John Nance - Lockout

“Jerry?”

“This is NOT happening! All the computers are off, and I still can’t get a response from the sidestick. Try yours.”

Dan grabbed the right-side control stick, commanding a steep right bank as Jerry let go.

Again the utter lack of change was akin to a physical impact.

He tried again, moving the stick carefully through left, right, up, and down commands, but the aircraft remained rock steady, refusing to follow the commands.

“Jerry, what’s going on here? How can we not have direct control?”

“I don’t know, man! Do you remember anything in the book about a situation like this?”

“No!”

“Nor do I. But she won’t let go. There’s no electricity going to any part of the flight computers.”

A deep sense of foreboding had been percolating away in Dan’s stomach for the past two minutes, and now he felt just outright nauseous. He looked at his right hand, which was deflecting the right sidestick controller ordering what should have been a precipitous turn to the right in an aircraft devoid of any power to the autoflight computers that might oppose him.

And yet the flight path had not changed.

“Nothing, Jerry! It’s like we’re along for the ride,” he said quietly.

The captain was sitting there, Dan noticed, in utter disbelief, the F-15 now maneuvering back to his original position to their left, his wingman somewhere behind.

“Any ideas, Dan?”

“Everything’s on an interlock with the autoflight system. Mess with anything, it’ll disconnect. Right?”

“I always thought so,” Jerry replied, the strain audibly affecting his voice.

“Okay… let’s try this.” Dan Horneman positioned his left hand on the throttles and clicked the disconnect button for the autothrottles, yanking the levers back to the idle position. The complete lack of response from the aircraft felt like a physical blow.

“Jeez… nothing!”

“Try the speedbrakes,” Jerry prompted.

“Whoa! Not at this speed!”

“Just a little… to see if it works!” Jerry snapped, pulling the lever slightly out of the detent himself, but feeling no response. He pulled harder, but there was no change in the aerodynamics of the aircraft. “Maybe drop the landing gear?”

“If we try and it works, Jerry, at this speed it’ll blow the gear doors off.”

“Right. Then we won’t.”

“Dan, you said you know the systems… there’s got to be something we’re controlling that doesn’t depend on electrons.”

Even in the midst of the growing crisis, Jerry’s acknowledgement that his copilot’s knowledge might have some value was a startling concession.

“I’m all ears, man, if you can think of anything,” Jerry continued.

“Well…”

“How about the nosewheel steering? That’s hydraulic.”

Dan was chuckling the laugh of a condemned man, “Yeah, that’ll work at 33,000 feet!”

Jerry looked slightly embarrassed, “Yeah. Got it.”

“Sorry, man. It’s just that I never really thought of it before, you know?”

“Thought of what?”

“That there’s nothing on this flight deck that’s physically connected to anything usable in flight! This bird is nothing but a freaking video game!”

“There’s… nothing ?”

“Okay, the rudder is connected by cable to the hydraulics, and the pitch trim is also partially manual as long as we have hydraulic pressure, and the alternate gear extension system uses a cable, but that’s it. Everything else involves electrons. Flight controls, throttles, speed brakes, landing gear, trim system… everything’s electric. We might as well be sitting in a capsule on the ground controlling this machine by satellite telemetry, like the drones—or unmanned aircraft systems—that the air force uses.”

“But, Dan, no one in their right mind would design a system that could lock out its pilots if there’s no counterpart on the ground, right?”

“Well, sure as hell no one else is flying this beast. And all the flight instruments have been lying to us. They’re still lying to us! Look at that moving map! It’s saying we’re over the Atlantic heading west, and instead we’re barreling southeast toward Paris!”

The interphone call chime rang, and Dan punched it up on his panel to find Carol on the other end with a simple but disturbing question.

“What?” Jerry asked.

“Carol wants to know if she should wake up Breem and company?”

“Shit.”

“Is that your final answer?” Dan chuckled.

“No, dammit! That’s all I need is his royal ass up here firing off orders.”

“Jerry…”

“I know, I know. All available resources, and we’ve got a bona fide disaster going on.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to point out the company regulation regarding relief crews and emergencies.”

“Tell me.”

“Whoever is in charge when an emergency occurs remains in charge. The only exception is if a check captain decides to remove a relief captain for cause.”

“And Breem’s no longer a check captain.”

“Right. It’s your ship.”

“Tell her to wait fifteen minutes, then wake them. Maybe the bastard will have some ideas. Who’s his copilot?”

“Wilson. I forget his first name.”

“Okay. Do it.”

Dan passed the order to Carol and rang off.

“We’ve got to get control of this thing,” Jerry said, suddenly pulling himself up in the seat and taking a deep breath. “Okay, look… let’s go back over everything and see if there’s something we’ve missed that could regain control. What if we reversed everything you tried a few minutes ago? I mean, there’s got to be a logical explanation for this, if we can keep from panicking.”

“Panicking?” Dan asked with a rueful chuckle he couldn’t stifle.

“Yeah.”

“Too late, brother. I’m already there.”

CIA, Langley, Virginia (5:45 p.m. EST / 2245 Zulu)

At the top of the intelligence food chain, patience is seldom a virtue, Walter Randolph thought, as he punched in his aide’s secure phone number.

“You promised updates, Jason.”

“I was just getting ready to call, sir. I’ve been on the line with our air force command post at Lakenheath in the UK. Their two F-15s had to break off. The Pangia flight wouldn’t, or couldn’t, follow them back to London.”

“Explain, please.”

“The lead pilot said the pilot of the A330 was gesturing and acting like he was going to follow their orders, but the aircraft never altered course. He said there were others in the cockpit when he first flew alongside, but they beat a hasty exit. Logically, if the pilot won’t follow the F-15s, even though he’s signaling that he intends to, that might indicate that he can’t follow.”

“In other words, intimidation. Did the rest of the aircraft look normal? Did the fighter report on that?

“Yes, sir. There are lights throughout the cabin, and faces visible in most of the cabin windows.”

“Where are they?”

“Southeast bound over the English Channel headed for France. The French are already scrambling fighters to intercept.”

Cockpit, Pangia 10 (2245 Zulu)

“Jerry, I’ve got a GPS lock.”

“On your iPad?”

“Yes. My personal one.”

“I thought you needed an Internet signal?”

“I remembered an aviation program I downloaded that has a stored map… wait… okay, we’re about…”

“What? What are you showing?”

“Jeez! This can’t be right!”

Dan peered at the small screen again, blinking and refocusing to make sure he was interpreting the map correctly.