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cars. Erik asked, “You gonna tell anyone what happened with Woody?”

Christina stopped, turned and looked directly at Erik, her icy blue eyes seemingly burning a hole in his. “You’d better hope not, ‘cause you also made some mistakes.”

Erik felt his face redden. “I worked for a long time to get this job and I’d hate to think because of one screw-up I might—”.

She held up her hand. “You’re brand new and still on probation, which means you can be fired for virtually any reason, with no recourse. But your mistake could have caused the number-two engine to conk out. That’s probably why it ran so hot. If it quit we would have really been up shit’s creek.”

Erik began to utter an apology, but she smiled. “No need. You also did Woody’s job. But, I have to weigh everything, just in case Woody noticed, which I doubt. If I write him up…well, you never know what he might say about you. Just be certain to memorize and know all the emergency procedures,” she added, patting him on the shoulder.

Erik thanked her, but wondered if she had already said anything.

.     .     .

While starting her car and without warning Christina’s head began pounding. A sensation of lightheadedness came next so she placed both hands under her thighs and sat on them as if to hold them in place while her breathing became heavy. She considered crying out to Erik, but no matter how hard she tried, no intelligible words came forth. Then, as quickly as they had started, the symptoms abated. She sat in her car confused and feeling drained, unsure of what might happen next but certain her epilepsy was the cause. She finally very cautiously drove the fifteen minutes to her rental pad, pulled into the driveway and switched on the car alarm, recalling David wasn’t there. He was having dinner with his parents and would be spending the night with them. She went right to bed feeling exhausted and awoke the following morning with a slight headache the only remnant. It was still raining lightly so she put up a pot of coffee and turned on the TV. After watching the news for a short time she felt a bit better and called O’Brien. His secretary, Rose answered on the first ring.

“Hello Rose. It’s Captain Shepard.”

“Hi Captain Shepard; Captain O’Brien is awaiting your call. I’ll put you through.”

The Chief Pilot immediately came on the line barking, “How are you Captain Shepard?” Without waiting for a reply he added, “That was one hell of a job you did last night. On behalf of Shuttle Air I wanna thank you.”

“It was nothing. I just did what they train us—”

“Nothing? You were great, taking a potentially disastrous situation and turning it into a routine job.” A wary stirring in her gut said more was coming as O’Brien wasn’t the type to simply bestow a pat on the back. He quickly added, “Were there any specific problems I need to look at?” his tone implying he might know more.

Typical O’Brien she thought, probably referring to Woody. Perhaps he had already been informed about him, although she didn’t think Erik would say anything. Exactly what did O’Brien know?

“Can you be more specific?”

“I’ll be very specific,” he bellowed. “We removed the cockpit voice recorder tape after your plane was towed to the hangar and heard everything. So, I know what Montgomery did, or rather didn’t do. However, your union contract prohibits us from using any information on the recorder for disciplinary purposes so there’s nothing I can do unless you file a formal complaint.” Before Christina could speak he added, “But even if you did, I wouldn’t take any action because like me, Woody’s a former military pilot and otherwise has an excellent safety record. I would simply have the instructor go over the emergency items more in-depth during his next proficiency check ride.” He allowed a moment for his statements to sink in.

Christina figured Montgomery had already called or been to O’Brien’s office and given him his father/son mouth to ass resuscitation sob story, so she was probably wasting her time. “You wanna know why Montgomery screwed up? He was hung over and admitted as much. In my opinion he oughta be placed in rehab.”

“You show me a pilot who says he doesn’t drink and I’ll show you a liar,” O’Brien responded, dismissing her statement. “What I really want to know if anything could have been done to prevent the damage. Was there something your new second officer, Erik Preis might have missed during his preflight inspection, which if had he had noticed would have prevented the problem? Did he mention oil leaks or anything similar?”

“Wait a minute,” she snapped. “Preis helped me while Montgomery just sat there with his head up his hung-over butt. He also accomplished a number of Woody’s tasks in addition to doing his own job. I certainly don’t think that—”

“Let me make this clear,” O’Brien interrupted. “Management is very unhappy about what happened, and not from the standpoint of what was or was not done in the cockpit. What Woody failed to do didn’t cost the airline a dime. But if there was some telltale warning sign it should have been picked up; something which could have been repaired beforehand and that responsibility would fall on Preis.”

“I’m pretty sure if he had seen anything he would have said—”

“But, you’re not a hundred percent certain he would have told you? He’s brand new and there was something about him I didn’t like when he reported here after his schooling. He’s not out of the military, looked very young and I sensed adolescence irresponsibility still running around inside him. Since he’s on probation I can wash him out anytime during his first year. If his performance isn’t up to snuff he could cost us a lot more somewhere down the road. Hell, the engine damage is going to cost Shuttle Air over two hundred thousand bucks and—”

“Like I said, he

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