Slate took a long drag on his cigarette, converting the last few dregs of tobacco into ash. His desk was positively drowning in ash and butts, and the near-constant smoking of so many hundreds of cigarettes filled the area with a constant, unpleasant haze. However, as he took one last look at his creation, he knew it had all been worth it.

    Never before had he made anything that was so large, and yet so light. In appearance, it was most similar to the cartoon space ships that made up the comic books and toys of young foals. It was smooth and sleek, with fins located behind a sharp, needle-like point. Behind what could only be termed a cockpit were two holes, which, other than the door, appeared to be the only access into or out of the strange craft. Its purpose was unclear to even the most educated observer, but to Slate, it was the most beautiful and wonderful thing in the universe - save, of course, for the one for which it had been created.

    And what a creation it had been! From initial sketches on discarded scraps of paper to the finished work had taken him weeks. Long, agonizing weeks of solitary labor and painful experimentation. Night after night without sleep, until the point where sleep seemed foreign to him. There was only the work, driven hard by coffee and cigarettes, his mouth and hooves carefully and quietly building, designing and assembling. Hallucinations were common now - auditory and visual, they served to drive him on, even as they became increasingly terrifying. Though he knew he was far from civilization, he nonetheless heard the trampling of hooves behind him and the shouting of voices. Monsters of unknown form crept up in the impenetrable darkness, only to disappear when he turned to face them. Even his own voice seemed not to come from him, but elsewhere in the cave.

    The first week had been the hardest - not only were the materials he needed scarce in Ponyville, he had no way of explaining what he needed them for. How were they to know that the duralumin struts he was purchasing would be converted into strong aluminum structural beams? How were they to know that roofing material would become a strong monocoque exterior, capable of withstanding high winds? How were they to know that the dozens of spools of wire would ultimately operate the control surfaces of such a magnificent invention? And, of course, there was the difficulty inherent in obtaining a sufficiently durable and soft cloth padding for the interior of the vehicle. When travelling at high speeds, simply slapping in a couple of cushions would not be enough. Everything had to be perfect. And it wasn’t like he had the pilot available to take measurements.

    The second week had seemed much easier. The supplies gathered - including sufficient quantities of coffee, pastries and cigarettes - he had but to bring his dream to life through assembly. It had been hard - his muzzle and hooves were badly cut and bruised from the work with so many tools, for so long, and under such harsh conditions. The hallucinations became more frequent, as did his exhaustion, the longer he worked. But somehow he was able to keep creating, and keep building, through all of the pain, discomfort and insanity. Somehow it all seemed to make sense. Somehow it all seemed to come together.

    He could hear a noise off to his side, near the entrance. He had fashioned crude hangar doors to keep out the weather, and from the sound of it, they were being opened. Trancelike, he walked towards the doors, a light grin on his face. Many times he had heard the door being opened, only to approach it and find that, in fact, nopony was there. But why not check? He was done with the work now. And if any pony was there, he could show them his creation and be proud of it.

    Slate was almost disappointed when he saw the angel on his doorstep. Up until now, the hallucinations he found on the other side of the door to the outside had been much more interesting, albeit infinitely less beautiful. Talking lamps, flying pink elephants and disembodied voices were entertaining and easier to “understand” than soft, blue-winged creatures whose eyes shone like amethysts and whose hair was like the shades of the sun shone through a prism. He had a vague recollection of this angel - and it was then that he realized who he was looking at - the pilot! The pilot of his machine! After these long and sleepless days of building, he had finally come face-to-face with the intended user of his contraption. She must have, in her angelic ways, come to know that what was being built for her was now complete, and that she was free to take it. He grinned broadly, though he felt himself swaying unsteadily on his exhausted and wavering legs.

    “You’ve come to claim your gift,” said Slate, his speech surprisingly slurred and undistinguished. Had he been speaking aloud or in his mind for the past few days? He didn’t remember his words coming out so mangled. Maybe it was all part of the dream he seemed to be experiencing? Because surely, the angel couldn’t actually be there to pick up her wings.

    “What...Happened?” said the angel. She looked confused. Slate tried to clear up his bleary eyes, but every time he blinked, the angel just seemed to get more blurry - and more radiant.

    “I made you something,” said Slate. “Don’t you want to see it?” He turned around, and found himself blinded by the darkness of the cave. Was it just an effect of the sunlight? Or had the lamps he strung up in the cave gone out? He took a step, and then found himself tumbling - falling, really, in some strange and eternal free-fall. Spinning end-over-end. There were voices shouting, as if from the top of a well, but even as he tried to look up, all he saw was the darkness. Where was the angel? Had she forsaken him? Had she turned down his gift? She must have - and this fall was his punishment. He curled up into himself, sobbing. He had given all, and found himself with nothing. No matter how hard he tried to help, he just made things worse. He shouldn’t have tried at all. He should have just given up. Because giving up and doing nothing was all he would ever be allowed to do.

***

    “Will he be all right, doctor?” asked Twilight.

    “Physically, all he needs is rest and fluids - and to lose a few pounds, and quit smoking,” said Dr. Stable. “I’ve never seen a pony so massively sleep deprived before, but he appears to only have suffered from a severe case of exhaustion.”

    “What about...The rest of him?”

    “I don’t know,” said Dr. Stable. “I’m not a psychologist. But normal, mentally healthy ponies don’t go converting caves into hangars and then building strange contraptions for weeks on end without bothering to eat or sleep. Not to mention all the other stuff he did. The paper dubbed him the Benevolent Burglar, considering he always left a pile of bits in exchange for everything he stole. And what normal, sane pony goes around doing that, instead of just buying things when the stores are open?”

    “Slate is definitely not normal,” said Twilight, sighing. Despite the doctor’s insistence that he was all right, Twilight had her doubts. He looked very distressed, passed out in that hospital bed. And he hadn’t woken up for well over fourteen hours at this point. “But...He isn’t bad, is he? I mean, he didn’t hurt anypony intentionally. And the things he did for me and my friends were good, weren’t they?”

    “It’s not for me to decide such things, Princess,” responded the doctor. “And I believe that what he’s done is a matter for you and the police at this point. My job is merely to ensure he recovers from the damage he’s done to himself. And all that means is keeping him sedated and hydrated while his body tries to rebuild itself. If you do intend on visiting him, make sure that the visits aren’t too intense - he shouldn’t do anything more strenuous than reading or eating until I say so. And keep him away from cigarettes.”

    “I’ll see what I can do,” said Twilight. “I guess it’s my duty as a princess to deal with him, one way or the other.”

    “Indeed it is,” said the doctor, closing the door behind him as he left. “Indeed it is…”

***

    The past few days had been unusually devoid of high-speed flight for Rainbow Dash. At Twilight’s insistence, she had spent her days visiting Slate and helping Applejack and the others clear out the cave he had commandeered for himself. Applejack’s missing tools were returned first, along with Rarity’s missing sewing machines. A number of other small items were also returned - missing pieces of electronic equipment, numerous lamps and cables, and a number of books on aerodynamics, physics and metallurgy. That which could not be returned was paid for using what remained of the cash that Slate had sequestered in the cave, leaving precious little for Slate himself.

    Rainbow had also found herself having to deal with Slate much more than she had ever wished too. He clearly adored her, but in the creepy, stalking sort of way. His feelings for her were certainly genuine, but they lacked the sense and sensibility of most of her fans - like, say, Scootaloo or Snips and Snails. Plus he was a good two years older than her, as opposed to being a young colt. Nonetheless, it was certainly flattering to have somepony dote on your every word, and it helped her avoid feeling guilty for all the damage he’d caused. After all, Slate’s mad construction binge was ultimately to create something for her and her alone.

    And what a thing it was! Although he called it the “Pegasus-Powered Sears-Haack Body,” the Rainbow Dash fan club had christened it the “Rainbow Rocket,” because of its similarity in shape and design to the toy rockets they were so fond of. Carefully painted by Scootaloo and her friends (mostly Applebloom, whose talent for outdoor painting was surprising for such a small filly) it was made to match Rainbow Dash’s unique mane and tail color scheme, helping make up for the fact that, when piloting the craft, nothing was visible from the outside but her wings. Even the cockpit window was surprisingly small and constricting - she could see forward, but that was about it, and even then it was like looking in through a mail slot on her front door. But the purpose of the Rainbow Rocket was to facilitate high speed, not high maneuverability, and the fact that she could barely see to turn was irrelevant in light of the fact that she could barely turn - even when pushing with all four hooves on the control wires.

    In those few moments when he was not silently enraptured by and listening to Rainbow Dash, Slate had managed to put together enough coherence to explain to Rainbow Dash what the Rainbow Rocket was and why he’d built it. Inspired by her Sonic Rainboom, he wished to create a device that would enable her to achieve unheard-of speed by piercing the air in front of her, enabling her to travel as fast as her wings could carry her. Her eyes had always watered to the point of blinding her when she performed a Sonic Rainboom, making it a particularly dangerous maneuver - especially since she had to dive to perform it, with gravity giving her the extra speed necessary to break through the sound barrier. Even putting her hooves in front of her to break the wind only did so much.

    As she allowed Twilight and the others to help her get into the machine, she was amazed at how light it was. She could lift it with her wings more easily - it couldn’t weigh more than fifty pounds or so. How Slate managed to make something so strong and yet so light was a mystery to her. The control surfaces were hard, to say the least, but she was a strong mare and wasn’t about to let some tough control surfaces hold her back. Besides, the entire town had turned out to see her take her first flight in the machine - and she wasn’t about to let them down! After all, inspirational fly-bys were kind of her thing. And if everything worked as planned, this would be the most inspirational fly-by of them all.

    Slowly spiraling upward to gain altitude, she was surprised to find that the Rainbow Rocket did not bend, flex or creak, despite the forces and strain she was putting on it. The control surfaces, hard as they were, pushed against the wind gently, and while they didn’t give her the freedom of movement provided by wing power alone, it enabled her to focus on pushing the craft forward, and leaving what limited steering she needed to her hooves.

    Once she was well above the few clouds that had been left in the sky that day, she began to push hard, seeing how fast she could go. Without the ability to look down and guess at her speed by the way in which the countryside went past beneath her, she had no real way to determine how fast she was going. But as the clouds began to disappear behind her, she realized that it must be exceptionally fast. The wind roared around her, but she could feel it only on her wings, which she beat faster and faster as she worked up more and more of her strength. As she continued to accelerate, the sluggish controls on her hooves seemed to almost become cemented in place, making even the most slight flight corrections difficult. It was like she was trying to extract her hooves from cement. But she could tell from the speed of the clouds passing by her that she must be travelling at tremendous speed now. There was a sudden shuddering, and she realized that she must now be trailing a Sonic Rainboom - the intense speed and shielding of the Rainbow Rocket keeping her from hearing the loud crack that normally accompanied this feat.

    Surprised to see her trademark move accomplished with so little effort, she began to push herself all the harder, beating her wings furiously. She felt them began to strain and flutter with the effort - they had never moved so fast, so effortlessly through the air, and neither had she. Only now did the Rainbow Rocket begin to show the strain of the forces it was under, shuddering and shaking as it approached its limit.

    Rainbow Dash could only imagine what it was like on the ground below her. She had probably passed over Ponyville at this point, and according to the compass installed in the cockpit, she was heading towards Canterlot at high speed. Applying all four hooves to the controls, she began a long, slow, upward bank at speed in order to put her back on the path to Ponyville. Then, once she was on the proper heading, she checked the small altimeter in the cockpit to see how high up she was. To her surprise, her altitude was intense - any pegasus would have trouble breathing at such a height, much less flying as fast as she was. Clearly, the pressurized cockpit was doing her favors.

    As she returned, she decided to give it all one last push. Dipping gently, to let gravity help her accelerate, she pushed in with her wings as hard as she could. Shoving with each one at tremendous speed, she strained hard, the clouds disappearing from view rapidly as she continued to accelerate. The Rainbow Rocket began to shake violently now, the great forces of on the outside straining against its rigid frame. It began to heat up as well - no doubt a result of the intense friction from the air rushing past. Still, it was surprisingly undramatic - ignoring the heat and the rush of noise around the cockpit, Rainbow could hardly tell that she was approaching the design limits of the machine - although she could tell quite clearly that she was reaching her own limits. Exhausted, she slowly began to slow down, making more and more wide, slow turns to burn off air speed and slowly bring the Rainbow Rocket back under control. She just hoped her friends could describe it to her and show photos from the ground - inside the rocket, everything was quiet and calm. But if what Slate had told her was true, the view from the ground was truly awesome - almost as awesome as Rainbow Dash Herself.

***

    “I’ve never seen anything like it!” said Twilight. “I’ve never even read of anything like it!”

    “That’s because nothing like this has ever happened before,” said Slate. Still confined to his hospital bed, he had been wheeled up to the window so that, while still immobile, he could see his invention in action. It had, in fact, worked even better than he had anticipated. He knew that it would enable Rainbow Dash to more easily create a Sonic Rainboom. He had not, however, anticipated that her high-speed pass at the Rainbow Rocket’s top speed would result in a continuous Rainboom, turning the entire sky into a kaleidoscope of color. It was as if every cloud, every rain drop, every particle in the sky had been turned into a prism, with dashes of color spouting every which way at once. It was dazzling to behold, and unlike anything he could even imagine happening.

    “So this is what you were working towards?” asked Twilight. She was the only one in the hospital with him. Though the other five had all visited him from time to time, they were all out in the field today, first helping Rainbow Dash get into the Rainbow Rocket, and then there with the crowd to watch her perform. Slate didn’t mind all that much - he had received more visitors in the past five days than he had in all the years of his adult life, and he found it surprisingly pleasant. He wasn’t afraid of these ponies, for whatever reason, and though they were not immune to his missteps and harsh words, they were nonetheless tolerant, loving and above all patient.

    “I don’t know what I was doing,” said Slate. “It’s all a blur now. I was compelled to act. I don’t even remember most of it. Looking back on my notes, it’s clear that, on some level, I knew what I was doing. But if you’re asking how, I’m honestly not sure.”

    “Well it is pretty amazing,” said Twilight. “And you did it all for Rainbow Dash, didn’t you?”

    “Yeah,” said Slate, blushing a bit. It was embarrassing. Rainbow Dash didn’t even know he existed when he was working on this, and yet she had consumed his every thought and act for weeks of sleepless work and maddening hard labor. Even now, he could tell that she considered him to primarily be a creepy, if harmless, fan.

    “You must care about her a lot,” said Twilight.

    “I do,” said Slate. “But not in the ‘Special Somepony’ sort of way. I think the best way I can explain it is that she is to me as Celestia is to you - an inspiration. A distant, benevolent force. Somepony I look up to. Somepony whose presence makes me feel that everything is all right with the world.”    

    “That’s surprisingly eloquent, coming from you,” said Twilight. The dazzling rainbow of light and color was fading now, and in the distance, Slate could see the Rainbow Rocket coming in for a soft, slow landing, its skids extended to enable it to come to a halt on the long, level grassy field  where the spectators were watching. Even through the glass, he could hear their cheers. Although he could only imagine the look of triumph on Rainbow Dash’s face. She was now, officially, the fastest mare who ever lived.

    “I have a lot of time to think about and choose my words in bed here,” said Slate. “And with you and your friends visiting, I have reason to choose my words and put in the effort.”

    “Well then we’ll just have to keep visiting!” said Twilight, smiling gently. He felt her hug him slightly, and to his surprise, he didn’t panic the way he normally did when touched. All he felt was happy. It was delightful.

    “Thank you,” he said. “You and your friends. For everything.”

    “What are friends for?” said Twilight, ruffling Slate’s hair playfully. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a certain sky-blue pony who needs to come in here and thank you for enabling her to put on the most spectacular light show Ponyville has ever seen!”

***

    “You have no idea how happy we are to have you here, Slate.” The gryphon, his new boss, would not stop shaking his hoof. Slate was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Such friendliness from those in authority was new to him, and he wasn’t sure he trusted it yet. Was William Searfeather being nice to him because he was a nice guy, or just because Princess Twilight Sparkle had paved the way for him?

    “Okay,” said Slate. At least he was going to get a nice office. With a great drawing board. And access to the best aerodynamics library in all of Equestria.

    “I mean, the inventor of the Rainbow Rocket, working here at Sternfeather Aerodynamics,” said William. “It’s a big deal for us.”

    “Me too,” said Slate. That was quite the understatement, really. In the past month he’d been fired, testified in court against his former boss (who was jailed for his favoritism and fraud), and been picked up by the top aeronautics company in all of Equestria.

    “You know how much we’ve been set back by that airship disaster,” said William. “The only burning ball of gas that Celestia wants in her skies is the sun. At least there were no injuries.” Slate nodded. The disaster had indeed set back airships in Equestria, probably permanently. No one wanted to ride in something that might turn into a fireball at any time, and heavier-than-air flight was being pushed to the fore. While the Rainbow Rocket was powered by pegasus wings, other magical engines were available (indeed, they were so small and inexpensive as to be sold to pet owners) and all that was left was to figure out how to apply them properly.

    “Is there anything you want me to get started on?” asked Slate. This was all very overwhelming, but he hoped that, if he could just get to working on something, it would at the very least give him something to focus on. Something he could use to distract himself from how strange and new this all was.

    “For now, just familiarize yourself with the facility,” said William. “We’ll have a meeting on Monday to discuss upcoming projects, and there we can see about getting you some sort of assignment. Probably on that ‘airliner’ idea that’s been mothballed for the past few months.”

    Slate nodded, and moved behind his desk. He’d never had an office before, much less such a massive desk. It all looked very empty. Very new. Very clean and neat. He’d have to try and keep it this way.

    Upon closer examination, he noticed a small package on the desk, addressed to him. Someone from the mail room must have dropped it off before he arrived. The return address was Ponyville, letting him know precisely who’d sent it. Carefully, he gently opened it, doing his best not to soil the contents with his spit or smudge dirt on them with his hooves. There was a letter on top of two small frames. He opened it gingerly.

    “Dear Slate,” read the letter inside. “We hope you are having a good time at your new job and in your new office.” The pink, loopy writing was unmistakably Pinkie’s, although it was clear the sentiment came from all six of his friends in Ponyville, not just her. “I’m sorry I can’t be there for your birthday, but I wanted to enclose a picture of me and all your friends here in Ponyville as a present!” Shifting the letter to the side, he looked at the first photograph. It was a pleasant shot of all six of them together, complete with signatures. Though small, it was cheering, and Slate felt his heart rise as he looked at it. He turned back to the letter. “Also, please accept this small gift from Rainbow Dash especially - she told me to make sure you have an awesome birthday, and I know this is the most awesome present you could ever receive!”

    Turning back to the other frame, he looked at it closely. There was a single blue feather in the frame, carefully placed against a blue background. He instantly recognized it as Rainbow Dash’s - what other pegasus could have such a powerful shade of blue in her wings? Slowly, he caressed the frame with his hoof, staring deeply at the feather. This tiny, fragile piece of a wing had traveled faster than the speed of sound. It had come from his angel, and it was irrefutable proof that she had, indeed, existed in his life time, and inspired him to create a machine he’d be known for until the day he died.

    Smiling, he gently propped each frame up on his desk, placing them where he could see them. The office felt warm now- welcoming and encouraging. And deep inside, Slate felt warmed and welcomed as well. He had friends - at least six of them - and they cared enough to send him something he didn’t even know how much he wanted on his birthday. A birthday he didn’t even remember he was having. It felt good. And it let him know that, from here going forward; he would never again be truly alone.

    “An airliner, huh” said Slate, sitting in his office chair as he lazily looked at Rainbow Dash’s feather on the edge of his desk. “Well, with a little help from my friends, I bet I can build just that sort of a thing…”