Author's Note: So we have a perspective change here. Thanks to a movie I recently saw, we've got some new characters making an appearance in this chapter which I think you all will appreciate. :) I'd like to say that Captain John Hanson and his crew were phenomenal in safely landing their plane and saving all 404 people in 2002, and I'd like to dedicate this chapter to their heroism and excellent CRM (crew resource management) that allowed them to triumph against the odds and save their passengers and plane. They're real heroes, and fantastic pilots, and this chapter is all them.
Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the 298 people who died tragically a few days ago on Malaysian Airlines Flight 17. Unlike in this chapter, heroes can't always emerge to save the day, but they will not be forgotten.
Back to the Story
The white, snow-covered mountains that rose majestically over the city of Anchorage, Alaska, stole the former crop duster's breath away as he gazed, awestruck, ahead of him at the scenery. "Wow!" Dusty gasped, a smile crossing his features as he admired the majestic mountains and the tranquil waters of Anchorage harbor stretching out before him.
"It's really something, isn't it champ?" The words came from a red helicopter, whose rotors were beating the air as he flew by the SEAT's side.
"I'll say! Never been to Alaska before, but this is really something else!" Dusty Crophopper and Blade Ranger were flying north. It was a few days after Propwash Junction's annual corn festival that had been such a major hit this year, thanks in no small part to the air attack team of Piston Peak National Park showing up to put on quite the show. But it was back to work now for Dusty, who needed to be trained on how to battle airport fires. Fortunately, the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport had kindly offered to provide Dusty with some training this weekend, and so it was that the former crop duster and his firefighting mentor were heading north for some intensive training in combating airport blazes.
"Good morning Anchorage, this is Blade Ranger of the Piston Peak air attack team calling you. We're only a few minutes out, and I'd like to get some landing clearance for both myself and my partner here. As scheduled, we're here for firefighting simulations later this afternoon."
"Blade Ranger, copy, good morning. This is Anchorage tower. Vector out to route 239, hold, and you'll be second in line for landing this morning. Runway Seven Left. Copy?"
"Copy that, tower! Runway Seven Left! Vector 239! We'll head out there and await your clearance!" Blade responded, looking over at Dusty to make sure he understood. Dusty gave a single nod, and the two aircraft turned to the left and headed out over the bay as they lined themselves up for a landing on Runway Seven Left.
Dusty closed his eyes, loving the feel of the wind against his face. Only a few days ago, it looked as if he'd never fly again, but here he was, better than new, and ready to take part in his new training. Anchorage had facilities necessary to conduct fire training, as Propwash Junction lacked such facilities necessary to train Dusty.
"Blade Ranger, this is tower. You are second in line behind the Korean Airlines 747 heavy, copy?"
"Copy that! We see him!" Blade replied, noting the big blue body of the jumbo jet going in for its landing now. "Dusty, you know about wake turbulence, right?"
Heard of it!" Dusty responded.
"Well we're gonna wanna stay clear of that big 747 heavy, got it? His wings create vortexes that could easily throw you on your side, so keep a safe distance, champ." Blade instructed.
"Will do!" Dusty radioed back. He backed off his throttle a bit. Whenever Blade gave him advice, Dusty listened. He'd come to gain a deep respect for the helicopter, and so it was that he made sure to follow at a safe distance behind the big 747 before he started his own approach.
"Blade Ranger, this is tower. Cleared for landing, Runway Seven Left."
"Copy that! All right Dusty, I'm gonna set myself down on the helipad… good luck on your landing! I'll see you on the ground!" Blade banked to the right now, taking a more direct approach to the airport as Dusty began descending. Setting his wheels out, the pontoon plane lined himself up and came in for his landing, bumping down smoothly and throttling back to slow himself as he taxied over to where Blade had set down. "Nice landing, champ! All right… let's go meet your instructor." Rolling himself over the tarmac, Blade led the way to Hanger 5, where he'd been told Dusty's instructor would be waiting.
"So you aren't training me, Blade?" Dusty asked here.
"Well I'll certainly help out, but no, you're going to be evaluated by a professional airport firefighter. Don't worry… if you can fight wildfires, battling fires in buildings is a piece of cake. We'll get you trained in no time!" Blade told him confidently.
"All right! Well I'm ready… and hey… Blade… thanks for coming up here." Dusty said. "You know I really appreciate having you with me for this… it means a lot to know the best air attack helicopter in the business has my back." Dusty told his mentor gratefully.
"Hey champ…" Blade paused here as they made their way over to the hanger. "You did something I never thought I'd see out of you at Piston Peak. You fought one hell of a battle and you gave up yourself for others. I WANT to see you succeed as a firefighter, got that? You're one of the best damn SEATs I've ever trained, and your education is important to me, OK? This is no paint off my back, you got that? You ever need anything, you don't hesitate to ask." Blade told him sincerely.
"Thanks Blade… it does mean a lot." Dusty reiterated. He knew he was in good company whenever Blade was close. The helicopter had never given up on him, even when he'd been acting like a total jerk and getting himself into trouble multiple times during his training. Blade was a truly selfless aircraft, and Dusty could see that now. He knew Blade had a busy schedule, so to take some time out to help him improve as a firefighter only enhanced Dusty's already deep respect for his mentor. Little did either of them know… but Dusty's training was going to get off to a roaring start today…
500 miles to the west, out over the Bering Sea, a big Northwest Airlines 747 was cruising serenely on his way to Tokyo's Narita International Airport. He had departed Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport hours ago, and was now about two-thirds of the way through the trip, though he still had more than six hours to go before reaching Tokyo. Aboard him today were 386 passengers and 18 crew. Counting himself, 404 in all.
Captain John Hanson gave out a big yawn. It was just about time for him to sleep on this long flight while his flight crew took over flying him for the last leg of the journey. He'd wake up for the landing at Narita once he arrived over Japan. His cockpit door opened, and in drove a bespectacled SUV. Already at the controls in the first officer's position was First Officer Mike Fagan, a BMW who'd been on the flight only a short time as Senior First Officer David Smith was resting.
"Hey Frank, how are you?" Fagan asked the relief captain, Frank Geib.
"Pretty good! Ready for your rest, Captain Hanson?" Captain Geib asked the big jumbo jet.
"Am I ever." Hanson responded, smiling to himself.
"Well just close your eyes and drift off. We'll keep ya level, don't worry." Geib reassured him.
"All righty! Wake me up when we're over Japan!" Hanson instructed, and closed his eyes, his smile widening as he just let his soothing flight path lull him into sleep. Before long, the big 747 was sleeping soundly as his flight crew took over on the controls and kept him flying towards Tokyo.
"So how's the flight been?" Geib asked. Captain Hanson was one of the most luxurious 747s in Northwest Airlines' fleet. There was a spacious cabin for the flight crew to rest in during the long voyages, and Geib had been sleeping in it well until he'd woken up for his shift.
"Oh fine so far." Fagan responded, eating his dinner. "No incidents to report. We're making good time, and should arrive in Tokyo right on the nose."
"Great! You ever check out Tokyo?" Geib asked.
"Never really in depth. You?" Fagan replied.
"Yeah… in fact, I know this great pizza place you should totally check out, if you like pizza. I love flying into Tokyo at night… so many lights, and the neon and everything. It's fantastic." Geib sighed happily, pleased to have one of the coolest jobs in the world in his opinion.
"Nice… I'll have to check it out." Fagan responded. "You want some dinner?"
"Nah that's OK." Geib replied.
"You sure?"
"Trust me, I'm good." Geib reiterated.
The flight continued normally for the next 20 minutes or so, but that soon changed in dramatic fashion. As Geib flew the big jumbo jet, a violent lurch suddenly reverberated throughout the plane, and Hanson began to roll sharply to the left, quickly passing 30 degrees and rolling towards 40, a dangerous angle.
"What the hell?" Geib asked, reacting quickly to correct the roll. Hanson snorted, and immediately came awake.
"Huh? Wha?" he asked sleepily, immediately noticing a pain in his tail.
"Did we lose an engine?" Geib asked as he struggled to control the jet. He jerked the control stick hard to the right in order to throw the ailerons into a position to counteract the roll, and mashed his tire down onto Hanson's right rudder pedal.
"What's going on?" Hanson asked blearily. "Oooh! That's… ow! That's… weird!" he exclaimed, noticing a very strange sensation in his tail. Shortly, his roll was corrected, and fortunately, a catastrophe was averted thanks to Geib's quick actions, but it was clear Captain Hanson was in serious trouble.
"What's wrong? Did we lose an engine?" Geib asked his senior captain again.
"No… no we didn't. I think… I think something's busted in my tail!" Hanson exclaimed painfully. "I think it's the rudder! It's… weird. It's almost like… it's almost like the lower rudder's jammed or something! Agh!" he cried out, trying to move it but failing.
Boeing 747s were unique in that they had two rudders: an upper and lower one. This made them more resistant to rudder failures, but it was clear from the situation that Hanson was in trouble.
"Is it a rudder hard over?" Geib asked with concern. If something was broken… it might only get worse. He had control right now, but who knew how long that would last.
"I can't tell… all I know is it hurts and I can't control it. We need to get on the ground, NOW! If my rudder fails… we'll lose all control!" Hanson pointed out. Suddenly, memories of catastrophic tail failures such as the one that had occurred on Alaska Airlines Flight 261 flashed through his mind. The crew on that flight had struggled to control their plane while they attempted to divert to LA but hadn't made it. A critical section of that plane's tail had completely broken off and sent the plane into a steep dive that had killed all onboard. If Hanson broke any further, he knew he and his passengers could be facing the same fate. "How far is Tokyo?" Hanson asked.
"Still six hours away!" Geib responded.
"Damn! We need something closer! What's the closest airport? We're gonna need to divert!" Hanson ordered.
"Uh… Anchorage! But it's over two hours away!" Fagan responded, quickly checking his manual. "500 miles!"
Damn…" Hanson cursed again. "That's… that's our only shot." Fear was beginning to rise in him as he kept thinking of Alaska Airlines Flight 261. It didn't feel to him like his horizontal stabilizer was failing though… so that was something. But still… if his rudder got any worse, it could be disastrous for this flight. "Can you control the roll?" he asked his flight crew now.
"Yeah but I gotta basically hold the ailerons hard over and keep my tire pressed on your right rudder pedal. It's… really… hard." Geib grunted, the physical strain of keeping the plane level already starting to drain him. He had to push down on the pedal with all his might, and also keep the control stick hard over on its right side.
"Uhh… all right… Geib… let me take over, OK?" Hanson asked. "You can't possibly hold that position for over two hours, after all. I'll keep my ailerons and rudder hard over…"
"But captain! That'll put too much stress on you! You're gonna need help!" Geib insisted.
"Just… let me do this, for now, OK? That's an order." Hanson stated.
"Well… all right…" Geib said hesitantly.
"Take your tire slowly off the pedal… and slowly let go of the control stick… I'll take over." Captain Hanson assured him. "Mike, I need you to look through the manual and see what it says for a rudder malfunction or rudder hard over."
"Right!" Fagan backed up and pulled out a manual to begin flipping through it as Geib slowly lifted his tire off the rudder pedal and released the badly shaking control stick as Captain Hanson took control.
"Ugh… this is… I see what you mean by difficult. I don't even think I can turn right… I mean the rudder and ailerons are all the way over, but we're just barely flying level right now. Damn! What could've gone wrong? I've never experienced this before!" Captain Hanson exclaimed. "Declare an emergency! Alert Anchorage that we're diverting to them!"
"Got it!" Fagan responded as he continued to flip through the manual. "This is Northwest Airlines Flight 85. We are declaring an emergency! We have issues with our rudder of unknown origin! We require immediate diversion to Anchorage! Come in Anchorage! Do you copy?" Fagan asked, finding the right page for rudder malfunctions. "Repeat, this Northwest Airlines Flight 85. We are declaring an emergency…" Fagan repeated his call, but there was no answer from Anchorage. "I think we're out of range, sir!" Fagan relayed to his captain.
"Dammit… all right… let's assess our options and think about this." Hanson said, trying to take a step back and think things through. "All right look… we can make a left turn… very slowly… but that might be risky with my rudder being busted. If I alter the power to my left and right engines, increasing thrust on the left side engines and decreasing it on the right side, I'll be able to turn myself back towards Anchorage. We could try that! Mike, what's the manual say?" Captain Hanson asked his first officer.
"It just says decrease hydraulic fluid to the affected area!" Fagan called back.
"That's all?" Hanson asked in disbelief. "Yeah well, that's not gonna help us. OK first things first. Let's try turning me around using my engines. Frank, I'm gonna need you to handle my throttles… I'm gonna focus on keeping myself level and Mike, I'm gonna need you to contact Northwest Flight 19, which is an hour behind us I think. He can relay our distress call to Anchorage, and let them know we're gonna need help. We can do this guys if we stay calm and keep our heads about us. Frank, get on the throttles and increase thrust to my left engines when I tell you, OK?" Hanson delivered his orders in a collected fashion, knowing that panic would only serve to get them all killed. "Mike… when I feel like I'm exerting myself too much, you're gonna need to take over on my controls to give me a bit of a rest, OK?"
"Got it!" Fagan responded gamely.
"Captain, are you sure about this engine thing? If your rudder fully breaks… increasing thrust on one side of you will cause us to lose total control…" Geib cautioned.
"I know, Frank… but what choice do we have? We HAVE to turn this flight around and get it on the ground as soon as possible. We're too far from Tokyo, and even though we're two hours from Anchorage, it's our only hope. We've gotta try something, after all." Captain Hanson pointed out.
Fagan got on the radio and attempted to contact Northwest Flight 19 while Geib rolled forward and pushed his tires onto the throttle levers. "OK… increase thrust… now!" Hanson ordered, and Geib pushed the left levers forward, raising the power on the left two engines as the big 747 began to turn to the right. "It's working! I'm turning! I'm turning!" Hanson exclaimed happily as they began to come about.
"I've got Northwest 19, sir! They said they'll relay our message on to Anchorage!" Fagan declared happily.
"OK… good… I'm gonna try and hold us steady… man this hurts!" Hanson complained, struggling to keep his ailerons and upper rudder hard over. "We need to tell the passengers what's going on… I mean no need to panic them, but they need to know we're diverting to Anchorage."
"I-I can handle that!" Geib stammered. "Yeah! I'll go take care of it after your turn is completed."
"Good… OK… and we're coming around… ease back on the throttles for engines one and two, Frank." Geib pulled the levers back until they were about level with the ones on the right, and Hanson's turn slowed and then stopped altogether. "OK great… go tell the passengers… tell them everything's going to be OK… and then come back up here. I'm gonna need you to help me turn again once we start our approach."
"Got it, captain! I'll be right back!" Geib stated, and reversed his way out of the cockpit to go make the announcement to the passengers. As for Fagan, all he could do was watch, mystified, as Hanson's control sticks shook violently from the effort it was taking to keep the ailerons hard over.
"Are you… OK, captain?" Fagan asked, staring at the vibrating control sticks as if mesmerized.
"Yeah! But… ugh! It's an effort, that's for sure! I think I should try descending… get into thicker air to create more lift… holding it steady at 35,000 feet is just… it's a huge strain."
"Just… be careful, captain. We don't know if your tail's about to break off… if it's damaged… if it lost hydraulic control… we just don't know. I mean it could break off if we stress it too much." Fagan warned.
"I know that! I'm gonna take it down to 28,000 feet so we can get some more lift on my wings, though! I really can't do this for another ten minutes, Mike! I can't!" Hanson cried, and Fagan nodded.
"OK… just take it slow… I'll take over if you need it." The first officer offered.
"Not yet… I got this… but thanks… OK… let's… try this…" Hanson pushed his control stick forward, starting to gradually descend through the blue skies. Fagan nervously watched as the altimeter began counting down, the numbers rolling before his eyes as Hanson got lower… and lower… and lower… and finally leveled off at 28,000 feet. No catastrophic failure… no loud noises… no nothing. They were still flying. Sighing heavily, Fagan closed his eyes briefly.
"How is it, captain?" he asked now.
"Better… I think I can go for longer… I'll let you know when I need a break, OK?"
"You got it… I'm right here… I'll take over the second you need it."
Back in the cabin, Geib was finishing up his announcement. "There's no cause for alarm. We're diverting to Anchorage to get this problem taken care of. As of right now, we're in control of the flight, so just relax… you're not in immediate danger." The SUV could see the look of panic in the passengers' eyes though. Some couples huddled closer together in their seats, and others exchanged worried glances. Geib wished he could say more, but he had no idea what was going on with the tail. It wasn't catastrophic… at least not yet. He clearly remembered a China Airlines plane suffering a complete failure of its tail, which had broken off in flight, causing the entire aircraft to disintegrate in the mid-air… there had been no survivors. It was best to just not think about this, and push it from his mind. He forced it out like a hammer ripping out a nail. He just hoped they would all be OK… there were 403 vehicles aboard all told… that was an extremely high number to lose in just one aircraft… the worst air disaster in history had occurred at Tenerife when two 747s had collided with each other on the runway… 583 died in that incident. On this flight alone there was more than half that number heading to Japan… they had to save these passengers… they just had to!
Back at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, Dusty was performing dives over a building that was designed to be set on fire in order to train air attack units in helping to combat blazes on the ground. Racing downward towards the rising smoke and the dancing flames, Dusty narrowed his eyes, trying to hit the altitude just right.
"Watch your speed, champ!" he could hear Blade calling in his radio. "Too fast and you're gonna overshoot your target! Remember, this is a building burning… not an entire forest! Throttle back!"
"Right!" Dusty backed off the throttle a bit, pulling his nose up to level off and zoom over the building before dumping his payload and letting the water fall in a highly concentrated dose down towards the fire.
"There we go! Looking good, champ!" Blade praised as Dusty was just about right on the mark. He'd come in slightly too fast, but he hadn't been too far off target. "Now remember to WATCH your airspace! Most airports will shut down in the event of a fire, but don't take any foolish chances! Make sure you're clear as you come out of your dive!"
"Got it!" Dusty scanned from right to left to make sure he wasn't going to collide with anyone. Just then, the airport's PA system buzzed in his ear.
"Attention Anchorage Airport… we have a 747 heavy that's declared an emergency and is diverting to us! All emergency vehicles please standby!"
"A 747? Hey Blade! Did you hear that?" Dusty called down to him.
"Sure did!" was the reply.
"Hey tower! That 747 heavy that's in trouble… how many passengers is it carrying? Where is it? What's wrong?" Dusty radioed.
"Tower reads you, Crophopper 7. Northwest Airlines Flight 85 is roughly 500 miles northwest of here, carrying 403 vehicles aboard, reporting rudder problems and inability to steer. They're about 2 hours away." The tower responded.
"They might need some help! Blade, what do you think?" Dusty asked, flying back over the airport but keeping his altitude low to avoid incoming and outgoing flights.
Blade was inwardly pleased to hear Dusty offering to help those he didn't even know, but knew the SEAT would have to handle this one alone. "I don't have the range to make that, champ. This one's all you! Get out there and lead 'em in! See what kind of damage they got! But stay within your range! You won't be able to refuel out there!"
"Will do! By the time I meet them, they should probably only be about 300 miles out!" Dusty had a range of 800 miles on a full tank, so reaching the troubled flight should be no problem for him.
"I'll meet you when you're getting close! Since they'll be coming in from the north, they're gonna need help clearing that mountain range! Lead 'em over the mountains to the airport! Let us know what damage they got!" Blade suggested.
"Copy!" Dusty stated as he landed on one of the side tarmacs, and drove himself up to the refueling station. "Fill me up! I need to get out there, fast!"
The fuel was pushed into his tank as rapidly as it could go, Dusty waiting impatiently for the refueling to be complete before he heard the shutoff terminate the process with a thump and he knew he was good to go. Throttling up with a roar, he detached from the fuel probe and taxied out to the runway. "Tower! Can you clear me for takeoff?" Dusty radioed.
"Wait for an incoming Japan Airlines flight, Crophopper 7! Once it lands, you'll be cleared for takeoff on Runway Seven Right!" was the tower's response.
"Seven Right, copy!" Dusty pushed himself towards the correct runway, scanning for the big incoming flight as it touched down with a screech of its brakes and great whooshing from its reverse thrusters kicking in. After the JAL flight safely passed him, Dusty increased speed and tore down the runway, lifting off with no issues as he radioed in to the tower once more. "Tower, can you give me their exact position? I'll vector out there and bring them in!"
"Copy, Crophopper 7. Last known position of Northwest 85 was…" Relaying the coordinates to the SEAT, Dusty picked them up and narrowed his eyes as he increased speed, determined to reach that flight and do what he could.
"Good luck, champ! See you when you get closer!" came Blade's words through his radio, and Dusty intently focused on the task at hand as he began vectoring himself out to towards Northwest 85.
Out over the Bering Sea, Captain Hanson was continuing to struggle to make his way to Anchorage. He'd been apprised by the airport once he'd gotten within radio range that a small aircraft was being dispatched to asses the damage and help guide them back in. Hanson was taking a break, resting his strained innards as Fagan was battling with the controls to keep the jet level. They switched off every 20 minutes, with first Hanson resting then Fagan taking a break to stretch and limber up before going back at it. They were now about an hour from the airport, having covered good distance since the problem was first discovered. So far there had been no further deterioration of control, but it was a battle to keep Hanson flying level, that was for sure.
The good news was that they hadn't suffered a complete loss of hydraulics. There had been only one example of a successful landing without hydraulics in the history of aviation, and every other landing attempt under such conditions had ended with deaths. "Northwest 85!" Their radio rang with the exuberant and determined voice of a newcomer. "This is Dusty Crophopper, the air racer! I see you dead ahead! I'm coming from Anchorage to lead you back in! I'm gonna make a circle to see what kind of damage you got, and then I'll stay with you all the way to the airport!"
Hanson narrowed his eyes, and tried to spot the small plane racing towards him. A flash of red suddenly gave him away, and Hanson smiled to himself. "Glad to see ya, Crophopper! We've been holding our own so far, but we need to know how bad the rudder is. We've been forced to use the ailerons and partial rudder control to keep me flying. Help is appreciated!"
"I'm on it!" Dusty zoomed by them and then slowed as he executed his circle, eyes sweeping over the rear of the 747 to check out what was going on back there. Immediately, he could discern an aberration in the jumbo jet's rudder. The lower rudder was shoved out to the left, but the upper rudder was over to the right. "It looks like your lower rudder is jammed!" Dusty radioed to the crew. "You can't move it at all, right?"
"Negative! We've been unable to have any impact on it thus far. Anything else?"
"I think that's it!" Dusty responded. "I can't see any signs of physical damage aside from your rudder being out of whack. If you let go of the controls, the plane will roll! I also see vibrations on the fuselage… you guys must be really struggling to hold the flight together!"
"Yeah." Was Hanson's reply. "We've been fighting this the whole way."
"All right. Well I'll stay with you and lead you over the mountains to Anchorage! Just hang on! You're only about an hour away! You guys can make it!" Dusty encouraged.
The racer turned firefighter zoomed out in front of the 747 as they continued on their way to Anchorage. A half hour later, Hanson was back in control, but the control stick was shaking even more violently by this point. "What do you think, Mike?"
Fagan stared at the shaking column and looked out the window. They had a half hour to go before the airport. "I think… we should lower our altitude and configure for landing. I mean… we'd best do that now in the air… if any problems are gonna happen… may as well have them happen high up as opposed to our final approach."
"Right! OK… I'll bring it down to 14,000 and see what happens!" Hanson responded. 14,000 was a nice safe altitude to try things at. It would give Hanson enough room to maneuver in case another emergency developed.
"Permission to descend to 14,000 feet over Cook Inlet, Northwest 85." Fagan radioed in to Anchorage.
"Uh that's a negative… lots of traffic over Cook." Came the tower's response.
"Um… could you maybe clear the traffic?" Dusty suggested. "This is an emergency, and this is the only course of action they have! They should get priority here!"
After a moment's hesitation, the tower radioed back. "That's an affirmative. We'll get everyone else out of your way."
Hanson began his slow descent, struggling to hold on and not let the exertions overpower him. He knew one small slip of his rudder could spell disaster. "OK! Flaps 5!" he ordered, and second Captain Geib reached forward to extend the flaps. The tension was mounting as Hanson knew each new thing they tried only increased the risk of something breaking. "Gear down!" he ordered now, and Fagan reached out to obey, dropping the level to lower Hanson's landing gear. This would increase drag and slow them down, but so far, everything seemed OK. However, the lower they got, and the slower they went, the more the plane started shaking with the increased drag upon the hull. "Agh!" Hanson yelled out, the strain doubling on him now to keep himself level. "Mike! I'm gonna need ya to… take over! Are you ready?" Hanson asked with a sprained voice.
"I'm ready…" Fagan responded, staring at the control stick and taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He reached out, pressing his tire down onto the rudder pedal, and used his other wheel to take hold of the control stick. "Let go, sir!"
Hanson sighed as he relaxed, relieved the pressure could be lifted for a time.
"Hey! Have you thought about adding 20 knots to your approach speed?" Dusty radioed in, noticing how badly the jet was shaking behind him and wanting to help them out.
"No! We hadn't thought of that! Let's try it!" Hanson responded. He increased his speed by 20 knots, throttling up slightly as Dusty set the pace. Immediately, the vibrations lessened, and the strain on Fagan began to ease up. "Great suggestion, Crophopper! It's working! OK! Prepare the cabin for a crash landing! Let the passengers know they'll need to brace for impact, and let's start configuring ourselves for this approach. I do NOT… no correct that. We CANNOT do a missed approach! We HAVE to do this in one try!" the captain urged gallantly. "Let's use the engines to steer… the lower we get the more impossible it's going to be to hang on to the controls. One and two up! Three and four, down!"
Geib pushed forward on the left throttle whilst pulling the right one back now as the mountains came into view. "You guys got it?" Dusty asked, beginning to descend now to lead them over the mountains. He could suddenly see Blade appear before him, hovering and waiting for him as the big jumbo jet started its final descent. "Blade! They've only got one shot at this! Their rudder is jammed! No indication of what caused it! If they miss their approach they won't be able to go around again!"
"Copy that Dusty, loud and clear! Anchorage has emergency vehicles standing by! How's your tank?" Blade asked.
"About 50% capacity! I can make one run if there's a fire!"
"Let's just hope there isn't! If needs be, I can use my hoist to get passengers to safety! Bring 'em in, champ! Let's finish this!"
On the ground, as the jumbo jet was growing in size on the horizon, emergency vehicles were rolling now, lights flashing, sirens wailing, and tires screeching as they scrambled out of their hangers and headed for the runway that Hanson was lining up for. "Captain Hanson! I'm gonna stay airborne in case you guys need a firefighter overhead! I'll approach the runway but pull off at the last minute, OK? Just take it slow!" Dusty called back to the big jet.
"Copy that, Crophopper. A thousand dollars for a rearview mirror right now." Hanson joked, trying to lighten the mood on the flight deck. He couldn't see the state his tail was in, but it wasn't going to stop him now. This was the most dangerous landing he'd ever attempted in his life. If his rudder broke on descent, the increased thrust to the left engines would cause him to spin uncontrollably, and would most likely result in a disastrous crash. "So uh… what do you think, Crophopper? Can we do it?"
"I think you need to go for it! Remember though, on landing, your rudder's attached to your nose gear! Whatever direction it's pointing, your nose gear's gonna go that way too!" Dusty reminded them.
"And when that happens, Mike you take the column and brakes, I'll take the tiller! We're coming in fast! Over 180 mph! Are the passengers braced?" Hanson asked the purser.
"Yes captain." Was her response over the intercom. All the cars were hunkered down, wishing, praying, and hoping that nothing tragic would occur and that today would not be the last day of their lives. Hanson focused intently… if ever there was a time he needed to fly perfectly… this was it. He was back in control from Fagan now, muscling himself level and trying to ignore the violent shaking to line himself up for the runway.
"Northwest 85, cleared to land." Came the calm voice of Anchorage's tower controller. Hanson could see the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles below him as the runway got closer… and closer… and closer… "Emergency equipment is standing by."
"Roger! Cleared to land!" Fagan responded.
Dusty zoomed over the fire trucks, buzzing their tops as he pulled out of his descent and began to climb. "Go for it guys!" he urged, pulling up to give them room.
Hanson dipped lower and lower… mere inches from the runway's surface now. "Here we go!" he exclaimed. "Touchdown in five! Prepare for impact!" He called to the stewardess, who ordered the passengers to brace. Then the wheels hit five seconds later, jarring everyone as the tires screeched and skid and Hanson struggled to keep himself on the runway.
"Got it?" Fagan asked, applying the brakes and holding the control stick.
"I got it!" Hanson replied, focusing solely on his front wheels now with the tiller. He spun the tiller to keep his nose gear straight. Behind them, the fire trucks and emergency vehicles tore after the plane, speeding down the runway to keep up, their lights creating an eerie backdrop as the plane slowed… and slowed… and slowed. "We got it!" Hanson exclaimed happily, sensing he was now in complete control. The crew let out a collective sigh as they slowed to a crawl, and then to a halt. "Good job Mike! Good job guys!" Hanson praised. "So what do we do for an encore?" the big jet joked, eliciting a nervous chuckle from everyone on the flight deck.
"Not that!" Fagan replied, breaking out into happy sobs here.
"YES!" Dusty yelled triumphantly, ecstatic at the result. He performed a happy flip, letting his water tank go in an impressive display of celebration as he gave out a loud "WHOOOO!" his water trail spraying out behind him.
Blade chuckled to himself, and smiled at Dusty's display. The passengers erupted in cheers, whooping and hollering and honking in delight. The plane was safe, and they had made it!
"Hey Crophopper! Thanks for talking us down! You kept us cool up there!" Hanson praised the SEAT.
"Hey… no problem!" Dusty responded happily, the widest of smiles on his faces. "I'm a firefighter! Keeping folks cool is what I do!"
"Hell of a job, champ! I'm proud of ya!" Blade stated, flying next to him now as Dusty let out a massive exhale. "You continue to impress me every day!"
"Thanks, Blade! Means a lot! Now let's get on the ground and see if anyone needs any medical attention!"
"Copy that! Let's go!"
Northwest Airlines Flight 85 had made it safely to the ground. All 404 vehicles survived. There were no fatalities. But now the NTSB would need to step in and investigate just what had caused Captain Hanson's lower rudder to fail, and figure out what could be done to prevent such an occurrence from ever happening again.