Rick Mofina - Free Fall

“NorthSun One Eighteen. Major Brennan, our TCAS has been activated. We can’t pull out of our position to descend. Is there anything you can do to help us?”

“One Twenty Tactical to NorthSun One Eighteen. Negative, sir. An operation has been launched.”

“What does that mean, Major?”

“I can’t disclose details for reasons of national security, sir.”

“Dammit, Major, you’ve got to be straight with us!”

“The operation will be completed shortly, sir.”

The TCAS advisory continued telling Captain Miller and First Officer Zhang to descend. But it was futile. Frustrated and terrified, Captain Miller came to a decision and made an announcement to the passengers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as you know we’ve been dealing with a situation with national security implications. Efforts to resolve it are ongoing and we’re confident we’ll have you safe on the ground in Seattle as scheduled. However, at this time, I would invite those passengers who are religious to consider prayers. For passengers who are not, you may want to collect your thoughts.”

Shock, confusion and disbelief rolled in waves through the cabin.

It was now eleven minutes to impact with the oncoming flight.

The TCAS advisory had also activated in the New York-bound flight, just as First Officer Shawn Krenski glimpsed activity on his right.

“He’s back, Lloyd! The fighter’s back on my side and under us!”

“Mine’s back, too!” Captain Quinn said. “What the-”

Quinn’s radio crackled.

“One Twenty Tactical to Trans Peak Twenty-two Thirty. Captain Quinn, we’re going to try to give you a little lift to get us all up over that speed bump ahead.”

“Major Garland, that’s noble but it’s impossible.”

“Doing the impossible is in my job description, sir. We have no other options and we’ve got very little time to do this. Please button everyone tight. It’s going to get bumpy.”

Garland and Taft very carefully began moving their jets up closer to the wingtips of the big Ultra Supreme 880.

“What’s going on out there? Can anybody see?” one man shouted from the rows behind Kate.

Throughout the cabin, people began explaining what they saw, while others aimed their phones to record the jet fighters positioning under the wings of the jetliner. Some passengers made the sign of the cross as overhead storage bins began to rattle.

With an eye on instruments and the time, Garland and Taft inched their fighters meticulously into position.

“How’s it looking, Ryan?” Garland asked.

“Doing all I can to break through the air flowing around his wing.”

“I know it’s going to take everything you got to keep it steady. You’ve got to massage it like a baby.”

“Roger, sir.”

“How’s it going?”

“A yard out from contact, sir.” Taft’s voice was vibrating as he watched the gap of blue sky between his wing and the jetliner’s close like a curtain. Then, a sudden scrape and a thud put Taft’s left wing under and touching the Ultra’s wing.

“Got it, sir!”

“Hold your position.”

Garland drew on all his experience and strength to smoothly position his right wing under the jetliner’s left wing.

“Okay, Ryan, we’re set. On my count we’ll lift, slowly and carefully. Too hard and too fast, something could snap. Ready?”

“Roger, sir.”

“Okay, in five, four, three, two, one, lift!”

Using their elevators and throttle, Garland and Taft powered up gradually. Garland watched his altimeter and his heart sank.

“Well, we got five feet. More power, another five percent.”

The fighters roared and the big jet climbed by another forty feet.

“It’s working,” Garland said. “We got forty-five.”

In the Ultra’s cockpit, a resolution advisory had activated, issuing the warning to “Climb now! Climb now!”

Captain Quinn and First Officer Krenski were helpless to do anything as another audio alert activated. “Increase climb now! Increase climb now!”

They were eight minutes from impact.

“Come on! Come on!” Garland said, knowing he and Taft were straining the elevators of their tail sections.

Seven minutes from impact, and they had the jetliner up by sixty feet when his F-16 began shaking.

“Dammit!”

Garland’s ride was getting rough.

“How are you doing, Ryan?”

“It’s getting pretty bad, sir.”

“I know.” Garland swallowed drily. “We’re now at seventy-five and we’ve got just under two minutes until we need to engage. Increase throttle by another ten percent.”

“Ten percent? But, sir!”

“Let’s do it. We’ve got two minutes before we have to abort and engage, so let’s do it. This is it, Ryan!”

Both jets throttled up.

As the fighter pilots continued the lift, something flashed in the distance.

The looming speck in the sky was the Seattle-bound flight.

“One Twenty Tactical. This is Major Garland to Major Brennan. Heads up, we’re giving Flight Twenty-two Thirty a lift up, please descend.”

“One Twenty Tactical, Brennan to Garland. Say again.”

Garland repeated his message.

“Roger, but I don’t believe it, Major! You’re orders are to engage now!” Brennan’s fighter team dropped under the Seattle flight.

Garland ignored Brennan and concentrated on his instruments, which were telling him that they’d raised the jetliner one hundred feet.

“Ryan, we can’t pull out now! We’ve passed the point of no return. We’ve got to do this! Give it another five percent!”

“Roger.”

“Major Garland!” His commander came on the air. “Your orders are to engage! Fire on the aircraft now!”

Garland disregarded his orders.

Their aircraft growled, and all three aircraft shook wildly as the two fighters muscled the big jetliner higher. Thirty seconds to impact and they pushed it higher a few more feet at a time as the seconds ticked down.

“Come on!” Garland gritted his teeth as the big Seattle plane shot at them, growing larger with every second. “Come on!” One hundred ten feet, one hundred seventeen. “Come on!”

Four seconds to impact and Garland’s instruments read one hundred twenty-one feet. His stomach heaved into his mouth as the massive Seattle-bound jetliner and two accompanying fighters streaked under them with a bullet’s velocity.

Oh God! Thank you! Thank you! Garland sighed to himself.

“Break away, Ryan! Break away!”

The two F-16s dropped and pulled clear of the Ultra.

At that moment warnings began sounding in Garland’s cockpit.

The stress the operation had put on his aircraft, especially his right wing, had taken a toll. A chunk was missing. Then another broke off as Garland’s wing began tearing apart in small pieces, then bigger ones, before his wing was gone.

“Eject, Major! Eject!” Captain Taft, whose jet was undamaged, called. “Get out, Tom!”

Suddenly, violently, Garland’s jet rolled, disorienting him as he reached for his ejection seat handles and pulled.

NorthSun Airlines Flight 118 continued, unscathed, on its locked position with its fighter escort.

Shaken, Captain Miller found his composure as he and First Officer Zhang resumed their struggle to regain control of the Startrail AV600.

In the cockpit of Trans Peak Airlines Flight 2230 to New York, a spectrum of alarms was sounding.

The big jetliner had not recovered from the vibrations encountered during the rescue operation, and its situation was rapidly deteriorating.