The moment my hands touched the controls, the world vanished.
Not blackness.
Sky.
Endless sky.
I saw signals like threads of light, radar waves bending, the aircraft’s unstable field twisting in on itself. I saw Voss’s code trying to lock me in, trying to make my mind a switch inside his machine.
Then I heard Mom.
Not through my ears.
Through memory.
Check the locks. Walk through the door.
I pushed back.
The aircraft screamed.
Outside, lights exploded across the hangar. The field collapsed inward, not outward. Panels sparked. The pulse in my head became pain, then pressure, then silence.
When I opened my eyes, Mom was holding me.
The aircraft was dead.
Voss stood below the cockpit, staring up in disbelief.
“No,” he whispered.
Admiral Carter and Aunt June had him surrounded with security personnel who had finally arrived through the facility’s emergency entrance.
Mom climbed down first.
