Garrett watched the hologram rotate one more time, then motioned to Walcott. "Looks like it is time to head to London, then. Is our transport ready?"

Walcott nodded. "The helicopter is ready to go. We'll fly to the nearby airport where the Antonov is waiting."

Garrett headed out of the room with Walcott following in stride. Over the next half hour they boarded the helicopter, flew to the Da Nang Airport, and had the helicopter loaded aboard their massive airplane. Twelve hours after that they were back in Manhattan, waiting for a commercial flight that Garrett originally protested, but realized the merits of flying undercover.

The two boarded the airplane, a Boeing 747-8I, without problem and soon found themselves seated in First Class, fully at the expense of Garrett. Walcott thanked Garrett for providing the luxurious seating, and Garrett grinned. "I thought it was about time to try First Class. I never travel outside of Economy Plus, but this time I changed my mind. What use is money if you don't spend it?"

A voice came over the speaker announcing the flight would be departing in a few minutes. Garrett and Walcott each fastened their seatbelt and watched the safety brief with only half interest. They each were more interested in who else was flying with them. No one that was within view seemed familiar, friendly or otherwise, but they had to make sure. Garrett reached into his bag and produced a small x-ray scanner. As he passed it over each seat with care, he was relieved to not see anything more harmful than fingernail clippers. He muttered something about clipping his way through the fuselage of the airplane, and put away the scanner. He gave a thumbs-up to Walcott, which Walcott returned.

A friendly voice came over the speakers after the safety brief. "This is your captain speaking. Our trip will take us from Manhattan to London, and we expect it to last for about seven hours. After we have reached cruising altitude, feel free to get up and explore the airplane. We will be flying among the clouds, so see the skydeck for an amazing view. Thank you for choosing Atlas Air as your courier today."

The aircraft began to hum and it slowly accelerated, reaching a speed of over two hundred miles an hour by the time it left the runway. Within ten minutes they were at altitude and the seatbelt light went off. Garrett got up and stretched his legs, while Walcott pulled out several pieces of tech and began to catch up on paperwork. Garrett realized he was also behind, but decided that it could wait until they got to London and settled in for the night.

Walcott’s eyes scanned the display in front of his eyes and said, “Mr. Foster, don’t you have some paperwork to get to? We have a long flight ahead of us.” Garrett waved off the comment and continued his pacing. Walcott had the aisle seat and as he spoke, noticed a rush of movement behind him reflected on his screen. One of the flight attendants was rushing for the flight deck. The way she moved suggested that she wasn’t actually a flight attendant, given that she body slammed the door on her way in. A moment later, there was a audible commotion in the room and the flight the craft suddenly tilted as untrained hands took the controls. 

Garrett caught his balance moments before slamming into another passenger who was up walking. He apologized and rushed to where Walcott was standing. “What just happened?” he asked. Walcott began making his way, hastily, toward the flight deck. “An enemy combatant made her way into the cockpit and seems to have control of the plane. I’ll try and get in there to stop her-” He was cut off by the fist of another attendant, which met his face without causing real damage - he was just shaken. 

Garrett quickly dove back into the aisle where he was seated and grabbed his bag. He produced his freeze-ray gun from it. “About time I tried this thing,” he said as he switched it on. It hummed and a status light came on. It read green. He watched as Walcott grappled with a flight attendant, and carefully aimed at the attendant. Right before he could pull the trigger, he was attacked from behind. The attendant attacking him tried to get him in a choke-hold, but he used her momentum to carry her over and she landed on her back. He tried to shoot her, but she battered his arm away. She kicked at his face, threw herself into the air, and landed back on her feet. Garrett fired a shot which caught her in the chest, causing her to lose her balance. She suddenly realized she could no longer move with speed. Garrett fired twice more, once into her legs and and again into her chest. 

Walcott managed, with a lot of effort, to toss his assailant on her back and rushed the flight deck door. It was, surprisingly, open. He quickly delivered a fist to the side of the terrorist's head, she was knocked out. He shouted back, “FOSTER GET IN HERE!” As he tried to wake up one of the pilots who’d been severely beaten. The plane began to tilt to its right side again, as the controls were left, unattended. Harry strapped himself into the copilot’s seat. He took the yoke and tilted it back to a level position. 

Garrett kicked the attendant for good measure, and rushed the flight deck. He slammed the door behind himself and strapped himself into the pilot’s seat. He looked the controls over and switched control back to the pilot. “Keep a watch on the fuel gauge. I’m hoping the attendants didn’t have time to dump the fuel.” He put on the headset that was still on the unconscious pilot and turned it on. The comm was instantly alive with chatter.

“Flight London One, why are you not responding. This is the United States Navy, please respond.” Garrett hit the comm switch to respond.

“United States Navy, this is Flight London One. We are royally screwed up here. The pilot and copilot are unconscious and the assailants are going to be breaking through the flight deck door at any moment.”

Garrett waited for a response, which took only seconds. “London One, how do we know you are not the assailants?”

Garrett looked over the gauges, trying to fabricate a reasonable, convincing argument. “We saved the damn plane!”

“We’re [i]trying[/i] to save the plane!” Walcott was struggling to keep the craft under control as Garrett argued with a Navy officer. 

“This is Garrett Foster, do you recognize me now?”

“No I do not, Mr. Foster.” The pilot didn’t seem impressed.

“What type of fighter are you flying?”

Garrett listened to static for a moment, then the connection came back. “I am flying a F-29 Thundercat. Why do you ask?”

“Those were developed by Admiral Greg Thompson, right?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss this any further, Mr. Foster.”

Garrett had a moment of relief. “Listen, call Thompson and tell him my name. I know he is on your carrier. He is the only person who operates these fighters. Elite Command authorization code Foster zero, zero, zero, charlie.”

The pilot cursed under his breath. A couple moments later he replied “London One, we just lost contact with our carrier, but we can confirm your code. However you got a code like that, I don’t want to know.”

Garrett shook his head. “Never mind how I got it. How did you lose contact with the carrier? It’s midday, and we don’t have a storm in sight.” He turned to Walcott to get his input.

“I’ve got nothing. Drawing a blank.” Walcott replied to the implication of his input.

 “We could have only lost communication at the source, so something is wrong with the ship,” The pilot replied. “Is everything secure for now up there?”

“As long as no one gets through the door, we are fine. It would be extremely hard to punch a plane to pieces.”