John Nance - Lockout

“Okay, we’re down to 12,500, and twenty-four miles from the runway,” Jerry reported. “We’ll probably have the gear, depending on how much damage there was to the right side, but we’ll have no flaps and no reverse, of course, and only raw brakes.”

“We need to run the checklist.”

“Yeah. That’s right.” Jerry reached forward to trigger the appropriate page on the ECAM, but the number of failure items and pages scrolling across the screen was beyond overwhelming.

Tom Wilson re-entered the cockpit and slipped back into the jump seat behind Dan.

“Too much here!” Jerry was saying. “I’ll have to do it from memory. We’ll add thirty knots for no flaps. We’ll be faster than hell, Dan.”

“I know it.”

“The runway is more than two miles long and with a desert to overrun into, but we can’t get too slow on final or too high.”

“I know how to slip a bird, Jerry.”

“We may have to, but we’re going to run out of hydraulic pressure when we get too slow. We’ve got one windmilling engine and the RAT providing the hydraulic pressure.”

“Got it.”

“Of course the brakes have an accumulator.”

“Rog.”

“We’re coming through 10,000 now, Dan. Speed is 220 knots, eighteen miles. I can see the runway ahead.”

“Can we get an ILS up for the glide slope?”

“I… no. Not needed, Dan. We’ll be a light year above the glide slope anyway.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that.”

“Keep her at 220.”

“Jerry, shouldn’t we allow for aerodynamic damage out there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stall speeds could have increased. We’re essentially test pilots right now.”

The captain hesitated, grimacing as he took it in. “You could be right. We were really shaking.”

“Still are. Maybe we should test the touchdown speed while we’ve got excess altitude,” Dan said.

“You’re joking?”

“No… really, I’m not. If we’re going to touchdown at 220, we need to make sure that’s not stall speed, right? Let’s slow briefly to 200 and make sure she’s still controllable.”

“Then speed up?”

“Absolutely.”

“Seventeen miles out. I’ve got some ground contact out there. Okay, slow her up, but the second we start getting an excessive descent rate…”

“I’ll dump the nose. Don’t worry.”

Dan held enough back pressure to let the airspeed bleed away, feeling the aircraft as best he could as she decelerated through 210 knots and then 205, aware of a sudden buffeting that was shaking the flight deck with alarming force.

“Speed up!” Jerry called as Dan forced the stick forward, accelerating the aircraft again to 220 knots. “What the hell was that?”

“Precisely what I was worried about,” Dan said. “We’ve got serious damage out there. The buffeting was from the right side.”

“We’re sixteen miles out. You have the airport visual?”

“I… think so. Coming through 8,000 at 1,500 feet per minute descent.”

“Not enough, Dan! Drop her to 2,000 feet per minute descent rate. We’ll take the additional airspeed.”

“I’d suggest gear down one mile out, Jerry.”

“Right. No more.”

“Maybe more if we’re over 240! Our speed brakes work?”

“Yes, but do NOT use them! Keep it on this glide angle and keep the speed under 230 without them,”

“Roger. But I will use them for landing.”

“Got it. We’re at 7,000 feet, fourteen miles out.”

“We’re too high.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes we are, Jerry. Too high and too fast. I’m gonna ‘S’ turn us.”

“Okay, but… don’t go too far in either direction.”

“Call the distance and altitude. I want to be at 1,000 feet three miles out at 220 knots. That’s the needle I need to thread—the ‘Gate.’”

“Okay… ah, ten miles to go to that gate, and we’re coming through 6,500, so…”

“Lose 5,500 feet in ten miles and we’re going four miles per minute.”

“Right. That’s—”

“That’s 2,200 feet per minute down, or a couple of good ‘S’ turns.”

“Okay.”

“Everyone ready in the back?”

“What? Yeah, I guess.”

“Yes, they are,” Bill Breem replied from the back of the cockpit.

“Not too much, Dan! Just a few shallow turns.”

“Got it.”

“We’re 240 knots now, down 2,000.”

“Altitude?”

“Ah… ah… coming down through 4,000, six miles from the gate we want.”

“That’s about right. Coming back to centerline,” Dan said, shocked that his voice sounded so unreasonably calm. “I can see the airport ahead.”

“We’ve got one shot at this, Danny!”

“Yeah… no pressure, right?”

“Right. You’re at 240 knots, 2,100 down, through 3,000 above the ground, 2,000 above the gate, a bit over four miles from the gate.”

“Got it. I’m going be twenty knots too fast. Wanna drop the gear?”

“What will it do to us?”

“Slow us down. Maybe too much. But we’re way too fast.”

“Hold on, just… hold on. You’re steady on 240, slowing a hair, on descent rate, three miles from the gate, ahead of the descent rate, a bit over a thousand to lose.”

“I’ll pull the nose up a bit and slow. Jerry, to recap, the Landing Gear Gravity Extend lever is below the landing gear lever and remember it has to be pulled out toward you before moving it down.”

“I know.”

“Just wanna make sure.”

“Got it.” Jerry watched the numbers winding down, trying to stay ahead of the unfolding scenario but feeling like he was somewhere behind, chasing the bird.

“We’re 230 and slowing.”

“Distance?”

“Two from the gate, 500 above.”

“Just… a… little more.”

“We’re 225, Dan. One mile to go, just a hair above 1,000 feet.”

“I’ve got the runway. Are we cleared to land?”

“Who the hell cares? But yes, we are.”

“On speed?”

“Yes! Yes, you’re doing it right: 220, through the gate at 950 feet, a hair less than three miles out.”

“Don’t drop the gear yet.”

“I won’t. We’ll plan for a mile out.”

“Pray it works.”

“Already in progress. Two miles to go, 600 feet.”

“Roger.”

“Hold her, man. We’ll have a large nose up angle on touchdown with zero flaps.”

“Got it. Gear down, Jerry!”

“Roger, gear down,” the captain replied, reaching to the copilot’s side to reach the Landing Gear Gravity Extension selector, opening the safety door and moving it down . The sound of the unlocks on the nose landing gear releasing the nose gear into the slipstream combined with the feeling of deceleration as the main gear became speed brakes, pitching them up slightly before latching into place just as a loud metallic report reached them from the right side..

“JESUS!” Dan yelped, fighting the sudden roll to the right.

“We… lost something out there! Hold her!”

“I’m trying!”

“Half mile, 200 feet, 210 knots,” Jerry called.

“It’ll be a sudden flare. I’m full left stick and some left rudder… and she’s shaking again!”

“One hundred feet, Dan. Hang on! Start your flare.”

“Not yet.”

“NOW, dammit! We could be losing hydraulics!”

“Hold it… okay, now.” Dan’s hand pulsed backward on the sidestick, causing the huge panels on the jet’s horizontal stabilizer to pulse upward using the last of the uninhibited hydraulic pressure, the nose of the Airbus rising rapidly as they traded speed for lift and slowed the descent rate, the deck angle becoming almost frightening. In the left seat Jerry internally braced himself for impact, but the nose continued to rise along with the onset of the same heavy buffeting they’d felt minutes before. There was nothing to do but hang on, and the fact that the four wheels per side on the main gear had just kissed the runway at almost a zero descent rate was slow to dawn until Jerry realized Dan was releasing the backpressure slowly, lowering the nosewheel to the runway and carefully bringing in the brakes to absorb the massive inertia of an Airbus at 200 knots.