Rainbow throws Capper’s bail
“I’m insulted by your insinuation, Mr. Dapperpaws,” said the Ponyville Police chief. “This is Equestria, not... wherever you’re from. The police here would never even consider using ‘excessive force.’”
“Hey, there, my fine stallion,” I said, holding my paws up, despite the cuffs chained to a ring mounted into the table. “That wasn’t what I was insinuating at all. I was just—“
The assistant police pony flitted her wings and said, “We don’t use excessive force here in Equestria. We just threaten it, and ponies get really cooperative. You’re as smart as a pony, right?”
The chief, idly levitating a coffee mug, said, “So explain again why you were trying to pick the lock to Miss Rarity’s shop.”
“The lovely and ever so inviting Miss Rarity,” I said, “invited me to visit Ponyville. Something about needing male models for her new fashion line? You, my fine hunk of stallion, I might add—“
“Don’t.”
“Well, y’all read the note Rarity left on her door!” I said.
The pegasus mare leaned over the parchment and read: “‘My Dearest Capper, got called to Canterlot due to a teensy-tiny conflagration at my other boutique. I simply must attend the finer points of the recovery in person, darling. Smoke damage to silk is positively dreadful. Please avail yourself of the Princess’s hospitality, I shall be back tomorrow evening. Rarity.’ How is jimmying Rarity’s lock availing yourself of the princess’s hospitality?”
“Well, you see, through the front window of her boutique, I could see the new duds she wanted me to model, amirite? There aren’t all so many six foot tall cats in Ponyville, is there? Well, Rarity being so generous, I knew she wouldn’t mind if I checked to see how they fit on my, you know, physique. I’ve been working out since I last saw her, so my measurements about the shoulders and the—“ I started to flex my biceps when the stallion smashed his hooves down on the table.
“You were breaking and entering!” snapped the mare. “Rarity’s little sister—a filly!—was in there alone. You scared her to death! She thought you were after her!”
“Is that a thang? Don’t tell me that’s a thang here. I went through all that heroing with the Storm King, yet y’all precious pastel ponies still have a country where big grown tomcats go after little fillies? I am shocked, shocked I say—“
“The whole ‘Storm King thing,’” said the chief, “is the only reason the charge is breaking and entering, and not felony attempted foalnapping, Capper. Foalnapping would be a train trip to Canterlot and a stay in the dungeon. Ponies say the dungeons are interesting ever since Princess Luna returned and started getting artistic down there. You’ve met Luna? You have? Good: now, imagine her artistic side. I also hear there are a few unrepentant Storm Guards left, we could arrange you a friendly roommate, Mr. ‘I took down the Storm King, have you heard the story.’”
“Chief?” said the mare. “Can I please try excessive force? Just this once?”
The stallion rubbed his horn. “Not... yet. If the princess will take him off our hooves, we can get home on time today. He’s the only perp we’ve had all month.”
“Well, I’ll tell y’all precious prosperous pastel ponies one thing, when I come back, imma come back as a princess. Hmmm-boy. That whole castle is crystal?” I pointed, but the cuffs were still attached to the chain around my belly, so my paws didn’t get very far up. My top hat tilted over my right eye as I walked.
The chief knocked on the door.
The door opened after about two or three minutes.
“Twilight!” I said, then felt my jaw clack shut.
Twilight was wearing a white plastic full-body-plus-tail coverall, safety goggles, and a black respirator mask. Fuschia duct tape sealed the mask and goggles to the hood of the suit, and duct tape ran down her chest and belly, sealing the zipper shut. The only reason I knew it was Twilight were the bulges of a horn and wings underneath the plastic outfit, and purple eyes behind the goggles. She wore rubber yellow booties on each hoof, and the whole getup was dripping sweet-smelling green gunk.
The police chief said, “Is this a bad time, princess?”
The respirator muffled her voice. “HahahahaHAAAAAAA! No, no, just cleaning up from a little, you know, ha! Culinary catastrophe.” She twirled a forehoof next to her white hood.
“Still can’t get the pudding recipe right, ma’am?” said the policemare.
“There’s a typo in the book somewhere! Did ponies not take pride in their WORK a thousand years ago?!? I’ll figure it out eventually. .... why is Capper in Ponyville? And under arrest?”
“So you know him?” Said the chief. “All right, question number one answered. Question number two—“
“What did he do?” said Twilight.
“Oh, Princess, why you playing me that way? This is all a misunderst—“
“Ssshh!" said the chief. "Caught him attempting B and E on Rarity’s boutique. Sweetie Belle was there alone, and she lost her horse apples when she thought somecreature was breaking in for her.”
Spike wandered up then, covered in green pudding, licking it off his wings. (Since when did he have wings?) “Did Sweetie Belle literally lose her horse apples?” asked Spike.
The two officers gave each other an awkward look.
“Princess,” I said, “you know Rarity has the big fashion to-do coming up here at this very castle! She invited me, and she left a note—“
“Do you officers want me to bail him out?” Twilight said. “And keep an eye on him until Rarity’s back?”
“Yes, please, Princess,” said the chief. “Wouldja mind?”
“That would be recklessly irresponsible of me,” Twilight said. “I have pudding to defeat! Score: pudding, seventy nine; alicorn, zero. But this time, I’m feeling lucky! HA! C’mon, Spike! We’re going back in time to ask Chancellor Puddinghead’s typesetters why they allowed a typo into my book!” She turned around and trotted down the castle corridor, screaming, “STARLIGHT! STARLIGHT GLIMMER! I need to borrow your time-travel spelllllllllll!”
Spike looked at us, mouthed help me, and slammed the door.
The two cops looked at me. The mare smirked.
I made an OK sign with one paw. “I know just the pony, if you fine officers want ‘recklessly irresponsible.’”
Rainbow Dash jerked opened the door. Her mane was sudsy with shampoo and a towel wrapped her body. “WHAT?!?”
Dash looked at the pegasus officer and said, “Oh, Hi, Enforcer, howsyabeen? I don’t know what it is, but I didn’t do it. I’m on my best behavior this year.”
The policemare twitched an ear at me. I stood on a narrow welcome mat so that I didn’t fall through the clouds, and gave a tiny wave of my cuffed paws. “Rainbow Dash, we was just talking about you and your unique qualities.”
Rainbow facehoofed. “Capper, why are you in Ponyville, cuffed and chained on my front stoop?”
I started, “The Princess said you should—“
Officer Enforcer slapped a wing over my mouth. “Bail’s four hundred bits. He needs to be in front of Mayor Mare Thursday, 8 a.m., or it’s failure to appear and you forfeit the bits. Can I leave him on your hooves, or do I jug him?”
Dash took to her wings, hovering at my eye level, one forehoof clamping her towel around her torso, and the other poking into my nose. “I never leave a buddy in the jug. Even a buddy I don’t like very much. Besides, Scoots and I need a third warm body, and none of the ponies around here are brave-awesome-cool-radical enough to help out. You. Owe. Me. Big. Got it?”
“Of course, my prismatic savior,” I said, with a slight bow.
The policemare smirked. “Rainbow’s wearing her smile. You sure you don’t want a nice, safe jail cell? Last several times Rainbow had that smile, somepony ended up throwing her bail.”
“‘Best behavior,’ I said!” Rainbow whined.
“After the whole Storm King thang, Rainbow won’t play me dirty. We’re siblings-in-arms, ain’t that right, my multicolored sister?”
Rainbow Dash brought a velvet bag of coins out of her house and winged it to the officer, who then unlocked my shackles and cuffs. "I'll count it later, I know you're cool," said Enforcer.
“Twenty percent cooler than that. Step on the rugs, Capper,” Rainbow told me, “or sit on the furniture. They’re enchanted and it's an eighty-foot drop for non-pegasi if you stand on the clouds.”
I tiptoed into her house, the way only a cat can tiptoe. She closed the front door and angrily pointed a hoof at me. “Do cats land on their feet?”
“You know it, my prismatic friend.”
“I’m going to go finish my shower. If I hear one padded cat toe on the bathroom doorknob while I’m naked, you’re going to be taking that eighty-foot drop after I break your spine, and we’ll see if you land on your feet then. Got it?”
“But isn’t you ponies always naked? That towel is the most clothes I’ve ever seen you wear.”
“Spine.”
“Oh, I get it. You setting boundaries. You don’t like tomcats. Stallions. Males of the species. However they self-identify.”
“SPINE!”
I sat, waiting, on her couch, and a tortoise with a helicopter pack kept flying into my head. I don’t mean to judge, but even by tortoise standards, I think he was... special.
Ponies is weird. Rainbow came out of the bathroom, clean and fresh, and naked, just like always.
“Capper? I’m sorry I threatened to break your spine. You’re okay, okay? Four hundred bits is a lot of money and I had it planned for... something.”
“No problemo, Dash of a Rainbow.” That was as much of an apology as I could expect from her. “Rarity will drop the charges, and you’ll get the bits back. If they dock ten percent, well, I’ll make it up to you. I ain't have any Equestrian money, but I can do chores or somethang.”
She nodded. “You're cool, Capper. All right, I’ll fly you down to ground level. Hop on my back and grab around my neck. And don’t touch anything but my neck. I like stallions a lot, to answer your question from earlier, but you’re not a pegasus, okay? I’m particular that way.”
“You got it, Rainbow.”
She landed us on the main street in Ponyville. The police chief was sitting in a cafe and pointed a hoof at his eyes, then at me, and glared.
“All right, our agenda today is to help out Scootaloo with her racer. We’ll go pick her up.”
She trotted down the street. I had to jog to keep up. That is one athletic mare.
I said, “Who’s Scootaloo?”
“A filly I help out with. Well, teenager, technically, now. Here’s her place.”
I looked up. It was a three-story brick building, clean and ornate, the nicest non-castle pad in the town. “Dang,” I said. “This filly’s parents must be loaded, a litter box like this.”
She poked me in the nose with her hoof again. “This is the town orphanage, you dolt! Don’t talk like that. She’s sensitive.”
We entered the lobby and Rainbow moved to the reception desk. Rainbow said to me, “I’ll check Scootaloo out.”
“Wait, they let you check out the orphans like library books?” I was really starting to wonder about this perplexing precious pastel pony land and its customs.
Rainbow poked me in the nose again, pointed to a couch, and said, “Sit! Quiet!”
I sat. Quietly.
An older unicorn mare behind the desk glared at me. Rainbow grabbed a pencil in her mouth and wrote on a clipboard, then disappeared up the stairs.
The unicorn kept glaring at me.
I said, “I’m out on bail, not jailbreak.”
She paled and glared harder. I looked around. Clean, nice, maybe a little sparse on toys and decorations. I smelled fresh food cooking. Way nicer than the orphanage I’d grown up in.
Well, it was more of a coal mine, than an orphanage, technically. But staffed entirely by orphans. Whatever you wants to call that.
Rainbow came back down the stairs, trailed by a little pegasus with stumpy wings and purple hair.
The unicorn at the desk said, “two hundred and five days, Ms. Dash!”
Rainbow facehoofed. “Oh come on! That’s a secret!”
The unicorn stammered and Rainbow rushed the filly and me out the door.
“Capper, meet Scootaloo. Scoot is the president and founding member of my fan club.”
“You has a fan club?” I said.
“Scoot, this is—“
“I saw him in Canterlot, after the whole Storm King thing! You saved Equestria, Mr. Capper!” Scootaloo extended a hoof and I shook it.
“Oh, come on, Scoot, we all had something to do with it, too.”
“It is my distinct pleasure to meet such a polite and perceptive young mare,” I said, sweeping into a bow. Scootaloo blushed. I stood up again and said, “Especially a fellow orphan. Tough, ain’t it?”
She looked at me, cocked her head, perhaps judging if she believed me or not, and then nodded once. “Thanks. Hey, Rainbow Dash, what did Ms. Watcher mean by two hundred and five days?”
Rainbow stomped, frowned, and looked away from Scootaloo. “That was supposed to be a secret. In case I screw up. So you won’t be disappointed.”
“Rainbow Dash?” said Scootaloo.
“I petitioned the Mayor to let me adopt you. She said I was too immature and irresponsible.”
“Well, yeah. You told me that.”
“The Mayor also said if I could go one year and one day without, quote, ‘pulling a rainbow dash,’ unquote, she would endorse my application and forward it to the Foals’ Services Committee. Princess Twilight said the same.”
Scootaloo’s tail thrashed and her wings flitted. I don’t know much pony body language, but I knew that was one emotional filly. “Oh. Wow. Rainbow Dash—thanks.”
They both looked away from each other, swallowing hard.
I said, “Rainbow here mentioned you two needed help. Tell me what this mysterious project is, my fine young mare.”
Scootaloo made a sound that went something like, “Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
I rubbed the pain out of my ears.
They was borrowing an old tumbledown barn at Applejack’s farm, which was still nicer than my pad back in Klugetown. I reminded myself to look into pony immigration policies. I could live in that barn and still be better off than home. I don't mind hard work, and anycreature with thumbs could probably get employment in Ponyville.
Inside the barn was a contraption almost as large as the barn itself. It had wings, or some sort of airfoils, at least, so that scared me. It was mostly wood with some metal reinforcement, a big intake in the front, exhaust in the back, a glass canopy and some portholes, overall shaped like a teardrop that was flattened into wings.
Honestly, the Ponyville jail wasn't that bad. It had smelled like pine-scented cleaner, after all. Ain’t no jail I’ve ever been to before hadn’t smelled like cat pee (and not always mine). And I’m pretty sure Officer Enforcer was kidding about the excessive force.
“Is this a some sort of torture thang?” I asked.
“I call it.... Model A!” Scootaloo said, hopping up and down. “It’s our entry into the Long Interval Navigation CONtest!”
“The what now?” I said.
“Long Interval Navigation CONtest. Every two years,” Rainbow said, “a flyer contest, from Vanhoover to Fillydelphia, waypoints at Appaloosa, Canterlot, Baltimare. Ten-thousand-bit purse to first place. Can’t be enchanted, exactly three-pony crew (we’ll take ‘pony’ as generic), it can’t have weapons, and it can’t touch the ground after takeoff. No other rules.”
“Miss Derpy, the Doctor, and Her Lunar Highness are the defending champion team,” Scootaloo said. “Princess Luna is a scary good pilot, with her precognitive reflexes and all; the Doctor is, well, the Doctor; and it turns out, Miss Derpy dropped out all-but-dissertation from the Ph.D. program in mechanical engineering at École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lipizzan. She won’t tell me why she dropped out!”
From behind Scootaloo’s back, Rainbow Dash mouthed disability harassment to me.
“So,” Scootaloo continued, “We can’t beat them on their terms, but Rainbow Dash and I are feeling lucky this time! We’re changing the terms.”
Rainbow Dash looked at me and held out a hoof to Scootaloo. Rainbow said, “We got a secret weapon.”
“Dragonfire!” Scootaloo said, returning Rainbow’s hoofbump.
“Say what now?” It seemed apparent I was gonna be the third crewcat, and I didn’t much care for dragonfire after seeing Spike take on the Storm King’s guards.
Maybe if I went back to jail willingly, Rainbow could get a refund of my bail. They’d probably dock ten percent, but that’s the price of loyalty, amirite? Rarity’s note said she’d be back tomorrow. She’d drop the charges and then I’d be free, no favors owed. Precious pastel pony prison really wasn’t bad.
“Rainbow’s such a good sport!” Scootaloo said, “she’s been modeling for Rarity even though she hates that froo-froo stuff.”
“Rarity’s trying to break into the Cloudsdale market,” Rainbow said. “She’s doing a ‘workout-couture’ line, since Cloudsdale just got named ‘fittest city in Equestria’ again, and a Wonderbolt makes a great spokesmare. ”
“A wonder-what?” I said. “Get to the dragonfire part. I have concerns vis-à-vis the dragonfire part.”
Scootaloo continued, “Rarity pays in gems. Spike accepts gems as payment, in turn.”
“Payment for what?” I asked. “You ain’t exactly allaying my concerns vis-à-vis the dragonfire part. Because you just admitted to bribing a dray-gun. Get to the dragonfire part, because that’s where my concerns is. Vis-à-vis, dragonfire?”
Scootaloo sat on her rump, rubbed her hooves together, and grinned. “I invented a ‘hermetically sealed biological offgassing harvest and cryogenic storage’ unit.”
“Huh what now?” I said.
“Plastic pants,” Rainbow said. “We pay Spike gems, he eats lots of fiber before bed, sleeps in the hermetically sealed pants, attached to a hose, and we collect and cryogenically liquify dragon waste gas. It burns ten times hotter than distilled coal gas, which Luna’s team is burning in their LIN-Contest flier.”
“Smells worse, though,” Scootaloo said. “But ‘cuz there’s no unicorn or alicorn involved, it doesn’t count as ‘enchanted’ and doesn’t break the rules!”
They hoofbumped again. Rainbow squealed, “So awesome!”
“Y’all pay Spike gems... to sleep in diapers... to collect his farts?” I said.
“No! No!” Scootaloo said, hovering an inch above the dirt floor. Her stumpy little wings was flappin’ hard. “No! Don’t call them diapers! No! Or he’ll get offended and quit! No! We only have four tanks. One for today’s practice, two for the race, one in reserve. We need at least one more tank for an additional practice run. Don’t offend Spike!”
“Y’all are gonna fly this thang across Equestria on bottled dragon farts?”
Yup. Jail. Jail sounded good.
“They’re actually stainless steel cryogenic dewars,” Scootaloo said, “not bottles.”
“And we all are flying it across Equestria, Capper,” Rainbow said. “You promised to help me out before I threw your bail.”
“He’s out on bail?” Scootaloo asked, dropping from a hover to the ground. “What did he do?”
A huge red stallion helped us push Scootaloo’s Model A out of the barn. Us three adults—Rainbow, red, and I—all pushed and rocked it onto a gravel path that ran between two separate orchards, and then up a hill, like a ski jump. Scootaloo directed us with flits of her wings to point left or right. A little yellow filly in a pink bow watched. That big red stallion, with a final grunt, got the flier’s back wheels pointed just straight. A blue juvenile griffon fluttered down next to the yellow filly.
I looked at the red stallion and said, “Y’know, my friend, they said the rule for the contest was ‘three-pony crew.’ You should probably take my—“
“Nnnope!” He galloped away. “Not again!”
Applejack came out of the farmhouse, whispered “Don’t pull a rainbow dash!” To Rainbow Dash, glared at Scootaloo (is you allowed to glare at orphans?) and dragged the yellow filly by her tail into the farmhouse. The griffon clenched his claw into a fist at Scootaloo, and held it above his head. Scootaloo returned a hoofpump to him, and the griffon flew away.
“What’s the hoofpump mean?” Rainbow asked Scootaloo.
Scootaloo glanced at me, blushed, then mumbled, “Orphan power.”
“Oh.” said Rainbow. “Gallus is a good kid.”
Rainbow bent down and Scootaloo climbed onto her head, and Rainbow lifted her into a hatch on the bottom of the flyer. Rainbow then leaped in herself, and I pulled myself up, and they had me close the hatch.
“Is y’all sure this thing is safe?” I asked.
“Brakes are good, the tires fair,” Scootaloo said. “Four-stage combustor, dual-expansion exhaust, with hypersonic ramjet bypass so we can really get lost... but that’s enchanted, so if we use it, we’re disqualified.”
“What now?” I said.
“Sunset Shimmer scored us sick-sick composite turbine blades from the mirror world,” Scootaloo said.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“No idea,” Rainbow said, “but Twilight danced in circles and squeed when Sunset said it. Capper, do you read Ponish? You speak it. Did you grow up with a different alphabet?”
I looked at a huge bank of controls and read labels like ‘temperature,’ ‘fuel pressure,’ ‘altitude.’
“Same alphabet,” I said.
Scootaloo settled into the front seat, behind a large bubble canopy and controls, helmeted up, and strapped herself in.
“You is lettin’ the filly fly this contraption?” I said.
Scootaloo hmmpfh!ed. “It’s my contraption!”
“You know, my fine young mare, ‘Dragonfire’ is a lot better name than ‘Model A,’” I suggested.
“I’m flight engineer,” Rainbow said, strapping down at the bank of knobs and gauges, facing backwards, at the rear of the flier. “You strap in at the map table.”
“I registered the name with the contest already,” Scootaloo said.
“What’s Princess Luna’s flier’s name?” I asked.
“The Dark Side of the Moon,” Rainbow said. “We can't touch that for cool, but ‘Model A’ is easy to remember.”
In between the other two, I sat down and looked at a big parchment of Equestria. A magical red dot glowed near Ponyville.
“I thought you said no enchantments allowed?”
“Maps don’t count,” Scootaloo said. “Since Princess Luna can instinctively locate herself in all eleven dimensions with exact precision at all times, the other fliers get enchanted maps, that's just fair.”
“Eleven dimensions?” I said.
Rainbow said, “I asked that same question at race registration last month and Luna blasted my butt with a lightning bolt and accused me of ‘insolent lèse-majesté’ and threatened to scramble my brains into twelve dimensions. Then she apologized and bought me n’ Scoot lunch. But she still never answered the question.”
“What’s a princess do with prize money?” I wondered.
“She multiplies it by a thousand and donates to Manehattan Children’s Cancer Hospital,” said Scootaloo. “She’s the best princess, but lots of ponies still don’t like her, just ‘cuz she’s so weird and creepy and has explosive bursts of anger and lightning. Not fair.”
“Don’t call Luna ‘best princess’ where Twilight can hear,” said Rainbow.
“If you like her,” I asked, “why you trying to beat her?”
“Luna’s a good sport,” Rainbow said, “if you remember to call her ‘your royal highness’ after you kick her flank. At least, she's a good sport now that she’s joined Alcoholics Anonymous and gotten sober. Last race, two years ago, she was hungover and mean.”
I remembered her Midnight Blue Royal Hotness from the party after the Storm King, and rubbed my chin. She was definitely the top 25% of Equestria’s royal attractiveness. Maybe I could ‘Your Royal Highness’ some dapper Dapperpaws charm at her after the race. Maybe this flying race wasn't as bad after all?
No. No, this was gonna be bad.
“If’n you got a magical map,” I asked, rather reasonably, “why y’all need me to navigate?”
“Ballast, essentially,” Scootaloo said. “Your seat is at the center of mass and your weight dampens the instabilities inherent to the flying-wing design. Don’t squirm during takeoff or landing.”
I looked at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow shrugged and said, “I’ve no idea what that means, either.”
“Sunset Shimmer also scored us some supercomputer time in the mirror world,” Scootaloo said. “She told me she would explain what she had to trade for it when I was older. Sounded valuable and something she only would ever have one of.”
I opened my mouth to explain to Scootaloo.
Rainbow glared me into silence and mashed a big red button with her hoof. The whole flier vibrated, a high-pitched whine grating my ears.
Scootaloo turned around in her seat and offered a hoof for Rainbow Dash to bump, then for me to pawbump.
I pawbumped, but I wasn’t really feeling it. Since she’s an orphan, though, I felt like I needed to play nice. Nocreature pawbumped me when I was her age.
“Practice run number three!” Scootaloo said. “Fuel pressure?”
“Low,” Rainbow said, tapping the gauge. “We’ll get some altitude and then switch to a fresh tank.”
“‘kay,” said Scootaloo.
“Capper?” said Rainbow Dash.
“Uh-huh?”
“Seatbelt,” Rainbow Dash said. “Seriously. Airsick bags are in the armrest compartment by your right hoof... paw.”
“Can I have a helmet?”
“Only required for foals.”
“What if I said I was a kitten?”
“We only have one helmet. The filly gets the helmet, in case I pull a rainbow dash,” said Rainbow Dash.
We was at six thousand feet, a few miles south of Canterlot, heading back toward Ponyville, when everything went wrong.
And, not that I would never presume to send I-told-you-sos at precious pigheaded pastel ponies, the problem was them bottled dragon farts.
Rainbow Dash yelled, “Four hundred knots, Scoots! Luna’s flier never broke three-forty! And we've still got half our RPMs left!”
“What's a knot?” I asked, also yelling. “What’s an RPMs?”
(Pretty much all the rest of this scene was ‘yelled,’ so I might just write ‘said’ or ‘asked’ or whatever from now on, we cool?)
“Control’s getting mushy, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo said. “Let’s switch fuel tanks before we flame out!”
“What’s flame out?” I said.
“You’re way louder than our last ballast-navigator,” said Rainbow.
“I’m not sure Fluttershy is ever going to forgive us,” Scootaloo said. “I’m making her an ‘I’m-sorry’ gift basket.”
“Terror is good practice for her, as much crazy as we get in Ponyville. Switching from dragon fuel tank one to tank two... now!” Rainbow reached up with her wing and yanked a lever.
So, this is the point in the story where I thank Rainbow Dash for insisting I buckle up my seatbelt earlier. Thanks, Rainbow Dash.
The flier lunged forward, like we'd taken a kick in the pants. The engine screamed and everything started shaking.
“Aaaaahhhhhh!” Rainbow Dash said, her forehead smashing into her controls, since she was facing backwards.
“Gggaaaaaaaaaaalllllp!” Scootaloo said, accidentally pulling back on her controls and tilting us into the sky.
“Aaaaagggghhhhhrrrgghhhh!” I said, fumbling for the compartment with the airsick bags.
“What the heck, Scoots?” said Rainbow.
“What did you do, Rainbow Dash?” said Scootaloo.
Rainbow said, “We’re up to five hundred and ten!”
“Did you shove it down into overdrive?”
“I switched to tank two!” said Rainbow.
I glanced out a window. The ground looked very far away, and we was climbing about vertical, and accelerating. I ain’t no aeronaut, but accelerating while pointing straight up seems impressive to me.
“Here come negative gees,” Scootaloo said, “sorry!” She wrenched forward on her controls. My head felt like a balloon getting inflated and my vision turned red.
I coughed a hairball into the airsick bag. Promise, a hairball.
We levelled off. I ain’t got no way to judge, but I think we were higher than any mountain tops.
“Cut the power, Scoots!” Rainbow said.
“I did! Throttle is back, past the click!”
“What?” Rainbow said. “You mean you clicked the click-click?”
Scootaloo screeched, “The click clicked! The damn engine is off!”
“You can’t say damn, damnit, Scootaloo! I’ll get in trouble with the damn orphanage! And the engine’s redline!”
I didn’t have nothing to contribute to the panicking pastel precious ponies’ conversation, but I did have another hairball, so I coughed it up. I do need to be more careful with my grooming.
“Ohhhh. Rainbow Dash...” Scootaloo said. “Tank two was the tank we collected during Spike’s molt... do you suppose it’s, uh, supercharged?”
I shouted, “You bottled super dragon fart? And didn’t tell me? We needs to discuss trust and boundaries!”
“Well, we didn’t mean to!” they both shouted back in unison.
“Rainbow Dash... jettison the fuel tanks,” Scootaloo said. “We’re over the Everfree wilderness, they won’t hurt anypony.”
“Are you sure you clicked the click, Scoots?”
“It must have burned out the regulators, I can’t shut it down. The throttle is clicked back past the clicky-click. Jettison!”
“Scoots, we’ll have to sit out the race without fuel!”
“Jettison, Rainbow Dash.”
Rainbow reached a wing up against the acceleration and pulled a different lever.
The acceleration stopped.
“Can you put it down, Scoots?”
“I gotta put us down! Capper and I can’t bail out like you can!”
“Ain’t’chu a pegasus?” I asked.
“Not the time or place!” Rainbow said.
“Shut up, you two! I’ve gotta concentrate!” Scootaloo said.
I’m unaccustomed to kittens (or fillies) telling adults to shut up, but given as she had the controls, I wasn’t too excited to complain.
We was coasting, and with the engine dead, the only sounds the whistle of the wind over airfoils and the dead engine spinning in the slipstream. Not that the quiet stopped the precious pastel ponies’ piercing yells as they bickered.
Scootaloo leaned forward, helmet against the canopy, looking around. “We can touch down on the highway heading into Ponyville. It’s straight enough.”
I looked at the enchanted map. We were already almost to Ponyville, Canterlot way behind us. Them super dragon farts must have boosted us more than I thought.
“Scootaloo?” Rainbow Dash said. “It’s farmer’s market day in Ponyville.”
“The brakes are good. We won’t get into Ponyville.”
I said, “Was there discussions vis-à-vis bailing out? Wasn’t we discussing that?”
“I can’t fly!” Scootaloo said. “You might land on your feet but I land like a wet sack of potatoes!”
Well, orphan pegasi pastel ponies who can’t fly probably would enjoy flying machine contests. I’ll give Rainbow Dash points for good intentions if not good judgement.
But I wish I’d stayed in jail. Pony jail ain’t so bad.
I heard the sound of the wheels lowering and the whole thing began to shimmy. Scootaloo landed us down onto the dirt road leading into Ponyville.
We was bouncing around, the wheels only staying on the highway a few seconds at at time. “How fast is we going?” I asked.
“Two hundred knots!” Rainbow Dash said.
I still don’t have any clue what that means.
“Rainbow Dash....?” said Scootaloo. She sounded unhappy.
“Meh?” I head Rainbow Dash huuuuuurrrrrrl into her airsick bag. The flight engineer seat in the back didn’t have no windows, and that makes airsick worse.
“Rainbow Dash, we haven’t got any brakes....” Scootaloo said.
My ears perked up. “I ain’t as concerned vis-à-vis dragonfire as I am about what y’all just said.”
Rainbow moaned, “You said the brakes were—huuuuuurrrlll—good!”
“Well, I guess I was wrong! When we blew the fuel regulators maybe it took a brake line.”
“Huuurrrrlrllllll!” came a noise from Rainbow.
The whole flier jerked left and we dodged passed a stallion dragging a cart.
“Did you just dodge a pony?!?” Rainbow shouted.
“I missed him!” Scootaloo said.
“Ponies? Why are there ponies!”
“We’re coming up on town, Rainbow Dash!”
“How can can we be coming up on town?”
“The laws of physics, Rainbow Dash! It's downhill. We’re—eep!” Scootaloo mashed a control and we popped up, the wings groaning, bouncing us over a mint-green unicorn and off-white earth pony walking down the dirt road.
"Huuurrrrllll!" I agreed.
"Slow down! I see spots—hurrrlllllll!" replied Rainbow.
We hit a bump. Both our airsick bounced out of our bags, all over everything. Rainbow and I both stopped bothering with the bags.
The town swelled in the front window. We was slowing down but not by much. Carts and individual ponies jumped or flew out of our way as we careened down the Canterlot-Ponyville highway. Dust swirled around and flames was coming from under the bottom of the flier to lick the bottoms of the windows.
We passed the train, whose tracks ran parallel to the highway there, like it was sitting still.
We careened into town, Scootaloo yelled, "Look out, guys, I got a license to fly!" She popped the flaps again and we jumped a couple of farmers' market stalls, smashed down, yanked a left onto a different street. The right wingtip was clicking against against mailboxes, chopping them down.
Scootaloo yelled "Eeep!" and popped the flaps again and pulled our nose up, but by then we were slow enough it just dug the tail into the dirt and we jerked forward again, spinning, and crashed...
...into the fence in front of the jail.
I helped the other two climb out of a hole in the side of the flier, looked Scootaloo all over for injuries, wiped some blood from the gash in her forehead out of Rainbow's eyes, and walked straight into the jail, and asked for a cell.
Scootaloo and Rainbow hugged goodbye, both of them shaking but neither crying, Rainbow smeared with her own airsick, and smearing it onto the filly's coat. They let Scootaloo go, obviously, her being a filly and all, and Officer Enforcer walked her to the hospital to get checked out.
Ponyville jail wasn't so bad, really. It smelled clean, other than the airsick Rainbow and I hadn't been allowed to shower off, and they gave us food that mighta been bland but was better than anything I ever got in Klugetown, jail or otherwise.
It was a tiny jail, only two cells. Since Rainbow's a mare and I'm a tomcat, they put us into the two separate cells. There was heavy curtains we could close between our two cells, their concession to the jail being suddenly mixed-gender that day. Rainbow sat on her cot on the far side of her cell from me, thrashing her tail, frowning, and snorting.
An older mare came in.
Rainbow trotted to the bars and said, "Um, hi, Mayor Mare. Nice day, huh?”
The mayor looked at me, cocked an eyebrow, and then walked to stand just in front of the bars to Rainbow's cell. "That qualifies as 'pulling a rainbow dash,'" the mayor said, "I'm sorry, really, I am, but I have duties and responsibilities. Foal welfare is a big one."
Rainbow gasped, bit her lip, and jerked a single nod.
The mayor reached through the bars, gently brushed Rainbow’s cheek with a hoof, said “I am sorry,” turned around, and walked out.
Rainbow Dash rolled up into a ball on the floor, and started sobbing. Bawling.
I moved to the bars that separated our cells and said, "What's the mayor mean?"
"I can't... if I went a year without pulling a rainbow dash, the mayor would have let me apply to adopt Scootaloo. But I pulled a rainbow dash. Stupid Rainbow!" She wrapped her wings around her head and started crying harder.
She was actually screaming in anguish. The chief stuck his head in, checked out the situation, and then left again. Rainbow was shaking, whole body spasms.
I sat down on the floor, against the bars between our two cells, and patted the floor just inside her cell. “I ain’t one of your five friends, but I’m here.”
Rainbow looked at me, eyes pink and snot dripping from her nose, blood from her cut forehead dripping down her cheek, and crawled over to me. She leaned against the bars, curled up into a ball again, and kept bawling.
I could only reach as far in as my elbow, the bars bein’ so close together. I put one paw on her back, patted and rubbed gently between her wings. It was the best I could do, through the bars.
I think she appreciated it, though.
She said, "Scoots has it so hard... and I screwed it up even worse."
She cried all night, and fell asleep about dawn.
The next afternoon, the police chief let Scootaloo in.
"Scoots!" Rainbow said. "What's up? What's the word? Did you call somepony to throw our bail?”
Scootaloo looked at her hooves and pawed the floor.
"Well," Scootaloo said, "Pinkie is baking a huge catering order for Rarity's fashion show. She can't leave Sugarcube Corner. Fluttershy just curled up in a ball and went catatonic when I told her what happened. I don’t think she liked her ride on the flier at all. Angel bunny tossed me out. Starlight Glimmer answered the door to the castle and said Twilight was 'sleeping off a time travel doozy' and Starlight needed to stay there and keep an eye on the princess's concussion.”
Rainbow said, “I didn’t know alicorns could get concussions.”
Scootaloo continued, “Spike offered his comic book fund, but he’s a minor and can’t post anypony’s bail.”
"What about the lovely Rarity?" I asked.
"Still gone," Scootaloo said. “Maybe the next train?”
"Applejack?" Rainbow asked.
Scootaloo sat down and looked at us. She blushed and shuffled her wings. "After I told her what happened, Applejack said, 'Scoot, you're gonna drive me to drinkin' if you don't stop drivin' that hot-rod LIN-CON.'"
Author's Note
With apologies to "Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen." Written while listening to their song "Hot Rod Lincoln."
Youtube / safe for work:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HS_Sje2vQs
