Final Descent to Anchorage

As the plane approached 10,000 feet, Beth hung up the phone call from her husband mid-conversation. He mentioned he had something important to say, but whatever it was, it would have to wait. Nothing, not even a death in the family, could interfere with FAA regulations to maintain a sterile cockpit below 10,000 feet.

“We have begun our final descent into Anchorage,” Beth announced to the passengers, then rattled off the airline’s pre-landing instructions.

Turning to her co-pilot, James, she told him, “Your landing. Take the controls.”

On Alaska Airlines’ daily San Fran to Anchorage shuttle flight, things were tight in the 737’s cockpit. James was always inches away, and that day smelled as if he needed a shower. Having the same domicile city, they often shared flights, even shared a bed once or twice. But, no matter how much time you spend together, you can never really know someone, not what’s on the inside.

“Alaska,” Beth said, “we’re close to Russia up here in the 49th state.”

“Roger that,” he replied.

“It’s terrible what’s going on in Ukraine.” She had spent her downtime reading about the horrible things that happened there.

“Uh huh,” James mumbled.

“Just ‘Uh huh’?”

“Deploying flaps.”

“Isn’t what they are doing terrible, James?”

“I don’t read that sort of news. And I’m trying to concentrate on the landing.”

“The Bucha massacre. You must have heard about that?” The way he was ignoring her was really beginning to grate.

“I’m not sure it’s my problem.”

“It’s not your problem?!” she said, raising her voice. “How can you choose to just sit around landing planes while people are dying over there?”

“Our military also killed people.”

“Oh, that again. Just because you were in the Air Force doesn’t mean you know everything,” she said. “And your approach to ANC is 20 feet low.” She pulled the yoke back, a breach of protocol, only one pilot should handle the controls while landing.

“We have a light load today.” James said, and pushed the yoke forward. “I don’t know what gotten into you today.”

“Gotten into me? You mean being human?” Beth glanced over at this now suddenly awful man next to her. “I should have never slept with you in Phoenix.”

“But you did.”

“You weren’t even good in bed. To be honest, the worst ever.”

“Ha! Because I’m not with your program?” James said. “I’ve seen enough war. If you care about Ukraine, why don’t you go over there, fly an SU-27, and see how that works out?”

That was the last straw for Beth.

**

In the passenger cabin, the lights were dim and things had been quiet for hours. Taking advantage of the calm before the storm, US Assistant Secretary of State, Amanda Telluci, was reviewing notes for the upcoming meeting. A diplomatic trip to Vladivostok to meet the Russians to propose a ceasefire. This being a white-hot political topic, the DOS wanted to keep it off the radar, and booked a commercial air flight for the first leg.

Her partner for three days of negotiation would be Russian defense minister Luzhkov. Reviewing the CIA’s dossier on Luzhkov, some of the allegations of personal misconduct were awful. She would need to erase these facts from her mind. Smile at him for the next few days as if he was her kindly, long-lost uncle. If the world was just, he would face a war crimes trial one day. As she reread the dossier on her laptop, the plane suddenly began to maneuver erratically.

A voice came over the intercom, “This is the captain speaking. We can’t land the plane until the co-pilot of this flight calms down and agrees with everyone else that the Russians are evil in their illegal invasion of Ukraine.”

“This is your co-pilot,” another voice said. “I think our pilot means the Russian government is evil, not the Russian people. Apologies to any Russian passengers on board.”

Assistant Secretary Telluci looked around the cabin, saw a few men who appeared to be Russian. They looked upset, or perhaps anxious, she wasn’t sure which. The new FSA policies after 9/11 which prevented anyone from getting into the cockpit were reassuring.

The mechanical clunk of the landing gear being lowered was heard through the background noise. The sound of air rushing beneath the airplane filled the cabin. It was comforting they were only minutes to landing in Anchorage.

A mechanical whine sounded again. The landing gear were going back up.

The intercom hissed static, and then both of them spoke again:

“This is your co-pilot speaking. She won’t let me put the landing gear down.”

“This is your pilot. I am not going to be bullied into agreeing with someone else’s wrong opinion.”

“This is your co-pilot. I just don’t want to be involved in taking a side in this.”

Assistant Secretary Telluci thought this was getting ridiculous. She was the one who attended the weapons transfer negotiations last year. She was the one who was doing something about trying to bring peace to Ukraine.

“I’m with the US Department of State. I can handle this,” she said to perplexed looking people around her. A flight attendant walking past ignored her pleas to talk to the pilots.

The airplane made another lurch downward. The co-pilot announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know what’s going on here.”

Telluci shouted at him from her seat, “You are both American. Stop arguing!”

Of course, the intercom system only worked in one direction. They didn’t hear her.

“Hey you,” the passenger behind her interjected. “I don’t know who you are, but can you pipe down?” The man then started asking the other passengers, “Are there any other pilots on board?”

If they found a pilot, maybe they could send him forward, and have the pilots vote two out of three to decide whatever they were arguing about. Thats when Amanda realized the cabin policies to protect the pilots from the passengers, also protected the pilots from passengers who claimed to be pilots.

Over the intercom, the pilot announced, “This is his last chance.”

The icy ground below became ever nearer, then the snowy brush of Anchorage zoomed past her window.

**

After not hearing from his wife for an hour after her expected time of arrival, Greg turned on cable news and watched with a foreboding sense of dread. He did this every time she was out of contact. He was about to chalk it up to Beth’s capriciousness, and stop watching the TV, when there was a breaking news update.

“Shocking news of a commercial airline crash in Alaska. Authorities have announced that US Assistant Secretary of State, Amanda Telluci, was on board. The FSA has retrieved the black box, but are not releasing the contents, stating national security reasons. A source at the Pentagon says there are indications pointing toward Russian sabotage.”

The flight number shown on the screen was his wife’s.

Tears trickled down his cheek as he contemplated on how his life would never be the same. The words they had last spoken ran over and over through his mind. And to think, he was about to ask Beth why the results of the prenatal tests they had just received, showed that he was not the father.