Marcus understood why.
Flying a fighter did not magically make someone qualified to command a wide-body passenger jet. The systems were different, the control characteristics were different, the approach speeds were different, and Marcus had no intention of pretending otherwise. What he did understand better than almost anyone aboard was how aircraft behaved after systems stopped behaving the way designers intended.
“I’m not here to replace you,” Marcus said. “You know this airplane. I know damaged airplanes. We work together.”
Foster looked at him for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
That single word changed everything.
Foster contacted Shannon while Marcus examined the information available. The hydraulic pressure was deteriorating steadily, but not yet catastrophically. They still had flight controls, although each movement required more effort and delivered less response.
“What are they giving us?” Marcus asked.
“Runway two-four. Winds twelve knots, mostly down the runway. Weather’s clear.”
“Emergency equipment?”
“Already rolling.”
Marcus nodded.
“Then that’s where we’re going.”
Sarah remained near the cockpit door.
“Should I tell the passengers what’s happening?”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “Enough truth that they stop inventing something worse.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“Tell them the captain became ill, we’ve diverted to Ireland, and they need to remain seated. Don’t mention how much hydraulic pressure we have left.”
“How much do we have?”
Marcus looked at Foster.
Foster swallowed.
“Thirty-one percent on one system. Twenty-seven on the other.”
Sarah understood immediately.
She disappeared into the cabin.
Marcus sat in the cockpit jump seat and began working through the problem with Foster. They reduced unnecessary control movements and planned the descent early so the aircraft would not require dramatic configuration changes near the runway. Every adjustment became a negotiation with the airplane.
For several minutes, things remained stable.
Then they hit turbulence.
The aircraft dropped sharply.
Foster reacted instinctively, pulling back.
“Easy,” Marcus said.
Another jolt struck the plane.
Foster pulled harder.
Marcus put a hand on his forearm. “Don’t chase it.”
“We’re losing altitude.”
“It’s turbulence, not a departure. If you keep correcting every bump, you’ll burn through what’s left of the hydraulics.”
Foster forced himself to relax.
The aircraft shuddered again, then settled.
Marcus nodded. “There you go.”
Foster released a long breath.
“I’ve flown this route forty times.”
“Tonight isn’t the route you’re flying.”
Foster looked at him.
Marcus pointed toward the instruments.
“You’re flying the airplane that exists right now. Forget the one you wish you had.”
That sentence seemed to steady him.
In the cabin, Sarah was fighting a different emergency.
Fear.
Passengers had begun calling family members through the aircraft’s internet connection. Rumors were spreading faster than the crew could control them. Someone claimed both engines had failed, another insisted they were turning toward Iceland, and a third passenger said the captain was dead.
A man near the center of the cabin stood and demanded answers.
Sarah ordered him to sit down.
He refused.
“I paid four thousand dollars for this ticket,” he shouted. “I deserve to know who is flying this plane.”
Colonel Whitmore unbuckled his belt.
“Sit down.”
The passenger turned. “Stay out of this.”
Whitmore rose slowly.