Pinkie, Maud and Icy Iceland

by Elkia Deerling

Chapter one

“What do you think, Maud, are we there yet?”

Maud looked at her sister, then peeked her head over the rim of the basket. “I don’t know.”

“We should be close, girls, hold on!” their pilot, Air Miles, said. He opened the valve and with a loud sizzle, a bright flame jumped out of the burner into the hot-air balloon above.

“Oh! I’m sure this is gonna be the best PSSSD EVER!” Pinkie Pie said, and jumped up and down in excitement—the basket bouncing along.

Air Miles turned his gaze from his altimeter to the Pink pony in front of him. “What’s a PFFFD?”

“It’s not PFFFD, silly, it’s PSSSD, like a balloon deflating; you should know that sound, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” the pilot answered casually. “But what does it mean?”

“Pie Sisters Surprise Swap Day. It’s when we go to another place to do loads of fun stuff together. We do it once a year, and this time we’re even going to another continent! I can’t believe it; and that’s weird, because I organized the trip myself!” She skipped cheerfully again and bounced on her curly tail, making the whole basket rock in all directions.

Pinkie and Maud had chosen Iceland as their next PSSSD destination. They had been travelling for many hours over land, ocean and clouds in a large, motorized hot-air balloon. The enormous, bright red balloon was strung above a basket made of wicker and wood, which had the shape of a ship’s hull, and painted a sparkling yellow. It looked more like a small airship than a hot-air balloon, floating above a thick sea of clouds which prevented the ponies from seeing anything of the land below. It was as if the clouds themselves tried to keep their destination a surprise.

“Have you ever even been to Iceland before?” Air Miles asked.

“No,” Pinkie said, “I just closed my eyes and threw a dart at the map; you know, the way everypony plans their holidays, right?

Air Miles grinned and swished his bright-orange tail. “I guess so. You know, I’ve flown to Iceland a few dozen times already. It’s actually not a very popular vacation destination. Usually I fly to more southern destinations like Los Pegasus or Appleloosa, where it’s, you know… warmer! Oh, and easier to fly, of course.”

“So, what’s it like?”

“Flying is awesome! Especially with my little Sunstrike over here.” Miles tapped the basket gently with an orange hoof. “Winner of the Equestria balloon contest thrice in a row, the fastest of her kind, and of course”—he lowered his sunglasses—“designed, invented and built by me.”

“Wow.”

Air Miles chuckled. “Who said that earth-ponies would never fly? I may be an earth-pony, but I do have my balloonist’s license right here.” His eyes beamed down to a golden insignia, pinned high on his flight jacket. “World class pilot, world class aircraft. My Sunstrike is way faster than the fastest pegasus—hay! I’m pretty sure my aircraft could outfly even princess Celestia! Actually, now that I think of it, I should—”

“She meant Iceland, not flying,” Maud interjected, and then turned her head at the sea of clouds below her again.

Air Miles frowned. “Oh.”

An awkward silence followed, filled only by the soft whooshing of the wind and the creaking of the wicker basket. Fortunately, Pinkie Pie was immune to awkward silences, so she stared at the pilot and opened her mouth again. “So… are you going to use that thing again when we’re close? It looks so cool!”

“Certainly. The propeller will push us in the direction we want to go.” Air Miles looked over his shoulder at the steel construction behind him. “Yep, it’s pretty awesome. It runs on some kind of special fuel Dr. Whooves invented for me; same fuel I use for the burner. I don’t exactly know what’s in it, but it’s amazing stuff—although very flammable.”

“But… I thought you said you invented this whole thing yourself, didn’t you?”

“Well, eh…”—Miles loosened his scarf, despite the cold wind—“I-I meant the balloon, not the fuel.” He looked up uneasily at the orange-red canvas over his head, then he quickly continued, “So what do you mares already know of Iceland?”

“Well…” Pinkie raised a hoof to her chin, “I guess Icy Iceland’s got to be full of ice-cream. I mean, it has to be called Iceland for some reason…”

To that, the pilot’s cool smile suddenly widened to an enormous grin, and he broke into a roaring laugh. “I’m sorry! I-, I-,“ he tried to cram out of his mouth as he staggered back, reaching for his stomach. ”You actually think…! Think that Iceland is—that’s hilarious!” Tears streamed across his cheeks and he stumbled about, looking for a handhold as his knees were buckling. “And I guess your sister also thinks— HAHAHA!” Finally his hands found a secure object: the throttle control of the propeller. With a final gasp, Air Miles leaned over. “Yeah well, I hate to disappoint you, Pinkie, but—”

A loud crack resounded, and the motorized propeller rumbled to life. It immediately started blowing at its maximum capacity, filling the thin air with a horrible roar. The balloon jolted forward, faster and faster, until it reached the speed of a pegasus—or maybe even faster. Pinkie, Maud and Air Miles hold on to the basket quickly, trying their best to withstand the g-forces. An icy-cold airstream whipped across their eyes and ears. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DISAPPOINT ME!” Pinkie yelled above the thundering engine. Air Miles didn’t answer—He was too busy holding on to the basket with both his hooves and his mouth; his eyes wide with panic.

After covering a distance which felt like half of Equestria, the engine started smoking, spitting yellow sparks, and then exploded spectacularly, sending a shower of nuts, bolts, scrap metal and other parts flying around the basket. One of those parts was half of the propeller-blade, which shot upwards with a high, whizzing sound, cutting into the fabric of the balloon with a loud rip which gave all of the ponies goosebumps.

Maud was the first to scramble back up. “Is everypony ok?”

“Sort of,” Pinkie Pie said as she rubbed her cold ears and sore limbs. Then she turned to Air Miles, who let go of the basket shakily. “What happened?”

“The motor has overheated… eh… somehow,” the pilot answered, trying to fake the most innocent smile he could fake.

“Right,” Pinkie Pie said, but her eyes narrowed as she investigated his smile. Luckily for Air Miles, however, she continued. “Well, it isn’t that bad; we can fly without the engine, right?”

Miles adjusted his sunglasses and looked over to the heap of rubble, his innocent smile fading to a sad counterpart; his ears drooped. “Yes, but it’s still a shame. That engine was a custom design, you know?” He sighed.

“Oh, come on, Air Miles! I’m sure a gearhead like you could easily— yes, what’s that, Maud?”

Her sister, standing a hoofstep away, tilted her head. “What?”

“Oh, never mind,” Pinkie said, “I thought you were whispering to me.”

Air Miles’ ears twitched, and then his head shot up at the bright red balloon above; his sadness gave way to fear. “No! My beautiful balloon!” he screamed desperately.

Now Pinkie looked as well and saw the tear in the brightly-colored canvas. “Don’t panic; it’s only a teeny-tiny tear, right? No problemo.”

Then, as if on cue, the tear yielded under the remaining pressure of the hot air inside the balloon and tore across half of it with a sickening sound.

“Eh… yes problemo.”

The hot-air balloon lost altitude rapidly and tumbled down the skies faster and faster. Air Miles jumped up and raised his hoofs above his head. “We’re going down!” He yelled. “Why—why did I ever want to become a balloonist? There’s nothing we can do! This is the end!”

The basket shook and rattled, the air balloon flapped uselessly in the wind, it’s canvas whipping the cold winds around. Once more the icy airstream greeted them, accompanied by the loud flutter and creaking of the flying machine. In the chaos of the descent, Maud somehow managed to nudge her sister and say something to her. When Maud’s lips stopped moving, Pinkie Pie grabbed Air Miles by the shoulders and didn’t hesitate to smack him twice across the cheek, bringing him back to his senses. “It’s your cutie mark!” she screamed.

“What?”

“That’s why you wanted to become a balloonist!”

Miles still gave her a quizzical look.

“Oh, and as for your other question: USE THE BURNER!”

Air Miles shook his head, let go of his hoofhold, and dived underneath the valve. He turned it all open, and an enormous flame erupted from the burner. It shot inside the balloon—or what was left of it. Perspiration of both fear and heat washed over the pilot’s face as he watched the balloon regaining some of its roundness again, if only a little bit.

Pinkie looked up and gave a whoop. “It’s working!”

But Air Miles didn’t hear a thing, didn’t notice the balloon descending slower and slower, farther and farther away from deadly speed. He clung to the valve hopelessly; his sunglasses fell to the ground and shattered.

Then the balloon dove through the clouds. A stray gust of wind made it rock hard to one side. Land was in sight, and the basket crashed right into it. Because of the wind, however, it scraped many yards further. Everypony hold on for dear life as the hot-air balloon transformed from an airship to a crazed earthship, grinding its way through the soil. Showers of dirt flew here and there as they slid further, shaking and bumping violently. Suddenly, the hull-shaped basket started tilting to the side, capsized, and tossed the ponies onto the Icelandic ground. Both them and the basket continued for a few more yards, then everything and everypony came to a halt.

When the dust settled down, Maud was once again the first to rise, robust as she was. She quickly trotted over to Pinkie Pie and helped her on her hooves again. It was a miracle she wasn’t that hurt, just a few bruises and scratches, but no dents to her good mood. “Phew! Quite a start of a PSSSD, right?”

Maud nodded, Air Miles groaned, and then the big, red balloon drooped over all of them—apparently, even the aircraft agreed.