Prologue: Charge of Quarters
Life was tough, and doing what you thought was right had a way of making it tougher.
Everything was tense in CQ. A stallion, seated at the bench, had that frightened stare that revealed to anypony passing through that he had been guilty of some breach of discipline, and he was now left to sit here, waiting for whomever would finally decide to deal with him. It didn't always end badly though, Rainbow Dash knew this. Worse case, he would be pulled to another flight, washed back, or recycled, whichever they decided to call it. It was only when you were meeting the Commander that you should be afraid. Ponies sent to the Command office never showed their faces again.
Thinking about the jittery stallion, Rainbow Dash considered herself fortunate. She would only have to deal with Cpt. Spitfire. It wasn't enough to relieve the immense anxiety she was forced to repress, but there was some relief in knowing she wasn't about to be thrown out. Instructors walked briskly past Rainbow Dash, left standing at-ease by the Captain's door. A few gave her quick stern glances. Other stopped to inquire about her being there. Rainbow made sure to answer quickly and briefly, and always with a reporting statement. It was a habit she was taught to form the moment she had arrived, and she wouldn't allow her instructors the opportunity to berate her for being forgetful, especially not where she was standing.
Trainees hated the idea of being in CQ, and even the thought of doing trash detail was enough to shake a ponies nerves. Every flaw in CQ was scrutinized severely, and Rainbow was in enough trouble without igniting the boiling anger of a room of tired sergeants.
After an agonizing ten minutes, Spitfire finally called Rainbow Dash into her office. The young mare walked inside, mindful that she followed regs down to the last movements of her hooves, maintaining, always, that stern countenance required of all trainees. She opened with a reporting statement, holding her salute until it was returned by the young officer. Rainbow offered herself a quick glance of Spitfire, and could see fatigue in her eyes. This wasn't going to be a good conversation.
"Trainee Dash,"asked Spitfire firmly, "what week are you in?"
"Eighth week, ma'm," replied Rainbow Dash.
"Do you want to graduate with the rest of your flight, Trainee Dash?"
"Yes ma'm."
"Obviously not," barked Spitfire. It was difficult to tell whether she was genuinely angry; but those things didn't matter, not in this place.
"Trainees who want to graduate don't wind up in my office. So why are you lying to me Trainee Dash?"
"I'm not lying ma'm." Keep your cool Rainbow, she's just trying to make you crack.
"Then why are you here?"
"There was a misunderstanding ma'm." Just be honest, lying only makes it worse.
"From what Sgnt. Soarin told me, it doesn't seem like a misunderstanding. Weren't you briefed about what you could keep in the dorms?"
"Yes ma'm, I was." Just be honest.
"Then why did they find an unauthorized item in your locker, Trainee Dash?" Spitfire's voice became louder, more inflamed. Rainbow Dash fought the urge to speak up. Spitfire was leading the conversation, pulling from Rainbow only the answers she wanted to hear. Nothing Rainbow Dash said or did meant anything. She was in the wrong, and her little chat with Spitfire was just an unpleasant formality.
"Because I put it there ma'm." Just roll with the bucks, Rainbow.
"So you thought it was fine to just violate regs!!!" The fury in Spitfire voice bellowed throughout the rest of CQ. Ponies were peeking there heads from their office. Somepony, another officer, peeked inside.
"What's going on here?" said the officer.
"An eighth weeker," said Spitfire, irately pointing a hoof at Rainbow Dash. "Thinks cause she's graduating she can just do whatever she wants."
"Really," said the officer, "what did she do?" The officer only exchanged quick glances to Spitfire, before refocusing her attention to Rainbow Dash.
"Had an unauthorized item in her locker." Spitfire chuckled.
"Wow, that's just flank-freaking-tastic," the officer said irritably. "What the piss trainee? You think cause your graduating you can just do whatever you please?"
"Hell, I don't think she should graduate," said Spitfire, "since she can't seem to understand something so basic."
"Hey, I got a fresh flight unpacking. Would you like that trainee? You're flight will get to graduate and become Wonderbolts while you get washed back to zero week. Would you like that trainee?"
Rainbow felt herself cracking. "No, sir," she replied, but was immediately shouted out by the officer. "I didn't here a damned reporting statement, trainee," bellowed the officer.
Rainbow repeated herself, making certain to include a reporting statement.
"Holy hay-bale, freaking eighth week of training, and you can't even give me a damn reporting statement. Out freaking standing."
The officer said goodbye to Spitfire before taking off, leaving a rattled Rainbow alone with the young officer once more. Rainbow Dash cursed inwardly, chiding herself for forgetting something so simple. She had used her reporting statement in nearly every conversation she had with an instructor, and yet she still found herself missing that mark under pressure.
"Sit down Trainee Dash," said Spitfire, her voice suddenly gentler.
Rainbow seated herself across from Spitfire, who placed on her desk, a small trinket. It was shoddy, and obviously hoof made. Why somepony would risk keeping something like this in her locker, even when she knew it could get them in trouble, was all that mattered to Spitfire. Now that pleasantries were out of the way, they could talk about it.
"Who sent this to you?" she asked.
"My friend Scootaloo, ma'm."
"Is this the first time she's sent you something over the mail?"
"No, ma'm, I occasionally get letters."
Spitfire looked over the trinket, and asked: "How old is Scootaloo?"
"She's a filly ma'm, but I don't remember how old she is?"
Spitfire nodded. "Will she be here on graduation?"
Rainbow made her best effort to hide the shakiness in her voice. "Yes ma'm," she stammered.
Spitfire briefly fiddled with the trinket, neither speaking nor looking at Rainbow Dash, before putting the item aside.
"Give me a sheet," she said plainly.
Rainbow reflexively pulled a small piece of paper from her hoof pocket, passing it to Spitfire. Pulling out a pen, she scribbled on the paper, before tucking it in one of the drawers.
"This is your one warning," she said sternly. "If I find out you got sent back down here for anything other than details, I'm sticking you in Tartarus until your processed out of the Wonderbolts. Get out."
Rainbow, mutely, got up shakily from her seat and after being returned a salute, left the office.
Spitfire fiddled again with the trinket shortly afterward. She imagined Rainbow Dash, clean cut and dressed for graduation. Somewhere in the wide audience of family and friends there would be a little filly, looking at Rainbow Dash, hearing her recite the Wonderbolts Oath, saluting the Flag of Equestria with all the grace and discipline Spitfire had come to expect from those she identified as motivated Pegasi. She smiled softly at the trinket, before chucking it in the waste bin, thinking fondly of the young mare who would soon call herself a Wonderbolt.
