“Now is not the time for baseless accusations.”

“No,” Gerald said, his voice growing stronger as he stood up from the jumpseat.

“I saw you. You had your medical bag open on the cart. You were adjusting the vent intake.”

Thorne’s face didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

He shifted his weight, his shoulder blocking the exit to the galley.

“Grace,” Gerald said, stepping closer to me, his hand reaching out to grab my arm.

“The doctor… he didn’t try to help anyone. He was watching them fall asleep.”

I looked at the silver canister in Thorne’s hand.

The nozzle was dirty, covered in a dark, oily residue that smelled of the same sweet copper that was filling the cabin.

“Get out of the cockpit, Doctor,” I said, my grip tightening on the flashlight.

“Now.”

Thorne didn’t move.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Grace,” he said quietly.

“We have a schedule to keep.”

The cockpit ceiling speaker suddenly crackled to life with a loud, static hiss.