Spike rested a gentle claw on Twilight's shoulder, noticing how tense and trepid the lavender-coated alicorn had become since arriving at the hospital. “You okay, Twi?” he asked softly.
“I'll be fine, Spike,” muttered Twilight, a twinge of anxiety apparent in her voice.
“You don't have to go in there unless you really feel ready for it,” soothed Spike. “I'm sure Flash will understand if you don't.”
Twilight sighed heavily. “No, Spike – I've been away from him for far too long, and it's driving me crazy,” she replied unhappily. “If I don't get to see him now, I...it'll be like the whole want-it/need-it spell fiasco all over again!”
Spike shuddered as he remembered how Twilight, in her desperation to learn a lesson in friendship that she could report to Celestia, had lost her mind and ended up brainwashing half the town into fighting over a tatty old doll she had lying around. “Yeah, Smartypants I can understand, but the Constellations? That's just asking for trouble!”
Panthera, who had been discussing further theories behind the crash with Rotor for the last five minutes, directed a sympathetic smile towards the nervous alicorn. “You really care for him, don't you, Princess?”
Twilight nodded in reply, still staring into space. “My fellow Bearers of Harmony might have taught me a lot about friendship, but Flash was so much more than that – and still is, in fact,” she murmured. “He means half the universe to me......I don't know what I'd do without him.”
“Must have been pretty difficult, not knowing whether you would ever see him again,” said Panthera gently. “If it makes you feel any better, Your Highness, I think you were very lucky not to have lost your loved one.”
“I'll second that,” put in Rotor. “Thousands are probably still grieving for the loss of the eight-hundred and twenty-eight other passengers and crew. Considering the traumatic injuries they suffered, it's a miracle Flash has lived to tell the tale.”
Only then did Twilight begin to feel better about herself and her consort. With a small tear in her eyes, she looked up and whispered to the heavens, “Dear Faust, I don't know what Flash or I have done to deserve his survival, but...thank you. Thank you so much.”
At last, the stillness in the lobby was broken as a nurse entered. “Princess Twilight Sparkle?”
Twilight stood up. “Yes, nurse?”
“Lieutenant Flash Sentry is ready to see you now.”
With a nod of silent gratitude, Twilight headed down the corridor towards her beloved guardspony, followed closely by Spike, Rotor and Panthera. But even as she approached the trauma recovery ward, she still couldn't shake a feeling of dread for what awaited her. What if she were to enter the room only to find a sheeted body where Flash should have been? What if his bed was empty? With a nervous gulp, she banished these chilling notions back to whatever dark and treacherous canyon of her mind they had come from and opened the door – and sure enough, she saw none other than her beloved Lieutenant Flash Sentry laid out on the bed immediately across the room. His wings were in casts and his chest wrapped up with bandages, but otherwise he didn't even have a single scar left over to remind him of his ordeal. The moment he saw Twilight enter, he gave a soft smile and gingerly held out a foreleg as if to invite her into his embrace.
This did it for the lavender-coated alicorn. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she all but bolted towards him and cried joyously into his shoulder, clinging onto him for dear life, but taking care not to hug him too tightly for fear of damaging his lungs a second time. Choking back a small sob of his own, Flash wrapped his arm around his princess and nuzzled lovingly against the side of her head. From the doorway, Spike looked on with a claw over his chest and a look of relieved happiness on his face; and even Rotor couldn't help but smile upon their long overdue reunion.
A whole minute went by before Twilight finally pulled back from her consort, her eyes still flooded with tears. “Oh, Flash,” she wept, “am I ever glad you're okay. I thought I'd never see you again.”
“You and me both,” murmured Flash solemnly. “That moment where the plane broke up...I genuinely thought that was my final hour.” He gave a small, kind smile as he reached up and brushed her tears away. “Take it easy, Twily – I may have been through the mill, but at least I made it out the other side okay, didn't I?”
Twilight smiled back as she nuzzled against the side of his neck. “You sure did, Flash – and I'm really glad of that. I don't know how I'd carry on without you.”
“Don't you worry about that, Twily. I may be a right cripple at the moment, but there's no way I'm leaving you until I'm called!”
This caused Twilight to stifle a chuckle in spite of herself. Even in such a weak state, Flash still managed to maintain a wry sense of humour.
At this point, Spike decided that now was the time for him and the two crash investigators to make themselves known. “How are you feeling, Flash?” he asked, leading Panthera and Rotor into the room.
“Oh, hi there, Spike,” said Flash, looking up at the purple dragon. “Yeah, still a bit sore from the plane crash, but I'm getting there.”
“Well that's a mercy,” mused Spike. “You sure had Twilight and me worried when we heard you were missing. We didn't think you'd stand a chance when the plane exploded.”
“Nor did I,” put in Flash. “I know us Pegasi can withstand rapid changes in pressure, but if that was anything to go by, I'd say I'm lucky they managed to mend my lungs so quickly.”
“A narrow escape indeed,” agreed Rotor gravely. His expression then became more serious; “Anyway, Mr Sentry, I don't mean to change the atmosphere so abruptly, but am I right in assuming that the staff here told you the reason for our visit?”
Flash nodded. “Yes, they said you wanted to know what happened to the Constellation when it fell out of the sky.”
“Correct. Now, I realise you might not be up to this, and frankly I wouldn't normally ask this of anypony before they've fully recovered,” Rotor continued, “but there's a lot at stake with this airliner, and any evidence you can give us will be invaluable.”
“I'll do my best, sir,” promised Flash.
“Thank you, Mr Sentry,” said Rotor levitating a quill and notepad from his pannier. “Now, you were travelling in the first-class passenger cabin at the time, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was headed for Abu Dhonki for two weeks' furlough, and had been assigned as an aide-de-camp to Ambassador Yehuda El Equuis – purely on an unofficial basis, I might add.”
“So, in other words, you weren't actually required to act as such?”
“No; the job of personal aide actually fell to his attaché, Sandhi Dunah,” clarified Flash. “As soon as we were in the air, I just left them to their own devices while I sat and watched the scenery go by.”
Rotor nodded as he jotted down the information. “So what were your precise actions in the moments leading up to the pressure cabin failure?”
There was a momentary pause as Flash tried to recall the full details of his last moments aboard the Constellation. “Well...seeing as this was my first time travelling on such an aircraft, I decided to try and see how it all worked. I called for a flight attendant, asked her if I could get a look inside the cockpit, she then ran it past the crew, and they said yes.”
“What then?”
“I went up to the cockpit door, paused for a few seconds, and I was just about to open it up when I heard this really loud noise all around me, almost as if a bomb had exploded right next to my ears. At the same time, there was a sudden rush of air, and next thing I knew, I was falling.” Flash couldn't help but grimace at this point as he remembered plummeting out of the sky, forced to watch helplessly as the stricken Constellation tore itself apart. “I could see the plane breaking up a few hooves above me, and there was this horrible feeling of agony in my chest like somepony had run me through with a pike several times over.”
Spike frowned and covered his eyes. “Doesn't bear thinking about,” he muttered.
“Did you at any point see or hear anypony firing a hoof-gun or a magical energy beam before the plane exploded?” Rotor further inquired.
Flash raised an eyebrow. “You think somepony might have deliberately punctured the fuselage? Why the hay would they have wanted to do that?”
Panthera tactfully stepped in at this point. “We're working on the theory that either the aircraft might have been sabotaged, or there might have been an assassination attempt against Yehuda,” he explained. “If the latter case is true, it might be that they'd ended up firing at the walls rather than the ambassador himself.”
“Causing the plane to explode, huh?” Flash pondered the matter for a few moments. “Well, I don't recall hearing any shots, magical or otherwise. There wasn't so much as a struggle as far as I'm aware.”
It was Twilight who raised the last question; “Do you remember how exactly the plane broke up? It might help us find the piece of wreckage we need to identify the cause.”
Again, Flash took a moment to try and remember what happened. “Well, it's still a little fuzzy, but from what I can recall, there was this gaping hole in the roof of the plane, just above where I'd been standing previously. I think the tailplane was the next bit to come off – took most of the rear wing structure with it too. The wing-tips followed along with the leading edges, then the cockpit started to break free...and then I think I must have passed out,” he concluded. “I don't remember anything after that.”
“Hmm...” Rotor scanned his notes with interest. “...just as we deduced from the flight data readings. Right, thank you for your time, Mr Sentry,” he concluded, returning the book and quill to his pannier.
“That's okay, sir,” replied Flash. “Just glad I could be of help.”
“Well, just be glad you're still alive, Flash,” quipped Spike. “Dead ponies don't give useful info, you know!”
Twilight shot a stern glare at her dragon assistant; but Flash simply laughed it off. “I'll bear that in mind, Spike.”
“Anyway,” said Rotor, “we'd best head back to Foalborough and make our report. The sooner we find out what downed the Constellation, the better.” He then turned to leave, but paused just before he reached the door; “Do you still wish to partake in the investigation, Your Highness? We won't consider it dishonourable if you don't – I mean now that we know your consort...”
“It's okay, Doctor,” interrupted Twilight. “At least I know Flash will still be around when we're done – and besides, we still have a duty to protect our airline passengers.”
“Very well, Your Highness,” conceded Rotor. “Come and join us as soon as you're ready.”
“Will do.” Twilight watched as the two air crash investigators made their way back to the lobby before returning her attention to her consort. “Thanks for all that info, Flash. I'm sorry we had to ask so much of you so soon.”
“No need to apologise,” the orange-coated Pegasus chuckled. “You clearly had yourselves a really tough job, trying to work out what happened to that plane – heck, I'm surprised it had any kind of problem to begin with! But hey, as long as I'm helping you make headway, I'm fine.”
Twilight smiled and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Always the chivalrous one,” she murmured fondly. “Take care of yourself, Flash. I hope you get well soon.”
“Thanks, Twily,” replied Flash heartily, as his princess stood up and made for the door. “I'll see you round, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too. Oh, and Twily?”
Twilight stopped. “Yes, Flash?”
“Best of luck with the investigation,” said Flash.
This prompted another warm smile from the lavender-coated alicorn. “Thanks, Flash,” she said. “That means an awful lot to me.” With that, she and Spike headed out of the ward and back to the lobby to join Panthera and Rotor, leaving Flash to recuperate in peace. This had truly been a long overdue moment of relief for the young princess; not only was her faithful guardspony consort very much alive and well – or at least on the road to recovery – but they were now yet another stage further to solving the mystery behind the downing of his plane. With any luck, it would only be a matter of time before the Constellations were deemed safe to fly.
But what none of them could realise was that this was only the lull before the storm...
“...look, I know you're anxious to get those planes back into service, but we still haven't come to a firm conclusion regarding Flight 759......yes, I know all that, but you're just going to have to wait! We're working our tails off to try and solve this mystery; the least you can do is be patient! No......no, I can't allow it, not without royal consent...well you're just going to have to fly it with other planes!”
With a sigh of exasperation, Lord Cloud slammed the telephone back onto its holder and began pacing back and forth in an attempt to relieve the tension. These Constellation airliners had been causing him no end of trouble since the crash of Flight 759, what with the planes being grounded and all the endless interrogation by the world's media, and Royal Equestrian Airways' Head Office hadn't been making things any easier for him either; throughout the five long months they had kept them at Manehattan, they had constantly been pestering him for permission to press them back into service, only to be met with a frustrated refusal. At this rate, he would probably find himself with an alarming hospital bill with all the stress he was enduring.
“This is ridiculous!” he groaned. “How am I supposed to manage the airline industry properly if REA keeps ringing me up every five minutes?!”
Just then, his attention was distracted by the sound of the door being opened. The sky-blue Pegasus looked up to see Prince Blueblood entering the room with a stern look on his face.
“Ah...good afternoon, Sire,” said Lord Cloud, bowing politely. “What can I do for you?”
“Perhaps you could start by telling me why you're taking so long to deliver a verdict on the Constellation superliners,” demanded Blueblood. “We have a major status symbol at stake, and yet you still haven't allowed a single one of those planes back into the air. Now I want an explanation for all this, and I want it now!”
The weary Air Minister let out another sigh. “We're dealing with a major catastrophe here,” he replied. “We can't allow the planes to re-enter service until we have positive proof as to what downed Flight 759. That'd probably take a few months at least.”
“A few months?!” burst out Blueblood crossly. “You've had a team of the finest air crash detectives trying to work that all out for nearly half a year now, and they've discovered absolutely nothing!”
“Sire, it takes more than a few days to explain an air disaster,” insisted Lord Cloud. “They still need to find out whether the aircraft itself was at fault or not.”
“What, a Constellation? That's just preposterous!” scoffed Blueblood dismissively. “That plane was clearly sabotaged – everypony knows that!”
“Well, yes, Sire, but we do have to look at all the facts...”
“To Tartarus with all the facts,” interrupted Blueblood rudely, “we've wasted enough time with that investigation. As the Seventh Duke of Yoke, and a member of the Royal Family, I demand that the Constellation be reinstated immediately.”
Lord Cloud was horrified. “What?! While the Royal Transport Safety Executive is still investigating into the case?”
Blueblood glared at the sky-blue stallion. “You can tell the Royal Transport Safety Executive that they might as well forget about their faulty aircraft theory and give up the investigation altogether,” he told him firmly.
“But Sire...if Princess Celestia should object to...”
“Don't you start talking back at me, Cloud! You're to get those planes back into service, and that's an order!” and before Lord Cloud could protest any further, Blueblood turned on his fetlock and strode out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Lord Cloud frowned, trying to weigh up the options. His gut reaction told him that Blueblood had made a serious error of judgement, and that if he were to allow the Constellations back into the air, the same tragedy that had befallen Flight 759 could very easily strike again – but on the other hoof, maybe the prince had a fairly valid point. After all, the general public as well as the airlines were eager to see these graceful giants make their long-awaited comeback...
At last, the sky-blue stallion made up his mind; if the Royals wanted the planes back in the air, then who was he to argue? With that, he sat down again and picked up the telephone. “Hullo, operator? Get me Royal Equestrian Airways Head Office, please...”