Why?
Why go through the process of hiring him at all, if they weren’t going to tell him what this was all about?
Sam made a digital copy of the sphere with his smartphone. He attached it to a message for Elise, with a single question — Please identify.
He then pressed play, and the video continued.
The pilot said, “I’m going to disconnect the autopilot and take over manual control for a minute.”
“Copy that,” replied the copilot.
The pilot disengaged the autopilot and took over manual control of the large aircraft. Sam watched as the man gently eased the wheel forward, dipping the nose and then pulling it toward his chest. The artificial horizon showed their nose pitch downward and then upward, before the pilot gently leveled the aircraft to straight and level once more.
The pilot shrugged. “She seems to be responding fine.”
The copilot pointed to the altimeter. “We’re still descending.”
“All right, let’s increase power and see what happens.”
“Agreed.”
The pilot increased power to all four Pratt & Whitney engines.
Sam glanced at the altimeter. It was still slowly rotating counter-clockwise, meaning they were still on a steady descent.
The pilot saw it, too. “I don’t get it. We’re not making any difference to it. One thing is for certain, all three of these instruments can’t be wrong.”
“I’m running through the checklist now!” the co-pilot said, opening the emergency checklist for primary flight display faults.
He scanned the boldface information. These were the actions that were absolutely critical to survival — so called because in their flight training manuals they were written in boldfaced capital letters. The term, boldface, was said to be written in blood because these critical steps, usually created from an accident investigation, were ones that should have been taken to avoid a fatal crash but weren’t. These steps could, in a crisis, save your life.
“Right. I’m going through the list now.” The copilot opened up his flight manual and ran through a checklist for potential faults leading to instrument disparities. In this case, specifically, the altimeter and airspeed weren’t matching up.
Sam found himself impressed by the professionalism and competence displayed by the pilots. They were clearly experienced. This sort of situation was the thing of nightmares in terms of airmanship. In thick cloud cover and without accurate instrumentation, a pilot could quickly become disoriented and panic. It was a recipe for disaster. Unable to trust the effectiveness of the artificial horizon, speedometer, or altimeter, a pilot had little means of maintaining the aircraft in straight and level flight.
Yet, still. At this stage, the two pilots were working the problem in a calm and efficient manner. Such an event was a true proving ground where pilots demonstrated how well-rounded their capabilities were, but more often a crucible where pilots identify gaps in their knowledge, leading to a domino effect, quickly cascading into an irreversible disaster.
Few people survived such events.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment as he recalled that these two men, despite their competence, failed to survive the event.
The copilot said, “I’m manually checking the air driven gyroscope, GPS, and inertial navigation to get an accurate reading of our attitude.”
The captain said, “Read me the numbers when you’re ready.”
“Okay, got it. We’re flying straight and level. Our altitude is 42,000 feet, and our speed is 470 knots.”
The captain shook his head. “I don’t believe it. That’s exactly what I have.”
“Any ideas what caused it?”
“There might have been a slight glitch in the primary flight display.”
Sam recalled how most information was digitally run through the primary flight display on a Boeing 747. The PFD is a modernization of older, fully mechanical displays that present the critical flight information on a fully-integrated display. This includes airspeed, altitude, attitude, and “bugs” — important, dynamically updated information calculated by the system’s computer. The biggest difference with the PFD is that the underlying mechanical measurement systems — the gyroscope, the pitot barometric pressure instruments, and differential pressure gauges — are totally separate to the display.
A third pilot stepped into the cockpit.
Hello. Sam paused the image and took a copy of the man’s face. Who are you?
“What’s going on?” the new pilot asked.
He was most likely the third pilot, currently on his rotational rest time.
The captain said, “We had a problem with our primary flight display. Some of the data was being incorrectly displayed, but it seems to have worked itself out now.”
“Do you want a hand?”
“Yeah, you want to plug the maintenance laptop into the BUS and run a diagnostic test?”
“Sure.”
“If you find anything, let me know, and we’ll switch over to the secondary flight display.”
“All right, I’m on it.”
The third pilot turned, and a moment later, everything changed.
A series of loud warning alarms screamed and flashed.
The captain said, “I’ve got fires in engines 1 and 2.”
All three of their heads raced to the port window. The wing was entirely obscured by the thick cloud cover.
“Anyone have a visual?” the captain asked.
“No,” came the reply.
“All right. I’m shutting down engines 1 and 2.”
“Confirm,” the copilot said. “Shutting down engines 1 and 2.”
The pilot in command increased power to engines 3 and 4 and applied pressure to the right rudder to counteract the yaw to the port side.
The third pilot said, “I’m going to plug into the maintenance BUS and see if I can work out what’s going on with those engines.”
“Understood. Let me know what you find.” The captain then said to his copilot, “Get me the coordinates for Oslo Airport.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain was about to voice a mayday when he noticed their airspeed was decreasing and their altitude was plummeting.
He said, “We’re losing altitude.”
“How?” the copilot said, “Engines 3, and 4 are at maximum power.”
The Dreamlifter should have been able to maintain its altitude with just two engines running.
The captain’s eyes darted across a series of instruments, trying to determine the cause of the problem.
“Could we still be having the same problem with the primary flight display?”
The copilot checked off the numbers from the secondary flight displays. The readings seemed to be matching up.
The captain was about to instruct his off-duty officer to switch over to the secondary flight displays when the warning light for engine number 4 lit up.
“We’ve got another engine fire!”
The copilot pressed his eyes to the starboard window. “I can’t see anything!”
“Yeah, well I don’t want a fire on board. I’m shutting her down.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
The captain shrugged. “What choice have we got?”
“It might be another glitch.”
“And it might not be. If we’re wrong, we have nearly 50,000 gallons of aviation fuel ready to ignite.”
“All right, all right. Let’s shut down.”
The captain checked that he had the shutdown switch for engine number 4, confirmed it, and then shut it down.
He then depressed the microphone and calmly voiced his mayday, including their rough position, and that they were going to head toward the Oslo Airport in Norway for an emergency landing, but at this stage, he believed they had a fault with their instruments, not their engines or aircraft controls.