It's not a big deal. We're in a hurry. My wife wants the window. End of story. William, the flight attendant, intervened, his voice trembling slightly.
Sir's mom, I can't ask another first class passenger to move. Her ticket is for 1A. Catherine's eyes narrowed into slits. She saw Emily's tablet, the cashmere, the quiet confidence, and it enraged her. It was a picture that didn't compute with her worldview.
In her mind, the woman in 1A should have been grateful, apologetic, and gone. "Fine," Catherine hissed. She unclipped the top of her designer water bottle, and then with a theatrical, "Oh, whoops!" She tripped, sending a cascade of alkaline water directly onto the plush upholstery of seat 1A. Right onto Emily's left side.
Emily didn't flinch, though the water was cold against her leg. She simply watched as Catherine feigned a moment of shock. "Oh my goodness, look at that. The seat is soaked." Catherine announced triumphantly.
Well, you can't possibly sit there now. How awful for you, William. This passenger needs a new seat. This one is ruined. She then did the unforgivable.
Before Emily or William could react. Katherine Harrington grabbed Emily's small leatherbound briefcase from the floor space, tossed it into the aisle, and slid into the dry part of seat 1A, pushing. Her body against the window. There, she said, buckling the seat belt. I'll just sit here out of the way.
Mark, you take my seat. She she waved a dismissive hand at Emily who was now standing. Can go. William was speechless. The other first class passengers were watching a few filming.
This was no longer a microaggression. This was a hostile takeover. Emily Vance stood in the aisle of the A3 Tornado, her gray cashmere pants now dark with water. She looked at Katherine Harrington, who was pointedly staring out the window. She looked at Mark, who had a smug, "What are you going to do about it?"
Look on his face. She looked at the panicked William. "Mom." Emily's voice was not loud, but it cut through the cabin like a diamond drill. "You have made a grave error."
She didn't reach for the call button. She didn't argue. She didn't cry. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and bypassed the airlines customer service number entirely. She speed dialed her COO.
"Ben," Emily said, her voice dropping to a calm arctic temperature. "It's Emily. We have a situation on Apex 71 at JFK, gate C12. It's a, let's call it an unstable operating environment. I'm initiating Vance Protocol.
Ground the aircraft. Ben Carter, COO of Vance Aeros Systems, was in the middle of a budget review in a sterile boardroom in Irvine, California. The words Vance Protocol made the blood drain from his face. The Vance Protocol was not a suggestion. It was a contractual mandate, a kill switch embedded in the multi-billion dollar contracts Vance Aeros Systems had with every airline that used their technology.
It was designed for catastrophic sensor failure, potential sabotage, or extreme weather anomalies. It had been used exactly once before when a rogue maintenance crew in Dubai used uncertified parts. The protocol gave Dr. Emily Vance and only Dr. Emily Vance the personal authority to declare any airframe using her technology unfit for flight for any reason she deemed a threat to the systems integrity.