---

The history of the Wonderbolts began almost a thousand years ago. In the wake of Equestria’s darkest hour, they lifted the hearts and spirits of ponies and let them know that things were going to get better.

Over the centuries, their duties changed along with the need of the times. In times of peace, they’re the most polished and practiced flight team in the world. In times of war, those same skills make them an elite strike team, the vanguard of the air cavalry.

If you were going to write a book on the heroes that served with the Wonderbolts, you could make an argument for almost every single pony to have ever worn the uniform.

The most common thread in that book would be just how short those chapters were, with sudden, tragic endings.

---

Lightning Dust grimaced as she took a sip of the booze.

“Are you sure this is scotch? Because it tastes a lot like bathtub gin with some old coffee in it for color.” She held the glass up, looking at the murky liquid.

“If you don’t like it, you’re free to go somewhere else,” the mare behind the bar said, a grey earth pony with black hair whose decorum was at odds with the neon lights and techno music of the half-empty Canterlot nightclub Dust had snuck off to.

“I’m just saying it’s not exactly what I’d expect for ten whole bits,” Dust said.

“You’re lucky you can get anything,” the bartender snapped, half-turning to look at the shelves behind her. There was a lot of empty space where bottles should have been. “There’s a shortage of anything with a real vintage.”

Dust necked the rest of the glass, the liquid burning her throat the whole way down.

“Thanks anyway,” Dust said, pushing her stool away from the bar.

“Not so fast.” A wing pushed her back into place, and a mare sat down next to her with the same motion.

“I’m not here to-” Dust stopped mid-sentence as she recognized the white mane and, more than that, the uniform. Blue, with yellow lightning bolts along the edges. “Fleetfoot?”

“It’s been a while, Dust!” Fleetfoot said. “Last time I saw you was just after the war broke out when we were pulling the reserves and cadets together for combat training.”

Dust shrugged, on edge. “If this is about Spitfire…”

“It’s not. Not entirely, anyway,” Fleetfoot said. She held up her hooves. “I’m not here to fight. I want to make you an offer.”

“Let’s hear it,” Dust said, relaxing a little and leaning against the bar.

“First, let’s get some drinks.” Fleetfoot tossed some bits on the bar. “I’ll have one of whatever she was drinking-- no, wait, belay that. I saw the look on her face when she tasted it. I’ll have whatever the bartender would recommend, and one for my friend here, too, so she’ll listen without making any funny faces.”

The bartender rolled her eyes and took the bits, pouring two small glasses from an unmarked bottle kept out of sight behind the bar. While she might have been quiet, Fleetfoot's loud entrance was already attracting the wrong kind of attention. The thing every Wonderbolt feared most when they were off-duty and trying to mind their own business.

“Oh wow!” An orange foal with enough glowing necklaces to serve as a light display all on her own hopped up towards them, wings buzzing. “You’re a Wonderbolt! Fleetfoot, right? You have the all-time record for the hundred-yard storm sprint!”

“Guilty as charged,” Fleetfoot said, smiling.

“Can I have your autograph?” the foal asked.

Fleetfoot looked at the bartender, who sighed and slid a paper napkin and a leaky pen across the bartop. Fleetfoot quickly scribbled her name.

“Make it out to Scootaloo!” the foal interjected.

Fleetfoot added a quick message to the foal and passed it over.

“Stay out of trouble, kid,” Fleetfoot said. “When things calm down, maybe you’ll want to try out for the Bolts yourself. I’d love to have ponies as enthusiastic as you.”

“I will!” Scootaloo said, clutching the napkin to her chest and running off, starstruck.

"I was a Wonderbolt," Dust mumbled. "What about my autograph?"

"Not one with official merch," Fleetfoot countered.

“You really think she’s Wonderbolts material?” Dust asked, changing the topic.

“Right now? More than you are.” Fleetfoot said, bluntly. “You’ve got a dishonorable discharge and a lot of ponies pissed off at you. I don’t know how much of it’s true and I’m not going to try and figure that out, because Spitfire was my friend but I don’t wanna think you’re a bad pony either.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Lightning Dust said, taking a careful sip of what turned out to be apple brandy, and decent brandy at that.

“Something you don't know, huh? How about... I can fix it for you,” Fleetfoot said. “I can get the black marks removed and give you a clean slate. Even an officer slot if you want it.”

“I got a new job.”

“Is your new job better than being a Wonderbolt?” Fleetfoot asked.

Lightning Dust was going to say yes on instinct, but when she looked into the reflections in the glass she saw the look on Spitfire’s face when Marble Pie had torn her apart.

“Even if you don’t want to be part of the team again, I could use your help getting the band back together,” Fleetfoot said. “Celestia needs us for a mission, and it could turn the whole war around if we do it right. You in?”

---

“Your resignation?” Doctor Sparkle asked, surprised, as she looked over the poorly-typed letter. Lightning Dust had many amazing skills and academy records and apparently using a typewriter wasn't among them.

“I have to go on this mission,” Dust said.

“You don’t even know what the mission is,” Sparkle pointed out.

“It’s not about the goal, it’s about who I’m doing it with.” Lightning Dust looked to the side, feeling guilty. “I really messed things up for the Wonderbolts once already, and then this whole thing with Spitfire…”

“I understand.” Sparkle sighed. “But I’m not accepting this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dust frowned, turning back to the unicorn.

“If you want to resign, do it when you get back,” Sparkle said. “You’ve earned a vacation. If you want to spend it on a military operation instead of fishing, that’s your own business.”

“Thanks,” Dust said, quietly.

“Just be careful,” Doctor Sparkle said. “I haven’t heard anything about a mission or the Wonderbolts getting back together. You won’t have any of us to help you on this one.”

“I know.” Dust smiled and stood. “That’s part of it too. I’ve been relying on you girls too much. I need to stand on my own hooves for a while.”

“I see.” Sparkle nodded, turning her chair around. “Come back in one piece. You’re carrying some very expensive equipment inside you.”

---

Lightning Dust checked the slip of paper again. The Canterlot airship port were divided in two parts, one military and the other civilian, with a fortified checkpoint between them. The dock number she’d been given was on the civilian side.

“Welcome to the Velocitas Veritas,” Fleetfoot said, waving from the deck of a slim airship. “Get on-board and I’ll introduce you around!”

Dust got a good look at the boat as she landed. The gas envelope had several obvious patches, and the whole thing had been hastily painted in blue and yellow to cover up the damage and give it Wonderbolts colors. Even the deck of the ship proper was more plywood and patch job than actual decking.

“She’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” Fleetfoot admitted. “Resources are stretched thin.”

“That’s for sure,” Dust muttered. Maybe she was getting spoiled by the apparently unlimited funding Sparkle was able to pull out of her flank at a moment’s notice.

“Now, I’m sure you recognize some of these ponies,” Fleetfoot said, ushering her over to the gathered group with a wing.

“Fire Streak,” Dust said, nodding to the stallion. “And Wind Rider? I thought you were retired.”

“Streaky is going to end up retiring before I do,” Wind Rider said, smiling. “I’ve been working with the Equestrian Information Service, but I couldn’t refuse one last ride with the Bolts.” He shook Dusts’ hoof. “It’s good to see you. I know how hard it can be when rumors get a life of their own.”

“So this is the mare that ruined my daughter’s life?” An older mare pushed past Fire Streak before he could say anything. For a moment Dust thought she was looking at Spitfire, though with an extra two decades on her.

“Stormy Flare,” Fleetfoot said, getting between them. “This isn’t the time or place. We need Lightning Dust, and you promised me--”

“I know,” Flare said, glaring past her. “I’m doing this for Spitfire. She’d want the Wonderbolts to make a comeback.”

“It's something your granddaughter can be proud of,” Fleetfoot said. “Once we’ve got this mission under our belts she can be proud of her mother's legacy.”

Flare huffed and trotted to the railing, refusing to look at Lightning Dust.

Fleetfoot sighed, wiping her brow. Wind Rider shook his head and leaned against a small crate, taking a flask from his jacket and taking a long sip from it.

“Are you sure about bringing the cadets along?” Fire Streak asked.

“Cadets?” Dust asked.

“With the Academy shut down there aren’t a lot of ponies with Wonderbolts training,” Fleetfoot said. “Some of them have even less training than you. Don’t worry. Sky Stinger had great scores in all the teamwork tests, Angel Wings is solid at the fundamentals, and Vapor Trail… well, she volunteered, and we need all the help we can get, so she’s in.”

“Do they have any experience?” Lightning Dust asked.

“Yes and no,” Fleetfoot admitted. “Nothing on the front lines. Angel Wings was attached to a field medic team for a little while, but the others were second-line support. Logistics, mostly.”

“Sitting on their flanks and making sure the rations don’t walk away,” Dust snorted.

“Somepony’s got to do it,” Fleetfoot shrugged. “Everypony, listen up!”

The cadets came to attention, Fire Streak and Wind Rider straightening a little, and Flare looked back at Fleetfoot from the railing, not turning around entirely.

“Since the whole team is here, I’m going to go over the briefing. All of you volunteered for a mission sight unseen, and for that, I am very thankful. The information we have from the EIS, thanks to Wind Rider, is classified and I didn’t want it getting around if you said no. Good news, none of you hesitated, and that tells me you’re all Wonderbolt material. Wind Rider?”

Wind Rider smiled and kicked the crate he’d been leaning on, revealing that it contained a half dozen blue and yellow uniforms.

“These are for you. Consider it a payment in advance. You’re going to either earn this uniform and come back wearing it proudly, or you won’t be coming back. This is going to be a dangerous mission, and we’ll probably have some injuries. Some of you might not make it.”

Fire Streak gave Dust a uniform, and she looked at the folded fabric.

“Now I know what you’re thinking - what’s worth risking our lives for?” Fleetfoot asked. “Take a look at this!” She unrolled a map, and Wind Rider helped her hold it down. “This is the North Star Rehabilitation Facility. It’s a military prison. Sombra got control of it a while ago, and according to the reports, it’s where he’s doing a lot of dark magic to turn prisoners into slaves for his army.”

“So prisoners go in, and soldiers come out,” Wind Rider said. “It’s why we’ve been having so much trouble beating Sombra. Every soldier or civilian of ours that gets captured ends up fighting us later. He can replace his losses and grow his army much faster than we can.”

“What we’re going to do is bring the Velocitas Veritas in, deep behind enemy lines, and hit the prison hard and fast.” Fleetfoot traced a route. “According to the Weather Service there’s a wild storm hitting the area - they won’t see us coming. We can just get in there, rescue anypony they haven’t converted, and make sure Sombra can’t use the place ever again.”

“And our extraction plan?” Lightning Dust asked.

“As long as the ship is intact, run for the border. If not, we’ll go across the mountains to the East.” Fleetfoot pointed. “It’ll be hard for their earth and unicorn forces to follow us, and we can carry anypony we have to. Even one ravine or cliff and they’ll never catch up. We make our way to the coast and from there, we’ve got plenty of options.”

“Could be a worse plan,” Dust admitted. “What about enemy forces?”

“The soldiers are sent to the front, not kept in reserve,” Fleetfoot said. “Minimal resistance. Now everypony go and get changed, and we’ll get this show in the air!”

---

The extremely early history of the Wonderbolts, around the time of their formation, is well-known to military scholars, as is their modern history, but the two groups have almost nothing in common aside from the name.

From the beginning of the Solar calendar a thousand years ago, there has been an age of peace and prosperity. What wars Equestria has had were limited, just tiny border skirmishes between our nation and the much weaker neighbors around it. It's impossible to call them more than policing actions compared to the grand engagements of the past.

The Wonderbolts are something of a symbol of peace, really. The military could spare their best and brightest soldiers purely for a ceremonial duty, much like the Royal Guard. We'll know Equestria is really in trouble if they're ever called back to active duty and away from their more pressing schedule of airshows and recruiting drives.

---

Dust had to admit it felt good being in uniform again. It had been a long time, and back then she'd only been a cadet at the academy. If they'd had a mirror onboard she might have sat in front of it for a while just enjoying the sight, even if there was one little issue.

"I still can't believe you made me wear a stallion's uniform," Dust sighed, as she poked at the food they'd brought. It was a military ration that had gone out of date years ago. In theory it might be safe to eat, but the years had turned it into glop.

"You realize you're a head taller than anypony else here, right?" Fleetfoot asked. "If you really wanna try squeezing into something that's fitted to a pony my size, feel free, but don't complain about it being too tight to breathe."

"Yeah, yeah," Dust sighed.

"You know, I was at the Cloudsdale games, so was Fire Streak," Fleetfoot said. "I was pretty impressed. Honestly, all the reports I heard were that you got discharged, got out of practice, couldn't be trusted, whatever."

"That's probably all true," Dust admitted.

"Of course it is," Stormy Flare said, from the corner. She looked like she wanted a drink, but all Fleetfoot had brought was water. "They won't even tell me how my daughter died, but I know it had something to do with you."

"I--" Dust looked away. "It's complicated."

"If it's complicated, explain it to me!" Flare demanded. "Give me something. Anything."

"Sombra killed her. He enslaved her. Somepony I know had to kill Spitfire to keep her from hurting anypony."

Flare growled. "You mean they killed her to save you, when she was twice the pony you are."

"Except by body weight," Fleetfoot mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Dust said. "It wasn't my call."

"Wow, the atmosphere down here is tense!" Wind Rider trotted in. "I think we could all use a few drinks. I know Fleetfoot didn't bother packing anything good, but I hid a fifth of scotch down here somewhere. I was hoping to save it for the victory celebration!"

"You want to wash down terrible old rations with scotch?" Lightning Dust asked.

"It's practically tradition!" Wind Rider said.

He felt around behind the piled supplies, something skittering when he moved.

"Damn rats..." he muttered, before smiling as his hoof closed around the bottle. "Now let me tell you a story. It was more than twenty years ago, right after the Princess ordered the Wonderbolts expanded back to full strength. We got sent out to the Academy to get it in shape and train with the veterans, and when we got there we found out that nopony had replaced the supplies since the Griffonstone War, and our blankets were older than we were..."

---

"I can't believe we're serving together again," Vapor Trail said, looking over the railing at the bow of the ship. It was the middle of the day, so they were using the clouds for cover. Following the storm front would make the trip longer, but safer until they were ready for the dash towards the target. "It's been a while since we were in the same place at the same time."

Sky Stinger smiled. "Hey, we kept in touch."

"Letters aren't the same," Vapor Trail pouted. "Even if they do make ponies happy. I was on mail delivery for a while."

"Not a bad posting."

"You say that, but it's constant travel and a tight schedule. I was barely even able to stop long enough to sleep, some days."

"At least you had plenty to read."

Vapor Trail punched his shoulder. "Don't say that! I'd get in all kinds of trouble if I opened somepony else's mail!"

"I got stuck in a tent doing paperwork. After we left the academy I guess I lost my touch. I was barely able to fly."

Vapor Trail looked away. "That sounds... tough."

"Yeah. But I'm gonna prove I can still do it! I just need a chance to show it. With you cheering me on there'll be no doubt!"

Vapor Trail laughed nervously. "Yeah!"

---

"So how'd they rope you in?" Dust asked, as she wobbled over to the railing. "I asked Fleetfoot but she's too busy emptying her stomach over the side of the ship. Turns out scotch really doesn't settle on top of spoiled baked beans."

Fire Streak smiled at her as he worked the tiller. "Would you believe me if I said that I thought somepony had to be an adult with this bunch of foals?"

"You know, I wouldn't believe that line from most ponies," Dust admitted. "You were retired, though."

"Yep. For a whole year this time!" He laughed. "It's hard staying on the sidelines when there are ponies fighting and dying. To be honest, you sort of helped me decide to try one last time."

"Me?" Dust frowned.

"You got discharged. Not on good terms, sure, but you were out and you couldn't come back. Then you turn up out of nowhere and I hear all sorts of rumors about adventures and fighting monsters." Fire Streak shook his head. "Probably a lot of it isn't true, but I know you're doing something, and you had to work hard just to be allowed to fight in the war."

"Buck knows that's true," Dust mumbled. "Ugh. Even I'm getting airsick from that freaking rotgut. Scotch my flank!"

"I figure this way, I'll go out with a bang either way," he said. "Either the Bolts are coming back and I'm in all the history books, or my final mission is a daring raid behind enemy lines. Unfortunately, if I end up teaching recruits I'll have to tell them it's bucking stupid to do what I'm doing."

"Do as I say, not as I do?"

Fire Streak laughed. "That should be the motto of the Wonderbolts."

---

More than once, it seemed like the history of the Wonderbolts had reached an end. The ranks would be depleted, ponies would be reassigned, and they’d just be a footnote and a phantom regiment existing on the official roster without a single active member.

The modern incarnation of the Wonderbolts had been reduced to less than a half-dozen pegasi until they were expanded by royal order less than two decades ago, with Princess Celestia ordering them into service to find the best and brightest and inspire them to fly higher.

Nopony knows exactly what motivated her, but rumors suggested it was either at the request of Princess Cadance, who had been a pegasus foal before her ascension, or a result of the so-called ‘Cloudsdale Incident’

The storm howled around them, the entire ship rocking and creaking with the force of the wind.

Dust paced below deck, trying to stay out of the driving rain for as long as possible. It didn’t help that much -- the ship was so poorly sealed that there were puddles under her hooves where it was dripping through from above. Thunder cracked, lightning throwing shadows across the dim room.

Something moved in the dark where nothing was supposed to be, and Dust’s train of thought derailed. Her body acted purely on instinct, pouncing through the crates of supplies to tackle the form hiding there.

“Don’t hurt me!”

Dust blinked, looking for the first time at what she was about to stomp. An orange filly was pinned under one of her hooves, wearing a Wonderbolts windbreaker and baseball cap.

“You’re that foal that was begging for autographs,” Lightning Dust said, confused.

“Get away from her!”

Stormy Flare slammed into Dust’s side, bouncing off. She was only an average-sized pegasus, a full head smaller than Dust had grown. With the difference in their weight and strength, Dust hadn’t even really felt the impact.

Still, she wasn’t going to squash an innocent filly. She stepped back.

“What’s going on down here?” Fleetfoot demanded, flying down the stairs. “Stormy Flare, stand down!”

“But she was--” Flare growled at Lightning Dust.

“I found a stowaway,” Lightning Dust reported, keeping her tone flat and professional. “It looks like it’s your fan from the other night, Ma’am.”

“Wait a minute…” Fleetfoot narrowed her eyes. “Scootaloo, right?”

“You remember me?” The filly sounded surprised.

“I remember all my fans,” Fleetfoot assured her. “What are you doing here? We’re in the middle of a dangerous mission!”

“I wanted to see the Wonderbolts in action!” Scootaloo hopped to her hooves. “I promise I’ll stay out of the way!”

“We can’t take her with us,” Lightning Dust said. “We’ll have to turn back.”

“Negatory on that,” Fleetfoot said. “We’re already in the final straight run -- we're too far behind enemy lines. If we pull back now they’ll increase security at the prison. We don’t get a second shot at turning the war around. We’ll have to keep going, and leave her onboard the ship with some of the cadets or something.”

“Ma’am, we’re within visual distance of the prison! Fire Streak confirmed he saw it through the storm!” Vapor Trail hovered on the stairs, just inside the hatch, her mane buffeted by the wind and rain making her uniform cling to her body.

“Good,” Fleetfoot said. “According to Wind Rider’s information, they won’t have any serious anti-air ability. The kid'll be safe. I'll have Angel Wings stay behind to watch her. She's a medic, she must know how to take care of foals.”

The ship rocked as something impacted the hull.

“They’re just throwing rocks,” Fleetfoot said.

The ship shuddered and listed.

“Big rocks?” she corrected, smiling nervously.

A section of the hull exploded, the icy wind howling as it filled the cabin, rain drenching everypony instantly. Fleetfoot might have tried to say something after that, but the ship dropped straight down, free-falling. Stormy Flare grabbed Scootaloo, shielding her as crates bounced around, Vapor Trail hitting her head on the deck and going limp.

The fall stopped suddenly with a jerk.

Dust shoved a crate away, the wood shattering when it hit the far bulkhead, old military rations spilling out.

“Is everypony okay?” She asked.

“I think so,” Fleetfoot said, helping Vapor Trail up. “I guess they had some surprises we didn’t know about.”

“Nopony ever said this job would be safe,” Lightning Dust said. She took a step, and the deck shifted under her, the entire ship creaking. “Oh horseapples.”

The boards cracked with a sound almost exactly like the thunder overhead, and the ship fell apart.

---

Fire Streak coughed, dust and rot filling his nostrils as he pulled himself free of the wreckage of the airship’s gas envelope. Sky Stinger grunted with effort as he tried to wiggle free.

“Hold on,” Fire Streak said, grabbing a bent metal rod and using it as a lever to lift the debris enough to free the cadet.

Sky Stinger looked around. “What the heck is this place?”

“Some kind of dungeon?” Fire Streak shrugged. “It’s a prison. I think we broke through to an underground level.” He nodded up at the roof, where rain poured in through a hole in the stone.

“And the ship?” Sky Stinger asked.

“I don’t think that she’ll fly again,” Wind Rider said. He winced as Angel Wings helped him up. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Your wing is broken in two places,” she said. “We need a splint and bandages to keep it from getting worse, or it might get worse.”

“Oh, a broken wing is the least of your problems.”

Something in the dark started to glow, and something almost entirely unlike a pony stepped out of the shadows, a massive white shape almost as tall as Celestia, with crystals jutting out of his spine and huge prisms growing from his shoulders. He grinned madly, showing fangs, his head surrounded by a gold-blond mane that hung almost all the way to the ground.

“Is that one of Sombra’s soldiers?” Sky Stinger whispered.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Wind Rider hissed, taking a step back.

Angel Wings froze in place, shivering with fear.

“My name is Adamant and I’m very happy to see you.”

“It’s nice to meet you?” Angel Wings said, unsure of what to do.

The crystal-encrusted pony smiled. The crystal cluster on his head started shimmering, and a bolt of magic blew Angel Wings’ head apart like a watermelon in a hydraulic press.

“Run,” Adamant whispered, still smiling, his pale coat dripping with gore. “It won’t be fun otherwise!”

Next Chapter: The Last Stand of the Wonderbolts Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 34 Minutes