The things we leave behind
“This is so uncomfortable,” Scootaloo said.
“You’ve trained for it.”
“It clips on my wings,” Scootaloo complained. “Every time.”
“You’re used to it.”
“It reeks oil and ozone in here. I don’t like it.”
A heavy sight echoed in the room, quickly followed by two thuds of horseshoes against a metal floor.
“Today’s your big day, Scoot’. It’s okay to be stressed.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Scootaloo ruminated, unable to move as the acrid smell of the building teased her nostrils. She could only watch as she waited to be fully suited up, suspended above a large bench by large nylon straps that dropped from the ceiling.
Whenever a bout of boredom struck her, she looked down through the meshed metal flooring. She watched the agitation in the lower levels as dozens of ponies exhausted themselves on many specific and crucial tasks. Hooves rumbled and clanked through the corridors, reverberating up and down the massive building. Intermittent announcements crackled out of each speaker and intercom.
Scootaloo knew this cacophony. The pony anthill where hooves clobbered metal, manipulated wires and handled cold chemicals and passionless data. This was her doing, her home.
“Are you scared, Scoot’?”
“N-no,” Scootaloo said puffing up with pride that flared pain in her compressed her wing joints. “I’m not afraid.”
Scootaloo let out a squeak, a painful frisson running up her spine as her left hindleg was suddenly shut in a heavy boot that pulled down on the ceiling suspensions.
“Sorry. I’m not usually handling that part of the process.”
“You know I can’t move my neck much in this stupid armor,” Scootaloo mumbled. “If you’re going to lecture me and amuse yourself with the suiting, I would rather see you do it.”
A purple unicorn came in her field of view. Even though Scootaloo was suspended above the ground, they met face to face. The tall unicorn’s smile creased her slightly sagging cheeks, betraying the slow creeping of age. A gray strand of hair streaked her mohawk.
“The suiting takes hours, and you know it, Scoot’,” Tempest said. “You’re not going to escape it. I’m not going to escape it, either. You requested me to do it this time. Why?”
“I wouldn’t trust anypony but my chief of operations for this,” Scootaloo said, beaming. “It’s a really important day.”
“So important you dismissed the usual six ponies who suits you and your teammates?” Tempest shook her head. “Chicken brain.”
Scootaloo squawked a protest and started to swing slightly as she tried to hoof at Tempest’s shoulder.
“It’s just…” Scootaloo grumbled in exasperation as Tempest stabilized her on the straps. “You understand what it feels like.”
“Feels like what?” Tempest asked as she reached out for the other hindleg piece.
“Come on, you know.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes and pointed at her wings. “You understand how it feels.”
Tempest raised a hoof to her forehead. With a heavy sigh, she put the other suit piece down and sat next to her younger counterpart.
“Are you trying to prove a point, Scootaloo?”
“I, uh, ye-”
“No,” Tempest said gently, giving a good rub on Scootaloo’s cheek. “You’re not doing this to prove a point. You already did. Every time you achieved something, built something out of the dirt and created stars in every fillies and colts’ eyes. You proved it there.”
“I...”
“You’ve not made all of those sacrifices for such a trivial matter. It’s a dark road to tread. Trust me.”
As Scootaloo’s eyes lowered and her ears drooped, Tempest reached out and pushed the pegasus’ chin up.
“You do what you do because you’re an amazing mare who fought against destiny and won, in your own way. But you’re not winning now, Scoot’… You already did years ago. You didn’t have your cutie mark yet.”
Scootaloo mirrored Tempest’s smile and, after a couple of seconds, she laughed.
“Something wrong?” Tempest said with a surprised look painted on her face.
“I think your dirty hooves got some spunk on my cheek,” Scootaloo giggled. “It itches so bad.”
“Time to put the helmet on it, then?”
“Wait, no!” Scootaloo hollered, shuffling on her straps until she swung back and forth. “I’d go cray, old fart!”
“Let’s get you prettied up,” Tempest said, sharing in the laughter.
“Don’t you Rarity me.”
Tempest laughed, brushing the brown sludge off Scootaloo’s face with a piece of cloth.
“I’m not a generous, mare,” Tempest replied as she reached again for the hindleg piece and strapped it into place. “But I can make an exception for a lost foal like you.”
“I think I understand Applejack now.”
When Tempest finished an hour later, Scootaloo hit a button on the bench. The ceiling straps released her and she dropped with a heavy thud on the bench.
As the bench retracted into the ground, bringing Scootaloo down to the floor, her suit whistled and pressurized around her legs, body, and neck.
“So, this is it?” Scootaloo asked, an awkward smile on her lips.
“Fifteen years of work compounding up to that very point,” Tempest agreed, setting an earpiece in Scootaloo’s ear.
“You’re really not helping, you know?” Scootaloo replied. “I’m sitting in one of your inventions.”
“I know explosions,” Tempest laughed “Well, let’s say controlled ones. It’s not like I’m giving you one of my early airships.”
“Pinkie Pie told me about those.” Scootaloo forced a wry cough before sharing a smile with Tempest. “They were, um, fun?”
“Pure Roller Coasters.”
“Hey, Scoot’! It’s me,” a familiar voice called through Scootaloo’s earpiece. “Are you ready for this?”
“Yes, I am,” Scootaloo acquiesced. “Thank you for being there, Rainbow.”
Scootaloo nuzzled with Tempest and, after her heartfelt thank, she trotted triumphantly forward to the building’s airlock. Behind stood her future and that of her homeland.
“Remember the time I told you I couldn’t fly? You made me smile. Told me you were proud of me.”
Rainbow Dash didn’t answer. Scootaloo slid her helmet on as the airlock barring her way shifted upward. Light poured inside the corridor. She stepped under the sun and walked down a long, bright orange metal plank.
She was three hundred hooves above the ground. She contemplated a day without a breeze as acres of green, pristine fields sprawled in every direction. Only a couple of white buildings stood several miles away, shining under the ardent summer sun.
In front of her, a rocket ship billowed cold, white smoke as oxygen evaporated from its castle-sized fuel tanks. She smirked as she looked up to the sky… to the moon. Today, she would make history.
“Today, I make myself proud.”
