//------------------------------// // Day One // Story: Where there's Fire, there's Smoke // by NavyPony //------------------------------// Where there’s Fire, there’s Smoke. by NavyPony Day One “Umm… excuse me, ma’am?” It was our newest member – his name was Lightning Streak, and he was one of the team’s up-and-coming hotshots. He’d finished the day’s routine ahead of most of the other full ‘Bolts, and he was probably just heading back to the locker rooms when he spotted me. I was a hundred yards away from the entrance, and I had just lit up. “Yeah? What’s up?” “Captain, you… you smoke? That’s really unhealthy, you know?” He was one of those – I could see it in his eyes. He hoped that I didn’t know, because then he’d get to tell me all about how I was killing myself and everypony around me with my toxic habit. Surely, if I actually knew the dangers of smoking then I’d quit, and he could go home with the smug satisfaction of knowing he’d saved my life. It would be just like those corny anti-smoking ads we do, where all you have to do is tell somepony that smoking’s unhealthy and they’re struck with some sort of life-changing epiphany. I took all that away from him. “Yeah, I know. So what?” The look on his face was priceless. “B-But… why?” he stuttered, taken aback. “You should quit. It’s dangerous, both for you and others, and it increases the likelihood of-” “I said I knew, Lightning. Is there anything else?” “But… if you knew, you wouldn’t be a smoker.” “Actually, knowing makes me an informed smoker.” I took a long drag from my cigarette. “But still a smoker.” “But that’s…” He was struggling to find a way of calling me stupid without actually doing so, and I couldn’t really blame him for either side of the conundrum. Sure, smoking’s dumb, but calling me dumb… most ponies figured it bad form to call your boss stupid to her face. “That doesn’t make sense,” he eventually declared. “You really ought to quit. Smoking kills.” It’d been a long day, what with interviewing potentials and all, and I really didn’t feel like getting into a debate. “The only thing smoking kills is time.” It was the kind of assertion that bewildered the hay out of ponies who’d never heard it before, and Lightning was no exception. “Now, do you have anything else, or are you going to let me kill myself in peace?” His eyes became the size of dinner plates and his jaw practically hit the ground. “N-n-no, ma’am. No. I…” He sped off, apparently intimidated at my dark tone, and took towards the locker rooms. I ashed my cigarette and smirked. Being Captain of the Wonderbolts isn’t always the most wonderful thing in Equestria, but there are some perks. A lot of perks, actually, and not least amongst them is the prospect of jerking around the newbies. Most of the team knows that they can talk to me like they talk to anypony else, and that’s just the way I want it, but it’s occasionally fun to scare the feathers out of the newer members. Sure, sure, it’s a rotten thing to do, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect. I watched the next couple of ‘Bolts finish up the day’s regimen and head to the locker rooms. A few of them swung by to get my input and advice, but most didn’t bother. The team was in pretty good form altogether, although Surprise had been goofing off and Fleetfoot was getting cocky. I gave each of them a piece of my mind (separately, of course), and sent them off to shower and change. I was just taking the last few pulls off my cig when my XO showed up, led towards me by a very worried-looking Lightning Streak. “See!” the younger pony declared, thrusting an accusatory hoof towards me. “It’s like I said!” “This…” Soarin rolled his eyes at me but directed his words towards the younger pegasus. “Hey Light, why don’t you head back and shower up, and I’ll… huh… I’ll speak to the Cap’ about all this, ‘aight?” He had to wave a hoof at the other stallion when nothing happened. “Seriously, man, you’re done here; head out. We can talk about this tomorrow.” Lightning Streak could tell when he was being shut down, so to speak, and he didn’t like it. Such was the nature of hotshots – they thought they knew everything. “But sir, she-” This time it was my turn to do an eye-roll, but Soarin was good enough to say my bit so that I didn’t have to – he really was a great executive officer. “I know, and you did the right thing. I’m not mad at you and you’re not going to be punished, we just have to talk about this.” The subtle way he emphasized the word ‘we’ made it clear that he was referring to me and him alone, but Lighting was far too green to tell. “In the meantime, you should go home and try not to worry.” “But-” Soarin interrupted. It would’ve perfectly normal for him, except that he used his ‘authoritative voice’, as he called it, which he absolutely hated doing. “Second Lieutenant Streak, go home and try not to worry.” “…Yessir,” Streak said with the reluctant but subservient tone of a pony who’d never faced real punishment. He saluted and turned tail. “Have a good day, sir.” Soarin watched the younger stallion until Streak had gone back inside and there was nopony else around; then he turned to me. “So, I was churnin’ through the paperwork for that show next week, and you’ll never guess what poor li’l Light comes running to me about,” he said, his tone exactly as irate as propriety allowed. “He’s telling me that you’re suicidal, and he doesn’t know who else he can go to.” It should’ve been ‘whom else’, but whether that was a facet of my XO’s account or the actual words Streak used, it was impossible to tell. Not that it really mattered – it was only grammar, after all. Whatever the case, the situation was funny enough to merit a dark chuckle. “Hmmph. Well, I don’t think I’m suicidal, but that probably doesn’t say much. I mean, if I were planning on killing myself I’d probably lie about it to the folks who’d try to stop me.” The smirk came unbidden to my face. “What do you think, Soarin? Am I searching for the sweet, sweet release of death?” To his infinite credit, Soarin actually laughed aloud, and he was a pony entirely unable to be disingenuous. To the opposite end, however, his answer pushed the bounds of propriety rather further than most ponies were willing to take them with me. “No more than me, Spits, but I don’t see anypony coming to you about my issues.” I considered bringing up that incident, but I thought better of it before my mouth started moving. He was in a program now, after all, and he’d been sober for eight, almost nine months straight. Besides, this conversation was about me, not him. “I suppose you’re right,” I admitted, grinding out my cigarette in the pocket ashtray I normally kept with me. “Do you want to say your piece?” “Nah.” He shrugged, feigning apathy as best he could. “You’re free to do what you want.” Soarin and I had discussed this issue many, many, times in the past, and we both knew that there was no point to adding another argument to our score. “But you know… I’d appreciate it if you were less… extreme with the new members. Most of them are just out of school, and none of them know you well enough to recognize when you’re joking.” Soarin scoffed, although he was careful not to target his derision at me. “Lightning’s going to be watching you like crazy from now on, you know, and even if he doesn’t talk to the rest of the team, me and Chaps are going to be seeing him again.” “Tch.” I stuffed the cigarette butt into my ashtray and slid the ashtray back into a pocket on my flightsuit. “He should talk to the rest of the team; they’ll tell him what for, and that’ll be that.” “He could go to the recruits.” Soarin was referring to the ponies that weren’t full Wonderbolts – provisionals and prospectives who had yet to prove themselves both capable and trustworthy. “And at that point it’ll hit the media faster than a unicorn in a library, you know.” I did know, but I also knew that talking to the recruits was something the colt wouldn’t do. “Not a chance in hay. It’d be too close to frat in his mind, and Streak’s too much of a goody four shoes to risk that kind of mark.” If I’d thought anypony else could see us, I might’ve refrained from rolling my eyes. “No, the most he’ll do is write his mom about how worried he is about his CO, because I’m so cavalier about my well-being despite being a national asset and vital to Equestria’s well-being.” “Somepony’s feeling extra-full of herself today,” Soarin snarked. “I suppose the Princess finally responded to your request?” “I’m too important to retire, apparently, although it was put a lot more eloquently than that.” The memory was enough to make me pull my pack of cigarettes back from my flightsuit’s pocket and grab a fresh one, fresh being a relative term. My XO gave me the king of dirty looks as I lit up, but his tone never reflected it. “Are you really surprised? She thinks the world of you.” “Sure, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” I acknowledged with a shrug. “You know, when my oath said that I served at Her pleasure, I don’t think I actually realized what that meant.” “The ‘Her pleasure’ part, or the ‘service’ part?” I started laughing, only to have it quickly devolve into a bout of labored coughing. Ignoring the scowl which appeared on Soarin’s face in response to my coughing, I managed to recover and admit, “Both, you know.” The scowl I got “Nopony knows what they’re getting into when they sign up.” Soarin punctuated his words with a snort, and one far more genial than mine would have been. “It’s just the nature of the beast.” “Yeah.” I turned half my cigarette to ash in one drag, and almost immediately regretted it. It just wasn’t an efficient way to smoke, and the things were getting more expensive every year. “Still.” I guess he knew what I meant, because Soarin just sat on his haunches and echoed my words back at me. “Yeah. Still.” We stayed like that while I finished my second cigarette – he staring out into the distance and myself puffing away at the filter. There was nothing else that needed much saying between us, I suppose. When I finally gave up on cigarette number two, the only ‘Bolts left in the air were done with the day’s regimen and the day was getting later than most of us enjoyed. I ashed the cig, stuffed it in my ashtray with its sister, and turned tail. “Have a good evening, Spits.” “You too, Soarin. See you tomorrow.”