They mocked the woman in seat 22C—until two fighter jets aligned with her window, and a pilot spoke her name in a way that made the entire plane forget how to breathe.

with the ease of someone more familiar with it than anyone expected, and pressed the transmit key.

Her voice, when it came, was calm enough to steady the air.

“This is Night Viper Two-Two. Commercial passenger, row twenty-two, seat C. Requesting acknowledgment.”

Silence.

Then static.

Then a male voice, deep, formal, and unmistakably real beneath the radio continue reading …