Terry, completely unaware of Mary’s fate, was wreaking havoc on the cockpit. Flying from control to control, flipping switches at random, obscuring the pilot’s view of gauges, and eventually finding an opening in the co-pilot’s pantleg at the boot cuff. He jerked involuntarily into a fetal position as Terry added one more maimed male testicle to the already impressive record of her movement toward a gynocentric Utopian future.
The pilot may have survived the furry tornado attacking the cockpit in general, but when his co-pilot curled into a ball and hurled himself on the controls, all was lost. The aircraft pitched wildly and went into a huge parabolic climb.
Satisfied that Chuck Yeager himself couldn’t tame the monster she’d made of the helicopter, Terry zipped back to the cargo hold. She scampered down the cable which was whipping back and forth, and leapt wildly in what she hoped was the direction of the ground.