by Jake Aaron
“Sounds reasonable,” Sharon nodded. “Before we move anybody, let me check the dead flight attendant to see what he has in his pockets. You know I got some intel out of the guy in the business suit when I searched his pockets.”
The mood on the flight deck was somber. Stan had seen worse. In his career, he had been faced with certain death. He had been in double binds. He had been captured and tortured. He had been left for dead. Anyone else would be asking why me, especially on his last day in the field. Not Stan, he was evaluating his options. Indeed, this was almost an easy day for him.
*****
Fred “Dusty” Hausman came on the flight deck with Jane. Stan shook his hand, “I’m giving you the briefest of briefings. Here goes …” Stan was still standing. If he’d had more flight training, he would have known to occupy the open right seat immediately in case the autopilot kicked off.
“Dusty,” Stan continued, “now that the area is cleaned up a bit. Please assume the captain’s left seat. You might want to put on that oxygen mask for now. That’s what the captain did when he was the only one in the seat. I’ll get you off the mask when I get into the right seat shortly. Meanwhile, let me talk with these lovely ladies …”
“If it’s all the same to you, Stan, I’ll sit in the right seat. That’s what I’m used to in helicopters.” Stan nodded and made a sweeping gesture with his right hand toward the copilot seat, acknowledging Dusty’s request.
Stan looked at Sharon, “It’s your op. I’m just up here now because I once soloed in a Cessna …”
Sharon interrupted, “I’m let down. I thought The Fin could fly anything …”
“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” Stan glared at her and nearly smiled. “So, Jane, what do you think about working up a confident rallying announcement for the captain to give? Good time to reassure the passengers everything is all right.”
“Hey, Stan, I thought this was my op?” Sharon voiced with mock indignation.
Stan shrugged, “That it is. Go, Sharon!”
Sharon smiled and repeated Stan’s words verbatim, “So, Jane, what do you think about working up a confident rallying announcement …” As Stan and Jane started to smile at Sharon’s mocking humor, they caught her as she started to faint. She was cold and clammy. The two eased her into the jump seat. There really wasn’t much room on the floor for her to lie down. Sharon’s color returned slowly from the pallor it had taken on.
While Sharon worked on sitting upright, Stan steadied her with a hand on each shoulder, from one side of her. He spoke, “Jane, how about working up a short script for Dusty to read to the passengers for reassurance that we’re back to normal. Put in the correct aeronautical buzzwords. Have him rehearse it several times, then show him how to work the public address system. As if anyone can hear anything on airline PA systems!”
Jane laughed at his observation of truth.
Stan took his right hand off Jane’s left shoulder and put it on Jane’s left shoulder. He looked at her intensely. With great sincerity, he began, “Jane, you’re the glue that’s holding everything together. You’ve got the experience and savvy to pull us through. I’ve watched you through this crisis, and you have never failed to impress me … and I’m a tough critic. Thank you. If you have any ideas …”
Jane nodded, “Well, if that’s it, I’ll get going on that script. Then, I’ll explain to Dusty’s wife that he wanted to ride the jump seat all the way to landing — a guy thing.”
*****
Mother spoke to Dusty on the HF (high frequency) radio on a discrete frequency from other aircraft’s, “Dusty, so you did not fly anything after your four years as an Army dustoff pilot during the Vietnam War.” It was a restatement, not a question. “In that case, you’re eminently qualified for the task at hand. Your experience with switches, muscle memory, and knowledge of aerodynamics and navigation make you a natural. We have an appropriate flight captain on tap who assures me that the aircraft is fully capable of flying itself from where you are to touchdown. The technology age is wonderful, is it not? Of course, there is absolutely no substitute for having the intelligent human element like yourself, Dusty, to back up the wizardry …
“To keep us proper here, whenever possible, we will remotely test out our instructions to you on a simulator before you execute so as not to skip any steps that might upset the passengers. We have a highly experienced captain on deck next to me, as I’ve said before. He will personally talk you through programming and switch selection. I understand you have two bags of cell phones. Those should give us the capability and reserve capacity for using SATCOM to let us view your switch and module settings, as well as let you view the ones in the simulator without interruption. This information age — I can barely contain myself!
“While we’ve been chatting, the team here has concluded that your destination should be Santa Maria in the Azores. First choice for a number of reasons. Weather makes most of Europe a poor choice; same with the American east coast. The winds at Santa Maria are forecast straight down the runway, landing into a headwind — no difficult crosswind challenges if you decide to land independent of the autopilot. Are you with me, Dusty?”
Dusty answered like a veteran pilot, “What about fire trucks?”
“Not that you’ll need them, mate; but you are fully supported there. Any other questions before I put our airline captain on to get acquainted and go over procedures? … If not, let me introduce Captain Reginald Raines, who has thousands of hours in your type of aircraft.
“Please feel free to call me Reggie,” the captain began. I want to go over a few things before we alter your course for Santa Maria …
*****
Stan listened to the Dusty’s discussion with Mother from the left seat. He multitasked when Reggie came on, with the headset pulled aside from his right ear so he could talk with Sharon.
“Stan, I’m so embarrassed about my fainting. I’m a tough professional. I must have had a virus. I’m good now.”
“Sharon, you might well have a bug. However, keep in mind our civilized emotions can take only so much — regardless of our willpower. When I had been in the field longer than you,” he lied, “I had a physical reaction that left me cold, shaken, and faint. And it all happened after the gruesome action. It is what it is. … I hate that trite expression, don’t you? In fact, trite is trite.” He smiled at her.”
Sharon smiled back. “I have to admit I was a bit unnerved by the loss of all the experienced pilots. The whole ball of wax might have caught up with me. I’m aces now! … I guess I’d better convey the pocket contents of the dead flight attendant to Mother. Different frequencies, call signs, and phone numbers from the first terrorist. My guess: The terrorists figured a different, later wave of attack warranted a different destination.”
*****
Sharon got off the radio with Mother. “Stan, did you hear what he said? We rolled up a terrorist network in western Libya, apparently the first choice to take the plane. I’m sure Mother will run the traps using the second set of frequencies, call signs, and phone numbers. We’ll see what comes of that.”
“So, Sharon, it looks as if you weren’t just on holiday out here. You actually got some work done,” he scoffed.
“Same for you, mate!”
Stan explained, “Not so much, I’m heading back to retire. My last day on the job, today. That’s why I was sleeping so soundly when you most rudely interrupted …”
“The word plays on The Fin just do not stop. Fin also connotes last, as in finish, finis, finito — retired.”
“Okay, Sharon, enough with The Fin routines. Where does a guy go to get a decent cup of coffee?”
Dusty overheard that and shouted, “I was wondering the same!”
No sooner than the pilots’ getting their coffee, Mother came on the radio. “We rolled up another terrorist network in Iceland. Nicely done! … Now, here’s Reggie to further prepare you …
*****
There was finally another br
eather in the flight refresher and aircraft procedures tutorial from Reggie. Five minutes for biologicals. From the left seat, Stan asked Dusty over the intercom, “So you flew Hueys in Vietnam. Medevac?’
“Yep, stirred up a lot of dust —often red dust — whenever we landed. I think that led to the nickname of “dustoff” for the chopper mission, and I know that’s why I’m called Dusty. The name stuck. I think my wife calls me that because I sit around the house and gather dust. … ‘Dusty’ — beats the hell out of being called ‘Huey.’” He grinned large.
“Stan, my fixed-wing flight time is about the same as yours. I have lots of rotary time. Overall, the technology is different today, but a lot of the orientation and what I call ‘geometry of flight’ stay the same. Reggie has a great framework for getting us down safely, backing that up with some basic review that you and I should be able to execute on. … Between you and me, I feel a little shaky.”
“Dusty, I have complete faith in you. I’ve heard about the missions you dustoff pilots flew in ‘nam. You probably never had a routine day. Most of the time you did the heroic; the rest of the time it was miraculous. My dad’s best friend was an Army Ranger you guys saved during a major battle. You guys flew him to a hospital for a major head wound. He has a metal plate in his skull to this day. Yeah, this will be a walk in the park for you — a piece of cake.”
“Right back at you copilot. There have been some allusions to what you do for a living. You must have ice water in your veins …”
“It was a paycheck, Dusty. I am retiring today. Too much fun, you know.”
“So you had every expectation of being out of harm’s way today? … Back in ‘nam, I didn’t let anyone know when I was on my last flight, on my last day. Always felt that would jinx it. In spite of the secrecy, fate had me perform an engine-out autorotation on my last landing. … We called the last flight, the “fini flight.”
Sharon, who was still on intercom listening, “One more reason to call the copilot The Fin!”
“No more of that!” Stan ruled. “Shouldn’t you mind business in the back, Sharon?”
*****
Sharon reported back on the intercom, “It’s calm back here — except for one loudmouth who can’t settle down in the middle of the aircraft. There’s always one! … And the package is doing fine, thanks.”
From the left seat, Stan confided in Dusty, “She’s effectively the bodyguard for a VIP on board. No big thing. … They’re calling us on the radio. Our time-out is over.”
Mother began, “Well, back to it. Reggie reports everything he sees from your cell phone pictures looks nominal — good in English. I’m going to hand the mike over to him, so to speak.”
Reggie began, “Welcome back to flight refresher training. I want to cover descent, level off, landing, roll-out, and braking — as well as go-around procedures if you need to make a missed approach climb out for another go at landing. Stan, you will need to copy down some engine power settings for various phases of flight in case the autopilot disconnects. Since you have a lot of fuel, we can let you descend early to level off and gingerly get a feel for power control in level flight, say 3000 feet above the Atlantic. We’re still planning on a mechanized approach — on autopilot. As Dusty knows, we always like to have a back-up plan. If anything untoward happens to the autopilot, we have human intervention.”
Stan replied, “In that vein, could you give us a simple flight plan over the radio. You know, with the basics of at least time, heading, and Kentucky windage. Dead reckoning beats no reckoning every time!”
Reggie came back, “It’s a pleasure to speak with such professionals. A fellow captain next to me will get that for you, including the time to commence descent. It’s a great idea. Your alternate field will be nearby Lajes Air Base, on another island. Wind forecast there is not as favorable as for Santa Maria, but doable. We’ll get you a heading and time to Lajes from Santa Maria, as well. The headings will include the Tennessee (sic) windage. If there aren’t any more questions, I’ll get on with a review of what we’ve covered and some new information. Step by step you can get anywhere …
Stan exchanged a knowing glance at Dusty over the “Tennessee” windage.
*****
There was another five-minute recess from school. Sharon came on the intercom, “Stan, the unruly guy back here will just not shut up. He’s absolutely barmy, as we say in London. He’s insisting that he come on the flight deck. He has appointed himself the representative of all the passengers. This beastly chap suspects we’re not being entirely forthright with them …”
“Sharon, we’re not, are we?” Stan mused. “I think it’s a bad idea to unnecessarily scare everyone. It’s as Houston Control said in Apollo 13. To paraphrase, if they can’t do anything about the bad news, don’t tell them. … Dusty, what do you think?”
Dusty turned his head left at Stan, “Shoot him!” He smiled.
Stan was not used to this much entertainment. He liked the Army vet, “I’ll take that as a vote to limit scaring the passengers.”
Sharon added, “I talked to Jane. She agrees that we absolutely must limit panic. So, you alpha males up front, how do you want me to kill him?” Sharon enjoyed her macho side.
Stan directed, “Seriously, Sharon, if he continues to rile people up, follow him to the flight deck. Continue to keep the last nylon curtain closed to block any view by the passengers. Let him through the door first. Put a blood choke on him from the rear …
Dusty added, “Before you do that, ask Jane to have the attendants serve a lot of liquor to the area around him. Try to get two doubles in him — ‘while you get permission from the captain to go forward.’ While that’s going on, see if you can get something like tranquilizers or sleeping pills to complete a Mickey for this guy back there, or after Sharon’s takedown — if necessary.”
Stan nodded, “Dusty, you’re a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. Proud to know you! The captain has spoken.”
*****
Dusty and Stan were intensely listening to Reggie’s tutorial when Sharon came on intercom, “Hey, Stan and Dusty, sorry to interrupt. We’re coming forward now. Big Mouth’s a moose, six-foot-four and 230 pounds. Two doubles have slowed him a little. The second drink had a ‘Jane-special’ of diazepam and sleeping pills. I’ll stop him along the way several times to let the medicine act. There are so many scenic views from up here, you know!”
Stan acknowledged. Dusty advised Mother and Reggie that school would be interrupted temporarily.
Stan saw the cockpit door open. Big Mouth nearly fell over from shock at four bodies on the floor, “What the …’
Sharon jumped Big Mouth from the rear. She wrapped her petite body around the giant man. Her legs clamped partially about him for stability. Both of her hands quickly slapped both sides of his face to stun him, as planned. Then, she used her hands to cut off the flow of blood in Big Mouth’s jugular veins, shutting off any oxygen supply to the brain. She rode the bucking bull as he twisted and turned. He was down in seconds. Sharon bound and gaged him. In spite of restored blood flow to the brain, the ‘Jane-special’ kept him unconscious.
Stan assessed the situation. “Let’s have everyone fasten in for expected turbulence. If anyone asks about Big Mouth in the back, the flight attendants will explain he strapped in up front. Emphasize that the reported turbulence is severe. And it won’t be too long before we can start a slow, gradual descent, which also warrants strapping in everyone. Good with you, Dusty?”
Dusty grinned, “I’d still like to shoot him!”
Stan shook his head. He motioned to Sharon to get within earshot. He pulled off his right headphone, “Hey, Sharon, nice work! You know that’s an illegal hold you administered back there, don’t you?” It was agent humor.
“Portuguese rules, my friend, it’s legal out here. I looked it up in mission prep. I have a leg to stand on.”
“Speaking of legs, Sharon, I was little envious of Big Mouth when you wrapped your legs around him. Of course,
I think I could live without the chokehold.”
Sharon punched Stan’s left shoulder. “You need to work on your pick-up line, mate!”
*****
The aircraft had smoothly descended to 3000 feet above the glass-smooth, blue ocean — a rare site in the Atlantic. The aircraft was leveled off, on autopilot. Dusty manually experimented with power settings to maintain different speeds between 250 and 200 knots. “You know, Stan. I think I’m getting a good feel for the throttles …”
Stan said with true admiration, “Dusty, you haven’t lost your touch. Only a pilot in the back would sense that you’re experimenting with throttle positions. Nicely done!”
At that moment, the aircraft came off autopilot on its own. It started a descent. “Okay, Stan. I’m flying this baby by hand. Small inputs on the yoke and throttles, as Reggie said. Trimming, as Reggie said. Saying what I do as I do it — an old habit from being an instructor in ‘nam. … Stan, tell Reggie what’s going on.”
“Dusty, no contact on HF radio. … No picture on the cell phone of the simulator settings. I’ll try to get Reggie on a cell phone through the SATCOM on another number.”
The realization that he might be landing manually struck Dusty like a slap in the face. He squirmed at the thought of landing a turbojet for the first time by hand. The fact that it had 333 passengers, at an unfamiliar airport, also weighted on his mind. Next to him, Stan was task-saturated trying different methods of communication. Stan exhausted all the back-up ideas in his notes from Reggie. While it had been only a minute and a half since the loss of the autopilot, both Dusty and Stan felt that tens of minutes had elapsed.
