There are benchmarks in everyone's life. Resting places. Places from where one can see staggering differences between life as it was before that point and life afterwards. Places where the prefixes "pre" and "post" have significant meaning.
Alone, in my room with the dark curtains and no light, I thought that the day I gained my mental powers was the most significant dividing point in my life.
I was wrong.
--Daria Morgendorffer, Diary Entry
Daria thought that the best thing to do would be to scream for help. But who could help her?
Call the stewardess? Say, "excuse me, but there's an assassin on board this airplane, could you have security escort him off?" Ask that he stand up, turn over the gun? Inform the victim with a private message, "oh by the way, you might be shot and we might be plummeting to our deaths afterwards, just though you'd want to work on your will?"
The thoughts of "who" and "why" were not foremost on Daria's mind. Not only could very bad things start happening, there was no where to run to avoid it all, and no way to take Jane (or Quinn) with her.
The thought that she could do nothing, just let it happen and hope for the best afterwards, crossed her mind. That wasn't a comfortable thought. If there were a hell, she might have to answer to a hundred aggrieved passengers if they all died.
And in a few moments, a man would calmly reach up to the call button and call the stewardess. Shots would ring out. At least two people would die.
Daria decided to act.
Jane.
Jane turned to her.
In a few seconds, a man will raise his hand. He will push the call light overhead. That means he has a gun, and he intends to stand up and fire. I want you to take the gun away from him.
Jane looked puzzled.
What do you –
Someone near the entrance to business class calmly pressed the button to call the stewardess. He began to unbuckle his seat belt.
JANE NOW DO IT NOW NOW NOW NOW DO IT NOW
The man stood up with urgency.
Jane and Daria were the first ones to notice it.
The gun.
Jane acted immediately. She hadn't even had the time to undo the seat belt. She put out one hand, and concentrated.
Other passengers gasped as they saw the gun.
They saw the gun quaver, as it were on a fishing line. The firearm lept out of the surprised owner's hands, flew on a straight line across the room, and right at Jane Lane. She grabbed it.
The safety was off. The force of the impact into Jane's right hand and the magnetic energy jostled the trigger pull, which had been adjusted as to not require much pulling force.
A hole punched through the roof, with a loud bang and Jane immediately dropping the gun, which dropped to the floor.
People began to scream. The man who had the gun looked for escape, in the same desperate situation Daria was in.
Another shot rang out! Another man had a gun. It was the first man, the man whose thoughts had been intercepted by Daria. A hole was punched over the window where Daria was sitting. If the shot had been two inches to the right, Jane Lane's head would have splattered across the closed plane window.
Before Daria could act, or call for help, Quinn acted on her own. She grabbed the seat belt, flipped it open as if with a practiced hand, and half stood and half fired.
An arc of electricity hit the gunman square in the chest. Quinn sprayed him, rapidly, hoping that he would go down. She hesitated. She had read that 100 volts of electricity was enough to kill someone. She was going way above 100 volts, or at least, she thought she was…she had burnt out a few volt-ohm meters she had swiped from Ms. Barch's class trying to regulate her power more precisely.
Two things happened: the gunman dropped the gun and sank to the seat in a heap, a loud cat-like yelping noise escaping his lips as he finally collapsed.
And the two windows on his side of the plane promptly exploded.
The air began to be pulled out of the cabin before anyone else could think or act.. Papers, cups, anything not nailed down began to swirl about the cabin in the eddys of tiny whirlpools before sailing out the window.
Oxygen masks began dropping from the roof of the cabin. And the passengers, trapped in their seat belts, exploded in a chaos of screams, cries, and the sheer terror of impending death.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDD HEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPPP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DEATH SWEEEEEEET JEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSUSSSSSSSSSS SAAAAAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The blood began to drip from Daria Morgendorffer's nose. A riot! A riot in her head with Chinese firecrackers going off!!
"Daria? Daria…!!" Jane reached for her friend, who slumped forward.
:: Don't let it overcome you. Concentrate. Take control of the fear. ::
"Uhhh!!" Daria coughed as Jane slid the oxygen mask over Daria's head. Was it her voice in her head? Or someone else's?
Daria would scream back.
WOULD EVERYONE ELSE PLEASE SHUT THE HELL UP RIGHT NOW?!?
In three seconds…
…complete silence. And stunned passengers.
Quinn stood up, the oxygen mask over her head, her voice muffled. "Daria…Daria…!"
What?
"Don't shout! I…uh…." Quinn whispered. "I think everyone heard that one!"
Daria undid the buckles and stood up, nose still bleeding.
May I have everyone's complete attention? Thank you. Some bozos with guns were about to make a scene. The scene has stopped, but my sister has unfortunately sucked out all the breathable air in the cabin. You are all to sit exactly where you are and don't get out of your seats. Trust me, your prayers to your ignored deity are simply giving me a headache. Trust the nice pilots behind their protective armoured door to land the plane safely. Thank you, and we hope you have enjoyed flying TransSonic Airlines.
Daria took off the mask. "Will the air marshal on this plane please stand up? We don't need any more heroes on the plane?"
No one stood.
"I already have a splitting headache and I don't care to read anyone else's mind today. If you make me do it, someone's going to get an electric handshake."
Finally, a middle aged man stood up. "I'm the Air Marshal. Now, who the hell are you?"
"There's a third assassin on this plane. I read "a Brit" who was going to go to business class during the chaos and shoot Russell Stark. You didn't see anyone leave to change seats?"
"What I saw, I saw in five seconds."
"Nobody left. We're all here!" said one of the other passengers.
At that moment, the plane's lights began to flicker. The plane made a strange noise, like a whale song.
"That's not good," said Jane, taking off the mask.
The lights in the plane went off.
"Very, very not good!!"
If anyone in here screams, I'll KILL THEM!! The passengers remained quiet.
Quinn let a few ambient sparks light up on her hands. An eerie blue glow diffused through the darkened cabin, illuminating the faces of the terrified passengers.
"Quinn, I think with that oxygen bag strapped to your face, you don't want to do that."
Jane looked at Quinn. "I'm surprised you didn't blow up the plane!"
"Eep!" Quinn's light went out. There was nothing heard but the rushing sound of air outside.
"We can't stay here or we'll suffocate!" said Daria, grabbing the bloodied oxygen mask for another whiff. She suspected it was a rebreather mask, which meant that there was a real danger of Daria, Jane, and Quinn passing out after all their activity.
"Excuse me!"
A man stood at the entryway to the business class. He was bald and freckled, and wore dark thick square rimmed glasses. A short white beard with gray-streaked red hair completed the someone nerdy picture.
"I'm Russell Stark! If you don't mind the suggestion, my young friends, I think we should see if the pilots are all right! And if anyone else pulls out a gun, ladies and gentlemen…let them have it!"
Daria, Quinn, and Jane found their way up the walkway to Stark. They found themselves in the more spacious business class, and walked up to the pilot door.
"Hello? Anybody home in there?" said Jane.
Daria concentrated. She began to feel dizzy.
"I'm…I'm not reading…."
The world turned into pudding. Daria slumped suddenly to the floor.
Stark grabbed Jane's shoulder. He pointed at Quinn. "You. Help her, get her some oxygen. You – " he said, ruddy finger pointed at Jane, " – help me with this door. It's a armor deadbolt lock. I don't suppose you have a can opener with you."
"Mister – I am a can opener!" Jane put a hand to the door, letting the insides of the door send little metallic tingles to her hand, giving her an idea of the door's inner mechanisms. She began taking the hints she was receiving and began twisting and pulling, hopefully from inside.
The door opened.
Jane and Russell Stark looked inside the pilot's cabin. The pilot and co-pilot were unconscious.
"Okay," said Jane, "I don't suppose you have three parachutes. I'll let you ride on my back!"
Stark climbed to the pilot's seat. He undid the pilot's belt, and began pulling him out of the chair. Jane gave what little help she could. Finally, Stark made it to the chair and grabbed the wheel.
"Wonderful. Nothing's working properly." He put on the headphones and began to read the instrument panel. "I don't think we'll fall out of the sky just yet. But we are losing altitude and that's clearly not a good thing! We have about five minutes to land this plane, hopefully in only one pieces. Can you or your friends make planes land?"
Jane shook her head.
"Hell. Then it's up to me." Stark flipped up the microphone and twisted the radio dial to its emergency frequency. "Mayday! Mayday! This is Russell Stark! Come in, any airport, please respond!"
" This is Provo Municipal Airport. What is your aircraft and the nature of your emergency? "
"I am the unwilling pilot of a 780 LeadJet Airbus with over 100 terrified passengers. Some windows of the craft have ruptured and the oxygen bags have dropped. Pilots are either unconscious or dead. I need to land this airplane and land it the easy way!"
" Roger, 780. Give us your altitude, heading and airspeed. Can you fly?"
Stark communicated the indicators rapidly to Provo Municipal Airport. He turned to his companion. "Young lady, what's your name?"
"Jane. Jane Lane."
"I have about five minutes to land this plane. I expect it won't be a pleasant landing. You might want to make sure you and your friends are strapped down."
Jane turned out of the cabin. Two men in first class were sharing their oxygen with Daria and Quinn. A flight attendant was holding Daria up in a sitting positon.
"Holy heather!"
Jane ran back into the flight cabin.
"Well, Jane, it looks like this plane doesn't – want – to drop its landing gear!"
Stark grabbed at two red levels between the seats.
"Manual deployment isn't working! The damned lever won't budge!"
Jane reached over and began pulling at the levers herself. They were stuck in the locked position.
"Oh, boy…." Jane looked down. The little ants were starting to look like cars.
"We're losing altitude rapidly. If I manage to keep control of this, belly up won't be the nicest way to land. There should be a fold-out seat near the back of the cabin. Unfold it and strap yourself in!"
Jane turned to look for the seat. Then suddenly, she had a thought.
"What are our chances if you can't get the landing gear down?"
Stark laughed bitterly. "How does 'massive fireball of doom' sound?"
"And if you can?"
"Then we hope the brakes work. We might go off the edge of the runway, but the plane will come to a stop…eventually!"
Jane got out of the seat. She crouched down, and grabbed both of the manual deployment levers.
"Concentrate…" she told herself. Something had to be caught, or jammed, or disconnected, or something. She began to feel something, but she didn't know what it was. The system was far too complex to make heads or tails of.
Jane looked up and outside the window. In the far distance, Jane could make out the Provo, Utah air strip.
"Forget it! Grit your teeth and hold on to your fillings!" And with that, Jane gritted her teeth and using her magnetic powers, grabbed a lever with each hand and began to throw her weight backwards.
How heavy are these things? There was a lot of resistance. The levers only moved slightly. Jane concentrated all of her imagination and force backwards, pressing, pressing, ever pressing with the force of her might inside the aircraft.
A groaning, angry cracking sound could be heard. The levers slowly began to move down as the sweat rolled down Jane's nose. Outside the plane, the wheel well doors opened and the gear began to lower.
"Here we go!!" shouted Stark. "Landing time!!" Jane saw the firetrucks on the runway. Unable to strap herself in, she hugged the back of the copilot's seat, and prayed that whatever they could do would be enough.
(la la LA la la)
The wheels hit the runway and the plane rocketed down the painted, wide, straight road.
Stark hit the brakes and the machines inside the plane roared to life against their wills. Jane almost let go of the seat when she felt the impact of ground against plan. The passengers had resumed their screaming, but Daria was not awake enough to hear it.
The plane rocketed down the runway. The tires, under incredible strain, began to give way, blowing out in loud explosions, one by one, which shook the cabin even further.
Tons of metal began to squeal down the airway, red fire engines in hot pursuit.
"Are we stopping?!" Jane shouted.
"We're going to hit the overrun!! Hold on!!"
The plane crossed the end of the runway and traversed the overrun, an area of wet, sandy ground. The mere act of hitting the overrun seemed to be a signal for the craft to relax and stop its shaking.
A child's toy rolled down the walkway, bouncing once, twice, then coming to a complete stop.
The plane had stopped. It was at that time that one of the overhead bin locks decided to crack, dumping out luggage and causing more screaming among the passengers.
Jane opened her eyes. "Is that it?"
Stark opened his eyes. "Either that, or we're dead, and I'll take either one!" The older man immediately released his seatbelts.
As the two left the cabin, the flight attendants were already up and trying to calm the passengers. It was time to prepare the deplaneing procedures. Outside, one could hear the airhorns of fire engines and the squealing sirens of ambulances.
Quinn looked at Jane and Stark with wide open eyes. "Daria's not awake yet!"
Stark bent over, palpating her neck. "She's alive. She's probably just exhausted. It's probably better that she's asleep. Our landing was the easy part of our little trip today."
He looked at Jane and Quinn. "Thank you. Thank all of you for what you've done. I'm going to find some way to make this up to you!"
"Uh," said Quinn, "don't mention it!"
"It might be too late for that. You might not survive what comes next without my help!"
Stark flipped open his cellphone.
"What comes next?" asked Jane.
"The media frenzy." He turned to Quinn and winked. "That's not Scots blood, is it?"