Chapter 21 — Between Two Runways

The meeting room of the investment committee on the twelfth floor of the Airport Corporation headquarters can accommodate fifty people, but today there were only eight, sitting around a long oval table, each person in front of a file of nearly one hundred pages thick.

Co Dac Thinh stood in front of the presentation screen, his voice was steady but had a new certainty, different from the tone he used in previous presentations, when each sentence had to be carefully considered so as not to sound like a plea.

"I would like to present a comprehensive report on the state of the radar infrastructure at Tra Son Airport, along with the latest evidence from the extreme weather event two weeks ago," he said, pressing the button to move to the next slide, showing a detailed timeline of the stormy day's shift: six flights, twenty seconds of complete radar loss, wind gusts reaching forty knots.

"As you can see," he continued, "the operations team at Tra Son successfully handled this situation thanks to excellent technical skills and well-trained backup procedures. But I want to emphasize: this is the result of individual excellence compensating for an outdated infrastructure, not evidence that the existing infrastructure is still safe enough to continue operating unchanged."

A committee member, who had replied "will consider" over the phone to Thinh no less than ten times in the past two years, spoke up. "Mr. Thinh, I appreciate your persistence. But I still have to ask the familiar question: why prioritize Tra Son before airports with much larger traffic?"

Thinh did not immediately answer with traffic numbers like previous times. Instead, he turned to the last slide, showing an excerpt from the near-miss investigation report, enlarged with text: "the delay in updating the position of the secondary radar system was one of the factors that contributed to the incident's development."

"I won't argue with traffic numbers," he said. "I'll just ask you again: if those twenty seconds of radar loss happened at the exact moment the six targets were at their closest distance to each other, instead of the lucky moment when they were far apart, what do you think today's report would say? We're betting passenger safety on luck, and I don't think that's how an airport should operate, regardless of traffic."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"I propose to approve an emergency budget package for upgrading secondary radar and backup power systems at Tra Son, under shortened bidding," Thinh said, ending the presentation. "The estimated costs are already on file, which are significantly lower than the potential costs if a serious incident actually occurs, not to mention what cannot be converted into money."

The voting took place more briefly than Thinh expected. Six out of eight members agreed, enough to pass the proposal according to the committee's bylaws.

The person who said "will consider" on the phone raised his hand to agree first. His eyes when looking at Thinh carried an implicit acknowledgment without needing to say it out loud: this time, the evidence was strong enough to overcome all the familiar arguments for delay. “I support this proposal,” he said, “and I think we should consider applying the same risk assessment process to other regional airports with similar infrastructure characteristics, before waiting for a similar incident to occur elsewhere.”

Thinh nodded, unable to hide his surprise at that expansion proposal, something he never dared to hope for when entering the meeting room this morning. "I am willing to share the full analysis methodology we used for Tra Son, if the committee finds it useful for other airports."

A text message arrived on Boi Thu's phone in the middle of the afternoon, while she was on duty: "The committee has approved the budget to upgrade the radar and backup system for Tra Son. Construction is expected to start in the next quarter, completed in about ten months. Thank you, and the whole team, for constantly providing evidence so that this war can be won."

Boi Thu read the message three times, a feeling of relief spreading slowly, different from the explosive joy she could have imagined when she first heard the news a few months ago. This is not a victory that comes from miracles, but is the result of a long chain of reports, numbers, and perseverance of many people, of which she is just a link.

She showed Bach and Van the messages as soon as there was silence between flights. Van exclaimed softly, trying to control herself so as not to disrupt the working atmosphere, while Bach just smiled and nodded, as if this news confirmed something he had long believed.

"How much faster will the new radar scan?" Bach asked, curious with the eyes of a young person who has just heard that he will be able to work with more modern technology.

"I read in the technical file Mr. Thinh attached, three times faster than the current system, along with enough backup power to maintain continuous operation for at least four hours if the main power is lost," Boi Thu said. "No more having to switch to non-radar procedures in the middle of forty-knot winds, at least not for equipment reasons."

“I look forward to seeing it in action,” Bach said, his voice filled with the excitement of a young person envisioning a near future where his work tools will be much more reliable than they are today.

"You'll see," Boi Thu said. "And perhaps, at that time, you will be the one sitting in the main position, instructing another student, telling the story of the old system as part of the station's history, no longer a current concern."

"Ten months," Khoat said, upon hearing the news, his voice still retaining the familiar matter-of-factness. "Not short, but not forever either. I think that's the most reasonable number I've heard in my two years working here."

"During those ten months, we still have to work with the current system," Boi Thu said, bringing everyone back to reality. "Nothing will change immediately. We still need to be as cautious as before, maybe even more so, because now we know exactly where it will be replaced, and no one wants problems in the final months before the new system arrives."

That evening, after his shift, Boi Thu stopped by Chuong Ba Vong's office, where he was sitting alone, rereading the official announcement from the Corporation that had just been sent down, printed on formal letterhead.

"You know," he said, when he saw her walk in, "this is the first time in the eight years I've been station chief here that I've received a budget approval document without having to write an accompanying complaint."

"How does it feel?" Boi Thu asked, sitting in the chair opposite, a position that had now become familiar to her in a completely different way than the first time she sat here, trembling, waiting to hear the news that she was suspended.

"Strange," Vong admitted, laughing lightly. "I'm so used to having to fight for everything that when it comes easier than expected, I don't know how to react."

"It's not easy," Boi Thu said. "It only seemed easy because we didn't see the two years Thinh persistently submitted the report, or the eight years the recommendations were neglected in Bach Lung before they were finally implemented. Everything seemed to come suddenly just because the most difficult part had been happening silently long before."

Vong nodded, folded the notice, and put it away carefully in a drawer, as a document he wanted to keep as a souvenir of a long war that had come to an end — not ending with a resounding victory, but with a steady step forward, enough for both people in the room to understand that was exactly how truly lasting changes often happened.

"Ten more months," Vong said, more to himself than to her. "I'll still be sitting here when the new system is installed. It's probably the thing I'm most looking forward to in the final years before retirement."

"Are you still planning to retire so early?" Boi Thu asked, a bit surprised by the detail she had never heard him mention.

"Not too soon, still a few years away," Vong said, smiling slightly. "But I want to see this station enter a more stable period before handing it over to the successor. I think, with what you and the whole team have done in the past few months, this station is moving in the right direction."

Boi Thu didn't say anything more, just smiled, feeling a quiet warmth spreading in her chest, completely different from the constant tension that had accompanied her for the past few months, and she left his office with a rare feeling of relief, taking it home with her instead of leaving it behind with her shift.