Rogue Element Read Online Free PDF Page B

rate of descent began to slow as the air thickened, just as the manual said it would.
    Flemming pulled back on the control wheel and the aircraft’s nose began to rise slowly.
    ‘Three thousand feet to altitude.’ Granger continued the countdown.
    The g-forces built, driving the pilots and passengers into their seats.
    ‘Two thousand feet to altitude.’
    The aircraft rumbled and shook, angrily protesting against the loads acting on it.
    ‘One thousand feet to altitude.’
    The captain eased the control forward to the neutral position as the jumbo levelled out.
    ‘At altitude!’ announced Granger, sweating profusely.
    The 747 sat on 10 000 feet, just above a blanket of stratus cloud.
    ‘The Lowest Safe Altitude in these parts is around eight thousand feet!’ Rivers said, yelling the information as she juggled a bunch of maps and charts. ‘We’ve got Mount Kambuno with a spot height of around eight thousand nine hundred feet, but I think it’s to the north of our position!’ She checked the aircraft’s FMC. She noticed for the first time that both the flight navigation and directional instrumentation were dead. Shit! There was no way of knowing for certain exactly where they were. Nevertheless, she was still reasonably sure of their position.
    ‘LSA, eight thousand,’ confirmed Granger. He checked the altimeter. They were at 10 000 feet. That meant just 2000 feet of air between them and the end of Qantas’s perfect fatality-free record.
    The hydraulics pressure warning light flashed. Granger and Flemming checked the pressure gauge. It was falling. Hydraulics – oil – was the aircraft’s blood. The 747 had four redundant hydraulics systems. Something had taken them all out of operation. The aircraft only needed one of those systems to operate the flaps, ailerons, elevator and undercarriage. Without those control surfaces, the plane was not flyable. Or landable.
    Flemming took his foot off the left rudder pedal. The 747 yawed to the right with the asymmetrical thrust provided by the two good engines on the left wing. The effecton the dropping hydraulics pressure was slight but significant. Mercifully, it decreased.
    The 747 was capable of maintaining altitude on two engines, even climbing slowly, but with falling hydraulics pressure they were merely forestalling the inevitable.
    The three pilots on the flight deck knew that their lives hung by the barest of threads. If they turned the plane around using the ailerons, elevator and rudder, the drain on the hydraulics system could mean there wouldn’t be enough pressure left to lower the flaps or undercarriage for landing. And with both engines on one side of the plane inoperable, attempting to steer it with the throttles wasn’t an option.
    ‘The news gets worse,’ said Rivers, ripping off her oxygen mask along with Granger and Flemming. They were now in a breathable atmosphere.
    Thick, crimson blood slopped from the captain’s mask. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured them, waving his hand dismissively before wiping his nose with the sleeve of his white shirt.
    Rivers checked the FMC. ‘We’ve got no radios, no transponders, nothing.’
    ‘Yeah, saw that,’ nodded Granger.
    All three of them looked at the displays, which were usually filled with numbers. Blank. The 747 carried two VHF (line-of-sight) radios, an HF (long distance) radio and two transponders, transmitters that painted their 747 on air traffic control screens on the ground. Surely they couldn’t all be stuffed?
    The 747 began to sink slowly through 10 000 feet, the LSA. Now that it was yawing due to unequal thrust provided by the two remaining engines on the left wing, the aircraft was presenting more of its surface area to the airflow. That meant more friction, and therefore more power was neededto overcome it if they were to continue flying level. Flemming goosed the throttles slightly. The added thrust stabilised the aircraft again at 10 000 feet. Soon, however, there would be no