The cockpit door shut behind Warren Hayes, and the world changed from frightened whispers to alarms.
First Officer Liam Patterson was strapped into the right seat, shoulders rigid, both hands on the controls.
He looked younger than Warren had expected—twenty-eight, according to the quick briefing Jillian had given him—and the strain in his face made him look younger still.
Captain Stevens had been moved back from the instrument panel.
Blood marked one side of his temple where the sudden drop had thrown him forward.
He was conscious now, barely, but in no condition to command the aircraft.
Liam glanced at Warren’s hoodie, then at Jillian.
“This is him?”
“Former Air Force,” Jillian said.
“F-16.”
The airplane rolled several degrees before Liam corrected it.
Warren’s eyes went straight to the instruments.
“What do you need?”
Liam answered without ceremony.
“Autopilot disconnected during the upset.
We’ve got conflicting cautions and I’m trying to stabilize, talk to control and work the problem at the same time.”
“Then don’t do three jobs.”
Liam shot him a look.
Warren pointed toward the controls.
“You’re the pilot flying.
Stay the pilot flying.
Give me everything else you can legally and safely hand me.”
For half a second Liam seemed ready to object.
Then another warning sounded.
Pride disappeared.
“Sit down.”
Warren slid into the left seat only after Captain Stevens had been secured clear of it.
The cockpit felt familiar and completely foreign at once.
The geometry was different from an F-16.
The control response would be different.
The procedures were different.
The weight beneath them was enormous compared with anything Warren had flown in uniform.
He knew exactly what he did not know.
That mattered.
“I am not qualified on this aircraft,” Warren said.
“You call every aircraft-specific action.”
“Understood.”
“What are we certain about?”
Liam took a breath.
“We’re flying.
Engines are producing.
Primary controls responding.
Autopilot is unavailable.
We had a violent upset and Captain Stevens was injured.”
“Good.
Start there.”
Liam frowned.
“Good?”
“Good means we know what’s real.”
For the first time since Warren entered, Liam’s breathing slowed.
Nine years disappeared in an instant.
Not the airplane.
Not the cockpit.
Not the mission.
The discipline.
That came back whole.
