//------------------------------// // Spitfire's Day Off // Story: The Wrong Stuff // by DashEight //------------------------------// Note: This chapter takes place immediately following the events of "Top Bolt" "Aren't you overreacting just a little bit?" "I'm not overreacting, Clip. In fact, I'd say anypony that doesn't vomit at the sight of you is grossly underreacting." "Oh, come on! It's not that bad, I can barely feel it!" "I'd say that's because you don't keep any valuable organs in your head, but at this point I'm legitimately worried." Fleetfoot quipped as she and Soarin trotted down the row of administration buildings toward the base clinic. Fleet gave her wingpony a once-over as they walked. She was still uncomfortable with this whole 'concern for another pony' thing. It didn't suit her. Soarin tightly pressed a stained washcloth just below his ear, a thin copper rod jutting out from under it at an odd angle. "I mean, it looks like a through-and-through, but Faust dude how are you still on your hooves?" "C'mon Fleet, just let it go already. I'm fine, we're almost to the sick bay, let's just get inside without anymore awkward questions." Soarin replied tersely. He couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Training injuries were part of the job, a necessary risk that came with constantly honing one's skills to be the best they could be. Weren't they? As they climbed the steps to the clinic, a yellow mare mare in an officer's dress uniform dropped from the sky, flaring to a stop in front of them. "Fleetfoot, Soarin," Spitfire greeted her two lieutenants. "What happened? Misty sent my office a message about some sort of accident out on the thunder course and bucking Tartarus Soarin, what happened to your head?" "Ma'am," both junior officers saluted their captain. Soarin winced as his hoof bumped up against the hunk of metal that neatly skewered the right side of his cranium. "One of the lightning capacitors malfunctioned," he explained to Spitfire as she gaped at him, frozen in shock. "I don't think it's salvageable." "What Whinnyus Gage here means to say," Fleetfoot jumped in, "is that it took one strike from the practice thunderhead and the whole storage unit blew the frak up. I think we should put a halt to all weather magic reclamation until we have those junkheaps inspected, ma'am. They're getting old, and that might not be the only faulty one." She paused to think the situation over, not wanting to leave out any information her commanding officer might need. "Good news is we've still got the lightning rod." Fleet flicked a wing off Soarin's embedded head-rod with a soft plink. "So, you know, if we need it for anything..." "How are you even here!? How are you alive right now??" Soarin frowned as he mulled the question over. "Just doing what I usually do to be alive? You know, breathing and stuff." "Cap, if we're all being honest here, I've always considered it a minor miracle that Soarin learned to preen without choking on his own feathers. Is this honestly that different?" Fleetfoot added unhelpfully. Spitfire had seen enough. "Clinic. NOW." She pointed a wing at the entranceway behind her. "We're going already, jeez!" Spitfire sighed and rubbed a hoof along the bridge of her muzzle as her two squadron officers trotted up the stairs. The Wonderbolts were the elite, the best and brightest volunteers hoofpicked from all over Equestria. The demonstration team doubly so, as they were the face of the entire military. What vengeful deity had Spitfire pissed off to be saddled with these two? *Clang* "Ow." The absolute pride and joy of the EUP officer corps... *Clanggg* "Oof! Hey, Cap?" ...are a megalomaniac and a moron. Spitfire turned around to see Fleetfoot rolling around in hysterics as Soarin attempted to get his new cranial appendage through the clinic's front door. The rod was too long to fit lenghtwise through the doorframe. He tried again only to bounce backwards with an echoing clang. "Ouch. Cap? I don't think this is gonna work..." Fleetfoot smacked a hoof on the ground as she laughed at Soarin's predicament. "Hey Cap, you want me to call Wrench Turner and have him bring over an acetylene torch?" She giggled. "Or we could widen the wall!" "Oh, for the love of Celestia..." Spitfire grumbled as she marched back up the stairs to her beleaguered lieutenant. "Look that way," She pointed with a hoof. Soarin turned his head to the left, bringing the bar in line with the doorframe lengthwise. "Now, For-wahd march!" Soarin promptly complied, easily trotting though the door. "Hey, it worked!" He cried happily, turning around to show Spitfire. "Cap, it works!" *Clang* "Ow, who put a fire extinguisher there?" "Bahahahahaha! You did it again! Hey Clip, look at me!" "What?" *Clang* "Ouch!" "This is the best day of my life!" Fleetfoot choked out between guffaws. Spitfire's eye twitched. "You know what?. No. Nope. I'm not dealing with this." "But Cap--" "--Don't you 'but Cap' me, mister! You," Spitfire jabbed a wing at Soarin, "are going to get that thing yanked out of your head and I..." she considered her words for a moment. Between the day-to-day stresses of running a high-profile squadron and several near-disasters caused by her ponies' more impulsive moments, she was worn out. Yelling her lungs off at the newest crop of hapless Academy cadets had been cathartic, but not enough. What else could she do? "I'm out. Leaving. Taking a personal day. Take your pick!" Fleetfoot raised an eyebrow. "Cap, can you do that? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for shirking of responsibility, but that's pretty rash." "Can it, Starscream. I just have to run it by the squadron commander. Oh hey, Captain Spitfire!" Spitfire lowered her voice an octave. "Yes, Spitfire? Can I get this request for a last-minute leave day approved?" She mimed the act of opening a file folder, as if she were looking over a subordinate's paperwork. "Sure thing, Spitfire! Take the day off! Hay, take the whole week off. Thank you, Captain Spitfire!" She snapped off a sarcastic salute, then threw on her aviator sunglasses for good measure. "Perks of being the boss, bitch. Spitfire. Out!!" Spitfire trotted out the clinic's front door, spread her wings, and leaped into the air. Soarin and Fleetfoot stared at her retreating form. "That was... unexpected." "Yeah, I--" *Clang* "Owwieeee!" "C'mon, buddy. Let's see if we can't get that rod of yours filed down and pass you off as the newest Princess." "Neat!" * * * * * "CADETS!" Misty Fly snapped at the formation of pegasi assembled before her. They stiffened as she paced in front of them, their postures going from 'statue' to 'quantum stasis'. "I am Master Sergeant Misty Fly, your senior training instructor! Today you embark on the most difficult journey of your lives! Each and every one of you has proven you have the raw talent to become a Wonderbolt, but that is a title that is EARNED, not given! Your time here at the academy will transform you from a mere civilian to a disciplined airpony of the Earth-Unicorn-Pegasus Guard! For the next twelve weeks, we will hone your skills, push you to your limits, and weave the discipline and professionalism of a true Wonderbolt into your very souls!" She paused to let her words sink in to the newest class of Academy cadets. "I'm not going to lie to you, this will be the most difficult three months of your lives. Come graduation day, some of you will not be standing here with us!" The class shifted uneasily. Several ponies blanched. A dark stallion and white-coated mare near the front glanced at each other, worry in their eyes. "But those of you who show you are committed to serving your Princess and holding yourself to the highest standards--oh, don't give me that look!" Misty cried, having noticed the fear in the eyes of the class. "Some ponies might wash out, not die! What a bunch of downers..." she trailed off with a grumble. "Disregard that! Squadron, tench-hut!" The wavering crowd snapped back to the position of attention. "Sound off for roll call! Cadet Cloudy Peaks!" "Here, ma'am!" "Cadet Vapor Trail!" "Here, ma'am!" "Cadet Sky Stinger!" "Here, ma'am!" "Cadet... Thunder Dust?" "Here, ma'am!" A green pegasus with a golden mane and a thick black mustache raised her hoof. Misty squinted at the pony. She had the oddest feeling she'd seen this cadet somewhere before, but the seconds ticked by and nothing came to her. She shook it off and continued down the list. "Cadet Angel Wings!" "I'm here, ma'am! And let me say that you're like, my favorite instructor in all of Equestria!" "Can the chatter, Cadet! The proper response to your superior during roll call is 'yes, ma'am' or 'here, ma'am,' nothing more! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, CADETS!?" "YES, MA'AM!" "Excellent! Then there won't be any misunderstanding about this next part: Drop and give me twenty! All of you! MOVE!" Misty blew her whistle as the class assumed the wing-up position. "One-two-three-ONE! One-two-three-TWO! One-two-three-THREE!" Misty gave out a few more whistle blasts to properly motivate the cadets as they pushed out their wing-ups. As the class worked up a sweat, Misty noticed Spitfire trotting her way. "Ma'am?" "Sergeant," Spitfire returned Misty's salute. She only stuck to formalities at Misty's insistence that they remain professional in front of the cadets. Spitfire considered professionalism a lost cause in a compound that contained the likes of Fleetfoot, but humored Misty regardless. She took her job as instructor very seriously, and Spitfire preferred to stay on good terms with one of her only competent underlings. "Have you seen Rainbow Dash lately?" "She's on leave, ma'am. Left a few hours ago." "Ah, shi--ahem," Spitfire coughed into a wing. The cadets were all too busy pushing themselves up by the wingtips to notice. "I need you to find her and bring her back to base. Tell her it's an emergency." "An emergency?" Misty asked, concerned. "Is this something the squadron should know about?" "Nope! No need for that," Spitfire brushed away her worries. "It's a secret mission. Classified. You know, need-to-know stuff." Misty's eyebrow inched upwards. "And I..." "Don't need to know," Spitfire finished for her. "Just roll with me on this one, Dizz? Please?" "Of course, ma'am. You're the boss." Misty eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want me to do about the greenwings?" "Don't worry about it. I had them all through trial week, I can handle them until you get back with Crash." Misty hesitated another moment, then shrugged. As she turned to leave for the flight to Ponyville, Spitfire stopped her with a hoof. "Wait!" "What is it?" "...leave the whistle. I've had a rough day." * * * * * "Blackflight One Six, Canter Center. You are cleared to decend at flier's discretion, Tac-net is DRAGON KILLER on three six two point zero if you need it." Spitfire hoofed her radio. "Blackflight One Six, three six two point zero, thanks." "Oh man, my first black op! This is going to be so awesome!" Rainbow cried as she skimmed above the cloud layer, neatly tucked in formation with Spitfire. "Where are we going? Alpacistan? The changeling kingdom? The gates of Tartarus??" "It's a secret mission, Crash. Emphasis on the secret." "Right, okay, I'm just so excited! I can't wait to tell the girls about this! Oh, and Gilda! When she finds out she's gonna flip her beak!" "...I'm beginning to think you don't understand the concept of a secret mission." "Aah! No wait, I won't spill the beans, promise!" Rainbow mimed zipping her mouth shut. "Eyes only, on Celestia's secret service, boss! This is just. So. Freaking. Cool!! How far is it? When are we gonna get there?" "Now, as a matter of fact." Spitfire replied over the roar of the wind between the two fliers. "The staging area's just down there!" She pointed her hoof down at a hole in the cloud layer, then rolled over and pulled into a dive. Rainbow expertly followed her down through the clouds, revealing a small town surrounded by lush, rolling hills. Quaint cottages and shops dotted the banks of a gentle stream, gradually giving way to farms that brushed the edge of a sinister forest to the north. Rainbow even spotted a cloud mansion that looked a lot like her own and a... crystal castle? "What the hay!?" Rainbow cried indignantly. "You could've told me we were going to Ponyville!?" Spitfire sighed. "For the last time, Airmare. Secret. Mission! You don't get to know where we're going until we get there! That's how classified operations work!" "No, I mean I was already here! Why'd you drag me all the way back to the Plateau? You could've met me here!" "Oh!" Spitfire thought about that one as the two swooped down for a landing in an alley a few blocks away from the market square, out of sight of Ponyville's exceptionally curious pedestrians. "Sorry about that. Misty never actually said where you went. Honestly didn't put two and two together." She cringed awkwardly. "This must be how Soarin feels all the time." "Gee, thanks a lot. Ugh," Rainbow grimaced as she folded and spread her wings gingerly. "Sore," she complained. "Great, now I've got wing cramps for, well, whatever this mission is! Do you know how much of a workout it is to do that flight three times in a day at top speed?" Spitfire's top speed, not her own. Try as they might to match her Rainboom, the other Wonderbolts remained firmly in the 'subsonic' category of pegasi. "I wouldn't worry about that," Spitfire replied. "Our 'mission' to relax. You're here to help me enjoy a leave day." "What!? You said this was national security! Life or death stuff!" "Shades of truth, newbie. If the CO of the Wonderbolts is too stressed out to make proper decisions, it negatively affects the safety of Equestria. What if Grogar attacked Equestria while I was running on a week of no sleep? Or the Storm King? Do you know how hard it is to coordinate a nationwide military defense against the Storm King when you're so out of it you can barely see straight? Because I really don't want to find out." "What's a Storm King?" "Classified. So, are you in or out?" "I'm here, aren't I? Still, you could've just told me..." "It's not that simple, newb," Spitfire chuckled. "Needed to make a clean getaway, I say I'm taking a personal day and half the ponies on the base will come running with last-minute things they need my approval for. Besides, you'll enjoy this," She reached into the jacket of her dress uniform with a forehoof and pulled out a small plastic evidence baggie filled with crumbled green plant buds. Rainbow stared at the bag. "Okay, now I'm really confused." "C'mon, newbie." Spitfire rolled her eyes. "I found this in your locker during inspections. Don't act innocent with me." "What!? That isn't mine! I don't even know what that is!!" Spitfire felt her temper flare. She was about to rip into Rainbow with the dressing-down to end all dressing-downs when she realized she was holding the wrong piece of contraband. "Ah, buck me in the head! You're right, this is oregano from Surprise's spice stash." She shoved the baggie back in her jacket pocket and dug out a crumpled paper card. "This is what I found in yours. A rewards card for free massages at the Ponyville Day Spa." "Whoa, whoa, whoa! I, uh, lent Rarity my flight jacket a few times over winter and she must've--" "Save it, Dash. Your name's on it, see? 'To our most valued customer, Rainbow Miriam Dash!' So don't tell me you're 'not into girly frou-frou' stuff," she threw her foreleg over Rainbow's withers and hissed into her ear."Because I. Need. This." "I, uhh..." "Observe," Spitfire stretched her neck, popping her vertebrae like corn in a kettle. Rainbow cringed at the noises firing off from her squadron leader's spine. "Okay, okay! I get it, you need a spa day, like, yesterday! C'mon..." She poked her head out of the alley, checking both directions to assure herself that the street was absent of ponies that might recognize her. She shoved her wayfarers on, pulled up the collar on her Wonderbolts flight jacket, and galloped down the road towards a steepled blue roof. "Of course..." Spitfire sighed, taking off after her. The trip was a quick one, the two had touched down only a few blocks from the spa. Spitfire couldn't understand the point of Rainbow's disguise, as her wingmate's fame plus her distinctive mane and tail made her almost as recognizable as the Princesses. She had fans from all over the world, she couldn't expect to fool ponies from the small town she'd lived for years? Nevertheless, nopony recognized the two as they made their way down the street and into the spa, either due to light hoof traffic or, as Spitfire increasingly suspected, a silent agreement between the townsponies to simply humor Rainbow and her 'tough-girl' act. The tinkling of a bell greeting them as they trotted through the front door. A pretty blue-and-pink mare looked up the front desk. "Ah, mees Dash! How vunderful to see you again! I did not know you had an appointment today!" "Hey Lotus," Rainbow replied. "I'm not actually on the books for today, think you could squeeze in two walk-ins? My friend here needs a deep-tissue, like, pronto." "Hmm, let me see! Ah yes, ve have openings for two! Aloe!" Lotus Blossom called to her sister. "Customers! So, mees Dash, vill you be vanting your usual pampered--" "Ix-nay on the ampering-pay!" Rainbow hissed. "Uh, Cap, we're here for you, what do you want?" Spitfire smirked at Rainbow's panic, but said nothing. What did she want? It wasn't a question she heard often these days. "What I want..." She trailed off as she thought about it. "What I need right now is for your biggest, strongest masseuse to pound the crap out of my back and wings. I've got five years' worth of tension to get rid of, and tomorrow I gotta hop right back to Prism Plateau and put out whatever fires have started since I left." "But not, like, literally, right?" Rainbow reassured Lotus with an uneasy smile. "I know what I said, Crash. So," Spitfire turned to Lotus, "think you can help me out?" The masseuse gave her a knowing smile. "Oh, I think ve have just ze pony for you..." * * * * * "Ahhhh..." Spitfire sighed as she lazily rolled around on the plush couch. The two had retreated back to Rainbow's cloud mansion after their spa sessions ended. Spitfire continued to be impressed by the loudmouth newbie. This place was amazing, and Rainbow had somehow managed to afford it on a weatherpony's salary? Seemed almost unreal to somepony used to Cloudsdale prices. Even her furniture was made from soft, puffy cumulus clouds. It was heaven. "That was great. Remind me to send some derby tickets to the staff later. What was my guy's name again? Buff?" "Bulk. Bulk-ow-Biceps," Rainbow limped over from the kitchen, two drinks held in wing. "He was in my Academy class." "I thought he looked familiar! Did he wash out?" "I dunno. He might be on one of the reserve squadron rosters." "Hm. I should apologize for not recognizing him. Maybe offer him a job as First Demo's personal trainer too..." Spitfire started thinking of ways she could fudge the paperwork to get her squadron its own massage therapist when she noticed Rainbow winced as she sat down. "Crash? Is something wrong?" "Ouch-nothing," Rainbow replied through gritted teeth. Spitfire merely raised an eyebrow at her wingmare. "Okay, that miiight've been a little more intense than my usual," she admitted. "I can barely feel my wings!" "Why'd you get it, then?" "Cause I'm a Wonderbolt! We can't just go around getting hooficures and pampered mud baths! We gotta act, yknow, cool!" "Dash, being a Wonderbolt means you get to decide what's cool. If you want to dress in a bathrobe and sit in a hot tub full of dirt all day, go ahead. Who's gonna say anything?" "Well... what about the rest of the team!?" "They don't care if you're cool, they just like hazing the new meat. You could be Firefly herself reborn and they'd find something to give you grief over. Think about this: Soarin's my number two, right?" "Yyyyeah?" Rainbow frowned, unsure of where Spitfire was going with this. "When's the last time he's done anything remotely cool? Flying doesn't count, it's part of the job." "...Huh." "Yep." Spitfire burrowed deeper into the most comfortable furniture she'd ever had the privilege of laying upon. "You don't mind if I stay here tonight?" "Sure." Rainbow sipped her drink. "I don't get, Cap. You said you love your job, so why are you hiding out here?" "I do! I do love my job..." Spitfire trailed off. "But the little things that wear on a pony build up. Squadron commander duties are no joke, they'll break you if you don't take some time for yourself every now and then. Better now than when it actually matters." "I guess," Rainbow shrugged. To her, becoming captain of the Wonderbolts was a lifelong dream, the absolute highest she hoped to reach. How could somepony not enjoy the most awesome job in Equestria? The very idea was ridiculous to her. Still, her captain needed her hospitality, and damned if her name wasn't Rainbow Loyalty Dash. Okay, it wasn't, but only because her dumb parents had lost her birth certificate and the dumb court wouldn't let her change her dumb middle name without it! "Guest room's upstairs to the right." "Thanks again, Dash. One good night's sleep, then I'll be ready to face whatever ridiculous disaster awaits back at base." * * * * * "Plateau Tower, Blackflight One Six, flight of one inbound for visual two-seven." "Blackflight One Six, Prism Tower. You're number one in the pattern, cleared to land two-seven." "Blackflight One Six cleared to land two-seven. Be advised, I do not have the fire and rescue units in sight." "Blackflight One Six, standby... I'm not showing any ARFF flyers deployed. Do you need assistance?" "Negative, negative, I'm fine. I, um... I thought they'd be out?" "Nope, it's been quiet all morning. See you groundside, Blackflight." Spitfire frowned as she rolled into a lazy turn towards the runway. Huh. Did not expect that. Still, better be ready for anything... * * * * * "MUAHAHAHAHA!! ALL OF EQUESTRIA IS NOW MY DOMAIN! BOW BEFORE YOUR NEW SOVERIGN!!!" "What!? No! This can't be true!!" Soarin cried. "It's impossible!!" "Search your feelings, you know it to be true! Now, hand 'em over!" "Nooooooooo!" Soarin threw his cards down in dispair. He pouted as he pushed the last of his chips into Fleetfoot's larger pile the other side of the upturned crate. "You never said Discords were wild!" "Ah, but I never said they weren't, either! Everpony knows Discords are always wild unless somepony calls it!" Fleetfoot crowed happily as she gathered her winnings. The two of them sat in the otherwise empty barracks. Streamers, banners, and get-well-soon cards addressed to Soarin decorated the normally spartan bunk bay. "C'mon now, all of it!" "But this was a gift!" "Too bad! You bet it, now you lost it! So take! It! Off!" Fleetfoot grinned evilly and steepled her front hooves. "Slowly." Soarin carefully raised the golden tiara off his head, taking care not to touch the copper rod still lodged in his cranium. The clinic doctors, astounded by the walking medical miracle that was Soarin, had wisely decided to call for a specialist from Canterlot, a unicorn experienced in magical brain surgery. He was due to arrive the next day, and in the meantime the clinic staff had filed Soarin's newest appendage down to a shiny metal 'horn' and sent him home for the day. The crown itself bore a royal crest shaped like a pie and an inscription: 'To the prettiest princess of Prism Plateau, get well soon!! We miss you!! <3 Surprise.' "Aww. Shortest reign ever." "Sorry, buddy." Fleetfoot shrugged as she placed the tiara upon her head. "You had a good run. If it's any consolation, I'll put you in charge of my legions of terror. Maybe we even can rig a shock spear to that sucker and give you some crazy lightning powers!" "Awesome!" Soarin perked up. "Thanks for keeping me company today, Fleet. I know you must be busy since you were acting squadron commander and everything." "Yeah, yeah, I'm the greatest," Fleetfoot said as she counted her winnings. "Wait, what do you mean I was squadron commander!?" Soarin scratched at his bandages in confusion. "Seriously? C'mon ladybro, Cap took the day off and I'm on sick call. Who's next on the chain of command?" Fleetfoot opened her mouth to object, but found words had failed her.