Owen had an idea, but first he needed to confirm something with Monica.
"Monica, at what altitude would the bomb detonate if the pressure trigger is activated?"
"I can't give an exact figure. But since it's a nerve gas bomb, if I were the terrorist, I'd set it to trigger between 3,000 and 6,000 meters. That's the optimal altitude for dispersal."
"Is there any way you can delay the pressure trigger? My thought is to let the bomb detonate underwater. That would minimize the spread. At best, nature could neutralize the VX-contaminated seawater in a few hours, at worst a few days."
Monica thought for a moment, then nodded. "I have a way to delay the pressure trigger by about one minute. But no more than that."
Owen did some quick mental math. It was enough. It was risky, but worth the gamble. He picked up the comms.
"Jack, here's the plan. Get the Pentagon to dispatch a transport aircraft. We'll use steel cables to transfer the passengers from the airliner to the transport. Then IQ will delay the pressure detonation by one minute—enough time to plunge the aircraft into the ocean and let it explode underwater. That'll minimize the damage."
As soon as Owen finished, a heated debate erupted on the White House end. About a minute later, President Palmer's voice returned.
"Owen, we'll go with your plan. A transport will arrive in fifteen minutes. Also, give me a rough idea of the detonation zone so I can have our biohazard response teams prepare in advance."
Everyone turned to the pilot. Understanding their looks, the captain pulled up a nearby oceanic map, did a quick calculation, and pointed.
"Here. At our current speed, the target area would be within a 10-nautical-mile radius."
Owen relayed the coordinates to the White House. Now they just had to wait.
"All teams, use this time to inform the passengers. Remember: do not mention the bomb. Say it's a landing gear failure."
Ghost gave the order, and CTU members began briefing passengers in each cabin section. They'd all heard the comms—they knew what was coming.
Just like the pilots, the passengers had been through a lot. Hearing about a technical issue didn't even phase most of them. Compared to being hijacked, a mechanical malfunction seemed almost tame. Many had feared a 9/11-style suicide crash.
"Begin descent…"
Owen issued the command while monitoring Monica's updates. She stood watch over the bomb, keeping her eyes glued to the pressure gauge. Usually, pressure-triggered bombs sound a warning when approaching the threshold, then explode if pressure continues to drop.
With careful piloting, the plane descended from 13,000 meters to 12,000… then 11,000… down to 8,000 meters.
They didn't dare go lower. Fortunately, at 8,000 meters, one minute of freefall would be enough to reach the sea.
With everything in place, the transport plane finally arrived.
When the pilot's voice came over comms, everyone realized a C-130 "Hercules" had pulled into position above and ahead of Flight 343.
"Flight 343, prepare for docking…"
There was no time to waste. The co-pilot opened the rear cabin door. The wind howled furiously, making it difficult to even stand. But soon, they saw someone slowly descending from the Hercules.
Suspended on a steel cable, a man and two large bags were being lowered between the planes—transport on top, airliner below. Inch by inch, he slid down.
"Got him!"
As he reached the door, several CTU members yanked him inside. The two bags were brought in as well. He detached his harness and clipped it to a latch inside the airliner's cabin.
A bridge of steel now connected the two aircraft.
"Package secured!"
Once confirmation came, the Hercules descended and swapped positions. Now the airliner was above, the transport below. Passengers were already waiting in line.
Inside the two large bags were safety harnesses. Passengers simply had to strap in and clip the lock to the steel cable.
Owen briefed each one personally, urging them to "close your eyes," before pushing them out into the air.
Screams echoed through the cabin—but no one fell. The first passenger reached the Hercules safely, prompting cheers from others. Transfers sped up dramatically.
"Owen, we need to pick up the pace. We're low on fuel…"
The pilot's report made Owen frown.
"How long do we have?"
"Roughly thirty minutes."
"Understood."
Owen accelerated the process. They had moved 30 people in ten minutes, but with over 200 passengers, they'd need at least 70 minutes. And they only had half an hour.
"Faster! Faster!"
Owen barked orders to the second wave. Monica and others rushed to prep the third and fourth waves for immediate deployment.
Suddenly—
"No—!"
A scream rang out. Someone had fallen. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the sky.
Everyone clutched the aircraft interior in terror. The jet had hit turbulent air, making it unstable. The unlucky man had been trying to secure his harness when the jolt sent him flying. There was nothing anyone could do.
But the operation couldn't stop.
Aside from that single loss, all other transfers went smoothly. The Hercules was large enough to accommodate all 200+ passengers without issue.
Once the last passenger was transferred, the crew followed: co-pilot, Can Opener, Heartbeat, Monica—and finally, Owen and the captain.
Before leaving, Monica had already rigged the pressure fuse. Meanwhile, the fuel alarm was screaming. The tanks were almost empty. But this was good—less fuel meant a weaker explosion when the plane hit the sea.
Owen and Monica embraced briefly, then slid down the cable together, landing in the Hercules. Cheers erupted inside the aircraft. Everyone had made it.
The Hercules began to climb, turning back toward U.S. airspace.
Behind them, the jumbo jet was now in the hands of the F-15 escort, who would ensure it reached the ocean.
The Hercules climbed higher. They could no longer see the passenger plane. In the distance, it spiraled erratically—its autopilot shut off, control lost—like a drunk stumbling home.
Finally, the aircraft nose-dived into the sea.
Because the fuel had run dry, there was no immediate explosion. The plane shattered on impact—snapping apart and sinking into the ocean.
Then—
BOOM!
A muffled roar echoed behind them. The bomb had gone off underwater.
Immediately, specially equipped aircraft began spraying thickening agents around the explosion site. These neutralized the nerve gas still suspended in the air, forcing it to settle back into the sea.
"Mr. President, this is the F-15 escort. Target has detonated in the ocean. No signs of widespread dispersal…"
The report came in loud and clear.
Owen high-fived Monica. Her rigged delay on the pressure trigger had worked perfectly—the VX gas bomb had exploded below the water's surface.
Smiles broke out all around. The F-15s turned back. On the water, hazmat teams had already begun cleanup. High-temperature incendiary bombs detonated in nearby waters, accelerating the chemical breakdown of VX.
The threat was over.
The mission was a success.
------------------
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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