Now, it seemed there was only one option left: ditching on the water. The cabin fell silent as well, as though everyone understood that they had no other choice. Schiller swept his gaze across economy class again and realized that the dead hijackers might not have been the key players. The one still hiding had not suddenly lost his nerve; he was waiting to make his move after the ditching.
Ditching an aircraft on water was not so easy. First, the landing attitude had to be extremely stable. The slightest error could turn a water landing into a dive. Second, they could not leave the plane immediately afterward. They could not exactly row a boat to shore; they had to wait for rescue.
The question was whether the hijackers or the rescuers would arrive first. In almost any other sea, it would basically be the latter. But in the Tiran Strait, that was far from certain. The rescue teams from the countries around here might not be much different from hijackers.
And if the hijackers came first, the people on the plane would have nowhere to run. Even if everyone were killed, it could easily be disguised as a rescue failure. After all, they were out at sea. A few dangerous waves would be perfectly normal. No airline in its right mind would dare investigate those countries.
Schiller sighed and asked, "How much fuel is left?"
"At most, enough for another three hours of flight," the chief flight attendant said.
The cabin erupted again. With three hours of flight time, they could absolutely head to the Indian Ocean and ditch there. It was far safer than the Tiran Strait or the Red Sea.
"Go to the Red Sea," Schiller said.
Objections immediately broke out throughout the cabin. Schiller could only