Pilotage

Mark R. Twombly is a Florida-based commercial pilot and a partner in a single-pilot Twin Comanche.

"Cancel the emergency!" The first time I heard Bill say those words, I was taken aback. What emergency? From the right seat everything looked normal. We were climbing out with both engines whining the same song, the cabin was pressurizing, there were no lights aglow on the annunciator panels, and most important, there were no complaints heard from the expensive seats in the back.

So, what's the problem? I hadn't seen any emergency develop, much less be resolved. As the second in command, the pilot not flying, I should be the first to spot trouble, announce it, and deal with it. When the other guy is flying the airplane I fly the radios, read checklists, flip switches, turn knobs, scan for traffic, and look for problems. And as far as I could tell there were none. What had Bill seen that I hadn't?

Nothing. I soon learned that "cancel the emergency!" is his wry way of announcing that he has relinquished control of the airplane to the autopilot.

Learning to interpret the unique language of a chief pilot is the challenge for this new member of a professional two-pilot crew. Correction: It is one of many challenges.

For nearly all of the three decades I've been flying, it's been as a crew of one. A jet type rating earned 11 years ago was my first serious exposure to a formal two-pilot cockpit. I was not doing any professional flying at the time, however, so I quickly returned to airplanes in which the right seat was available for a passenger rather than reserved for a required second pilot.

Even when I began flying professionally as a part-time contract pilot (an independent contractor rather than an employee), I was flying single-pilot airplanes. Several years ago, however, I set a goal of eventually working my way into a business jet, and earlier this year it happened. I landed a gig as a copilot on a Cessna Citation II.

I'm one of two contract pilots the chief pilot calls on, and the arrangement seems to work well for everyone. For sure I am having fun. What's not to love? We fly to some interesting places including a couple of international destinations, I respect the chief pilot and enjoy his company, the checks are prompt in coming, and did I mention it's a jet?

Some would disagree about the jet part. Like the short guy on the basketball team, straight-wing Citations have suffered for years from the pointy end of darts lobbed by pilots who fly "real" jets with swept wings. It's true that the "Slowtation" or "Near Jet" can't match the climb or cruise performance of other business jets. On the other hand, no other jet can match the Citation's low, and therefore safe, takeoff and approach speeds, simplicity of operation and, from Cessna's happy perspective, its unprecedented sales success.

(Cessna silenced the Slowtation cynics once and for all when it introduced the swept-wing Mach 0.92 Citation X, called the fastest business jet in the sky.)

But jet bashing among pilots is best left to the bored and the burned out. I'm too busy figuring out what it means to be a member of a professional crew.

First, there's the matter of flying a jet. A straight-wing Citation may be comparatively slow in the flight levels, but below 10,000 feet msl, where the speed limit is 250 KIAS (200 KIAS in terminal areas) all jets are created equal and things happen quickly. Acceleration on takeoff, initial climb rate, ground speed, time between waypoints, descent rates, thrust reverser-aided stopping distances — the performance is exhilarating, but you have to be ready for it.

For example, something as simple as a descent from 9,000 feet to 3,000 feet msl calls for a quick hand and a confident mind. The drill is to reach up to the panel and dial the new lower altitude into the altitude preselect box, reach down to the pedestal between the two seats and tap the ALT button on the autopilot mode controller to arm altitude capture, then gently nudge the small pitch control wheel on the autopilot mode controller forward to start the nose down. Oh, and one more very important procedure: Grab a fistful of power levers and bring them back, quicklike, to prevent the airplane from shooting through 250 on its way to the V _MO redline (maximum operating limit speed — M _MO — is the equivalent Mach limitation) before you can say, "What's that horn mean?"

The procedure is not that different from any similarly equipped high-performance propeller-driven aircraft. The difference is the jet's high indicated airspeed, and the speed at which you have to think. At 250 KIAS your head had better be going 300.

Getting up to speed isn't the only interesting challenge when transitioning into a two-pilot jet. I'm still learning chief pilot-speak. My next language lesson after "cancel the emergency!" occurred on the occasion of my first landing from the left seat. This time, however, I didn't have to guess at his meaning.

Just as we touched down — a bit firmly, as I recall — Bill spoke up, and in impeccable New England understatement observed, "It is customary to flare."