Golf Echo Bravo

by part time pony

Chapter 9 | Echoes of the Past

358 hours after the disappearance of Golf Echo Bravo

Outskirts of the Crystal Empire

The Friendship Express moved at slow speeds, combatting the harsh winds outside. The train, which wasn't built at all with speed in mind, nevermind anything to counter air resistance was pushing on hard. While the outside was inhospitable with below-freezing temperatures, the inside was the complete opposite, warm and comfortable.

The train was only a couple of minutes away from its final destination, as the Main 6 were made aware by the conductor "Next stop, Crystal Empire!"

The ride had been relatively smooth for the group of mares, who had spent their time onboard mostly talking. Twilight had naturally briefed her friends on what her mentor, Princess Celestia told her in the throne room. Though while the mission was at hand, some ponies couldn't help themselves but still talk about humans, as if the topic always made the headlines in the papers.

"Ah don't trust that new guy, he attacked two guards ya' know." Applejack stated her point.

"Oh darling, calm down, he simply misunderstood what they were trying to do." Rarity replied almost immediately, defining the relatively young naval aviator.

"I get that Rare, but he nearly killed a guard!" The orange-coated mare snapped immediately back at Rarity.

"He was stressed out, he wasn't himself that night. I happen to know that you can make poor decisions when stressed, not that I speak from experience, of course, though perhaps you do, darling?" Applejack was visibly annoyed and angry by this point. Though she calmed herself down, realising what Rarity said made sense.

She sighed, looking out the window she could barely see the tall structure that was the Crystal Empire's very own castle. Closing her eyes she breathed in and exhaled. "Ah' guess you're correct Rarety."

"Girls, the most important is the fact that he recognized what he did was wrong, besides, the guard is fine, they're friends now as a matter of fact," Twilight spoke in a calming voice, she herself had overseen the man's recovery and knew a lot about him to make a proper conclusion on the situation that happened that night.

"I still can't believe it happened." Fluttershy voiced her opinion on the whole situation, truth be told most ponies in the train cart also had trouble believing it had happened.

The last minutes of the train ride to the frozen north was calm and quiet, though just when the train pulled in did the chatter resume. The train stopped, and the doors opened as all mares stepped out, Rarity being seen with a scarf while Spike struggled to carry a bag full of them. Twilight Sparkle still felt uneasy, naturally, she'd have preferred a written exam or an oral one, however, that was not the case today, and it wouldn't be for a very long time.

---

Ponyville, Equestria

The sun came down, and in its place, the moon rose. The night was still young, the stars were shining bright and the breeze was relatively chilly though the temperature all around still warm. The town was relatively quiet, as Antoine sat on the porch of the house he shared along with Timothy and now Connor. In front of him laid a small table. He was wearing the same clothing from yesterday, not having even bothered changing.

In his hands was an already lit cigarette. The cigarette burned slowly, as nearly invisible smoke was seen rising into the air. The night was peaceful, and the Frenchman enjoyed just how quiet the night was. Since arriving in Equestria two weeks ago he had barely had any time for himself. Now, however, was his time of peace and tranquillity. The only thing that seemed to disturb him was the crickets that could be heard, however, that just like surroundings near him became obsolete as he kept on smoking.

The cigarette had burnt through completely, as Antoine properly discarded it in a makeshift ashtray. Just as he went to light a second one, the door to the house opened slowly. Antoine naturally expected Timothy but was surprised to hear the American accent of Connor.

"Hey, Antoine."

The Frenchman lit the cigarette and smoked a little.
"Yes?"

"You've probably already talked this through with your pal Timmy, though, I'm curious. Do you two even miss Earth, I mean, you two seemed way too over the moon yesterday." Connor voiced his concern, as he sat down on a different chair on the other side of the porch.

"I don't know." Antoine paused. "At this point, I honestly know nothing." He grinned, looking at the pack of cigarette which he had opened earlier.

"I was supposed to quit smoking, my Doctor back in France told me if I continued I'd get cancer, and I did as he told, for nearly a year I abstained from the devil's rolled tobacco." He paused, nearly laughing at the whole ridiculousness of the situation.

"I guess..." He paused, taking a whiff of the cigarette. "I guess I couldn't help my self. All this, equestrian magic and disappearance." Small tears were seen rolling down his cheeks now, though barely visible.

Connor approached his chair to Antoine and looked him straight in the eyes. "Look, Antoine. I know I haven't even been here for a week yet. But look, right now you're submitting yourself to further tragedy if you keep this up. To hell with those thoughts, they don't belong with you."

He now stood up and grabbed a hold of the pack of cigarettes, throwing them into a waste bin. Antoine just sat there, quiet. He dropped the cigarette in his hand and Connor quickly stepped on it to prevent a small fire. "I have to tell you something." Antoine suddenly said.

---

65508 hours before the disappearance of Golf Echo Bravo

Libyan Airspace

"Lighting 1-1 to squadron, radio silence with Charles De Gaulle is now in effect," Antoine spoke through the integrated microphone on his helmet.

The Squadron of Super Étendard planes, produced by Dassault for the French Navy and Air Force were now entering the Libyan air space. They were part of the NATO strike group operating under UN Resolution 1973 to intervene in the Libyan civil war. Today was a routine strike operation, get in, eliminate the target and get out.

Antoine had done this type of operation hundreds of times before, thought today would be his first time leading one. Flying under the callsign of Lightning 1-1, the squadron consisted of 3 other planes of the same type. The ageing Dassault plane had already commenced its retirement process, and the young French pilot was impatiently waiting for the replacements.

The squadron had taken off from the French carrier Charles De Gaulle only 45 minutes prior. Their target today was a military convoy consisting of armoured vehicles mostly heading to reinforce the city of Sabha. Their mission was simple, eliminate the convoy or at least render it useless.

"Lighting 1-3, 1-1, I've got the convoy on the radar." The pilot of another Étendard spoke.

"Lighting 1-1, 1-3, understood." He paused. "All planes, arm your weapons, we're going in hot shortly."

Cruising rapidly at 800 km/h, the convoy was now in their sights, as Antoine gave the order for the squadron to attack. Though at that moment, an alarm rang in his cockpit. Short but loud beeps were heard, as the words 'LOCK' were seen in his interface. Not long after, the beeps changed into one loud alarm. He immediately began with evasive manoeuvres.

A surface to air missile had been launched, and it was approaching rapidly. His flares were fired in an attempt for the missile to lose its target on his plane. A short sound was heard in the cockpit, the flares had successfully deployed and the missile lost its track of his plane.

"Lighting 1-1 to squadron, how copy?"

Static followed. Antoine repeated himself, but static followed once again. He double-checked his frequency, though found nothing wrong there. He then checked his radar but saw only himself on it, no other planes. He looked around to his surrounding, and he recognized the Libyan desert. Not only that, but he saw the convoy as well, and there wasn't single damage that had been inflicted to it. He began slightly sweating now as his mind was trying to understand what happened.

"Lighting 1-1 is anyone here?!"

More silence followed, Antoine was dumbstruck as to what had happened, though his worries calmed down slightly, as a sudden and somewhat familiar sound was heard. It sounded just like the flare deployment sound, followed by the end of the missile lock alarm.

"Lightning 1-4, 1-1, I read you." The voice spoke unusually calmly.
Antoine quickly identified the voice as that of Augustin, one of the pilots in his squadron.

"Oh thank god you're here Augustin. Where are the others?" Antoine wasted no time trying to figure out what happened, they still had a mission to complete, but first, he would need to reorganise the squadron.

"Antoine, I'm sorry to say but, Ibrahim and Pierre have bit the dust," Augustin informed his squadron leader in a slow, neutral-pitched voice.

Antoine blinked twice rapidly, his hand hovering on the mic switch, however, he didn't speak. His hand now twitched rapidly as it moved back to the throttle control, slowly, he increased speed. Thoughts ran through his head rapidly. The images of Ibrahim and Pierre showed up repeatedly in his head, just before the mission, the two were smiling and excited, now, unfortunately, there was no more. The last words from Ibrahim echoed through his head, Lighting 1-3, 1-1, I've got the convoy on the radar.

"Lighting 1-4, 1-1, Antoine, are you alright?"

Antoine looked simply at the interface now, his speed was increasing, and so was his attitude. He wasn't even thinking anymore, his mind was dull as dishwater. So much so that he hadn't even heard Augustin speaking to him. He was quickly awoken however by the over speed alarm, instinctively he lowered the throttle.

"Augustin, I'm aborting the mission, return to the Charles De Gaulle, I'll contact them shortly," Antoine spoke rapidly, with a saddened tone sounding clear in his voice to Augustin who complied with the order, the two planes resumed formation back to the French aircraft carrier.

---

"I'm sorry to hear that," Connor spoke slowly, patting the Frenchman's back.

"The navy told me afterwards that it wasn't my fault, I couldn't have known they had SAM launchers. I was responsible for the two, and I failed, I just couldn't take it." Antoine slammed his fist onto the table.

He stood up just afterwards and looked up to the moon, he blinked rapidly and struggled to get the words to leave his mouth. "Every night I think of the two, I-i-i" He abruptly stopped towards the end, not capable of finishing the sentence.

"Ease up, sit down." Connor motioned and made sure Antoine sat down gently.

"I've dealt with loss as well, we all do it, it's what we signed up for, I too, have lost some good friends over the year, but it doesn't help to constantly grieve the losses, we have to move on eventually. Some take longer, yes, that's true, but holding onto those thoughts will only result in even more denial. You speak about having been on the road to recovery from nicotine yet here you were smoking just earlier to ease up the pain. It doesn't work like that." Connor took a deep breath, Antoine was listening to the American.

"Look," He paused, grabbing a chair and placing it in front of Antoine, then sitting down. "Antoine, I've only been here for so short, yet, I've already learnt something from this world that I will carry with me for the rest of my life, regardless if we return to earth or not. You wanna know what that is?" Antoine nodded his head slowly.

"That Twilight mare, you know, she's not just a talented unicorn or a know-it-all person, rather, she's become an expert in one field in particular, and that is friendship. You probably haven't had the chance to talk with her in-depth, but trust me, I can tell you're missing it. Up to this point, you've only been relying on your pal Timothy to get you through this mess, but that doesn't work like that under these circumstances. He understands it as well, I've seen him be more interactive with the ponies than you, and yeah, granted, as I said, I've only been here one or two days, but to me, it's clear as crystal."

"Our brains are complex, too much or too little of everything will make it go upside down, but I already feel at ease, simply over the fact that I know there are good people in this world I can rely on, human and pony. I trust you will be able to see that too soon." He finished, once again taking a slow but deep breath with his eyes closed.

Antoine sat quiet, his arms were crossed as he sat in a relaxed pose. His head was pointed upwards, then slowly he lowered it towards Connor, facing him.
"I guess I never really thought about it... I did try, I spoke to Applejack a few times, and and, Twilight to-" He stopped himself once more, once more he found himself deep in thought.

"Ah for godsakes, you're right. I've been too damn shy since coming here, I-yeah, I've been too reliant on Tim, I admit it." He raised his voice dramatically, though still made the effort to not be too loud. "I've been avoiding talking too much. I didn't want to get too attached to this world since I was hoping to still return, but looking at that possibility now, god knows if my family thinks I'm dead or alive."

Connor nodded, smirking slightly. "How'd that feel?"

"Taking all that off my chest, honestly, never felt better," Antoine responded, and so he smiled, standing up he shook Connor's hand and tapped his shoulder once. The two re-entered the small house and by now, the young night was no longer as bright. The two went to sleep in peace, both confident for the future regardless of the uncertainty that would follow.

---

Westmann Islands, Iceland

A lot of people in the world, including experts in air crash investigations deem this case to be a repeat of Malaysian Airlines Flight 370, and a waste of resources to investigate it, therefore, especially when the international cooperation at the moment is nearly greater than that of MH370, do you feel that those critics bear with them the truth in their criticising comments? A reporter from FOX News asked the investigation panel at the conference calmly and neutrally while others from their respective networks including most major sources, though also more minor ones calmly awaited their turn.

"In my experience with investigating aeroplanes, whether it be from human error or mechanical, I have learnt that there is no such thing as the same case twice. Each case is different, and GBE to MH370 is no exception to this. There are interesting details that have emerged, though I can not disclose what that is at the moment." Álfur's voice echoed through the conference room, as Álfur himself now grabbed the TV remote and lowered the volume of his television which was showing a replay of the conference.

The investigative veteran found himself in his summer home on the islands, having just returned from the capital he was eager to resume work tomorrow on the case. Suddenly, however, his phone vibrated before the familiar tune of an incoming call was heard. He picked up the phone and saw it was Laufar calling him. He swiped up.

"Hey there, Álfur!" His supervisor greeted him with an energetic voice.

"Hello, Laufar." Álfur greeted back, with less energy.

"I just finished speaking to uh, someone of uh, high-ranking, there's been something interesting that has happened not too long ago." Laufar went straight to the point, just like Álfur liked it.

"Who's this 'someone' you speak of?" He asked.

"Oh uh, hold on let me..." The sound of pages being turned rapidly were heard on the other end, as Álfur waited patiently he once again took the TV remote and this time completely muted the television. "Ah here we go. Uh, Vice Admiral Omar Hopkins, from the American navy"

Álfur waited once more for Laufar to continue, as did he checked the time on his watch, it was 9 PM.
"Right then. One of their planes went missing a few days ago, they haven't found it. It-um disappeared not far from your estimated location."

The Icelander shook his head rapidly. "You mean to tell me there's been another plane missing for a few days and I am now only being told?" His voice was almost raging.

"Relax, relax, I'm only telling you this now because you know how military things work, classified that and classified this, redact this and that, I only got the censored version of their incident report an hour ago, hell I haven't even finished reading through it." More sound of pages being turned could be heard.

"Well, alright then. Send me over what you can, I'll process it tomorrow." Álfur submitted to cooler thoughts as his temporary anger vanished.

"There'll be no investigation on that incident, Álfur, I'm simply calling you to inform so you're well, informed. The American Navy will be investigating this incident themselves, it's up to them if they wish to share anything. I'll do my best to still give you all the information I can however at the moment the best I can do is the report itself, expect it in your emails tomorrow."
Álfur sighed, at least the work burden would be lighter, not that it mattered much right now anyway. Everybody was working nearly overtime. Björn especially, who, being the rookie naturally wished to put on a good impression on his first case. The rest of the phone call was mostly about how the investigation was going and towards the end, Álfur wished his friend back in Reykjavik well as the man on the other side of the phone did the same.

The phonecall had lasted for forty-five minutes, and at the end, the Icelander was too tired to even get out of his formal black suit and tie, he kicked his shoes off as he picked up the TV remote again and switched the volume back on, the press conference was still playing as now a journalist from a smaller network began questioning.
"Mr Sigurðsson, switching topics from the connections between GBE and MH370, there have been rumours that the aircraft never crashed, but rather vanished from Earth. What are your thoughts on those theories?"

"Once again, in my experience, it is quite common for people to start trying to figure things out themselves when there is a lack of information, some do it for pure amusement while others do with a mission to spread misinformation. Regardless of their motives, I can say that I and my investigation team are prepared to turn over every rock, but a line has to be drawn between fact and fiction." Álfur was seen taking a short break by drinking from a water bottle before resuming.

"As I said earlier, interesting things that are unexplainable at the moment have shown up, though that is only natural, everything has an explanation behind it, and we intend to find the reason why this plane went down, or as you referred, vanish."

The journalist nodded, and Álfur took one more sip of water as the lead investigator from the United Kingdom checked his watch. "Right, I'm sorry to say ladies and gentlemen however that is all the time we could allocate to this conference, there'll be another one next month where we will share additional details. Thank you and have a pleasant continuous day." He wished them well, as now the three lead investigators stood up from their chairs and left the conference room.

Álfur grabbed his remote once more, turning off the television. The screen now being pitch-black as he laid himself down upon the couch.

The investigation had surprisingly actually been a lot more successful so far than Álfur had imagined. Small bits of wreckage that belonged to GBE had been found, though the question from the journalist at the end continued echoing through his mind. ...there have been rumours that the aircraft never crashed, but rather vanished from Earth.

Throughout the entire day since the conference there was no shaking it away from his head, it bothered him while leaving Reykjavik, on the ride to the airport, on the charter plane and while walking back to his summer home. The truth was he had given thought about it before the conference. Several things in the investigation didn't still make any sense to him. If wreckage had been found so early on then why wasn't the entire plane found or any trace of the recorders? And if indeed the aircraft had vanished from Earth, then what are pieces from the hull doing in the Atlantic ocean?

Álfur was bothered with these thoughts as he slept through the night. Úlrik had yet to still send an update of sorts informing of his findings. While he doubted there'd be any he still couldn't shake the feeling maybe there was something. Was an other-worldly creature involved? Aliens and UFOs? Or was it just the work of God himself?

"I sometimes wonder on whose side God is." He muttered to himself before falling asleep.

Author's Note:

As always, if you have a question then feel free to ask with your preferred way, comment field down below or private messages. Same can be said for suggestions/critiscism.

Next chapter will probably not be out until some time next month due to multiple reasons.