I promised myself I’d never step inside a cockpit again, until the pilot made an announcement that left 289 passengers frozen in pure terror.

"We need to climb," Miller said, reaching for the throttle levers.

"No," Mara cut in, snapping her hand out to block his arm. "If you push those throttles forward right now, the sudden torque difference between the left and right engine air intakes will stall Engine Number Two. Look at your left intake pressure."

Miller looked down at the engine gauge. The left engine was ingesting supercooled ice crystals, choking its airflow.

"If we can't climb, and we can't stay here..." the First Officer whispered, his voice trembling, "...what do we do?"

"We dive," Mara said flatly.

Both pilots turned to stare at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Are you insane?" Miller shouted. "We just spent three minutes recovering from a dive!"

"You need warm air to clear those pitot tubes and melt the ice on the wings," Mara explained rapidly, pointing out the front windshield. "The freezing level ends at 12,000 feet over this part of the Atlantic. We drop through this weather deck fast, get into the warm air layer below, let the sensors clear, reset the flight computers, and then climb back out."

"That means descending twenty thousand feet blind through a heavy storm cell without computer stability controls!" First Officer screamed. "If we hit clear air turbulence at that speed in Direct Law, the wings could suffer structural failure!"

"They won't," Mara said. She pulled her white linen shirt off her shoulders, tossing it onto the jumpseat behind her, revealing the athletic, scarred black tank top underneath. She stepped over the central console, placing her hands firmly over Miller's hands on the main yoke. "Because I'm going to fly it with you."

Miller looked up at her. He saw the cold, absolute certainty in her dark eyes. He saw the faded 421st Fighter Squadron tattoo on her wrist.

He didn't ask another question. He shifted his grip slightly to make room for her hands on the heavy control wheel.

"Odette," Mara called out over her shoulder without looking back.

The flight attendant stepped up to the cockpit door, her face pale but her expression fierce. "Yes, Captain?"

"Go back to the cabin. Tell the passengers to strap in tight. Tell them it's going to get very rough, very fast, but tell them we are taking this plane home. Do it now."

"Yes, ma'am," Odette said, stepping back and pulling the heavy cockpit door shut.

Mara took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill her chest. Her heart rate, which had been racing at a hundred and twenty beats per minute, suddenly slowed down, dropping into the steady, icy rhythm of combat mode.

"Nose down thirty degrees," Mara commanded. "Pushing throttles to sixty percent power. Executing emergency descent in three... two... one..."