My fingers brushed the edge of the yellow paper just as it was about to slide over the lip of the dark opening.

I pinned it against the metal track.

As I lay there, looking down into the avionics bay, I smelled something different.

It wasn’t the sweet chemical smell of the cabin air.

It was the smell of scorched wire and burning plastic.

“There’s smoke down there,” I said, scrambling back to my feet.

“The computers are overheating,” Thorne said quickly. “The cooling fans must have failed when the cabin pressure dropped.”

“No,” Malachi said from the left seat. “The avionics bay has its own backup cooling loop. It shouldn’t be smoking.”

“Focus on the flying, kid,” Thorne said, his voice tightening. “Let the adults handle the technical issues.”

“I am focusing,” Malachi said. “Fifteen thousand feet.”

The air was getting colder now, the temperature in the cockpit dropping as we descended through the freezing cloud layers.

My ears popped, a sharp, painful click that made me wince.

“Fourteen thousand,” I read. “Speed is holding at two hundred and eighty.”