John Nance - Lockout

“Like someone just unplugged our cockpit controls and plugged in an alternate set of controls.”

“Exactly.”

“And we’re just along for the ride. Okay, I’m with you.”

“Well…” Frank continued, “…my theory is that if we interrupt the power that’s letting those relays disconnect your cockpit, they’ll shift to the off position and let go of the various controls.”

“Great!”

Frank Erlichman was shaking his head energetically. “But wait, please. I have to warn you that if we’re wrong… if we shut down the wrong one… even turning it back on might not cause it to latch again. Without a wiring diagram—”

“I understand, Frank. But we have to try. So we just selectively and physically pull the relays out of their respective sockets and see what happens?”

“No, no, no! If we pull a relay, it will depower that relay, yes, but it will also break whatever circuits are flowing through it when the relay is not powered on.”

“Oh, Lord, of course. When the thing is off, the normal power to, for instance, the sidestick controllers, flow through that very relay.”

“Yes. We need to depower each relay without pulling it out of the socket.”

“So how do we do that? We can’t get to the back of this cabinet where all those wires come in.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t see a way without finding the power leads and cutting them.”

Dan leaned against the starboard electrical rack for few seconds, letting his mind race over the options. He was missing something, and it was pissing him off.

All available resources…

The phrase echoed through his conscious mind like a rebuke, and he raised an index finger in a wait gesture.

“Stay here. Don’t pull anything. I’ll be right back.”

Scrambling up and down the small ladder through the narrow hatchway to the cockpit was getting easier, or he was becoming less aware of the bruises. Carol saw him climbing out and was just regaining her feet when he emerged, taking her by the shoulders to move her aside gently on the way to the right side of the cockpit.

“Josh…?”

The boy’s head snapped around toward him as he flashed a wait gesture to Jerry who was looking puzzled. Bill Breem was looking at him as well, but saying nothing.

“Okay. Help me figure this out, if you can. Both of you.” Dan described the cube-shaped electrical relays and the inability to reach the power leads behind them. Breem began asking questions, and he and Dan were firing ideas back and forth too intently to notice Josh Begich trying to snag their attention. Frustrated, the boy reached up and grabbed Dan’s left forearm.

“You guys are missing it.”

“Missing what?” Breem asked, not unkindly.

“If a relay is powered on one side and the other side is holding open the circuit you want to close, pulling that relay out of its socket for a few seconds or even minutes will do no harm. You can pull the relay, pop the cover off, cut the power leads, then put it back in and the little switch inside will no longer be powered, the little plunger rod inside will be spring-loaded back, and the circuit it was designed to interrupt will no longer be interrupted, it will be restored.”

Dan looked at Bill Breem who was nodding.

“He is absolutely right.”

Dan turned back to Josh. “Okay, but what if we get the wrong one and want to repower it? If we’ve cut the power leads inside…”

“Well, the relays I’m used to working with have little prongs on the back going into the socket. Just bend the power prongs aside, and if you need to repower it, bend them back and plug it back in.”

“Josh, you just earned your keep! Thank you. That’s what I was missing.”

Dan whirled around to return to the electronics bay as Jerry caught his arm.

“I’ve slowed us down considerably, Dan, and I think we’ve got at least two hours before we’re over Tel Aviv now. At least it looks like we’re still bore sighted.”

“Got it. Pray hard, buddy. I’m going to start pulling things.”

Within five minutes Dan had put on the insulating coat and gloves he’d used before and with Frank briefed and standing beside him with a pair of needle nosed pliers, he reached in gingerly and grasped the first cube, pulling it smoothly from its socket.

A sudden uncoordinated bank to the left almost propelled Dan’s face into the metal frame of the open cabinet, but he managed to pull his head back just enough to avoid the inevitable bolt of electricity that would have accompanied the slightest touch. Frank had braced himself against a non-electrified rack, but his eyes were wide now as Dan looked at the relay cube in his hand and tried to decide what to do. He could hear Carol’s voice from the hatch relaying Jerry’s cry of alarm that they were in a steep bank, and he could feel the big aircraft in a severe sideslip, the rudder commanding a right turn as the wings tilted to the left, the frightening sound of the slipstream hitting the side of the A330 in a way it was not designed to be flown.

Still thrown to the left, Dan turned to reinsert the cube as they hit some sort of turbulence just enough to knock the relay from his hand. He heard it clatter and skitter to the bottom of the cabinet and knew there was too little time to chase it down. He could hear Jerry’s voice clearly through the hatch yelling to restore whatever he’d changed.

The relays all appeared to be identical, and he made a split second decision and grabbed for one off to the right side of the row of cubes, pulling it out and shoving it in place of the first one he’d removed.

And suddenly the severe sideslip stopped, the Airbus returning to coordinated flight, whether in a bank still or not, he couldn’t tell.

“What’s happening?” he yelled at Carol, whose terrified face could be seen through the hatch.

“Jerry says we’re still turning left, but we’re not slipping,” she shouted.

Dan got to his knees and shone the small flashlight at the bottom of the cabinet, being careful not to touch his face to the frame. He spotted the loose relay and gave chase, sticking his arm perilously into a maze of equipment and finally closing his hand around the precious little cube, then scrambling to his feet to plug it back in place of the substitute he’d removed.

“He says the turn is continuing,” Carol yelled. Dan pushed past Frank, motioning for him to stay in place, and climbed the ladder far enough to hear Jerry directly.

“What’s happening, Jerry?”

“Man, don’t do whatever that was again, please! I thought we were going to go inverted!”

“Are we wings level now?’

“No. We’ve turned around almost 270 degrees and are still turning left. Wait… from the horizon it looks like the bank is lessening and the whiskey compass says we’re coming back to the original course.”

“We just did a 360?” Dan asked.

“Apparently. Did you put everything back?”

“Yes. For the moment.”

“I don’t know, Dan. I don’t want to experience that ride again.”

“I need to keep experimenting, Jerry.”

“Well, whatever just happened, this thing has been commanded to return to the original course.”

Dan scrambled out of the hatch and stood at Jerry’s side to eliminate the need for yelling back and forth.

“You think that’s what’s happening? Someone’s actively controlling us?” Dan asked.

“It’s possible. It was weird. The slip stopped, the wings leveled, and then it started turning again to get back to course. Are there any antenna leads down there that might be feeding it commands from a satellite? Can we disconnect them if there are?”

“I hadn’t looked, but there might be.”

Once more, Dan descended the ladder back to the electronics bay, where Frank Erlichman was waiting with a pleading look betraying any attempt to project calm.