It was a walk of pure, unadulterated shame. The whisper network of the ramp would have his career filated and served before he even reached the parking lot. In the cockpit, silence rained again. Silus Croft finally let out a long breath. "Well," he said, "that was something."
Evelyn slid into the lefth hand captain's seat. The leather felt cool and familiar. She strapped herself in, her movements fluid and practiced. "Silus, my apologies. We're still going to Vanise," she said, her fingers already dancing across the control panel.
"Chloe," she called to the flight attendant, who was peering in, her eyes wide as saucers. "Please call operations. Tell David to send Captain Ramirez to the aircraft. He's on standby. He'll be my first officer.
We'll be wheels up in 15. Yes, ma'am. Right away, Miss Hayes. Khloe chirped, a newfound respect in her voice. Silus Croft watched Evelyn as she began programming the flight computer.
You're you're flying the plane. Evelyn looked up, a small, weary smile on her face. Of course, I'm a pilot, Silus. It's what I do. And unlike Captain Harrison, I've actually read the new maintenance bulletins.
Silus stared at her for a moment. Then a slow grin spread across his face. You know what, Evelyn? That contract, it's back on. But I have one condition.
What's that? Double it. 200 million. And I want a key woman clause. If you're not running this company, the deal is void.
I only invest in excellence. Evelyn nodded. I can agree to that, Silas. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to pilot. As Silas returned to the cabin, Evelyn took a deep breath.
The first fire was out. But now it was time for the hard karma. Captain Harrison's firing was just the beginning. His true downfall was yet to come. The humiliation of the walk across the ramp was a searing brand on Mark Harrison's soul.
Every face he passed, baggage handlers, fuel truck drivers, fellow pilots from netjets and flexjet waiting for their own clients, seemed to be laughing at him. The security guards were silent, which was somehow worse. They guided him not to the main FBO lounge, but to a small windowless administrative office in the back. Waiting for him was David, the director of flight operations. David was a man Mark had always bullied, a ground pounder he'd treated with the same disdain he'd shown Evelyn.
Today, David's face was stone. "Mark," David said, not standing up. He slid a single page document across the desk. "This is your official termination notice. Your severance is voided due to gross misconduct and violation of the company's zero tolerance anti-discrimination policy.
You'll be paid for the hours you've worked this week and that's all. Your health insurance expires at midnight. Gross misconduct. Mark sputtered, his voice cracking. She set me up.
She entrapped me. That's That's illegal. I'll sue I'll sue her. I'll sue the company. I'll go to the FAA.
David leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. The look on his face was one of profound weary disgust. You want to go to the FAA, Mark? Let's talk about that because Evelyn Ms. Hayes was right.
I did pull your training records. He spun his laptop around. On the screen was a list of companyisssued bulletins. This David said pointing to one is mandatory bulletin G700 MB 3422. It was issued last Tuesday at 0900.
It was emailed to all flight crews and flagged as required reading in our system. It's regarding the auxiliary hydraulic pumps O-ring tolerances on the new G700 fleet. Mark stared at the screen. He hadn't read it. He got dozens of those emails.
He deleted them. He figured he'd learn it in the sim. David continued, his voice cold. The bulletin states, and I quote, "Any uncorrected or newly discovered seepage of Skyroll, however minor, from the starboard auxiliary hydraulic pump housing must be treated as a mandatory nogo item pending a full bore scope inspection." The bulletin was issued because a G700 in Dubai had a catastrophic pump failure at 40,000 ft after a similar minor seep was noted.
Mark's blood, which had been pale with humiliation, now ran cold with a different, more primal fear. But but maintenance signed it off, Mark protested weakly. They said it was with intolerance. Yes, they did. David agreed.
Because you, as captain in command, told them it was residual. You set the narrative. You told them it was a spill, not a seep. They trusted you. They trusted your 20,000 hours.
He leaned forward. But first officer Hayes, your unqualified co-pilot, didn't just log it. She photographed it. and she specifically logged it as a seep from fairing seam. Her log entry directly contradicted your verbal report and her log entry is what triggered the nogo flag in the maintenance system. Mark finally understood the call from maintenance hadn't been to clear the flight.
It had been to ground it. He'd been so blinded by his rage, so focused on his phone call to David that he'd missed the second call. While you were busy trying to get a black woman fired for doing her job, David said, his voice a quiet razor. The maintenance supervisor was running up to the ramp to tell you the plane was grounded. You were so busy ending your career.
You didn't even notice you were about to start a federal investigation. Mark couldn't breathe. You didn't just refuse to fly with your boss, Mark. You were actively, illegally, and incompetently attempting to fly a $75 million data aircraft with a known mandatory nogo condition. You were going to fly Mr.
Silus Croft, one of the most valuable clients in the world, across the country in an unsafe aircraft. You were the risk. You were the liability, not her. David stood up. So, by all means, Mark, go to the FAA.