The Captain Speaking – Part 2: Landing

The flight lasted four hours and a thousand miles of imaginary night. She ran him through it like a long-haul check ride. She made him recite emergency drills, line by line, correcting each slip with a murmured again. She gave him orders and watched them carried out. She ignored him completely for twenty minutes while she flew, and then, without looking round, asked in a quiet voice whether he was comfortable. She reached across the cockpit and set his hands square on his knees, and tilted his chin with two fingers to look at the horizon. It was strict, exact and wonderfully absorbing, and the dark cabin hummed around them.

Every half hour: "Does the First Officer wish to continue?" "Yes, Captain." "Say it clearly." "I do. Thank you."

"The Captain does not require thanks." But she smiled at the windscreen.

Near three, the simulated runway lights rose out of the rain. She brought the aircraft down in a long smooth glide, and the wheels kissed the tarmac, and the engines died.

"Landing," said Annika. "Parking brake set."

She took off the cap and put it on the console. She unbuttoned the jacket. She turned in her seat and looked at him with a quiet warmth.

"Mayday," she said, softly. "Just so you know it's over."

It was her word, and she used it for them both. She unbuckled her harness, climbed across and sat on the arm of his seat, pulling a blanket from her flight bag over his shoulders.

"How are you?"

"Landed," said Rory, with a shaky, happy laugh. "Completely."

"You were a very fine first officer." She kissed his forehead. "The best I have ever flown with."

"Will there be another sector?"

"There is a night flight on the fourteenth." She smiled. "Long haul. I've requested you as my crew. It will be strictly supervised."

"I'll be on time," said Rory.

"You will be early," said Annika. "Cabin crew will brief you."

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