…The airwaves fell silent for a few heartbeats, each second stretching into eternity. The call sign, “Ghost Rider,” was one that had been all but forgotten, buried beneath layers of classified protocols. It was a relic of a covert operation, known only to a handful within the Air Force and the higher echelons of aviation governance. And it was a name that should have never been heard from the cockpit of a commercial airliner, especially not from the voice of a child.
The ground control operator, a seasoned veteran named Tom Hargrove, felt a chill run down his spine. He leaned forward, his heart pounding, as he reached for the direct line to the Air Force command. “We have a Ghost Rider on United 892,” he said, his voice barely concealing his disbelief. “Repeat, Ghost Rider has taken the controls. I need immediate guidance.”
Back in the cockpit, Ava was navigating the vast array of instruments with an uncanny precision. Marcus, still hovering behind her, was caught between awe and confusion. “Ava, how—how do you know what to do?”
