A cleaned up version of something I've been working on for months now. In all honesty, I'm kind of testing the waters with this one. It's not really polished, and I probably won't have the time to continue it. But we'll see.

August 3, 2015, 10:24 AM. United Airlines Flight 178 takes off from Los Angeles International Airport, a minute ahead of schedule. The Boeing 777-200 is destined for George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, Texas, and is scheduled to arrive in just over three hours. It never reaches its destination.

Flying over the border between Texas and New Mexico, the aircraft suddenly disappears from radar. All attempts by controllers to make contact with the plane fail. The United States Air Force scrambles fighters and AWACS aircraft, but cannot find the missing plane. Several hours later, they reach the point where the plane would have run out of fuel. Searchers comb two states and northern Mexico for the crash site, but none is ever found.

United 178 had disappeared with no explanation. On board were 248 passengers, two pilots, and six cabin crew. This is their story.

A teenaged boy dressed in bright colours sat beside a young woman dressed conservatively in a button-up shirt and slacks. In fact, John Cardell and Lily Cardell were twins. Though biologically non-identical, they had very similar features. Both had light brown hair, soft faces, and blue eyes. They had been lucky to score a pair of seats near the front of the premium economy class with extra legroom. John had the outboard seat, although all he could really see was wing, he still pressed his face to the plastic.

"Isn't it exciting?" he asked excitedly.

"It's an airplane," Lily replied in a bored tone. Her attention was largely focused on her Nexus tablet, or rather the university information displayed on it. Although she had already chosen and been accepted to the University of British Columbia, she still wanted to learn as much as she could about the institution.

"No, not that," John leaned back and waved excitedly. "RTX! We're gonna get to do so much awesome stuff."

"Yes, John, I am excited."

He waved his arms again. "I know you're bummed that that guy's gone, but you'll get to see, uh, who are those ladies that dressed up as that team last year?"

"Lindsay, Kara, Arryn, and Barb," she replied. She actually was excited to see them and hopefully meet them, but forced herself to remain composed. "As Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long."

"See? You're excited to meet them!"

She shook her head. "They'll be very busy with legions of fans. I seriously doubt I'll get to meet them."

"Sheesh, you're such a killjoy," John whined, a tinge of sadness entering his cheerful voice. "You weren't always like this, Lils."

"We all have to grow up, John," she said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna put it off as long as I can," John replied before going back to watching the wing. "Hey, a birdie- wait, no nevermind."

Like the Cardell twins, Orville Perry was also heading to RTX. Though he came from London, England, going through LAX had been the cheapest option for him. He was seated by the exit behind the wing. The seats to either side of him were empty, with only two other people in the same row. There was no passenger behind him, either, so he had his seat reclined all the way.

Although it did get monotonous, he enjoyed flying. There was just something strange about hurtling through the air at high speed in an immensely complex and graceful machine. Still, at this point, he was bored. He peered over his magazine at a raven-haired teenager coming down the aisle toward him. She was quite pretty, he mentally remarked.

The girl in question was Janet Garcia, who really was from LA. Unlike the other three, RTX was not her destination. She was heading to visit her boyfriend in Florida, changing flights in Houston. She had just used the washroom and was headed back to her seat near the back of the plane.

Suddenly, the entire aircraft shuddered, a single loud bang reverberating through the cabin. The lights in the cabin flickered before dying completely, replaced by much dimmer emergency lighting.

Janet immediately plopped down in the seat beside Orville, clipping in the seat belt and pulling it as tight as it would go.

"I hope you don't mind," she said to the young man beside her, who did not respond. Orville had tossed down his magazine and was now holding onto his seat, his knuckles going white. He knew that flying was generally safe, but it seemed that they had the worst luck and ended up in the small fraction of flights that went wrong.

She tried again. Unlike Orville, she did not realize the potential gravity of the situation, at least not yet. "I'm Janet. Janet Garcia. I'm going from LA to Houston, well, I was."

"Orville Perry," he managed to squeak out, trying to hide the fact that he was now absolutely terrified. "London, England. LAX. Houston. Austin. RTX."

Twelve rows ahead, Lily was trying to calm her brother down. Currently, John Cardell was loudly exclaiming, "Oh my god, this is just like Mayday! That's one of the shows I never wanted to be on! Do you think we'll be the ones who-"

"John!" she shouted, shaking her brother's shoulders.

He stopped and blinked. "Yeah Lily?"

"Calm down. I'm sure it's nothing. The pilots have it all under control." Even though she was panicking on the inside, Lily forced herself to go back to reading her tablet, distracting herself with the information. They had women's basketball. That was not terribly interesting.

The flight crew felt the same jolt and heard the same bang that the passengers did. For them, though, it was immediately accompanied with a loud alarm. A series of errors appeared on the engine-indicating and crew-alerting system (EICAS) display. As he pulled down and latched his harness, the first officer asked, "What the hell- captain, both engines are rolling back!"

"My airplane," Captain Robert Banes said as calmly as he could. He grabbed the control yoke with his left hand, using his right to reach forward and pull the autopilot disconnect bar down. The Boeing 777 was fly-by-wire, requiring electrical and hydraulic power to control. With no action taken by the crew, a small propeller unit, called a Ram Air Turbine, deployed from the bottom of the aircraft, providing minimal hydraulics and electrical power. It was enough to fly and not much else.

"Your airplane," First Officer Michael Langdon acknowledged. As he did so, the LCD displays in front of him flickered and died along with most of the lights. The captain's multi-function displays stayed on, powered by backup batteries.

"Declare an emergency," the captain ordered. He pulled both throttles back to idle before pushing in the master warning button, shutting off the alarm.

"Mayday mayday mayday, United one-seven-eight heavy, we have lost both engines. Declaring an emergency." There was no response. "Maybe we're too far away."

The captain noted that and carried on. "Get the QRH. Double engine failure."

The first officer reached into a pocket beside him and withdrew a small, thin book. He flipped through until finding the procedure for a double engine failure. He recited the procedure as he carried it out. "Fuel control switch cut off. Confirm ram air turbine deployed, APU gen on, APU bleed auto, L and R engine bleed off, APU to start."

"Descend to twenty thousand, maintain two six zero knots and attempt restart," he added after a pause. "Bob, I don't know if that's a good idea. We don't know what those bangs were."

There had, in fact, been only one bang. Because they had lost both engines, they already had catastrophic engine failure in mind, and mistook the single bang for two.

The captain weighed his options. On one hand, even with an appropriate airport to divert to, an engines-out landing was dangerous. There was a reason standard procedure was to restart immediately. On the other hand, if they had serious engine damage, trying to restart the engines could cause a fire or an explosion. Standard procedure didn't account for a loud banging.

"APU is up," the first officer declared. Thirty seconds after the cockpit had gone dark, it lit up again. The lights came back along with the multi-function displays on his side. He noticed that the EICAS display was displaying a long list of error messages, a few of which immediately disappeared.

"How are our engines, Mike?" the captain asked. He checked his displays. Descending through 30,000 feet, speed a little high. He pulled back gently on the yoke. With the main hydraulics now pressurized by electric pumps, the plane responded much better to his control inputs.

The first officer checked the EICAS display, which displayed several errors. "Low oil pressure, EGT is cold. They're still spinning, at least."

"Where's the closest airport?"

"Closest seems to be Midland," the first officer said. "Odd, the INS is still working but the GPS is dead."

"Call Midland, declare and emergency and request approach," the captain ordered, deferring his decision. He went through the numbers in his head, estimating how long they had. At 29000 feet with 280 knots indicated... say about 50 miles.

"On it," the copilot replied. "Midland center, United one-seven-eight heavy, mayday mayday mayday, we have lost both engines, requesting an approach vector for emergency landing."

He repeated. "Midland center, United one-seven-eight heavy, mayday mayday mayday, we have lost both engines. Please respond."

"What the hell?"

"Squawk 7700. Try calling on the emergency frequency."

The first officer switched the transponder to 7700, the ICAO emergency code, before reaching forward and switching the radio frequency to 121.5MHz. "United one-seven-eight heavy, mayday mayday mayday, we have lost both engines, please respond."

An eerie silence had fallen over the cabin, relenting slightly when the lights came back on. They could hear the whine of a running engine, but it was much quieter and seemed to be coming from the back of the plane.

"Is that the engines?" Janet asked quietly. "Are the engines back on?"

Orville listened to it for a moment. He was a bit of an aviation enthusiast, fat lot of good that did in a real emergency. He forced himself to remain calm and listen. "No, it's the APU."

"The what?"

"The auxiliary power unit," Orville explained mechanically. "It's used on the ground to provide power and air conditioning. Or... in the event of a double engine failure."

"Why aren't we falling out of the sky?" Janet asked. "I mean, if the engines are gone-"

"It's a plane, not a brick," he replied. "It'll glide for a while. Either they get the engines started up again or we find a runway to land on..."

He checked his phone, cringed, then suddenly pulled out a pen and ripped a page out of the inflight magazine. "I'm... I'm going to write a letter... in case we don't make it. I know it's stupid... but maybe you should too."

"I thought you just said we weren't going to die?"

"That's not what I said," Orville replied, now completely focused on his note.

"Tell me your story," Janet said suddenly. There was no response, so she started rambling, "Okay, fine, I'll go first. I'm Janet Garcia. I was born in Sacramento, January 15, 1996, but I grew up in LA-"

"Why were you headed to Texas?" the Brit suddenly asked.

"On my way to Florida," she replied, passing him a picture of herself and a man with a rugged face, a few days worth of stubble, and a winning smile. They were standing in front of some balcony or guardrail, with the Golden Gate Bridge visible in the background. "That's from our trip to San Francisco a year ago. Then he got a job in Miami, and I was still finishing up school in LA, but I'm done now. We're going to move in together in September."

"You're a very lucky woman," Orville complimented before handing her the picture back. "And he's a very lucky man."

"Hopefully." She frowned before realizing something. "Your accent-"

"I'm from London. England," he repeated. "I told you, didn't I? Did I?"

"I didn't really catch it the first time," Janet admitted. "Why were you going to Texas?"

"I was heading to RTX. I want to see the RvB panel in particular, and maybe RWBY, although I'm still a bit miffed that I won't get to meet Monty-"

"What's that?"

"Monty?"

"No, RTX."

"What's RTX?" he replied rhetorically. "Well, it's... God, I can't believe I'm going to spend the last minutes of my life explaining it, but here goes..."

"United one-seven-eight, Vale control. Please repeat."

The flight crew shared a look, but responded anyway. "United one-seven-eight heavy, mayday mayday mayday, we have lost both engines. We are declaring an emergency."

"Where's Vale?" the captain asked, briefly confused. "Something's off. Check the charts, Mike, I'll answer."

He keyed his microphone. "Vale, United one seven eight heavy, both engines have failed with possible damage. Descending through flight level two one zero, speed three one zero indicated. Uh...we request your coordinates, Vale."

"Lat four point one five two, long eleven point zero seven seven," the controller replied after a pause.

Mike scrunched his face up in confusion. "Can't be right. That's in the middle of Africa. Nah, can't be."

The Captain didn't hear him, but also felt that the coordinates were off. "Vale, repeat coordinates."

"Lat four point one five two, long eleven point zero seven seven," the controller replied after a pause.

The first officer looked at the map again and shrugged. "They're not on here. Nowhere close. Maybe it's a ham operator or a communications station."

"Uh, Vale, confirm you are an air traffic control."

"This is Vale ATC," the controller confirmed.

"Small airport, maybe?" Mike said. "Mike, we need to-"

"United one seven eight, how many souls are onboard?"

"There are three hundred and one on board this airliner," the captain replied.

"You're an airliner?" the controller sounded surprised. "Please state type."

"We are a Boeing seven seven seven dash two hundred," he told the controller. "Vale, request you relay to Midland that we have declared an emergency and request an approach vector. We intend to perform an engines-out landing."

"Negative, one seven eight. We, uh, we don't know what Midland is. We are the only major airport in the area."

"What's your longest runway?"

"Say again, one seven eight. I thought you just asked for a runway."

"Is this real or is it some idiot jerking us around?"

"Vale, we are a commercial airliner in a real emergency. Impersonating air traffic control is a federal felony. Both engines have failed and we need to land immediately. Request you relay our emergency to Midland."

"Fifteen thousand feet."

"Vale, we intend to attempt an engine restart." Irritation was creeping into Captain Banes's voice. "If we cannot relight and sustain at least one engine, we will attempt to land at Midland, regardless of radio contact. United one seven eight, out."

"Look, we're as confused as you are. Understand you are a civilian airliner in an emergency situation. Recommend you vector ninety two degrees right for Beacon. It's about thirty miles from your current position."

"There's nothing there," Mike said, consulting the charts again.

"We're wasting time," the captain concluded. He remembered the story of Eastern Air Lines Flight 401, where the crew had become distracted by a broken landing gear light and failed to notice their autopilot had disengaged, crashing into the Everglades and killing over a hundred people. "Okay, there was a bang, then the engines shut down. What would do that?"

"Could be a surge that the FADEC shut down the engines to clear."

"It should have given us a warning message," the captain said. "And in both engines? Not very likely."

"We still have plenty of fuel, so it's not fuel starvation," the first officer added, switching his multi-function display to show the fuel system. "Could be a fuel system problem, but that looks good too."

The captain checked the EICAS display again. "No fuel system messages."

"Okay, let's let the computer decide." He took a deep breath. "Mike, autostart, left engine."

"Thrust lever... idle. Fuel control... run. Autostart... on. Start/ignition to start."

Captain Banes focused on keeping the plane flying, ready to compensate for the asymmetric thrust with the rudder. First Officer Langdon focused on the EICAS display. Slowly but surely, the EGT rose, and along with it N1 and N2. Several of the warnings disappeared. "Left engine is good."

"I'm throttling up." The captain pushed the lever slowly forward. The engine responded quickly, rising to 50% N1 and staying there. With his feet, he pushed the rudder left to compensate for the asymmetric thrust. A sense of relief went through the cockpit. More relaxed, he added, "Okay, left engine looks good. Start the right engine."

The odd mixture of harsh whine and deep rumble of an operating turbofan engine was instantly reassuring to the passengers in the cabin.

"Hey, Lily, they got one started!" John exclaimed.

"Yes," she replied, neutral. By this point she had put away her tablet and was busying her mind thinking about what she would be learning in first-year engineering.

"Seriously, Lils? We're like, about to almost about to die, and you're barely saying anything!"

"John, we are not about to die. Not even close," she snapped back, a hard edge to her voice. She forced herself to have more confidence than she had, lest she start believing that things were going to turn out badly. "I told you the pilots have it under control. They're trained for this. They've got it under control."

"But we only have one engine. That's still kinda bad," he said. "What if it goes out or explodes or something?"

"This is an airliner. Airliners can fly on one engine, otherwise they wouldn't be-" She was interrupted by the second engine starting up and spooling up to speed. "And there goes the other one. See, John? Nothing to worry about."

"It could still blow up."

"It's not going to blow up." She leaned over and gave her brother a half-hug. "You get so excited sometimes. It's all good."

"Yeah, I guess-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," a deep, confident voice told them. "We did lose our engines briefly, but we were able to start them again with no problems. As a precautionary measure, we will be landing early at Midland International Airport."

"Midland tower, United one three seven heavy in the blind. We intend to descend to ten thousand feet, circle for five minutes, and then land on any open runway. If you are receiving this message, please acknowledge in any means possible."

He waited. "Still no response."

"Alright. I'm taking it down to 10000 feet," the captain announced. He reached forward and set the autopilot to descend to 10000 feet. Slowly but surely, the big airliner descended through the clouds.

"Maybe our radios are dead," he theorized. "Squawk seven-six-zero-zero."

"Alright, I'm going to try VHF C," the copilot announced, switching radios and frequencies. "Midland tower, United one three seven heavy. Please respond."

He waited, then shook his head. "Try the HF?"

"Try it."

"Okay." The first officer repeated his call six times. He tried the aviation 3023.5 kHz and 5680 kHz frequencies and the 2182 kHz maritime distress frequency on both radios. "Nothing."

"SATCOM?"

"Dead as a doornail."

"Do you have cellular service?" the captain asked. For various reasons, using cellphones on an airplane was not allowed, but they were out of options. Having an unapproved means of communication with the ground was safer than having none at all.

The first officer pulled his phone, a two-year-old model, out of his flight bag, and turned off airplane mode. He waited, but it refused to pick up any signal. "Nope."

"Okay," the captain acknowledged. "Let's see if anyone else on the plane has signal."

"Hey, look, it's Forever Fall," John told his sister, motioning out the window. His previous doubts were replaced with excitement. "Lily, look, seriously, we're over a red forest. Just like in that RWBY thing you like."

Lily sighed, leaned over, and took a look. From her position, all she could see was a sliver of red. From their altitude, it was difficult to make out anything. She shook her head. "We're in Texas. It's probably red sandstone or some kind of holding pond."

"Aww," John complained. "I thought you'd be excited."

I'll be excited when we're back on the ground. Lily was more worried about what the bang had been and if the plane was still in danger of falling out of the sky. Hopefully, they would land soon, and it would all be over. She didn't share this with her easily excitable brother. He would go nuts again. She had enough trouble controlling herself. Both of them? Impossible.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a flight attendant tapping her on the shoulder. She asked, "Can you try your cellphone and see if it has signal?"

"I thought we're not supposed to do that?" she replied as she pulled out her phone and turned it on. "Sorry, I've got nothing. John?"

"Nope."

"Well, thanks anyway," the flight attendant said, standing to leave.

Lily stopped her. "Why are we trying to use our phones?"

"We're having some trouble contacting our preferred airport," she told them with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We'll be landed by the end of the hour."

"Nobody can get a signal," the flight attendant reported. "Not on any of the networks. One of the passengers has a satphone, but it didn't work. He said that's not surprising."

"No, they tend not to work too well at speed," Captain Banes replied. "Alright, thanks, Nancy."

"Bob, I can't see Midland," Mike told the captain, motioning out the window.

He looked up from his instruments, leaning forward over the glare shield. His eyes widened when he saw the bright red forest below. It only confirmed his suspicions that they were completely lost. "No, it doesn't look like Midland at all. Mike, check the navigation."

"GPS is still out, but the... shit, VOR is out, too," the first officer realized. Like the captain, he had been wondering how they got lost. Modern airliners are equipped with many navigation systems, any one of which can guide the plane to its destination safely. "We've been flying on INS. It says it's working, but... maybe it got fucked up somehow."

"It doesn't make any sense. That doesn't look like Texas at all- we can't be that far off course. We haven't been flying that long." The captain sighed. "What about the ADF?"

"We're not picking up any of stations," he replied. "It seems to be working, I'm just not picking up any navigation stations."

"TCAS? Is there anyone else nearby?"

"No, the skies are clear," the first officer replied with a hint of surprise.

"Maybe they're not there," the captain half-joked. "I'm going to call Vale again, ask them what the hell is going on."

"Vale, this is United one-seven-eight heavy. Uh, where exactly are we? We should be over Midland, but... it's not there."

The response was weaker this time. The pilots realized this must mean they were flying away from Vale, wherever that was. "You're over... lands?"

"Vale, we are not over Midland. I see a bright red forest below us."

"Not Midland, Grimmlands."

"Grimmlands?" The captain keyed the microphone. "Vale, we do not know what Grimmlands is."

"You are over dangerous, hostile territory. Recommend you return to Vale airspace immediately." There was a pause. "You have hostile Nevermores inbound."

"Did he just say Nevermore? Quoth the raven, never more?"

The captain was more sanguine than his copilot. "Uh, Vale, are you saying- confirm incoming hostiles?"

"United affirmative. Recommend you climb to maximum altitude, increase speed, and divert to Vale, right one sixty four."

"Do we listen?"

"Something's wrong. Let's just do what he says, get back on the ground, and figure it out." Banes said, making a quick executive decision. "Vale, United one-seven eight heavy, acknowledge. Request clearance to climb to flight level four-one-zero, turn right to heading one-six-four."

"Get as high as you can as fast as you can," the controller replied frantically. "You have clearance, just go."

"Copy that, Vale. Climbing to flight level four one zero. We will turn when we have reached altitude." The Captain pushed the throttles forward and pulled back on the control yoke. He felt the plane respond with raw power and begin to climb. At maximum power, the 777 could climb rapidly, reaching maximum altitude in a few minutes. It was inefficient and not standard procedure, but that was the last thought on their minds.

"What the hell?" Orville exclaimed. The engines suddenly went from the relatively quiet hum of cruising to a deep throaty roar associated with takeoffs. The aircraft tilted backwards and shot upwards, both motions felt by Orville and the other passengers onboard. "We're climbing bloody fast!"

"Why?" Janet moaned as the force pushed back into her seat.

"I don't know," he replied. "Must be a bloody awful storm!"

"A storm?"

"Yeah, if there's a storm, you climb above it."

"This violently?"

"That's why I said it's a bloody awful-"

He was interrupted by an announcement from the cockpit. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will be climbing to forty-one thousand feet and maintaining maximum speed for an indefinite period of time. Rest assured that it is entirely safe, if a bit uncomfortable, and that it is only a precautionary measure."

"What the bloody fuck?"

"It's not air pirates, is it?" Janet half joked.

"No, there's no such thing as an air pirate," Orville replied, shaking his head.

"But there are air terrorists," Janet added before he could.

He nodded. "Yep. What do you do if there's some wanker down there with an anti-air missile?"

"Climb and accelerate?" Janet half-asked. Her eyes widened. "We're not being shot at, are we?"

"No, he said it's precautionary. That means there's a potential we will be shot at."

She rolled her eyes. "Like that's supposed to make me feel better."

"Join the club."

"Vale, we are at flight level four-one-zero, heading one-six-four for Vale."

The controller sounded slightly surprised. "United, we're reading your altitude at over thirty thousand feet and speed as approximately five hundred knots. Please confirm."

"Confirm altitude four one thousand feet, airspeed four seven five indicated," Captain Banes replied. Even though he had control of his airplane, he was still very tense. The thought of hostile aircraft bothered the hell out of him. He knew how to deal with those in a Strike Eagle- the fighter he'd flown over Iraq ten years ago- but doing it in a 777 was something else entirely. "Uh, request more information on the hostiles."

"Looks like half a dozen Nevermores. You're well above them and pulling away quickly. They're not going to catch you up there."

"Well, that's a relief, I guess," Mike remarked. "I still don't know what the hell he means by Nevermore, though."

"No shit." He keyed the microphone again. "Vale, understand we are now out of danger from hostile aircraft. Maintaining speed and heading."

"You mentioned a runway earlier, uh, confirm you are a HOTOL aircraft?"

"A what?" Bob asked.

"I think he's asking if we take off and land horizontally," Mike replied, confused. "Like an airplane."

"That's an odd way of putting it, isn't it?" The captain keyed his microphone. "Vale, United one seven eight, confirm we land horizontally and require a runway."

"How long a runway do you require?"

The captain could answer this one from memory. "Recommended is six thousand feet. We would prefer at least ten thousand feet, and we can land on four thousand feet if no other option is available."

"And how heavy is your aircraft?"

That question required more thought. The 777-200 had empty and maximum weights in the specifications, but they were partially loaded with passengers, cargo, and fuel. They had been given an estimated weight after loading and before takeoff, but since then they had burned quite a bit of fuel. He ran the numbers in his head and rattled them off to the controller.

The controller didn't quite mask the worry in his voice. "Okay, United, we'll clear the sky and get things ready for you. Recommend you approach to within visual distance and circle."

"How much fuel do we have?" the first officer asked. He checked the gauges- really electronic indicators- himself. "About twenty thousand. This thing's pretty thirsty in a full power climb, huh?"

"Yeah, it just sucked it dry." Captain Banes noted that they were still at increased power, maintaining a higher than normal speed. "Vale, how far out are we?"

"Approximately one hundred miles. You're about twelve minutes out. You should see the city lights soon."

"Which city?" the first officer wryly remarked.

The captain cocked his head. "We're about to find out, aren't we?"

Orville watched the young woman beside him check her watch. "What, uh, are you waiting for something?"

"I'm- just, I don't know where we're landing," she replied. "I'm not going to make my connecting flight, and if we haven't been talking with the people on the ground, maybe they think we're lost. I don't want Ian to worry."

The Brit was more confused than anything. "Huh?"

"That's silly, isn't it?" Janet asked, more to herself than to her travelling companion. "I mean, I should be more worried about landing safely, shouldn't I?"

"We're probably going to land fine," Orville replied with more optimism than he should have had. "I mean, we'll head to our diversion airport, and then we'll land. The plane seems to be okay... we'll be fine. So yes, by all means worry about what happens next."

"You're just saying that."

"Just trying to keep my pecker up."

She glared at him.

"That means something bad in American, doesn't it?"

A different voice, this one harsh and female, interrupted the pilots. "United, Vale. Descend to fifteen thousands. Interceptors will form up on your wings."

The captain and first officer shared a look. "Uh, copy that, Vale. What are they going to look like?"

The response was curt. "Standard Falcon interceptors. Callsign Azure."

"Copy that, Vale," Captain Banes replied. After a moment, he asked, "Are these USAF birds?"

"Negative, United, they're ours." A pause. "They will be on this channel."

He turned to the first officer. "Who else operates F-16s?"

Mike shook his head. "Nobody on this side of the world."

"Hey, look, Lily, airplanes!" John said excitedly, pointing out the window.

"Is it a fighter escort?" Lily asked. She knew that sometimes fighters would escort an airliner during an incident. Often, those incidents were suspected or known hijackings. But they wouldn't really shoot them out of the sky- no, not unless they were heading toward a building or something. They were not hijacked. The pilots were still in control.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied. "They're kind of funny looking, though. They've got, like, a lot of engines, and they rotate, and it's got those swinging wings like on the Bobcat. And those reburner things. Really cool looking."

She leaned over to take a look. Her brother was right- they certainly didn't look like any plane she'd seen before. "Maybe it's that really expensive stealth fighter they're talking about."

"Yeah, maybe. I wonder if they'll let us look at them when we land."

"That... is not an F-16," Mike Langdon said, shocked.

"No shit," the captain deadpanned. "I've never seen anything like that before. Looks almost like something the Russians built... but the wings are all wrong."

"I don't recognize the markings," Mike added. "Bob?"

"No. Where the fuck are we?" He shook his head. "Alright, we can ask when we get on the ground. Let's start the pre-landing checklist."

"United one seven eight heavy, this is Azure Lead," a cold, professional voice called over the radio. "We will escort you in. Can you see me?"

One of the interceptors accelerated from its position alongside the airliner to a position in front. "Affirmative, Azure Lead. Confirm you are directly ahead and slightly above us."

"Azure Lead, affirmative. Do you request that we reduce speed?"

"Negative, Azure Lead." They were actually going a little slower than he would have liked, but it was well within the normal operating range of the airliner.

The copilot noticed that another interceptor. had taken Lead's place. "Awfully close, aren't they?"

"Yeah," the captain agreed. "Azure Flight, recommend you increase separation. This jumbo can make one hell of a vortex."

"Azure copy, increasing separation," Azure Lead replied. "You should be able to see Vale now. Forty miles to the highway, skies are clear."

"Uh, Azure Lead, did you say highway or runway?"

She hesitated slightly. "United, you will be landing on a specially prepared highway built with emergency landings in mind."

"Well, that's reassuring, isn't it?"

It took a while for Janet to figure out what had been bothering her. Something unsettling, like they were falling. And then she realized that they quite literally were. "Are we going down?"

"Yeah," Orville replied. Seeing the scared expression on her face, he quickly added, "Not like, crashing going down, just descending for a landing. Like-"

"Cabin crew, prepare for emergency landing," the pilot's voice called, interrupting.

"See?" Orville said.

"Are we talking like a crash landing or a normal landing?" Janet called to a flight attendant as she rushed by.

The flight attendant paused and smiled. "Oh, no, it'll be a safe landing. We're landing on a runway."

Orville turned to the woman beside him. "That's oddly specific, isn't it?"

"Okay, Mike, when we hit the highway, I need you to engage the thrust reversers and slam down on the brakes as hard as you can."

"Got it." He replied. "I can't believe we're landing on a highway."

"Well, maybe it's better to pretend it's a runway," the captain replied. Airliners had tried to land on highways before, but they had never enjoyed a complete success.

"Kinda looks like one, doesn't it?" the copilot noted. "I wonder if they built it that way on purpose?"

"Add it to the list of questions to ask after," the captain said seriously. "I've got the tiller. Just focus on stopping us."

"That's not a runway," Orville suddenly pointed out, glancing out the window before returning to a rigid position facing forward.

Janet blinked at him. "What?"

"It's a highway, not a runway. Dear god, we're landing on a highway."

"Can we land on a highway?" she asked. She personally doubted it.

"Honestly? Probably not," Orville replied, grimacing. "You should, uh, you should hold on."

"Yeah," Janet managed, gripping her armrests.

Several rows forward, John pointed out to his sister, "Hey, look, the runway has cars on it."

"I think that's the road next to the airport," she replied automatically.

John shook his head. "No, we're lined up with it- and now there aren't any more cars. I think we're landing-"

They were interrupted by a sudden call of "Brace!"

John was immature in many ways, but not stupid. He immediately adopted the brace position, leaning forward and covering his head with his hands. He tensed up, expecting the worst. His sister and the other passengers aboard were mostly thinking the same thing.

Were these their last moments, or would they live to see another day?

To his surprise, the impact was gentle, maybe slightly worse than a normal landing. It was immediately followed by the roar of the engines throttling up.

"Huh?" He uncovered his head and leaned back into his seat, turning to look out the window. The plane was definitely on the ground. He could barely make out the edge of the reverser door, though he didn't recognize it. He did notice that the wing had several surfaces deployed- he guessed correctly that they were a kind of airbrake.

As they decelerated, there were several loud bangs and the aircraft began to shake more violently. Some of the passengers, as well as the flight crew, recognized this as the overstressed tires blowing out. The doubts returned to their mind. Would they die so close to surviving the flight?

Very quickly, however, the plane came to a complete stop. The engines throttled down before shutting down completely. They were down and stopped. They were safe.

Had the passengers not immediately drowned it out with a standing ovation, they would have heard the captain's tired and slightly off-colour announcement:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now landed... uh, on a highway just outside of Vale. Local time and temperature is, uh, I have no fucking idea, actually. Please remain seated until the seat belt sign is off. Thank you for flying United Airlines. We're real sorry about any inconvenience this may have caused."