.

“Oh, you’re giving me the rook treatment now, boyo.” Concorde laughed.

“Yah. Little rookies need looking after.” Wolke mocked as the pair made their way through the tables.

The green and yellow Lotus Stream was indeed sat alone, seemingly intently looking at a cup of coffee. She looked every bit as nervous as Concorde felt with the race looming, so perhaps she could use some company.

“You’re looking a bit lonely there, lass.” Concorde said, making her jump. “Sorry.” He quickly added with a chuckle.

“Mr Schwade, Mr Cayley, what are you doing here?” She asked nervously.

“Seemingly doing what you are also doing; relaxing.” Wolke answered. “Do you mind if we join you?”

“Erm, no, but I don’t know why you’d want to.” She added, almost with a squeak as if she didn’t intend to ask.

“Well, we don’t know ‘owt about you.” Concorde said as the pair sat down. “Come on, where you from?”

“Well, erm.” Lotus thought, her eyes darting around. “I come from Richmane, where my dad builds motor karts for haulage.”

“Sounds like my old stal with his gliders, if slightly more practically minded.”

“Hardly.” She said with a small smile. “He’s been trying to build racing karts for years, but most of them fall apart after a lap or two.”

“He does sound like my dad, could even be a long lost brother. Please tell me he’s an earth pony.”

“No, he’s a Pegasus.”

“Ah well. Mind you, sounds like they’d probably get on like a house on fire and probably cause it as well.”

“I get the impression my foalhood was dull in comparison to you two.” Wolke injected.

“You’d be surprised how mind numbingly dull mine actually was half the time.”

“Well, I had a fairly simple upbringing in Oldenburg, a simple gothic market town. Judging from what you said of the events your mother took you to as a foal, it would almost seem like we have swapped places in a sense.”

“And I don’t envy you in the slightest there, mate.” Concorde chuckled. “Best thing to do is get a drink and find somewhere quiet.”

“You were drinking as a foal?” Lotus asked, looking surprised.

“I’m half French, I was actively encouraged.”

“Is this the hip, young, cool table, is it?” Someone asked behind Concorde and Lotus. They looked around to see Riggwelter and his blue Fluffy Pony wife Concorde couldn’t remember the name of, as well as Mercedes and a grey unicorn he recognised as a journalist.

“Oh most definitely.” Concorde smiled.

“Room for a few old codgers and McCantage?”

“Well, let’s see.” Wolke started, looking around at the empty seats. “I think we could squeeze you in somewhere.”

“How very generous of you.” Mercedes replied sarcastically.

“Have to love these young colts and their manners.” McCantage said in a middle Equestria accent, though Concorde couldn’t place it.

“By the way,” Mercedes injected “seeing as you three don’t know; this is McCantage. My fiancée.”

“Didn’t know you were engaged.” Concorde stated, surprised.

“Well now you do.” Mercedes smiled at his awkwardness. “I wanted to introduce him to ponies at Riggwelter’s party, but he was busy.”

“How was it?” Lotus asked.

“About as frustrating as you’d think when-”

“I meant the party.” Lotus quickly added as Mercedes seemingly had the wrong idea.

“It was messy and a heck of a lot of fun watching the others make fools of themselves.” Concorde chuckled. “Rainbow Dash challenged Skyline to a drinking contest and we ended up transporting her around in a cart, she was so bad the next morning and even the day after that.”

“Sounds like the typical Oktoberfest.” Wolke commented. “The day after is always entertaining in Oldenburg as ponies try to get back to work with big hang overs.”

“Considering Bavarian beer is much stronger than my stuff, you probably would have gotten a kick out of seeing us struggle after a few.” Rigg added.

“There’s nothing funnier than watching a light weight drink.” Wolke smiled.

“That sounds like a challenge, boyo.”

“It could be if you want.”

“I think we’re the only sensible ones here, Concorde.” Mercedes grinned to the young stallion, who just laughed.

“Shows you the level of madness we’re dealing with.”

ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Practice

Concorde made his way back to his room shortly before ten o’clock as the other racers he had spent the evening hanging out with headed off. With the first day of practice starting in the morning, they all needed to get a decent amount of sleep.

It still felt strange to him. He’d been sat at a table with his former rival Wolke, one of his idols Mercedes and all-round good bloke Riggwelter as well as fellow rookie Lotus Stream and enjoyed a good laugh with them. Such a simple thing had never really crossed his mind when he was younger, dreaming of racing in the ECRL.

In the past, he’d usually just consider his rivals as other things, not necessarily ponies to interact with off track. He spoke to them if they spoke to him, he wasn’t rude after all, but he never felt like going out of his way to say anything unless it was needed.

He brushed the aimless thought from his mind as he entered the room and for a moment thought Dust had gone out, before he heard the familiar commentary of the EBC race broadcast. As he walked further into the room after closing the door, he found Dust lying on her bed with a laptop, watching a replay of what sounded like the previous year’s race.

She didn’t acknowledge him as he sat on his bed, note pad thrown open on his lap and leaned over slightly so he could see the race footage as well. Rossi and Zip Line were jousting for the lead of the race through the chicanes at the end of the lap and first corner. He remembered this duel took place after a controversial incident between Nicki Hest and Ekstrom when the former rather dopily hit the latter towards the end of the back straight and, somehow, Ekstrom got the blame from his team.

It wasn’t long before the race settled down, with Rossi gaining a two second gap on Zip Line that he maintained to the end of the race, but there were still some duels further back down the order, with Blitzen trying to overtake Quicksilver into turn eight despite the fact it was next to impossible to overtake in that corner.

Dust shut the laptop once the race was over as Concorde went over his notes, making a few changes along the way. Without a word, Dust settled down and turned the light off, leaving Concorde to sort himself out in the dark. He wasn’t overly concerned as he dropped his note book to the floor next to the bed and got under the covers.

As he lay on his side, staring at the closed windows ahead, his mind raced. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t quieting down, but it seemed like every synapse in his brain wanted to fire at the same time. Even though his eyes were heavy and his body relaxed, his mind wanted to stay wide awake just in case. In case of what, he wasn’t sure but his mind was very much reluctant to allow him to sleep.

As he lay there, he became aware of the fact he needed the toilet and sighed. His nerves could be terrible at times, though playing on his guitar for a bit usually settled them. With everyone around him asleep, he really didn’t want to disturb them so he decided he may as well go and spend a penny and get what sleep he could.

***

“Did you sleep at all last night, Concorde?” Fleetfoot asked as the team walked through the paddock the following morning as they carried their stuff to their stable, or garage as they were called on what was mainly a kart track.

“On and off, aye.” He answered, stifling a yawn. He still felt oddly groggy with most of what happened since he got up that morning hiding in the depth of his memory.

“What time did you go to bed?” Ratchett asked.

“No idea. Think I left the bar around ten and was up a bit longer watching last year’s race with Dust.”

“Why were you in the bar?”

“Ran into Wolke, he invited me and just went with it.”

“You were hanging out with Wolke?” Maffett asked, surprised, before mockingly adding: “Aren’t I good enough for you anymore?”

“You never were in the first place.” Concorde grinned while Dash and Pinkie exchanged uncertain, yet amused looks. “But I’m just as stunned as you are.”

“Just go to bed earlier tonight, Corde.” Fleet said, ending the conversation as she opened the door at the back of their garage. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked as it usually was when they’d arrive in the morning.

“We’re sharing a stable?” Dash asked, looking at the sign next to the door that displayed their team logo along with the logo of one of the kart teams.

“Didn’t I mention that?”

“No.” The entire team answered in unison.

“You haven’t told us why Spitfire would want a racing team, either.” Maffett added.

“Oh, sorry. We’re sharing with the Bridleham kart team.” Fleet smiled as she opened the door.

Inside the large garage, three Earth Ponies were sat around a partially assembled kart, each working on different parts as they looked over to see who had just opened the door. Parts of the kart’s body work were leaned against the wall, which were blue with a gold stripe going up the centre.

“Morning.” One of them said in an Australian accent before going back to what he was working on.

“Good morning. You must be Jack Bridleham.” Fleet said.

“I am. You must be-”

“Echo Fleetfoot!” A young mechanic excitedly cut him off, which earned him a disapproving look.

“Where? I don’t see her.” Maffet grinned, the joke getting slightly lost as Concorde yawned loudly, hiding his mouth behind his hoof.

“Is he always like this is he doesn’t drink enough tea in the morning?” Ratchett asked.

“Aye.”

“First things first, I suppose, how much of this cave of a stable do you stals need?” Fleet asked as she dumped some of her stuff.

“We’ve got plenty of room here, love.” Jack Bridleham replied without looking as he attached something to the front of the engine.

“Perfect half and half split, then.”

“Yep.”

“Works for me.” Fleet smiled as Concorde hid another loud yawn behind his hoof.

“Stick the kettle on, you clod. You’ll probably wake up then.” Maffett remarked.

“We’ll have a cuppa as well!” One of the mechanics called from behind the kart.

“Milk and three sugars, mate!” Jack added with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Concorde said off-hoof, still not with it.

The Wonderhawks went about their preparations as Concorde made the tea. Fleetfoot was busy reading through her note book regarding the circuit with recent weather schedules before she noticed the young Bridleham mechanic was sheepishly approaching her.

“Erm, Ms Fleetfoot?” The young mechanic asked, Fleet giving him her attention. “Sorry to bother you when you’re starting your prep and everything, but could we get an autograph?”

The Wonderhawks looked at Fleet, who had a somewhat neutral expression on her face. After a moment, she smiled.

“You most certainly can, young stal.”

“Let’s get them a picture as well!” Rainbow Dash added as the mechanic offered Fleet a Wonderbolts poster to sign.

“Sit her in the kart and we’ll get a photo of the lot of you.” Maffett remarked as she grabbed her camera.

***

Concorde lined up at the end of the pit lane, once he had his full race suit and helmet on to await the start of practice. After two more huge cups of tea and some time to study the weather and track notes, he was wide awake.

Practice was the most exciting time of the weekend for him. There was no pressure on his shoulders and there was a new track laid before him that he’d always wanted to fly around and waiting for the green flag to let him out on track was nearly unbearable. He’d enjoyed this while he could as, once qualifying started to loom, he’d just start getting more and more nervous.

He’d only been stood in the short queue of flyers for around two minutes before the flag waved, but it felt more like twenty as he took to the air and glided out on track, down the surprisingly steep hill the first corner and pit exit went over.

The track itself was pretty wide, more than enough for three ponies to fly around it side by side and the racing line for the left turn one and long right turn two leant themselves to side by side racing as they flowed first down and then steadily back up. Turn three at the top of the next raise was a sharp left that immediately went down to a sharp right, followed by another left that quickly opened up to allow a flyer to accelerate quickly through it. The line was limited through those corners, but still giving enough room for a cheeky overtake.

A short straight led to turn seven, which again had a short raise up to it and then onto the infamous turn eight, the four apex monster itself. As Concorde flew through it, without paying much notice to Ekstrom ahead, he started to wonder if it would even end before it finally opened up.

From this point on, he knew he was weak. Another straight led to a ninety degree left that had a right immediately after it, allowing plenty of speed to be carried through. From there, it was a two long straights connected by a right hoof kink that could easily be taken at speed and with the width of the track, he’d find it next to impossible to defend against a faster flyer with his pokey top speed.

The straight ended with a left hoof hair pin, something he could make time up in along with the ninety degree right and left that immediately followed it and led onto the start/finish straight.

Two sections of high speed fun, followed by a section of pure pain for him. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be quite that bad and as Concorde started his first timed lap, he decided to compare his speed to Ekstrom ahead.

He followed the more experienced racer around the track, losing about half a second to him before they reached the back straight. He propelled himself down the back straight as fast as he could behind Ekstrom. The pair seemed about equal until after the small right hoof kink, where Ekstrom started pulling away with slightly more speed than the Yorkshire stallion could muster.

“What was the speed difference?” Concorde asked Maffett over his radio as he made his way through the last two corners.

“Well, he was ninth fastest and you were nineteenth fastest that time around.” She answered. “Your cornering seems to make up for it though as your first lap puts you tenth.”

“Righto. Let me know if anything important comes up.”

“Got it. I’ll stick to the board.” She finished. Concorde preferred radio silence unless it was important during practice so he could focus.

***

Concorde carried on lapping the track, putting in the eighth fastest time over twelve laps. Being practice, times meant very little as different ponies would be doing different things, such as race or qualifying preparations.

His main concern remained the final sector of the lap over the long straights. He’d occasionally ask Maffett for comparisons of his sector times and his first and second sectors were frequently among the fastest, with the third sector letting him down massively. He had to improve his exit through turn eight in order to gain as much advantage as he could, or he’d be a sitting duck come the race.

He propelled himself through turn eight on his latest lap, his eyes going from apex to apex as he approached each in turn before he shifted his view up the straight. He was nearly out of turn 8 when a sudden gust of wind hit his right wing and he went from turning left to flat spinning right.

He landed on his belly as he span, sliding across the run off for the karts and coming to a halt in the gravel trap.

“You ok, Corde?” Maffett asked.

“I’m fine.” Concorde replied, looking up at the nearest wind sock as he got back to his hooves. The wind had picked up a lot since he glanced at it three corners prior. “Wind picking up?”

“It’s pretty inconsistent at the moment with the occasional strong gust coming in from the west.”

“Let’s hope that’s gone by Sunday.” Concorde mused as he took to the air again, checking over his shoulder for other racers before re-joining the track.

Besides the low rolling hills the track was built on, there was very little protection for the elements. Whatever direction it came from, it would hit with full force and trying to fly into a head wind when he was already slow was going to make things even worse.

He approached turn nine at a glide, planning on going into the pits at the end of the lap when Lightning Dust shot past. She took far too much speed into the corner and flew over the run off that also allowed her to cut the small turn ten.

Concorde opted to drive out of turn nine as fast as possible and was close behind her as she re-joined the track. After her mistake, he was gaining on her but even before the high hoof kink, she was starting to pull away. Through the kink, they were about even on speed, but as soon as the track straightened up, Dust accelerated away and was long gone by the time they reached the hairpin at turn twelve. His heart sank slightly as he peeled off the track and into the pit entry.

That was one of the fastest versus one of the slowest and in all honesty, he may as well have been stood still. He’d have to review some of her’s and Rainbow Dash’s rear facing camera footage to see if he could work something out to improve his speed, otherwise he would be in for a long, aggravating race.

ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Qualifying

Concorde propelled himself out of turn nine, through the first right kink and up the slight hill the back straight went over.

He’d dedicated the first half of third practice trying to increase his top speed ahead of qualifying. His first and second sectors put him in the top eight, but his final sector was so slow he’d end up outside the top ten.

He’d spent much of the evening, after the first two practice sessions, re-watching both Rainbow Dash’s and Lightning Dust’s rear facing cameras to see what exactly they did to fly at such speed, comparing their footage to his own. So far as he could see, their downward wing beats were much more forceful then his on their faster laps, which wouldn’t be possible to do over a race distance but for a single qualifying lap may just work.

At the end of the straight, he spotted his slowing point and spread himself out to create as big of an air brake as possible, going from supersonic speed to near enough gliding pace in seconds. He didn’t throw himself at the last few corners as quickly as he normally would as he needed a quick breather.

“Speed?” He prompted Maffett as he flew through the last few corners.

“You’re about three miles an hour faster tops.”

“Seriously?! I really flipping pushed that time!”

“Never said you didn’t, but you’re not getting much faster.”

“What’s Dash doing that I’m not?”

“Dunno, but it’s not worth getting worked up about. Might be that she’s just stronger then you, how many times has she beaten you at hoof wrestling?”

“What makes you think I’d record that to memory?”

“You seem to remember every time I thrash you at Paragon Fighter, but that hardly matters. We’ll see if we can get you a tow through sector three in qualifying, which should help.”

Concorde sighed as he slowly flew through the lap, moving aside as Zip Line came past into turn four. His direction change was incredibly quick and he was maintaining even more speed than Concorde could through those corners. Perhaps he should start focusing on something other than that dreaded third sector.

***

Waiting for qualifying to begin after lunch was a nightmare to Concorde. The slow, relentless march of time wasn’t quick enough to intercept his massing nerves as the first moment of truth of the weekend approached.

He could rarely eat when he was nervous and, after the last race, he had to force himself to eat something. He needed all the energy he could get for the fastest lap he’d set that weekend, for what that would be worth.

It didn’t seem to matter how fast of an exit he got onto the back straights of the track, his top speed would quickly reach its plateau some distance before anyone else would, dragging him back down the order before he’d reach the last few corners where he could claw some time back.

He needed to relax and take his mind off the unavoidable predicament, so he got out of the chair and went to where he left his guitar.

Except, it wasn’t where he left it.

He stared at the empty space next to the huge tool box belonging to the Bridleham team they were sharing the stable with in a strange state of shock. Most ponies considered it a mere lump of well fashioned wood, but for him it was his last link to his deceased, sweary grandparents on his father’s side.

He actually felt angry it had been taken without his permission.

“This thing’s not tuned in the slightest.” He heard someone muse and he instantly turned to see the culprit; Bridleham’s young mechanic.

Concorde stormed over without taking a moment to think.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He demanded, the young mechanic turning to face him and instantly looking terrified.

“Whoa, whoa, mate! Calm down!” He protested as Concorde snatched his guitar back.

“Don’t touch my guitar, alright?” Concorde said in the same demanding voice.

“Well, ok.” Was the response as Concorde turned away and went back to his chair.

As he got himself comfortable, Fleetfoot walked over with a clip board.

“Are you ok, Concorde?” She asked brightly.

“I’m fine, alright?!” Was Concorde’s almost instant, somewhat irate response. He’d rather not be bothered at a time like this.

“Don’t lie to yourself, you’re not.”

“Just-” He started, the annoyed comeback staling in his head at the fact she was right. “I need to calm down, leave me be.”

“Are you really that bothered about your speed?”

“Yes, I am. Haven’t you seen how much time I’m losing in the third sector?

“Yes, but you were among the top eight in the first two sectors, which is really impressive. The tools worked out that, come the race, you could make up for any lose in the third sector in the first two.”

“That’s only if I have a clear track.”

“Either way, you’re getting too worked up about one part of the track. You need to focus on what you’re good at and that’s cornering. I’ll leave this clipboard with your sector one and two times right here where you can see it.” Fleet finished before turning and leaving.

Concorde ignored it for a moment while he tuned the guitar back to where he liked it. Once satisfied, he had a look at the times and was taken aback for a moment.

His fastest first and second sector times put him fourth fastest at that point on the track. He’d never truly stopped practicing his speed flying during his time with the Red Hawks, but he didn’t expect to be anywhere near that competitive in the grand scheme of things. The fact his fastest third sector time dragged him all the way down the ninth still grated on him, but maybe he could do something with a ninth place starting position in the race.

***

Two hours later, qualifying for the race was building to its crescendo. Ten minutes of the session were left and Concorde was stood in the mouth of their stable with his gear on.

So far, qualifying had been frustrating. He’d had two five lap runs so far and something had disrupted him on what felt like his best laps of those runs. The wind was still gusting over the track and had ruined his entrance into turn eight on his first really good lap, while suddenly encountering a slowing Skyline over the crest of turn three and missing his slowing point disrupted the flow of the first and second sector during his second. This had left him only fifteenth on the provisional grid.

Concorde exhaled as he checked down the pit lane for any on coming flyers. Half the grid was already on track and with the final few minutes of the session everyone else would soon join them.

After waiting for Wildfire to glide past, Concorde took to the air and joined the queue behind her, straightening his goggles as he went.

“Dawn Wisp’s going to be on your right when you exit the pits on a fast lap.” Maffett warned him over the radio as he reached the end of the pit lane where the speed limit was lifted. As the barrier to the right of the pit exit road ended, Concorde glanced over and saw Dawn Wisp rocket past through turn two.

First things first, he needed to find some space to fly in, ideally far enough way so as not to be disturbed through sector one and two, but close enough to pick up a tow through sector three. Wildfire ahead of him wasn’t a good choice as while she was slightly faster than him in sector three, he was faster than her in the first two sectors and she’d likely just get in the way. As such he decided to nip past her, giving her plenty of room as she weaved to warm her wings up.

Once past and through turn five, he warmed himself up slightly on the short straight that connected sectors one and two. Dawn Wisp was long gone now while Wildfire was a few seconds behind him, so he had the track to himself for the time being.

As he approached the last few corners, he knew he wouldn’t have a tow for sector three this lap, but he should at least be able to move further up the grid if he could string together a cleaner lap.

“First lap’s clear. You'll have two more after.” Maffett informed Concorde, letting him know he shouldn’t encounter anyone as he rounded the last corner and powered down the start/finish straight, slowing as little as possible as he went over the small crest and down into turn one.

He hugged the inside of turn two all the way up the hill to turn three, where he slowed slightly and snap rolled left into it. Once past the corner, he levelled out and slowed slightly before snapping into the tight right and going back downhill. He beat his wings twice to gain momentum before gliding into turn five at the bottom of the hill before propelling himself through turn six and up the straight.

“Yellow flag, nine.” Maffett said over the radio, warning Concorde of a potential to slow down.

He made a mental note to look out for it as he slowed uphill slightly into turn seven. He focused his mind as he approached turn eight, the first apex being unsighted over the slight crest but after all his time in practice he knew exactly where it was.

He clipped the first apex perfectly with his wing, but his trajectory was slightly off and he narrowly missed the second apex. He was now in the wrong position for the third apex, too close to it to smoothly hit the fourth apex without readjusting himself, but he didn’t think he lost too much time as he headed down the straight to turn nine.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the yellow flag was being pulled in, indicating the corner was now safe, but he may encounter someone and, as he rounded turn ten, he saw that someone.

Lotus Stream was heading down the straight ahead of him well off the racing line, so he got in behind her for a tow before realising she wasn’t going full speed. Concorde paused for thought before swerving around her as they approached turn eleven, where he had to tilt in further to make the corner.

He reached turn twelve and pushed his slowing point as far as possible, stretching himself out to get down to speed before tilting in. After the high speed corners early in the lap, these three felt like they took an eternity as he rounded turns thirteen and fourteen and headed to the line.

“Personal best sector one.” Maffett informed him as he reached the line. “Up to thirteenth. Second lap’s clear.”

It was a start, he thought. Certainly better then fifteenth but he knew he could do better still.

He thundered into his next lap, taking a moment to glance at one of the big screens to see that there was only two minutes of qualifying left. He’d only have one more lap to use after this one, so long as he didn’t crash.

He finished the first sector in what seemed to be roughly the same time and prepared himself for turn eight. He tilted in slightly less this time, but immediately realised it wasn’t enough as he missed the first apex and readjusted himself to make sure he hit the rest of the apexes.

As he went down the back straight, he had enough time to glance at another big screen, seeing that he had enough time to do another lap and that it was focused on Ekstrom, his times being compared to Mercedes. Ekstrom had a purple mark next to his name to show he was fastest in the first sector and looked likely to be taking pole on that lap.

Concorde decided to effectively abandon the lap, slowing earlier for turn twelve and taking wider line into turn fourteen to give himself as much of a run up onto the start/finish straight as he could.

“No improvement.” Maffett informed him. “Last lap. Traffic.”

He’d encounter one or more racers this lap, either slowing down or on their own last attempts. He had to be pixel perfect as he went down the small hill and into turn one.

He propelled himself as hard as he could through the corner, opting to beat his wings earlier than usual to find more drive up the hill as one of the other slowing flyers got out of his way.

He exhaled slightly as he approached turn three, not snap rolling into it quite as fast as he did previously and allowing himself to roll with the corners, propelling himself whenever he felt comfortable. Coming through turn five and six, he wasn’t sure if he was going to scrape the ground, but put the idea out of his mind as he prepared for turn seven, exiting it smoothly and heading for turn eight.

As he came over the crest of the hill, he tilted in at an angle that was between the two he’d tried on the previous two laps, knowing instinctively it was right.

Apex one, perfect.

Apex two, tilt in tighter.

Apex three, open up the angle

Apex four, fire forwards.

That had been his best run through turn eight; he just knew it as he straightened up in the run towards turn nine. Ahead, he could see someone slowing down for the next turn and he knew they were going to be the closest thing he’d get to tow in the final sector.

He didn’t care who it was as he slowed, pushing his slowing point a few inches further and throwing himself into turn nine before powering up the hill, around the small turn ten and onto the back straight.

He could feel the slight change in the air density ahead coming from the slipstream of the flyer he pursued. He wasn’t gaining on them, but the slight reduction in wind shear was enabling him to at least keep pace.

He also knew it would affect his slowing by giving him less air to work with, but even then Concorde opted to push his slowing point as late as he dared, throwing his wings and legs out as far as he could to slow as quickly as he could.

Slight nausea from the extreme g-forces passed almost immediately as he focused on the apex of turn twelve to the left, hugging the left side of the track so he could have the best run he could into turn thirteen before finally firing himself out of turn fourteen and over the finish line.

After passing the waving chequered flag, he swerved to the left to avoid flying into the flyer he’d just followed, realizing it was Quicksilver as he went by.

“How was that?” Concorde hurriedly asked Maffett over the radio, his focus instantly breaking as qualifying had officially ended. He look up at the big screen as he went past, not seeing much besides the fact it was focusing on Power Drive.

“Ninth at the moment, but Power Drive’s on a quick lap.” She replied, pausing a moment before continuing, though the screen revealed the truth first. “Make that Tenth.”

Concorde sighed in a mixture of relief and slight disappointment, not quite noticing Power Drive fly past him. He’d thrown everything he had into that lap and come away with a better result than he was worried he would get after practice.

“By the way, you got the fastest first sector.” Maffett added, snapping Concorde out of his relieved mind set into a state of actual shock.

“You what?” He asked after a few moments.

“You were fastest in the first sector by point zero one of a second. You dropped to fourth in sector two then down again in sector three, but it’s not something to sniff at.”

He was stunned by that nugget of information, after being about a third of a second down on the fastest through that sector all through practice. He wasn’t entirely sure where he found the time and he couldn’t really help but grin broadly at the thought.

Of course, that was all prelude and completely unimportant. Tomorrow was the important day and he’d have to make the most out of his starting position.

Author's Note

Grid:
1: Ekstrom
2: Rossi
3: Mercedes
4: Zip Line
5: Dawn Wisp
6: Nicki Hest
7: Wolke
8: Jorge
9: Power Drive
10: Concorde
11: Aperto Jnr
12: Quicksilver
13: Blitzen
14: Skyline
15: Typhoon
16: Auroras Encore
17: Red Rum
18: Rainbow Dash
19: Wildfire
20: Lightning Dust
21: Lotus Stream
22: Velocidade
23: Leciec
24: Riggwelter

ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Build up

Concorde rewound the helmet footage of his fastest qualifying lap for the third time, right back to the beginning of the lap before opening a second recording, that of Ekstrom’s pole lap in order to run it side by side with his own.

By one hundredth of a second, a matter of centimetres, Concorde was the fastest of the fastest Pegasus’ in the world over a third of a lap. The exclamation marks from this revelation were still flashing in his head and drawing all his focus.

He had to know how he’d done it. It must have been some sort of fluke, possibly even a one off. He knew he was fast, but he never thought he’d be fast enough to best the best in the world as he hit the play buttons on both recordings.

From what he could see as he watched the footage through the first sector of the lap, Ekstrom had a slightly wider line that gave him more time to build up speed. Concorde hugged the inside of turn two and took a more direct route through turn three, four, five and six, leaving him ahead up the straight but the speed Ekstrom carried allowed him to catch up by turn seven.

Concorde paused both recordings and started to consider the details of his cornering in comparison, before something knocked him, causing him to stumble slightly to the side and bringing his focus back to the garage.

Lightning Dust and Spanner were arguing again, the former seemingly unhappy with the criticism she was given and being very animated in her displeasure, while Maffett and Fleetfoot looked on in amusement.

“You told me to fly as fast as I can through there.” Dust protested, pointing at her laptop which showed her flying through sector two.

“But you do need to slow down. If you keep flying that fast through corners, you’ll go wide and end up flying further then everyone else.” Spanner retorted.

“As much as I hate to agree with Dupont, he’s right.” Concorde injected, drawing an angry look from the former and an unimpressed look from the latter.

“Case in point;” Concorde continued, restarting the two recordings on his laptop. “Check my lap next to Ekstrom’s. He goes out a bit wider in turns one, two and three then I do and hits a late apex, giving himself more chance to build up speed. I take a slightly more direct approach to the corners, putting me in them for less time to make up for my-” Concorde paused, clearing his throat before continuing. “lack of speed.”

“How’s he on pole when he’s doing the same thing I am?”

“He’s doing similar, not the same. You’re pushing your slowing far later then you need to and you’re not slowing as much as you need to, putting you far wider than he is. His line helps him build more speed through sector two, hence why I’m losing out there.”

Dust pushed Concorde out of the way and looked at the footage.

“No need for that, lass.” Concorde remarked as Dust cancelled Concorde’s footage and replaced it with her own.

“Look here,” Concorde injected as the synchronised footage got to turn three. “You’ve slowed about two feet later then Ekstrom and only about seven eights as much. You then have to tilt in tighter for turns four, five and six to get through, scrubbing off lift and forcing you to spend more time flapping your wings to stay aloft then actually going forwards.

“As for turn eight, you do need to scrub off a little bit of speed before the first apex, while you just go in full beans and miss the first tw-”

“Just leave me alone, you stupid frog.” Dust cut in before he could finish, before turning and heading for the door.

There was a complete silence as her team watched her leave, interrupted by the tingle of tools from the kart team. Once she was gone, all heads turned to face Concorde.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how he should feel about being called a ‘frog’, but he couldn’t stop the corner of his lip from crawling upwards before he burst out laughing.

“Well, I’m not sure what I expecting.” Spanner mused before going back to what he was doing.

“Me neither.” Ratchett added.

“That’s actually the first time someone’s called me a frog.” Concorde managed after he’d stopped laughing.

“If I was going to call you anything, it’d probably be something to do with you being a Yorkshire pony.” Fleet shrugged.

“It’s a lazy insult, mind.”

“You’re more concerned about how imaginative the insult is, rather than the fact you were insulted?” Fleet queried.

“Have you really not listened to me and gari, over there?” Concorde asked, nodding his head towards an unamused Maffett.

“I try not to.”

“I get sick of listening to Percy Flankeney as well.” Maffett injected. Concorde chuckled after a quick moment to ponder her retort, though Fleet was left bemused.

“So you wouldn’t be bothered if Dust called you a ‘cheese eating surrender monkey’.” Fleet offered after a moment.

“By the insult, no. By her complete ignorance of history on the other hoof, yes. Emperor Marengo’s name’s down in history for a lot more than just his lose at Waterloo. Hell, French ponies don’t even eat frogs, that’s just a small group of French Griffins. It’s that sort of willing ignorance that really gets on my nerves.” Concorde finished, looking more annoyed as the sentence went on.

“Fair enough, but it’s not worth worrying about.” Fleet said, deciding they’d all had enough of this conversation. “I think you need to start focusing on tomorrow, starting with who’s around you on the grid.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll just get myself a cup of tea and get cracking.

***

Concorde glided through turns four and five on his way to the grid the next day. As was usual for him he hadn’t slept particularly well last night, not helped by Dust sitting with a laptop open until after two AM and seemingly radiating anger while refusing to acknowledge him, let alone say anything.

While a shower and several cups of tea got him through the morning, it was the wind through his wings and into his face that made him fully alert and relaxed, even if that would only be temporary.

Being fastest in the first sector in qualifying had drawn a surprising amount of media attention he’d rather not have. Microphones and cameras suddenly appearing in his face terrified him but while his quick wit enabled him to get him through the situation; he was worried he’d say completely the wrong thing or even casually swore as he’d do in private.

Even though he kept to himself and his own very small circle of friends, he didn’t want the larger world to think of him as a bad pony. He was serious about being friendly and sporting and really didn’t want a slip of the tongue to be twisted by some faceless tabloid writer or blogger to make him look bad and be made to look like Nicki Hest, who actively revelled in the fact he had been cast as a pantomime villain of sorts.

Concorde shuck the aimless thoughts from his mind as he arrived at the back of the grid, gliding over the assembled teams around the grid space and dodging around camera ponies in the air until he spotted Maffett.

“Feel a bit better?” Maffett asked as he landed before helping him take off his helmet and mouth guard.

“I’m alive, at the very least.” He replied as he rubbed his nose.

“You sure? You’re still making zombie-esk noises.”

“I thought you recognised the mourning for tea.”

“It’s either tea, pain au chocolat or fry ups. Never totally sure which.”

“You’re making me hungry now, mare.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll grab you something.” She said before quickly dashing off the grid.

Now alone, Concorde rocked back and forth as he looked around the grid. Being on the inside of the forth row was useful for getting the inside line into turn one, but would likely mean he couldn’t get to the inside of turn two. That was countered by the fact he’d have the inside for turn three, but again then the outside for turn four, should someone managed to stay side by side with him the whole way.

Various scenarios where things went wrong crossed his mind. Vanhoover wasn’t a stranger to big first lap incidents, usually when someone got the first corner wrong and t-boned someone else.

Aperto and Quicksilver to Concorde’s right weren’t known for being careful at the start, while Power Drive wasn’t the fastest starter. His best bet was to hold the left side of the track at the start, squeeze past whoever he could on the apex of turn one and hope Blitzen didn’t careen into his hind.

“Oi!” Maffett said, poking Concorde on the nose to snap him back to reality. “Have this.” She added, passing him an energy bar.

Concorde studied it for a moment, reading the ingredients on the back. It wasn’t long before Maffett snatched it out of his hooves, took the wrapper off and pushed it back into his hooves.

“Just eat the damn thing.” She scowled before going back to her clip board.

He looked at the energy bar again. He didn’t really feel hungry, even though he hadn’t eaten much all day so far. Fleet had chastised him more than once already over not eating, so he decided he may as well avoid another chastising and took a bite.

“Concorde, can we get a word?” Someone behind him asked as he finished biting, his eyes now wide open in surprise.

Concorde looked over his shoulder to see the EBC presenter DC approaching with a camera pony in tow. There was an awkward moment as DC realised Concorde was technically busy, while the Yorkshire stallion quickly tried to swallow the unchewed bit, indicating to give him a moment while he did so.

Concorde coughed once he’d swallowed, wiping a few beads of sweat from his brow before trying to compose himself, but by the time he’d done so DC had already moved on to speak with Power Drive. He sighed, partially relieved not to be interviewed while also disappointed to lose the distraction.

“That was embarrassing.” Concorde mused.

“Don’t worry about it.” Maffett reassured him as she checked his helmet, smirking. “Finish the bar and I’ll get your head back on.” She added, referring to the helmet.

Concorde did as she said, fiddling with the wrapper as he chewed the last bit. He looked up as the five minute board was shown and the media and guests started to head for the gap in the pit wall to get off the grid.

“Head up.” Maffett instructed as Concorde grabbed his mouth guard. He pulled it on as Maffett levitated his helmet over his head, putting it on once his mouth guard and goggles were in place.

Maffett grabbed her headset as Concorde fastened the helmet and put it on.

“Radio check; one, two, three.” She said.

“Four, five. How’s that fish?” Concorde replied, tugging at the strap to make sure it was tight.

“Well, you know me and pets.” Maffett smiled as she gathered up the stuff she had laying around the grid spot. Once satisfied, she fixed Concorde with a look and smiled, holding out her hoof. “Good luck.”

Concorde bumped her hoof, returning a smile she couldn’t see due to the mouth guard. She turned to head off the grid, following in the last few stragglers as the gate was pulled shut.

He focused forwards, seeing past the three racers stood directly in front of him. The wind was flowing over him, picking up slightly as the race start approached.

“Wind’s getting stronger, still from the west.” Maffett confirmed over the radio. “Wind socks are on the outside of turns one and seven.”

While he didn’t need it, the reminder was welcome. He didn’t normally reply to Maffett’s information unless he had something to say, so she wasn’t worried about his silence.

On the gantry over the start line, Concorde saw the green flag wave to indicate they could start their warm up lap. He took a deep breath, letting a few flyers pass him before taking off.

ECRL Round 3: Vanhoover - Race

Concorde landed on his grid spot and exhaled gently, letting his eyes close for a moment.

Here he was in race three, stood in tenth position as some of his fellow competitors made their way past him to their own grid positions. They were the best in the world, ponies he had a huge amount of respect and admiration for, but right now they were the enemy. They’d give him no quarter and he would ask for none. The aim was to win and while he knew he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t going to hold anything back.

He opened his eyes, aware of the world around him. Everything was set. The wind was rolling over him from behind, which would help everyone’s start.

“Just waiting on a couple stragglers.” Maffett informed Concorde as Nicki Hest glided past and into his position. “Everyone’s in position.”

Concorde shifted his hooves to get the best possible jump he could. Being a tarmac track he couldn’t shift it to make a better jumping off point but it would mean that, barring reaction time, everyone will get a fairly similar start.

He focused up at the gantry, seeing the pony holding the Equestrian flag, some mare who was apparently a voice actor but he’d forgotten her name. Everything went quiet as he held it aloft and waited.

Waited.

Waited...

Waited……

Go!

As the flag fell Concorde leapt forwards in unison with Wolke directly ahead of him, driving his wings backwards perfectly with a fresh gust of wind that propelled him and the rest of the grid forwards.

He hugged the inside, seeing Power Drive drifting over into the pony sized gap there was between Concorde and Wolke, but he wasn’t going as quickly. A quick glance to the right revealed his only option to keep his speed by going around Power Drive wasn’t available as Aperto was directly next to him, leaving Concorde pinned to the inside.

The first corner approached quickly and Concorde had to run with the situation he was in where he’d lose a position or two to those on the outside with more momentum. He managed to slow at the right moment to avoid hitting Power Drive, but he could see ahead that Wolke wasn’t slowing fast enough.

Whoever was on Wolke’s right didn’t see the Bavarian pony’s mistake and the two collided, not fast enough to knock either of them out of the air but enough to cause them to head away from the apex and towards the run off and causing the pack behind to slow to avoid them.

This left Power Drive with a sizable gap to fly into, which Concorde followed. As they turned into turn two, Concorde glanced to the right to see if anyone was there and strangely enough, there wasn’t.

Concorde focused on following Power Drive up towards turn three, opting to stay in line into the corner. He took the opportunity to take a quick look over his left shoulder to see who was behind him and was surprised to see at least a second’s gap behind.

“Quicksilver’s out.” Maffett informed Concorde as he powered up the straight after turn six. “He tangled with Aperto after Wolke and Jorge touched. You’re safe in eighth at the moment.”

That was music to his ears as he checked the wind sock before turning into turn seven. It was still moving slightly, so he decided to match Power Drive’s pace through the long turn eight. He could see that he and Power Drive were still close to the pack ahead, but for the moment attacking wasn’t his best option.

As they raced out of turn ten Concorde made sure he was tucked in behind Power Drive as they went down the back straight. He made sure he was as thin as possible as their speeds increased, this body getting shaken to the core as those ahead of him broke the sound barrier. Even with his vision shaken into a complete blur he could see he wasn’t losing much in the slip stream, or at least nowhere near as much as he had been before.

Concorde moved slightly to the left after they exited the turn eleven kink to see the pack ahead. The leaders were just approaching turn twelve while he and Power Drive were chasing Dawn Wisp, who was flying in the middle of the track to defend but Power Drive wasn’t looking to attack. With his wing out of the slip stream, Concorde could feel how strong the wind was getting. Being at the back of the pack was helping him as they were impeded by the worst of the wind.

He picked his slowing spot, remaining conservative as they went into the last few corners. Ahead of Power Drive and Dawn Wisp, Concorde recognised Ekstrom, Nicki Hest and Rossi with Mercedes and Zip Line leading at the end of the first lap.

He was right on the tail of some of the best flyers in the world, including three champions. He was giddy with excitement as they finished the first lap.

“You’ve got a two point nine seconds gap to Blitzen behind you.” Maffett informed him over the radio.

“Got it.” Concorde confirmed. “Going to plan my next move.”

***

Six laps of planning passed with next to no real options presenting themselves. Concorde was able to corner quicker than some of those ahead, but if he did manage to make an overtake it would still leave him vulnerable into the best overtaking spot on the track at turn twelve, which he couldn’t utilise himself.

There had been plenty of overtaking ahead of him, however. Mercedes led the pack after passing Zip Line into turn seven while Hest, Ekstrom and Rossi were swapping positions almost constantly. Power Drive and Dawn Wisp seemed to be planning their moves as well as they hadn’t even tried to overtake those ahead yet.

“Blitzen’s catching by point three of a second a lap.” Maffett updated Concorde. Blitzen had shaken the pack he was in and was setting fastest laps to catch back up with the lead pack.

“Go dark.” Concorde instructed Maffett.

“Going dark.” She replied, letting him know she wouldn’t say anything unless it was important.

If Blitzen was catching, he had to start making moves forwards now rather than dilly dally as he currently was. As they were only in turn eight, Concorde had to wait. Turn three would be his best option, possibly a late dive into the corner as Power Drive prepared to enter it with a slightly wider line then Concorde was using, which would enable him to make use of his cornering speed to try and make a gap that would protect him down the back straight.

As Concorde made his way through turn twelve, he took a glance over his shoulder to see Blitzen was now around about a second behind him. With the sort of slipstream he’d be getting, he could easily pass Concorde on the next lap or the one after.

Over the line Concorde tucked in as close behind Power Drive as he could, guess his slowing point so he didn’t lose any momentum through turn one. As they went through turn two, Concorde waited for his moment as the curb came into view over the crest of the hill they were going over. As soon as he saw it, barely a second before his usual slowing spot, he dived for the inside of the corner. Power Drive disappeared from the corner of his eye as they approached turn four and Concorde’s usual look into the corner as he turned didn’t reveal him, meaning he’d made the overtake stick.

Now was the time to push as he threw himself through turns five and six and towards seven. Dawn Wisp and the pack ahead were helping Concorde along, but they were slowing slightly earlier then he was and preventing him from pushing as hard as he’d like. Through turn eight they didn’t cause a problem but as they approached turn nine, Concorde started to worry.

He had seen out of the corner of his eye when cornering that he hadn’t dropped Power Drive at all. He had to get as much of a slipstream off Dawn Wisp as he could as they went through turns nine and ten and down the back straight.

As the pack went through the turn eleven kink, Concorde glanced to his right to see if Power Drive was still directly behind to see that he wasn’t. Unless he’d crashed, he had to be looking to make a move down the straight into turn twelve, so Concorde stayed to the inside of the track as those head headed for their slowing point (or made overtakes of their own).

Being out of the slip stream, Concorde felt the full force of the wind as he beat his wings for all his might. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Power Drive drawing level with him as they reached the half way point of the straight. With momentum on Power Drive’s side, Concorde’s only option was to get into the corner first, so he moved back to the middle of the track and prepared himself.

He had to slow earlier then Power Drive because of the tighter line he’d be on, but as he turned in he drew back alongside the more experienced racer. They were side by side on the short approach to turn thirteen, but Concorde now had no choice but to accept losing out as they turned into it and following in his wake through turn fourteen.

Concorde sighed in slight disappointment as he re-evaluated his options for overtaking. His thoughts were interrupted when he realised Blitzen was on his inside into turn one far too late to do anything about it. He was now back down to ninth at the start of lap eight with another fifty to go and he really hoped he wasn’t going to spend the whole race staring at someone’s backside.

***

Ten laps passed as Concorde watched those ahead battle for position. He still didn’t have much of an opportunity to make his way up the order as Mercedes and Zip Line tried to make a break while Blitzen made his way past Power Drive and then Dawn Wisp with his sights set now on Ekstrom.

Nicki Hest and Rossi were the only non-movers at the moment, which was a surprise as they weren’t exactly known for their reserve. Still, it wasn’t a short race and holding back for a later attack may work out, as Maffett had pointed out when Concorde voiced his frustrations to himself and forgot he still had a radio.

He at least had nothing to worry about from behind at the moment. Being on the back of the lead pack had the benefit of drawing him away from the rest of the field and he was now over five seconds ahead of the pony in tenth. He didn’t know where his team mates were, but as they weren’t directly affecting his race he wasn’t particularly bothered.

As the pack went down the black straight for the nineteenth time, Concorde looked ahead to see if anyone was making a move. With Blitzen having advanced up the order, Ekstrom was looking to make an escape himself and was looking to pass Hest as they approached turn twelve.

Concorde hung back slightly, Power Drive and Blitzen having a similar idea as Ekstrom went into turn twelve side by side with Hest. In the short run to turn thirteen, Hest came back over on his line as if Ekstrom wasn’t even there, but even on the outside he was able to stay level and into turn fourteen and onto the start finish straight, Ekstrom was able to make the move stick.

Hest wasn’t letting Ekstrom keep the place as he immediately tried to overtake into turn one, shoving his way onto the apex of the corner, but Ekstrom pulled back ahead through turn two and pulled across Hest’s nose into turn three.

With his momentum interrupted, Hest was in danger of being overtaken by Blitzen as they headed into turn seven, but he wasn’t close enough to make the pass. Through turns eight, nine and ten and down the back straight Hest had to occasional glance to the side, but kept in line until turn twelve, where he darted out as he and Ekstrom started to slow, with Power Drive making a slightly more reasoned move on Dawn Wisp behind.

They were both headed for the same apex, the one ahead unaware of the one behind until too late as the pair collided. Hest’s body hit the upper part of Ekstrom’s wing and caused it to buckle, immediately losing lift and causing him to hit the ground, sliding off into the run off area. The impact caused Hest to wobble hugely in the air, taking him off the track as well but he remained in the air and threw himself back on track as Power Drive completed his move on Dawn Wisp.

Hest didn’t have much concern for Dawn Wisp’s presence as he shoved his way between him and Power Drive, but with his loss of momentum, Power Drive was able to pull away and Concorde was presented with an opportunity.

He took a wide line into turn fourteen and squared off the corner, allowing himself more room to accelerate and found he’d passed Dawn Wisp before they even reached the back of the grid. His momentum even brought him alongside Hest as they slowed for turn one.

Seeing no reason to waste this second opportunity, Concorde pulled out to make an overtake at the last possible moment, heading for the apex as Hest started to turn in. He looked over his right shoulder to see he and Hest were going to be side by side out of the corner, the Danish pony having the inside line for the long turn two.

However, as Concorde went to turn right he found that Hest wasn’t interested in the normal racing line. He was staying as wide as he could, keeping Concorde pinned to the outside line of the track. He was even actively watching Concorde, as if making sure he was going to ruin Concorde’s attempt at an overtake.

Hest was known for hard, borderline dangerous racing but Concorde wasn’t going to buckle. He stayed on line around the outside, leaving the pair of them vulnerable to Dawn Wisp but with the longer way to go, Concorde lost out and Hest got back ahead before turn three. However, now he’d turned his attention away from Concorde he saw Dawn Wisp was coming and veered over to curb his advance. Again, Concorde had the advantage as the inside of turn three was left completely undefended and he went through into what was now sixth position.

Power Drive had pulled away as he pursued Blitzen, Rossi, Zipline and Mercedes ahead. Concorde afforded himself a look at the wind sock on the outside of turn seven as he chased after the pack and saw it was almost getting pulled off the post. As the straight between turns six and seven was in a dip he couldn’t really feel it, but as he exited turn seven he got it’s full force behind him which catapulted him up the straight far faster than normal.

He prepared himself as he turned into the opening of turn eight, making himself less of a target as the wind hit him whilst fully tilted over. He couldn’t avoid it completely as his line took him wider then he’d like and threatened to put him off the track before he finally exited the turn.

“Corde, you’re sixth. Ekstrom’s out and Dawn Wisp and Hest are just outside your slip stream.” Maffett informed him. Power Drive ahead was just assay close enough to give Concorde a slip stream and with the heavy wind holding the pack up he should be able to stick with him down the back straight.

Concorde kept his focus forwards, making sure he was fully in the slipstream of pack ahead as the wind picked up again, going slightly sideways as he went through the turn eleven kink on the back straight. He angled himself slightly into it so as to provide as little resistance as possible and he actually started to gain on Power Drive just ahead of his slowing point at the end of the straight.

Through three corners and over the start finish line and Concorde was only just over a pony length behind. He afforded himself a look over his shoulder and saw that Hest and Dawn Wisp were almost two seconds behind now, well outside his slip stream and, for the time being, safe.

***

The laps ticked by as Concorde observed those ahead of him. Hest and Dawn Wisp were busy scrapping with each other and had lost another two seconds to Concorde at the back of the lead pack, which provided him with all the time he needed to see what the fastest in the world did.

As he entered the final third of the race, he had worked out their potential weaknesses and even improved on his own and started to catch slightly into turn twelve while slowing. It would give him a chance to do a late block pass but he’d have to rely on the reactions of the pony he was overtaking to ensure there wasn’t a crash.

It was true that he could just sit back and cruise to the end of the race in a near guaranteed sixth, which would be an amazing result for him, but he knew there was potential to do better. Not to mention he didn’t like being considered ‘conservative’.

As the lead pack exited turn ten and rocketed along the back straight, Concorde decided he’d make a move. Power Drive ahead wasn’t escaping him with only a pony’s length separating their outstretched hooves, but as they went through the turn eleven kink Power Drive opted to keep to the racing line and headed to the right side of the track.

Concorde stuck to the middle of the track, still not gaining but Power Drive seemingly hadn’t noticed him. With no pack in his way, Concorde could see what was happening ahead and Zip Line and Rossi were side by side, hugging the left side of the track as they fought. As the pair threw their wings out to slow, Zip Line started to wobble and collided with Rossi. Concorde slowed as fast as he could as Blitzen and Power Drive dived to the lift to get to the apex as Zip Line and Rossi flat spun away, leaving a wide gap for the three of them to get past.

Once through turn twelve, Concorde looked over his shoulder to see what became of the pair of them were still airborne but well off the track. Rossi throwing a somewhat rude gesture at Zip Line as the pair reoriented themselves and got back on track, but they were now well behind even Hest and Dawn Wisp, who had started to gain.

As Concord turned his attention forwards, he saw that Power Drive was now having a go at Blitzen into turn thirteen, the defending Blitzen trying to pin Power Drive to the inside of the turn so he had the inside into turn fourteen.

With them both so far over to the right and focused on themselves, there was an enormous gap on the left. Concorde didn’t even take a moment to think about any potential move and dove straight into the gap, now the inside of turn fourteen as they headed over the line.

Concorde stuck to the middle of the track as they headed towards turn one, taking a glance to his left to see if they’d try and attack.

“You’ve got space, Corde!” Maffett shouted over the radio, getting wrapped up in the excitement.

Concorde was excited too as the reality dawned on him that he was, on merit, second in an Equestrian Cloud Racing League race. Mercedes in the lead had gained over a second during the chaos, but now Concorde had some sort of space as they headed into his strongest section of the track. He had to push to make sure he’d get a hold of the position ahead of the back straight, so he threw himself through turns one and two, up the hill and into three. He flapped his wings as fast as he could and rolled side to side faster than he had before as he tried to find every ounce of speed he could through the first sector of the lap.

“Gap?” Concorde prompted as he headed down the short straight to turn seven.

“Half a second. Power Drive, Blitzen and Hest are close together.” Maffett replied as Concorde went through turn seven.

He had to get turn eight absolutely right if he wanted to escape, or at least stand a chance of holding off an attack into turn twelve. He lined himself up carefully on the approach and tilted in.

He hit the first apex perfect, but as his turning arch took him towards the second apex as gust of wind picked up. His inside wing nearly tucked underneath him and he had to turn out of the corner to make sure he didn’t lose lift and crash.

“B*******!” He nearly shouted to himself as the apex drifted away and he headed towards the outside line of the track. Once he’d regained lift on his inside wing he turned back into the corner and flapped his wings hard to try and at least stay ahead, but Power Drive was already alongside him.

There was nothing he could do to stop Power Drive overtaking him into turn nine, but as they turned up the hill and through turn ten onto the back straight, Concorde was at least able to get in behind Power Drive and ahead of Blitzen.

Power Drive was able to draw away out of the corner and up towards the turn eleven kink and Concorde knew he’d have little to help him against Blitzen, who was likely already eyeing up a move. As they came out of turn eleven, Concorde hugged the left of the track again and kept an eye out over his left shoulder and sure enough Blitzen was gaining on his outside. He had to do something to hold off Blitzen, so Concorde started moving right to try and impede Blitzen’s line.

Blitzen looked over, the look in his eyes seemingly wondering what the young stallion was doing before backing out of the attempted overtake before they slowed for turn twelve. It was an overly aggressive move, but it held Blitzen off as they turned in.

Concorde caught a glimpse of something out of the left corner of his eye before he was suddenly struck by something going quite quickly. The impact spun him around clock wise and took him off the track before he’d realise someone had hit him in the middle of the corner. After a full spin he found he was still airborne and close to the track. He quickly returned to the track careful not to fly into Dawn Wisp .

“What the f*** was that?” Concorde asked Maffett as he flew across the line, though now he could see the order ahead he knew what ‘that’ was.

“It was Hest. You’re sixth with Rossi about three seconds behind.” Maffett replied.

“That mother f***er, he used me as a brake!” Concorde said angrily.

“Calm down, Corde. You’re still in a good position and there’s fifteen laps left.”

“I was f***ing second!”

“And now you’re sixth, just make sure you stay there.” Fleetfoot suddenly injected over the radio.

Concorde really wanted to argue back, but as Dawn Wisp started to inch away through turn one and two he realised he didn’t have the luxury. He chased after Dawn Wisp through the lap and onto the back straight, but Concorde wasn’t close enough to benefit from a slip stream and Dawn Wisp pulled away.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to his current position.

“Keep me up to date on the gap to Rossi.” Concorde asked Maffett as he crossed the line, but it seemed he was in for a quieter end to the race.

***

The remaining laps ticked down slowly, Concorde now very much on his own as Dawn Wisp drew away and Rossi fell slowly back. The chequered flag came as somewhat of a relief as Concorde rounded the final corner and glided over the line.

He let his head and legs droop as he glided along, breathing heavily in exhaustion and frustration. He had been running in second for nearly a whole lap in only his third race and it was his own mistake that cost him the position.

“Good work, Corde. A solid sixth place is nothing to sniff at.” Maffett said reassuringly.

“I know, but I could have been second.” Concorde sighed, still disappointed.

“I know, but there’s still plenty of races to go this year. You can still get that podium yet.”

Concorde raised his head as he glided around the track, up towards turn seven where Dawn Wisp, who'd managed to overtake Blitzen on the penultimate lap, was and Nicki Hest were seemingly engaged in a slagging off match. A level of fury built up in Concorde at the sight of the Dane and he hurried up to catch them.

“Don’t come crying to me, just because you’re not good enough.” Hest shot at Dawn Wisp before taking off towards turn eight.

“That’s big, coming from you!” Concorde instinctively shouted. He’d watched Hest racing for years and knew full well he’d only been successful because of his dirty racing tactics and hearing such a hypocritical remark always made him angry.

Before Concorde could chase after Hest and knock him out of the air, Dawn Wisp put his own hoof up and caught the young stallion.

“It’s not worth it.” Dawn Wisp said simply. Concorde still had furious eyes locked on Hest as he disappeared, but after a moment he managed to take a deep breath and accept that Dawn Wisp was indeed right.

“Good race, by the way.” Concorde said, offering Dawn Wisp his hoof, which the older racer shook.

“It was, though you were pretty aggressive with your defence.”

“I had no choice, I couldn’t out drag any of you.”

“Still, you do need to be careful with moves like that. I imagine it kept your fans entertained at the very least.” Dawn Wisp said, indicating to a field of banners on the outside of turn eight, where normally no one stood.

Concorde looked over confused, before realising they were all banners for himself, Dash and Dust. There were a few ponies among the banners, but front and centre was Pinkie Pie, leaping up and down and waving several flags as he went past.

“How long’s Pinkie been there?” Concorde asked Maffett as he waved back.

“Outside of turn eight? All weekend. Haven’t you noticed she’s barely been in the stable?” She replied, though Concorde’s lack of a response answered her question.

Concorde smiled as he flew back, waving back to her. He made a mental note to buy her a drink later for her efforts.

Author's Note

FINAL RESULT:
1. Mercedes
2. Power Drive
3. Nicki Hest
4. Blitzen
5. Dawn Wisp
6. Concorde
7. Rossi
8. Zip Line
9. Aperto Jnr
10. Red Rum
11. Wildfire
12. Wolke
13. Skyline
14. Leciec
15. Rainbow Dash
16. Lightning Dust
17. Viking Blond
18. Lotus Stream
19. Riggwelter
20. Typhoon
21. Auroras Encore
22. Jorge (DNF)
23. Ekstrom (DNF)
24. Quicksilver (DNF)

Championship Standings:
1. Mercedes – 49
2. Zip Line – 47
3. Wolke – 30
4. Power Drive – 28
5. Ekstrom – 25
6. Rossi – 24
7. Blitzen – 20
8. Concorde – 18
9. Nicki Hest – 16
10. Dawn Wisp – 16
11. Quicksilver – 10
12. Jorge – 8
13. Aperto Jnr – 3
14. Red Rum – 1

Do not trust with Media

Concorde was led into the interview pen after he’d been weighed by the race officials. He dried his sweat soaked mane with a towel to make sure he was still presentable, even if he’d rather not be cooped up and surrounded by media.

Looking around at the other racers being interviewed or talking to whoever accompanied them, Maffett in Concorde’s case, he realised he lacked something they had.

“Do you have your sun glasses with you?” He asked Maffett.

“No, but even if I did they wouldn’t look even half as ridiculous as these lot, not that a 20/20 scrub like you’d be able to see through them.” She smirked, looking around. Perri of the EBC was waving to get their attention as Zip Line move along.

“Over there.” Maffett said, nudging Concorde to remind him he couldn’t escape, but also making sure he didn’t look in Nicki Hest’s direction as he’d spent a lot of the short time since the race riled up about the coming together.

“Oh fine.” He sighed before heading over. He barely needed to wait a moment before Perri started her interview, which so far as he was aware wasn’t live.

“Concorde, only race three and you’re already fighting for podiums. How was the race for you?” Perri asked, Concorde re-thinking her words in his head before answering.

“It was good.” He answered, keeping his voice straight while he searched his brains for a more compelling answer. “Have to admit I wasn’t expecting to be fighting for such high finishes so soon, but it was good.”

“It looked like you were struggling to hold off the pack at the end of the back straight whenever you got ahead.”

“Aye, it’s true I’m not exactly the quickest pair of wings in a straight line. I was trying to get through in the first couple of corners so I could pull away, but in a pack like that it’s easier said than done.”

“You had a few battles with Nicki Hest along the way as well as Dawn Wisp and Power Drive.” She continued, Concorde’s straight face faltering. “How does it feel to be battling such highly regarded flyers so early in your first season?”

“I don’t think about it, actually.” He said, his straight face returning. “On track they’re just any other racer so I give them the same respect I’d show anyone else I’m racing.”

“You had an accident with Nicki towards the end of the race as well, any thoughts?”

“If that was an accident, I’d hate to see what’s deliberate.” He said, his displeasure all over his face.

“Thanks Concorde.” Perri smiled in an almost practiced way before turning to her camera pony. Concorde looked at Maffett to find her with her face in her hoof.

***

Concorde regarded the television as they sat in their train carriage ahead of leaving Vanhoover. It had been his best race so far, yet now he was only furious as the news reported on how he’d apparently blasted Nicki Hest.

His ‘if that’s an accident’ remark had become the focus of the after race programs, along with a replay of Nicki flying into Concorde on turn twelve. It was clear to see Nicki hardly slowed down and used Concorde to stop instead of his own wings, but many of the pundits thought Concorde was already growing too big for his boots and was itching for a confrontation.

Maffett had initially chastised him for the remark before hurrying him back to the stable at the earliest opportunity, but now she found his discomfort and annoyance rather entertaining.

“That’s what you get for not thinking when dealing with the media.” Fleet remarked as she updated some of her post-race notes.

“Well f*** them.” Concorde said angrily, before heading over to the kettle for his fifth cup of tea since the race ended while Maffett giggled.

“Such language.” Rainbow Dash mocked, finding his annoyance amusing as well. “You’d think you were raised in a dock town.”

“Come on Concorde, smile!” Pinkie encouraged, bouncing around. “You were nearly second.”

“That’s as worthwhile as nearly surviving being shot.” Concorde commented dryly, causing Fleetfoot to laugh while Dash and Pinkie looked stunned.

“Regardless of what you said, ill-conceived as it was, Nicki’s completely in the wrong.” Ratchett commented, watching the TV with Spanner.

“He is. He made no attempt to stop and I’m amazed the stewards said nothing.” Spanner added.

“They probably just shrugged and said ‘It’s Hest’.” Maffett remarked.

“Seriously though, Concorde, Pinkie has a point.” Fleet said once she’s stopped laughing. “You were second on merit, even if it wasn’t for long. You just make your tea, sit quietly for a while and calm down and you’ll realise she’s right.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Concorde sighed as the kettle finished boiling. “Anyone else want one while I’m here?”

No one took him up on the offer as they’d already reached their maximum tea intake for the next week. As he poured milk and sugar while the kettle boiled, Concorde looked around the cabin at his team mates.

Rainbow Dash was laid out on one of the benches, reading some lap charts that quite clearly hid a Daring Doo book. Ratchett had already caught onto this ruse and magiced it out of her hooves, promising to let her have it back if she read through the data for half an hour.

Concorde was aware that many considered him unfocused and foolish, but he was committed to his racing. Dash was certainly committed to getting into the Wonderbolts, yet while she didn’t seem particularly interested in the racing still threw herself into doing it as well as she could on track. Lightning Dust on the other hoof clearly couldn’t care less and he was surprised she’d even stuck out the first race, let alone three.

Even with their lack of interest he was impressed with them. They were amazing flyers and had even picked up the massively different discipline that was cloud racing fairly quickly after their previous focus as performance flyers. He still doubted they’d prove him with any serious challenge, but he at least knew he may have to keep an eye out for them in future.

It's just a minor obsession

Concorde flopped onto his comfortable bed as soon as he returned to his bedroom in Ponyville, taking a moment to drop his suitcase at the foot of his bed. Returning to what was your own bed was a simple pleasure after being away and after living in Ponyville for a few months the silence of the night they’d returned in was somewhat more welcoming.

It didn’t distract him from his concern, though; How in Equestria could he make himself faster? His ultimate top speed hadn’t been much of an issue in club racing or when performing with the Red Hawks, but now it was a critical flaw in his racing. He was quick enough in corners to get away from most of his rivals, but being unable to hold them off down a straight rendered his advantage moot.

He contemplated some options as he gazed up at the dark ceiling, hearing the others shifting around in their own rooms as they unpacked or continued whatever training they did. He’d observed how Lightning Dust and Rainbow Dash flapped their wings to try and figure out how they were so much faster than him in a straight line, but mimicking them hadn’t made much difference.

Perhaps it was down to raw strength? Both his teammates were physically stronger than he was, but he didn’t think the added muscle bulk would help in the long run, not when he was already a good, aerodynamic shape.

He looked at his clock as he thought, remembering that the race re-run would be on TV shortly. Maybe he could get some more ideas from watching those he was losing out to so he rolled off the bed, threw his suitcase open and rummaged around for his note book before heading downstairs, taking a moment to grab his mug along the way.

It was probably more appropriate to call the habit he’d gotten into, of re-watching the full race the once he’d gotten home, a ritual as he turned the living room lights back on. Everyone else was getting ready for bed now they’d returned but Concorde didn’t feel particularly sleepy with his desire for improvement.

Once he’d prepared a cup of tea and settled down in a beanbag he grabbed the remote and turned the TV on in time for the warm up lap. The race was being recorded as well so he could rewind it to his heart’s content but he always enjoyed watching races either live or as live.

The coverage mostly followed the lead group Concorde was shadowing, the occasional flash of scarlet appearing at the back of many shots as he followed and tried to figure out how to get through. He spent at least an hour without realising he could reverse footage so he could get a better look at the wing techniques of those ahead of him to try and figure out how they were so much faster, but besides slight differences he couldn’t really make much out.

He sighed loudly in thought as the coverage played, the commentators occasionally complimented him but he felt there wasn’t much to compliment considering he was mainly just shadowing. As he clambered out of the beanbag to get another cup of tea Zip Line and Rossi had their run in at turn twelve and he paused to watch.

The commentators were going mad as moves each flyer in the group had clearly been planning were thrown out of the window and improvisation took over. Even the camera ponies didn’t seem to realise Concorde had sneaked past Power Drive and Blitzen in the first few corners of the lap, but embarrassment wasn’t far away as he watched the action reach turn eight, he bobbled and drifted wide, the commentators stated as such in wild excitement.

As the now close knit pack reached turn twelve Concorde grit his teeth, his brow lowering in anger as he watched Hest dive towards the inside of Blitzen and then himself. He could tell Hest wasn’t even attempted to slow down from the angle of his wings and the speed he took into the corner before hitting Concorde in the side, launching him off the track in the process. The commentators voiced their disappointment at the move as Concorde scrabbled back into the air and onto the track, now further down the order.

He was even more annoyed that Hest wasn’t going to be penalised in anyway as he claimed Blitzen had slowed early and he had to take avoiding action. Sadly the claim held weight as Blitzen had backed out of his attempt to overtake Concorde and as such was slowing earlier, but it was still clear Hest made no effort to slow down outside of ramming another racers and that sort of dishonest tactic made his blood boil.

Concorde closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths to calm his anger before watching the rest of the race. Mercedes and Power Drive were long gone while Dawn Wisp and Hest fought over the last podium position, the Danish pony slipping past into turn one on the penultimate lap to snatch the position.

While still angry at losing a possible podium position in only his third race, he now felt slightly more vindicated after having time to calm down on his sixth place finish. If he could do something about his main weakness he could potentially challenge and avoid situations such as that, but he had to figure out how to deal with it first.

***

The next morning brought the usual routine as Fleetfoot assembled Flitter and Cloudchaser, rebuilt the test track yet again and sent Concorde out to figure out the racing line. The next race at Dodge Junction, an entirely new track to everyone, was going to be a rollercoaster with twin interlocking loops and a lot of climbing and descending, to which Fleetfoot, Flitter and Cloudchaser built a track that looked like a heavily slopped oval with a loop on one straight. Judging from the crazy pictures of the so called Dodge Challenge track their test track was nothing like it, which all three racers and their spotters pointed out, but it would at least be useful to work out speed and endurance while descending and ascending.

After the first hour Concorde landed on the observation platform and grabbed a note pad after he’d removed his helmet and towelled down his mane. He then sat down and intently watched Dash and Dust to see exactly what they were doing.

Dust hadn’t failed to notice him pull off the track as she hurtled down the decline into the loop, which seemed to go on for longer than it seemed it would when she looked at the track initially. It was hugely annoying as she had to time her wing beats just right to climb to the top of the loop and then let gravity take control on her way back down and out of it, where she started beating her wings again to speed towards the next corner.

She was actually looking forwards to the next race as the track looked to be far more interesting than the flat strips of cloud and tarmac they’d raced on so far. Why racing ponies restricted themselves to mostly flat plane tracks eluded Dust when it was far more fun to loop and roll, but it didn’t really matter to her.

What did matter was winning and, as much as she hated to admit it, she had to take a few ideas off the lead ponies ahead of Concorde. Seeing him sat on the observation platform made her suspicious, as if he was hiding some tricks form her. Maybe he was going to actually start doing what Fleetfoot hired him for, which was to improve her’s and Dash’s flying. In which case he could get stuffed.

She didn’t need advice from someone like him. She’d watched his performance flying with the Red Hawks and he was terrible, only seemingly there to pull off one stunt in the form of the Sonic Blossom which wasn’t even that impressive. It seemed like the sort of maneuverer that was thrown together at the last minute, rather than worked on for any length of time.

Dash wasn’t much better as she just relied on the flashy colours she was fortunate enough to be born with. She could take all of Concorde’s bogus advise she wanted, which was likely to prevent her from challenging him, but Dust was going to take her ‘advise’ from someone was actual credentials instead.

After another hour’s racing around the short track, Fleetfoot held out the chequered flag to summon Dash and Dust back to the platform. Concorde had written a couple pages of notes already, which Dash looked at as she passed.

“You’re trying to learn off us?” She asked, slightly surprised as she took her helmet off.

“Aye. You two are much faster than me in a straight line and that’s my main weakness at the moment.”

“You need to build up some muscles, Concorde.” Spanner commented as he offered Dust now helmetless Dust a towel which she ignored.

“You’re not going to get much faster through technique alone.” Ratchett added, his towel offered to Dash being accepted.

“I’m perfectly streamlined and I’d rather not lose that.” Concorde retorted.

“You know you can build muscle without losing that, you dolt.” Maffett added.

Dash watched the exchange with curiosity as she towel dried her mane. It seemed strange to her that after learning a lot of him that he was now trying to learn off her. She’d come on in leaps and bounds after the embarrassment that was Cloudsdale after following his advice and a few examples, but now he seemed to be getting wrapped up in his own weakness.

She wasn’t entirely sure if it was amusing or not to watch him argue with the three spotters while Dust ignored the whole thing as an annoyance, but she at least knew when she finally catches him that she could exploit that weakness.

On the Rails: Reloaded

Considering she spent the vast majority of her time standing on a platform watching three Pegasus hurtle around a small track, the two weeks between Vanhoover and Dodge Junction passed surprisingly quickly to Maffett.

In the few months since moving to Ponyville she’d gotten herself well acquainted to the place quite well. She knew quite a number of the population by name and had become a regular at Pinkie’s bi-weekly comedy nights. They were all very friendly and welcoming ponies and she was getting used to life in the town.

The only thing that bothered her was the occasional assumption she and Concorde were more than friends. They were best friends, unofficially siblings, but she couldn’t see him as anything else. They knew all there was to know about each other after knowing each other their entire lives, though Maffett did joke she enjoyed four months of peace before Concorde turned up.

Still, she’d rarely seen him work so hard that he hardly even cracked a smile. She’d seen him collapse from exhaustion and even in the depth of depression, but never working so hard he barely acknowledged anyone like Lightning Dust did. Even now as they waited at the Ponyville train station for their train to Dodge Junction, he was neck deep in notes when he’d usually be trying to calm his rampant nerves with a French comic.

“Has there been any update?” Fleetfoot asked one of the station staff as he passed. Their train had been delayed leaving Canterlot.

“The train to Dodge Junction should arrive in the next ten minutes.” He said, surprisingly chirpy considering he’d been harangued by Fleetfoot for the last half an hour before carrying on his way.

“I hate trains.” Fleet announced to no one in particular.

“Never would have guessed.” Dash remarked, which drew an irritated look from Fleetfoot that encouraged Dash to go back to her conversation with Applejack and Pinkie Pie, who were accompanying them.

Maffett dangled a magazine in front of Concorde to show him an advert for one of their favourite comedian’s new tour. Even that somehow didn’t seem to get his attention, so she figured it was time for her to get the big guns out as she checked to ensure no one was listening.

“You know, somepony told me there’s a squid living in Froggy Bottom Bog.” She stated before glancing at her friend. He returned a look that somehow seemed to combine not being amused, contempt and sheer fear at the idea of a squid being even vaguely nearby.

“I hate you.” He stated simply in response.

“I know you do, but you’re getting a bit lost in those notes.”

“I need to do something to get faster.”

“Point zero three of a second is the best those notes have done for you and Dash and Dust are still a hell of a lot faster than you in a straight line.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m just saying you need to look elsewhere and not knock yourself about so much over this. Don’t forget you set the fastest time in the first sector at Vanhoover in qualifying and that’s all long corners, so you’re still great somewhere.”

“I know, but I’m not going to win any races if I’m haemorrhaging speed down the straights.”

“I think you should do a bit more wing weight training, that’s more likely to do something for you, but even then I doubt you’ll ever be fastest in a straight line, so you may as well keep up with your main strengths.”

Concorde looked at Maffett for a moment before closing his note book and casting it in his bag.

“Alright, I’ll put it down if it makes you happy.”

“Oh I’m over joyed.”

“So when was Bailey coming to Ponyville?” He asked, referring to the advert Maffett had been trying to wave in his face.

“Three months.”

“In time for your birthday. I’m guessing you want me to get you tickets?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask but seeing as you’re offering.”

Concorde sighed and shook his head, smirking as he grabbed the magazine to see the ticket prices.

“Attention please;” Someone said over the tannoy “The ten twenty train to Dodge Junction is now arriving on Platform one.”

“About damn time.” Fleetfoot sighed, still annoyed as she and her team got their stuff together and headed for the platform in time to see the train pulling in, vaguely noticing the local train spotters at the end of the platform.

The team boarded the first class carriage, expecting to find it empty as few travelled first class in the direction they were going. However, it looked like they would be sharing the carriage as one pony was sat by the window reading a newspaper with the headline ‘Manehatten Vigilantes Bust Crime Boss’.

With no warning what so ever, Pinkie bounded past everyone up to the poor unfortunate reading the newspaper and practically squealed “Hi!” at them.

The pony leapt clean out of her seat, throwing the newspaper aside to reveal herself to be Mercedes, screeching “Was zum Teufel!” in response.

“Hi Mercedes!” Pinkie said chirpily, as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, it’s you, the Wonderhawks’ fan.”

“Plus the hawks.” Dash added.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here.” Mercedes said as she calmed down from the surprise.

“Aye, we live here.” Maffett added as she helped Concorde, Ratchett and Spanner stow their bags.

“I didn’t realize. It seems to be a nice place from what I could see as the train came in.”

“It’s the best town in the whole of Equestria.” Both Pinkie and Dash said in prideful unison, to the amusement of the others.

“Then I will have to visit when I have the opportunity.” Mercedes smiled.

“What are you even doing in Ponyville, anyway?” Fleetfoot found herself asking as Dust got on with her usual routine of weight lifting.

“I was just in Canterlot discussing the end of year video with the EBC.”

“The what?” Dash asked, looking at Concorde as he usually knew about the weird ins and outs of Cloud Racing.

“The EBC have a tradition of ending their final Cloud Race broadcast of the year with a music video inspired by the previous year’s champion.”

“Yes, precisely.” Mercedes smiled. “I wanted to do a video with all the racers and it is fortunate we have met her as I can ask you.” She added excitedly.

“Well, I rent them out for ten bob an hour.” Fleet smirked as the train started to pull out of the station.

“I know a Robert, would he be suitable?” Mercedes replied with a knowing smile.

“I don’t think we’d have the change for that.” Concorde remarked.

“What would you have them do?” Applejack asked, curious.

“It would just be dancing around and having fun. We might torment Nicki as well.”

“I’m in.” Concorde said almost instantly, everyone looking slightly surprised at how quickly he replied.

“I say might. He usually does not join in with these projects.”

“All the more reason to annoy that prat.” Concorde continued, his anger still quite clear.

“So where are you staying?” Mercedes asked after a moment, changing the subject.

“A friend of mine named Cherry Jubliee has offered use some rooms at her farm house.” Applejack answered.

“I’m actually surprised you don’t have any relatives there.”

“Oh I do, but Cherry offered first. I hope y’all like cherries because they won’t be in short supply.” Applejack said. Concorde gave her an amused sideways look that confused her. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Such filth, Corde.” Maffett laughed.

“She left the goal wide open, I just tapped it in.” Concorde chuckled. Applejack explosively sighed before heading off towards the buffet carriage with a giggling Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie.

***

The train journey to Dodge Junction took much of the day, the sun even setting over the horizon as the town came into view. Not far outside it they saw the track, a huge cloud structure reaching quite a distance into the sky with its twin interlocking loops in the middle. Many of the corners were long and ran into tight hairpins or chicanes, which would encourage a lot of overtaking, though most of the work would be in climbing the vertical track and controlling their decent.

“I hope the local weather controllers are better prepared this year.” Mercedes remarked before she went to get her suitcases.

“What do you mean?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“A dust storm came in during practice and blew the track away. By the time the storm was under control, there wasn’t time to repair the track and the event was cancelled.”

“Not the best debut.” Spanner remarked.

“Incredibly poor planning.” Ratchett added.

“Let’s hope we don’t have that problem, then.” Concorde injected as the train pulled into the station.

There weren’t many ponies on the platform at this time of evening, but even the mare in the middle of the platform would have stood out anywhere. She had cherry red curly mane that was partially stood up in a bee hive style and matching tail. Her body was a light tan colour and she wore a pink neck bow and yellow hair band.

As the team got off the train, led by Applejack, the mare trotted over to them.

“Applejack, it’s mighty good to see you again.” She said.

“Same to you too Cherry Jubilee.”

“I see these fine ponies are the dandy Wonderhawks you’ve told me all about.”

“They are. Want me to introduce them all to you.”

“Oh you don’t need to. You must be Concorde.” Cherry said, stepping up to Concorde with interest.

“I am, ma’am.”

“Why, you’re every bit as handsome as Applejack said.”

“You what?” Concorde said, taken aback. Dash, Dust, Maffett, Fleetfoot and Mercedes burst out laughing at his awkwardness, not noticing Applejack blush.

“Oh, you’re quite modest aren’t you? It’s rare to see such a fine young stallion.”

The Dash, Dust, Fleetfoot and Mercedes continued laughing as Concorde looked completely lost at what to say or do. Maffett, despite being highly amused, decided to go to his rescue.

“Miss Jubliee, Applejack’s told us a lot about you on the way.” She said, taking Cherry’s attention away from Concorde.

“Oh I imagine that didn’t take too long. But I think that’s enough standing around on a platform, let me take you to my house and get y’all settled. I’ll have the boys carry your luggage.”

“I will have to leave you all here as I am to meet my team at the Inn. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Mercedes said before hefting her suitcase and leaving.

As Cherry’s boys loaded the team’s gear into their carriage, Concorde tried to calm his embarrassment.

“I think you’re in, there.” Fleetfoot winked at him on her way past, not helping.

Concorde just sighed, not looking forwards to looking a complete fool.

Author's Note

The Dodge Junction track has a number of corners in common with Philip Island Circuit, used in Australia V8 Supercars, MotoGP and World Super Bikes.

ECRL Round 4: Dodge Junction - Practice

Rainbow Dash stood in her race suit and boots at the front door of the team’s stable the next morning, gazing up at the towering snake like cloud structure they’d be racing around. The track was wide enough, but almost every inch of it was surrounded by wispy clouds as a catch net to prevent flyers who fell off course from hitting any of the grand stands, some of which were made of more cloud while others were raised wooden platforms.

The beginning of the start straight was at ground level, the lowest point on the track, before ascending slightly to the end, where the first corner was. It was a long-ish right hoof, slightly descending corner that led into a long, ascending left hoof corner. After coming around a full one hundred and eighty degrees it straightened out for a moment before turning left again and heading into the first of the track’s loops. It was an angled horizontal loop that exited towards a sharp upwards corner.

The track continued to ascend at a gradually increasing incline which she’d have to barrel roll around to get on top of before getting towards the top of the track, where it flipped back on itself in a medium length corner that led down a short distance into another hairpin. This brought them back up again before turning left and down towards the second loop, this one vertical. The loop exited into a fast right hoof corner before entering the long last left hoof corner.

The last corner, which came onto the bottom of the start straight, had no run off and instead let you get as close to the ground as you dared. If anything went wrong, you’d get a face full of sand and likely a few injuries.

Still, the constant climbs and descents meant she couldn’t use a full speed. Even in the sublime physical condition Dash was in she’d exhaust herself pretty quickly on the climbs if she pushed too hard for too long, while she had no choice but to maintain total control of her descents in order to avoid crashing and staying within the rings around the track which dictated the track limits.

She looked over at her team mates, who were distracted by different things. Lightning Dust was reviewing a track map while Spanner talked her through it, though she likely wasn’t listening. Meanwhile, Concorde was seemingly in two minds over what goggles to wear, either with slightly tinted lenses or with fully darkened ones.

While they weren’t going to spend as much time as they could going straight up and nearly facing at the sun, it would still be advisable to take the darker option.

Almost the moment she’d made up her mind, a pair of dark goggles levitated in front of her with unicorn magic. After a moment of surprise she looked over to see Ratchett was stood beside her.

“Trust me, these are the ones you’ll want.” He stated.

“Thanks.” Dash smiled, taking the goggles and looking through them.

“Are you ready?” Ratchett asked, in his usual ‘no nonsense’ mind set when Dash was about to go out on track.

“Naturally. How long until practice starts?”

“Two minutes. Your helmet’s on the table so let’s get you kitted up and out there.”

***

Rainbow Dash, Concorde and Lightning Dust made it to the end of the pit lane in order to join the queue of racers ready to start practice. They could hear the currently small crowds whooping and cheering as they could see the racers prepare themselves, with a few hats tossed into the air from the grandstand on top of the stables, Riggwelter taking a moment to return one of the hats that landed near him.

Soon enough the green flag was waved and the racers flew out onto the track, joining it mid-way through turn two. Concorde was feeling confident about the track, even if his top speed hadn’t improved much. The sweeping corners, climbs and descents had a few things in common with his home track of Windy Valley.

Turning to fly up through the rising turn two wasn’t too dissimilar to flying up the valley, but it curved far more and forced him to roll around the snake like main track’. The short straight between turns two and three was just assay long enough to require Concorde to straighten up before heading into the first loop.

As he flew through it, he took a few moments to look around to see how much of a view he could get both behind and ahead. He couldn’t really see directly behind, but he could see who was two second or more behind him, which could potentially prove useful if he was being chased down or trying to escape someone.

It wasn’t long after exiting the loop that he encountered the hairpin bend that started the second ascent up the track. The track defining rings were quite tight now he was on it, trying to ensure the racers stayed close to the track but gave enough room between the track and the track limits to slip above and below opponents for overtakes. It would give plenty of overtaking options but make defending difficult.

As he exited the hairpin, going around a slow moving Aperto Jnr, he barrel rolled around the track to get on top of it before heading up the increasing incline towards the top of the track. It was a long climb, but staying this side of the track set him up for the top corner, which he flew on the underside of upside down. On the exit he barrel rolled around to his right again to get on top once more for the second hairpin. Again on the exit he barrel rolled around the track to get upside down underneath it as it curved back down, though he had to alter his position slightly as he entered the second loop to get the best line.

The downward loop was trickier then the horizontal one as he had to control his speed as he entered. If he took too much speed he’d end up hitting the track, but he needed to keep enough to do the loop fast enough as he felt his momentum taper towards the end of the loop, some two hundred and seventy degrees through it, on this first attempt.

The right hoof corner immediately upon the loop’s exit invited a lot of speed and, after losing so much Concorde was inclined to hurtle into the corner as fast as possible, but he realised early on he was taking too much speed and threw his wings out to slow down, moving to the side to avoid flying into the track as it turned away.

He looked over his shoulder as he headed back towards the racing line that led into the final turn, an equally inviting corner, and allowed the quicker flying Wildfire to pass him. He followed her through the corner, taking care in case she backed out from taking too much speed but they both got through without issue.

The actual cloud track disappeared as they reached the ground at the beginning of the start straight, starting again at the back of the grid before it steadily ascended to the first turn. The straight wasn’t long enough for supersonic speeds, but it was long enough to worry Concorde as they approached turn one, the sheer number of potential lines worrying him further as he rolled around to get on the inside of the track.

As he went through the corner, he realised just how quickly turn two came up and realized his positioning fully on the inside of turn one meant he had further to go to get to the inside of the much longer turn two. By the time he’d moved back into position Wildfire had already gained over a second on him, for what it was worth in practice.

He completed a few laps of the track, passing Wildfire on his third full lap as he was able to climb faster than her which put a bit of a smile on his face. He pulled into the pits entrance, midway through the final corner, and saw Maffett run over to the stable as he slowly glided in.

“Not too bad, you’re seventh.” She told him as he pulled his helmet and goggles off.

“Anything in particular standing out.” He asked.

“Not yet, you’re not doing anything massively different to anyone else.”

“What’s the gaps?” He asked, checking the timing screen at the back of the stable which Fleetfoot was watching.

“You’re only three tenths of the fastest time at the moment.” Maffett replied, though that became four tenths as Rossi put in a faster time.

“Looks like it’ll be close. Wildfire couldn’t keep up with my climbing speed so I might have more of a chance.”

“I told you you didn’t need to worry.”

“And I’m sure you’ll remind me at every opportunity.”

“Only when it’s really inconvenient.” She smiled.

Concorde considered a response, but his attention was grabbed when he noticed the fastest time for the third sector drop by nearly two seconds. He looked at it in surprise, before turning into shock at the fact it was Lightning Dust who set it. It put her fourth fastest overall but it likely meant her first and second sectors weren’t particularly great.

Without a word he, Maffett and Fleetfoot left the stable and stood on the pit wall next to Ratchett and Spanner, the team boss picking up a pair of binoculars to see what Dust was doing. They spotted her at the top of the track, taking an unnecessarily wide line into the hairpin before getting back on line on the way down.

They followed her through the second loop, thinking as she turned into the penultimate corner that she’d hit the track with the sheer amount of speed she was taking. They held their breath as she hurtled past the track, coming close to touching one of the track limit rings as she pulled up but staying just within before heading into the final corner.

As she finished her lap and disappeared through turn one, they overheard Spanner answered a question over the radio from her.

“You’re fastest.” He said simply. “But everyone in the pit lane was watching.”

Concorde looked around to see quite a number of the other racers had indeed been watching before heading back to their stables. Picking up on what others were doing to do a fast lap was essential in racing and it seemed Dust had just given everyone an early heads up as Concorde joined those getting ready to go back out on track.

***

At the end of the session Dust sat looking at her times, irritation sketched into her face. Ten minutes into the session she had been the fastest, but at the end of the session she was back down in fourteenth.

It had been an amazing feeling knowing something that no one else did, much like when she performed her secret signature move, but now everyone else knew it and were copying.

“Don’t look so annoyed.” Spanner offered. He was sat with her going over her times. “Your climb speed’s good, as is how you’re handling the long corners. You’re only a second down on the fastest time, which is a really impressive rate of improvement.”

Dust just sighed in response. With so many cloud structures around her it was difficult to keep track of exactly where she was on the track. More than once she’d found herself surprised to actually be in one of the loops while most of the long corners blended into each other without standing out. She wasn’t fond of the hairpins though, nor some of the downward corners.

“I think you might have gone a bit too soon with the wider line in turn eleven.” He stated.

“It was your idea.” Dust said hotly.

“I doubt me and Ratchett were the only ponies to realise. Somepony was bound to figure out that line at some point in first practice.”

“He knew too?”

“We worked it out together, though I don’t know if he told Rainbow yet.”

That was at least a silver lining of some sort, the fact she had beaten Dash. Concorde was still somewhere near the top of the table, but she’d wheel him in in time. Still, Dust wasn’t sure how to feel about Spanner colluding with Ratchett.

“Did you tell her?” Dust asked, indicating to Maffett.

“No, she doesn’t like us giving her advice even though she could use it. Bit like you, in that regard.”

Dust wasn’t amused by the sniped remark nor by being compared to anyone else. She found the Yorkshire mare to be annoying, her voice especially and being compared to her annoyed her further.

“Regardless Dust, you did well in that session. We’ll need to work on the hairpins, as well as your consistency, but I think you’ve got good pace and a good chance, possibly even for points.” Spanner offered as Dust got up and headed for the stable door to look out.

She had to admit as she gazed up, though not out loud, that she was actually quite enjoying this particular track. It actually required some form of athletic movement rather than just flying straight and banking occasionally. She wanted more than just miserly points, but maybe this was the track where things would start going to plan.

ECRL Round 4: Dodge Junction - Qualifying

Only a few months into her new role as manager of the Wonderhawks, Fleetfoot had come to know Concorde as someone who always had a cheeky response to any remark made against him, so she was finding his extreme awkwardness at Cherry Jubilee playfully fawning over him highly entertaining.

She had to admit that she was slightly worried, though. If anyone in her team was going to get the results that would make Money Bags back off and let Spitfire regain control of the Wonderbolts roster it was going to be Concorde, but the time at Cherry Jubilee’s house was potentially going to throw his focus.

Practice ahead of qualifying alleviated her concerns however as he put in the fifth fastest lap after a consistent run of seven laps, allowing Fleetfoot to worry more about the Academy graduates instead.

Rainbow Dash had done pretty much exactly as she and Spitfire expected, getting more confident in a close knit pack and constantly learning from those around her. In comparison, formation flying would be a breeze for her come the end of the season. Ratchett too was pleased with Dash’s improving performance and had noted that points weren’t off the table for her either, so long as she could improve her consistency and not get distracted

Lightning Dust on the other hoof was wasting her potential according to Spanner and Fleetfoot had to agree. She was certainly learning, but frequently putting her focus into the wrong aspects of racing and ignoring advice from Spanner. To his credit Spanner hadn’t given up and was hopefully of getting through to her, but Fleetfoot had a horrible feeling that it wouldn’t be long before she overstepped the mark.

But for now she had to focus on qualifying as much as her racers were as they went about their pre-qualifying routines, the academy graduates doing some last minute stretches while Concorde went for his usual ‘comfort break’, or whatever imaginative euphemism he opted for this weekend.

He returned just as Dash and Dust flew out of the stable to join the steadily lengthening queue at the end of the pit lane and hurriedly got his helmet, goggles and face guard on before chasing after them. Fleetfoot and Maffett then headed across the pit lane to their place on the wall, where Ratchett and Spanner were already seated.

Their section of the pit wall had a fairly simple wooden shelter over four seats and seven TV screens, two for each spotter with times and their racer’s front and rear facing helmet cameras, as well as a seventh that showed the main TV feed. Their section was open enough for them to look out onto the race track itself, unlike some of the more established teams who seemed to have hundreds of monitors and complicated switch setups. Ratchett had remarked upon how much more comfortable he was with fewer screens and a view of the track as it was easy to get overloaded with information and limited context.

Fleetfoot put her headset on just as race control declared the circuit ‘green’ and qualifying begun, the marshal at the end of the pit lane waving a green flag as the flyers headed onto the track to cheers from the crowd sat on the roof of the pit building and various cloud grandstands. She had to admit she was likely more nervous than her team as there wasn’t much she could do beyond observe for the next hour.

She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she did have a bit of a longing to join them. Being a Wonderbolt had always been Fleet’s dream but having spent a few years racing she’d come to love the moment to moment action that didn’t exist in performance flying. The Wonderbolts Derby was almost always the highlight of her year when she’d race the other Wonderbolts and certainly scratched her itch, but she wouldn’t argue with the chance to do more.

“Wind’s picking up.” Dash remarked over the team radio, Fleetfoot hearing everything her racers and their spotters were saying.

“Affirm,” Ratchett replied to confirm he understood. “Wind speed estimates haven’t changed, but I’ll let you know if they do.”

“Remember Dust, two build up laps and then two flying laps. You should be able to find half a second in the second sector, confirm?” Spanner asked Dust. It was the current plan for all three to start with to get them warmed up and get times on the board.

“I know.” Dust replied after a moment.

“Gone blind yet?” Maffett asked Concorde as Fleet watch her flyers climb to the top of the track.

“Why don’t you stare at the sun and tell me?” He flippantly replied, to Maffett’s amusement though Fleet didn’t approve of the pair starting their usual word battles now.

“Focus.” Fleet prompted Maffett, who just nodded in response.

After that the team went quiet as the three flyers did their warm up laps, bar the occasional warning of someone on a fast lap catching them. Fleet felt the butterflies in her stomach start to get excited and her hoof start to jiggle as Rainbow Dash came around to start her first fast lap.

Fleet got down off her stool and went to stand beside Ratchett so she could watch Dash’s forward facing camera. She was wide in the first two corners but she soon picked up her pace through the third and through the first loop. Her first split time after the next corner was solid, but not the best she’d done so far that weekend as Dash continued up to the top of the track.

Her skilled acrobatics helped her though the second section as she headed down, back up and down again into the second loop, her second split time being the fastest she’d set so far. Through the penultimate corner she nearly hit the lower end of the track limit ring before heading into the final corner too tight, but as an opening lap it wasn’t too bad.

Fleet moved down to sit next to Spanner and watch Lightning Dust’s second lap, which she was about to start. She had a better exit off the final corner and a better final sector to her first lap, but her previous first and second sectors had been fairly poor.

Dust hurtled into her next lap, quite clearly hustling as fast as she could as she always did. Heading through the first sector she was quicker then Dash on both her first and second laps as she chased her team mate, but as Dust approached the top of the track Fleet knew she’d lose out.

Despite being every bit as acrobatically skilled as Dash, Dust’s lack of patience kept resulting in her being in the wrong position on entry for each of the highest three corners on the track, resulting in her losing a lot of time to Dash that she couldn’t recover.

As Fleet started to head back to her own seat to watch Concorde’s lap, she noticed his camera feed showing him tumbling. She looked immediately out onto the track and saw him rolling end over end out of the penultimate corner, catching himself before he hit the ground and veering away from the track to get out of the way of anyone following.

“You ok, Corde?” Maffett asked.

“Aye. My own stupid fault, took too much speed in and hit the bottom of the ring.” He replied, relieving Fleet slightly that he wasn’t injured as she saw him pull into the pit entrance after ruining that lap and the start of his next one in the process. His first lap had at least been fairly solid but not quite up to his usual form.

***

Fleetfoot watched her team as they sat in their stable discussing their first two runs with their spotters. After crashing into one of the track edge rings, Concorde had gone out on his second run and set the Ninth fastest time while Dash and Dust were twelfth and thirteenth respectively.

There was plenty of room for improvement however, so Fleet was brain storming ways for them to improve their times as she watched the few flyers on track at that time. Wolke and Aperto Jnr of Fancypants Racing were flying together, about a second apart. Aperto was close enough to get a slipstream off Wolke without being held up and a quick glance at the timing screen as the two hurtled past the pit wall told Fleetfoot that the slipstream had given Aperto quite the speed boost. She watched as they went through the first two corners and saw they’d swapped positions so Wolke would get the speed boost on the next lap.

Fleet ran back over to her team’s stable, everyone looking up as she arrived.

“Right, I have an idea.” She stated simply.

“We’ve only got ten minutes left, I hope it’s not too complicated.” Spanner said.

“I’ve just seen Wolke and Aperto working together to give each other a slipstream. I want you guys to try it.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a good idea.” Ratchett replied, looking unconvinced. “That move’s meant to help along the following pony, but if the lead pony needs to keep up the same pace and any mistakes they make hamper the follower. Besides, it's not helping Aperto as he's a long way down the order.

“It’s worth a try. You guys have room to improve so I thought it’d be helpful and give you guys chance to work together on track. Any volunteers?”

“No.” Dust said simply, her bluntness taking the others by surprised as she went to get her helmet.

“Why’s that?”

“Because like Ratchett said, they’d just get in my way.”

“Full of yourself today, aren’t you?” Concorde remarked, but Dust ignored him while Fleetfoot made another negative mental note against Dust.

“Are you two ok to try this?” Fleet asked Dash and Concorde.

“Go on, then.” Concorde replied.

“Sure thing.” Dash smiled as she grabbed her own helmet.

Fleetfoot nodded before returning to the pit wall. Spanner, Maffett and then Ratchett joined her in short order as her team went out on track for their last set of runs.

“Right, Dash I want you to lead Concorde first. Then you switch around after one flying lap and Concorde leads Dash.”

“Got it.” Dash replied as she looked over her shoulder to ensure Concorde was behind her while Dust disappeared up the track. Fleet wasn’t sure how well this would work as Dash was, on average, seven tenths of a second slower then Concorde now, but she figured it was worth a shot to test how well they’d work together on track, which Dust had automatically failed before even leaving the stable.

Fleet’s nerves started to bubble up again and her leg jiggled as Dust came hurtling past to start her next fast lap. Not long after Dash and Concorde came past in close proximity, just over a second separating them as they went into the first corner. Concorde’s speed continued to be his main hindrance, but following Dash defiantly gave him a boost as he set his fastest first sector time.

“Calm down a bit Dash, you’re taking too much speed into corners.” Ratchett prompted Dash as she threatened to hit one of the track edge rings before heading into the first loop.

“I need to go fast so I don’t hold Corde up.” Dash pointed out, Concorde visibly closer to her as they headed for the top of the track.

“Just food for thought. You’re looking good though.” Ratchett added before turning his mic away from his mouth so he didn’t disturb her further.

Fleet’s leg continued to jiggle as the Wonderhawks pit wall watched on in silence. Dust was improving, with her lap taking her above Dash and into tenth. Dash and Concorde came around to elevate the pair of them to tenth, knocking Dust back down again, and seventh respectively.

“Good work.” Fleet said over the comms. “Dash and Corde, switch places.”

“Got it.” Dash and Concorde replied, soon swapping positions as they went into the first loop.

As they carried on on what would be a cooling lap, Fleet looked at Dust’s times to see she was going a bit quicker again. Her first sector was a hundredth of a second quicker while she matched her previous sector two time. Fleet watched as Dust rounded the last few corners, looking quite good and finishing her lap to be faster than Concorde’s previous best and putting her seventh with a very impressive final sector.

“Cool down for a lap, Dust. Then you’ll be on your last lap of the session.” Spanner informed Dust. It seemed she hadn’t listened as she continued to rocket around the lap, though she was a bit slower judging by her first sector.

Concorde and Dash came past not long after to start their next fast lap, Dash slightly further behind Concorde then he was on the previous attempt, but the speed boost from the slipstream saw her close in enough to almost hit him.

Fleetfoot hissed ‘careful’ to herself as she watched the pair hurtle through the first few corners and through the first loop. As they reached the corner after to flip over and head towards the highest part of the track, Dash seemed to misjudge her extra speed and went off the track, missing one of the track limit rings.

“Darn it!” She shouted over the radio.

“Corde, keep going!” Maffett prompted, though Fleet noticed him looking over his shoulder as he reached the top of the track. His lap wasn’t looking that great as it was compared to his usual performance so he’d have to put his effort into his next and final lap.

“Just go for it guys, forget about the plan.” Fleet told her team as she saw the clock count down towards the final minute.

“Last lap, last lap!” Each spotter confirmed to their flyers as they came around to start their final laps of qualifying as the clock counted down to zero. Once it did, the fliers on track would be allowed to finish the lap they were on but they couldn’t start another one.

Checking the current order, Fleet could already see her fliers had been demoted by faster times and she was hoping they could improve.

Dust’s first sector didn’t fill her with confidence as, while it was an improvement on her previous slow lap, it wasn’t better than her fastest. It wasn’t slowing her down as she went past a slowing Nicki Hest, who’d made a mistake in the first corner and abandoned his lap.

Concorde’s and then Dash’s first sectors were massive improvements on their best times so far, Concorde even being fourth fastest in the first sector. Several fliers ahead were slowing after finishing their runs, but they were at least getting out of the way.

Fleet watched Dust as she went through the second sector, her movement fast and smooth but still not generating the speed needed to improve her times. Her usual lack of patience or just her determination to show how good she was had hindered her again.

“What the f***’s he playing at?!” Concorde angrily exclaimed suddenly, Fleet’s focus shifting to roughly where he was. She could see he’d backed out of his lap after catching up with someone at the top of the track, but she couldn’t see who or why.

“What happened?” Fleet asked of Maffett, who looked annoyed as she rewound Concorde’s helmet camera footage.

“Hest cut across Concorde as he went over the heights corner.” She stated as she played the footage. As Concorde was heading towards the top of the track, Fleet saw he was catching up with a slow moving Hest. As Concorde went through the blind corner, Hest suddenly cut across the track infront of him, forcing her flyer to nearly stop to avoid a collision.

Fleet looked back to the track, hoping Concorde wasn’t trying to have a go at Hest after that block but it seemed Hest had already hurtled off down the track. Checking the time, Fleet saw that Concorde didn’t have enough time to get back around the track and start another lap.

“Call him in, there’s no time left.” Fleet stated with a sigh. Maffett did so as Fleet returned her focus to Dust and Dash. Dust still wasn’t improving while Dash was as the current grid order Fleetfoot was watching on her screen lit up with green and purple times to show those improving their times or even setting fastest times.

She watched Dust loop around the final corner and rocket up the straight as Concorde pulled into the pit entrance, setting a time two tenths faster then her best. It wasn't fast enough to improve her position, but it did solidify her current ninth place. Meanwhile, Dash was looking promising until the penultimate corner, where she could have taken somewhat more speed into it but she was lined up well for the final corner. She couldn’t quite beat Dust’s best time but she did elevate herself into tenth.

She noticed both Ratchett and Spanner continuing to scribble their notes before answering any questions, but Fleet was now watching her timing screen to see if her flyers could hold onto ninth, tenth and twelfth.

Blitzen and then Wolke shot across the line to demote all three of her flyers. Red Rum slipped between Dash and Concorde before Wildfire and Leciec came past to improve but not beat her team. Skyline came past next to split Dust and Dash before Dawn Wisp demoting Concorde again, now down to sixteenth as he stood in the stable. He looked very unhappy as he practically tore his helmet off while Maffett got up and went over to him.

Fleet leaned back on her stool, seeing the remaining times being set weren’t likely to knock her team down any further. Just as she was about to get up, she saw a red box appear on her timing screen, which meant the stewards were sending out a message.

‘Incident involving competitors 2 (HST) and 52 (CRD) to be investigated after the session – Impeding another competitor.’ the message stated. It gave Fleet mixed feelings as it was bound to result in Hest being demoted to the back of the grid and promoting her flyers, but she wasn’t looking forwards to trying to rein in a likely very angry Concorde.

Author's Note

Provisional Grid:
1: Zip Line
2: Jorge
3: Rossi
4: Wolke
5: Nicki Hest (Pending investigation)
6: Mercedes
7: Power Drive
8: Blitzen
9: Ekstrom
10: Typhoon
11: Lightning Dust
12: Skyline
13: Rainbow Dash
14: Dawn Wisp
15: Red Rum
16: Concorde (Pending investigation)
17: Aperto Jnr
18: Wildfire
19: Auroras Encore
20: Velocidade
21: Leciec
22: Quick Silver
23: Lotus Stream
24: Riggwelter

Recruitment

Rainbow Dash was nervous, possibly more nervous than she had ever been in her whole life. She remembered when she competed in the Best Young Flyers competition in Cloudsdale some years ago, how she had been reduced to a shivering wreck at the thought of failing miserably in front of her life long idols the Wonderbolts. But now, on a snowy winters evening in Canterlot, she was waiting for some of those very ponies.

Rainbow Dash looked down at her half empty cup of now cold coffee. She had been sat in this café with Rarity and Pinkie Pie before inspiration drew the former away and a bright, quick moving light drew away the latter. That was ten minutes ago as Dash consulted her watch, wondering if the Wonderbolt were intentionally late to see if she did fall apart again.

“Rainbow.” Came a voice from behind her that caused her to jump. Rainbow spun around, knocking her chair over as she saw the flaming mane and body of Spitfire stood there, looking vaguely amused.

“Ma’am!” Dash quickly saluted, stood fully to attention. Every pony in the café looked over to see what was going on and Dash blushed slightly.

“At ease, cadet.” Spitfire smiled. Rainbow Dash did so, quickly picking up her chair and sitting down, acting as if nothing had happened. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Fleetfoot’s a nightmare some times.”

Dash looked around before asking. “Where is she?”

“Coming, I hope. Just watch out for some pony wrapped up thicker than a Fluffy Pony seeing as she’s a wuss when it comes to cold weather.” Spit said, quickly glancing out of the window.

A fresh flurry of snow was falling in the street outside as ponies, wrapped up warm, hurried back and forth as they prepared for Health Warming. Before receiving a letter from Spitfire asking her to meet her in this café, Rainbow Dash and her friends had just come up from Ponyville to visit Twilight Sparkle.

“Er, would you like a coffee, ma’am?” Rainbow suddenly asked.

“Actually some tea would be nice, thank you.” Spit smiled. Almost as if he was waiting for that very line, a waiter placed a pot of tea, cups, milk and sugar on the table and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. While Dash digested the sudden appearance of the tea, Spit poured her own out and added milk and sugar. Dash went to take a sip of her coffee before realizing it was stone cold. While no one was watching, she emptied the cup into a nearby plant pot.

“So tell me, cadet,” Spit started as Rainbow quickly returned the cup to the table and tried to look innocent. “You didn't tell me at the time, but how did you find your time at the academy?”

Dash thought for a moment before answering. She couldn't help but suspect the question was loaded, so she let the first and vaguest answer she could think of out of her lips.

“I enjoyed it, ma’am.”

“You know what; you may as well just call me Spit. Never did like being referred to as ma’am.”

“Er, of course ma- er, Spit.”

“Anyway,” Spit started, pausing for a moment to take a quick sip of her tea. “you certainly did look like you were enjoying yourself, but you weren't perfect.”

Dash froze solid at the criticism, her mind flooding with exclamation and question marks at the sound of her idol telling she may not be good enough.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, Rainbow. I think you’re one of the most naturally talented fliers I've ever seen, but you’re terrible in formation.”

“Er, how so?”

“Well, I noticed that if you were in any position other than lead that you’d drift side to side and you spent most of your time actively watching your team mates.”

“Er, well… erm…” Dash started, trying to think of a defence. While it didn't sound like she was, Spit was outlining Dash’s faults and they may well be faults big enough to ensure she wouldn't get a spot on the team, she thought.

“However, I believe I know how to ‘cure’ that, so to speak.” Spit smiled warmly. “Ah, Echo, glad you could make it this side of the Summer.”

Dash looked over her shoulder to see Echo Fleetfoot, another of her Wonderbolt idols, coming towards them wearing what looked like five thick coats and hats. With so much on, she was having difficulty navigating her way between tables and apologised to an old couple when she knocked their drinks off the table.

“Sorry I'm late.” She smiled once she’s finally gotten to the table after paying for new drinks for the old couple.

“Only ten minutes late. You’re getting better at least.” Spit smiled.

“Have you told her anything?”

“No, didn't want to steal your thunder.”

Rainbow Dash wondered what they were intending to tell her, slightly worried they’d say she wasn't ready for the Wonderbolts as Fleetfoot disassembled herself from her huge number of coats.

“Blue over pink over purple?” Spitfire randomly injected. “What sort of fashion disaster are you?”

“Not as much as a disaster as that peach-” Fleetfoot started before Spit cut her off so fast she nearly created a sonic boom.

“Do you want another drink Dash?”

“Er, I'm fine, thank you.” Dash shrugged with an awkward grin.

“Right, well, if you’re ready Echo?”

“I am.” She smiled, sitting the last of her coats on the floor which revealed she had a saddle bag on underneath. She sat down and regarded Dash for a moment. “She was wearing this peach dress with pink-”

“The league, Echo.” Spit said forcefully, causing Echo to laugh. Dash just frowned in confusion.

“Yes, well, I'm sure Spit told you what she thought of your group flying skills?”

“She did.” Dash replied, trying to keep her expression neutral as she felt she was in some sort of interview from tartarus.

“Well, don’t feel so bad, I heard much the same thing when I first went through the academy, though at the time it was more along the lines of ‘you’re useless’. So, in order to improve myself, I spent a couple years in this.”

Fleetfoot reached into her saddle bag for something, but Rainbow Dash already knew what she was going to say. Dash had read the whole history of the Wonderbolts, especially the current team and as the poster was slapped down on the table in front of her she knew exactly what they were going to suggest.

“The Equestrian Cloud Racing League?”

“The Equestrian Cloud Racing League. I learnt more about precision flying in one year there than I ever could from a lousy teacher like Spit.” Echo smiled.

“I’ll remember that next time you ask for a pay raise.” Spit replied before turning to Dash. “We’re planning on a joint venture with another flight team and we’d like you to be the second member of the team.”

Dash absorbed what they were asking her to do. They wanted her to race in the most prestigious, expensive and pompous competition in the world, something she’d always avoided doing. Professional racing never appealed to her, but she knew they were right about the requirement for precision flying and sometimes being thrown in at the deepest end one can find was a good way of learning.

“Wait,” Dash suddenly realised. “second team member?”

“Of three, yes. I won’t spoil the surprise by telling you who they are but you will be familiar with at least one of them. If you’re interested, then I want you to meet them tomorrow at ten AM in hanger number 15 on the Canterlot Air Field. That’s if you’re in, of course.”

Rainbow Dash thought for a moment as the two Wonderbolts observed her. She pictured herself stood on the starting grid on the pole position and disappearing into the lead, the pursuing, self-obsessed ponies gawping in awe of her speed and grace and later standing on the podium with a giant trophy before the Wonderbolts descended and gave her the bumps. She smiled at the image of doing poses as the team threw her up into the air and her mind was made up.

“I'm so in.” Dash said simply.

Plenty of Practice

Rules, rules, rules, rules rules. Why were their so many freaking rules, Lightning Dust couldn’t help but wonder. Flying around in large, ornate circles shouldn’t be this complicated or celebrated so much.

When Spitfire had invited Lightning Dust to Canterlot to discuss the idea of racing, Dust couldn’t help but feel it would be a wasted year. Spit obviously thought she was fantastic and fantastic flyers flew in the Wonderbolts so why Spit thought she needed to throw herself into what was an entirely different kind of flying evaded her completely.

After training and ‘studying’ for two months, she still hadn’t fully gotten her head around why there were so many flags and why there were so many different meanings for each one, what they were doing and how many there were. Was there really an honest difference between one and two waved yellow flags? The blue flags still sounded like an implied insult, meaning ‘get out of the way, fast guys coming through’.

She hadn’t spent an enormous amount of time with her teammates. Rainbow Dash she already knew, the self-righteous Pegasus unwilling to do what it took to win while Concorde was just odd. To her, he was arrogant, more French then British as he considered himself, but it seemed few other ponies saw that. Whether he was serious or not seemed to hinge on the flip of a coin, one moment laughing and telling weird jokes while the next he could seemingly be so focused you’d need to hit him to get his attention. He was quick on his wings, she gave him that, but he was physically weaker than she was, usually not carrying as much in the way of weights when they went hiking for fitness purposes and the one time he’d suggested hoof wrestling, she’d thrown him off his chair with ease.

Usually when they weren’t training, Dust would go back to her room to continue weight training. The best never stopped and while the others laughed and joked, she would continue to get better and achieve her dream of being the best Wonderbolt ever, just like her grandfather.

***

The three racers readied themselves ahead of their latest practice session on a small track they’d built themselves next to Sweet Apple Acres. Fleet was having the three of them take turns flying in each other’s high speed wake ahead of Cloudsdale, which featured a long fast section called the Morning Glory. This part of the track would be the longest section of full speed track they would race on, roughly two thirds of it being at supersonic speeds and staying in a straight line in the wake of twenty three other supersonic ponies would be incredibly difficult.

Dash knew there were other supersonic Pegasus around but she rarely gave them much thought. After a quick bit of research thanks to Twilight, she knew none of the other racers could fly as fast as she could in a straight line, but after Concorde showed them up in Canterlot and throughout their practice on their test track, she now knew that wasn’t much to boast about in a racing context.

Their little track was set up well away from Ponyville, a basic oval track which they were using, with four hairpins that made up an optional infield track which she, Cloudchaser and Flitter had constructed. Concorde had offered to help before he nearly created a torrential storm that would have flooded Sweet Apple Acres and agreed to sit quietly on the platform, which had been erected next to what was the start finish line for Ratchett, Spanner and Maffett to stand on and relay information to their fliers.

“We ready, kids?” Fleet asked, hovering above the platform. Each flyer’s helmet was equipped with a radio and camera so their spotters could see what they could and talk to them. Fleet had an override command so she could talk to all three at once.

“Ready.” Dash replied simply, crouching down on her front legs and stretching her back to try and get her suit comfortable. While Rarity spent the last month working on their actual race suits, the three flyers wore simple white spare suits, helmets and boots. Dash couldn’t stand the mouth guard, but after Concorde’s story of breaking his jaw against a grand stand in a club race she’d opted to put her own feelings about the thing aside.

“Right, we’ll be using the oval for now and I want you to set off and get in line, Dust in front, Concorde in the middle and Dash at the back.” Fleet said. As prompted, Dust took off, followed by Concorde and then Dash, the three gliding around the track as they spent some time warming up.

Fleet had drilled the need to warm up properly into all three of them, having them do a few laps weaving back and forth, speeding up and rapidly slowing down or doing slow, steady raises until they came to a halt and then doing a sharp, quick decent to get their wings and body properly prepared.

The three of them did this, staying in order with a few seconds gap between each other so they didn’t collide. Dust and Concorde had already found themselves stuck in a tree when Dust failed to react to Concorde’s sudden slowing during a warm up.

“Radio check, Dash.” Ratchett said. He could only speak with or hear Dash, so there wasn’t any concern about overhearing anything.

“Check.” Dash replied.

“Good, good. I’m going to use the board for this run.” He said back. In the event of a radio failure, a board was commonly held out over the start line with lap number, position and time gaps to those ahead and behind and being able to understand it at speed was important.

“On the next lap,” Fleet cut in. “I want the three of you to close within a second and start picking up speed. Dust will dictate the pace.”

The whole concept of a time based gap was still a slightly alien idea to Dash, but she closed in on Concorde as he in turn closed in on Dust. As they came around the third and fourth corners, Dust started picking up speed and the two following her chased after.

Until they started practising, Dash had never really found herself in a position where she was following another Pegasus at speed. As the three picked up speed, she could feel the air she was flying through become inconsistent, offering limited resistance while also effectively waving up and down and side to side, causing Dash to shake around like crazy. In theory she could glide quicker in such air, but she had less to use to propel or direct herself

As their speed increased, it became increasingly difficult to see clearly, her eyes getting shaken around so much everything became a blur. She could still make out Concorde and Dust ahead and when they turned, but any particular details simply couldn’t be worked out, especially if it was off to the side of the track. Each time they passed the start finish line, Dash would glance over to the platform to try and see her board as Ratchett held it up, but she could barely make out what it said.

The laps wore on, Fleetfoot occasionally telling them how fast they were going. Dash was admittedly getting bored, the site of Concorde’s hind and tail not exactly filling her with enthusiasm. She started wondering what the new Daring Doo book was going to be called before she realized Concorde wasn’t ahead of her anymore.

She quickly slowed, looking over her shoulder and realizing she had missed the turn. She quickly got herself back on track and flapped her wings as hard as she could to catch back up, which proved fruitless.

“What happened, Dash?” Fleetfoot ask.

“Sorry, sorry! I made a mistake!” Dash quickly replied, still trying to catch back up.

“We’ll check the replay later.” Fleet sighed, before sounding serious again. “When I wave the green flag, I want the three of you to go as fast as you can, using the infield track for twenty laps. You can race if you like, it’s up to you.”

“Got it. Are you still going to use the board, Ratchett?” Dash asked her spotter, but he didn’t respond. She assumed his silence meant ‘yes’.

Concorde was well ahead of Dash now, though he did take the time to look over his shoulder to see where she was as they started a new lap, the three conserving their energy before pushing. As they exited the second corner, Dash looked for her marker points to figure out when to slow and turn into the right hand hairpin that went into the infield, followed by a left hand hair pin, a short straight and into two more hairpins, left then right, that put them back onto the back straight of the oval again. The left to right and vice versa change of direction were one of the few things she could get right, but Concorde was still somehow able to maintain more speed. Now she was behind him, maybe she could get a good video of how he did it and review it later.

Fleet waited for the flyers to complete a few laps before waving the flag as they went by. Despite her best efforts, Concorde pulled away and even passed Dust by the time they’d finish two laps, though at least now Dash was out of their turbulent air she could see her pit board more clearly.

After another three laps, Fleet held out a different flag as Dash crossed the line. It had yellow and red wavy stripes on it and after a moment to remember, Dash realized it meant there was strong wind. Flying in strong wind was incredibly dangerous if not done correctly, Dash remembering everything they had to do to get the content of the reservoir to Cloudsdale the year before.

Dash braced herself, not knowing when she might encounter the wind when it suddenly hit her with its full force. It was over almost as soon as it had arrived as she finished the corner and looked to see if she had gained on Dust yet, before noticing a surprising lack of other racers on track. She looked around and sure enough, no one else was there.

As she flew past the spotter’s platform, she afforded herself a moment to look down and saw Dust jumping back into the air while Concorde was being recovered from a bush by Cloudchaser and Flitter.

The remaining laps passed without anything of interest happening, Fleet eventually waving the chequered flag to bring an end to the morning’s practice. After cooling down for a few laps, allowing herself to glide and remind her limbs they can be directed anywhere other than forwards and back. Once done, she landed on the spotter’s platform.

“Not bad, Dash.” Ratchett remarked as he helped her get her helmet off. “You were three seconds faster on that run.”

“Awesome.” Dash smiled. She hadn’t felt like she’d been going any faster, but at least felt less exhausted then last time.

Dust landed next to Dash, sounding annoyed as she sighed and took her helmet off. Concorde was already back on the platform, his helmet plugged into a laptop computer that was showing footage from his camera which, for reasons she’d yet to work out, was pointing backwards.

He looked intently focused as Dash noticed a familiar purple mane poking over the edge of the platform. She went over to investigate, drawing Maffett’s and Ratchett’s attention before she found Scootaloo clinging to one of the poles holding up the platform, flapping her little wings like crazy to stop herself falling.

“What are you doing, squirt?” Dash chuckled.

“Rainbow Dash!” Someone shouted, making Dash realize Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were stood on the ground looking up.

“We have a message!” Applebloom called, bouncing up and down.

“Hey, I just climbed up here to tell them!” Scooterloo shouted back, annoyed. The fillies on the ground didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

“My sister wants to see you; she’s finished your racing costumes!” Sweetie Belle cheered before excitedly looking at her flank.

“I said I’d tell them!” Scooterloo shouted again angrily, though Sweetie Belle again didn’t hear, instead looking downhearted she hadn’t turned out to be a messenger.

“You having fun there, lass?” Maffett asked, having come over to see what Dash was looking at.

“No!” Scooterloo replied, looking around awkwardly before asking: “Could you help me down?”

“Well, if you three and Maffett go and see her, we’ll pack up her and meet you back at the house.” Fleet said, giving Concorde a nudge to bring him out of his focused trance.

“Sure.” Maffett said, looking like she was suddenly in charge. “Just don’t let those two near the cooker again. They nearly burnt the house down last time.”

“I’m still impressed by that.” Concorde remarked. “You managed to screw up a meal from a book written for idiots like me.”

“It was written for you by your mum, mind.”

“Which is why it’s written for idiots.”

“I’ll keep them away from it.” Fleet smiled, rolling her assortment of flags back up. “Get going.”

***

The four ponies approached the Carousel Boutique, usually described as the most fabulous building in the entire town.

“Why do I feel oddly out of place?” Concorde remarked.

“Is your masculinity being threatened, Corde?” Maffet asked.

“He’s half French, surely he doesn’t have any.” Dust remarked.

“Oh la la, mon ami.” Concorde said in a mock French accent. “C'est pourquoi je bois du thé.”

“Meaning?” Dust inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“That is why I drink tea.” He translated. “Top up the testosterone, you know?”

Dash ignored them as she knocked on the door. Rarity had put a closed sign in the window so she wasn’t disturbed in her creativity, though she had to admit it wasn’t usual for her to take this long over something. Seeing as it was thick material designed to protect rather than look good, she might have had to relearn a few things and a Rarity with a challenge was not something to disturb.

Rarity pulled back one of the curtains to look out at the four.

"Five minutes!" She shouted before closing the curtain. The four of them wondered aloud what she was doing before the door was opened.

“Come in, come in!” Rarity welcomed, leaving the door open for them as she trotted over to three ponikins with sheets thrown over them. The four walked in, Concorde knocking the door shut as he let the others go in first.

Rarity seemed to had been to readjust her mane, likely not being as concerned as normal about it from working so hard. She still had her glasses on and a tape measure around her neck as the three flyers lined up to see what she would reveal.

“The three of you are no doubt sick of those awfully bland white suits you’ve been using for your training so I won’t keep you on tenterhooks over what your race suits will look like.” She said, grabbing the sheets with her magic.

She pulled them off the three suits at the same time. Dash had seen Rarity’s brilliances before and while she hadn’t known how Rarity would fare working on something like this, she was actually really impressed.

The suits shared the same basic design, though in different colours. A lightning streak ran down each side of the suits, starting at the front hooves, running up the legs, along the sides of the body, bulged slightly when it reached the flank so their race number would fit within it and back down the back legs.

Concorde’s suit was scarlet red with a white lightning streak, his number Fifty Two outlined in ruby red while the inside was scarlet. Lightning Dust’s and Rainbow Dash’s suits were the same Wonderbolts blue, but Dust had a golden lightning streak while Dash’s was multi-coloured, matching their respective manes. Their numbers were both yellow with sapphire blue outlines.

Rarity looked at the three racers with a pleased smile on her face, waiting for them to vocalise their awe.

“That’s brilliant!” Concorde smiled.

“It’s awesome!” Dash commented.

“It’s pretty good.” Dust shrugged, uncertain what all the fuss was about.

There was a lengthy pause, as if Rarity was waiting for more praise.

“Where’s my old helmet, out of curiosity?” Concorde asked eventually, looking around. He had been reluctant to let Rarity borrow it but Maffett had suggested it as a possible idea before stealing it from his room. He was very protective of some of the junk in his room, even if he never kept it tidy.

“Oh, Concorde!” Rarity suddenly exclaimed, looking giddy. “That old helmet was so absolutely perfect! I threw out so many designs before I just looked at it and it hit me! It just works! Simple, bold and so striking, I should have seen it sooner.” As she spoke, Rarity seemed to move closer and closer, quicker and quicker, to Concorde, who started backing away when she threatened to have his eye out with her horn. “Darling, your helmet provided the basis for suit’s design!” She eventually finished. Concorde looked completely dumbfounded and uncertain what to do.

“Erm, thanks?” He eventually offered. Rarity just chuckled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before trotting off towards some boxes stacked by the counter.

“That’s not all, I couldn’t stop with just the suits. Some of the images I found in a Cloud Racing history book Twilight was kind enough to let me borrow showed ponies regularly raced with helmets that clashed awfully with their suits.” She said, looking almost sick of the idea of horrible colour clashes. “I absolutely had to make sure your helmets suited your suits and here they are!”

Rarity levitated a box over to each flyer and placed it in front of them. Dash opened the box and pulled a sparkling new helmet out the padded box. It was the same Wonderbolts blue with two multi-coloured lightning streaks like her suit.

“When I finalized the design, I had to send away for those unfortunately. I don’t have the tools to do helmets.” She said, sounding slightly disappointed. “But I was able to guide the young stallion who painted them.”

“Oh, I also made opening ball suits and dresses for you all.” She quickly added, rushing over to a series of ponikins sat away from the race suits. The flyers hadn’t paid them any notice a moment earlier but now it seemed she was going a step further then just making them race suits.

Dash almost thought she was looking at the dress Rarity had previously made her for the royal wedding, but closer inspection made her realize it was closer to a combination of that dress and her Gala dress with a rejigged laurel reef, brooch and wispy, flowing rainbow that made up the main body of the dress with a cloud like trim. What appeared to be Dust’s dress was similar to Dash’s, only in the appropriate colours with slightly sharper details.

Dash had never wondered if Rarity could make stallion clothing, but judging from the jet black tail coat with jet and ruby buttons, white shirt and scarlet puff tie, she had to admit she was pretty good at that too.

“That is pretty freaking awesome.” Concorde remarked, inspecting one of the buttons on the tail coat.

“Simple, bold and striking.” Rarity smiled, glad he approved.

“Simple’s right when describing Corde.” Maffett remarked, though he ignored her.

“Can I ask Concorde,” Rarity started, gaining Concorde’s attention. “Do your spotters attend the opening ball as well?”

“Aye. Spotters and sponsors.”

“Oh, darling!” Rarity practically squealed with delight, taking them all by surprise, not least of all Concorde as she grabbed his head and stared into his eyes. “I absolutely insist I go with you!” She said, releasing him before continuing which gave Concorde an opportunity to back away again. “We will be the bell of the ball! Oh, and darling,” she said, quickly going over to Maffett and starting to rapidly measure her. “You’ll need a dress as well. Something that brings out the colour in your eyes with a trim to match your hair. Yes, yes, I’ve got it!”

With that, Rarity zipped off into the next room to her other design desk, leaving Maffett looking like she’d been violated and Concorde looking around for a possible swift exit. Dash couldn’t help but laugh at their expressions.

Good Thing it’s only Practice

Concorde approached the hair pin on their newly reconfigured practice track, sighting his slowing point before getting to it. Before he started slowing, he shifted his focus to the apex of the corner.

He threw his wings and fore legs out wide to create a powerful air brake to slow him enough for the corner, snap rolling into it just before he was in line with the apex and propelling himself through. The late entry approach to the corner was good for fast laps, but in racing conditions made him extremely vulnerable to attack.

He accelerated as fast as he could, noticing the rest of his team stood on their observation platform and watching him go by, Maffett holding up a board with ‘L1’ on it to tell him he on the last lap of his ten lap run.

He was simply flying to find the line around the track, which Fleetfoot felt worked better for Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust to learn from as supposed to just sending them out and getting in Concorde’s way.

Now he was on his last lap, he was going to put in his fastest lap. He put his left foreleg out as he entered the long corner, banking over and gliding slightly in, starting wide and drifting in towards the apex. As he approached it, he put his leg straight again and started to flap his wings, still banked over as he pressed for a fast exit. He drifted out towards the cloud barrier to show the edge of the track, glancing it with the tip of his wing as he rocketed down the back straight towards the hairpin.

As with before, he slowed as late as he could and turned in late to give himself as much room to accelerate as possible, quickly coming up to speed before the start/finish line where the chequered flag was being held out by Fleetfoot.

He glided around the track for another lap to cool down before landing on the platform in front of his team.

“How was that?” Fleet asked the second he landed.

“Felt good. Plenty of lines through the long corner.” He replied as he went to undo his helmet strap.

“Don’t take it off.” Fleet said, holding up a hoof. “All three of you are going on track in a second.”

“Don’t want to hear more from me or let me rest?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Nope. Think of it as a challenge.” Fleet replied simply with a smile before turning to Dash and Dust. “You two get your helmets on, you’re going to have a short race. Twenty laps, I think.”

“Start them side by side?” Spanner inquired.

“Yeah. Dash, Dust, Concorde from left to right.”

“Let’s practice radio silence.” Maffett said to her friend as she arranged a few things on the board she was still holding.

“Bet you’re enjoying me being quiet.” Concorde randomly replied.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She smiled before turning off her radio.

“Come on, my little ponies!” Fleet said loudly to make sure she had their attention. “Get yourselves lined up.”

Once Dash and Dust were ready, the three of them did as they were told and stood on the strip of cloud that had been set up as a starting line.

After making sure his helmet was still secure, he stood ready as Fleet held up a green flag and quickly waved it to start them off.

Concorde pushed off, his hooves slipping slightly on the strip of cloud and not providing as much thrust as he would have hoped for before flapping his wings. Glancing over at his team mates, he saw Dust had the same problem he had while Dash seemingly didn't have a problem at all as she out dragged him and got into the long corner ahead of him, Dust following in behind.

While still recovering a little bit from his solo run around the track, he followed Dash for several laps. Dash had certainly gotten better, having worked out the techniques needed to slow and accelerate but she still didn’t quite have the speed around the entire track. He could still slow later and turn faster, but she was far faster on straights.

She was taking the tight early, wide on exit approach to the long corner, which kept putting him in a position where he had to hold back at the apex to avoid flying into her, thus wrecking any momentum he could take into the hair pin to overtake.

Going into the long corner again, Concorde opted to follow Dash rather than take his own line, which proved equally frustrating as he couldn’t push as hard as he waited for her to pick up speed.

Even after following her exactly, he couldn’t accelerate enough to get alongside her and by the half-way point of the straight she was pulling away just enough to make an overtake into the hairpin unnecessarily risky.

A thought occurred to him; was that what EJ meant when he said he was too conservative? He was faster than Dash, but he’d just evaluated a possible overtake as ‘unnecessarily risky’.

He never dived into overtakes that could leave an opponent in a position to crash, that just wasn’t his style. Some of the greats of the recent past did intentionally put themselves in a position where, if the one they were overtaking didn’t react and move aside, they would crash.

That being said, he was no stranger to outlandish overtakes. His home track of Windy Valley was perfect for unusual overtakes around the outside of long corners and he’d pulled off a few moves himself. Perhaps it was because he was so comfortable with that track he was able to pull the moves off, but surely he could imitate such feats elsewhere as well?

To pull off such a move, he needed to know as much about his opponent as possible. He needed to know he could trust them either to see him or not do anything silly, something that normally came with experience but also came with intuition. Dash was certainly intuitive, judging from how fast she'd picked up racing techniques, but he wasn’t sure if she was intuitive enough to know what he was about to try.

Dash’s line would allow him to get alongside her in the first half of the long corner and he likely was fast enough mid way through to draw alongside and pin her to the inside out of the corner, possibly allowing him to be just far enough ahead to keep him in position to finish the overtake into the hairpin.

It was risky. If she didn’t realize he was there they could end up crashing, but it was worth a try he concluded. It was practice, after all.

As they went into the corner, Dash taking her usual line, hugging the inside of the corner as they entered. Concorde went slightly wider on his original line, carrying more speed into the corner and pushing hard to get alongside her. As with her last couple laps, she started drifting wide after the half-way point of the corner as she pushed for an exit and Concorde started to drift with her so they didn’t collide. He pushed a bit harder to try and get out ahead, but as the cloud barrier approached, he realized it wasn't going to happen.

He tried to throw his wings out to slow and let Dash go on ahead, but he couldn’t slow quick enough and Dash drifted into him, causing her to spear into the barrier and taking him with her.

Concorde tumbled through the cloud before falling out the other side and landing on what was surprisingly soft ground. He paused for a moment, wondering if he was hurt before rolling onto his hooves and seeing he’d landed on Rainbow Dash.

“You okay there Dash?” he asked, slightly embarrassed.

“What were you doing?” She asked hotly, sitting up as Fleetfoot flew over.

“That was idiotic, Concorde.” She stated as he got up.

“It was rather dopey, aye. Sorry about that.” He said to Dash as he helped her up. “Was having trouble getting past so thought I’d try something.”

“That was definitely a something.” Dash commented as she rubbed her side. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

“I was trying to go all the way round the outside of you on the long corner.”

“Well, that’s as good as maybe,” Fleet sighed. “But Dust is on the verge of putting you two a lap down so get back up there.”

***

Concorde evaluated the attempted move as they continued their practice race. Saying it looked good on paper was pointless as it just looked crazy from any direction.

It was entirely possible it could have worked, but there were two significant things lacking. Dash’s awareness was part of the problem, she wasn’t aware of his presence but seeing as they quickly had to get back on track he hadn’t had the chance to find out if she was at least aware he was following her, but there was very little chance of her being completely unaware of him being there.

Most of all was the fact he simply hadn’t gotten far enough alongside. He wasn’t sure if it was simple hesitation from being unsure or just not being quick enough to get alongside. Perhaps he needed to adjudge his line for next time or maybe consider a switchback move instead.

The practice race eventually came to an end. Fleet looked reasonably pleased as her flyers landed on the platform after thier cool down laps and took their helmets off. The exhaustion and rivers of sweat from their pre-season practice was a thing of the past and all three looked reasonably exerted yet raring to go again.

“Much better.” She smiled, looking at Dust and Dash. “Concorde still had the fastest lap but only by a quarter of a second.”

“Not too bad, considering he took me out of the air.” Dash said, shooting a look at Concorde.

“Again, I’m sorry.” He replied. “Did you know I was behind you?”

“Yeah, but not there. I was on radio silence.”

That would explain part of why she wasn’t aware he was on the outside. Her focus would have been away from him so there was an absolute minimal chance she could see him and if Ratchett wasn’t telling her, she definitely wouldn’t know he was on her outside.

“You’ve got a fan club, by the way.” Fleet smiled, pointed to something in the trees. The three racers looked over to see what looked like all the foals in the town, along with a few grownups. They all seemed to have home-made signs and baseball caps supporting the Wonderhawks team, with a few for the individual flyers.

Concorde was somewhat taken aback. He knew he’d end up with fans if he did get into the league, but he honestly didn’t know what to do with them. Dash and Dust, however, looked rather pleased before gliding down to see them.

Following their lead was probably a good idea rather than standing like a pumpkin on the platform, so he glided down after them as the foals started to surround the two mares once they’d landed, begging for autographs and pictures.

The same awaited him as he landed, the foals surrounding him wearing scarlet baseball caps with a white fifty two sown onto the front. He really wasn’t sure what to say, he was somewhat blown away by the idea someone would actually make such a thing with his racing number on it, though an image flashed through his mind of whoever it was in Wonderbolts merchandising department who Spitfire had talked into making Wonderhawks stuff was likely very annoyed, which amused him no end.

“Can you sign my baseball cap, please sir?” One of the foals asked, his politeness taking Concorde even further by surprise.

“I need a pen.” Concorde realised after a moment, before calling to Dash as she seemed to already have one. “Can I borrow a pen or something?

“Come on, Concorde, aren’t you prepared for this?” Dash called over with a laugh after signing a Wonderbolts poster. She looked like she was in her element, as did Dust as she signed a baseball cap. Dust was also looking extremely proud with herself, possibly from winning the practice race they’d just had, for what it was worth.

“Hey, I’m not used to this!” He called back, a slightly panicked note in his voice.

“You’ll have to get used to it, then!” Fleet called from the platform, looking amused by how uncomfortable he looked. Maffett then cast a marker pen towards him, which he caught.

“Cheers!” He called back before accepting one of the baseball caps offered to him.

“Do you think you can win, Mr Concorde?” The Pegasus colt asked as Concorde signed his baseball cap.

Honestly, he hadn’t thought about actually winning a race, merely doing what he could and seeing what he had to do from there. He hadn't expected to score points in his first two races, but he did feel a podium was potentially up for grabs if things went his way.

“At the moment I dunno.” Concorde replied honestly. “But it’s entirely possible.” He added when the foals looked a bit uncertain.

“I think you can.” The colt perked up. “You’ve already beaten Dawn Wisp and he won a race in his first season.”

Concorde paused for a moment as he regarded the colt. He was right, Dawn Wisp had won a race in his first season three years ago, if largely by luck, if he remembered rightly, with two high profile crashes ahead of him clearing his path.

Even still, it was nice to know there were ponies with faith in him.

“What’s your name, lad?” He was compelled to ask.

“Gyromite, sir.” The colt smiled. Despite his size, he looked like he was old enough to graduate from school and had a chequered flag cutie mark. Concorde smiled as he put the baseball cap on Gyromite’s head.

“Well, Gyro, I’ll give it my all.” He smiled.