Golf Echo Bravo

by part time pony

Chapter 6 | Double the Trouble Part I

262 Hours after the disappearance of Golf Echo Bravo

USS Dwight D. Eisenhower
[CVN-69]

North Atlantic Ocean

The winds and waves of the North Atlantic Ocean on the Tuesday morning were ruthless. Constant pounding and cold winds made the outer parts of the carrier inhospitable even for the most experienced sailors.

The USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, a Nimitz-class Aircraft Carrier originally came to the Norwegian Sea accompanied by several destroyers and frigates for a joint naval exercise with the Nordic nations and some NATO members. However, when word of the disappearance of Golf Echo Bravo reached the U.S Navy the ship along with the USS Benfold, USS Barry, USS Anzio and one accompanying supply ship were dispatched to the coast of Iceland. There were also some other ships dispatched from the US which would carry specialized equipment with them along with more escorts.

Apart from the Icelandic Coast Guard, the US Navy and the Royal Navy were the only other navies participating in the search and investigation. There was also Denmark's own Royal Navy which was helping by lending it's non-military vessels to the ICG as well as two patrol vessels. The British had dispatched a small fleet, comprised of two destroyers and several non-combat ships. An agreement had been made between all 3 countries to use the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower as a mobile headquarters for the operation.

Even though the weather was unforgiving, duties still had to be carried out. Sailors in different coloured uniforms walked out onto the deck awaiting the arrival of a C-2 Greyhound, which was mostly carrying mail and spare parts but also Admiral Jakub Wilson from the British Navy and Commander Elsa Jonsdottir from the Icelandic Coast Guard.

On the bridge of the carrier stood Admiral Omar Hopkins, commander of the task force and assigned joint command of the NATO exercise that was now postponed. Holding his binoculars with both hands he awaited the arrival of the Greyhound. The time was 4:45 PM in local time. Frustrated, he turned towards one of the Petty Officers on the bridge.

"Where is that darned Greyhound? It was supposed to be here two hours ago!" He raised his voice dramatically, as sailors noticed his tough expression on his face.

The Petty Officer looked at the Admiral, facing him and taking a breath before answering.
"The pilots are having difficulty to land with the high winds. They're gonna do one last try to land and if not they'll go to the Faroe Islands to refuel." The Petty Officer answered, sounding as calm as possible.

"Alright. Thank you." Omar replied.

He looked out once again, the wipers on the windows were working overtime in clearing the accumulated water. His facial expression calmed down. Hopkins was a veteran to the navy, originally joining back in 1973 as an Ensign. He rose quickly through the ranks and by 2010 became a two-star Rear Admiral, though as part of the exercise and subsequent search he had been given the temporary rank of Vice-Admiral. He was approaching retirement soon and was hoping to have one last big adventure before it. The disappearance of Golf Echo Bravo would be just that.
As he wandered off into his thoughts, a voice was raised in the bridge by a sailor.

"Greyhound coming in, Admiral." The sailor said before returning outside. Hopkins shifted his attention to the short runway. Normally an aircraft would require a much longer runway but thanks to a rope and hook system, a plane could land with just that small amount of space.

Hopkins watched as the grey C-2 Greyhound came in slowly, fighting the gusts of wind and before finally making contact with the deck and the hook successfully grabbing onto the rope. The aircraft came to a stop shortly after. It was then guided to a parking spot where the passengers on board got out. The aircraft was then taxied by a tug to an elevator and brought down to the hangars underneath, its wings folded to make more room.

Omar Hopkins, wearing his khaki coloured service uniform put his hat on and made his way out of the bridge to greet the guests. Navigating through the narrow hallways of the carrier. Sailors that were in the way moved to the side and saluted. Those who were too busy to salute simply nodded at the Admiral who was now putting on a thick coat to go along. Eventually, he could hear a door at the end of the hallway open. The sounds of the wind and rain were heard on top of light chatter. Omar Hopkins walked slightly faster and identified said chatter as a Polish-British accent.

Not long after he saw a man and a woman dressed in the respective uniforms of their navies or coast guard in Iceland's case enter the interiors of the carrier from the harsh weather outside.
"Jakub!" Omar said to get the attention of the English admiral.

Jakub Wilson turned around and saw Omar Hopkins.
"Omar, how nice to see you. Wish the weather was better but we made it onboard your ship."

They both shook hands. Omar greeted and welcomed the Icelandic Commander as well.

"I must say, Omar, I envy your navy and especially your task forces. Only takes 7 days from Norfolk to the coast of Syria if I'm not mistaken." Jakub said while brushing off some raindrops on his jacket.

"Thank you, Jacob, but let's save the chatter for later. We have more pressing matters so if you'll follow me."

Omar walked to the meeting room onboard the carrier, located not far from the bridge itself. Jakub and Elsa followed as the three made their way through the narrow hallways, climbing up the set of stairs on the way. Eventually making it to the room, Omar opened the door and allowed the guests first. He then entered followed by two sailors who would assist him in the briefing.

The meeting room, also known as the briefing room was mostly simple. The interior was grey, with chairs aligned facing two whiteboards. The chairs were metallic with the exception of the seating area itself, being made of a more comfortable material. The walls were covered with decorations mostly, pictures of former Admirals but also historic moments in the US Navy, one of these was a large framed picture of the USS Yorktown with its deck full of Corsair fighter planes and various other planes, the picture dated to 1943, in the middle of the Pacific Theater of World War Two.

"So," Omar said. Taking a pause and placing himself in front of a board in the briefing room. Both Jakub and Elsa had taken seats by now as well as some others such as Lieutenant Commander Connor Davis, who happened to be a pilot of a single-seater F/A-18C Hornet. His plane had been retrofitted with instruments to take measurements as well as to collect other types of data that would then be sent to the investigators on the Westmann Islands.

"As you're all aware already I imagine, if not, read the damn news once in a while. A plane belonging to the Airbus company disappeared about a week ago to unknown reasons. Now I honestly don't give a hell about it, but our governments have decided that our navies will help out in the search." Omar said, before taking yet another short pause.

"My carrier, the Ike will act as a mobile headquarters for the ICG and Royal Navy as well as the US Navy during this time. I've already organised for a squadron of retrofitted F-18s to take flight and collect whatever we need. Any questions?" He finished, taking a deep but quiet breath.

The briefing room was quiet. Just like Omar had hoped. No questions. That was until Connor raised his voice.
"One question, Admiral." He said, raising his arm up slightly.

Omar looked at the Lieutenant Commander before giving him the go-ahead.
"Right so. I'm just curious when you want the Hornets to start flying. Only mine's ready to launch but the weat-" Connor was cut off by Omar Hopkins.

"I don't give a damn about the weather if your plane is ready for taking off then get it up on deck right now."
He said in response.

Connor responded with an acknowledgement to the order, and with that, the meeting was over. The enlisted, NCOs and low-ranking officers left the meeting room while Omar, Elsa and Jakub remained to talk about some smaller details. With new orders, the Lieutenant Commander went towards the locker room to grab his flight uniform and gear. By now, the order had already reached the hangar crew who were already bringing out the plane onto the deck. The order to bring the carrier into the wind was also given.

After changing he made his way up to the flight deck where individuals in yellow coloured shirts, as well as some in blue and white had just finished bringing up the F/A-18C, part of the 12th Carrier Air Wing and the 40th Strike Fighter Squadron. However, there was to be no strike mission today. Connor walked along the deck, his right arm being wrap around his dark green helmet. Approaching the jet he noticed an officer wearing a brown coloured deck uniform, he immediately recognized the officer as Captain Elliot Casey, also belonging to the 40th.

"Good luck on the flight Lieutenant, I feel like you'll need it in this weather," Elliot said in a rather informal manner, offering to shake the hand of Connor, who by now had put on his helmet.

Connor, accepted the handshake, grabbing onto the hand of the senior officer and shaking it. "Thank you, Captain, but we have to fly regardless of what the lord above has in store for us."

Elliot chuckled, letting go off the Lieutenant's hand and tapped his shoulder, giving him a slight push in doing so towards the jet. "Well, Lieutenant, I'll be awaiting your return if that's the case."

Connor smiled, saluting his superior officer before climbing a ladder into the cockpit and entering, a blue-uniformed sailor then taking away the ladder and stowing it away elsewhere. A yellow-uniformed sailor now stood in front of the jet, his left arm raised up and pointing to the left, while his right arm was pointed straight up and motioning a circle. Connor started the engine.

The same sailor then pointed both arms upwards and motioned for the plane to move forward, later motioning for it to turn right and towards the catapult. Connor followed the instructions of the sailor that was marshalling. Upon reaching the catapult at the front of the carrier a different yellow-uniformed sailor attached the front gear to the catapult itself, a blast shield was raised behind the aircraft. Rain poured onto the deck, as Connor now closed his canopy.

A green-shirted sailor sat by a set of controls that controlled the catapult, awaiting confirmation for launch final checks were made as Connor saluted the personnel on deck, the air marshaller from earlier now made a set of moves, crouching down towards the end and pointing out towards the sea. Not long after the plane rocked violently, as the catapult system was activated. The F/A-18C was pulled forward rapidly, reaching take-off speed within seconds. Once he had detached, he pulled away slowly, his thrusters now at max speed.

---

Ponyville, Equestria

Antoine and Timothy were both in the Golden Oak Library, discussing a recent concern that Timothy discovered on the plane. Twilight and Spike were also there, with the mare listening and the dragon assistant giving tea to everyone.
"So. You mean to tell me parts of the plane have just vanished?" Antoine asked.

"No, well, yes. I mean. I doubt those parts came off after we came to Equestria, I think they must've fallen off during the teleportation thing or whatever." Timothy responded.

Twilight, who had mostly been listening to the conversation suddenly heard something that piqued her interest. Using her magic she put her cup of tea down on the table and entered the conversation.
"Speaking of teleportation, I never got around to asking how you two came to Equestria. Can you explain what happened in the moments leading up this?"

The two male pilots looked at the purple mare. Truth be told, they both didn't have a single clue what caused the teleportation. All they know was that they saw a portal after having cleared volcanic ash.

"Well uh.." Timothy began, but couldn't find the words to continue.

Antoine, noticing his friend having difficulties trying to explain decided to help out.
"Well. Just when we were about to start our approach into Keflavik Airport, we went through some volcanic ash. Planes and volcanic ash don't go together by the way. At first, everything seemed okay, well, except for our engines failing. But then we saw electric sparks and eventually, that turned into a purple-ish looking portal that brought us here."

Twilight was now seen with a book and quill in her hoofs. Writing down as fast as she could the details and her thoughts for later usage in some researching. She wrote intensively fast, and all three of them noticed that. Spike, holding a tray of tea refill walked over and attempted to calm the mare down with an offer of more tea, which she accepted and immediately drank the whole mug.

"I suppose she's always like this when she gains new knowledge?" Timothy asked the baby dragon.

"You get sort of used to it..." Spike replied, indicating that this was a common thing for Twilight to do.

The two humans looked at the purple mare, not knowing how to really react. Antoine turned to Spike while Timothy refilled his cup with green tea and adding a little milk. The Frenchman then turned to Twilight, attempting to make eye contact, but failing. Seeing that night had fallen by now he decided to return to the topic of missing plane parts. But first, he had to know something.

"Spike, how cold does it usually get around here at night." He asked politely.

"Oh, uhm. Depends on the amount of wind. But usually, it's still warm." The baby dragon responded with while refilling Twilight's cup of tea.

Antoine smirked slightly and looked towards Timothy.
"Say, Tim, how about a night stroll to the plane and do a thorough examination," Antoine asked, already in the process of standing up.

"Oh uh. Yeah, yeah sure." He finished his tea quickly and stood up just as fast.

Twilight was still writing, by now she had finished writing about the teleportation and started writing multiple hypotheses in her book, erasing those she deemed invalid. All she heard was her heart beating and her brain spewing out words and numbers. To her, it was always the numbers on paper and magic. She was after all the element of magic. At first, she hadn't even noticed the two humans had stood up and begun putting their jackets back on, but she was suddenly awoken back to real life by her humble assistant Spike, who poked her in the shoulder.

"Yes? What is it, Spike?" She asked.

"Antoine and Timothy are leavi-" Spike was cut off, and the mare quickly rushed over to the two.

"Wait!" She shouted. "Before you two go, me and my friends are going for lunch tomorrow at Applejack, you two maybe want to tag along?" She proposed, smiling and looking up at them.

"That sounds wonderful, course we'll be there!" Timothy replied rapidly, even before Antoine had time to react, though he naturally would've also agreed.

The mare and the dragon wished farewell to the two human pilots as they left the library. Strolling down the empty and not that well-lit streets of Ponyville they engaged in small talk on the way to the aircraft. Timothy would always make comparisons between Equestria and Earth. On the other hand, the way Antoine talked about the nature in Equestria made it almost seem as if he wished to retire in this land to live out his last days. Though while a possibility, they both still had hopes of possibly returning one day to Earth.

---

North Altantic Ocean

The weather of the North Atlantic had by now calmed down, as Lieutenant Commander Connor Davis soared through the skies at a comfortable 260 km/h to collect measurements that would hopefully be of use for the investigation. Cruising at the low altitude of only 1000m above sea level he was constantly checking his altitude. Connor wished to make sure there wouldn't be a sudden movement from which he would be unable to recover from.

At the same time, he was also beginning to run out of fuel, as the jet had already burnt through most the fuel. Though luckily for Connor, the last pieces of data needed to be recorded were finished, and he could now begin his return to the Eisenhower.

Switching on the radio and the mic attached to his helmet he called himself in and awaited the bridge on the Eisenhower to respond.

"Understood, Viper 3-2, advise you change course heading to 240, the deck is being cleared as we speak." The Bridge responded with direct orders.

"Roger that, Mighty Ike, 3-2 returning." Connor acknowledged, tuning his speed and tilting the control stick accordingly.

The route back to the carrier would have him go through some heavy fog which also happened to be the remnants of the storm that passed in the morning. Increasing his speed to 280 km/h he began flying right through. He could almost immediately feel the pounding on his plane as it shook a little. It was all manageable for the experienced pilot.

The plane shook violently once, surprising Connor. While attempting to stabilise and return to a more comfortable altitude a white bright flash temporarily blinded him. A loud boom was heard not long after.

He flipped his visor up, and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds, then opening them again. Looking around he found himself confused, he wasn't seeing the ocean, but instead, land. Large forests, small towns, mountain ranges and the whole shebang.

"What the hell." He muttered to himself, looking back at the cockpit he became even more confused seeing his radar was blank. It definitely wasn't Iceland he thought to himself.

"Viper 3-2, Ike, how copy?" He spoke through the integrated mic.

He waited, and waited more, but there was no response. Trying again he repeated his last message, but it was only followed by static.

Frustrated, he banged his hands on the metallic parts of the cockpit several times, calming down after a short while upon hearing the engines suddenly shut down slowly. He attempted to turn them back on, but it was to no avail, the fuel counter read '0L'. He looked at the speedometer, seeing it read 1200 km/h which was at the sound barrier stage. He had somehow gained more speed. He didn't know why and how, as the fuel that remained earlier wasn't even close to make it to that amount.

But now was not a time for figuring things out, he would eventually run out of speed and he would need a plan before that happened. Looking out at the horizon he couldn't find anything suitable for landing his modified fighter. The only things he could find remotely suitable were some farm fields, however, the small wheels of the F/A-18 were only good for solid concrete or asphalt runways, not uneven and rough fields. He shifted his attention at the infrastructure around but saw nothing suitable. His speed had now dropped to 800 km/h.

Attempting one last-ditch effort to locate a landing field, he switched his mic on and changed his frequency to a global emergency one.
"Viper 3-2, declaring a Mayday situation. Out of fuel, radar unable to detect any airfield, calling out for immediate assistance." He turned off the integrated mic, awaiting a response. But again, none came, he tried once more before an alert of low speed started sounding in the cockpit.

He checked the compass, seeing he was heading west, he decided to look at this surroundings. Looking to the south he saw mostly flatlands, which if he had been trying to prioritise the safety of his aircraft over himself would make a great spot for an attempted landing. Then to the north, he could see snow-tipped mountains, which if he had known about earlier would have also made a good spot, though with the little speed remained he doubted he'd be even able to make it halfway to them. There'd have been most likely a large enough snowbed for him to crashland his aircraft onto though.

Continuing to cruise forward he could see a tall mountain, which also happened to be the start of a mountain range. On the mountain laid a large city, resting on a small flat patch of grass, with some parts of the city hanging off the edge. He could also spot some obvious landmarks, such as what seemed to be a castle and a town square.
Connor saw no better option, an ejection from his aircraft over the city seemed like the best choice considering his options. Having only ejected once prior during his training to become a pilot he naturally felt anxious, this would be the first time, and hopefully the last time he'd have to do it for real in the field. The jet continued forwards at an uncomfortable 300 km/h, though he was now just about at the start of the mountain range.

The alarm of low speed rang again, this time louder. Looking at the cockpit he paid one last good look around, to check if everything was in place before performing the ejection. Wishing his aircraft a last goodbye. The speed dropped down to 200km/h, approaching the stall range.

He located the ejection lever, pulling it violently. The canopy ejected first, flying away from the aircraft. Not long after the small rocket boosters attached to his seat ignited, shooting Connor Davis up and away from his jet. The boosters turned off, and the parachute deployed successfully. He, however, felt a sharp pain in his shoulders due to the ejection. Moaning from the pain he flipped his visor up and partially disconnected the oxygen mask attached to his helmet. Taking several deep breaths he watched his aircraft plummet down onto the ground near the mountain, crashing in what appeared to be a grass field.

Slowing down his descent, he made sure to perform the PLF manoeuvre. Landing on his feet then and then onto his back. The ground was soft, getting back up on his feet he could tell he landed in a large garden, a beautiful one in fact as if it belonged to that of a rich person. He pulled his parachute back towards him and stowed it back in the parachute bag nicely.

The garden had a view on the surrounding lands, walking up to the railing the Lieutenant Commander looked out. It still looked nothing like Earth, and part of him believed he was dreaming. The wind was cold, but luckily his g-suit provided enough warmth to not freeze, though he knew he couldn't be outside all night long.

"Sometimes I wonder on whose side God is." Connor sighed as he spoke to himself. To him, it was unbelievable that all this had just happened, everything was going fine, he was simply returning to his home at sea after a regular scouting operation, yet instead, he now found himself in unknown territory, the only thing that seemed to comfort him now was the beautiful horizon in front of him.

Still looking out at the horizon, he was suddenly startled when a voice rang out across the garden. The voice was assertive as if it came from a guard. "Halt, stay where you are!"

Connor turned around rapidly. Seeing the guard wearing golden armour, but seeing it be a horse and not a human confused him even further. He was convinced he was inside of a dream or something.
"A talking horse?" He muttered.

The guard pony approached closer, he was now joined by a second. The first one, who had yelled the order was a white-coated pony with a blue mane, while the second had an orange coat and blue mane. Connor, being outnumbered unholstered his service weapon, a 9mm P228, or as the navy would call it, an M11.

"HEY, HEY! We're all friends here, back up, American here, this uh, a NATO country right?" Connor said, in desperation to make the ponies understand him, everything was going too fast, one minute ago he was still not believing the fact he had landed here and now he was suddenly being asked to comply with the orders of ponies in fancy golden armour.

The two guards looked at each other confused, trying to make sense of what the human just said, they understood the friends part alright. But to them, the human was trespassing on royal property, and in such case, there was no being friends.
"Comply with our orders, we're only detaining you." The orange pony said.

By now, Connor was loosely aiming his service weapon, knowing it was the only defence he had against the two ponies, or horses as he'd call them still. The round was already chambered, and the safety was off. He waved it around trying to scare them off, but he was unsuccessful, it seemed as if the ponies had no knowledge of what a gun was, or the dangers of one. He looked towards at the white pony, though at that moment, the other guard jumped onto Connor, seeing a brief window to perform a takedown.

Connor, heard the sounds of the orange pony, and quickly turned to face him, there was no time to properly aim, but he neither wanted to use lethal force. His reflexes would, however, do the last thing he ever thought he'd do with a handheld gun, and that was to fire it at someone. He fired loosely, the round exiting through the barrel and onto its target.

The shot rang through the city, the sound was heard loudly, and attention nearby was gathered.
Silence followed, through the castle and across the entire city, but the silence was to be broken.

Author's Note:

Gave the old chapters some new and better names, as always if you found this fanfiction to be below your expectations/disliked it please inform me either in comments or private messages, helps me improve as an author. There's no such thing as bad feedback.

If you're also curious about the fanfiction in general then don't be afraid to ask me either in comments or private messages.