Maya turned to Captain Anderson, who was listening in stunned amazement.
“Captain, US fighters are 12 minutes out. You need to keep following their instructions, but slow everything down. Make your descent slower. Take longer to change direction. Buy us time.”
Anderson nodded. His respect for this extraordinary child was growing with every second. He began making subtle adjustments, slowing their compliance just enough that the hostile pilots would not notice immediately.
Maya returned to the radio.
“Huntress, compliance is being delayed tactically. What’s the probable objective of the hostiles?”
“We believe they’re trying to force you to land at an airstrip in northern Mexico. Intelligence suggests a kidnapping scenario. High-value passengers on your flight that we’re just now identifying. Maya, I need you to look at the fighter on your right wing, 9:00 position. What do you see?”
Maya pressed her face to the cockpit side window, studying the J-10 carefully.
“2nd fighter, 2-seat variant. Front seat has active pilot. Back seat appears to be—wait. The back-seater is wearing different equipment, not a standard flight suit. Looks like civilian clothes under a harness.”
“Maya, that’s probably the hijack coordinator, not a military pilot. He’s directing this operation. The J-10 pilots are likely hired mercenaries. This changes everything. When our F-22s arrive, they’ll need to know which aircraft to prioritize.”
Maya’s mind raced. Her grandfather had taught her about tactical priority.
“Huntress, recommend F-22s target the lead aircraft first. He’s the flight leader, most experienced. Taking him out psychologically impacts the others. The coordinator and the 2-seat trainer will panic without military leadership.”
“Negative, Maya. We can’t shoot them down. Too much risk to your aircraft from debris and explosion. F-22s will force them to break off with intercept maneuvers, but your tactical assessment is correct. Lead aircraft is priority.”
Captain Anderson interrupted. “The lead fighter is signaling us to descend faster. They’re getting suspicious.”
Maya thought fast, drawing on every tactical scenario her family had drilled into her.
“Captain, do what they say, but make it look like you’re having control problems. Descend roughly, like you’re fighting turbulence or mechanical issues. Make them think you’re struggling, not stalling.”
Anderson immediately began making the descent rougher. The aircraft shuddered slightly. The nose pitched up and down as if fighting control problems.
The hostile fighters maintained position, apparently buying the deception.
“Huntress, how long now?” Maya asked.
“8 minutes. Maya, you’re doing amazing. Your grandfather would be incredibly proud.”
Maya felt tears in her eyes, but blinked them away. Fighter pilots did not cry during tactical situations. That was 1 of the first lessons her grandfather had taught her.
The radio crackled with the hostile voice again.
“United 889. Your descent is unacceptable. Stabilize immediately or we will fire warning shots.”
Captain Anderson looked at Maya with wide eyes. Warning shots meant they were getting desperate.
Maya pressed the military frequency button.
“Huntress, hostiles are threatening warning shots. They’re losing patience.”
“Acknowledged, Maya. F-22s are going supersonic. 6 minutes. Tell Captain Anderson to stabilize the descent. We can’t risk them actually shooting.”
Maya relayed the message, and Anderson smoothed out the descent, returning to steady compliance. The hostile fighters settled back into formation, apparently satisfied.
“Maya.” Colonel Roberts’s voice came through softer now. “I need to tell you something while we have time. I was with your grandfather on his last combat mission before retirement. He talked about you constantly. Said you had the instincts of a fighter pilot. That you’d be the best of the Carter legacy. He was right.”
Maya’s voice was small, young for the first time in the crisis. “Does grandpa know what’s happening?”
“We’ve notified him. He’s on the line at command center. He wants you to know he loves you and to trust your training. And, Maya, he says to remember what Hawk always taught you.”
Maya smiled despite the tension. She knew exactly what her grandfather meant.
When everyone panicked, Hawk stayed calm. When the situation looked impossible, Hawk found a way. When the mission was critical, Hawk never failed.
“That’s right, Maya. And you’re Hawk’s granddaughter. You’ve got this.”
The next 5 minutes felt like hours. Maya monitored the hostile fighters, feeding continuous updates to Huntress. She kept Captain Anderson calm, explaining what was happening, helping him understand why they needed to maintain this dangerous game.
The passengers in the cabin were terrified. Some were whispering. Some were crying. Some were praying. The flight attendants had told them there was a situation, but could not give details.
Nobody knew that their lives depended on a 13-year-old girl in the cockpit, calmly coordinating their rescue with military precision.
