Part VII

Final Approach

Dario couldn't believe it. With a ponderous but steady rumbling, the EPR and RPM gauges for number 4 began to climb. It was like the aircraft, like some enormous living creature, had been slowly drowning to death, but now had just gasped and sputtered back to life.

"Engine 4 back online!" he announced, triumphantly.

"Hang on, we're not out of the woods just yet," cautioned Jonah.

"Right," said the Captain. "Dario, how far can we fly on one engine? Weight... uh... just assume fully loaded."

"Well, I can tell you already, we'll at least make it as far as the crash site," japed Dario as he flipped through his checklist, looking for the correct page. It was probably not the most appropriate thing to say right now, judging by the stern looks he was getting, but he supposed he just really needed to vent. "We can't climb on one engine alone, not fully loaded, but we can maintain altitude at full power, at least 'til the fuel runs out."

"Let's avoid full power," said Jonah, "there's no telling how much of a beating the engines took in that... whatever that was."

"Right now, I've got number 4 running at 6k rpm," said Dario, checking the gauges, "we're still going down, just not as fast as before." He also took a glance to check the airspeed and altimeter. In the time they had taken to restart just the one engine, they had fallen yet another vertical mile.

"Alright then, engine restart, number 1," said the Captain, as Dario noted, finally sounding like herself again, before she went all loco and all this craziness had started. "From the top. Cross-feeds?"

"Check, open!"

Now, with one engine operable, the entire process was sped up considerably, since they could use bleed air from number 4 to restart the other turbines, instead of relying on just the backup generator. And sure enough, just like number 4, other surprises awaited them - pleasant surprises, for once.

"All engines back online!" declared Dario, as, one by one, the EPR and N1 gauges kicked back on; the lone rumbling of number 4 was now joined by a whole chorus. He could barely contain himself. "Haha! We are back in business!"

Judging from the sudden round of applause and cheers and cries of relief they could hear from the cabin, just barely over the roar of the starting engines, but present all the same, it seemed the passengers too shared in their euphoria.

"Boys, I say we put some distance between us and the ground," smiled the Captain, calmly pulling back the control column.

"Aye, you can say that again!" breathed Jonah.

As they climbed, however, it wasn't look before a familiar and unwanted sight returned to haunt them. Just as the altimeter had started to climb again and they had gone past 15k, Dario thought he heard Jonah curse. He looked up from his station in time to see a greenish spark flash past the windshield. It was followed by another. And another. And before long, the strange lights began again.

"Bloody 'ell!" spat Jonah.

A split second later, Dario's eyes raced back to his station as yet another warning light began flashing again. This time, though, he already knew what it was, as above the steady rhythmic drone of the engines, there came a most unpleasant sound. Oh fuck, not again!, thought Dario, "Captain, number 3's surging again!"

"No. Not this time," declared the Captain, with cold, grim determination in her voice, "screw this, we're getting all Seven Hells out of here. Dario, engine shutdown, number 3." Dario wasn't sure what she meant by "Seven Hells" but the rest was obvious as she pushed the yoke forwards, and, with that, DAL Flight 9 began to descend once more.

"Dragon One Niner to Tower," said Jonah, "Dragon One Niner to Tower; mayday, mayday, mayday! Requesting emergency landing."

"Who is this?" barked the response, a gruff and annoyed voice, though to the crew, it was a Godsend knowing that they were back in touch with the real world.

"Dragon One Niner," repeated Jonah, "declaring an emergency. We're flying on three engines; we have injured passengers and possible internal damage due to encounter with... uh, anomalous weather conditions. Over."

Pause.

"There is no Dragon One Niner scheduled in this area," replied the controller's voice. "Are you sure you have the right operating number?"

"Dammit, just give us a clearance!" fumed Jonah behind gritted teeth, losing his patience. "Please! We have a damaged jumbo jet with over 300 people onboard!" He stopped to catch his breath. "Sorry, over."

There was another pause.

"Dragon One Niner, we have you on primary radar, squawking 7700, heading 345, flight level 120, 310 knots. Please confirm."

"Affirmative," replied Jonah, "yes, that's us. Over."

"Thank you, Dragon One Niner. Your position has been confirmed. Please proceed to Papa Beacon, heading four-zero, and hold at level five-zero, at two-three-zero knots. I repeat: Papa Beacon, heading four-zero, hold at level five-zero. We'll inform you when runway 10R is clear. Over."

"Roger that. Uh... is Runway 10R at least three thousand meters? Over."

"I'm afraid we don't have three thousand meters," said the controller, "this is a regional airport. We have a maximum of two thousand, one hundred. I repeat, two-thousand, one-hundred. Over."

Jonah and Dany looked at each other. "Uh... tower, what are your current weather conditions? Over."

"Dragon One Niner: weather's clear with a light breeze from the north-northwest, five knots. Runway's dry. Over."

Jonah took a minute to think on this. He looked first to Dany, and then over to Dario. "We're sitting at a little over 85% maximum payload," he muttered to them, "we'll have to dump fuel."

"We can make it," said Dario, pulling out the minimum landing distance chart included with the manual. "And with some breathing room to spare. That is, of course, assuming conditions are as he said. But Captain's got the final word."

Jonah looked to Dany. "Yes," she replied, firmly, "let's do this."

Jonah nodded, and then clicked his headset back on. "Uh, tower, this is Dragon One Niner. 2,100 is acceptable, thank you. Over."

"Dragon One Niner, you are cleared to land, Runway 10R. Proceed to the Papa beacon and then descend to level 15. Over."

"Roger. Can we evacuate on the runway? Please. Over."

"Affirmative. You can evacuate on the runway. We'll have emergency services on standby. Over."

"Roger that. Thank you very much. Over."

"Godspeed, Flight Dragon One Niner. Over and out."

"So, you're saying that those strange lights we saw outside the window were... the cause of the engine troubles?" asked Dr. Harrison Semley.

"Yes," said Captain Daniels, timidly and earnestly, "look, uh, Doctor, I know this all sounds like... like some wild story we made up, like, like, like I was going mad. But... well, that's just what really happened."

Dr. Semley frowned, thinking hard on all that she had divulged to him over the last few minutes. On one hand, he didn't doubt that she was telling the truth. Captain Amelia Daniels was proudly flaunted by the airline as their fiery and strong-headed "poster girl", and she had spoken with a collected and confident tone when she had first welcomed them all aboard, and for most of the flight up until things had started going awry. And so to see her as she was now - quiet, meek, a little paler like she had just seen a ghost, and not to mention too all the little things that only doctors tend to notice like her tremor and breathing - it was all a complete 180 on her part. Moreover, the first officer and the engineer too both looked shaken, so clearly something must have happened.

On the other hand, though, Dr. Semley could tell that the captain was hiding something, that she wasn't disclosing to him the full extent of the story. Fair enough, trauma can do that to people, but given how often times the devil truly was in the details, whatever she wasn't disclosing to him could be of just as much, if not greater, importance that what she had. He decided he would investigate this matter further, but all in good time. There were more important matters to deal with first.

He sighed. "I believe you," he began, trying to reassure the flight crew, "but whatever caused all of this... mayhem, we can worry about after we've landed. What matters most right now is that we get back on the ground as soon and safely as possible."

"How bad is it?" asked the first officer. "I heard one passenger broke both legs."

"Aye," nodded the doctor, "young lad. Quite brave too; he didn't scream at all when I tended to him." ...because I gave him a piece of leather to bite down on, thought Semley to himself, I really must pack anesthetics in carry on next time. "Several other passengers too, with broken bones, concussions, severe bruising, lacerations, all from that sudden dive you pulled. At least four passengers suffered asthma attacks from the smoke, though that seems to have dissipated now; I must say, it was a wise choice to bring the plane down to a breathable level as quickly as you did. And we also have a fellow in business who's severely dehydrated."

"Roger that," muttered the first officer. He checked his instruments. "Look, doctor, we're coming up on the beacon. We'll begin final approach in the next few minutes. Best get yourself seated, Doc."

Dr. Semley turned and began making his way back to his seat. But just before he stepped out and closed the cockpit door behind him, he took a moment to look back towards the crew. "Look, I just want to tell the three of you good luck; we're all counting on you."