Applied Scootascience

by Samey90

5. Scootatesting

The meeting in Celestia’s war room hadn’t started yet. The Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies was getting late, apparently due to an important conference about the new DIY field necromancy kits. Celestia herself had to attend the lunch with some nobles. Spitfire was also missing, still not back from a reconnaissance flight. At least Starlight had joined the ponies at the table, after taking some well-deserved rest in Princess Luna’s Clinic for Mentally Unstable Unicorns.

“At this point, they should be developing religion,” Moondancer said. “They’re completely isolated from the outside world, with royal guards blocking all the roads to Ponyville, right?”

“Remember that they have books,” Twilight replied. “I hope they didn’t burn down my library. Last photos showed a lot of activity around the castle, right?”

“Still, with hardly any outside influence…” Moondancer shrugged. “Maybe they sacrificed the clones to the gelatinous cube.”

“We agreed not to talk about the gelatinous cube,” Starlight muttered. “Also, if they’re anything like the original Scootaloo, their religion involves running ponies over with scooters.”

“Interesting.” Moondancer levitated a notebook. “Do you think they reached the stage of phallic symbols?”

The door to the war room burst, open and Spitfire walked in. Her uniform was torn and ragged, with visible burn marks. Half of her face was covered with bandaids; her wings and legs were bandaged too, with bits of missing fur peeking from under them.

“Do you have the photos?” Moondancer asked. “Did they start a cult?”

“Take off your glasses,” Spitfire muttered.

“Why?”

“Because I need to break someone’s nose and it’d be awkward to beat a mare with glasses,” Spitfire replied. “Also, where’s that moron in the black mask? We need a depopulation bomb to level the whole place.”

“What happened?” Twilight asked. Behind her, Starlight facehoofed.

Spitfire looked at Twilight and raised her eyebrows. “We had a nice dinner and they gave me cupcakes.” She sighed. “Isn’t it obvious that we got attacked by those little motherfuckers?”

“I was just going to mention that you don’t look very well,” Starlight said. “Did they find a way to redirect that curse which somehow happens to still be looming in the ruins of the School of Friendship? Funny thing, no one knows how it got there…”

“Nah, it wasn’t a curse,” Spitfire muttered. “As far as I know, it was conventional warfare.”

The sky above Ponyville was clear. One of the variants of hypothetical attack on the town involved flooding it with rain, but for now, Spitfire and Fleetfoot needed good visibility.

“Lots of Apple Blooms near the city square.” Fleetfoot took a photo. “Also, it seems like this colt is making some kind of statue.”

“He has at least two clones,” Spitfire said, adjusting her binoculars. “Take a photo for the eggheads. When Moondancer hears it might be a start of a new religion, she may need to use one of her phallic symbols herself.”

Fleetfoot shrugged. “I don’t need any fancy science to know they made Crash their god. After all, why didn’t she kick their asses and fly away at the speed of sound?”

Spitfire chuckled. “We can come down there. If she’s their god, we may become a part of the pantheon.” She looked down. “Hmm, what are those Apple Blooms building down there? Looks like a giant firework launcher.”

Fleetfoot froze. “Dear Celestia,” she muttered.

Spitfire grabbed the binoculars. “There’s more.”

“No...” Fleetfoot turned back and flapped her wings.

“Hey, we’ve been over this.” Spitfire grabbed Fleetfoot’s tail. “Fireworks are ultimately harmless. I didn’t spend half of our medical budget for hypnosis so you’d run away at the slightest hint of–”

Suddenly, a firework whistled past them and exploded, sending them both tumbling in random directions.

“NOT THIS AGAIN!” Fleetfoot exclaimed, diving to the ground.

Spitfire sighed, seeing that her wingpony was, for some reason, flying towards the danger rather than away from it. “Aw, shit,” she muttered, following her. “Fleetfoot! Come to me, you idiot!”

More fireworks exploded around her. She spun, covering her ears and trying not to get separated from Fleetfoot. At least, as far as she could tell, the projectiles weren’t filled with any kind of shrapnel, though she could still feel the sparks burning holes in her uniform.

“Fleetfoot! Watch out!” Spitfire exclaimed, darting in front of the fellow Wonderbolt and catching a firework that was about to hit her. “Now I got you, little scumbags…” she muttered, trying to direct the small rocket towards the ground.

Suddenly, Spitfire realised that the firework’s thrust was much stronger than her wings, pushing her higher and away from Fleetfoot. What was worse, several more projectiles were now flying at her, guided by magic from a single Sweetie Belle clone, running between the launchers.

Spitfire looked around and released the firework from her grasp. It started to sputter smoke; the thick paper tube making its body inflated a little.

“Oh, fudge,” Spitfire whispered just before the firework exploded, sending her towards the ground. Before she passed out, she caught a glimpse of Fleetfoot dodging a firework and hitting the roof of some house at a full speed. Then Spitfire herself hit some branch and fell to the ground.

She woke up some time later, with the feeling like a free jazz band deciding that her skull would make a great rehearsal hall. Groaning, Spitfire reached to her backpack. It was half-burned and got somewhat crushed when she landed on it, but its contents were intact.

Spitfire grabbed a small can labelled as “Regeneration Potion”. It was issued by the Department of Wartime Technologies and its colourful label promised improved chocolate flavour, as well as kidney failure and rectal bleeding almost completely eliminated from the list of side effects.

Taking a sip, Spitfire thought that someone in the Department of Wartime Technologies had no idea about the taste of chocolate. At least the pain in her tailbone and wings dulled, allowing her to get up and try to take off.

When she managed to fly above the trees, she noticed that most of Ponyville’s main square was covered in thick smoke. Spitfire didn’t see Fleetfoot; she was afraid to get closer, even though she could see that someone had knocked Sweetie Belle’s clone out, and that most of the Scootaloos were frantically putting out fires caused by stray fireworks. Spitfire made another circle around the town, but the pain in her ribs was telling her it was time to find a field hospital; she didn’t want to risk another shady potion.

Groaning and cursing under her breath, she flapped her wings, heading to Canterlot.

As Spitfire finished her story, the Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies joined the meeting. She still had her mask on, but instead of a robe, she wore a dirt-covered tracksuit and levitated a small shovel with silver-covered blade.

“We shortened the handles by an inch,” she said. “Our research showed that it makes it easier to carry, without hitting it against the gravestones.”

“When I die, I want to be thrown into the ocean,” Spitfire muttered. “Do you have something to give all those clones a really bad time?”

The Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies levitated a piece of paper from the pocket of her tracksuit. “A weaponised party barge. A cannon on top, a pie launcher in the front, tracks instead of wheels, a genetically-modified bat using echolocation to find the enemy…”

“I’ll take three,” Spitfire said. “Especially since we now have to drag Fleetfoot’s ass out of this hell.”

“Don’t call this ‘hell’,” Moondancer replied. “It’s an interesting situation. It’s not like they’re digging a hole to Tartarus.”

Spitfire sighed. “I’m sorry,” she muttered and threw a punch at Moondancer. It missed the mark by a wide margin; the cast on Spitfire’s hoof limited her movement. A split second later, Spitfire landed on the table, hit by three spells. She rolled on it, crushing the orange flags, and lay motionless, breathing heavily.

“Huh.” The Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies emerged from under the table. She poked Spitfire a few times with a shovel. “What did you use?”

“Calming spell,” Twilight replied. “After all, she’s generally right. The clones drove ponies out of their homes and kidnapped two Wonderbolts.”

“I just tried to change her into a polecat, but Twilight’s spell collided with mine and I just gave her a bloody nose,” Moondancer said. “But it looks like something bigger. What did you do to her, Starlight?”

“The Torment of Tantabus.” Starlight smiled sheepishly. “I’ve read it’s a great spell for personal defence and it was the first one I thought of.”

“You trapped her mind in a multi-layered chain of endless nightmares and eldritch horrors,” Moondancer said. “That’s not something you see often.”

The Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies looked at Starlight and nodded. “Did I mention that we’re hiring?”

“No!” Twilight exclaimed, charging her horn and aiming at the Head of the Department of Wartime Technologies. “Meeting adjourned until we get Spitfire out of her nightmares!”

Just as Spitfire landed on the table in Celestia’s war room, Fleetfoot woke up from her own nightmares, full of fireworks exploding around her. She thrashed, trying to dodge them, and suddenly found herself in some cage. The lights were dim, but she could hear someone next to her.

“Big Mac?” she muttered.

“Why does everypony want to talk to mah brother?” Apple Bloom asked. “Get up. Ya are a Wonderbolt, aren’t ya?”

“I’m a Wonderbolt who is currently half-deaf, half-blind, and half-dead,” Fleetfoot replied, groaning.

“That’s a lot of halves.” Scootaloo looked at Fleetfoot, who screamed, seeing her.

“Don’t worry, it’s the real one,” Sweetie said. “And, for the record, so am I.” She rolled her eyes when Fleetfoot desperately tried to hide in the corner of the cage.

“What are you doing here?” Fleetfoot suddenly noticed that the cage was standing at the bottom of some ditch and that her wings were chained together, preventing her from flying away. “Are they going to bury us alive?”

“No, it’s the clones’ new idea,” Apple Bloom replied. “They heard the story of Cozy Glow, got all them wrong ideas ‘bout it, and now we have to dig a hole to Tartarus…”

“Sounds neat,” Fleetfoot said. “At least when we all get killed by unimaginable monsters, I won’t have to deal with all those motherfucking clones in this–” She paused, realising that she was talking to fillies.

Sweetie tilted her head. “What does ‘motherfucking’ mean?”

“We have to ask Button,” Scootaloo said. “Twist keeps calling him that.”

Fleetfoot looked around. “Speaking of, I still feel it’s digging our own graves with a twist…”

They heard some screaming in the distance, interrupted by the sound of someone getting kicked. A filly with red, curly hair rolled to the bottom of the ditch, skidding to a halt next to the cage.

“Hello, Twist,” Apple Bloom said. “What’s up?”

“You know that one Scootaloo with an eyepatch?” Twist asked. “I managed to put a peppermint stick in her eye socket before the rest threw me here.”

More screaming followed, and soon, Button Mash landed in the ditch. “They got angry,” he muttered. “Our plan for today just got raised to twenty metres.”

“Just great,” Apple Bloom said. “But no worries, Dee-Dee has it covered.”

Fleetfoot didn’t know who Dee-Dee was, and was a bit surprised when more ponies soon joined them, led by the proud Diamond Tiara’s clone. Actual Diamond Tiara was with her, dragging a sled with shovels and other tools. Dee-Dee climbed on the sled and looked at the crowd.

“Welcome,” she said. “I hope you like our new project. Once the Scootaloos go away, we’ll start digging.”

“The horror!” one of the mares in the crowd shouted.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie actually has some experience in physical labour. You should make her the foreman.”

“Shut up!” Dee-Dee exclaimed. “I think most of you aren’t familiar with the details of this operation…” She pulled the fabric, covering the sled, revealing Silver Spoon hidden among the shovels and pickaxes. “Now that all of you are gathered in this ditch, they don’t expect you to try to escape. After all, Apple Blooms are supposed to guard you, despite being no wiser than the original…”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom exclaimed.

“So, once they give us all the tools, we’re set.” Dee-Dee smirked in the most unpleasant way.

Indeed, the fifty Apple Blooms soon joined them with more sleds. Everypony was given a shovel and they started digging. Fleetfoot too, despite the pounding headache, was placed between the three mares, one of which fainted and the other kept muttering “the horror” over and over.

“Fleetfoot,” the pegasus said to the only mare who looked sane. “Does that filly think we can get out of here?”

“Roseluck,” the mare replied. “Well, if we chase them off with pickhandles and shovels…”

“Maybe me.” Fleetfoot shrugged. “When I was in the army, I was trained to kill someone with a shovel in thirty different ways, some of them pretty gruesome. But I’d say we’re at a tactical disadvantage.”

“Tactical what?” Roseluck asked.

“We’re at the bottom of the ditch, next to a pile of earth,” Fleetfoot replied. “If someone hears us dealing with Apple Blooms, they may just drop it on our heads.” She shuddered. “Or bring the fireworks again, making us sitting ducks. Also, how many of you would beat up a filly?”

“Not me,” Roseluck replied and pointed behind her. “Maybe Derpy.”

Fleetfoot turned back and saw a pegasus mare breaking a rock with a pickaxe. There was a unicorn filly next to her, poking the ground with a shovel.

“Of all the timelines I’ve seen, this must be the worst,” the filly muttered to herself. “What are we even doing here instead of sitting in Trottingham with Doc and the rest?”

“We need to find Chirpy and get her out of here,” Derpy replied.

“Just yesterday she wasn’t even my sister.” Dinky sighed. “And now we got caught because of her. When I meet her, I’m gonna stick her broken quill up her–”

“Don’t worry,” Derpy said. “If we’re not back in a week, Vinyl and Octavia will come to rescue us.”

“That’s not good news at all!”

“Derpy? Is that you?” Fleetfoot asked.

The pegasus turned to her. “Fleetfoot? Long time no see! We haven’t talked since my last Cloudsdale Derby, I think.”

“Well, you may not remember, but I visited you at the hospital.” Fleetfoot shuddered and looked at at the filly. “Your daughter?”

“Long story,” Derpy replied. “Dinky, say hello to Fleetfoot. We need to catch up sometime, after it’s over. Like, you are a Wonderbolt and all that–” She was interrupted by one of Apple Bloom’s clones, poking her.

“Less talking, more digging,” the clone said.

Derpy furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed the handle of her pickaxe. Then, in one swift motion, she smacked the clone, sending her flying across the ditch.

“Home run, Mom!” Dinky exclaimed, hitting the nearby clone with a shovel.

Seeing one of their kind bouncing off the ground, the remaining Apple Blooms stood in formation and charged at the other ponies. Fleetfoot looked around, trying to put the others in something resembling a line, but with no success; Roseluck hid behind her while Daisy passed out again.

“Come on!” Twist screamed, leading the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Silver Spoon, and both Diamond Tiaras. “This is for ditching me!” she exclaimed, punching the nearest Apple Bloom. “This is for leaving me and finding new friends!”

“Ah’d rather stay away from her,” the real Apple Bloom muttered.

The screams and other noises attracted the Scootaloos hanging out near the ditch. They rushed to the edge, some of them accidentally knocking other clones down into the pit.

“Go up!” Fleetfoot exclaimed, grabbing a Scootaloo and Apple Bloom with her hooves and knocking their heads together. “Someone untie my wings!”

Dinky hit the magic inhibitor on her horn with a shovel a few times, freeing it. She charged her magic, breaking Fleetfoot’s and Derpy’s bonds.

“Out of this ditch!” Fleetfoot screamed, using her wing to grab another Apple Bloom and toss her at the others like a bowling ball. Suddenly, she felt something heavy hitting her temple. Staggering, she looked up and saw that the Scootaloos started to pelt them with rocks and bits of mud. What was worse, Fleetfoot noticed the Sweetie Belle’s clone standing in front of the pile of earth and charged her horn, trying to levitate it.

“Motherfu–” Fleetfoot got hit with a rock and collapsed, immediately drowning in the charging crowd of Scootaloos.