The White House Situation Room was packed. Men and women wearing uniforms from nearly every branch of the armed forces and expensive suits jostled against each other in the confined space as they each performed their designated functions. Memos from the Department of Defense, information packets stamped with every level of classification the United States employed, and reports from a half dozen intelligence agencies flowed in to be delivered into the hands of the nation's highest decision makers. The river of knowledge was matched only by the tide of requests for more information.

All activity came to an abrupt halt when the doors opened and President Jordan Moore entered the room. Following him was a detail of Secret Service Agents who spread out and positioned themselves around the room. The various aides and advisors without proper clearance left the room and the doors were closed.

Among the few who remained in the room were the National Security Advisor, the Secretaries of Defense and State, and a handful of assorted DoD specialists. On the large teleconference screens opposite the table were the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Director of National Intelligence, and Vice President Collins. The room quickly quieted as Defense Secretary Strawm gave those present a brief synopsis of the latest crisis.

“Units from Fort Carson and Berkley Air Force Base have the crash site locked down. We were lucky that the plane broke up over mostly uninhabited land. A few isolated mountain cabins and a couple gas stations were the only occupied buildings inside a ten mile radius and have since been cleared,” Strawm reported.

“How many people were on that flight?” President Moore asked. Strawm flipped through a small stack of papers before pulling one out.

“We have two conflicting reports of either 321 or 312 passengers and crew. We’re working on verifying the passenger manifest with the FAA and LAX.” Moore grimaced.

“Alright, George. Now I know that’s not the worst news you have, because you usually don’t bring DARPA staff with you. Why did you call an emergency briefing?” The pair of scientists perked at their mention.

Secretary Strawm motioned to the two men. “These are Doctors Abaselo and Hendricks. They’re two of the lead researchers on Project VALLEY. Dr. Hendricks was the man who developed the sensors that allowed us to detect the UPF around the Panama Device and on Margin Harvest.” UPF, or Unidentified Physical Force, was the designation for the unknown force the aliens had been observed manipulating. It was usually given away by a telltale glow around the horns of MH-S-B and MH-S-D, but lower levels had also been detected from both MH-S-A and MH-S-C.

“Dr. Abaselo is the lead physicist working to discern what exactly UPF actually is. I felt that it would be prudent to have them here during the briefing as I have reason to believe the cause of Flight 141’s destruction was related to Margin Harvest.” President Moore sat up in alarm, as did several others in the room.

“How is that possible? In eight months we never observed anything even remotely capable of something like this, or am I wrong?” General Miles, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, asked. Strawm shook his head.

“I believe Doctor Hendricks could explain it better than I. Doctor?” Hesitantly, and acutely aware of all the eyes on him, Doctor Hendricks timidly straightened his tie.

“Uh, t-thank you Mr. Secretary.” Dr. Hendricks cleared his throat nervously before continuing. “We have evidence that immediately prior to Flight 141’s destruction, a massive pulse of UPF energy was released in the vicinity of the aircraft.” Doctor Hendricks fumbled through a manila file before pulling out a series of papers which were passed around the table.

“Those are sensor readings from Dulce that coincide with Flight 141’s distress call. At 2:41 p.m. sensors on our side detected a spike in UPF energy, and at 2:42 Flight 141 first indicated they were suffering instrumentation and equipment issues. The UPF levels continued to rise for two minutes and thirty-one seconds until there was an enormous surge, followed by levels dropping off abruptly. Flight 141’s disappearance from radar screens coincides with the surge exactly.”

“How are you sure the energy came from Margin Harvest?” Secretary of State Rink asked. Dr. Hendricks looked at her with humble confidence.

“Because we have detected UPF literally nowhere else in the universe. Even now, after we’ve set up an advanced satellite sensor system to comb the universe, we have no UPF readings save for on the other planet and around the Panama Device during operation. Not even low-energy background levels. One of our primary research goals right now is to understand UPF, which fits into our understanding of physics somewhere between electromagnetism and the strong nuclear force.” The room was quiet as the information was digested.

“Could this be a weapon? Possibly in response to the incident with our observation team?” Director Clemens asked. Doctor Abaselo shook his head.

“We were unable to determine whether or not the discharge on our side was intentional. However, considering the fact that we still do not fully understand the method that the Panama Device uses to transport matter, we cannot rule it out. This could also mean that the species on Margin Harvest have a greater understanding of its workings that we do. They could potentially even be its creators. Seeing as how the Device on either side produced no detectable UPF during the incident, we have to look for an alternative source. Combined with the fact that the aliens themselves are the only other natural emitters we have discovered to date it would seem likely, though that is entirely circumstantial.”

Hendricks agreed glumly as he pulled a second set of readings from the folder. “We did, however, find a disturbing correlation. At approximately the same time as our sensors at Dulce picked up the rising UPF levels, the remote detectors we left behind registered an almost identical buildup and discharge. It took us several hours to receive the readings because of the hard drive courier system, but once we did the timestamps matched almost exactly. The disturbance on Margin Harvest came from somewhere near the area indicated here.” Another set of pictures was passed around the table. The images were copies of topographical maps of the charted areas of Margin Harvest. A red circle surrounded a tight concentration of lines with a population indicator and the designation 'S-L-1.’

The news hung heavy in the air. The most likely scenario was, following the accidental deaths of their soldiers, the aliens had retaliated with a weapon that the human race couldn’t even understand much less defend against.

“How powerful was the energy discharge on Flight 141?” the Air Force Chief of Staff asked.

“It was roughly equivalent to eight hundred tons of TNT,” replied Secretary Strawm. That was one of the facts that had stuck out to him during his own DARPA briefing. The explosion was comparable to a very low-yield tactical nuclear warhead.

Doctor Abaselo cleared his throat. “We believe it also may have been targeting Dulce Station itself.”

Every head in the room was immediately on the physicist. He continued, “I was attempting to find out why the UPF had focused on Flight 141, and when I checked the FAA radar readings from the time of the crash I discovered something. Flight 141 was the closest aircraft to Dulce Station at the time of the buildup.” As a top secret research base, Dulce was surrounded by a large no-fly zone that forced civilian air traffic to fly around the station.

“UPF shares some characteristics of electricity such as metal conductivity, and I believe 141 may have acted as a sort of lightning rod. The energy continued to build up in and around the aircraft until it…discharged.” Abaselo swallowed self-consciously. “The advance team sent to the site has already confirmed extremely low levels of UPF, as well as burn patterns on the debris which would support this theory.”

“So this could have been worse,” Strawm replied. Enormous national resources were invested in Dulce; tens of millions of dollars in equipment, the best researchers in DARPA’s expansive arsenal, as well as more than a hundred Tier One Operators from the Army, Navy, and Air Force. That didn't include the population centers just to the south. Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Flagstaff, and dozens of small towns combined meant there were nearly three quarters of a million people inside of a 100 mile radius.

“George, I want whatever did this destroyed,” President Moore announced sternly. “I am giving you full authorization to use whatever means you deem necessary to protect the security of this nation and this planet.” President Moore made sure to make eye contact with every man and woman in the room.

“Yes, Mr. President. I’ll have an Action Plan ready and on your desk inside of forty-eight hours,” Strawm replied. Moore nodded in satisfaction.

Secretary Rink raised her hand in objection. “Mr. President, the Doctors have said that they can’t definitively confirm it was an attack. What if this was an accident? I believe we should at the very least explore the idea of diplomatic options.” President Moore looked at her grimly.

“Claire, I’m afraid we don’t have that option. Unless I’m mistaken, our linguists are still years away from being able to decipher the aliens’ language, or am I wrong?” he asked as he looked to Strawm for affirmation. Strawm confirmed that there had been little progress and added that the most optimistic projections placed a full understanding of the language at three years.

“We can’t wait that long. This could happen again at any time and we have absolutely no way to stop it except attacking the source. Next time it might not be an airliner. It could be a power plant, or a missile silo. Hell, it could be an entire city. I’m not willing to risk that.” Secretary Rink didn’t appear satisfied, but offered no further argument.

“Now, what is going to be the official version of events?” Moore asked. On the top left teleconference screen, Director Clemens interlocked his fingers and leaned forward.

“We’re going with a flaw in the left wing fuel tank. The FAA and TSA are going to ground all Southern Airline 767s for inspection. At that point we’ll have agents plant what’ll appear to be manufacturing defects in a few of them, the faults will be found and corrected, and the Airline should be back to full operation inside of a year.”

Several officials looked away guiltily. It wasn’t pretty what had to be done, but it was necessary to maintain the veil of secrecy. A few more minor details were left to be hammered out, but the heavy decision making had been made.

The steady beat of a heart monitor comforted Princess Celestia as she stood vigil over her student. The doctors of the Castle Infirmary had confirmed that there would be no lasting damage, but Celestia had yet to overcome the moment of stark terror that she had experienced when she saw Twilight’s unmoving body on the ground. The beeps gave her solace in the constant confirmation of her student’s survival.

Celestia didn't respond when the door to Twilight’s room opened to reveal her sister. Luna lightly kicked the door closed behind her and sat down beside the larger alicorn.

“The Doctor informed me of her condition. Severe magical depletion and third degree horn stresses,” Luna said as she placed a wing over her sister comfortingly. “She’ll be back to normal in a month or two.” When Celestia continued to stare blankly at her student, Luna forced her sister’s gaze upon her.

“Tia. She will be fine.” The Midnight Sister put as much weight behind the last word as she could. Light purple eyes blinked rapidly and finally came into focus. In an instant, Celestia’s mask shattered and she hugged her sister tightly. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and dampened Luna’s coat, who paid it no mind. Instead she gently rubbed her sister’s back and enveloped her as best she could.

It took nearly an hour for Celestia to regain her composure. As she dried the last of her tears, she muttered a quiet thanks to her sister. Luna smiled gently and nuzzled her cheek.

Before either sister could speak, a commotion outside the door drew their attention. A deep commanding voice conflicted with the guards posted at the door. A sharp bark was followed by a moment of silence before the door opened.

Shining Armor stepped through the doorway after glaring harshly at the Solar and Night Guards posted beside the door. Princess Cadence was a half-step behind him. As soon as he looked away from the soldiers and towards his little sister, all the anger drained from him and was replaced with worry.

The former Captain rushed to Twilight’s bedside, nearly knocking aside the Princesses in the process. “Oh, Twily, what did you do?” he asked quietly. He gently stroked his hoof along her cheek to where the bandages on her forehead and around her horn ended. Cadence walked up beside him with a concerned expression.

“What happened to her?” she asked. Luna looked to her sister for an explanation as well. She had been told that there had been an accident and that Twilight Sparkle was injured, but little else. Aside from the Doctor she had spoken to before entering the room nopony had any further information to offer.

“She was trying to find where those things that killed our Guards had gone to,” Celestia said quietly. “It was my hope that if we could find where they had fled to, we could avoid further bloodshed by meeting peacefully and perhaps open up a dialogue. I asked Twilight to look into the matter and…” Celestia trailed off as tears threatened to overtake her again. Luna pressed against her to offer support.

The alabaster Princess shook her head and continued. “She devised a way to track their magical signatures, but something went terribly wrong. She lost control of the spell and it began to feed off of her.” Shining Armor looked at Celestia in alarm. A unicorn losing control of a spell was a serious thing, but to have the spell begin to draw on the unicorn’s magic against their will was almost always fatal. Usually the unfortunate mage would be left a bare husk of a corpse, assuming anything remained at all.

Shining Armor’s eyes glazed over momentarily before he turned and hugged his sister tightly. The assortment of wires and tubes around her complicated the gesture, but he managed. Cadence rubbed his back gently with her hoof as the stallion struggled not to cry. Despite his best efforts, wet spots appeared on the white hospital bed sheets.

“Has the Doctor spoken to you yet?” Luna asked Cadence. The Crystal Princess gave a shallow nod without taking her sad eyes off of Twilight. Satisfied that the former Captain was not under the impression his sister was dying, she stood and nudged Celestia. “Come, Sister. Let us give them their moment together.”

Celestia hesitated before standing on somewhat shaky hooves. As she allowed herself to be led out, the Solar Princess shot a last guilty glance over her shoulder at the siblings.

The two sisters walked through the castle in silence, the larger leaning heavily on the smaller. Guards and servants parted wordlessly at the somber expressions on their rulers’ faces. In minutes the Alicorns found themselves in front of large double oak doors imprinted with Celestia’s Cutie Mark. The pair of Solar Guards posted there at all hours of the day and night saluted and pushed the doors open. Luna bobbed her head in acknowledgement at the two as she passed.

Once the doors were closed behind them, Celestia nearly collapsed against her sister. Luna grunted and adjusted her footing, but did not waiver. Gingerly, she led her sister to the bed and deposited her on the soft down mattress.

“I’m not tired, Luna,” Celestia protested in a childlike manner. Luna giggled lightly as she tucked her older sibling in.

“Perhaps not, but sleep shall do you well. Rest, dear sister, and allow sleep to soothe your heart and mind. I shall oversee thine duties this evening, concern yourself only with those matters that lie beyond the realm of the wakeful.” Celestia grumbled a half hearted protest, but in mere moments the gentle caress of sleep claimed her. Twilight’s near-death had not been kind to the immortal, and the emotional strain of repressing her emotions only to have Luna release them explosively had only served to further exhaust her.

After making sure her sister would not be disturbed, Luna left her sister’s chambers with two of her personal Guards in tow. When the small band was around the corner from Celestia’s chambers, Luna turned to the stallion to her right.

“Titus, send word to the Royal Guard Detachments in the cities and towns along the edge of the Everfree that they are to stand at high alert until told otherwise.” The Chiroquine saluted and quickly departed to relay the orders. Luna turned to face the guard on her left.

“Avitus, have Captain Silver Lance dispatch Detachments to the settlements along the edge of the Forest that lack them. Be sure that all those being dispatched are informed of what type of threat they face.” With a flick of her wing, Luna dismissed her second guard who left in the same manner as his companion.

With a stern face, Luna continued her way through the Palace. Under her breath, she muttered darkly, “I will not have our Guards caught flat-hoofed again.”