Dear Princess Celestia,
I have received your letter regarding the downing of Flight 759, and am most distressed to hear that my consort has been reported missing, presumed dead. In light of this, and the involvement of a de Hoofilland Constellation in the crash, I would like to request that I myself am allowed to oversee the official investigation. I realise you might wish for me to take sufficient time to recover from the ordeal, but I cannot rest knowing that a repeat of this disaster may yet claim further lives.
Hoping you understand.
Your faithful student,
Princess Twilight Sparkle
Princess Celestia looked up from Twilight's letter, unsure how to react. She had already known her former student would be none too happy to hear about the crash, but the last thing she had expected was for her to request that she herself take part in the investigation.
“What do you intend to do, Tia?” asked Luna.
Her older sister pondered. “Well...by rights, I shouldn't really be dragging Twilight into all this – not in her state. However, I do concede that this air crash constitutes a major national crisis and international catastrophe...”
“Because of Ambassador Yehuda?”
“Yes, because of Ambassador Yehuda,” affirmed Celestia, “but also due to the involvement of the Constellation. Under the circumstances, we will need all the help we can get in identifying the cause of the disaster, so if Twilight wishes to offer hers, she has my leave.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this? I would think it unwise to put any further pressure on Twilight than necessary.”
“Yes, Luna, I realise that,” answered Celestia gravely, “but this aircraft has spent nearly six-hundred million bits to develop, much of it from government grants. This isn't just an airliner we're looking at – it's a major status symbol for Equestria and its air industry, and unless we can work out the cause of the crash, tens of thousands of lives could be at risk. From here on in, we must leave no stone unturned, no faults undetected – the cost of solving the Constellation mystery must be reckoned neither in money nor in horsepower.”
“Well...if you insist,” conceded Luna uncertainly.
“One thing's for certain, though,” added Celestia. “On the basis that a highly important Saddle Arabian diplomat has been lost to the tragedy, the Arabian Safety Council will want to be in on the investigation as well, so before I reply to Twilight's letter, I must first inform the Sultan.” She then nodded to Raven Quill, who levitated over a quill and a sheet of parchment at the ready...
On the other side of the Titanic Ocean, the morning sun hung high over the arid landscape as Solaris, the wise immortal who ruled over Saddle Arabia, discussed plans for a new dam project and rail link in the north of the kingdom with his advisers. They were just in the middle of working out a suitable route for the new railway to follow when the doors swung open, and a sphinx messenger came into the throne room, bowing respectfully the moment he reached the sultan. “Pardon me for the interruption, Your Majesty,” he apologised, “but I have a message for you from Princess Celestia of Equestria. It's about our ambassador, Yehuda El Equuis.”
“About El Equuis, you say?” asked Solaris, looking up from the relief map he always used to plan new projects in his kingdom.
“My information is that the plane on which he and his attaché were travelling back to Saddle Arabia has crashed into the Titanic Ocean only a few miles away from the Bermuleda Islands with a total loss of life,” explained the sphinx. “They think nearly nine-hundred others must have gone down with him.”
Solaris paused, letting the information sink in. Yehuda El Equuis had been one of his finest diplomats, and at first he could only mourn for the late ambassador's passing – but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that this was no ordinary plane crash. Most airliners could only carry a few hundred passengers, yet his messenger had informed him that nearly nine-hundred had been killed in the disaster, even though the plane had come down well short of the nearest landfall.
“Did Celestia mention which model of airliner was involved?” he inquired at last.
“As a matter of fact, Sire, yes she did,” affirmed the messenger. “She said that the flight was Royal Equestrian Airways Flight 759 from Manehattan, and the plane was a de Hoofilland Constellation.”
“The Constellation, eh?” mused Solaris. “Well that would explain a lot. I presume then that she wishes for us to assist in identifying the cause of this disaster?”
“Yes, Sire. She says it's absolutely vital if they are to assure the future of the Constellation and safeguard the lives all who travel on it.”
“Very well then.” Solaris turned to his vizier; “Have the Safety Council dispatch a team of air crash investigators to Equestria at once.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
In the back garden of a luxurious Abu Dhonki penthouse, Colonel Panthera, one of Saddle Arabia's finest aviation metallurgists, was dozing laxly underneath the warm sunshine. He barely seemed to hear the sound of the telephone ringing in his office; but the noise alerted the attention of his spider monkey aide-de-camp, who was slouching across a desk chair as he enjoyed a light snack of pistachios. Startled by the sudden interruption, he sat up with a loud screech, spilling his snack on the floor in the process as he made a grab for the receiver.
“Colonel Panthera's office, Major Spyder here...yes, General? ...Yes, sir.........what?! ...what?! ...wha-a-at?!?! ......I'll alert him immediately...yes, sir!” Spyder slammed the telephone back onto its holder and ran out into the garden. “Colonel? Colonel Panthera?”
His superior didn't reply.
“Colonel! Colonel, wake up!” shouted Spyder frantically. “We've got an emergency! The world needs our help! We need you to be awake!”
But this had precious little effect on Panthera. Anxious to alert his attention, Spyder tried everything he could to awaken him – he shook him, prodded him, tugged his ear, tickled his nose – he even tried banging loudly on a drum; but ultimately, nothing worked.
In desperation, Spyder reached into a nearby bush and pulled out a small water pistol. “WAKE UP, COLONEL!!!” he screeched, squirting water into the slumbering sphinx's face.
Coughing and spluttering, Panthera woke with a start; but his alarm turned to annoyance when he saw his would-be attacker. “Ugh...Major Spyder, how many times do I have to remind you not to wake me up with a water pistol?!” he demanded indignantly.
“Well, what else was I supposed to do, Colonel?” protested Spyder hysterically. “I receive a telephone call about an air crash, and here you are sleeping your head off and not bothering to answer me when Sultan Solaris wants you to take part in the official investigation!”
“An air crash? Where?” asked Panthera, forgetting to be cross.
“Near Bermuleda, sir – but that's not the half of it! Ambassador Yehuda's been killed in the same crash, and nearly a thousand others with him! We've gotta find what caused it, or we're all DOOMED!” Spyder screamed out loud. “DO YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID, COLONEL – DOOMED! DOOMED, I TELL YOU! DOOMED!!”
“Okay! Okay! Control yourself, Spyder!!” shouted Panthera. Spyder ruefully subsided. “Now, what does the General want me to do?”
“He said to fly out to Equestria immediately, and that he'd send a team of investigators with us. We're to meet up with a team from the Royal Transport Safety Executive in Manehattan.”
Panthera nodded, secretly grateful that he could keep up with a fast talker like Spyder so easily. “Very well,” he replied grimly. “Tell him we'll be at Abu Dhonki Airport as soon as we can.”
“Yes, sir! Right-ho, sir! Right away, sir!” answered Spyder, giving Panthera a quick salute and turning to head back to the office.
“And one more thing, Spyder...”
“Uh...yes, Colonel?”
“I'd leave that water pistol here in Abu Dhonki if I were you,” warned Panthera bluntly, “or else I may have to reconsider your rank.”
Spyder gulped. “I'm in for the high jump, aren't I? Oh, grief, I wish I'd paid more attention to sports lessons when I was still in school! How is it going to look if I get the sack?!” he rambled nervously. “How do I know it's got enough pistachios in it to keep me going...”
“Spyder!”
“AAGH...er, I mean...yes, sir!” and Spyder scurried off back to the office. With a loud yawn, Panthera stood up from the sun lounger and followed him inside.
Having gained Celestia's permission to oversee the investigation, Twilight and Spike chartered a special train to take them up to Starswirl Airport. They arrived in Manehattan by first light the following morning, followed two hours later by the investigation teams from both sides of the Titanic Ocean.
The Royal Transport Safety Executive team's lead investigator, a structural engineer unicorn named Dr Tailspin Rotor, was understandably surprised when he found that Twilight would be personally supervising the inquiry, especially after hearing of her loss. “You needn't have troubled yourself with all this, Your Highness,” he said.
“I have to,” answered Twilight stoically. “Nearly nine-hundred lives have been lost as a result of this tragedy, including that of my consort, and if we don't work together to determine the cause, tens of thousands of other passengers and airline employees could suffer the same fate. As Princess Celestia's finest student, and a member of royalty in my own right, I consider it my duty to ensure that this never happens.”
Rotor pondered for a moment – and then nodded. “You make a valid point there,” he mused gravely. “Very well then, Princess Twilight Sparkle, we're at your disposal.”
“Thank you. Now, first things first; what measures have you taken to avoid the possibility of another crash in the short term?”
“Royal Equestrian Airways have already agreed to ground their Constellation fleet until further notice and are checking the remaining planes over for any potential faults as we speak,” stated Rotor. “Air Prance and Pegasus Travel Ltd will be flying theirs back to Starswirl over the course of the next three days.”
“So do we have any idea what might have caused this crash?” asked Spike hopefully.
“None whatsoever, I'm afraid, Spike,” admitted Rotor. “Anything's possible at this stage – faulty engines, short circuits, structural failure, pilot error...the field's wide open.”
“So what evidence do we have so far?” inquired Panthera. “I realise it's a bit early in our investigation, but I just want to be able to paint a picture of what might have happened.”
“Well, Colonel,” replied Rotor, “according to the news reports immediately after the crash, the aircraft appeared to be structurally and mechanically sound during boarding and take-off – yet eyewitnesses from the Bermuleda Islands claim that they saw burning wreckage falling from the sky to the west of the islands at between ten and five minutes to eleven.”
“Okay, so we at least have a rough idea of when it disappeared,” Panthera summarised.
“Airport Controller Speedbird has also informed me that, around the same time, Lemberg Radar Station and the captain of REA Flight 378 reported a loss of contact with the plane,” Rotor went on. “This evidence alone would appear to suggest an in-flight break-up.”
Spike raised an anxious eyebrow. “You don't think accidental fire breath from a dragon might have caused it?”
“I should think it highly unlikely, Spike,” said Rotor. “World Airline Regulations dictate that all passenger aircraft interiors be fireproofed before entering service. Even the carpets and seating fabric have to be doped with fire-retardant, so there's very little risk of a fire taking hold inside the cabin of...well, any airliner, let alone a Constellation. That alone points towards a rather worrying possibility – sabotage.”
“So...you're saying somepony could have planted a bomb aboard that aircraft or something?!” Spike's eyes widened in shock.
Spyder went into a frenzy at this notion. “Sound the alarm!” he hollered frantically. “Call the police! Alert the army! We need to track this guy down, corner him in a cave, tie him up, shoot him down, kill him with fire...”
“Spyder, we're doing nothing of the sort!” interrupted Panthera sharply. “We need to find out what exactly happened to that aircraft first, and then, only then, do we take action.”
“But Colonel, if we don't hunt that maniac down immediately, then it'll all result in death! DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID, COLONEL – DEATH! DEATH!!!” Spyder screeched hysterically, causing everyone else in the room to cover their ears and eliciting a frustrated growl from Spike.
Panthera directed a stern glare at the hyperactive primate. “Listen, Spyder,” he snapped, “we're taking every measure to ensure that the cause is identified and remedied – but if you keep overreacting every time one of us comes up with a theory, then how in Solaris' name can you expect us to do so?! Now do try to control yourself!”
With a meek nod, Spyder retreated to a corner of the room and stood facing the wall with his hands against his head, almost as if a firing squad was about to shoot him. Panthera rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Twilight and Rotor; “You'll have to excuse him, I'm afraid, Your Highness,” he apologised. “He does tend to get a little overexcited does Major Spyder.”
“That's quite alright, Colonel,” replied Twilight, pretending not to mind. “But getting back to the sabotage theory,” she went on, “what I want to know is who could have had a motive to destroy such an iconic aircraft.”
“Well, I can hardly see it being a terrorist attack,” observed Spike. “The only ones I can think of offhand who might consider such a thing would be the changelings, and even they would have a hard time what with all the precautions we tend to take nowadays.”
“True,” agreed Twilight thoughtfully, “which means that either a rival aircraft manufacturer or airline was involved, or there was some sort of fault in the Constellation.”
“Either that,” put in Panthera, “or it might still have been aimed at passengers and/or crew rather than the aircraft itself.”
Rotor blinked. “How do you mean, Colonel?”
“In as much as Yehuda El Equuis had been dubbed one of the finest ambassadors ever to have served under Solaris, there may yet have been a jealous few who might have wanted to topple him from his position, even if it cost him his life,” explained Panthera gravely. “Since he assumed his role two months ago, there had been three attempts against him by an unknown assailant; and for all we know, this 'accident' could well have been yet another of these.”
“Except that this one would have been far more successful than the rest,” mused Spike, and the others murmured in agreement. “Still, it seems a bit extreme, killing nearly nine-hundred passengers and crew just to get rid of an ambassador. If they wanted him dead, why didn't they try killing him here in Starswirl Airport instead of making a massacre out of the whole thing?”
Panthera shrugged in reply. “Your guess is as good as mine, Spike,” he admitted with a wry half-smile. “It's only a theory, anyway – even I don't know if there's any truth behind it.”
“Well, we're not going to find the answer just sitting here,” said Twilight decisively. “Our only hope of doing so is if we can recover the remains of the plane – starting with the black boxes.”
“The what now?” asked Spike, visibly confused.
“The on-board flight data recorders,” Twilight clarified. “One records the diagnostics of the aircraft – thrust levels, control surface settings, cabin pressure, altitude, airspeed, etc. – and the other records all conversation and various other noises in the cockpit. If we recover those, we can get a better idea of what happened up to the moment of impact.”
“Easier said than done,” said Spike doubtfully. “That wreckage could have spread for miles after the Constellation broke up – it'd probably take years to find them.”
“Not likely,” Twilight assured her dragon assistant. “Black boxes are enchanted with powerful locator spells before being fitted; all it takes to find one is a unicorn, a salvage vessel and some divers.”
“Ah – well, that should make things a little simpler,” remarked Spike. “So what's our next move?”
“Well, firstly, I'll need to get in contact with the Navy and tell them I want a salvage team dispatched to Bermuleda,” stated Twilight. “But even with them seeking out the wreckage and the black boxes, we'll need a team of Pegasi to fly them back to Manehattan so that we can reconstruct the downed plane and find out where the break-up started.” The lavender-coated alicorn gazed thoughtfully out of the window; “And I think I know just the ponies...”