Chapter 2 - THE SUSPENDED FLIGHT ATTENDANT
At 8:12 the next morning, Leela Voss walked into Skycross Airlines headquarters carrying the same navy-blue crew bag she had used for six years.
By 8:19, security had taken her employee badge.
She looked at the plastic card lying on the conference-room table.
LEELA VOSS
SENIOR CABIN CREW
The irony almost made her smile.
Across from her sat Jenna Carter in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Leela’s first car.
Beside Jenna sat Harold Penn, Skycross’s director of operations, two attorneys, a union representative, and Captain Aaron Bishop, the pilot who had commanded Flight 312 during the emergency.
Jackson stood near the windows.
Not beside Leela.
Near the windows.
That distinction told her more than anything he might eventually say.
Jenna folded her hands.
“Let’s begin again.”
Leela leaned back.
“You’ve begun three times.”
“And your story still does not make sense.”
Captain Bishop’s jaw tightened.
“My aircraft was giving me contradictory position and air-data information.”
Jenna turned toward him.
“We know that.”
“Leela identified the secondary data loop before either of us did.”
“That is exactly my concern.”
Jenna looked at Leela.
“How?”
Leela’s union representative shifted beside her.
“You don’t have to answer technical questions outside the scope of your position.”
Leela almost laughed.
That sentence had defined most of her adult life.
Outside the scope of your position.
Stay where people put you.
Do not make them uncomfortable by being more than they expected.
Leela looked directly at Jenna.
“The left navigation display lagged seven seconds behind the standby coordinates. Your captain had already switched sources twice. The mismatch persisted. That ruled out a single display failure.”
Jenna’s expression remained smooth.
“That still doesn’t explain how a flight attendant knew what to isolate.”
“It was obvious.”
Harold Penn blinked.
“Obvious?”
“To someone who understands integrated avionics architecture.”
Jenna smiled faintly.
“There. You see the problem.”
Leela looked at her.
“What problem?”
“You are cabin crew.”
“And?”
“You had no authorization to manipulate cockpit systems.”
“I didn’t touch anything.”
“You instructed Captain Bishop.”
“He asked me what I saw.”
“And you somehow possessed knowledge well beyond your training.”
Captain Bishop interrupted.
“She helped save the airplane.”
Jenna turned sharply.
“We don’t know that.”
The captain stared at her.
“I was there.”
“You were under extreme stress.”
“So were two hundred and thirty-eight passengers.”
“And that is why we investigate instead of turning frightened impressions into conclusions.”
Leela watched her half-sister carefully.
Jenna had always been gifted at that.
Taking certainty and wrapping it in sophisticated language until everyone else began doubting what they had personally witnessed.
Their father used to call Jenna persuasive.
Leela had another word for it.
Dangerous.
Harold slid a report across the table.
“Preliminary data suggests the avionics network experienced a synchronization error.”
Leela glanced down.
Only three pages.
Too clean.
“Where’s the raw bus log?”
Jenna’s eyes sharpened.
Harold hesitated.
“The what?”
Leela looked at him.
“The raw ARINC and maintenance-network event sequence.”
Nobody answered.
She continued.
“If you’re calling this synchronization failure, you have to know whether corrupted inputs originated in an onboard sensor, a maintenance interface, or software propagation between processing units.”
Jenna tapped the table.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Jackson finally moved.
“Leela.”
She looked at him.
His voice was quiet.
“Maybe let the investigators handle the investigation.”
Something inside her went very still.
Of all the sentences he could have chosen.
That one.
Leela studied the man she had slept beside three nights earlier.
The man who knew how she took coffee.
The man who knew she hated thunderstorms on the ground but loved watching them from above.
The man who had once told her she was the smartest person he knew.
Apparently that compliment had never made him curious enough to ask why.
“Of course,” she said.
Jackson heard the change in her voice.
His face tightened.
“That's not what I meant.”
“It sounded remarkably clear.”
Jenna glanced between them.
She did not know.
Nobody in the room knew.
Jackson lowered his voice.
“Can we talk after this?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
Leela turned back to Harold.
“What exactly is my status?”
The operations director cleared his throat.
“Pending investigation, Skycross is placing you on temporary administrative suspension.”
Captain Bishop slammed a hand against the table.
“That is ridiculous.”
“Captain—”
“She followed my instruction.”
Jenna replied, “She entered a restricted cockpit during an emergency.”
“I called her in.”
“And we have to determine why you believed cabin crew could contribute to an avionics emergency.”
“Because she already had.”
Silence.
Bishop looked around the room.
“Before she entered, she told me from the forward galley that our position data was drifting based on timing differences she saw on the cabin moving map.”
Jenna stared.
“The passenger map?”
“Yes.”
Leela almost smiled.
The moving map had been receiving one of the corrupted data channels.
It was a clue.
A simple one.
Jenna turned toward Leela.
“You diagnosed a flight-control problem from a passenger display?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I noticed a discrepancy.”
“And from there you somehow understood the aircraft architecture.”
Leela folded her arms.
“You keep circling the same question.”
“Because you refuse to answer it.”
Leela looked at her sister.
“You never asked politely.”
For the first time, Jenna’s composure cracked.
Jackson closed his eyes briefly.
“Leela.”
She stood.
“Am I suspended?”
Harold nodded reluctantly.
“Until the inquiry concludes.”
“Then I assume we’re finished.”
The union representative stood with her.
Jenna spoke.
“One more thing.”
Leela stopped.
“We will need access to your company-issued tablet and personal crew communications.”
“No problem.”
“And any technical materials you accessed before Flight 312.”
Leela looked slowly over her shoulder.
“What makes you think I accessed technical materials?”
Jenna paused.
Too long.
Leela noticed.
So did Captain Bishop.
Jackson did not seem to.
Jenna recovered.
“You demonstrated unusual knowledge.”
“That isn't evidence.”
“No. But it raises questions.”
Leela held her gaze.
“You should be careful which questions you ask.”
Jenna smiled.
“Why?”
“Sometimes people answer them.”
Leela left.
Jackson followed her into the hallway.
“Leela.”
She kept walking.
“Leela, stop.”
She did.
The hallway was empty.
He approached.
“I know you’re angry.”
“Good start.”
“Jenna is doing her job.”
Leela stared at him.
“Of course.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she returned three weeks ago and somehow every sentence out of your mouth now begins with Jenna.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“She’s head of flight safety.”
“She is also your ex.”
Jackson lowered his voice.
“Not here.”
Leela laughed once.
“Exactly.”
His expression hardened.
“We agreed.”
“No, Jackson.”
She stepped closer.
“You asked. I agreed because I believed our marriage was something you protected privately while keeping work separate publicly.”
“It is.”
“Yesterday your first officer asked when you were going to divorce me for Jenna.”
Jackson went still.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
“He was joking.”
“You didn't correct him.”
“I told him to mind his business.”
“You could have said, ‘My wife is not a joke.’”
He looked away.
That hurt more than she expected.
Leela continued.
“You could have said, ‘Jenna is my colleague.’ You could have said, ‘I love my wife.’”
“Leela—”
“You said nothing.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“I didn't want to expose us in a hallway.”
“No.”
Her eyes burned.
“You didn’t want to embarrass Jenna.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then prove it.”
He looked at her.
She waited.
One sentence.
Three years of marriage could have fit inside one sentence.
Tell them now.
Tell one person.
Tell the receptionist.
Call a meeting.
Do anything.
Jackson remained silent.
Leela nodded.
“There it is.”
She walked away.
This time he did not follow.
At 10:40, she entered the underground parking garage.
Her phone rang.
Private number.
Leela answered.
“Yes?”
A woman’s voice spoke.
“Dr. Voss?”
Leela stopped.
Nobody at Skycross called her that.
“Who is this?”
“Elizabeth Monroe. General counsel for Aerodyne Systems.”
Leela’s posture changed.
“What happened?”
“We received an acquisition request this morning.”
“For what?”
“Your patents.”
Leela looked back toward the Skycross elevators.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and twenty million dollars for controlling rights to the VOSS Sentinel architecture, plus a personal consulting package.”
Leela closed her eyes.
“Buyer?”
A pause.
Then:
“Skycross Airlines.”
Leela almost laughed.
Her husband’s company had suspended her at 8:19.
By 10:40, it was offering hundreds of millions to hire the expert they did not realize they had just thrown out of the building.
Elizabeth continued.
“There’s another issue.”
Leela’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“They sent us part of Flight 312’s corrupted event file for review.”
Leela straightened.
“And?”
“This wasn’t random failure.”
The garage suddenly felt colder.
Elizabeth lowered her voice.
“Someone injected a maintenance-level command into the aircraft network before departure.”
Leela gripped the phone.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“And Leela?”
“What?”
“The authorization token is registered to Skycross Flight Safety.”
Leela looked toward the elevator doors.
May you like
Upstairs, Jenna Carter was leading the investigation.
And somebody had just used Jenna’s department to sabotage Flight 312.
