Pilot Betrayed

by Split Scimitar

Onward

“Friendship 1, for border crossing time, hold East of BEMOX, left turns, FL320, EFC 10 minutes.”

“East of BEMOX, left turns, FL320, 10 minutes, Friendship 1. If able, request 5 minute legs.”

“Friendship 1, approved as requested.”

“5 minute legs, Friendship 1.” I respond. Just for currency purposes, I hand fly this.

At the end of one lap, I modify my next leg by a few seconds to time a crossing of BEMOX right when we need to. If you want to be pedantic, we exit the hold and I report it, but we cross our fix about 8 seconds late.

“Friendship 1, exiting the hold at BEMOX.”

“Friendship 1, roger. Thank you for the hold. Resume own navigation.”

“Own nav now, Friendship 1.”

Just as I release the push-to-talk, there’s a loud pop followed by a burst of static feedback. The displays flicker, and the lights cut out for a split second, but no other anomalies to report.

The flight continues without much trouble. However, as the clock strikes 0737Z, I get some alarming news from my warning lights.

“GEN 1 FAULT” “GEN 2 FAULT”

“Oh no.” My expression drops as I scroll through the other alerts. Sure enough, my worst fears are realized.

“GEN 1 FAIL” “GEN 2 FAIL”

“Well great.” I whisper to myself, making sure Twilight doesn’t hear me. “Better attempt restart.”

“APU, start. APU generator, on.”

Once alight, I initiate the restart procedure.

“Generator 1 ready for restart.” “On!”

“GEN 1 FAULT” “GEN 1 FAIL”

“Let’s try number 2.” “Generator 2 ready for restart.” “On!”

“GEN 2 FAULT” “GEN 2 FAIL”

Suddenly, just as I try generator 1 again, a loud bang erupts from the back. The noise wakes up Twilight, who screams in fear.

“Shit.” I whisper to myself. “Twilight, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“Easy for you to say!”

“I know you’re nervous right now, but I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Okay...”

“Please head for the rows around the wings and look for any anomalies.”

“Okay.”

“Anchorage Center, Friendship 1, mayday mayday mayday.”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage Center, go ahead.”

“Friendship 1, just lost both engine generators. If the need arises, we do have a handheld radio, but we will need priority handling into Anchorage. We’ll go ahead and squawk 7700 at this time.”

“Friendship 1, roger.”

Tuning 7700 in the transponder, I hear another loud bang from the back. Twilight then screams immediately, which jostles her parents awake after I peer through the doorway. Twilight then runs back to the cockpit and nervously says,

“That loud bang came from the wing area.”

“Was there any sort of sparks or fire?”

“No.”

“How about smoke?”

“No.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go ahead and get seated. I can’t restart the engine generators, and the APU and its generator aren’t gonna provide enough juice to sustain proper electrical power. This airplane will suffer a complete loss of electrical power in about 10 minutes.”

Twilight goes paler than a bucket as I then grab her arm and look her dead in the eye.

“I know you’re nervous, but trust me. Everything is going to be okay.”

Swallowing nervously, sweating profusely, and trembling like San Francisco, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and heads for the cabin.

“Anchorage Center, Friendship 1 calling from a handheld. How do you read?”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage, loud and clear!”

“Friendship 1, good to hear.”

There is still one more straw to clutch. Underneath a red toggle switch next to the generator switches is the last ditch effort to garner as much electrical power as possible. Let’s deploy the RAT!

“Ladies & gentlemen, from the flight deck, due to further mechanical issues, we will shortly experience a complete loss of electrical power. As a result, please unplug all devices from seat power at this time. We will still be landing in Anchorage on time, but we will be without electrical power. Please at this time open all windows and prepare for landing. Return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. Return your chair backs and tray tables to their full upright and locked position, and please store all cabin baggage and loose articles at this time, thank you.”

No sooner do I hang up the PA when the displays flicker and ultimately black out. Battery off, generators off and secure. The RAT and APU are now our only sources of electrical power.

“Friendship 1, radar contact lost. Say position.”

“Friendship 1, over JUTBU, at FL200 descending.”

“Friendship 1, Roger, can you accept the PTERS Three arrival?”

“Friendship 1, unable. We are now without electrical power.”

“Friendship 1, what’s your speed?”

“404 knots true.”

“Friendship 1, roger. Which runway would you like?”

“Roger, Friendship 1. Can we follow the Matanuska River valley and make a decision from there?”

“Friendship 1, approved. Be advised, radar service unavailable below 10,000.”

“Roger, Friendship 1.”

“Friendship 1, descend and maintain 8,000, slow to 170 knots. Gulkana altimeter 29.90.”

“Follow Matanuska valley, down to 8,000, 170, 29.90, Friendship 1.”

Flaps? Yes! The APU and RAT combined can only power the essential equipment, which thankfully includes the flaps.

Now that the valley’s opening up, below V_LO, gear down. 3 Green, Down and Locked via gravity drop.

“Friendship 1, contact Anchorage approach, 118.6.”

“118.6, thanks for the help, Friendship 1.” “Anchorage Approach, Friendship 1, 9,200 for 8,000.”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage Center, roger. Say position.”

“5 NW of Palmer, Friendship 1.”

“Friendship 1, roger. Fly heading 205.”

“205, Friendship 1.”

“Friendship 1, with the wind 030 at 9, could you accept runway 7L or 7R?”

“Friendship 1, request 7R.”

“Friendship 1, roger. Remain north of Knik Arm, proceed direct to and report the mouth of the Little Susitna River.”

“North of Knik Arm, direct to, will report the mouth of the Little Susitna River, Friendship 1.”

“Friendship 1, where are you parking?”

“Is there anyone that can take an A320 for major repairs?”

“Friendship 1, stand by.”

Flaps 2. Spoilers armed.

“Friendship 1, contact Anchorage tower, 118.3, they’ll help you out.”

“118.3, thanks for the help! Friendship 1.”

“No problem, good luck to you!”

“Thanks a bunch, Friendship 1.” “Anchorage tower, Friendship 1, on a handheld, Visual 7R.”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage tower, say position.”

“Friendship 1, Approaching the mouth of Little Susitna river.”

“Friendship 1, roger, if able, dogleg your base to avoid overflight of Fire Island. Runway 7R, cleared to land.”

“Cleared to land 7R, Friendship 1.”

Speed 140, V_ref. Final approach 130, touchdown at 125.

Flaps 3. Speed to 135.

PAPI reporting 3 white. Power back to taxi. Flaps full.

50.

40.

30.

20.

10.

Touchdown. Spoilers up, directional control established, rolling resistance from slush. 2 in reverse.

“Friendship 1, exit at D or C, your choice.”

“We’ll take C, Friendship 1.”

“Friendship 1, roger, left C, cleared onto runway 7L, left B, then contact ground .9.”

“C, cleared onto 7L, left B, ground .9 on B, Friendship 1.”

Taxi, after landing checklist.

“Anchorage ground, Friendship 1 off 7L at B, who’s taking me in?”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage ground, Pegasus can take you, but not until 0900 local. With your complete electrical failure, will you need a tow?”

“Friendship 1, yes please.”

“Any port vehicles on frequency?”

“Ground, you’ve got Car 95.”

“And 97.”

“Are there any tugs available?”

“I’ll check, car 95.”

“Car 97, can you wing walk?”

“Affirm.”

“Car 97, roger. E K D, hold short runway 7L.”

“E K D, short of 7L, Car 97.”

“Car 95, what’s the word?”

“We’ve got 1 available, on the air in 10 minutes.”

“Car 95, roger. Can you wing walk?”

“Affirm, 95.”

“Car 95, E K D, hold short runway 7L.”

“E K D, short of 7L, car 95.”

“Friendship 1, if you can, creep up for your escort vehicles, then you can shut down.”

“Friendship 1, nose wheel on the Tee, shutting down now.”

Once everything is off, I disarm the main preemptively and head back to check on the passengers, who are sitting in pitch black. I turn on my red headlight and distribute the other lights.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask.

“A little tired, but just fine!” Night Light utters stifling a yawn.

“I’m so, so sorry, I feel so bad about this whole thing.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for your calm throughout this situation.” Night Light responds.

“Friendship 1, ground.”

“Friendship 1, go ahead.”

“We’re still waiting on your tug, so stay with me.”

“Copy, Friendship 1.” “It’s almost 2:00 am, I hope you aren’t too terribly inconvenienced.”

“Are you kidding?” Velvet asks. “I couldn’t have asked for a better start to this visit! The storm, the generators, the diversion... and your calm through the situation as if you knew exactly what to expect. You’re a great pilot!”

“All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

“Anchorage ground, Alaska Tug.”

“Alaska Tug, Anchorage ground.”

“The super tug driver has gone home and no one else is qualified to drive it, so a regular tug will have to do.”

“Great. You guys are splendid!”

“Ground, car 97.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

“Holding short of 7L, request runway crossing for the right wing.”

“Car 97, cleared onto runway 7L, then left onto B.”

“Cleared onto 7L, left on B, Car 97.”

“Anchorage ground, Alaska Tug.”

“Yes?”

“Ready to proceed.”

“Alaska Tug, E K C to your aircraft.”

“E K C, Alaska Tug.”

“And, Alaska Tug, are you an electric or gas?”

“Uh, it’s electric.”

“Nice.” I say rhetorically.

“I don’t mean to be a wet blanket,” Twilight says, “but I want to go to bed.”

“I know, and I’m really really sorry. I swear hand on heart that this was completely unexpected. The thunderstorm was not forecast to move that fast, I underestimated radar attenuation, and in all honesty, I should’ve brought a Boeing.”

“Why?”

“It can handle turbulence better. An A320 of this age and generation is known for its often temperamental generators. I’ve had them replaced once before, but now that I think about it, I might have a theory about what that loud bang was about.”

All 3 look at me rather inquisitively as I continue. “The generators were jarred off their mounts. Thankfully they didn’t explode, which explains how they survived the journey to Yellowknife. They were able to provide some power until they failed.”

Twilight lets out a nervous yuck as the radio comes back on,

“Ground, Alaska Tug.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is the aircraft available to communicate?”

“Friendship 1, ground.”

“Go ahead, Friendship 1.”

“The tug is ready. You can communicate here on Ground frequency.”

“Roger that.” I reply. “Alaska Tug, Friendship 1.”

“Go for Alaska Tug.”

“Do you know where you’re putting us? Pegasus is doing our repair.”

“Uh, Great Circle or Ross are the only ones open right now for parking. I don’t know who has space for you.”

“Alaska Tug, ground.”

“Go for Tug.”

“Alaska Tug, advise when ready to tow.”

“Copy, Alaska Tug.”

“Friendship 1, ground.”

“Friendship 1.”

“Great Circle and Signature are open, and both can take you. However, you need to be towed to Customs first.”

“Roger, I’ll let the tug know.” “Alaska Tug, Friendship 1.”

“Go for Alaska Tug.”

“We’ll need to be towed to customs and then on to Signature.”

“Copy, Alaska Tug.” “Ground, Alaska Tug is Ready.”

“Alaska Tug, B K E to Customs.”

“B K E to Customs, Alaska Tug.”

As I eye the path the tug illuminates, we top out at a biblical 3 mph.

“That tug’s not a super, is it?”

“No, only one of us is qualified to drive it, and he’s gone home for the night.”

“Curiosity question, why does the super tug need specially qualified operators?”

“It’s because of the way it mates. With this kind of tug, we just link up the push bar. In the super tug, it mates automatically, which requires extra training that I haven’t received yet.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

“Friendship 1, ground.”

“Friendship 1.”

“For your information, 130.55 for Signature Unicom.”

“130.55, Friendship 1. You want us to stay with you?”

“Friendship 1, affirm.”

“Roger, Friendship 1.” “How you doin?” I ask Twilight.

“Just glad we’re on the ground at this point.”

“I can’t apologize enough for this inconvenience. I feel really bad about this. That is not the best experience I can provide. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. We are nevertheless very grateful for this opportunity.”

“Absolutely. I ask only your friendship in return.”

“Oh, well, let’s not let a little thing like total mechanical or electrical failure ruin our trip!” She responds playfully as I sit back and watch the tow.

The frequency is completely silent, and most of the airport is pretty dark. I find it kind of odd, because normally at this hour, cargo flights should at least be making the place appear somewhat lively.

20 hypnic jerking minutes later, we arrive at the U.S. Customs ramp. After the tug unhooks us, I open the main door and air stair so we can deplane. I then meet the tug driver and ask if he’s gonna tow us back to the ramp, and he acknowledges positively. Just then, our customs officer arrives.

“Good evening, sir.” The officer says. “I apologize for my haste but I will need to thoroughly inspect this aircraft. Where’d you come from?”

“Indianapolis and Yellowknife. I diverted to Yellowknife after hours, inspected for turbulence damage from negotiating a thunderstorm, and continued on here. There was no agent on duty and it was an emergency situation.”

“And why did you make the decision to continue on despite your diversion?”

“Because after I completed a full inspection, I determined the airplane to be airworthy and in a condition for safe flight.”

“Okay.” He says as he shines a flashlight on various parts of the fuselage. “Passengers and cargo, please.”

“Three passengers and two cars. Our luggage and other things are onboard, may I unload them?”

“Sure.”

“Will somebody please help me back out the other truck?”

Twilight comes forward and joins me to the garage. The two trucks come out and the officer inspects the garage first.

“Anything to declare?”

“No.”

“I will need to inspect your luggage as well as your passports.”

“Of course. Would it help to inspect the bags on the bed of my truck?”

“Sure. Thanks for the help.”

“Happy to help.”

First is my duffel bag. Suspicious items? My laptop and iPad, but no problems there.

Up next, Twilight’s carryon. Again, a laptop and a tablet, but the object of interest in her bag is Saline solution. No objections though, so it’s on to the next one.

Velvet and Night Light have a suitcase each as well as a large combined suitcase. The latter first.

The officer is taken aback immediately with the contents. Mostly foodstuffs and some rather surprising things distinctly Philadelphian, so the officer says, “you‘re all set in the snack department!”

“That’s for our son! He just loves all this stuff.”

“I’ve never seen these before.” He says pointing to cheesesteak flavored crisps.

“I’ve only seen them in Philadelphia!” Velvet answers.

“That’s cool. This one’s good.”

Next, each of their suitcases. No trouble there surprisingly, so after I direct a complete inspection of the aircraft, the officer then inspects our passports.

“Welcome back to the States.” He says when he hands the last one back to us, “thank you for your cooperation.”

“Thank you sir, good night.”

We then replace the trucks, and re-board to head to get towed back to Signature. Just as the passengers step aboard, a white Tundra meets us.

“You, uh, Friendship 1?”

“Yeah?”

“Signature Flight Support. Figured we’d send a car to meet you.”

“Oh, thank you, but unfortunately, I need to stay with my ship, she’s in need of repair at Pegasus tomorrow.”

“Yeah? We can hold you. Does Pegasus know?”

“That’s what tower told me.”

“Well, how’s we meet you there, then you can come back and talk to Pegasus then.”

“Sounds good.”

“Ready to go?” The tug driver asks.

“Yeah.” I call back to the tug driver then say to the Signature employee, “Sorry to send you out.”

“No problem. We tried to call you, but we figured you’d still be with ground.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll meet you at the office.”

“Cool.”

No time lost, I retract the air stair and shut the door.

“Anchorage Ground, Friendship 1 for Alaska Tug.”

“Friendship 1, Anchorage ground. You ready to taxi?”

“Affirm, Taxi to Signature.”

“Roger, is Alaska Tug online?”

“Anchorage ground, Alaska Tug.”

“Alaska Tug and Friendship 1, Roger. Taxi Signature via E, hold short runway 7L.”

“E, short of 7L, Friendship 1.”

“Signature Truck, cross runway 7L, cross runway 7R, taxi E to your ramp.”

“Cleared across 7L and 7R, E to the ramp, Signature Truck.”

“Alaska Tug, ground. Company aircraft due out in 20 minutes, are you the only tug available?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roger, any Tugs on frequency?” He waits for a few seconds before he keys again, “Are there any airport tugs on ground frequency?”

“Ground, car 95.”

“You’re not an airport tug. Car 95, ground.”

“Next tug driver won’t be available until 4 am.”

“Okay, well, I guess the Alaska Cargo is gonna have to wait 20 more minutes before he can leave for Juneau.”

“Sorry.” I respond on frequency.

“Should’ve brought a Boeing.” Another voice echoes on ground.

“I know, right!” I respond back laughing. “Is that you, Car 97?”

“Yep.”

“Well done!”

“Thanks!”

“Alaska 7005, you copy that?”

“Alaska 7005, negative.”

“Alaska 7005, expect a 20 minutes’ delay for a broken A320 under tow.”

“Alaska 7005, roger. It’s Airbus, there’s your problem.”

“Ground, Friendship 1.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I wouldn’t mind if the tug could push company on time.”

“Friendship 1, roger. Break. Alaska tug, ground.”

“Go for Alaska tug.”

“Can you tow to E short of runway 7L and then disconnect there?”

“Copy, Alaska Tug.”

“Alaska 7005, clearance delivery 19.4, for a reroute.”

“119.4, Alaska 7005.”

“Friendship 1, thanks for your altruism.”

“No problem, Friendship 1.”

Soon, we come to a stop, and the tug driver declares on frequency,

“Ground, Alaska Tug is disconnecting from Friendship 1 at this time.”

“Alaska Tug, Roger.”

“Ground, Alaska Super Tug.”

“Alaska Super Tug, good morning. We’ve got a tow at E, short of 7L to Signature.”

“We’re closer to the company freighter, we’ll take them.”

“Alaska Tug, ground.”

“Go for Alaska Tug.”

“Super tug is closer to company, go ahead and continue your previous tow.”

“Copy, Alaska Tug.”

“Nice. All that for nothing.” I say to myself.

Another 10 minutes, and the tug finally gets into position to re-mate. In the process, I make note of our route.

“Planned: KIND MEARZ6.BVT J89 YWG J515 YXE J576 YWV NCA11 JOH.WITTI4 PANC - 2,681 NM, 3,086 mi, 4,967 km

Actual: KIND MEARZ6.BVT J89 YWG J542 YNE NCA15 YSM V21 YZF CYZF + CYZF YWY NCA17 ORT J124 GKN.PTERS3 PANC - 2,783 NM, 3,202 mi, 5,153 km”

Eventually, he radios, “Ground, Alaska tug, ready for tow.”

“Alaska tug, cleared across runway 7L, hold short 7R.”

“Cleared across 7L, short 7R, Alaska Tug.”

“Anchorage ground, Alaska 7005, R, ready to push.”

“Alaska 7005, ground, push approved.”

“Ground, Alaska 7005, R, taxi.” They call back a few moments later.

“Alaska 7005, Ground. Runway 7R, taxi via K, hold short runway 33.”

“K, 7R, short 33, Alaska 7005.”

“Alaska Tug, cleared across 7R, E to Signature.”

“Cleared across 7R, E to Signature, Alaska Tug.”

Finally, after an ungodly amount of time under tow, and approaching 12 hours total since I left for Indianapolis, the tug releases us at the Signature ramp. I disarm the main, and open the air stair. I’ve been yawning heavily, and the others are just waking up again.

“Rise and shine. We’re finally ready to head out.”

Twilight gives me a “loading hourglass” face before she says, “oh, cool.” Her parents are silent, but eventually, they sputter to life, also running on fumes. After my own self-evaluation, I ask who can drive to Shining Armor’s house. Just as I head inside to book a hotel, Velvet shouts,

“Max! How dare you leave us behind after all we’ve just been through together!”

“It’s already almost 6 am. You have the keys to the trucks. You may as well just head out to get some sleep.”

“Not without you!”

“I need to be back here in a few hours anyway to meet Pegasus, so...”

“Ok, but you’re coming with us!”

“Okay. I’ve lived long enough to not argue. Let me just grab my things and we can go.” I say as I grab my clothes bag and jump in MTCHS. After my engine fires up, they fire the diesel up. After a couple cranks beyond normal, the engine starts, and I mention to give it a high idle before we leave. After I head in to register the vehicles for ramp access, we finally leave Ted Stevens behind.

When we reach their house, the inky blackness of night ever so slightly gives way to astronomical dawn as Night Light knocks on the front door, answered by who I can only assume is Shining Armor.

“Dad?” He says half asleep.

“Hey, son. Sorry we’re late.”

“Mom? Twilight?”

“And we have one more.” Velvet says, “Our pilot and your soon-to-be landlord is with us for the night.”

“Or what’s left of it.” I add, “I hope you’ll get to know the real me later today.”

“Certainly.” He says as I offer my hand.

“Split Scimitar’s my name. I just go by Max.”

“Shining Armor. I look forward to “meeting you” soon.”

“How’s the wife and child?” I ask half-chuckling.

“They’re asleep in our room.”

“Good.”

“Mom, Dad. Let me show you to your room. Twilight, your room is next to theirs. Max?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll happily sleep on your couch. It was your mother who saved me from a hotel.”

“Really? You fly my family all the way from Indianapolis and you still decide to leave us behind?”

“I’m really not gonna get out of this, am I?”

“Nope!”

“We’d like Twilight to join the doubles club. With you, perhaps?” Velvet teases at me.

“MOM!” Twilight screams as we exchange equally shocked looks.

Laughing heartily, Velvet exclaims, “you would not believe the weather that delayed our plane! It totally came out of nowhere!”

As they turn the corner, I grab my next day’s clothes and toiletries for the night. I ask for a bathroom, change and brush my teeth so that by the time I get settled into sleep, the sun, is over Phoenix.

Author's Note:

RAT stands for Ram Air Turbine. It uses the speed of the aircraft through the air to spin a wind turbine to generate electrical power. It is only used when there is a significant loss of electrical power and provides power to the most essential equipment in flight.