Page 13 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)

Air Force One did not go quietly to her grave.

It was obvious that landing with the waves was better than against them.

Even at a stall speed of a hundred and seventy knots, they’d be moving a hundred and fifty faster than the water; against the waves would be a hundred and ninety knots—two hundred and twenty miles per hour—relative speed to the water.

They would also expend precious altitude executing a banked turn.

If they landed parallel to the waves, they might put the fuselage into a trough and let the waves to either side exert even pressures against both wings.

But they’d have to catch the trough perfectly.

He’d seen the videos of a commercial jet that planted one wing first—the destruction had been horrendous.

The stall buzzer sounded, yet he held the nose up mere meters above the waves. He glanced over at Sandra. She’d have made—would make…he hoped—a fine pilot to take over his role.

Her simple nod wished him luck.

He nodded back his thanks for all their flights together and turned his full attention to the landing.

Maybe if he nosed up hard at the last instant. Nosed up, using the belly of the plane and wings like a massive air brake the way the old Space Shuttle had. Then, when the tail caught the waves, he could commit a colossal belly flop into the ocean. To do that he had to—