In the cockpit, the alarms were a choir of chaos. Elias didn't flinch. He didn't think about his wife waiting at the gate in Santiago or the fact that this was his last flight before retirement. He was simply a machine of muscle and memory. He adjusted the trim, felt the engines roar in protest, and forced the nose down to regain speed.
Elias reached over and switched off the master battery. The cockpit went dark.
“Airspeed’s decaying,” his co-pilot, Miller, whispered. Her knuckles were white on the yoke. This was her first trans-continental flight since her father’s funeral, and Elias could see the tremor in her hands. [S9E5] Leave Your Emotions at the Cabin Door
Behind them, in the galley, the lead flight attendant, Sarah, was doing the same. A passenger in 4B was hysterical, screaming about a mechanical sound he thought he’d heard. Sarah didn't comfort him with a hug or a soft word. She stood over him, her expression unreadable, and gave him the only thing that would save him: a set of precise, icy instructions.
Captain Elias Thorne watched the altimeter drop with a sickening lurch. Outside the cockpit glass, the sky over the Andes was a bruised purple, flickering with lightning that looked like cracks in the world. In the cockpit, the alarms were a choir of chaos
Miller swallowed hard, took a jagged breath, and nodded. She stared back at the horizon, her face turning into a mask of cold stone.
The plane hit a pocket of dead air, dropping five hundred feet in a second. Screams erupted from the cabin. Oxygen masks tumbled from the ceiling like yellow plastic ghosts. He was simply a machine of muscle and memory
Should this story lean more into the of the crew, or