Chapter 2 - The Ghost Protocol
Laura stared at the analog radio speaker in absolute, paralyzing disbelief.
Viper was a secret name she had successfully buried alongside her late husband half a decade ago.
Who is this? Laura demanded, her sharp voice easily cutting through the blaring cockpit alarms.
The digitized voice chuckled softly and maliciously through the heavy static interference.
That identity is not important right now, the voice replied with cold, calculating indifference.
What is incredibly important is that you have exactly four minutes before this plane violently hits the water.
The First Officer stared at Laura with wide, utterly terrified eyes.
Do you actually know this insane terrorist? he asked frantically over the screaming engines.
Laura completely ignored his panicked question and focused entirely on the flashing flight instruments.
The digital altimeter was spinning violently backwards as they plummeted rapidly through the thick storm clouds.
They were dropping out of the sky at a catastrophic rate of four thousand feet per minute.
We need to completely cut the primary electrical power to the flight management computer, Laura commanded firmly.
The First Officer shook his head wildly in absolute, terrified protest.
If we do that, we instantly lose all navigation data and fly-by-wire steering assist, he argued.
We will definitely lose the entire plane anyway if we hit the freezing ocean, Laura shouted back.
She reached aggressively across the overhead panel and slammed her hand against the master avionics circuit breakers.
The entire cockpit went completely pitch black for a terrifying, heart-stopping fraction of a second.
The main digital screens flickered off, leaving them relying exclusively on analog backup instruments.
The robotic, threatening voice on the radio was abruptly cut off mid-sentence by the power loss.
Grab your yoke right now, Laura yelled as she gripped her own metal control column.
Without the rogue computer actively fighting them, the yoke finally yielded to their combined physical strength.
They pulled back incredibly hard with every single ounce of muscle they possessed.
The massive commercial jet groaned terribly under the immense, crushing gravitational force of the sudden upward maneuver.
Laura felt the familiar, heavy weight of G-force pressing her incredibly deep into the captain's leather seat.
The metal frame of the aircraft shuddered violently as it fought desperately against the aerodynamic stress.
Slowly, the mechanical analog horizon meter began to level out to a safe position.
They managed to pull the nose up just as the dark, churning waves of the Atlantic appeared directly outside the windshield.
The First Officer let out a massive, trembling gasp of relief as the plane stabilized in a level flight path.
We actually did it, he panted heavily, wiping the thick sweat from his forehead.
Laura did not relax her tight, white-knuckled grip on the manual controls.
Turn the backup analog radio back on immediately so we can officially call Mayday, she ordered.
The First Officer quickly flipped the analog radio toggle switch upward.
Instead of a professional air traffic control operator, a vastly different voice came through the speaker.
It was not the digitized, robotic terrorist this time.
It was a live, incredibly frantic voice broadcasting directly from the passenger cabin intercom.
May you like
Mommy, Leo cried through the speakers, sounding utterly terrified and alone.
The strange man in the black suit just grabbed me and took me out of my seat.
