I’m trying to save our lives. I’m not going to leave our safety in the hands of someone who clearly doesn’t. Her words were interrupted by the sound of Kesha’s voice over the intercom, now assuming full command. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Colonel Washington speaking. I will be taking command of this aircraft until we reach our destination.

Please remain calm and follow all instructions from the crew. The authority in her voice was unmistakable. It was not the tone of someone trying to convince or impress, but of someone who was accustomed to being obeyed without question. Even Richard felt an involuntary chill. In the cockpit, Kesha had transformed James Wilson from a paralyzed co-pilot into an efficient assistant.

James, I need you to monitor our fuel and pressurization systems. I’m going to get us out of this storm, but I need accurate information every 30 seconds. Yes, ma’am,” James replied. Her confidence returning for the first time since the emergency began. There was something about Kesha’s presence that made believe that maybe, just maybe, they could get out of this alive.

Then she did something that left James completely perplexed. Instead of following standard emergency routes, Kesha began mentally calculating a trajectory that seemed impossible, flying through the storm instead of trying to get around it. Colonel, with all due respect, this goes against all safety protocols,” James protested, watching the calculations she scribbled on a notepad.

Kesha smiled for the first time since taking command. “James, let me tell you something. In 2018, I was leading a rescue mission in Afghanistan when our aircraft was hit by surfaceto-air missiles. Two engines failed, the navigation system was destroyed, and a sandstorm reduced visibility to zero.” She continued flying as she spoke, her hands moving over the controls with mesmerizing fluidity.

The manual said to eject and abandon the mission, but there were 17 wounded soldiers depending on us. So, he did exactly what he’s doing now. He threw the manual out the window and trusted his experience. And what happened? I brought them all home. All 17 of them. Her words carried a weight that made James understand he was in the presence of someone truly exceptional.

Sometimes, James, following the rules kills people. Knowing the rules well enough to break them at the right time is what separates mediocre pilots from pilots who save lives. At that moment, the cabin door swung open. Richard Blackwood had managed to convince a flight attendant to let him through, claiming he had relevant experience to assess the situation.

This is utter madness, he declared, observing Kesha’s unconventional calculations. You’re putting us all in danger. I demand to speak to air traffic control immediately. Kesha didn’t even turn to look at him. Mr. Blackwood, this cockpit is no place for tourists. Please return to your seat. Tourist. Richard’s voice rose an octave.

I’ve flown in more private jets than his entire life. I know aviation and what he’s doing is collective suicide. That’s when something interesting happened. Dr. Patricia Chun, chief of neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital, who had remained quiet until that moment, got up from first class and walked to the cockpit.

“Conel Washington,” she said calmly, “I’m Dr. Chun, a neurosurgeon. I worked for 3 years in military hospitals treating pilots with neurological injuries. I can help with Captain Mitchell.” Kesha finally turned around and the two professionals recognized each other instantly. Not personally, but as people who had dedicated their lives to saving others in extreme conditions.

Doctor, it would be an honor to have him with us. The captain is stable at the moment, but we need constant monitoring. Richard watched this exchange with growing frustration. You’re all crazy. This is a conspiracy to kill us. Dr. Chin looked at he with the patience of someone who had dealt with hysterical family members during medical crisis. Mr.

Blackwood, I’ve treated hundreds of military pilots. This woman has the kind of training that no amount of money can buy. I suggest you trust her. Trust. Richard laughed bitterly. Based on what? Her word. It was then that Kesha did something that completely changed the dynamics of the situation. Without stopping flying, she said calmly.

James, please tune to military emergency frequency 121.5 and identify our position to Andrews Air Force Base. Colonel Washington to Andrews base requesting identity confirmation for civil emergency, she said into the radio. The response came immediately. Colonel Washington Spectre, is that really his? This is Commander Rodriguez, military air traffic control.

We confirm his identity. Spectre, you disappeared from radar 20 minutes ago. The entire air force is mobilized looking for him. The cabin fell completely silent. Richard Blackwood turned pale, finally realizing that he had completely misjudged one of the most decorated pilots in American military history. Andrews Air Force Base, Kesha continued, “We have a simultaneous medical and weather emergency.

Captain incapacitated, flying through an unforeseen storm system. Requesting coordinates for emergency landing at the nearest airport with Boeing 747 capability. Spectre, he has top priority. All airspace on the east coast has been cleared for you. We have emergency medical equipment being directed to Baltimore International Airport. Dr.

Chun smiled discreetly when he saw Richard’s expression. Do you know many tourists who have the entire air force mobilized to help them, Mr. Blackwood? But what none of them knew was that this emergency was just beginning. In the next few minutes, Kesha Washington would have to use not only her elite piloting skills, but also secret knowledge acquired during classified missions that even his military superiors did not fully know about.