“V2 plus 15,” as they passed their take-off safety speed and accelerated 15 knots past it.
“Positive rate-of-climb. Gear up.”
Paul also gave the standard palm-up hand signal in concert with the verbal command. “Heading select, please.”
Jerry pressed the Heading button, which commanded a 250-degree heading. The Boeing jet was just crossing the Pacific shoreline.
“Universal 297. Contact SoCal departure on 124.3.”
“124.3. Aloha, Universal 297.”
“VNAV, flaps 5 climb power.”
“Flaps 1.”
“Flaps up.”
“Paul, you have a clean machine,” Jerry said, indicating the landing gear and flaps had all completed their retraction cycles.
They then transitioned from initial take-off climb to enroute climb.
“Afternoon, SoCal. Universal 297 - two thousand climbing to five thousand.”
“Universal 297, SoCal Departure - climb and maintain one three thousand.”
“One three, that’s 13,000.”
As they climbed out of ten thousand feet, Jerry completed the After Take Off checklist and was advised to switch to Los Angeles Air Route traffic control center that would handle them all the way to their cruise altitude of 34,000.
“Universal 297, Climb and maintain flight level 34,000. Proceed direct to Dinty.”
“Climb and maintain flight level 340, and fly direct Dinty. How have the rides been over the ocean today?”
“No complaints so far but let me know if you want a different altitude.”
“Out of eighteen thousand, altimeters and lights?” Jerry queried.
“2992, and lights off.”
As they climbed out of 18,000 they transitioned from local corrected barometric settings to a standard 29.92 inches in the Altimeter Barometric Adjustment window, and the landing lights that had been on since take-off for visual collision avoidance were turned off.
“Autopilot on left. Air show’s over,” Paul said with a smile.
The Pacific has gone to reduced vertical separation, or RVSM, now a thousand foot vertical separation between air routes versus the previous two thousand, requiring the pilots to now utilize the autopilot above 29,000 feet, which was formerly common but not mandatory.
Jerry yawned, then smiled and said, “Are we there yet?”
To which Paul replied, “Hey, less then 2000 miles to go.”
Just then the cabin call chime sounded, and its corresponding blue light in the overhead panel illuminated.
Jerry answered the interphone call.
“Pilot abuse hotline, please state your grievance.”
“Jerry, you have been hanging around Paul too long. I heard that’s the line he uses,” laughed Amy.
“Yes, one of many bad habits I’m sure I have picked up flying with him.”
“What would you guys like to drink?”
“Diet Dr. Pepper for Paul and Diet Coke for me.”
“And fruits and nuts, for the fruits and nuts?” fired back Amy.
“Yeah, whatever you have sounds just great.”
“Ok, be right up. Galley is secure.”
That was Jerry’s cue that it was safe to open the door, after an additional visual check through the security camera and its monitor.
As Amy brought their drinks and snacks up, Paul stated, “It’s going to be a beautiful sunset.”
Amy returned, “I’ll be happy with a smooth flight and early arrival.”
“Amy, before you start the movie, I’m going to do a quick P.A.”
Paul keyed the Public Access system mic and gave the passengers the Honolulu weather, their estimated arrival time, as well as his usual “Welcome aboard, and please keep your seatbelts fastened” speech. Along with the TSA mandates of advising the passengers to use the appropriate lavatory in their cabin of service, First Class or Coach, and not to congregate in the galley area of the aircraft aisle.
“Ok, Jerry, I’m finished with all the lies,” referring humorously to his passenger announcements.
“No changes, and less then 5 hours to go,” said Jerry.
“Universal 297, three miles east of Dinty, radar service terminated, squawk 2000 change to enroute communications.” Los Angeles Center handed them over to San Francisco radio, which would handle their position reports and requests until they coasted in over oceanic position Denns, just a few hundred miles east of the Hawaiian Islands.
“Switch to enroute communications, have a great day, sir, and aloha.”
As Jerry filled out the Oceanic Position report, Paul took his earpiece out and turned up his speaker. “Stereo on the left.” Which prompted Jerry to do the same.
“Stereo on the right.” When the communications level is lower and the workload is light, it is common for crew to use the aircraft speakers instead of headsets.
“So Jerry, how are the wife and kids?”
“Doing well. She is happy with her new job, and they are all looking forward to our trip up to the mountains in central Oregon. How ‘bout your gang?”
“Michelle is enjoying Portland State and Steve is in his senior year in high school. He’s pretty busy with football, and getting ready for college.”
As they approached their first oceanic position reporting point, Jerry filled out data on the log sheet, then picked up the mic and selected high frequency radio Number One on his audio panel.
“San Francisco Radio - Universal 297. Position on 8843.”
“Universal 297 - San Francisco radio. Go ahead with your position report.”
“Universal 297, Duets at 0245, flight level 340, estimating Dopps at 0329, next Dialo, fuel 49.6, wind 240 diagonal 21, temp minus 42, go ahead.”
“Roger position, Universal 297. This is primary, secondary 5547, and I see you have already had a SelCal check.”
SelCal stands for Selective Calling so the aircraft can be discreetly paged with a chime and a visual blue light in the overhead panel.
As he put the Position Report log sheet on the glare shield, Jerry said, “One down, two to go,” referring to their three mandatory position reports with San Francisco radio.
After both of them had their bathroom breaks, the minutes passed rapidly. Amy brought their meals forward. They dined and enjoyed a lovely sunset.
“Despite what the satellite picture looks like, those look like storms clouds out in the distance, Jerry.”
“I agree, but I’m not painting anything on the weather radar.” Painting was slang for the colors that display on the weather radar. The radar paints water in the form of precipitation: green for light, yellow for moderate, and red for high, and finally purple for intense precipitation.
“I don’t see anything either.”
Paul’s radar was adjusted for maximum gain, or sensitivity to moisture that is always associated with storm systems. He also selected maximum range. Now it was time to see if any other aircraft had traversed the now clearly visible system of weather.
“Any aircraft on Romeo 576, the Delta track east of Dopps. Anyone have any ride reports through that weather system? This is Universal 297.”
“Universal 297. This is Transoceanic 30. There is no weather whatsoever on the Delta track, and it’s been a great ride. You sure you are westbound to Hawaii?”
“Transoceanic 30, Universal 297. It must have just popped up. It looks less than 100 miles away, but its not painting on radar.”
“Have a great flight. We’re going to call San Francisco radio for weather deviation.”
“Jerry, give San Francisco a call. Request a climb to flight level 390, and let’s stay 25 miles upwind of that weather, left-of-course.”
“San Francisco radio, Universal 297. Weather deviation required and request on 8843.”
“Universal 297, San Francisco radio. G
o ahead with your request.”
“Universal 297 requesting flight level 390 and deviation up to 25 miles left-of-course for weather.”
“Copied request for 390 and 25 miles left-of-course for weather. Standby, please.”
“Jerry I’m going to call Amy and give her a heads-up on some possible bumps ahead, and seat everybody down as precaution.”
As Paul turned on the seatbelt light, he called Amy on the interphone. “Amy, some possible bumps ahead, why don’t you all put everything away and take your seats for a bit.” Just then the SelCal chimed, and its blue call light illuminated. Jerry picked up the mic.
“Universal 297 answering SelCal.”
“Universal 297, San Francisco radio. ATC clears Universal 297 climb and maintain flight level 390. Report level 390, and you are cleared to deviate up to 25 miles left-of-course. Report back on course.”
As Jerry read back their clearance, Paul adjusted the tilt on the radar and selected 390 as their new altitude in the Altitude Select window of the mode control. Jerry then selected 390 in the flight management computer as well.
With the clearance to deviate left of course, Paul selected the route button and applied L25, 25 miles left of course.
As they leveled at 390, Jerry called San Francisco radio to report Level 390.
“Look at this Jerry, we are 25 miles upwind from the storm, and it’s changing course to match us. I’m going back to the right 25 miles.”
As Paul turned back to the right, the radar did not “paint” any weather. It showed no precipitation whatsoever. Based on his visual assessment, he would have expected to see lots of green indicating some light precipitation, and even some yellow for moderate and red for heavy, but he saw nothing as he stared at the radar sweeps.
“Holy shit, Jerry! As we deviate, this storm is matching our deviations.”
“Damn, you’re right, and looks like it grew faster than our climb rate, too. I swear we looked at least 5000 above it at 34,000, now we are at 390, and it’s way above us. This is some weird-ass weather.”
“Jerry, I’m slowing to Mach 79, and I’m coming back around to the left again.”
The storm was now less then twenty-five miles away. Wherever they turned, it matched their turn. “Well, Jerry, whatever it is, impact and penetration in less than 3 minutes.”
“Paul, that looks more like static discharges than active lightning.”
“Yeah, it’s almost reminiscent of the Northern Lights, the Aurora Borealis.”
“Speed Mach .79; ignition to Flight; and, Jerry, please call Amy and tell her to make sure everybody is down and belted, just in case we get hammered.”
Paul fully expected to get jolted by turbulent up and down drafts, but based on the radar, he was not expecting any hail or precipitation.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Captain speaking. We might be about to get a few bumps from a nearby weather system, and quite a light show as well. Please remain in your seats, with your seatbelts fastened.”
As they entered the swirling mass, their ride was smooth and unchanged, but the light show intensified.
“Paul, I have never seen weather or a light show like this. It’s amazing!”
Just then a finger of light discharged right in front of Paul, as if its energy were reaching for him. As it did, he had that same premonition that he had woken up with this morning, and felt a bit warm and tingly.
“Paul, you ok?”
“Yeah, Jerry, I’m fine.”
“Well, from here it looked like you took a lightning strike!”
“Really I’m ok…”
Then they both noticed that they were no longer in the storm; not that they had flown through it, but that it had just disappeared!
“Jerry, please inform San Francisco we are back on course.”
“What do you want me to tell them about the weather?”
“I don’t have a clue. The storm that wasn’t? Just tell them we are back on course and it has been a smooth ride. Who would believe us anyway?”
As Jerry finished his report to San Francisco, Paul turned the light override off, which had been illuminated so the storm’s flashes would not temporarily blind them, similar to what a high intensity strobe light can do.
“Paul, you’re glowing! Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Jerry, other than being a bit warm and tingly, I’ve never felt better!”
“You have a visible multi-colored… aura surrounding you; almost looks like a rainbow!”
Paul smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
The rest of the flight was uneventful. As they were taxiing into Gate 18, Jerry said, “You certain you don’t want to see a doctor, or at least report what happened?”
“Jerry, if we did report it, the only doctor we would be talking to would be a psychiatrist. Besides, I’m not glowing anymore, right?”
“Yup, you’re probably right.”
As they checked into the hotel on Waikiki, Paul told Jerry he was just going to call it a night and go to bed, but they would get together for lunch at noon tomorrow.
Paul stretched out on the bed and quickly drifted off to sleep.
2
Paul awakened feeling quite refreshed in the morning. He remembered dreaming about floating in space, and feeling that same warm tingly feeling and premonition, along with the feeling that he belonged there.
As he looked out the window, he could see the beach and Diamond Head clearly.
“I must have been tired,” Paul thought, “I slept with my hard contact lenses on.”
But no, he didn’t feel them in his eyes. There they were in their case. Incredible. Paul had never had vision this clear, even with contacts; 20-20, yes, but this was even better than that. Picking up the morning paper, he could read it perfectly, too, and without the 1.5 corrective reading glasses he had used for the past five years. Paul thought to himself, “Don’t know what’s going on here, but I hope it stays!”
The clock said 7:15 a.m., time to go for a run around Diamond Head. He gathered up his sunglasses, music player, and headset and headed downstairs on the elevator.
“Hmm, feels like 26 Centigrade or 79-Fahrenheit; maybe 73% humidity, with 4-knot breeze out of the northeast, perhaps from a magnetic bearing of 40 degrees,” Paul mused.
As he ran up Montserrat Street hill, it surprised him that on such a beautiful morning how every other runner seemed to be running at a noticeably slower pace. Paul passed every person that he encountered. Rounding Diamond Head and downhill by Kapiolani Park, he passed more slow pokes. Paul didn’t know when he had felt this good during a run. He almost seemed to be floating at times, but as he splashed through some rain puddles, that was obviously not the case.
Approaching the hotel swimming pool, a few laps seemed like a good idea. Paul looked at his watch, and was disappointed to see it had broken, or at least needed a new battery. It showed that he had only been gone 25 minutes. It always took him 45-50 minutes to do the Montserrat Diamond Head loop, so it was running 20 minutes slow - unusual for a digital watch.
The pool laps felt refreshing. He usually did 10, but today, for some reason, swimming went so effortlessly, he did 50 laps - a new personal best.
“Hey Paul, is that you?” It was the hotel pool maintenance man, Vern.
“Hi, Vern. How’re your boys doing?”
“Paul, if they could swim like that they would be in the Olympics! Where did you learn to swim like that?”
“Just doing my cool down, Vern, and few extra laps for good measure.”
“Paul, I have never seen anybody swim that fast. I timed you – 10 seconds per lap. Amazing!”
“That’s not possible,” Paul thought.
As he entered the hotel room, he glanced at the clock radio. It showed the same time as his watch. What was the chance of his watch and the clock r
adio both running twenty minutes slow?
“Front desk. How can I help you, Captain Christian?”
“Can you give me the time please?”
“It’s 8 o’clock.”
“Thanks.”
Now this was getting bizarre. The clock radio and his watch both said 8 o’clock. That would mean Paul did a 45-minute run in 25 minutes and swam 50 laps in just over 10 minutes. He typically ran eight-plus-minute miles. At 25 minutes, that would have been five-minute miles. That’s just not possible.
Paul had to solve this puzzle. After chugging down some water and vitamins, he ran the same course, except using the stopwatch function of his watch. As he rounded the bend back to the hotel, his stopwatch said 19 minutes and five seconds. That was faster then the previous run, and he wasn’t even tired. Paul figured his watch was fine - and he was even better!
He took short trip down to a local bookstore for some layover reading material. A couple of books caught his eye. One was Financial Statistical Analysis, the other Efficient Stock Market Theory.
As Paul walked back to the hotel, he spotted the fitness station at the park. Due to a sore shoulder, it had been a while since he had any upper-body exercise other than swimming. He used to be good for 10 pull-ups or so.
As Paul positioned his hands on the bar, he hoped it would not exacerbate any injury to his shoulder, since it had been better lately. Twenty-five pull-ups was a new personal best. Feeling great, he did 25 more. Those new vitamins must have kicked in.
After a salad and some fruit, Paul was poolside with a jug of water and books. Amazing how simple this financial stuff was - just statistics, projections, and basic logic, or so it seemed to him. He read the first book in little more than an hour, all 300 pages. In his mind’s eye, he could see all of the pages he wanted to recall. Paul considered that he should eat salad and fruit more often, but there were some things different in his mind and body that couldn’t be quantified.
His cell rang and it was his daughter. “Hey, Dudette, how ya’ doing?”
“Fine, Dad. How’s the weather in Hawaii?”
The Alpha Premonition: Book 1: A Gathering Storm Page 2