Relieved

CPT SPITFIRE:

REPORT TO SQDN HQ @ 1500 FOR COUNSELING

                                                                                                            HIGH FADE

                                                                                                            LTC, REAF

                                                                                                            12th SQDN, COMMANDING

Spitfire sat in the hallway outside her squadron commander's office, wound tight as a mainspring. Her leg jiggled as she sat in the uncomfortably stiff government issue chair, rereading the note that the training room had brought her that morning. In an effort to take her mind off the impending flank-chewing that almost certainly lay behind that oak door, she read the posters in the command group hallway.

"CORE VALUES: LEADERSHIP, EXCELLENCE, INTEGRITY"

The poster featured a determined, earnest looking pegasus soaring out of a stylized cumulus cloud.  To its left hung a poster entreating the reader to report sexual harrassment. To its right another poster warned of the innumerable dangers to rank, pay and career posed by gambling.

Down the hall, Slideshow, the squadron adjutant hammered furiously on his typewriter, generating the myriad schedules and reports the squadron required to function efficiently. With a flourish, he pulled the latest finished product from his machine and dropped it in the outbox.  He was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed Spitfire's arrival, and seeing her startled him momentarily.

"Oh." He stated flatly. "Spitfire. 1500. He's expecting you, go ahead and report."

As she got ready to knock, Spitfire considered the possibilities. Soarin's wife called the cops on him again? Misty Fly get caught drinking underage again? Silver Lining popped hot on the piss test? Spitfire gathered herself and rapped the door with her hoof.

"Enter." High Fade called out.

"Sir! Captain Spitfire reporting as ordered."

Lieutenant Colonel Fade left her standing there at attention, eyes fixed straight ahead, for several seconds.

"At ease, Captain. Take a seat."

Spitfire sat uneasily in the chair across from her commander.  He reached onto his desk and slid a sheet of paper across to her before steepling his hooves. Spitfire regarded the paper carefully. It was an Officer Evaluation Report, which confused her at first because she wasn't due for her OER for another couple months, but as she continued reading her eyes caught on the words "Relief For Cause".  Her hooves trembled as she read on.

"You're... You're relieving me of command? This is... Sir, I'm shocked." Spitfire stumbled over herself, trying valiantly to subdue the fury and embarrassment welling up inside her.

"Shocked?" "SHOCKED?"  Colonel Fade shouted, slammed both his hooves on his desk as he leaned forward.

"Spitfire, I can't see how it comes as any surprise. Your performance as CO of the Wonderbolts has been substandard at best. You had the incident at the young fliers competition where your entire team failed to recover a competition participant in distress and had to be rescued by one of the young fliers, in front of Celestia I might add..."

Spitfire fairly vibrated with constrained rage as her commanding officer berated her.

"You had an incident where you promoted a cadet under your command to lead pony, despite her history of endangering her wingmates. That same cadet then created a tornado that caused the destruction of a civilian air vessel and endangered the lives of six ponies who just so happen to be on a first name basis with the Princess."

LTC Fade was on a  roll now. Flecks of spittle flew from his lips as his tirade continued.

"Then... Then to top it off, you decide to try and cashier Soarin'. Soarin', who's had top block ratings since flight school. Soarin', who's uncle is Iron Triangle, the Representative of Cloudsdale and is on the Armed Services Committee. So you tell me, Spitfire. Tell me how I shouldn't fire you."

And with that, Spitfire had had enough.  Quick as lightning she twisted her head and bit her rank off her collar and spat it viciously at her boss.

"Buck You." Spitfire said emotionlessly.

"What?" High Fade's eyes bulged in surprise and anger at Spitfire's affrontery.

"You heard me. BUCK. YOU."

Somewhere in Spitfire's brain, something had snapped, and the stress and frustration of dealing with four years at the Equestrian Military Academy and six years on active duty exploded out in an uncontrolled, unhinged torrent.

"Let's review those incidents, shall we? For starters, that entire young fliers competition was a safety nightmare. No emergency response plan, no first responders, no pre-flight safety briefing, and the organizers are letting anypony who shows up with a set of fragile aftermarket wings compete, and you want blame ME when MY TEAM jumped in from the sidelines to rescue somepony when the inevitable happened?"

Spitfire stamped her front hooves on the squadron commander's desk. High Fade, for his part, sat in silent shock as the young Wonderbolts commander unleashed on him.

"And don't get me started on the Wonderbolts Academy - springing that additional duty on me with one week's notice was bad enough, but then your shithooves Sergeant Major decides to hide his buddies Manerick and Whiplash out there as TAC NCOs because they're so close to retirement. And you wanna know why I promoted Lightning Dust to lead pony? BECAUSE WHEN THEY WROTE THE EVALS THEY SAID SHE WAS THE BEST FLIER OUT THERE. Come to find out after the fact that the two 'super-experienced' 18 year Master Sergeants tasked to run the lanes wrote that she was the best because her name was first on the sign-in roster and they just wanted to get home early. And the afternoon of the incident with the balloon, neither of them were paying close enough attention to their lanes to notice that a civilian aircraft  had drifted into the training area, in what was supposed to be restricted military airspace, I might add. And you might say 'But Spitfire, why weren't you there being a leeeeader?' to which I would reply 'I WAS AT THE MOTHERBUCKING STUPID SEAPONY HERITAGE HISTORY MONTH LUNCHEON YOU MADE ALL YOUR SUBORDINATE COMMANDERS BUY A TWENTY BIT TICKET FOR AND ATTEND!'"

"And another thing - Soarin's a pie-obsessed halfwit who's gotten as far as he has because it's easier to promote him than to get rid of him. He's got a good manecut and gets a 270 on his flight fitness test, but that's ALL he's got. The guy couldn't find his flank with both hooves and sooner or later his connections are going to get him promoted past his level of incompetence and his idiocy is going to get someone seriously hurt."

"So y'know what? I'm sick of it. You've got a system that fries junior officers whenever anything goes wrong because nobody is willing to stand up for them. So, guess what? I bucking quit."

With that, Spitfire whipped her pen out of her uniform jacket, signed the report and stalked out of her commander's office. Slideshow boggled at her as she strode off, his important presentation forgotten in the moment.

To her credit, Spitfire made it all the way home before the tears started.