Rocket Science and Other Foalish Things
The smell of air trapped inside a cardboard box, freshly released, was the scent of joyous acquisition of the mail order variety. The undertones of machine oil and armpit stench of burnt steel completed the joyous bouquet.
"Thanks Derpy!" The little orange pegasus waved, looking up from the box, demented glee on her face that nearly matched the mailmare's own as she winged away to her next stop. Packing peanuts were shifted, the machine extricated, leaving a snowy styrofoam wake as Scootaloo brought her prize inside.
Moments later she was back outside, digging through the box, searching for something and coming up short. "Buck! Where are the instructions?"
Six to eight weeks later a bent up envelope with a patchwork rainbow of tape and different airmail stickers arrived. It's arrival was greeted with less enthusiasm, but considerable relief. She'd spent all the money she'd saved for flight camp on the machine and it had sat idle for want of the six sheets of paper held therein. Three if it was taken into account that one was written in some indiscernible barbarian scribledy-gook language or other. Two if it was considered that she didn't even glance at the cautions and warnings page. It was a jet pack, how dangerous could it be? She wouldn't have even bothered with the instructions save that no mention of the sleek device's fuel source was in either the ad or written on the machine itself.
Now she knew that the fire extinguisher sized tanks fitted to either side of the deceptively small combustion chamber hungered for low grade kerosene, such as a lantern might take.
Flight camp wouldn't have done her a bit of good anyway, she justified, considering it was about improving your flying, whereas she could barely leave the ground thus far. It was her contention that she'd be able to learn more quickly if only she could get airborne without all the complications of taking off under her own power. To feel the wind in her mane and the air currents over her tiny wings she was even willing to risk the vagueries of a full speed landing with a fifty pound, stainless steel hellfire dispenser firmly strapped to her back.
Had she looked over the warnings, their skulls, crossbones and grammatically ill advised number of exclamation points didn't augur well on that point, but there was little enough time to waste on that. Now that she had the infernal thing fueled, she couldn't wait to show it off to the two fillies who'd most understand that the risks were necessary in pursuit of a filly's destiny.
She'd thought about showing it to Rainbow Dash, but couldn't bring herself to do it until she'd mastered it's operation. Heck, half the reason she'd wanted the thing in the first place was to surprise Rainbow Dash on her own doorstep, revealing Flim and Flam's latest mail order marvel on her back all cool and nonchalant-like. More than that, a feeling deep in her guts thrilled at the implied danger of the thing, and despite her daring and reckless reputation, she knew that Rainbow Dash was likely to think poorly of the untested apparatus. Adults have many false conceptions where the safety of foals is concerned and she may go so far as to forbid her from using it. She'd have to log some time with it amongst a less stringently critical audience, so it was off to the Cutie Mark Crusader's clubhouse.
"Ah don't get it. Is it a portable coffee maker?" Apple Bloom orbited the orange pegasus, scrutinizing the three gleaming cylinders strapped to her back in an attempt to discern it's purpose.
"Coffee maker? How do you look at something like this and get coffee maker?" Scootaloo huffed.
"Ah don't know, you said guess, and what with the couple of thermoses stuck together around that there stove pipe, I kinda thought that's what it had to've been. So I'm wrong?"
"So wrong."
"I know!" Sweetiebelle chimed enthusiastically, "It's a magic powered vacuum cleaner! One of those cyclonic ones like Rarity had."
"No, it's not a...wait, had? Didn't she just buy that thing, like, a couple weeks ago?" Scootaloo puzzled.
"Well, yeah, maybe, but look, it's not my fault! Opal's ball of yarn was under the couch and it maybe sucked it up and wrapped it around the motor until it started smoking." Sweetie's ears lay back flat and she gave a sheepish little grin. The incident was still fresh in her mind and a source of considerable embarrassment to her, and strife between her and her sister, even though their parents had promised to buy a new one.
"So...you burnt up the motor?"
"Not right away, I'm not that dumb. But I should have left it alone. When I tried to unwrap the yarn I couldn't get all of it, so I was hoping that if I let it run it would wear it away itself, or something, I don't know, but it seemed to be working right up until it caught fire, then I didn't know what to do, and when I threw water on it something shorted, I guess, because then it wouldn't do anything but sit there and hum when I flipped the switch back and forth." Sweetiebelle nervously explained. "Then I put it back in the closet and hoped she'd think it broke on it's own. I just can't understand how she knew it was me."
"There's a lesson there." Scootaloo nodded.
"Don't mess with things that don't belong to you?" The destructive unicorn filly ventured, her sister had been harping on that one.
"Know when the situation's gotten out of hoof and when to call for help from an adult?" Apple Bloom conjectured, speaking as if she were quoting from a book.
"No." Scootaloo wagged her head in the negative, "Never vacuum. In fact, I'd swear off cleaning all together. It's nothing but asking for trouble."
Sweetiebelle could see the logic in that assertion, it having proven to be the case on past occasions as well. The more industrious earth pony arched her eyebrows and considered debating the merits of that argument, but settled on a more productive avenue. "So if'n it ain't a vaccum nor a coffeemaker then what's it meant to be?"
"Duh, it's a jetpack."
"A what?"
"A jetpack. Haven't you ever seen 'em in the comics and sci fi flicks and all?" She proudly rose to her rear hooves, puffed out her pigeon chest and pointed a forehoof to her own smug grin, "Well yours truly went out and bought a real one."
"Where'd ya get the money fer it?"
"My flight school fund."
A flare of sympathy flared across Apple Bloom's face and she squatted down on her haunches, "Oh, Scootaloo, you've given up? I'm so, sorry, but I 'spect we can all see by now it just ain't meant to be."
"What? No! With this baby I won't need flight school at all, I just strap it on and flip the little switch and off I go. Wait, what'd you mean, not meant to be?" She gave her friend a wicked glare, "You know it's been my dream to join the Wonderbolts, just like Rainbow Dash is going to someday. How could I ever give that up?"
"I always thought you were dreaming of Rainbow Dash more than the Wonderbolts anyway." Sweetiebelle mumbled, a barely audible thought she could have kept to herself and avoided her friend's ire, but now that it was out there she felt she had to respond in earnest, "Well, it's true isn't it? Are you interested in flying because of Rainbow Dash or interested in Rainbow Dash because of flying?"
"Can't it be both?"
"Um, no, I don't think..."
"Whatever, it's not the point anyway. I've got this thing all fueled up and ready, I just wanted you girls to see me in action." Scootaloo sneered and raised her chin up to the sky, "Today's the day. I'm never going to be a flightless bird anymore."
"Right, you'll be a dodo with a firecracker tied to yer back. Sounds like a right solid plan there, Scoots." Applebloom sighed, "If you're really gonna do this, I 'spect we should head on down the road a piece to the old Hayseed place. Ground's a might squishier, bein' a floodplain and all, and there's less there to catch fire if somethin' goes wrong."
Reluctantly Scootaloo took her friend's advice and they shortly found themselves in a field of soy beans as thick and lush as any that had ever poked themselves out of the earth. Nearby the former Hayseed farmhouse sat abandoned, the whole farm having been leased to some out of town concern that managed it. Flanking the farmhouse was a roofless barn, a thirty year old elm grown haphazardly through it, and a clay tile silo rising some thirty yards in the air. The two ground bound fillies were helping Scootaloo cinch her straps and jounce the contraption into place.
On the wrist of her forehoof was a small device that looked like a watch trailing a wire back to the pack itself. It had a single switch upon it, on or off. With preparations complete she nodded, her friends retreated, and for the first momentous time, she flipped it to on.
A sickly cycle of popping and whining started, slowly increasing in volume and frequency. After some thirty seconds of this Apple Bloom hollered over the din, "Are you sure it's safe? I don't think it's workin' right."
"It's fine. It just needs..." Scootaloo was interrupted by unexpected movement as the thrust finally built to usable levels. Her smile blazed even as she stumbled forward, trying to hold back as long as she could so her takeoff would have the greatest thrust possible. The smell of unburnt hydrocarbons and well singed tail hair distracted her for the briefest moment and as she looked back the jet's plume finally swelled to full life. She flared her wings and hopped along the ground, stumbling along, never quite in control, and just as she thought everything was evening out there was a surge of power that twisted her forward around her center of balance. That is to say that she was flipped forward and her muzzle was forcibly driven into the loamy, fertile fields in an undignified manner. Her face plowed a furrow as the machine sputtered and popped and it ended up spinning her in tight circles on the ground before she slapped the switch back to the off position.
She slung off the balky thing and rose, coughing and blowing packed soil from out of her nostrils. She spoke before her friends had the chance, "That was a, um, good attempt, very instructive. I just see a couple things that I need to sort out before I can try again."
Her friends couldn't help but snicker at her begrimed face that looked for all the world like she'd grown a little goatee. To quell the rising tension, Sweetiebelle managed between giggle fits to say, "Right, good try, I'm sure it'll work better a little later on."
For three days flight eluded Scootaloo. The years that came before should make it seem a trivial exercise of patience, but being so very close was maddening, like an itch beneath a cast, which she'd narrowly avoided being in after another morning's session. It heightened her impatience, though, rather than her caution, and she was quickly vowing that her next attempt would be the one. In a hoofball helmet and with hindquarters crudely wrapped in tinfoil, she traipsed back down to the abandoned farm and eyed up the closest thing it had to a launching pad.
Her friends reluctantly in tow, it was Apple Bloom who first understood her intentions.
"You ain't gonna jump off o'that old silo." Apple Bloom stated flatly.
"Oh I ain't, aren't I?" Scootaloo challenge, "Look, I've already tried running and I've tried using my scooter to launch off of, but I never get enough speed going before something happens and I end up with a snootful of soybean. That silo's twice as tall as I need to get up to speed..."
"...And it's half as tall as it needs to be to squish your silly dodo brains out. Of all the bad ideas we've ever come up up with, and I'll cop to it, I may have come up with some doozies myself, this is the worst possible one. Ever." Sweetiebelle resolutely stated, "If you do this, you're going to die, Scootaloo. Like for real die, no takebacks, orange smear on the ground die." She began to sniffle, then, overwhelmed, she ran to embrace her friend and sobbed on her tiny orange shoulders, "I don't want you to do it, please, for me, don't?"
Scootaloo shrugged off the clingy, bawling unicorn, "Gah, you sound just like your sister. I mean overdramatic much?"
"She's right. Y'mean to trust 'yer life to a souped up cigar lighter that ain't shown one sign that it'll getcha up into the clouds instead of putting ya under the dirt. You ain't gonna do it, even if I have to hold you down and hogtie ya. Maybe let's try the scooter again. That looked like it was doin' pretty well 'til ya hit that rock." Apple Bloom pointed to the dirt path that had served as a makeshift runway the day before, "We can even pick all the rocks out and smooth it up a bit and...hey! Consarn it Scootaloo! You get back here!"
"Can't hear you! Jet pack's too loud!" Scootaloo was already halfway up the rusty rungs that jutted from the old silo and had switched on to let the jetpack throttle up as she climbed. The old red tile blocks surprisingly intact, looking for all the world as if the silo had been constructed mere months ago, save for the dome at it's pinnacle, which was rusted and half missing, only a few sheets of metal still establishing it's outline.
The precipice she stood on was a mere eight inches of block. In front of her, a dizzying drop, behind, one presumably just as far, but the jet exhaust had stirred up the old grain dust to such a degree that she couldn't see farther than half it's depth. She swayed with the temperamental whim of the device's thrust, juddering fearfully forward almost to the point of falling over before it allowed her to right herself. Apple Bloom was scrambling up the ladder after her, but she calculated that the critical moment would be just before she summited the agrarian edifice.
Time seemed to slow. She took a deep breath and considered, her hoof hovering, unbidden, over the switch to kill the jetpack.
Looking down, she realized the sheer stupidity of her actions. When the power forced her from the ledge she would fall, and if the thrust was insufficient, and she was by no means certain it would be, she would be relying solely on her stunted wings to glide to a safe (albeit crash) landing. Not an easy feat even for somepony who didn't have that heavy, flame spewing gadget on her back. Her friends would be devastated. Sweetiebelle was too innocent for such a blow and Apple Bloom who'd already lost so much, so early, shouldn't have to bear such a thing again. Her hoof faltered over the switch, grazing it.
Looking towards the horizon, though, she can envision the arc towards the ground rising up to meet it's plane. She was certain of herself when her hooves stood on the ground, now as she stood here, billowing dust rising behind her, bridled fury strapped behind her, she had to ask, how certain was she? The longer her eyes rested on that stripe where the sky met the land the slower her breath. She'd felt the power, it was enough, it was only the runway that was lacking. Wasn't it just silly old fear that wanted her to back off now? She took a deep breath, her friend's pleading voice drawing nearer, the critical moment nigh.
Looking up to the sky, puffy clouds enticingly out of her reach. Those were her domain, where she'd belonged and been denied so many years. It wasn't right. There's nothing so pathetic as a flightless pegasus, it's whole nature denied in being ground bound. No, this wasn't about her friends, and if she couldn't live as a true member of her race, with wings to soar among the clouds, why fear for her life at all? Obscuring clouds, a whirlwind of risen grain dust, covered her in an ashy layer as she prepared to rise like the phoenix. She gave a silent prayer to Celestia, to Luna, to Discord just on the off chance he held some sway, and finally looked apologetically to Apple Bloom as her head popped over the edge, too far away and screaming for her to stop as the dust rolled over her as well. Blind, the machine pushed her not forward, but straight up. Her hooves left the ledge and she was weightless.
Apple Bloom scrambled up the silos side as fast as she was able, but it wasn't enough. The roar had reached it's crescendo and she'd only caught a meager glimpse of Scootaloo before the cloud overtook her and she was driven back. The dust stung her eyes and pelted her coat with sharp, desiccated wheat hulls. She braced against the billowing onslaught, shinning down as fast as she could to avoid being smothered. Halfway down her hooves slipped and she fell through the open air, hooves to the sky. Before her, a pillar of oily smoke and lapping flame burst out of the risen dust, a monumental launch, the hollow silo reinforcing the echo and thunderous boom as it faded and it's creator rose away on a trail of vapor.
All this she noted as she freefell, but rather than an abrupt stop with it's likelihood of shattered bones, she was gently slowed and ushered to the ground by a straining magical field maintained by a grunting and overtaxed Sweetiebelle who'd never cast a spell on that scale before. She nodded in profound gratitude, but neither spoke, heads raised to follow the wide trail left by the rapidly climbing aeronaut. It seemed she had made it, her trail straight and true, arcing slowly from the vertical towards a more horizontal path. When the traces of jet exhaust bloomed into several distinct, veering paths, neither of them knew what to make of it. For half a minute they stood silent and still. When the boom of an explosion reached them they finally understood.
Sweetiebelle gasped, Apple Bloom shook her head in disbelief, her mind scrambling for a scenario in which Scootaloo could still be okay, but not finding one, however implausible.
"What the hey was that? Are you mad at the clouds? Trying to shoot them down or something? You do know that's where pegasi sleep, right?" A sarcastic and marginally irritated voice startled them. They turned to find Rainbow Dash hovering behind them.
"It...That was Scootaloo. Oh, please, no, Rainbow Dash, that was Scootaloo! She bought some stupid rocket and, oh Celestia, no..." Apple Bloom wailed, but Rainbow Dash was already long gone, wings beating madly, propelling her towards the scene, a prismatic streak blasting out in the forlorn hope that she'd somehow manage to make it in time to catch her adopted sister before the earth did.
A white hoof fell on Apple Bloom's shoulder. When Sweetiebelle spoke she sounded hollow, dead, "I want to go home now. Take me home, Apple Bloom."
For the briefest moment she was about to lash out in blind anger and despair, saying that she was as big a pony as she was, she could bucking well walk herself home, but she didn't want to be alone either, and when she saw the dazed dull eyes of the normally lively unicorn, she couldn't help but acquiesce. It was Scootaloo she was mad at anyway, she was beyond her reach now and taking it out on Sweetiebelle would just be cruelty.
"Alright, yeah. Let's get you home. I'm sure Rainbow'll take care of Scoots and tan her hide but good." Apple Bloom stated with a poor facsimile of confidence.
They'd headed not for Sweetiebelle's house, but rather her sister's boutique and, largely due to their presence, it became the center of activity, though after the first hour it was much abated. Because of the relatively high altitude the accident had taken place at, Rainbow Dash hadn't been too slow, it's just that there was hardly anything left to pluck out of the air. On a table were the fruits of her daring rescue; A charred hoofball helmet, too scorched to make out the Canterlot Unicorn's emblem that had once adorned it, and a half dozen orange feathers. Twilight informed Princess Celestia and a contingent of guards had been dispatched to comb the area for any further trace of her, but Rainbow Dash sadly insisted that beyond a few bits of the jetpack itself that she'd let fall, they'd have little enough luck. Even the hope that she'd landed on a cloud had been dashed as there were none whatever close enough to offer an aerial sanctuary.
Dash's teeth were clenched and she kept muttering under her breath, entreating the departed filly not to be so stupid, swearing to every deity Equestria had ever mustered and alternately calling them all dinguses. It was a testament to how deeply effected she was that she didn't simply fly away as was her usual method for avoiding her problems.
Sweetiebelle had taken on a fetal position on Rarity's fainting couch and remained wholly unresponsive thereafter. Apple Bloom alternated between petting her in what she imagined was a comforting manner and softly weeping herself.
Applejack and Big Mac had both come and alternated between consoling Rainbow Dash and coddling Apple Bloom, it was too soon for either to have much effect, but it's all they could do. Rarity took on her parent's role, as they were elsewhere at the time, but aside from being close at hoof, dispensing little platitudes and heartfelt embraces, there was little enough to be done.
A great many ponies had turned out for the crisis, but once Rainbow had returned it had turned into more of a wake. There were dozens of ponies milling about in various states of distress and despair. All of their classmates had come and gone at one point or another. Spike was there, looking after the needs of the mourners in the pseudo butler role he'd assumed. The only pony conspicuously absent was the newly minted Princess herself.
Twilight Sparkle, upon hearing the news, had asked how a mere filly acquired an experimental piece of equipment like that and from whom. When she discovered the circumstances under which she'd acquired the device, she did a quick investigation. All the while her rage built that somepony could put a dangerous and defective piece of equipment like that in the hooves of a mere foal. By the time she'd ascertained just who was peddling the disastrous wares, willy nilly, her eye was twitching, her mane was frazzling and brief flashes of dark magic had begun to manifest. She pronounced that she needed to teleport to Fillydelphia, some 1283 miles distant, and deal with the miscreants herself. Presumably she had done so, or was doing so, as she had yet to return. Her friends reasoned that everypony dealt with grief in different ways, and if the death of a filly near and dear to all their hearts resulted in the razing of a few city blocks, well it was a healthier way of dealing with it than some.
It was Rainbow Dash they worried over, hothead that she was, she tended to deal poorly with her emotions. It was unpredictable, though. Given her dangerous past time she'd seen her share of death, just never a filly so young nor so close. In time, with her friends to support her, they knew she'd make it through, but there were likely to be some exceedingly rough patches ahead.
Days went on and a memorial was planned where the few bits left were to be interred in an empty coffin and planted beneath a little stone. Neither Sweetiebelle or Apple Bloom had returned to school, but they each knew they couldn't stay at home wallowing in their misery forever. It was Sweetiebelle who made the first move.
In the dark of Apple Bloom's cozy room she heard a floorboard creak and it jarred her from her half sleep. House settling, she thought and tried to settle back, but when it repeated several times in succession she bolted upright, "Who's there?"
The little white unicorn was standing at the foot of her bed, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Sweetiebelle, phew, you scared me. What the hay are you doing in my room at..." She looked to her clock, "Three thirty in the morning? Dang it, it's three thirty, go home and go to sleep, or hay, you can stay here if'n you want, just so long as you let me get back to sleep."
"Oh. I'm sorry Apple Bloom, I haven't been able to sleep after..." She shook her head, "...and now they're going to put up some stupid marble marker, call it done and move on and...and that's not enough. I don't know what is. But I've been thinking about it and I know where I want to start."
"Well that's good, I know we've both got some stuff to deal with and we're both gonna to have to mare up and get back to class 'cuz, bad as it is, this sulking at home ain't doin' nothin' much for either of us. But, tell me about it in the morning, I ain't fit for any such thing at this hour." Apple Bloom snuggled back under her covers and patted the bed beside her in invitation.
"No, but this, it kind of has to be at night. I don't want to get caught."
Apple Bloom sniffed, "Sweetiebelle, why does it smell like kerosene in here?"
By the time they made it to the old Hayseed place the sun was a faint tinge on the horizon. Apple Bloom had argued that burning the farmhouse and barn down was neither a healthy way of dealing with anything, nor was it directly related to the tragedy, save for immediate proximity. She had to admit, though, that it somehow felt right, and since the house was long abandoned and well beyond repair, she just couldn't argue too vehemently against the idea. What she really would have liked was to take the silo down, but she'd admitted it'd take a stouter mare than her to buck that one. Sweetie said that she'd already thought of that and had acquired a little something for just such a purpose. Along with the two gallons of kerosene draped saddle bag style across her back, she carried with her a cask marked XXX, full of black powder, sold at the general store for the purpose of blasting stumps and minor demolition. It was surely a sufficient amount to get the job done.
On the silent walk over she'd pondered the philosophy of her current choice of actions. She couldn't blame it all on Sweetiebelle, she was going right along, but really, what did it accomplish, destroying the site where her friend had stupidly initiated the events that led to her death? It wasn't even the site of her death, that was in the air, the aether, unmarked and unmarkable. She wondered if somewhere out there Scootaloo's corpse lay blackened and forever lost to all but the scavengers, or if she'd been reduced to ash and spread across Equestria.
She liked that idea and that's what she settled on. This wasn't mindless pyromania and vandalism, it was a funeral pyre. Let the adults and their jaded, accepting mourning be served by some pompous words and an expensive bit of trite white stone in a field of stones that nopony ever looked at, save for family and gawkers on about the dates. 'Ooh, this one's from two hundred years ago, and gosh, lookie here! 992 LE to 3 AL, she barely lived at all, did she? So tragic.' For they two, a great and glorious blaze would shepherd their friend into that good night and let the ashes and embers fly free as her friend longed to.
Bucking hay. Framed as such, her enthusiasm for destruction blossomed in earnest, just as they'd arrived, and she snatched up the keg of powder and fitted it with a long green fuse.
"Hey, you douse the house, I mean to climb up and chuck this inside the silo. I'll try'n get it on that eastern side so it'll fall right into the house, alright?"
Sweetiebelle, eyes downcast, gave up a small grin and handed over a box of matches, "Sounds like a plan."
It was a frightening bit of a flashback climbing back up the silo, but she steeled herself in the notion that nopony else would ever climb it again. She didn't know what she was expecting, but when she got to the top and looked in, there was nothing but inky blackness. Throwing the keg in there would literally be a shot in the dark, and if it landed on something hard enough to shatter the keg the powder would just fizzle. She knew that much from when her brother had used it on the farm. The fuse was plenty long enough to give her time to get back down and to safety, and since there was nothing left to do, she looked briefly but reverently to the sky, said a few words, lit the fuse and dropped the bomb.
"Ow! What the buck? Who's out there?" A voice cried out and Apple Bloom jerked back, "Wait, no, don't go, you've got to get me out of here!"
"Scoot...Scootaloo? Is that you?"
"Apple Bloom!" The pegasus confirmed from the dark, "Hey, get a rope or a pegasus or something. The straps on the jet pack didn't hold and I fell down here into all this rotten wheat when it took off! I wanged my head pretty good on the way down, stupid thing must have been all tangled up and popped my helmet off too. I've been trapped down here for, like, three days!"
From where Scootaloo sat, it was like being at the bottom of a well, Apple Bloom's silhouette stood out starkly against the stars, she could even make out the little bow in her hair, though it's color was lost.
"Oh my gosh, I'll...wait, no, um..." Apple Bloom's mind freewheeled, trying to parse out the correct course of action, in the meantime, Scootaloo had a request.
"Hey, I'd do just about anything for some water. Is that what's in this little barrel? I can't seem to find the cork."
"Dang, I forgot." Apple Bloom shouted down, "That's gunpowder. You need to find the fuse and pull it out, quick like. We ain't got an awful lot of time."
She could hear a shocked little squawk and the sound of wood thumping against tile as Scootaloo fumbled the keg, "That's a hay of a thing to forget about."
"Just don't panic and get that sucker out of there." She could hear her friend scrabbling across the floor, feeling around and finally a relieved sigh.
"Okay, got it. Now can you help me out?"
"Yeah, just let me get Sweetiebelle to shine a light down there so we can see what we're workin' with. Oh, dang, I forgot about Sweetiebelle. Be right back. Hey! Sweetiebelle! Sweetie, don't light that...oh, shoot, well just forget about it and get on up here, will you?" Apple Bloom shouted. Thirty seconds later a second shadow joined the first at the top of the well and she briefly lit her horn, then looked to her friend.
"That's Scootaloo." She stated as if it were a thing that needed to be said aloud for her to process these happenings any further, "Scootaloo's not dead. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo's alive!" She pointed to the bottom of the silo, her growing smile reflecting the aura from her horn.
"Yeah, but she's still stuck down in a grain silo in the middle of what's goin' to be one hay of a fire, so we've got to save her!"
"I can't lift her out with magic, I just barely caught you the other day." Sweetiebelle said in exasperation, "It's too far to go and get help before the fire roasts her alive and I don't think we can put it out."
"I heard that someponies use explosives to put out fires. It just blows the fire right out." Scootaloo suggested, tapping the keg of powder, "I can probably throw it back up to you and then you can use it to extinguish the fire, right?"
"We're not doin' that." Apple Bloom said, and when Scootaloo made as if to argue she shut her down immediately, "No, now that sounds all well and good, but it seems to me there's always more that you don't know when you try things like that and this ain't the time to try and get our explosives expert cutie marks."
"Well if I could just fly out of here I already would have." The pegasus groused, "I can only get about halfway up before my wings give out."
"Huh. Well it seems to me like we've got a halfway flight worthy pegasus and a light duty unicorn. Maybe if the two of you worked together you could manage it?" Apple Bloom suggested.
Unseen in the inky blackness, Scootaloo shrugged, "Hey, yeah, that's worth a shot, right Sweetiebelle?"
The unicorn let forth an irrepressible smile and lit her horn, enveloping her friend in a halo of light that, while it didn't levitate her as she wished, gave her that extra boost she needed to gain altitude. It still wasn't enough and their combined strength began to wane, but Apple Bloom saw her slipping away and dove after her, grabbing her solidly by the forehooves while she hung onto the a rusted bit of the dome's framework by her tail. It's a remarkable feat which only a few ponies could manage, most of their tails not being prehensile. She managed to swing her friend high enough for Sweetiebelle to grab on and hoist her bodily out, and they, in turn, both pulled Apple Bloom up by her tortured tail.
Around them the fire blazed, threatening to trap them atop the silo, no better off than they had been, but moving quickly they managed to clear of in time, outpacing the lapping tide of amber flame. The worn out trio trudged to what they figured to be a safe distance and collapsed. They hadn't even caught their breath yet when the heat ignited the powder charge, and they all turned to watch as the silo teetered, then collapsed right into the burnt out farm house with a roar of falling brick and splintering wood as the fire flared a great tongue into the sky.
Scootaloo hoarsely managed, "That was awesome."
"Yeah, it kinda was." Apple Bloom agreed.
"What are you even doing here? Did you decide to go for firebug cutiemarks while I was gone, or something?"
"No. I mean the truth is, we thought you were blown to smithereens. We were torching that place in your honor." Apple Bloom said.
Scootaloo nodded as if that made perfect sense, "Sweet. The explosives were a nice touch, shows you guys really care. You might have some explaining to do if they find out you were behind it."
Sweetiebelle scoffed, "You're going to have some explaining to do when everypony finds out you're not dead."
"Oh, right. So that's why nopony came looking for me." She scratched the back of her neck with a grungy hoof and let out a long, jetted sigh, "How many ponies think I'm dead?"
"Well, all of 'em, I spect."
"Horse apples, what about...?"
"Yeah, Rainbow Dash too." Apple Bloom confirmed, "Which reminds me, I'm still mad at you for almost blowing yourself up."
"Yeah. Me too." Sweetiebelle hugged the filthy, dehydrated pegasus, "But I'll put off being mad until I'm done being glad you're okay. But boy, you're sure going to get it later."
In the end, things didn't work out too badly, all things considered. Everypony was so glad that Scootaloo was okay that they mostly forgot to punish her or even be properly angry. Rainbow Dash finally caved and officially adopted her once and for all, though she insisted it was just so she could keep a closer eye on her and make sure there were no jet packs in her future.
Sweetiebelle and Scootaloo met after school most days and the one practiced her magic, and the other her flying. They worked in combination with each other until they were each strong enough on their own. Apple Bloom got to watch and laugh when Sweetiebelle's magic misfired or Scootaloo crashed, though it got to be an increasingly rare occurrence.
What did Twilight do in Fillydelphia? She'd left with a heart full of unbridled rage and an endless well of dark magic on tap, but the Equestrian bureaucratic legal system stymied it when, even with two princesses and a staff of archivists on hoof she couldn't determine the true owner of the company in question as it was held by a dummy corporation that was part of a shell corporation that operated offshore through a subsidiary. Frustrated, she hoofed the whole thing over to a team of vicious lawyers with few scruples and told them to handle it. They promised to stop at nothing in pursuit of Flamboyant Rutherford Pitch and his brother (and business partner) Flimsy Cornelius Guarantee, and woe unto them when they turned up. Goddesses and litigators lay in wait. Then she set about the arduous task of revising the pertinent laws to avoid such sloughing off of liability in the future. On the whole it was a less exciting story than the one Scootaloo got out of the experience, which always started, "Did I ever tell you about the time I bought a jet pack and then spent three days dead?"
Author's Note
So, the story came to me fully formed. Including what picture must be used as the cover, which implies a good deal of offensive/sardonic type humor that is not actually delivered upon. Barely bumps the needle in that regard, I'd say. This could have been a pretty raucous or inane romp, but for better or worse, I played it straight and went slice of life, and though I'm apprehensive about how it'll be received, it was the best I was capable of, so I rather hope someone enjoys it so much as I enjoyed writing it, which actually, was quite a lot.
Thanks for reading!
