EricCWelch

The time is the near future, and the Pentagon, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to preempt the Congress' arms limitations treaty by testing a very sophisticated new type of missile that is much more maneuverable than previous models. Unfortunately, because of a number of normally inconsequential but interlocked failures of equipment and personal situations of the participants, the officers of the Nimitz are unaware that a Boeing 797, the newest supersonic passenger jet, flying at 63,000 feet, has deviated slightly from its normal flight path and is flying dangerously close to the target drone. The pilot of the F-18 that is supposed to fire the new test missile does see two targets on his screen, but assuming one must be an electronic anomaly, he fires anyway, under pressure to have the test come off successfully. The new missile tracks the larger of the two targets and strikes the 797. Because it has no warhead, the missile plunges through the jet causing a sudden decompression, which at 63,000 feet is deadly. The pilot throws the plane into an emergency dive, remembering to engage the autopilot just before losing consciousness. At that altitude, the oxygen does not help because of the lack of pressure. (If you don' like flying, this is not the book for you, because DeMille' description of the cabin' depressurization and what happens to the passengers is rather graphic.) Not everyone is killed, but all except two are left severely brain-damaged. The two who survived the decompression were in the lavatories at the time, enclosed spaces that decompressed much more slowly because the doors sealed, closing from the inside against the frame, and the compressors continued to supply compressed air through the vents. They could not open the doors to get out because of the extreme pressure and so did not suffer brain damage or fatal complications. (The lesson here, of course, is to spend your entire flight locked in the bathroom. Smoke, too, but leave the box cutters at home.) Commander Sloan, captain of the Nimitz, then plots how he can cover up the tragedy. The pilot reports seeing no one alive on the plane, so Sloan tries to persuade the only other person on the bridge, a retired, observing admiral, that given that the test was technically illegal because of the arms limitation treaties, shooting down the aircraft, now cruising along unaided at 11,000 feet, would be in the best interests of the Navy. In the meantime, John Berry, a small plane pilot and bathroom survivor, discovers two flight attendants who had been isolated in the lower galley, a little girl and another man who had also been lucky enough to be in the bathroom at the time of decompression. Together, they try to figure out what has happened and how they might get out of the mess they now find themselves in. Those passengers who had managed to put on oxygen masks were not dead but had suffered severe brain damage and several of them have begun behaving erratically, often in a threatening manner. John discovers that none of the four radios are not working; fortunately the data link, a special communications line to the company, still works. Using the autopilot to help keep the plane under control (following directions from the company over the datalink,) Berry begins a slow turn of the plane back toward California. The trailing fighter pilot now realizes there must still life — or at least a vase of flowers and assorted fruit and nuts — on board and he only pretends to follow Sloan' orders to down the plane. Clearly, DeMille has a cynical view of supervisors and those in command. In both books, those in charge spend most of their time basing decisions on how the results might affect their career or promotions rather than on what is right or what the facts may warrant. In Mayday, the insurance agent for the airline and the VP of operations both decide to vector the stricken airliner into the sea; the agent, because the liability of caring for the disabled people the rest of their lives is more exposure than the insurance company can bear; and the VP, because he was involved in the decision to save money by not spreading the risk, and is also afraid that some maintenance shortcuts may come to light, especially as they think it may have been a bomb that caused the decompression. They also react to the current American fetish that all accidents and mishaps must be somebody' fault and therefore someone — anyone — must be punished. This was one of DeMille' first books, and his co-author is an accomplished wide-body airline pilot. It lacks some of the delightful wisecracking of John Corey, hero of some of his later novels, but nevertheless already has the taut suspense-filled-fasten-your-seat-belt-can' content so typical of his books.