Chapter 4 - FLIGHT 312 FALLS AGAIN
The next morning, Jackson Cole was standing at Gate C17 when Leela arrived.
She stopped ten feet away.
He wore his captain’s uniform.
Four gold stripes.
Dark jacket.
Controlled expression.
The same man who could command a cockpit full of alarms without raising his voice looked as though he had not slept.
“You’re not flying this,” Leela said.
“Neither are you.”
She lifted her crew bag.
“Scheduling disagrees.”
“I had you removed.”
“Jenna reinstated me.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“You might want to ask why.”
Jackson stepped closer.
“Leela, I spoke to engineering. They haven’t confirmed sabotage.”
“Aerodyne has.”
He stared.
“How do you know what Aerodyne confirmed?”
She ignored the question.
“Where’s Jenna?”
“Operations center.”
“Convenient.”
“You think she did this?”
“I think someone used credentials connected to her department.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Leela met his eyes.
“But you keep defending her before anybody accuses her.”
Jackson looked away.
She hated that she still knew what that meant.
He was conflicted.
Not necessarily because he loved Jenna.
Because loyalty was his weakness.
Jackson had grown up in a family where protecting the Cole name came before admitting anyone inside it could be wrong.
Jenna had been part of that orbit for years.
Leela had always been outside it.
Secret.
Private.
Easy to doubt.
The gate agent announced boarding.
Jackson lowered his voice.
“Please don't get on.”
“Are you commanding?”
“No.”
Captain Bishop had requested Flight 312 again.
Jackson was technically there as a management observer.
“So neither of us belongs aboard,” Leela said.
“Exactly.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because yesterday you told me my airline had been sabotaged.”
His gaze held hers.
“You may not believe this right now, but I do listen to you.”
“Eventually.”
He flinched.
Good.
Leela walked past him.
Flight 312 departed Denver at 9:43 a.m.
Destination: Boston.
Two hundred and eleven passengers.
Six cabin crew.
Captain Bishop.
First Officer Daniel Ross.
Jackson in the jump seat.
Leela at the forward door.
For the first hour, nothing happened.
At 31,000 feet, Leela served coffee to a retired couple celebrating their forty-fifth anniversary.
At 34,000 feet, she helped a nervous teenager understand turbulence.
At 35,000 feet, the cockpit chime sounded.
Once.
Twice.
Then three times.
Leela put down the coffee pot.
She knew that pattern.
The cockpit door opened.
Jackson stood there.
“Come.”
No explanations now.
No stay in your lane.
She entered.
Captain Bishop pointed toward the displays.
“Navigation disagreement.”
Leela looked.
Same pattern.
But faster.
The primary position display showed them eleven miles north of their actual airway.
The standby source disagreed by four miles.
Wind vectors jumped.
Ground speed fluctuated impossibly.
First Officer Ross swore.
“Now airspeed.”
One indicator dropped thirty knots.
Another increased twenty.
Jackson stared.
“Pitot issue?”
Leela shook her head.
“No.”
Ross looked at her.
“How can you—”
“Altitude is stable. Engine parameters stable. Inertial acceleration doesn’t match indicated deceleration.”
Bishop looked at her.
“Data corruption.”
“Yes.”
Jackson's eyes shifted toward her.
Not surprise anymore.
Something closer to alarm.
The autopilot disconnected.
A warning sounded.
Captain Bishop took manual control.
“I have the aircraft.”
Leela looked at the maintenance status page.
Diagnostic routine active.
Again.
“Where is that coming from?”
Ross asked.
Leela pointed.
“Maintenance bus.”
“Can we isolate it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
She hesitated.
There was no published cockpit procedure for what she was about to suggest.
Because the aircraft should never have allowed the routine to activate airborne.
Leela said:
“Select standby navigation source only. Then inhibit cross-feed from the maintenance gateway.”
Ross stared.
“That option isn't available in flight.”
“It is if you enter the degraded architecture page.”
Jackson looked at her.
“What degraded architecture page?”
Leela did not answer.
Captain Bishop did.
“Show us.”
She guided Ross.
Three menus.
Protected diagnostic layer.
Manual isolation.
The page appeared.
Ross looked stunned.
“I've never seen this.”
“You weren't supposed to need it.”
Leela pointed.
“Disable Gateway B.”
Ross did.
For two seconds, everything stabilized.
Then every primary display went black.
Passengers screamed beyond the cockpit door.
Emergency lights flickered.
Captain Bishop swore.
“What happened?”
Leela stared.
That was new.
Jackson looked at her.
“You expected something else.”
“Yes.”
“How much else do you know?”
“Not now.”
A backup attitude display remained active.
One airspeed indicator.
One altitude reference.
Enough.
Barely.
Captain Bishop hand-flew.
“Navigation?”
Ross checked the standalone GPS unit.
“Intermittent.”
Leela grabbed the printed route chart.
“Heading zero-eight-seven. Hold current altitude.”
Bishop looked at her.
“How sure?”
“Enough.”
He turned.
The aircraft entered light turbulence.
The cabin erupted with frightened voices.
Jackson watched Leela calculate position using their last reliable fix, elapsed time, wind, and standby data.
“You can do dead reckoning?”
She did not look at him.
“Jackson.”
“What?”
“Stop discovering things about your wife during an emergency.”
His face changed.
Captain Bishop almost laughed despite himself.
Then another alert sounded.
FUEL IMBALANCE.
Leela looked at engine data.
“False.”
Ross checked.
“How do you know?”
“Flow rates don't support it.”
Jackson whispered:
“Jesus Christ.”
Leela turned.
“Go secure the cabin.”
“I’m staying.”
“You are not useful here.”
His eyes flashed.
For once, the sentence went the other direction.
“Leela—”
“Your passengers are scared. You're an experienced captain. Go be visible.”
Captain Bishop nodded.
“She’s right.”
Jackson stared at Leela for one second longer.
Then left.
Twenty minutes later, the aircraft descended toward Omaha under partial instrumentation.
Emergency crews waited.
Leela remained in the cockpit until the runway appeared through scattered cloud.
Captain Bishop landed hard but safely.
The cabin erupted in applause and sobbing.
Leela closed her eyes.
Not relief.
Not yet.
Because the maintenance command had behaved differently this time.
Someone had modified it after yesterday.
That meant the saboteur was watching.
Learning.
Adapting.
When they reached the gate, federal aviation investigators boarded immediately.
So did Jenna.
She entered the cockpit wearing a reflective safety vest.
Her gaze went straight to Leela.
“What did you touch?”
Leela stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
Jenna looked at the dark displays.
“The second failure happened after you manipulated the maintenance gateway.”
“I didn't manipulate anything.”
“You instructed the crew.”
Captain Bishop stood.
“And saved us again.”
Jenna ignored him.
She held up a tablet.
“Interesting.”
Leela's stomach tightened.
“What?”
Jenna turned the screen.
A security log.
User access.
Time stamp.
The maintenance architecture page had been opened using a credential tag.
LEELA.VOSS.
Jackson stared.
Leela did not move.
Jenna’s voice became almost sympathetic.
“You told everyone you had never accessed these systems.”
“I didn’t.”
“The aircraft says otherwise.”
Leela looked closer.
The digital signature was wrong.
Close.
Very close.
But wrong.
Someone had built an imitation.
Jenna continued.
“Yesterday you appeared to know exactly how a mysterious failure worked.”
She took one step closer.
“Today the same failure happens again, and somehow your user identity is inside the avionics log.”
Employees gathered beyond the cockpit.
Investigators watched.
Jackson looked between the women.
Jenna said quietly:
“Perhaps you’d like to explain how an ordinary flight attendant obtained access to protected aircraft software.”
Leela finally smiled.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Jenna had made the mistake Leela had been waiting for.
“You’re right.”
Jenna blinked.
Leela stood.
“I should explain.”
Jackson stared.
Leela took her phone from her pocket and called Elizabeth Monroe.
“Release my identity authorization.”
Jenna frowned.
“What identity authorization?”
Leela looked at her half-sister.
“The one attached to the patents your department has been trying to buy.”
Jenna’s face slowly changed.
Leela continued.
“Tell Skycross their mysterious consultant has accepted the meeting.”
She ended the call.
Jackson whispered:
“What consultant?”
Leela met his eyes.
For three years, he had shared a home with her.
Tonight, he was finally going to meet his wife.
“All of you keep asking who taught me these systems.”
She looked toward the dead avionics displays.
“Nobody did.”
May you like
Silence.
“I designed them.”
