Sky Captain and the Equestria of Tomorrow

“... and if you don't talk, your family, your friends, your pets are gonna pay!”

Scootaloo sighed as she listened to the interrogator attempt to force information out of the helpless pony tied to a chair. An old rag that had been stuffed into her mouth earlier now lay on the steel table before her, discarded and forgotten. The vibrant blue mare was wearing a plain blindfold that prevented her from seeing anything, the only precaution that could really be taken at this point.

The Sky Captain herself was glancing about the room that she was currently consigned to. The only thing surrounding her were plain white walls and a speaker from which blared the rowdy stallion in a trench coat who seemed bent on screaming his victim into submission. Another mare occupied the seat next to her, the young unicorn's mellow green eyes glazed over as she imagined herself in a more peaceful and happier Equestria.

The gaze of the orange pegasus then swept down to focus on a small video feed of the room. The bleached walls once more stood as harsh judges of the malefactors forced to divulge their every secret and lie within. The large rectangular table would house the instruments of torture that occasionally eked out a response from the unfortunate soul chained to the seat that was currently occupied by a stolid, taciturn mare.

Small flecks of spittle flew from below the mustard-yellow stallion's moustachioed lip and spattered upon the tired-looking face of the mare. He seemed to be speaking with calculated, self-controlled anger, his mouth quivering as he issued dire threats. “You don't wanna see other ponies suffer because of you, do you? Because I swear I will, and I'll start with you. You wanna know the pain your family will go through? We can arrange it. Right here, right now. Have you ever felt a corkscrew in your eye? How about a red-hot poker in your thigh? You ever seen a grown mare cry? 'Cause you're about to, and that's no lie.”

Scootaloo leaned toward a small microphone, clicking a button. “That will be enough, detective.”

The stallion in the room straightened at once, composing himself and stalking haughtily from the room. The mare's face remained expressionless, her dark blue eyes unflinchingly focused on the sparse table that further boxed her into her prison. Her muzzle housed a miserable grimace that sucked whatever life had remained in the room into her dismal complexion.

The pink mare sitting next to Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “That's what happens when you hire a stallion that does poetry in his free time.”

Scootaloo nodded her head in silent agreement, then rose from the comfy cushioned chair that she'd been lounging in, the seat spinning slightly on its axis as she set her hooves on the tiled floor with a light tap. She passed by the mustachioed detective on his way out the door as she made her way in, the foreboding monolith giving her one last chance to turn back before she entered the room with the super-mare.

Shaking off her uneasiness, the Sky Captain thrust open the door to the room.

Within, the blue mare continued to stare at the table, unmoving and uncaring that a new pony was entering.

Scootaloo strolled calmly into the room, past the mare, and seated herself on the side of the table opposite her guest. She steepled her hooves together, looking directly at the pony who had tried to kill her. “Who are you?”

The mare paused for a moment, then her face rose. She looked directly into Scootaloo's eyes, piercing through the veil of the blindfold to suck the soul right out of the unsuspecting pegasus. She felt herself pulled into a trance.

“Take the blindfold off.”

Scootaloo felt her hooves acting of their own accord, reaching up to remove the mask and revealing the creature's beautiful blue eyes.

“Now, release me.” The earth pony's seductively sweet voice oozed once more into Scootaloo's ears, compelling the fascinated orange mare to rise from her seat and begin walking around the table.

The door flew open, arcing a full 180 degrees before slamming into the wall and cracking it. The detective stomped furiously toward the earth pony, anger in his eyes. The commotion snapped Scootaloo from her reverie, and she took the situation in at a glance, immediately restraining the angry interrogator from pummeling the smug mare into a pulp.

“Just wait 'til I get my hands on you, you piece of trash! I'll smash my hoof in your face so hard, you'll look like trash!”

“That doesn't rhyme, detective... it's the same word. Please, go back outside and practice some more. I'll take care of things in here.” Scootaloo smiled disarmingly at him, eliciting an embarrassed snort and a surprised hoof-scuff upon the floor, his rage immediately quelled in the face of such an impressive and attractive mare reassuring him. He turned around and left the room once again.

Scootaloo returned to her seat opposite the mare, looking once again into her eyes. “You can break out of here at any time. Why aren't you?”

The earth pony smiled. “Took you long enough to figure that one out.... Because I don't mind being cooped up in here. You can't hurt me. Neither can any pony in this building.”

“So why stay?”

The mare paused for a moment. “I dunno... bored, I guess? Wanted to see what you'd do.”

“What's your name?”

“There's a lot of power in a name... Scootaloo.” She leaned back easily, ignoring the thrill of shock she sent through her interrogator. “I also know Detective Verse Burst lusts after me and is a masochist—somewhat disgusting to deal with such a loathsome creature, wouldn't you agree? And Officer Parsley, who is also listening to this conversation, is attempting to veil her repulsion as we speak, despite her morbid fascination with colts that aren't even old enough to know what love may ever be—“

“That's enough,” Scootaloo declared. “Just tell me your name.”

“Oh, tsk, tsk, you're no fun... but very well. Let's even the playing field somewhat.” A flicker of a smile crossed over the mare's eyes, her white mane swishing slightly as she shook a stray lock of hair out from in front of her face. “My name is Lela Jetsam.”

A brief glimmer of puzzlement shot over Scootaloo's face. “That doesn't sound like a name I've heard anywhere.”

Lela let out a small chuckle. “I'm not a pony you've seen anywhere.”

Scootaloo had to think fast. Her tactics weren't getting her any information; she felt as if she was dangling from the tip of this mare's hoof and couldn't seem to climb up and gain the advantage. “So... how do you have your powers? You're an earth pony; your powers are with the earth, not gravity or magnetism like a pegasus or unicorn.”

Lela smiled, her features scrunching slightly as the grin split her face to reveal two rows of white teeth. “And wouldn't you like to know just that?”

Scootaloo sighed, scraping her wooden chair away from the table and turning to the side before sliding forward and landing upon her hooves. “I'm not getting anything from her. I have things to attend to. Good luck with the rest of this investigation.”

In truth, she felt uncomfortable around such a pony. She'd prefer to never have to meet another creature as odd as this one.

She stalked carefully across the room, feeling Lela's eyes focused on her retreating form, then darted through the opening door as Verse Burst trotted purposefully past her, his eyes set angrily on the mare who had insulted him.

After the door shut, Scootaloo approached the seat that Officer Parsley was occupying, her face still a marginally brighter pink around her cheeks where she'd been blushing. “I have to go. Our prisoner will probably kill the dear detective before he can lay a hoof on her. I would suggest you stop the interrogation at once.”

Lela looked directly at the camera that resided in a forgotten corner of the interrogation room and spoke to it. “She's right, Officer Parsley. See you again soon, Sky Captain Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo shuddered, then departed the room.

A lonely dog fighter swooped steadily through the clouds that covered the miserable world below, its shark's mouth and tiny teardrop-shaped eyes quietly parting the air in front of it.

A single pony stared into the expanse of white roiling shapes in front of her, considering the world she'd been thrust into taking up the mantle of the heroine for.

Was this world even worth her help? It was languishing, slowly dying as its ruler squeezed every last breath of well-being out of the once happy and beautiful land. Even with her and her crew acting as a vanguard to keep the land safe, the leadership was doing nothing to change it. Princess Celestia seemed content to sit on her flank and watch as her beautiful Equestria dwindled to nothingness; what was Scootaloo's purpose in trying to counteract what the nation's goddess wished upon her subjects?

Yet, as she saw the patchwork of land asthmatically crawling beneath her, she remembered her purpose: to defend ponykind, whatever the reason. It was foolish nobility and utopian ideals, but it was the Equestria she was striving to create for her fellow earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns, whether they be mare or stallion, young or elderly, friend or foe.

She chuckled softly as she imagined the last thing on her list. It was almost a chess game against Princess Celestia at times; she'd met the princess on a token few occasions when she was just a filly, and the impression was enough to give her reason to believe that their beloved and benevolent dictator had lost something of herself over time.

When strolling the streets one day, she'd overheard some savvy business-ponies discussing what had happened to Princess Luna. They said that, due to pressure from her sister, the defender of the night had since receded to protect only such a thing, never showing her face when Celestia deigned to pass a new law or creed that furthered the miserable lives of the ponies. Princess Luna was still around; she was little more than a whisper on the tail of the dreams ponies had of their existence before the industrialization of their homes and lives, but she was there nonetheless.

Scootaloo missed the Equestria of the past. She missed her old friends, the stallions and mares she'd gotten to know when she was still awaiting her cutie mark. They were the best days of her life.

She wiped a hoof across her stinging eyes and refocused on the clouds, pushing such thoughts out of her mind. This was still Equestria, her Equestria... and it was her duty to defend it.

As she reaffirmed her resolve, the orange mare noticed a break in the cloud cover and glanced downward, quickly nodding her head in satisfaction. She tilted the wheel to the right and her plane banked to the side, slowly falling below the cover to lay out the ground below her.

She was over water at the moment, heading directly for a familiar-looking island. Smiling in relief, the Sky Captain thought to herself, Home sweet home.

The small plane arced gracefully toward the island, which housed an enormous hangar, several blimps and other various models of aircraft, a handful of fuel tanks, and a bridge which extended to connect everything to the nearby mainland. Scootaloo, however, set her sights on the massive airfield near the hangar.

She brought the plane in to land, the light craft skipping a handful of times as its wheels sought purchase on the tarmac expanse, and finally came to rest near the large structure. She punched a few buttons, the propeller sputtering as it was given its time to rest and the cockpit making a loud k'chunk as it unfastened from the frame, allowing Scootaloo to push it up and outward and rise gratefully from her seat.

She clambered over the side of her plane, landing lightly on her hooves, then removed the brown scarf from her face to reveal a bold yet beautiful mare looking determinedly at the hangar. She removed the cap she'd been wearing, revealing a full mop of purple hair nestled atop her head. She swished her messy mane back and forth a few times, everything blowing about and coming to rest in a somewhat more refined manner, forming a large upturned point at the end. Tossing the miscellaneous clothing items back into the cockpit, she began trotting for the hangar.

The large doors opened casually as Scootaloo performed the same rite she did every time she came home. She found a worker bustling about nearby, pointedly asking, “Where's Apple Bloom?”

The technician pointed a hoof toward a booth across the vast main room of the hangar, where a familiar-looking pale yellow mare was sniffing at a strange substance on the floor, her red tail twitching thoughtfully all the while, a chemical-seared white lab coat adorning her lithe body.

Scootaloo steeled herself, then trotted up to her friend. “Uh... hey, Apple Bloom. What are you doing?” Do I even wanna know?

Apple Bloom rose from where she'd been crouching low to the ground, beaming at Scootaloo. “Experimentin'!” She went to a nearby table, righting an overturned vial that seemed to have launched its viscous contents to the spot she'd been inspecting. A small amount of the bubbly green fluid remained within, a small wisp of smoke still escaping out of the neck to evaporate into the air.

“Experimenting on what?” On second thought, I definitely wanna know.

“Well, ya see, Ah've been workin' on producin' a chemical that reacts so powerfully, it'll make the container explode when it impacts. Ah think Ah perfected it... gimme a sec to whip up some more.”

Scootaloo watched in fascination as her friend disappeared briefly to toss several more vials of fluid onto the table, tore off her current outfit in favor of a fresh new one, then arrayed the small glass bottles in a row on a wooden tray that held them upright, mumbling to herself as she organized them in a specific order, then knocking herself on the head while saying, “Phosphoric goes in before nitric, silly filly...” and rearranging several of the dangerous-looking fluids.

Her preparations complete, the technician then retrieved an empty vial and began pouring in minute amounts of the chemicals that she'd set up, going from left to right, her small, furtive monologue feeding her measurements and steadying her hoof. As she readied herself to add the final drop to her concoction, she readied a stopper.

The moment the drop touched the surface of the mixture, it began to react, bubbles roaring to life and threatening to escape their prison. Apple Bloom immediately shoved a cork into the top, the acid beating upon the rubber angrily before retreating downward once more to brood and plan its next attack.

“Gotcha!” came the delighted mare's victorious declaration. She turned once more to Scootaloo, producing the vial in front of her. “Now, if this'n works the way it's supposed ta, you can throw it and it'll blow up.”

Scootaloo smiled encouragingly. “Cool! Show me?”

Apple Bloom happily obliged, holding the vial in both her hooves and shaking vigorously. Mid-shake, the cork shot violently away from the vial and the dangerous brew launched like a projectile through the air, arcing out to splash once more in a dangerous pile of goo upon the floor.

Apple Bloom grumbled, “Horseapples!” before dashing once more to the pile and sniffing it. “Guess Ah used too much again... it's a work in progress.”

“You'll get it right... but there's something more important I have to talk to you about.”

“Well, shoot! Ah ain't never heard o' nopony what got magnets in their hooves!”

“She can control the minds of hundreds of ponies at once, and you're focusing on that?” Scootaloo smiled warmly, the familiar conversation with Apple Bloom comforting and reassuring her. “Well, start with the simple stuff first, I guess. Any idea what would let a pony grip my plane like that?”

The pair were taking a stroll outside, letting the slowly retreating sun splash their late afternoon in vibrancy and pastels that captured their imaginations and reminded them of the beautiful land they once knew. It was as if they were fillies all over again.

Only one thing was missing.

Scootaloo jostled the cobwebs back into place in her head and refocused on the topic at hand.

“Ah got no idea!”

“I see. Guess that's a good place to start.”

“Did ya bring any of the affected ponies with ya? Ah oughta see if somethin' changed about 'em, maybe.”

“Well... there's me.” Scootaloo glanced down bashfully. “She fascinated me, remember?”

Apple Bloom lost a little of her vigor. “Ah, yeah... that. Nothin's changed about you.” Several seconds later, her face once again lit up with a new idea. “Can we take a lookit yer plane?”

Upon further inspection of the wing, it was revealed that the places the mare had stepped left small indents on the metal. “So, it seems like she was usin' some kinda force t' keep herself there. Was she wearin' any boots?”

Scootaloo shook her head.

“Hmm. How about saddlebags?”

“Scootaloo gave another shake. “Naked as a newborn foal.”

“Huh. Now that don't make any sense. Ponies ain't strong enough t' dent metal this tough with just their bare hooves, 'specially not a scrawny one like y'all described. Ah'd say t' keep 'er sedated; she's a lot stronger than she looks.”

“She's probably already broken out after killing several ponies,” Scootaloo stated matter-of-factly. “She was speaking with confidence, not trying to bluff me. She would stay there till she got bored, then she'd leave... entertaining herself along the way. Something like that. It'll probably be in the papers tomorrow.”

“Huh. Glad ye're all right.”

Scootaloo shifted uncomfortably. There was some business she needed to take care of. “So am I. I gotta go freshen up for a little while in my office, though. You get back to experimenting on that explosive liquid; I'm sure we can find a use for it.”

“Righty-ho, Mr. Boss-Mare! Back t' work!”

Scootaloo departed from the airfield, once again retreating into the shelter of the hangar and trotting purposefully to the opposite end where a series of offices lay. She found the one with the title “Captain Scootaloo” emblazoned upon the window set within the door, then opened it and moved inside, seeking out and smartly seating herself on a chair located in the middle of the cramped dark room.

Arrayed around her were the familiar shapes of filing cabinets and charts and other miscellaneous navigational equipment she used to chart journeys. These were ignored briefly as Scootaloo chose first to sit down at her desk. She flipped on a lamp, then opened a drawer and withdrew a bottle that said “Milk of Celestia,” then withdrawing a shot glass and filling it to the brim with the strange white drink.

As she tilted her head back and swallowed the bizarre-tasting liquid, a voice from the corner of the room said, “So that's your secret.”

Scootaloo reacted instantaneously, reaching to her side to withdraw a gun using her wing, then placing it within her mouth. She bumped the lamp with her hoof, causing it to shed its light upon the ochre unicorn that had been watching her.

The intruder spoke. “Hello, Scootaloo.”

The Sky Captain sighed, placing her gun upon the table and visibly relaxing in her chair. “Hello, Snips.”

“It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Uh... yeah.” Scootaloo looked a little uncomfortable. “Look, why are you here? I'm a little busy trying to save the world and stuff.”

“And, if you recall, I happened to save you in your latest endeavor.”

“Yeah? And?”

A smug smile split Snips' face down the middle. “I offer my services as a traveling compatriot.”

While amused, the orange pegasus kept her face very passive. “And what possible reason could I have to want to bring you with me?”

“Well, perhaps I will end up saving your life once again!”

Scootaloo let out a sigh. “I don't need another pony to worry about. Besides, your talking will probably get us both killed.”

Snips' glibness would not be swayed. “And I will just as likely save your life, as my past actions have proven!”

“Yeah, like that's ever going to happen again.” He was desperate for... something. “Look. What happened between you and me, that's ancient history. You're nothing but bad memories for me. So just go home, please?”

Snips huffed. “I would go home if I could. Snails and I are... no longer business partners. That's all I'm going to say until you agree to take me with you. I need to get away. Maybe go on an adventure. Take my mind off of things. Anything.” He seemed to be getting more and more agitated. Scootaloo decided to interrupt him before things got any worse.

"You realize what you're getting yourself into, right?" Scootaloo's expression could no longer hide her incredulity at the brashness of Snips' offer. "You saw what we're dealing with. You'll be nothing but dead weight—and dead sooner rather than later, I imagine."

"Look... I'm nothing but dead weight everywhere I go. Perhaps I can be of service to you. I don't know what this new mystery is, but I want to be front and center to watch the fireworks."

“Fine, fine... you can come along for a little while. But at the first sign of danger, I'm ditching you. Got it?”

“Got it!” Snips then proceeded to spit on his hoof and offer it to Scootaloo.

Scootaloo spat upon her own hoof and pressed it up against that of Snips, sealing the deal.

“Now, tell me what's going on with Snails. Did the two of you have a falling-out?”

“Well...” he began, “you could call it that, yes. He said something about becoming tired of what he referred to as 'underhanded tactics.' He thinks I'm a cutthroat! A con man! A miscreant! He told me that until I can learn how to tell the truth, I have no place in his corporation. Then he fired me! His public relations representative! Can you believe it?”

“Uh... yeah, I can.” Scootaloo was feeling quite uncomfortable now. The Milk of Celestia was taking effect. “Look, we can talk about this on the way to the next place I'm going. I gotta go take care of something. Go wait out by my plane or something.”

Snips hopped off the chair. “I would be happy to!”

Truth be told, Scootaloo felt sorry for the little unicorn. After she'd become estranged from him, Snips had been struggling a lot in his life. It would stand to reason that he be here today, hoping she would take him away with her.

And, though she knew she would end up regretting it later, she accepted it. Just like that. Very little hesitation, very little convincing. She knew he would keep talking until he got what he wanted, so she spared herself the time wasted in between.

This was going to be a rough trip.