"Looks like someone's having fun."
Spitfire rolled her eyes. "Another hotshot with more balls than brains who thinks that big numbers and a reckless disregard for human life make him a shoo-in for the Wonderbolts. Seriously, when did we change our recruiting slogan to 'Assholes Wanted: Apply Within?'"
"Around the same time they let you become a Bolt?" Soarin gave Spitfire a cheeky smirk that screamed "insubordination."
Spitfire responded with a murderous glare that would've made a lesser man wet himself. "Remind me why I haven't court-martialed you yet?"
"Because Fleetfoot thinks that paperwork is something that only happens to other people." The smirk never left his face. "So, how many poor souls are we gonna send to the Academy this year?"
"Twenty-nine so far, but I'll probably add one more to round it off." Spitfire smiled in gleeful anticipation of next week. "They're a bright-eyed bunch this round; ain't gonna know what hit 'em."
"You scare me sometimes. So, you done with the interviews, then?"
"Almost." Spitfire pulled the folder in her arms a little closer, trying to hide it from Soarin's view. "Just got one more to get through before I can get some R-and-R."
Soarin leaned over to glance at the papers she was carrying, his eyes narrowing as he saw the name on them. "Spitfire…"
"Don't, Soarin." This time, the look Spitfire gave him made Soarin pause. "I already know what you're going to say."
"Spitfire, I know how much you like her, but rules are rules." Disapproval and concern laced his voice as he spoke in that parental tone Spitfire detested. "We can't break them just because we want to."
"I know," Spitfire repeated, picking up her pace as she headed to the interview room.
"Then why? Why give her hope? It's just going to make it hurt that much more when you have to say no."
Spitfire's head drooped. "I – I just had to give her a chance."
Soarin snorted. "What chance?" he asked as they reached the plain wooden door that led to Spitfire's final destination. "What she wants – what you want – is impossible."
"Then it's a good thing the Wonderbolts specialize in doing the impossible, huh?" With a cocky grin that hid the turmoil assailing her heart, Spitfire pushed open the door, leaving Soarin behind.
The room they used for interviewing potential recruits for the Wonderbolts was actually an old interrogation room that had been repurposed after the building had been converted from a police station to a Wonderbolt HQ. Spitfire had kept the décor mostly the same, since she liked making the applicants sweat a little before she talked to them.
There was no fear in the eyes of her final interviewee, though. The young woman sat on the hard metal chair with her back straight and her eyes forward, a perfectly expressionless look on her face befitting a trained soldier. Her head snapped towards the door as Spitfire stepped in, her purple eyes widening almost imperceptibly. The harsh incandescent lighting gave her orange skin an almost ethereal glow that reminded Spitfire of what one her most trusted lieutenants was capable of.
Spitfire dropped the applicant's folder on the desk, uncaring as to whether the other woman read what was written on the pages that spilled out.
Purple eyes met orange as neither side spoke for a few seconds, a battle of wills silently raging between them that Spitfire was surprised she hadn't instantly won. Finally, the Wonderbolt Captain sighed.
"Why?"
The Wonderbolt hopeful didn't even bother pretending to be confused at the sudden question. "I had to try, ma'am," she said simply, her tone perfectly polite and appropriate for addressing a superior officer.
Spitfire pulled out the rest of the papers from the folder, putting them in full view of the interviewee. "You already know what this says." A statement, not a question.
"Yeah." A little bit of fire in her voice as she answered, a defiance that made Spitfire want to smile. "I've got the third-highest test scores in the written evaluations, the highest score on half the physical tests and the second-highest on the other half, I've got loads of experience flying a plane, and a perfect psych profile for the job."
"Cut the crap, Scoots," Spitfire said, all humour fading away. "You know what your medical file says."
Scootaloo frowned. "Yeah, I do. I also know that you can waive the Medical DQ."
Spitfire shook her head. "The Wonderbolts are the best of the best. Our members have to be in peak physical condition, even beyond the usual requirements, and they have to be able to trust each other to perform their duties completely. I can't waive the disqualification for you, no matter how much I want, without compromising the founding principles of the Wonderbolts.
"But you knew that already. So, why even bother applying?"
"Because I couldn't look at myself in the mirror if I didn't do everything I could to try to get in," Scootaloo replied before shooting Spitfire a small grin. "'Sides, it's not like I haven't seen the impossible happen all the time since I was in high school."
"Sorry, but unless magic can fix your genes, my hands are tied." Spitfire tried to give Scootaloo an encouraging smile. "You know, there's plenty of civilian jobs that'll let you fly. With your skills, you'd be hired on the spot. Why didn't you apply for one of those positions?"
"Because I don't just want to fly, I want to fly as a Wonderbolt."
"What's so special about being a Wonderbolt? And don't just give me the same generic shit about wanting to help people and defend the country you put on your essay; I know Twilight Sparkle helped you write it."
"I do want to help people and fight to protect them if I have to," Scootaloo replied petulantly.
"And we have lots of support roles you could've applied for instead if that's all you wanted to do."
There was a moment of silence as Spitfire loomed over Scootaloo, the smaller woman never backing down despite the intensity of the situation.
Finally, Scootaloo spoke, her words coming out in a near-whisper. "Dash used to take me flying, you know."
"Uhh, yeah, I was there." Scootaloo had been a common sight at many of their outreach programs, having ridden with Dash during a few "fly with a Wonderbolt" events.
"No, not that." A pause. "Well, that too, but that's not what I'm talking about. Back when we were all in high school, Twilight made a special harness – I'm not really sure how it worked – that let Dash take me with her when she flew."
"That sounds ridiculously dangerous." Spitfire's eyes narrowed in disapproval.
A shrug. "We were dumb teenagers. And Dash would've caught me if I fell off." There was absolute confidence in her voice.
"Fine, so you flew around with Dash back during her superhero days. So what?" She needed to know. Needed to see how much Scootaloo wanted this. "Everyone who joins the Bolts loves flying. It's in our blood."
And then Scootaloo shook her head, a sad smile that made Spitfire feel like she was the recruit. "You don't get it, ma'am." Her voice wasn't haughty or condescending, just matter-of-fact. "It's like… you ever tried to explain what flying as a Bolt is like to civvies?"
Spitfire nodded, and Scootaloo continued speaking. "You can't, right? There's just, I dunno, maybe it's because I'm not a genius like Twilight, but there aren't words for it. It's something you have to feel."
Once again, that light flashed in Scootaloo's eyes, a fire that was almost magical. "I can't explain what it's like to feel the clouds condensing on your skin when you pass through them, or what it's like to ride a thermal up and up and up like a roller coaster ride, but a million times better. Just like how you can't explain what it feels like to pull off a perfect aileron roll in formation.
"I talked to Dash before I applied to the Wonderbolts. She asked me why I wanted to join, too, even though the odds were worse than one in a million. You know what I told her?" She took Spitfire's silence as permission to keep going. "I didn't want to join the Wonderbolts because I fooled around with some civilian planes and wanted more. I want to join the Bolts because it's the closest I'll ever get to flying with Dash like that again, because when I'm doing a barrel roll or an Icaranian Sun Salutation, I can almost feel – just for a couple seconds – like I'm a pegasus from the other side of the portal. Because sometimes, I dream that I have wings like Dash, and that I'm flying through the air like a bird beside her, and when I wake up, my body feels so heavy."
The longing in her voice was all too familiar to Spitfire, and she kept quiet as she waited to see what Scootaloo would say next. It was a couple seconds before the hotheaded potential recruit got her voice back. "You know, there's a quote that Twilight shared with me once, about flying. 'When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the Earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been—'"
"'–and there you will always long to return.'" Spitfire finished the quote for her. "Yeah, I know that one. Hard to believe that Golden Mean never flew before, because he nailed the feeling. So, what did Dash say when you said you were settling for being a Bolt?" There was no disapproval in her tone at being a consolation prize; Spitfire had seen Dash's abilities up close, and she couldn't ever fault someone for wanting those powers more than anything else.
This time, Scootaloo's smile was a little more genuine. "She laughed and told me she was looking forward to smoking my ass in the training dogfights."
Spitfire allowed herself a soft chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds like Dash." Then her eye caught Scoot's medical file lying on the table, like a big bucket of ice water just waiting to douse her humour and Scootaloo's fire. "Well, I can't say you don't have a special reason to want to be a Bolt, and there's no point going through all the other questions. If Dash didn't think you had the chops, she would've stopped you already." And she knew Scootaloo well enough to know that there wasn't anything keeping her from the Bolts, except for that one damn piece of paper.
"So what's the verdict, ma'am?" It was wholly inappropriate for Scootaloo to ask that during the interview, but they were way beyond formalities now.
"I'm sorry, Scoots," Spitfire said slowly. "There's no way I'd be able to justify waiving your medical DQ, not with the quality of the applicants we have this year. It's too much of a liability, and I still have people above me I have to answer to. All the passion in the world can't change that."
Scootaloo sighed, her smile becoming brittle. "I knew it was a long shot," she said, a false cheer in her tone that hurt Spitfire to hear. "Thank you for the consideration, ma'am. I won't waste any more of your time."
As she motioned to stand up, Spitfire spoke. "You know, I talked to Dash about you before this interview. She's been keeping up on your progress during the testing phase, and she wanted to vouch for you herself."
Scootaloo froze. "She did?" Her voice trembled with emotion.
"Yeah, you're like a little sister to her, and you're a great pilot. She'd do anything to have you by her side." It was now or never, Spitfire told herself. "I said the same thing to her that I did to you, that I couldn't let you into the Bolts because of your condition."
Before Scootaloo could reply, Spitfire pulled out a second, smaller folder from her jacket. "The interview for the Bolts' position is over," she said, very officially. "Everything beyond this point is off the record." She set down the other folder in front of the ex-Wonderbolt hopeful.
"What's this?" Scootaloo eyed the documents suspiciously as she sat down again.
"Highly confidential state secrets." Spitfire infused all the seriousness and solemnity of her office into her voice. "It's treason to show these to anyone without the proper clearance. Wouldn't want the world to find out that the military has someone with superpowers doing missions off the books."
Scootaloo's eyes widened in understanding before she even opened up the folder on Dash's activities outside of the Bolts. "She never told me about any of this," she whispered as she read through the reports. A rescue deep into hostile territory where every aircraft was being shot down before they could get within fifty miles of the asset. Sabotaging fuel lines on the eve of an attack. Recon in places deemed too dangerous to send aircraft in.
"Your personal hero is still also a superhero," Spitfire said. "And a superhero needs a sidekick. Someone who can keep a secret, someone we can claim plausible deniability on if things go south, and someone Dash can trust completely on the field."
"And she wants me to be that sidekick?"
"No." It hurt to see that hope die in her eyes, but Spitfire had to be honest about this. "She thought it was too dangerous. She doesn't want to see you hurt. But I think that you've proven that you can keep her secret, and you are qualified to be a Bolt in every other way. You're our best candidate for the position, and you just showed me that you have the conviction needed to succeed.
"If you want this position, I'll give you a job on our support staff, which I'll expect you to perform in addition to extra training sessions with Dash after hours. I'm not going to lie, this is going to be tough; we're going to push you to your limit, and then some, and it's way more dangerous than anything even a Bolt would sign up for.
"But if you do it, you'll be able to fly like one of us, and you'll be able to make a difference in a way that only you can. So, what do you say, Scoots?"
It was clear that she didn't even have to ask. "You can count on me, ma'am!" The salute she gave her was crisp, clear, and perfectly executed. "I'll prove to Dash that I'm the best person to have by her side."
"I thought you'd say that." For the first time since the interview started, Spitfire allowed herself a smile. "Welcome to the Wonderbolts, Scootaloo. Let's make your dreams of flying come true."
Author's Note
