Free Fall

Sixty-Three

Mobile, Alabama

Some thirty-four thousand feet above Mobile Bay, NorthSun Airlines Flight 118 was a little over an hour out of Miami when a bell sounded in the cockpit, indicating a flight advisory.

First Officer Sam Zhang’s brow creased as he studied the console screen.

“What is it?” Will Miller, the captain, asked.

“It’s an alert from the FAA advising extreme vigilance concerning any control anomalies. We’re to alert ATC if we experience any unexpected incidents beyond SOP. It arises from the Shikra crash at Heathrow and the EastCloud flight into LaGuardia.”

“Let me take a look.”

Miller had been a fighter pilot with the US Air Force prior to logging twenty-five years as a commercial pilot, the last fifteen as a captain. Zhang had flown cargo planes around the world before joining NorthSun, where he’d been a first officer for ten years. Miller read the alert on the screen, shook his head slowly then resumed looking into the sky.

They were flying on autopilot.

Their aircraft was the Brazilian-built Startrail AV600, one of the largest passenger jetliners in operation with a seating capacity of six hundred. Today they had a full flight, mostly European and Asian tourists who’d come off a Caribbean cruise for the second leg of their trip-an Alaskan cruise out of Seattle.

“So what’s your take on the advisory, Will?”

Miller raised his shoulders in a subtle shrug.

“To be honest, I think they’re overreacting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“There’ve been some recent news reports speculating on the causes. Maybe the FAA or NTSB’s got new information that gives them reason to be cautious?”

“Maybe. But this stems from Richlon-Titan’s systems and we know RT’s a penny-pincher with a penchant for cutting corners. Anyway, my buddies in the UK are hearing that Shikra was a computer malfunction, not a cyber breach.”

“What about what happened to EastCloud?”

“Word is that was clear-air turbulence and a distracted pilot.”

“So you have no concerns?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that, but our bird’s a long way from anything RT makes. It’s got a solid safety record, so I’d say we’re okay, Sam.”

Zhang nodded but failed to quell the slight twinge in his stomach over the advisory. He concentrated on monitoring readings on the flight deck, eyeing every parameter. The autopilot did its job, making minor self-adjustments for latitude, longitude, speed, course and direction as they continued their slow climb toward thirty-six thousand feet, the altitude they’d be at for much of the long flight.

Zhang took a soft breath.

All looked good.