John Nance - Lockout

“Well, as expected, the head of Israeli intelligence is requesting an urgent conference with our director, and I have the honor of delivering an emergency briefing so our esteemed leader isn’t blindsided. He already knows the basics, but this will be a high-wire act. Send me a runner with anything new you may get in the next ten minutes, and I want everyone coordinating on a multi-pronged assessment of every possible outcome you can envision. Including ones involving nuclear detonations.”

The deputy director moved quickly out of the room, acutely aware of the deathly silence behind him.

Cockpit, Pangia 10 (2300 Zulu)

There was no place Dan knew of for a truly private conversation between crew members except for the crew rest facility, but that was over 150 feet aft. There was also no avoiding the reality that someone had to get Bill Breem under control, and that someone was him.

Asking Breem’s first officer, Tom Wilson, to temporarily replace Dan in the copilot’s seat had been the first step, and Breem hadn’t even noticed. Dan stood and faced the angry captain, all but physically pulling him away from the running verbal gun battle with Jerry Tollefson, who was not about to surrender control.

“Captain Breem, may I have a word with you in private?” Dan asked, his voice deep, calm, and as steady as he could manage.

“Not now!”

“Yes, sir. Now. Right now. Please follow me out of the cockpit.”

“Who the hell are you…” Breem started.

“Legally, sir, I am the second in command of this aircraft, and I’m asking you as a fellow professional to follow me outside to the galley for a private conversation, and this request is on the record.”

“On the record?” Breem snorted. “What are you now, a fucking lawyer?”

Dan pointed at the ceiling. “No, Captain, but you and I are being recorded by the cockpit voice recorder, there’s a tiny microphone right over our heads, and that will not be the case in the forward galley. What I have to discuss with you is probably best left off the record.”

Breem hesitated, uncertainty fighting anger as he glanced upward and gave in with a nod.

“This better be good, son.”

“Jerry? Tom’s got the right seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jerry Tollefson had been on the verge of exploding, but he nodded now without a word, and Dan stepped out of the cockpit and waited for Breem to follow. They moved silently into the forward galley, where Dan asked Carol to step out for a few minutes.

“So what do you want?” Breem asked, his voice reasonably low but his eyes betraying alarm.

“Captain, I have to tell you that I recently attended a training course in Chicago where this very issue of emergency command was discussed. One of the company lawyers came in along with our union counsel, and they confirmed… and I am confirming to you… that the company rule Captain Tollefson was citing to you a minute ago absolutely governs.”

“I’m the senior captain!”

“Yes, sir, you are the senior captain in terms of experience and rank and even seniority number, but you were not the pilot in command, the flight captain, when this emergency began, and therefore the man who was in that position, Captain Tollefson, is the captain of this ship for the duration of the emergency.”

“Screw that. I’m relieving him.”

“Sir, you cannot legally do that unless you are a check captain relieving him for cause, and you are not a check captain, and there is no cause. Therefore, any attempt to pull him out of that seat is legally somewhere between an attempted hijacking and a felonious mutiny, a federal crime in any event, and I, Captain, will be a witness against you, if you attempt it. At the very least you would end up losing your position, and maybe your job, and, possibly, your freedom.”

A lifetime of practice in the art of derision and arrogance had taught Bill Breem how to back down without appearing to give in, and he used his skills now by smiling a snarly smile and glancing away momentarily, as if confronted by fools.

“I am well aware that if Tollefson wants to hold onto command he legally can, and if we survive this, I’m also aware that his refusal to let go will end his career, and you, sonny, can be a witness any way you want.”

“As long as you understand that he is in command. We need your help, not more struggles over who’s in charge.”

“Kid, I was a fucking international captain when you were still wetting the bed! I don’t need a lecture from the likes of you.”

“I certainly hope not, sir, but as of a few moments ago you definitely did.”“Yeah, whatever.”

“Captain, look. I’ve addressed you with courtesy and used your rank each time, and I would appreciate some corresponding recognition that my name is First Officer Dan Horneman, not ‘sonny.’”

Seemingly for the first time, Breem actually looked at Dan, sensing that the wisest course might be to shift gears.

“All right, point taken. Dan, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to be so tough on you, Dan, but this is really aggravating to be rousted out of a deep sleep long after a problem develops on my… on this flight… and then hear about it on a frickin’ PA while I’m walking to the cockpit. Very embarrassing.”

“Understood. But we need your help working this out.”

“Okay, then tell me in as much detail as possible what’s going on.”

Cockpit, Pangia 10 (2310 Zulu)

Bill Breem had been on his own down in the electronics bay for the past five minutes trying to figure out what was happening, while Dan had climbed out to look for a more detailed electrical diagram. But when he returned to the cockpit, a brief exchange with Jerry was all it took to convince Dan that Captain Tollefson was losing it, and the implications were seriously worrying his copilot.

Tom Wilson had also left the cockpit for a few minutes, and Dan seized the opportunity to sit back down in the right seat, looking at Jerry.

“What’s going on?” Dan probed.

Jerry was all but hyperventilating as he held up and shook the latest cell phone he’d tested.

“Nothing, Dan! Not a goddamned thing! We might as well tape notes to rocks and drop them!”

“Jerry… take a deep breath,” Dan said, startled at the beet red color of the captain’s face, and worried that Breem would pop up from the E and E compartment below like an opportunistic meerkat and renew the “who’s in charge” debate.

The captain looked back as if his copilot was yet a new distraction he couldn’t comprehend.

“ Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“You need to know who’s your ally, and that’s me. I’m talking to the captain of this ship. I just chewed on Breem to make sure you stay the captain of this ship! And I’m doing what any good first officer would do, offer my best professional advice.”

Jerry’s eyes had flared as he leaned forward over the center console, his index finger in motion as if pointing a gun at the copilot, his voice almost in a hiss.

“Listen, Danny, when I need someone to wet nurse my attitude, I’ll…”

“You’ll do what?” Dan interrupted with equal force. “You’ll license me to speak if it pleases your highness? Giving you tough advice is what teamwork is all about, Jerry—as you well know. You taught crew resource management, remember?”

“I don’t need to be insulted.”

“I’m not insulting you, Jerry. Jesus, is everyone here so thin skinned? I’m merely suggesting that the situation is momentarily overwhelming you the same as it is me, and we both need to take a deep breath.”