Plenty Plane Point of Views
“The defendant is proven guilty for the crime of engaging in homosexual activities,” the judge mandated. The defendant, Anwar Ibrahim, is the current Leader of Opposition in Malaysia, who is being convicted for his crimes, sentenced to 5 years in prison.
“Well, that was eventful, I’m off to the airport and I’ve got a long flight ahead of me,” Captain Zaharie Shah proclaimed with an air of defeat in his tone.

“Luggage, check, ticket, check, passport, check, looks like we’re off to the airport, next stop Beijing,” Mary Burrows exclaimed as she loaded the remainder of her luggage into the compartment in the back of the shuttle bus.
“Which terminal?” the driver questioned.
“C,” she stated in an empathic voice.
“No D, Malaysia Airlines,” her husband, Rodney Burrows, wryly corrected her.

Karmooi Hiong attempted to lift his asthenic body from the comfort of his mattress. Despite his weak physique, being a fisherman in Malaysia provided the only source of income for his impoverished family. He dressed, walked outside and managed to make his way down towards the docks in the darkness of the night. Together he and fellow fisherman Huajin Ling boarded their vessel and navigated out into the South China Sea.

“Ma’am please remove your shoes and any metal items you may have on your person, and step through the metal detector,” declared the burly security guard. Mary stepped through the metal detector, setting it off; she walked back, fished a metal clip out from the depths of her khaki pocket and continued on through. Gate D19, is what was printed in bold letters on the top of their boarding passes. Both Mary and Rodney Burrows ambled down the terminal towards their departure gate. They had an hour before take off. With a sense of foreboding, Mary gazed out the window at the storm barreling towards them and she prayed that the flight would not be delayed due to the impending weather. Flashes of lightning illuminated the Malaysian night sky as Mary anxiously reclined in her seat, anticipating the conclusion of the storm.

A flash of lightning elucidated the sky, accompanied by a clap of boisterous thunder. “It’s going to be a rough night of winds and waves,” Huajin promulgated to Karmooi. They both sat together in silence, quietly listening to the imminent storm coming towards them just a few miles off, as their boat rocked back and forth along with the motion of the tide. Both men reposed back into a comfortable position in their chairs, anticipating the severity of the storm.
“Looks like we aren’t going to see much activity tonight,” Karmooi proclaimed with a jesting air, wishing he had not left the sanctuary of his home an hour prior. “I hope we don’t get much rain” he commented to his partner, eyeing the new hole in the deckhouse roof he had just noticed.

Arriving at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, both the captain, Zaharia Shah and the co-pilot, Fariq Hamid, acknowledged one another as they climbed out of their cars and walked together towards terminal D, gate 19. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” Fariq exclaimed to Zaharie as he stared off into the distance at the bolts of lightning which lit up the clouds, highlighting the dismal night sky. Making their way through security, then down the terminal to the departure gate, both captain and co-pilot descended the stairs of the gate and stepped onto the tarmac, approaching the Malaysia Airlines Boeing 777. Conducting their pre-flight procedure, they inspected the necessary compartments and components needed prior to departing for Beijing Capital International Airport.

Drops of rain splattered the windows of the Boeing 777 aircraft as the passengers boarded the plane. “Your mother and I will see you when we land,” Rodney Burrows stated into the receiver of the phone before he closed it and took his seat. Despite being a spacious, twin engine wide-bodied jet, Rodney felt restricted within the stuffy cabin quarters. Passengers continued to file on board the Malaysia Airlines flight. All 239 of them stowed their belongings in the overhead compartments and took their seats.
After a few moments of shuffling throughout the restraints of the plane, the pilot’s voice sounded over the intercom and projected throughout the aisles of the plane. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen aboard Malaysia Airlines flight 370 out of Kuala Lumpur International Airport to Beijing Capital International Airport, I am captain Zaharie Shah along with my co-pilot Fariq Hamid and we will be your pilots this morning. Please enjoy your flight and we will be landing in Beijing shortly. Thank you,” the intercom clicked off as the plane began to taxi backwards and continued down the tarmac towards the departure runway.

“Right, cleared for take-off. Good night,” the tower correspondent stated, lifting off the tarmac into the air.
A little less than an hour elapsed until the radar sounded, “Malaysian Three Seven Zero contact Ho Chi Minh 120 decimal 9 Goodnight,” flight 370 responded with, “Goodnight Malaysian Three Seven Zero.”

With the cabin lights dimmed, a large majority of passengers on the flight had fallen asleep forty minutes into take off. Rodney Burrows laid awake, reclined back in his chair; he shuffled through the assortment of movies provided, deciding between A Few Good Men, Cast Away and Braveheart before deciding upon the classic, Cast Away.

Under the scant shelter that the low deckhouse on the fishing boat provided, Huajin huddle next to Karmooi. The sky was ablaze with flashes of lightning, some blasting straight down to the surface of the sea, but most seemed to stab from cloud to cloud illuminating the storm front. They exchanged looks of concern as the first wave of the storm swept over them. The waves seemed to jump from the wind like they had been swept into the surf. Huajin kept the small craft as square to the waves as he could lest they be swamped. Karmooi commenced reeling in their fishing lines, deciding to call it quits for the night and to head back into shore before the storm worsened. They’d been out in worse wind and higher seas, but neither could remember ever seeing such an intense display of lightning.

The aircraft shook violently back and forth as they continued to experience turbulence, for the majority of the flight the passengers had been enduring the vehement storm.
“Maybe we should consider flying an alternative route to avoid the storm,” Fariq questioned.
“Would you lock in the new coordinates into the course setting, Fariq?”
“Actually … I’m having a little trouble … I’m more used to the A350 avionics. Would you mind helping me?” was the copilot’s sheepish response
“Sure I will its no problem.”

At seemingly the exact same moment, the sky around them erupted in a blinding flash of blue-white light, and from the avionics bay, a shower of golden sparks illuminated the cockpit. An acrid smell permeated the air, as banks of instruments went dark. Both multi-function displays were completely blank.

“Is everything OK?” came the panicked cry of the head flight attendant. “The main cabin lights are all out. Can you open the cockpit door?”

With an attempt to open it, Zaharie shouted in an anxious manner “The lightning must have shorted out the electronic door lock.” Despite the fact there was no way to enter or exit the cockpit, both Karmooi and Fariq had more substantial problems. They still had to control the Boeing Triple Seven without the assistance of navigation which was due to the electrical shortage throughout the plane.

“Kuala Lumpur regional, this is MAS370. We have an emergency.”

There was nothing but silence.

The lightning flashes outside the plane illuminated Mary Burrows’ sleeping face, even as the plane bucked and shuddered in the turbulent air. “How can anyone sleep through this?” Rodney thought to himself. To try to keep his mind off of the unsettling weather, he returned his attention to the movie. At the moment when Tom Hanks is grasping on for dear life as the Fed Ex plane dives nose first into the water, an exceptionally large jolt shook the Malaysia Airlines Boeing 777, accompanied by a brilliant lightning flash which resulted in complete, encompassing darkness in the cabin as the plane’s lights went out. Those who were awake sat up in their seats, curiously searching around the plane for a source of answers. Hushed murmurs burst from mouths, waking a majority of passengers from their slumber. In a mad rush, the flight attendants rushed towards the cockpit, through the thick muttering, you could hear one attendant banging on the door of the cockpit.

Due the fact that the storm was beginning to dwindle down to a slight, steady rain with the occasional bolt of lightning followed by a clap of thunder, Karmooi and Huajin refrained from sailing back into shore. In an instant, an unidentified robustious noise enveloped the men and in that same instant it was gone, growing faint as time elapsed. The men identified the noise as that of an airplane; however, the magnitude of the noise was due to how low it had been flying as it passed. As the plane passed overhead, a piece fell, splashing into the ocean below, and spraying the men with a light mist of ocean water. Maneuvering the boat, they pulled along side, retrieving the fallen object from the water.

Abruptly, the plane diverged taking a sharp turn to the left which jostled every passenger on board. Passengers shot up in their seats, peering around wide eyed at one another, looking for answers to what was happening. By the appearance of the people’s distressed visages, you could infer that they were assuming the worse possibilities for the occurrence. “No electricity, no communication with the pilots and the plane was headed off course,” Rodney thought. A mix of dread and hopelessness encompassed everyone’s minds as they considered the possibility of a hijacking. This was followed by the sound of the pressurized air in the cabin rushing towards the front of the plane and out. Every loose item in the cabin: newspapers, hats, peoples’ coats, carry on bags, was caught up in the rush of air and carried towards the site of the opening in the fuselage which apparently was in the cockpit area of the plane, as the debris piled itself around the door to the cockpit. “Where are the oxygen masks?” yelled Rodney to his wife, as the passengers gasped for breathe in the thin air left following the decompression. Rodney was not the only one yelling, but without the life-sustaining oxygen, soon all the passengers were unconscious.

“Mayday, Mayday! MAS370. We have a lightning strike and decompression! Mayday, Mayday!” Fariq screamed into the com.

“Never mind the radio, there’s no power” Zaharie yelled, as he attempted to react to the decompression by reducing altitude to get to where there’d be enough oxygen. Without the MFDs and other instruments, he couldn’t accurately verify their altitude, or tell how fast they were descending. With the plane enveloped in the storm clouds he feared he wouldn’t see the ocean surface in time to level the plane out. It was a race against time. Could they get down to an altitude with enough oxygen to sustain them before they all passed out? Zaharie didn’t dare dive the plane any faster, he didn’t know how much time he’d have after the plane broke through the clouds and he would get a visual on their altitude for the pullout. Looking beside him, Fariq was slumped over his controls, already unconscious. “I need to get us level – maybe we’ve descended enough”. Zaharie pulled back on the yoke, arresting their dive, leveling them out. With his last conscious effort, he flipped on the altitude hold, not knowing whether or not it remained functional following the power loss.

“You must take this to the authorities. They will want it” Huajin said.

“No, look how nicely it fits on top of the deckhouse.” Karmooi responded.

They looked at the panel they had retrieved. It had a smooth, white painted exterior. Along the edges were ripped aluminum, but the reinforcing pieces happened to fit the width of the deckhouse roof supports perfectly. The edges could be filed smooth later.

“I think I’ll keep it as a gift from the sea. We sure didn’t get any thing else tonight. No shrimp, no fish, but a beautiful new roof for our boat” Karmooi affirmed. “What harm can it do? Why would the authorities want it anyway?”

At 10,000 feet, Malaysian Airways flight 370 emerged from the southern edge of the storm into a brilliant night filled with bright constellations. It flew steady and level on its course setting. The first rays of sun, as the dawn came, glinted off the very top of the left side of the vertical tail, as the engines sputtered, and fell silent.

In the darkened air traffic control room in Ho Chi Minh City, Tran Thu looked over the list of flights expected in his sector. “MAS370, please report. This is Ho Chi Minh control. Please provide your flight coordinates.” Odd, they should have checked in 5 minutes ago, he thought.
Nguyen Thao, the shift supervisoer leaned over. “Problem, Thu?”
“Malaysia flight 370, out of Kuala Lumpur, enroute to Beijing. 5 minutes late on their mark”, Tran replied to his superior. “I’m worried about the thunderstorm off the east coast of Malaysia”.
“Have you checked for a transponder signal?”
“Not a thing. Very strange” was Tran’s response. “Do I raise the alarm?”
With his last moments of consciousness, Zaharie peered through blurred eyes, his body felt limp and head heavy, and he was confined in still silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fariq’s lifeless body flaccidly dangling over the controls. Before he slipped unconscious, he recognized a monotone, muffled voice coming from the controls, “MAS370 do you copy, please respond.”