• Published 26th Jun 2014
  • 1,466 Views, 34 Comments

Scoot Camp - theNDinspector

It's been a long and hard journey, but Scootaloo has finally done it. She can fly and is following in her idol's hoofsteps by going to the Wonderbolt Academy. Will she soar high in the sky, or crash hard under the pressure?

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Day 1: Emergency Maneuvers

‘Wow, Blue Yonder wasn’t kidding about how tight these things were,’ Scootaloo thought as she headed back to the Eastern Field—now wearing her cadet flight-suit.

It didn’t restrict her movement at all—especially since all of her legs and back end of her body were left bare—but it definitely wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. The worst part was the collar on the neck that ended half-way up the face. It was itchy and a plain nuisance, but she had to wear it.

“Hey Scootaloo,” Silverwings said as she approached Section D. “That outfit really brings out your eyes.”

Blue Yonder immediately kicked him in the side, “What did I say?!”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Scootaloo said referring to Silverwings comment.

For more times than she cared to admit, Scootaloo had been on the receiving end of Rarity’s fashion expertise—usually due to the cunning of her best friends. Scootaloo seriously doubted that the particular shade of blue and yellow making up the training outfit complimented her orange coat or her purple mane and eyes. It could be worse, though. It might have been green. Rarity would probably have had a heart-attack if she saw that color on her.

Attention!” The voice of Major Soarin commanded.

The light-blue pegasus officer seemed to come out of nowhere. It was like he could go anywhere or disappear unnoticed. But then again, so could that one lieutenant from earlier. If she didn’t know better, Scootaloo might have thought that the Wonderbolts were also ninjas.

“All right cadets,” Soarin said. “Before we move onto our special maneuvers training for today, we are going to do some exercises again. Now drop and give me twenty!”

Some ponies groaned as all of the cadets got to the ground and started doing some wing push-ups. They repeated a few of the same stretches and exercises from earlier that day. There was also a new and rather bizarre one; a breathing exercise that made heavy use of the diaphragm. It both looked and sounded stupid, but apparently it was a necessary skill to keep ponies from blacking out during certain flight maneuvers which induced a heavy G-load.

“That’s enough cadets!” Soarin said, to the relief of many. “Now, if you’ll all follow me, we’ll begin the special training for the day.”

A bit relieved, Scootaloo got up and followed Soarin with the other ponies to the far end of the field. Once there they found a large tarp draped over something and a camera crew. Two other ponies were also waiting for them: Colonel Spitfire and that mustached lieutenant from the mess hall.

‘Gah, what’s his name?’ Scootaloo wondered.

“All right newbies, listen up!” Spitfire shouted, snapping Scootaloo back to the moment at hoof. “The Wonderbolts are the fastest and best precision flyers in the world, but spinouts can still happen. When they do, a Wonderbolt must be able to recover quickly. Otherwise something far worse can happen. That is why you are here today.”

She nodded to the lieutenant, who then removed the tarp; revealing the most bizarre thing that Scootaloo had ever seen—and that’s saying something. It was some sort of machine. A large circle painted with a green and purple spiral made up the bulk of the structure. Located at the center and edge of the circle was a gear system. The larger gear at the edge had a pony-sized slot across it. There was also a control station with a couple of levers and three distinct settings as indicated by pictures: a tortoise, a hare, and a pegasus skull with crossed lightning bolts.

“This is the Dizzitron,” Spitfire said referring to the contraption. “It’s going to make you very dizzy, I repeat, very dizzy. Your task is to try to recover and fly straight again; as soon as possible. Once you have recovered, you must come in for a smooth landing. Now, who’s first?”

Scootaloo and a few other ponies raised their hooves in the air. Spitfire looked at them all, like she was searching for something.

You, Funny-guy!” Spitfire shouted while pointing at Silverwings. “You’re up!”

Silverwings—who was focused on another mare next to him—snapped to attention. In a moment, he realized what had happened and then flew over to the Dizzitron, nestling himself into the slot.

“Ready?” Spitfire asked.

“Yes…Ma’am,” Silverwings replied, adjusting his flight goggles.

Spitfire looked to her subordinates. Lieutenant What’s-his-name was positioned at the controls and Soarin had his clipboard at the ready. Spitfire, meanwhile, pulled out her stop watched and turned back to Silverwings.

“GO!” Spitfire commanded.

The Dizzitron started up. It was almost dizzying just to watch as the purple and green spirals seemed to slither towards the center. The effect was hypnotic as Scootaloo’s eyes followed the gear containing Silverwings.

“RELEASE!” Spitfire shouted without warning and started her stop watch.

Suddenly, the machine stopped, tossing Silverwings off the mountain. Scootaloo watched as he went head over hooves into the horizon. Soon, he straightened up his flight path and turned back. His landing was a little wobbly, but he made it back safely.

“Ten seconds,” Spitfire said, stopping the clock. “Not bad…for a newbie. Who’s next?”

Two more ponies went, each clocking about sixteen and twenty seconds apiece. Apparently this was the more common timeframe for cadets. As Spitfire called out the times, Soarin recorded it on the clipboard. Up next was Lavender.

“Ugh, can we clean this thing before I go on?” Lavender complained.

Oh, just get in there you PANSY! Scootaloo shouted, before slapping a hoof across her mouth.

Everypony looked at Scootaloo. She got two particularly nasty glares over by the Dizzitron. She immediately regretted her outburst.

‘Oh, crud! Why didn’t I think before I said that?’ Scootaloo thought as she backed away.

Everypony turned their attention back to Lavender as she finally got in the machine. She wasn’t a bad flyer as she came back pretty quickly, all things considered.

“Twelve seconds,” Spitfire said. “Scootaloo! Since you’re so eager to go, YOU’RE UP!

Scootaloo took a grain of salt with those words as she approached the Dizzitron. It was even bigger up close. She positioned herself into the slot and signaled that she was ready.

“GO!” Spitfire commanded.

If the machine was dizzying to look at, it was nothing compared to actually being in it. She felt both a feeling of weightlessness and gravitational pull as she moved in a circular motion inside another circular motion. Scootaloo was now grateful for the breathing exercises earlier and the uncomfortable flight suit—certainly, if she was going around any faster, she would need these things in order to stay conscious. It was almost like being on an extreme roller coaster.

Scootaloo never heard Spitfire shout “release”, but she felt herself be tossed into the air as the machine abruptly stopped. She saw the sky, horizon, ground and sky again in such rapid succession that she could barely tell which way was up or down.

Soon, Scootaloo remembered what Rainbow Dash taught her when she first started to fly. Reaching into the pegasus magic within her, she found her bearings and straightened her course. She turned around and headed for the landing strip as quickly as she could. She slowed down a little before making a perfect landing. She wasn’t even dizzy.

“Eight seconds,” Spitfire declared. “Not bad; not bad at all. Next!

The other cadets cheered as Scootaloo fell back in line—each having some compliment or look of approval as she walked passed. Well, everypony that is, except for one.

The exercise continued until every cadet went on the Dizzitron. Nopony even came close to matching Scootaloo’s time. Blue Yonder was closest by clocking in at nine seconds. Hot Shot might have had a chance if he hadn’t decided to show off as he came in for his landing. The two loops he did affected his time, which ended up being nine-point-five seconds.

Once the last time was recorded, Spitfire called everypony back to attention.

“All right,” she started. “For the rest of the camp you will be working in pairs. You will also be given a rank: one lead pony, and one wingpony. The wingpony will have to follow the lead pony in the training and flight. But the lead pony is responsible for the team. They cannot leave their wingpony behind and should consider their wingpony’s input equal to their own. Your assignments will be posted tomorrow morning on the bulletin board. Major Soarin will supervise the rest of your training this week.”

Major Soarin stepped up and began to address the cadets. “Once you are dismissed, you will be free to do what you please on the compound as long as you follow regulations. Training equipment—like the Dizzitron—will be open for use until dinner, which is served at 1900 hours. After that, you are to return to the barracks and get ready for bed. Lights out is at 2200 hours and you will be wakened at 0600 hours in the morning. Breakfast will be served until 0900 hours. You are to report back to the Eastern Field, Section D at 1000 hours.

“This is your schedule every day. Also, you will have a barracks inspection tomorrow at 1800 hours, so be ready. Company, Dismissed!”

Everypony started talking with each other—whether if it was compliments, how they could improve, or something else. It was a very exciting day. Scootaloo was about to join up with Blue Yonder and Silverwings and see what they should do for the rest of the evening.

SCOOTALOO! LAVENDER!” Spitfire shouted. “A word please!”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Scootaloo turned back and walked back to Spitfire—right next to the last pony she wanted to be with at the moment. Her stomach tightened as she worried about what the fiery commander was going to say.

Spitfire was quiet for a moment. Then she took off her sunglasses. She was even more intimidating now than when she had them on. She was disgusted.

“Scootaloo,” Spitfire said, turning the orange pegasus. “I am not pleased with your comment earlier today about Ms. Lavender. The Wonderbolt Academy is based on integrity and respect for our fellow pony, neither of which you showed today. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated. If I ever hear you say something like that again, you will be out of here faster than Lieutenant Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Scootaloo replied, feeling both anger and guilt—particularly at that last part.

“Lavender,” Spitfire continued, now turning to the purple pegasus. “You need to learn that the Wonderbolt Academy does not conform its cleaning regulations around your desires. You are just going to have to deal with it! Am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Lavender said after hesitating for a moment.

“Good!” Spitfire declared. “Now, I do not want to have any more problems from either of you two. It is a privilege for you to be here. I suggest you make the most of it. Dismissed!”

With that, the two cadets saluted her, turned and made the long trek back to the main compound. Neither of them wanted to look at each other, nor speak to one another. It was a trip made in complete silence.