Cherry Berry stared at the computer screen. It glowed red, with the following words in white written over it:

SIMULATION TERMINATED – IMPACT WITH SURFACE AT 1327.4 m/s
PRESS ENTER TO END SIMULATION

Growling softly, she tapped the appropriate key on the keyboard with one hoof, then slumped back on the flight couch.

“So, we died, huh?” Starlight Glimmer asked. She hadn’t had anything to do in the simulation except look at her own computer, which still had the Sparkle Drive interface of two sliders- one for mass to be moved, one for pulses per second, and a start/stop button. The simulation hadn’t got far enough to bring the Drive into play.

“Yes, we died,” Cherry said quietly. “And I would have sworn that we had it under control. A yaw thrust malfunction plus three booster crystals failing on launch. But I’d swear I had the trajectory on the ball! How could we have crashed?”

“Don’t know,” Spitfire muttered. “But Martinez tells us in a few minutes.”

Indeed, in only six minutes (the simulation had only run a minute and a half) Martinez’s voice came over the MAV comms. “Well, Johanssen got you,” he said. “Don’t feel bad; she got me with that combo too, about a month ago. I notice you reset the thruster breakers. Nice try, but your thrusters were fine. You lost a first stage engine without the indicator light showing it, and suffered an altitude radar malfunction. Combined with losing part of your magic booster system, it’s only just survivable. So don’t feel bad about missing it.

“However, Spitfire, you should have spotted that the altimeter readings were bogus. You’re copilot and sysop. It’s your job to keep feeding the pilot- and us- the data you’re getting. The pilot may not be able to look at the readouts herself. Your lives depend on you giving us that info as it comes in, quick and accurate. But in your audio logs you’re slow.

“I know you’re having trouble with English. I understand. My great-grandmother never learned how to speak it, God rest her soul. But you’re Air Force. You’ve led flyers into danger. You’ve trained new flyers. I know you can put in the work. You can do it.

“Okay,” Martinez said, wrapping up the review, “the good news is, you’ve only died four times out of nineteen sims. You obviously have a solid grasp of the control systems. You’re already better than Mark is at this, probably better than Vogel or Beck either. The bad news is, they’re going to get tougher. We’re going to throw every survivable scenario at you, plus a couple you just can’t win. But only a couple, because impossible sims only make sense in Star Trek. Reset all switches, and contact us when you’re ready to begin the next scenario.

“Standing by for your signal, over.”

Cherry nodded to Spitfire, who began going through the pre-flight checklist to restore all the switches flipped in the last sim. “Thanks for the review, Major,” she said. “I just have two questions. First, you all will be watching us to tell us if something goes wrong, yes? And second, are instrument failures a regular thing for you? Because our instruments on our ships don’t break unless you kick them really hard. We made them changeling-proof. Also dragon-proof. Also yak-resistant. Why don’t humans do the same thing? Over.”

Spitfire paused in resetting switches to raise an eyebrow at Cherry. “Really, commander?” she asked. “This is only ship we get. Telling them it’s not good enough?”

Cherry picked up her own checklist and began resetting switches on her side of the console. “It’s not that,” she said. “The only times we’ve had things break in the capsule or cockpit is if we broke them ourselves, by accident. We’ve never had one just wear out or fail. Never. And I never questioned that until now. Engine failure, yes. Control failure, sure. But never the instruments.” She shuddered and added, “How many times did we get away with a flight that would have killed somebody if one instrument broke?”

The other ponies didn’t answer.

Six minutes later Martinez’s response arrived. “Yes, we’ll be there, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to talk to you. If your comms go out, you’re on your own. Better to be ready for that. And instruments don’t break often at all, but there have been times when it’s happened. Again, we want you to be prepared if it happens. Though when this is all over, I want to see one of your consoles full of instruments that never malfunction. Talk about the test-pilot holy grail. Hope that answers your question, over.

Cherry looked at Starlight. “What’s a grail? And why would anyone want one full of holes?”

Starlight shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “All I know is, it has something to do with naming a man after a dog.”

"Stupid human thing," Spitfire muttered.

Author's Notes:

Twelve and a half hours of driving, an hour of unloading, an hour and a half of setup. More work needs done tomorrow morning before AWA opens at 10 AM.

I'm surprised I managed to do this much.