Rick Mofina - Free Fall

“We need an order now,” the secretary said.

The president knew the numbers. Six hundred sixteen souls were aboard the Seattle-bound jet, while five hundred and nine were on the flight headed to New York.

“Take out the New York-bound flight. More lives will be saved.”

“Affirmative. We’ll issue the order immediately.”

The president ended the call, instructed the chief of staff to cancel the afternoon’s political event in Virginia, then turned and gazed, hollow-eyed, out the French windows at the Rose Garden.

Colorado

Tears stained the pages as Kate wrote her farewell note to Grace and Vanessa.

Amid the anxiety that filled the cabin and her own anguish, she found the strength to convey what was in her heart.

…I’ve been blessed to have you in my life because you are and always will be my world. I love you more than you will ever know…

Kate looked up to see that the woman in the seat next to her was offering her a tissue. The woman smiled weakly, and Kate saw that she’d been looking at family pictures on her phone.

“My name is Willa Neal, from Santa Ana.”

“Thanks for the tissue, Willa. My name’s Kate Page, from New York.”

“You’re about the same age as my daughter,” Willa said. “May I hold your hand, Kate? Please?”

Kate took Willa’s hand in hers and at that moment saw that the jet fighters were pulling back.

“They’re moving away!” a man several rows ahead shouted. “What’s that mean?”

“Maybe whatever’s happening is over?” another passenger said.

Leaning forward and looking back, Kate watched the fighter vanish from view.

Maybe it’s really over. God, please let it be over!

US Air Force Major Tom Garland shut his eyes for a second to block out the pleas from Captain Quinn of the doomed New York-bound jetliner.

“Trans Peak Twenty-two Thirty. Why’re you pulling back, Major?”

Garland didn’t respond. Captain Quinn repeated his query.

“Twenty-two Thirty. Why’re you abandoning our escort? Please acknowledge, Major Garland!”

He couldn’t lie and couldn’t bear to tell the commercial captain the truth.

“For purposes of national security, I cannot reveal my orders, sir.”

“Major, we have five hundred and nine souls aboard. We deserve an answer!”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Major!”

Garland had been assigned command of the engagement operation on Flight 2230. He instructed his partner, Captain Ryan Taft, in the fighter on the jetliner’s right side, to throttle back. The fighters were now a quarter-mile behind the jetliner. The pilots switched to a frequency that allowed them to speak freely.

“Our assignment’s clear, Ryan.”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready to carry it out.”

Each fighter was armed with four heat-seeking air-to-air missiles and a 20 mm cannon. Garland eyed the controls used to fire a missile. Technologically speaking, taking down the jetliner would be as easy as pressing a button.

But morally…

Garland was hit suddenly with a crisis of conscience. He’d gone to work that morning like any other morning. He’d left his suburban Denver home, had kissed Angie, his wife, before she’d gone to her manager’s job at the bank. Tonight they were supposed to be taking Troy, their son, out for burgers for his eleventh birthday. Garland grew furious that some deranged individuals had created a situation that would force him to kill five hundred and nine innocent people.

How will I face Angie and Troy after this?

“Ready to launch, sir,” Taft said.

It was now fourteen minutes to impact.

Is this the only option?

Weld County, Colorado

Sirens from the ambulances rushing Seth and Veyda to the hospital faded in the distance.

At the scene, the two NTSB investigators began examining the laptops.

Chet Meyer had established an open line to NTSB headquarters in Washington while Jill LaRose studied the damaged computers with the aid of the FBI, who’d quickly taken video records of the aftermath. Both devices were blood-splattered, cracked and chipped from the takedown.

But both were still in contact with the satellite connection.

“They’re both functioning,” LaRose said.

“Is there anything you guys can do to undo what they’ve done?” Varner asked.

“Depends,” Meyer said, then, to LaRose, “Jill, can you read what’s running?”

“It’s- I don’t-” She began looking at the open files and online links, struggling to decipher the complexities of the content and codes. “It’s there, but it’s so complex, Chet, I think it’s beyond me.”

Colorado

At fourteen minutes to impact, a serene calm washed over Major Tom Garland as his life blazed before his eyes.

From his dream to be a pilot while growing up in Toledo, to his marriage to Angie, then having Troy; then to enlistment, training and combat missions over Libya and Syria, to his time flying some of the most dangerous maneuvers ever with the aerobatic demonstration team.

It all passed before him in a heartbeat, culminating in a single, crystalline revelation: all that he’d learned, all that he’d done, all that he’d become, had been in preparation for this defining moment.

Garland knew what they had to do.

“Ryan, you know I flew with the Thunderbirds?”

“Yes, sir, but what’s that got to do with-”

“We’ve got one god-awful, long-shot chance to save this plane.”

“Our orders are to engage, sir.”

“I know our orders, but we’re going to get under each of his wings and lift him.”

“Sir, with all due respect, that’s crazy! With the upward flow, the weight, the speed, we just can’t lift him! It’s impossible and it’s too dangerous!”

“Ryan, we have to try. Together we can do it. Look at our data. Both jetliners are at thirty-six thousand two hundred, exactly. Our opposing jet’s tail height is sixty-three feet, and allow twenty feet for us. We’ve got nothing on our wingtip rail launchers. If we can get our guy up one hundred and twenty feet that should clear him and us.”

“That’s a big ‘if,’ sir, and a shave close enough to draw blood. We’d be disobeying orders. We’d face a court-martial if this went bad.”

“That’s the least of our worries. If this goes bad we pull back at the five-minute mark and engage. If it really goes bad, Ryan, we can eject. Look ahead. There are five hundred and nine people who can’t. They’re going to die in about thirteen minutes. We have to do what we can to save them.”

Garland looked at his instruments and timer.

“Are you with me?”

Garland could hear Taft swallow hard.

“Yes, sir.”

The F-16s throttled ahead to Flight 2230.

Cheyenne Wells, Colorado

Seattle-bound NorthSun Airlines Flight 118 was flying over the Cheyenne Wells region when a cockpit advisory activated.

The jetliner’s traffic collision avoidance system issued a “Descend, Descend,” warning, indicating that an aircraft was intruding into NorthSun’s airspace and the crew should be prepared to maneuver.

Captain Miller again attempted to control the plane and descend while First Officer Sam Zhang tried to get a visual on the opposing flight. Miller’s efforts were futile, and the jetliner maintained its hijacked course.

“There’s nothing we can do, damn it! We’re locked at thirty-six two hundred!” Captain Miller dragged his hand across his brow and glanced at the jet fighters escorting him.