The wind had died down, leaving the December air sharp and still. Carlos Mendez adjusted his phone angle, ensuring his 9,000 live-stream viewers could capture every word. Comments flooded past faster than anyone could read, but the sentiment was universal anticipation. Madison Torres felt her stomach drop.
She'd thought the worst was over when they discovered Naomi actually owned the aircraft. She was beginning to realize the worst hadn't even started. "Michael Davis suspended you from Platinum Air Services," Naomi continued, looking directly at each crew member. "That's one company, but private aviation is a small industry."
"Word travels fast. Reputations matter."
Captain Cain's face was gray. In 30 years of flying, he'd built a reputation for professionalism and reliability. That reputation was his most valuable asset, more important than his pilot's license, more crucial than his accumulated flight hours.
Tyler Morgan was still frantically texting, but his contacts weren't responding. Word was already spreading through aviation networks faster than he could control. Jessica Rivera had backed almost to the terminal building, but she could still hear every word clearly. William Thompson was calculating damage-control options, but Patricia Williams's threat about media contacts had eliminated most of his strategies.
"This phone," Naomi said, holding up the sleek device, "is connected to the Aviation Safety and Professional Standards Database. It's a private network used by aviation companies worldwide to share information about crew performance, safety violations, and professional misconduct."
The APSD was legendary in aviation circles. Created by a consortium of major airlines and charter companies, it served as an industry-wide background-check resource. A negative report in the APSD could end an aviation career permanently.
Carlos Mendez translated for his Spanish-speaking viewers. "Ella tiene acceso a una base de datos que puede terminar sus carreras para siempre."
"When I file a report with APSD about discrimination, harassment, and safety protocol violations," Naomi continued, "it becomes part of each crew member's permanent record. Every airline, every charter company, every corporate flight department in the world will see it."
Madison Torres started crying. Real tears, not the performative distress she'd shown earlier. Her dream of traveling the world as a flight attendant was evaporating in real time. "But," Naomi said, pausing dramatically, "that's not the call I'm making right now."
Everyone froze. If not the aviation database, then what? Naomi scrolled through her contacts and selected a number. The phone rang once before connecting.