primary responsibility, which was completing delivery of the aircraft—not spending time with the sheikh. She reviewed the various features of the cockpit, quoted fuel ratios, aeronautic facts and figures and answered all Alexes’s questions.
When she was satisfied he could handle things, she turned over the controls and rose to head to the back. Fatima was dozing in one of the chairs near the rear.
Rashid looked up from a paper he was reading and watched as she crossed the small space and sat beside him on the long sofa.
“Alexes handling things well?” he asked.
“Of course. He said it was similar to another Starcraft plane he used to fly as backup. What happened to that one?”
“It was the one your father took—they both vanished,” he said, putting aside his paper.
“It’s hard to hide an airplane.”
Just then the plane shuddered and began to dive. Bethanne took a split second to act. She was on her feet and heading for the cockpit when it veered suddenly to the right. She would have slammed into the side if Rashid had not caught her and pulled her along.
Opening the cockpit door a second later, she saw Alexes slumped over the controls. The earth rushed toward them at an alarming rate.
Rashid acted instantly, reaching to draw Alexes back. Bethanne slid into her seat and began to pull the plane from the dive. Rashid struggled to get Alexes out of the seat, but the man was unconscious and a dead weight. He called for Fatima and she hurried forward to help him, trying to guide the unconscious pilot’s legs away from the controls as the sheikh pulled him from the copilot’s seat. Once clear, she helped the sheikh carry him to the sofa while Bethanne regained control of the plane.
In only seconds the jet had resumed a normal flight pattern and once she verified the altitude, she resumed their approved flight track. Glancing around, she was relieved there were no other planes in sight.
“How is he?” she called back. The door separating the cockpit from the cabin had been propped open.
“Still unconscious…most likely a heart attack,” Rashid called, loosening Alexes’s collar.
“Oxygen is by the first-aid kit in the galley,” she yelled back. She contacted ground control. Citing an emergency, she was directed to the nearest airport, in Quraim Wadi Samil, a few miles to the south of their original route.
Glancing over her shoulder, Bethanne could glimpse most of the cabin. Fatima held the portable oxygen tank while Rashid was still bent over the pilot. She shivered, hoping he was all right. What had happened?
In seconds Alexes’s eyes flickered. He spoke in Arabic. Bethanne didn’t understand him, but applauded Rashid’s calm reply. In moments the sheikh had the older man take some aspirin and elevated his legs and feet. His color was pale, his speech slurred slightly.
“Might be a stroke,” he called. “We’ll head back immediately.”
“They’ve directed me to an airport in Quraim Wadi Samil. It’s closer and an ambulance will be standing by,” she responded. She looked back again. “How’s he doing?”
“Breathing hard. His color isn’t good. How much longer?”
Contacting ground control, she requested emergency clearance for the airport and requested information on flight time remaining.
It came immediately. With new coordinates she altered course. In less than ten minutes she saw the small airport. In another ten, they were on the ground and the requested ambulance was already on its way to the hospital with Alexes. The sheikh conferred with the medical personnel before they left, then turned back to the two women standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“You handled that emergency well,” Rashid said, his eyes rested on her.
“I was really scared to death. The plane responded well, however, and here we are. It’s what I’m trained to do. What did the emergency medical technician say? Will he be all right?”
“Too early to tell. We’ll follow to the hospital
When she was satisfied he could handle things, she turned over the controls and rose to head to the back. Fatima was dozing in one of the chairs near the rear.
Rashid looked up from a paper he was reading and watched as she crossed the small space and sat beside him on the long sofa.
“Alexes handling things well?” he asked.
“Of course. He said it was similar to another Starcraft plane he used to fly as backup. What happened to that one?”
“It was the one your father took—they both vanished,” he said, putting aside his paper.
“It’s hard to hide an airplane.”
Just then the plane shuddered and began to dive. Bethanne took a split second to act. She was on her feet and heading for the cockpit when it veered suddenly to the right. She would have slammed into the side if Rashid had not caught her and pulled her along.
Opening the cockpit door a second later, she saw Alexes slumped over the controls. The earth rushed toward them at an alarming rate.
Rashid acted instantly, reaching to draw Alexes back. Bethanne slid into her seat and began to pull the plane from the dive. Rashid struggled to get Alexes out of the seat, but the man was unconscious and a dead weight. He called for Fatima and she hurried forward to help him, trying to guide the unconscious pilot’s legs away from the controls as the sheikh pulled him from the copilot’s seat. Once clear, she helped the sheikh carry him to the sofa while Bethanne regained control of the plane.
In only seconds the jet had resumed a normal flight pattern and once she verified the altitude, she resumed their approved flight track. Glancing around, she was relieved there were no other planes in sight.
“How is he?” she called back. The door separating the cockpit from the cabin had been propped open.
“Still unconscious…most likely a heart attack,” Rashid called, loosening Alexes’s collar.
“Oxygen is by the first-aid kit in the galley,” she yelled back. She contacted ground control. Citing an emergency, she was directed to the nearest airport, in Quraim Wadi Samil, a few miles to the south of their original route.
Glancing over her shoulder, Bethanne could glimpse most of the cabin. Fatima held the portable oxygen tank while Rashid was still bent over the pilot. She shivered, hoping he was all right. What had happened?
In seconds Alexes’s eyes flickered. He spoke in Arabic. Bethanne didn’t understand him, but applauded Rashid’s calm reply. In moments the sheikh had the older man take some aspirin and elevated his legs and feet. His color was pale, his speech slurred slightly.
“Might be a stroke,” he called. “We’ll head back immediately.”
“They’ve directed me to an airport in Quraim Wadi Samil. It’s closer and an ambulance will be standing by,” she responded. She looked back again. “How’s he doing?”
“Breathing hard. His color isn’t good. How much longer?”
Contacting ground control, she requested emergency clearance for the airport and requested information on flight time remaining.
It came immediately. With new coordinates she altered course. In less than ten minutes she saw the small airport. In another ten, they were on the ground and the requested ambulance was already on its way to the hospital with Alexes. The sheikh conferred with the medical personnel before they left, then turned back to the two women standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“You handled that emergency well,” Rashid said, his eyes rested on her.
“I was really scared to death. The plane responded well, however, and here we are. It’s what I’m trained to do. What did the emergency medical technician say? Will he be all right?”
“Too early to tell. We’ll follow to the hospital
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