3. Meetings Are Inflicted.
As the command crew ascended various finely-carved staircases, Ditzy explained to her guests that much of the palace, especially the catacombs, had been carved out of the living rock aeons ago… the rest of the palace having been built from the displaced stone. That alone was impressive enough. But their guide went on to explain that the government had continued to use the same system, unbroken, for thousands of years: a diarchy of rulers, one overseeing the day and the other with sovereignty over night.
“And these two queens who rule over so much of your world… are they as beautiful as yourself?” Kirk asked her with a smile.
Ditzy blushed prettily, then continued her narrative, explaining that Equestria had been ruled by the same two mares throughout that time, ever since their arrival from beyond the stars so long ago.
“But yes, they are pargons of beauty,” she said. “Ages and times will come and go, but only the Two Sisters are forever.”
“Spock, are you hearing this?” Kirk marveled.
“I am, Captain,” the science officer affirmed. “Indeed, with the luxury of observing the Equestrian royalty within their own adopted environment, it is possible that we may gain greater understanding of such beings as Apollo, Trelane, Lucien, and others.”
“Yes, because our encounters with them all went so well,” McCoy grumbled.
“Oh, I don’t know, Bones,” Kirk grinned. “Lucien wasn’t so bad…”
McCoy shot him an amused glance. “You know, I thought you two kind of clicked.”
Kirk tried to look innocent. “Why Doctor McCoy, whatever do you mean?”
“I believe the good doctor is insinuating that you and the First Tempter, also known as the Great Deceiver and the Seducer, may have been kindred spirits, Captain,” Spock supplied.
Kirk rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Spock,”
Spock waited a beat, then added conversationally, “You did seem to get on rather well.”
“Thank you, Mister Spock.”
The Vulcan contemplated for a moment, then went on, “In fact, I was rather surprised that we have not heard from him since. After all, the comradery that you and the Devil shared had seemed—”
Kirk covered his face with his hands. “Yes, thank you, Mister Spock, and good night.”
“Anyway, we’re here,” Ditzy broke in with a chuckle.
The stairs ended in a doorway that opened into a massive hall, replete with ornate stained glass and intricately carved walls. At the far end of the hall was a set of double doors, immense, golden, and engraved with countless ornate swirls and designs. They covered an entrance easily twenty feet tall and half that much in width. To either side, heavily armored guard ponies stood at attention, unwavering.
Waving a hoof towards the massive portal, Ditzy pronounced, “Gentlebeings, please allow me to present you to Princess Celestia, Lady of Day and Co-Ruler of Equestria.”
The mammoth doors opened, allowing them admittance to the throne room. The lines of guard ponies to either side of the long crimson carpet were obviously ornamental: the creature sitting upon the dais exuded such waves of power that one could hardly imagine her being endangered by any weapon conventional to her world.
She nodded elegantly as they entered, amethyst eyes measuring them through the lens of millennia, her mane and tail continually undulating like the tendrils of an anemone dancing in the caressing current of a polychromatic sea. She had the horn of a unicorn and the wings of an Isis, her royal crown and throne registering to the aliens almost as an afterthought; a goddess clad in the trappings of a mere queen.
As they entered the throne room, a unicorn mare beside the doors read off a scroll in a courtly voice, “”Presenting: Royal Diplomat Ditzy Doo; Captain James T. Kirk; Science Officer Spock; and Ship’s Chirurgeon Doctor McCoy.”
Ditzy dropped into a courtly bow, and the others followed suit.
“Rise, please, all of you,” said Celestia with a gentle smile. “This is cause for great celebration. It has been too long since our world had visitors.”
“You are too kind, your Highness,” said Kirk.
“Not at all,” she rejoined as she rose. “Ditzy, you’ll be joining us as well, I hope?”
The pegasus grinned.
“I’d be happy to, Your Highness!” she bounced.
“Good,” Celestia nodded, still smiling. “Let us adjourn, then, to the banquet hall.”
As the princess walked past the four of them, Ditzy (still bouncing) gave forth a “Yay!” and began to follow. The humans exchanged puzzled looks - Spock giving the merest of shrugs - and then also followed suit.
Kirk’s mind ran through dozens of possibilities. As captain of a starship, he was of course a diplomat as much as a commander. But thus far, everything had been rather abrupt, and it was difficult to tell exactly how best to respond.
Hoping to gain some insight, he leaned over to the diplomat of his immortal hostess to inquire. But as they passed through the great doors again, she only whispered to him, “I hope you like cake.”
Somehow, that was not helpful.
The feasting table was easily thirty feet long, and seemed to have been carved from a single piece of deep brown oak. It stood in the center of its own hall, surrounded by tapestries and serpentine archways, the centerpiece of a dazzling display of art created from gold, marble, gems fine cloth and wood.
Upon the table there were, in fact, a great many confections laid out… far more than any mere mortal might ever consume. However, many of these had been placed towards the head of the table, where the Diarch of Day sat, so that was of little concern.
In addition to the assorted platters and bowls of cakes, pies, iced creams and pastries, there were also any number of fruit and vegetable dishes cooked to perfection in various combinations, as well as salads, soups, and simple fresh produce. Rather than a multi-course meal, the enormous table was set out as a giant smorgasbord. Celestia motioned her guests to sit where they wished to either side of the gargantuan board, and they arrayed themselves two to a side.
“Please,” she smiled as she daintily scooted a large ice cream cake closer, “help yourselves.”
After a moment, the crew and their guide began passing various dishes around. Meanwhile, half a dozen servers filled drinks and aided in refilling plates again and again.
Kirk found the apple wine to be an amazing accompaniment to most every dish, while Spock drank water and McCoy happily attacked his chocolate malt. Ditzy, for her part, enjoyed something simply called ‘lemon fizz,’ which seemed to be something akin to a carbonated lemonade.
It was, as Spock observed, a fascinating combination of formal and informal dining, one which encouraged both conversation and appetite. Chatting became almost inevitable, conversation meandering freely between food, culture, personal interests and back to food again...
“Wait a minute,” McCoy frowned, lifting the silver lid on a newly-delivered platter, “Are those… hamburgers?”
Ditzy shook her golden mane. “Hayburgers. What’s ham?”
“It’s made from pigs,” McCoy answered. “Well, sort of. Though hamburgers don’t really have… um…”
His voice trailed off as the grey pegasus stared at him in shock.
“Your people… eat pigs?” she gasped.
“Not anymore. I mean, not exactly.” McCoy cleared his throat uneasily. “It’s, uh, kind of a long story, actually.”
“Our species – humanity – evolved as omnivores,” Kirk explained to both mares. “For most of our planet’s history our ancestors tamed and used animals for food and raw materials. But technology has allowed us to move beyond all that, including the synthesizing of meat for the last several centuries.”
Princess Celestia nodded as she reached for another strudel, the cake and several pies a la mode having already been consumed. “Mmm. Your technology must be advanced, indeed.”
Then, appraising them all, she asked, “Are you all of the same species, then? Ponies have three distinct tribes: Earth Pony, Pegasus, and Unicorn, each with their own physical traits as well as cultural traditions. Are you of different tribes of humanity?”
“Doctor McCoy and myself are human,” Kirk answered. “Mister Spock is a vulcan, which is a different species entirely.”
Spock steepled his fingers. “That being said, for the sake of complete accuracy I will point out that while I am Vulcan by identity, biologically I am half human.”
The princess nodded again, this time more slowly.
“It’s never easy, growing up between two worlds,” she said.
Spock nodded as well, his face impassive.
“Indeed.”
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle stood on the side of the road, looking at Scootaloo’s house. All the lights were out, the door still closed and locked. The windows were dark, the house silent.
“It seems so empty,” Scootaloo sighed.
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle agreed. “And lonely.”
There was a pause, then they both sighed in unison.
“Well, plenty of school fillies come home to empty houses, right?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Scootaloo looked down. “Sure. Their parents work, or whatever.”
“Perfectly normal.” Sweetie said, also looking down.
“Happens all the time.” Scootaloo agreed.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
After a moment, Sweetie Belle added, “Part of the whole experience.”
“Uh-huh.”
The wind blew some leaves around them, then subsided again. For several moments both fillies stood in the early night’s shadows, tails and ears down.
Then, Scootaloo’s ears went up slightly.
“Then their parents come home, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle said, brightening slightly. “Yeah, they do.”
“You want to just skip to that part?”
“Yeah!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed.
As one, the two fillies rushed to Scootaloo’s front door. There was a mad scramble for the keys, both of them giggling and laughing all the while. Then, they had the door open, and they were inside.
Slamming the door behind them, they galloped up the stairs into Scootaloo’s room.
Sweetie Belle dove for the full-length mirror opposite her cousin’s bed.
“Dibs!” she cheered.
“Hey, no fair!” her cousin laughed as she sped right behind her. “My house, my rules!”
There was another giggling mess as the two of them tried to both squeeze their way through the mystic portal at once. For several seconds they were stuck, wrestling, halfway in and halfway out the rippling glass. Then, there was a sound like a cork firing from a champagne bottle, and they were through.
Their old room was just as they had left it. Most of their personal things - including their school uniforms, posters, and a few old toys - they had taken with them to their new homes, of course. But in their place had been added two magical mirrors, tesseract portals of tremendous magical power. Those portals connected to the pair of recently restored houses in Ponyville where the two had decided to stay. And it was through one of these that the cousins finally burst through, still laughing.
They shed their uniforms immediately, galloping through the wooden door and into the Royal Wing connecting the various Rooms of Personal Import, their voices joining in unison as they ran down the ancient candle-lit hallway.
“We’re ho-ome!”
At the hall’s end, it branched into a T-intersection, leading further into Canterlot Palace. Around one of its corners, a familiar white unicorn with ebon mane happened to approach.
“Raven!” they cheered.
The mare grinned, giving a brief bow. “Your Graces,” she said. “How was your first day at a public school?”
Screeching to a halt in front of her, both fillies opened their mouths at once, then paused.
“Mixed,” Scootaloo said.
“Miss Cheerilee is very nice,” Sweetie Belle said.
“And smart,” Scootaloo added. “She’s really good at what she does.”
“Oh, and I think I met my first bully!” Sweetie added.
“Well, that does sound exciting!” Raven said. “Was anypony hurt?”
Scootaloo sighed, looking down. “No.”
“But he probably didn’t deserve it, anyway,” Sweetie Belle said, giving Scootaloo a reproving look.
“Well, then, you’re using restraint,” Raven said approvingly. “That’s certainly commendable. Is this something the princesses will be aware of?”
The fillies blinked, looking at one another uncertainly.
“Well, let’s assume you didn’t tell me, then,” Raven said contentedly. “At least until you’ve decided.”
As the three of them began making their way down the labyrinthine hallways, Raven added, “Your timing is perfect, by the way. Dinner is just being served…”
Scootaloo cocked her head. “Already?”
“Well, there are guests,” Raven said. “And I believe Princess Celestia was hoping you would visit sometime tonight, so dinner is being served courseless.”
“This soon? But this was our first day!” Scootaloo cried.
“Our moms don’t think we can’t handle this, do they?” Sweetie Belle asked with huge eyes.
“We’re fifteen!” Scootaloo pronounced, puffing out her chest.
“We’re mares now!” Sweetie Belle added, also puffing.
“We can take care of ourselves!”
“We’ve totally got this!”
“And no one doubts that, Your Graces, I assure you,” Raven replied in her most soothing voice. “Everypony within the palace is well aware of your maturity. The princesses simply missed you. That’s all.”
“Oh. Well, okay,” Sweetie Belle nodded, unpuffing slightly.
“I guess that’s alright then,” Scootaloo agreed, her own puff deflating somewhat.
Then, the older mare seemed to consider something.
“Still,” she said. “Sometimes parents do have trouble letting go, even when they know intellectually their foals are completely grown. It might be best if Your Graces were to visit at least somewhat often, just for their sakes. You know, so they don’t get lonely. You know how the princesses can be.”
Both fillies nodded.
“Yeah, we can do that,” Scootaloo said.
Then, Sweetie Belle shot her cousin a grin.
“Race you!” And she was off like a white and purple shot.
“Hey, no fair indoor racing!” Scootaloo cried as she gave chase. “You know it’s hard for me to corner…!”
As the two Royal Offspring vanished around another corner, Raven allowed herself a slight smile.
“Yes,” she said. “I thought perhaps you could.”
Meanwhile, conversation had continued to wander across a variety of topics at the royal banquet table. While the princess was not familiar with the technology that the Federation used, she was, interestingly, quite well-versed with the principles behind it. Nor was such understanding limited to just the diarchy, such matters being freely available in the Equestrian educational system.
Ditzy Doo, in fact, possessed the highest degrees available in both physics and astronomy. Apparently, such subjects were as available among ponies as studies in language, art, and thaumaturgy.
Yet, somehow, the ponies’ technology remained as primitive as the aliens had been assured before landing.
“So, you never had an industrial revolution,” Kirk wondered. “But you have other aspects of a culture far more advanced.”
Ditzy laid one ear flat. “I’m sorry, a what revolution?”
“A time period in human history, and that of many other species, in which internal combustion engines utilizing the burning of wood and fossil fuels allow for mass production, mass transit, and automation,” Spock explained.
“Well, that sounds dangerous. No offense,” Ditzy added, shaking her mane. “But even one snoring dragon can render an entire countryside uninhabitable. I can only imagine what burning that much wood would be like, for that long.”
McCoy’s head snapped up. Wait. Dragons? There were dragons now?
“Besides,” Ditzy continued as McCoy gave his captain another glare, “how would the ecology support that kind of continual destruction of trees?”
“We do have mass transportation, though,” Celestia acknowledged, “Including trains, air ships, and occasionally teleportation and tesseracts. But within short distances – say, twenty miles or so – most ponies prefer to walk or run anyway.”
“Mass production was suggested a few centuries ago,” Ditzy mused. “I remember reading about it. But it never caught on. Really, why would you want something identical to what everyone else has?”
“And as I think of it, automation did start being used, a few years ago,” Celestia recalled. “There was a major breakthrough in stone and clay golem creation and control, not far from here. We might tour the plantation where they’re used later on, if you like.”
Smiling, Kirk rose and gave a small bow.
“Ladies, you have managed in just a few phrases to demonstrate both the shortcomings of an entire technological age of humanity, and how your own culture side-stepped them completely. My hat’s off to you.”
“Well, let’s not assume our own is without its shortcomings,” Ditzy said. “I’d love to compare the differences in the developments of our cultures sometime… Your Highness?”
As Ditzy had been speaking, Princess Celestia’s ears had begun twitching. Then, the Lady of Day smiled.
“Gentlebeings,” she said. “May I introduce my—”
The doors on the hall’s far end burst open with a sound like a giant using a brass kettle as a gong.
“…daughter and niece…”
The two fillies rolled into the room in a ball of orange, white, and purple, wrestling gleefully as they spilled onto the floor.
“I win!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Uh-huh!”
“Oh, um…” Sweetie Belle looked up at her mother, who was, she now suddenly recalled, hosting an interplanetary diplomatic affair.
“…Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo,” the princess finished.
“Oops,” both fillies said at once.
Then, Sweetie Belle looked at the aliens. All bipeds, all brightly dressed… and all of them smiling.
Okay, we didn’t just screw anything up, she thought. Well, okay, we kinda did, but not irreparably. We can make our apologies, be polite, and no harm done.
We can salvage this, she assured herself. Get into royal mode, Sweetie. Time to fix what we almost broke.
Immediately, Sweetie Belle teleported to the side of Princess Celestia, landing in a stance of dignity and grace. But even as the young unicorn opened her mouth to speak, Scootaloo suddenly froze, her eyes growing wide, drawing in a slow breath of excitement. The orange pegasus stared at the three aliens for a moment, before bursting into action with a gleeful cry.
“DADDY!”
Immediately, Kirk’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, his body falling into the instinctive half-crouch found in all cornered prey.
Then, as the orange-and-purple comet seared through the air towards them, he whirled to face Doctor McCoy in a mix of confusion and horror, a man beset.
McCoy, for his part, simply took a step back with his malted, satisfied to let nature take its course.
“Bones! You can’t leave me like this!”
“Sorry, Jim,” the doctor replied contentedly between chocolaty slurps. “Looks like it’s time to face the music.”
The impact when they met shook the chandeliers. And for several moments, McCoy could only stare. Celestia and Sweetie Belle stared as well, then looked at one another, then again at the scene before them.
“Daddy!” Scootaloo cried, her eyes closed in joy as she simultaneously snuggled and bounced against her target’s torso. “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, DADDY!”
Kirk caught McCoy’s eye, shook his head helplessly. Never had he been so completely flabbergasted.
For his part, Spock simply considered the filly in his lap, as he carefully put his arms around her to make sure she didn’t fall off.
“Oh, I’ve dreamed of this for so long...!” she gushed.
Celestia and Sweetie Belle cocked their heads at identical angles, considering the implications of what they were seeing.
“Well,” an unmoving Princess Celestia said at last, “that certainly answers several questions.”
“Maybe for you,” Sweetie Belle deadpanned, also all but motionless.
Kirk, meanwhile, could only stare. “Bones... I...” he managed, “I... honestly have no words...”
But then, suddenly McCoy whirled on him, a mad gleam in his eye.
“Oh,” he hissed, “I have a word for this.”
Then, spreading his arms out as if to encompass all the world, he cried out, “This is... FASCINATING!”
“Mom told me all about you when I was old enough,” Scootaloo went on happily, “how you met while she was on diplomatic envoy to the Crystal Empire, and you were on a scouting mission from the stars...”
Kirk was scarcely listening, his mind assailed by images of Spock leaning against a stack of pony kegs, wearing a ‘Party Naked’ T-shirt.
McCoy, meanwhile, had taken to revolving around the room with his arms outspread as though he were in The Sound of Music, shouting, “I mean this whole thing is so goddamn fascinating!”
“…you both knew you couldn’t stay, so you made the most of the time you had. Oh, the romantic week you spent together...”
Images of a drunken Spock, piña colada in hand and singing karaoke into a mic while surrounded by pony groupies, danced before Kirk’s mind. He frowned slightly at the ballad unexpectedly drifting through his imagination. Who was Bilbo Baggins, anyway?
“No, this makes perfect sense,” said Celestia. “See, she inherited his tiny wings…”
“Mom, please stop talking.”
“…she told me how you played your Vulcan lute for her,” Scootaloo went on, “and how she kept the moon full for you the whole time, until duty finally called you away again …”
Still rotating in demonic glee, McCoy shouted with the giddy fierceness of Rylian tengu, “Don’t you think this is the most fascinating thing you’ve ever heard of?!?”
Kirk shook his head desperately, but the image remained: Spock, lazing naked on an old couch in an apartment somewhere, dignified as always. Black light posters hung on the wall above him while he cannon-balled between a hookah and flagons of pony ale, countless brightly-colored mares lounging across his lap and around the room, dozing in a post-orgy glow...
“…and now you’re finally back! Oh, we’ve missed you so much!” Scootaloo cried. “Oh, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, DADDY!”
“In fact, this whole planet is so FUCKING FASCINATING--!”
Almost casually, Spock reached out to where McCoy had revolved himself, grasping the meeting point of the doctor’s neck and shoulder. An instant later, he was gently lowering the physician, one-handed, into a nearby chair.
Scootaloo paused in her bouncing long enough to examine the old human curiously.
“Is your friend going to be alright?”
Spock scarcely spared him a sideways glance. “He’ll be fine.”
Just then, the door opened again, allowing Luna to wander in.
“Oh, good, I didn’t miss dinner. Is all well? I heard a commotion and--”
Her eyes grew wide.
”Spock!”
...and then with a burst of blue, suddenly Spock was being embraced by two ponies, both with their eyes squeezed shut in pure joy.
At that moment, Spock had a choice. Most of the options before him, through either action or inaction, involved deeply hurting the two mares who were hugging him so determinedly.
The logical action, of course, did not.
Spock reached out and, somewhat uncertainly, hugged Luna and Scootaloo back.
For his part, Kirk had finally managed to regain at least some of his composure. Reaching out, he snagged a golden goblet and refilled it with yellow wine, giving his Vulcan friend a conspiratorial grin as he rested one foot on the golden bench they shared.
“Well, Spock,” he said before drinking, “it looks like you’re a family man now.”
“So it would seem,” Spock replied.
And sitting there in the great dining hall, beset by affectionate ponies, with Bones unconscious nearby and the native queen looking on with satisfaction, it might have seemed to anyone else that Spock had been somewhat railroaded into his current position. Or, even that he was merely humoring the native species until his inevitable departure.
But Kirk had been a friend of the Vulcan for years now. And to his discerning eye, it really didn’t seem as though the situation displeased Spock at all.
Apple Bloom reclined in her private bathing pool, surrounded by the ancient stone ruins, the moon shining down on her from above.
Snails would recover eventually, though he had a broken foreleg and several fractures. He’d also hit his head, but to her mind that should have little effect overall. And anyway, she had far more important matters on her mind.
Oh, Sweetie Belle, she sighed, languidly arcing herself through the warmed waters. Oh, that you only knew. If only you even suspected…
Then, another face flashed before her eyes, unwanted.
Scootaloo.
Apple Bloom scowled. She’d overcome obstacles before in her young life. But never a rival for love. And now that she had one, she would brook no interference.
‘It’s complicated,’ they’d said.
She snorted. Sure. She knew what that meant.
Still, while the matter was vexing at the moment, Apple Bloom knew from experience that such difficulties would not last long. They never did. At least, not for her.
When the meteor had destroyed the train her parents had been riding on, Granny had raised her as best she could. And she’d tried to continue managing the farm at the same time. But she’d been an old mare, with little real business sense, and the times had changed. And the Rich family had started moving in like the wolves they were.
By the time Apple Bloom had been seven, the Rich family had all but owned Sweet Apple Acres. Apple Bloom had been playing with Diamond Tiara most of her life by then, taking the barbs and jeers from mother and daughter alike as best she could.
Spoiled and Diamond had both complimented her with poisoned praise on many occasions back then, complimenting her for knowing her place. And she had taken it. For years, she’d swallowed it down, smiling as best she could. But she hadn’t been demurring to them, as Spoiled Rich had praised her for so often.
She’d been studying them.
By the time she was nine, Apple Bloom had learned all she needed to know about her enemies and their business. Continuing her charade, she began studying geomancy, the oft-overlooked magical art which was most powerful when practiced by an Earth Pony. Then, she’d branched into the art of crafting golems, earning a royal commendation for her ground-breaking research at the age of ten.
By the time she’d turned twelve, Rich Industries had owned Sweet Apple Acres outright.
By the time she’d turned thirteen, Apple Bloom had owned Rich Industries.
Now, Sweet Apple Acres was a thriving plantation, worked by automatons of her own creation and design, overseen in turn by her fellow Apples as well as a few hirelings. She’d made certain to offer Filthy and Spoiled Rich employment, when times had gotten hard for them. Nothing with too much authority or influence, of course. Nothing that offered any chance for sabotage.
Just enough that they knew their place.
Satisfied, she pulled herself out of the perfumed water. With her family enemies destroyed, their daughter and her schoolyard rival having run away and begun a life of piracy, Apple Bloom’s life had become one of perpetual comfort and satisfaction.
Her eyes narrowed.
Until now, she thought.
Still, Scootaloo should pose little real difficulty. Oh, she had speed and strength galore – Snails had been very clear on that – but it wasn’t only unicorns and pegasi who had magical power. And if little Scootaloo didn’t know that, Apple Bloom would be only too happy to teach her.
Apple Bloom laughed then, soul bared to the full moon, giving full vent to her sinister delight…
In the mansion nearby, a light turned on.
“Apple Bloom!” an ancient voice yelled.
In a millisecond, Apple Bloom spun and faced the house, eyes wide.
“Yes, Granny!” she answered, snapping to attention.
“Yew bein’ evil out there?” the crone demanded.
“No, ma’am!”
“Well, alright then.”
The light turned off again. A moment later, snoring could be heard from within.
Apple Bloom’s face once again twisted into a mask of sinister delight as she ascended the stone steps towards Sweet Apple Mansion.
Soon, it really will be Sweet Apple Mansion, she thought. Sweetie Belle an’ Apple Bloom. Together. Forever.
Once Ah have destroyed Scootaloo.
Apple Bloom laughed then, as quietly as she could, her soul bared to the moon, giving as full vent to her sinister delight as she could without waking up her granny…
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Well now. That's intriguing...
I approve wholeheartedly.
Oh dear, you broke Bones.
The greatest little hobbit of them all. Obviously.
I do love Apple Bloom's backstory. It's absurd enough to very nearly make sense. As opposed to Scootaloo's parentage, which is just delightfully absurd.
Looking forward to more, even if we don't get to see Sulu go mad with bloodlust.
So... Much... Pain...
More?