//------------------------------// // Mistaken Identity // Story: M.A.N.E. // by BRBrony9 //------------------------------// The ambassador was back again. This time Princess Celestia had been joined by Shining Armour who, in addition to his role as commander of the Royal Guard, also acted as Celestia's primary military adviser. There was one point that he continually stressed- that there would be no winners in a nuclear war. If things went that far, both nations would die. It was as simple as that. He also told her, however, that in a conventional war, Equestria was more than likely to come out on top. They had more jets, tanks and ships, their ponies were better trained, and their equipment was more advanced. The USR's primary advantage came from their numbers- military service was compulsory there, whereas the Equestrian forces relied on volunteers. Through numbers alone, they could potentially overwhelm any invasion force. Though Shining Armour and the other chiefs of staff were confident that Equestria could force a beachhead in the USR if they ever attempted to invade, there was no guarantee they would be able to maintain that beachhead long enough to expand it. On top of that, there was always the threat of a nuclear attack on the landing force, or on their homeland by way of retaliation. 'Your Highness.' Ambassador Silver Birch bowed deeply with a flourish, just as he had on his last visit. 'Thank you for agreeing to see me again on such short notice. I have a matter of the utmost importance I must discuss with you.' Celestia nodded. 'Of course, Ambassador. What seems to be the problem?' He glanced at Shining Armour briefly before continuing. 'Early this morning, the USR air defence network picked up an unidentified radar track at high altitude as it passed over our southern coastline. It proceeded rapidly north, passing over the cities of Marescow and Pony Novgorod, before turning east and flying over several top secret military installations. It then turned back south and exited our airspace over the sea. You, of course, would know nothing of this, I assume?' With a smoothness born of centuries of diplomatic practice, Princess Celestia frowned as if she were deeply troubled by the news. 'You can rest assured, Ambassador, that the Equestrian government would never authorize such an incursion. I can assure you that, whatever you detected, it did not come from here.' 'Are you certain, your Highness? Because the flight profile indicated its most likely point of origin was somewhere in western Equestria or Saddle Arabia, your ally, and we have detected six other such incursions in the last month alone.' Her frown deepened. 'You have my solemn word, Ambassador. The flight of whatever it was did not originate in Equestria.' 'As you say, Your Highness. Please, forgive my impropriety,' Silver Birch said, though his expression belied his apology, suggesting he still had his doubts. 'I was merely instructed by Stalliongrad to ascertain the source of this incursion.' She nodded sagely, as if in forgiveness. 'Of course, Ambassador. I understand completely. You may tell your superiors what I have just told you. This incursion did not come from Equestria.' 'Thank you, Your Highness. If I may make my report...' She nodded again, and he bowed and trotted from the hall, the great gold-gilded doors closing firmly behind him. Celestia turned to Shining Armour. 'Impressive, Your Highness. If he wasn't such a cynic, he might just have believed you.' She smiled at his words. 'You almost had me believing that story!' 'I spoke nothing but the truth,' she said, her smile widening. 'The flight originated in Saddle Arabia, as you well know, and I had nothing to do with it.' It was Shining's turn to smile. 'Who did you get to sign off on it this time, Your Highness?' 'Air Marshal Typhoon. After all, it is an Air Force project, so I thought it was only fair he got to approve one of his own operations from time to time.' The Air Force's reconnaissance programme had been operating for less than six months, but already it had proved itself an invaluable resource. The high-speed, high-altitude recon aircraft, taking off from an airbase in Saddle Arabia, provided a plausibly deniable source of aerial photographs of sensitive locations within the USR, including missile launch facilities, airfields, naval dockyards and air defence sites. The sleek, dark-blue aircraft were the cutting edge of Equestrian aerospace engineering; propelled by two hungry jet engines and a rocket booster for high-speed sprints, they could fly at three times the speed of sound, at an altitude of eighty thousand feet, totally outclassing the USR interceptors. They were, in the grammatically terrifying jargon of the Air Force mess halls, 'unshootdownable.' They roamed with relative impunity over the USR, taking high-resolution photographs of whatever the USR didn't want them to see. This latest flight had explored the air interception bases around Marescow and Pony Novgorod, avoiding the capital city, Stalliongrad, and swinging east to overfly the ballistic missile silos strung out along the plains south of the Coltcasus mountains. As Shining Armour had explained to Celestia, the photographs the jet had taken were not particularly useful in assessing any developments at the missile sites- since most of the activity there was underground, not much appeared different from the last time they had devoted a mission to investigating them. There was no indication of whether the missile bases had been put on a higher state of alert due to the recent tensions. The only thing of note was that there were a few more cars and light trucks clustered around the command building, but that could have been for any number of reasons- shift change, maintenance, some kind of inspection. Shining Armour missed the USR's older missiles- they had been liquid-fuelled, which meant when they were placed on high alert a reconnaissance flight would see groups of cryogenic tanker trucks parked around each silo as they filled the missiles with fuel. As soon as they had the technology, the USR switched, like Equestria, to solid fuel. This was safer to store, led to faster launch times because the missiles were already fuelled and ready, and meant they would travel faster in flight and reach their targets sooner. 'He knows you were not telling him the whole story,' Shining Armour continued. 'But even if you were, Stalliongrad would never believe it. If I didn't know any better, I would say they are trying to start a war.' Celestia nodded slowly. 'I fear you may be right, Commander. Perhaps we should suspend the reconnaissance flights until further notice. What effect would that have on our military capability?' 'Very little, to be honest, Your Highness. I think we have learned all we are going to learn from such flights about their launch sites and radar networks. Further flights would merely provoke them, and we would have no new information to show for it.' She nodded again. 'Very well. Tell Air Marshal Typhoon that, effective immediately, there are to be no more incursions into USR airspace without my direct authorisation.' 'Yes, Your Highness,' Shining responded. 'If they wish to lead us to war, let it be on their own heads. I will take no action that will lead us down such a path,' Celestia said. 'Let us see whether their next step will be forwards or backwards.' Royal Air Equestria Flight 106 was running late. First, they had had to wait for a passenger's baggage to be offloaded after he neglected to turn up for his flight. This delay caused them to be stuck behind three other jets that were waiting to take off from Manehattan's Princess Celestia International airport, and now a slight headwind was slowing them down still further. On the flight deck, Senior Captain Jetstream relaxed in his seat. The autopilot was engaged and would be flying the plane for the next three hours, as it had done for the last three. They were approaching the point in their route, from Manehattan to New Zebraland, that would take them within ten miles of USR airspace, but by now the trip was routine for Jetstream and his experienced crew. They were out over the sea now, having left Equestria behind half an hour earlier. Off the starboard wing lay the USR, the jagged coastline and bleak cliffs appearing relentlessly grim and foreboding in the dim moonlight.Their aircraft was one of the largest in the company's fleet- a four-engined, high-tailed monster capable of hauling nearly 500 ponies in air conditioned comfort over vast distances and at considerable speed. The Air Force used the same model of aircraft as electronic surveillance platforms, intercepting USR radio and other electronic emissions and analysing them. On this particular flight, the aircraft was not full; it was carrying 411 passengers and 12 crew. Commercial air travel was not yet a truly big thing in Equestria. Pegasi could always fly wherever they wanted to go under their own power, and for shorter distances rail travel was often faster. Coupled with that, the military tended to all but monopolize certain items, such as jet engines, for their own uses, buying up the entire monthly output of certain companies in advance to ensure their own supply. The airlines consequently tended to have small fleets of aircraft, and passenger travel was generally for long distance and intercontinental travel, although freighters did ply their trade along some domestic air routes on a regular basis. On a similar basis and for similar reasons, there were not many cars in Equestria- plenty of trucks and buses, and plenty of governmental and military vehicles, but not many cars in private hooves. In some ways, Equestria was very traditional, despite its rapid industrial and military expansion over the last hundred years. They were getting very close to the USR now. Jetstream thought idly to himself that it almost looked as though they were actually over land, not over the sea, but the autopilot was following its preprogrammed course, and unless there was an error in the navigation system, that couldn't happen. The lights of small, scattered coastal villages twinkled below them. They were flying in one of the high altitude airways- only long range airliners and military flights operated at these altitudes. Theoretically Pegasi could flap up this high using nothing but their wings, as long as they had an oxygen supply and an insulated suit. Strangely enough, nopony had been pioneering enough to try it yet. 'What the bloody hell?' The sudden outburst from his copilot, Morning Star, startled him. A quick scan of the controls showed nothing untoward, and he was puzzled until he saw Morning Star's outstretched hoof, pointing. Ahead of them, slightly off to the port side, another aircraft had suddenly appeared. It was obviously military, though it was a type Jetstream did not recognise. The swept-back wings, twin exhausts and the array of missiles slung under its fuselage gave it a menacing appearance. It rocked its wings gently from side to side, its navigation lights flashing. Navigation... 'Where the hell did he come from?' Morning Star asked. 'Why didn't we pick him up on our traffic radar?' It must be from the USR, which means we are in their airspace... The interceptor waggled its wings again. Is something wrong with our nav computer? Are we off course? 'We need to respond...' Jetstream said. 'Why hasn't he tried to contact us on the emergency channel?' 'Do they use different frequencies?' Morning Star asked. 'The emergency channel is universal,' Jetstream replied as the fighter waggled its wings and flashed its lights for a third time. 'They know that as well as we do. If he tried to contact us, we would have heard it.' 'So, what, his radio is out or something?' Morning Star said questioningly. 'Doesn't he know the standard procedures? Do they do things differently in the USR?' Jetstream shrugged. 'I don't know. Broadcast on the emergency channel, let him know who we are.' 'Can't he tell? Can't he read the damn name on the side?' Morning Star asked. The words Royal Air Equestria were stencilled on the side of the aircraft in large letters, as well as the illuminated company logo on both sides of the tail. 'Maybe he thinks we've been hijacked.' The USR jet suddenly pulled up and disappeared from view. 'Where'd he go?' Morning Star asked, glancing up from the radio. 'He must have dropped back astern,' Jetstream answered, beads of sweat starting to form on his face. 'I think we're off course,' he said tensely, glancing out of the windscreen at the coastline below. 'Look at the coast. We shouldn't be this close to it...in fact, I think we're over land. Something must be wrong with our navigation system.' 'Then he probably thinks we're a spy plane or something! He probably thinks it says 'Royal Equestrian Air Force' on the side!' 'They speak the same language,' Jetstream said. 'He can read it, and they know the name of our national airline.' They do, don't they? Every pilot learned the correct response to an interception, but Jetstream had never been intercepted before, never expected he ever would be, and he was a little rusty. He reached forward and flicked the autopilot off with his hoof. 'I have control,' he called, grasping the control column as the autopilot warning buzzer sounded. 'Send that damn message.' 'Interceptor, interceptor, this is Royal Air Equestria 106. We believe we are suffering from technical problems and have entered your airspace accidentally.' The radio crackled with static, but there was no response. 'Interceptor, interceptor, this is Royal Air Equestria 106...' Morning Star repeated his message. Jetstream began gently rocking the airliner, dipping first the port wing, then the starboard, letting the fighter jet know they understood him. But it was too late. The airliner shuddered suddenly, throwing the flight crew forward in their seats as if they had flown into a brick wall. The cockpit lights flickered and several blood-red warning lights flashed on across the top of the instrument panel; Master Warning, engine fire, hydraulic failure. A harsh warning buzzer began sounding, and Jetstream could hear panicked screams from the cabin. He pulled the extinguisher tab and cut the throttle on the burning engine, then worked the fuel feed panel to cut off the fuel supply to it. 'Celestia! He's trying to shoot us down!' Morning Star shouted, his voice cracking. No shit... A high pitched beep alerted him to another problem. The cabin depressurisation light was blinking furiously at him. The attack must have punctured the thin aluminium skin of the airliner. 'Pressure warning,' he shouted. 'Get your mask on.' He reached down beside his seat and pulled on his oxygen mask, connected directly to a tank of emergency oxygen beneath the floor of the flight deck. He saw Morning Star doing the same. First course of action was to get the airliner down to 10,000ft where the atmosphere was breathable. He throttled back the remaining engines and pushed the stick forward. 'Starting emergency descent. Get on the radio! Emergency channel!' Jetstream said, tuning the primary radio to the last Equestrian air traffic control centre he had spoken to and keying his throat mic. Out over the sea, airliners were rarely in contact with ATC for the simple reason that there were no controllers in such places. There was no civilian primary radar coverage over the sea, so controllers couldn't track aircraft directly, and though they were over the USR now it was an all but uninhabited peninsula with nothing but a few small villages. And an interceptor base, evidently. 'Mayday, mayday, mayday, Seaddle Centre, Royal Air Equestria 106. We are under attack by USR aircraft, one engine out, cabin pressure warning...' No reply. Jetstream didn't really expect one- he doubted anypony was picking up his transmission. He was more concerned with the fact that the airliner wasn't responding to his control inputs. The nose was stubbornly refusing to go down. Maybe Morning Star will have more luck on the emergency channel... 'Interceptor, cease fire! Cease fire! You are attacking a civilian aircraft!' he screamed into the microphone. No reply from the jet, either. Jetstream rammed the stick forward again, but nothing happened. Shit, the hydraulic warning... He scanned the instruments. The primary hydraulic system was non-functional, damaged by the missile or gunfire that had hit them. The backup system should have been taking over...he tried moving the stick from side to side, and the plane responded, banking gently. But he could not move the plane up or down. The elevators must be out... He pressed on the rudder pedals with his hind hooves. And so is the rudder...he must have hit our tail. 'Aircraft declaring a mayday, Seaddle Centre, please repeat your message.' The faint voice in his headset...the air traffic controller! 'Mayday, mayday, mayday. Royal Air Equestria 106,' he repeated. 'We have been attacked by USR aircraft. One engine out and cabin depressurisation warning.' After a moment of static, the tinny voice of the distant controller returned. 'Seaddle Centre, copy. What is your current position?' Jetstream checked the navigation radar screen. 'Royal Air Equestria 106, we are over the southern coast of the USR, approximately 100 miles southeast of Maremansk.' 'Seaddle Centre copies. Say your souls on board and fuel remaining.' He glanced at the passenger manifest and the fuel gauges. 'Royal Air Equestria 106, four hundred twenty three souls on board, fuel remaining...' Another explosion rattled the jet and another blazing red light appeared on the instrument panel. Both port engines were now ablaze. He pulled the extinguisher tab as he felt the nose of the jet dropping, unsettled by the explosion. Now they were in real trouble. The jet shuddered like a drunk as the fast moving winds washed over it. Without the autopilot's automatic trim corrections, the aircraft's progress through the air was much more unsteady. There was no way for Jetstream to correct the descent; the tail had been shredded by the first of what he assumed had been two missile strikes. They were going down; sooner or later they were going to hit the ground, and there was nothing he could do about it. 'Mayday, mayday, mayday, Royal Air Equestria 106...' he began, his voice wavering. 'We have no pitch control, two engines out. We...we are in uncontrolled descent...we were attacked by USR interceptors.' Alarms and buzzers were blaring at him, as if they were the voices of his passengers, begging him to do something, anything. 'Seaddle Centre copies all. Royal Air Equestria 106, can you make it back to Equestrian airspace?' Jetstream took a final look at the instrument panel that told him all he needed to know to answer that question. 'Royal Air Equestria 106, negative...this will be our final transmission.' The crippled airliner plunged into an unrecoverable nose dive, fire streaming from its port wing and fragments of smashed metal peeling away from its ruined tail. The interceptor, and its partner that had fired the first missile, followed it down. At ten thousand feet, the port wing gave way, its damaged main spar burned through by the intense heat of the fuel-fed fire. The jet rolled almost leisurely on its axis as it plunged into the peninsular scrubland thirty miles from the nearest town and exploded.