"Twelve degrees."
"I'm dropping like a stone, Harry. Tell them to ease up on the brake. Bannister, do you hear me? Bring them in or they'll tear off. This is not flying, anymore." His voice sounded as if he was having difficulty breathing.
"Harry," he called.
They held the brakes at twelve degrees, of course. The calculations dictated that. They tore away in fifteen seconds.
"Bannister! They're gone," Dennis shouted. "They're gone, Bannister, you butcher. Now what do you say?"
Bannister's face didn't flinch. He watched the controls steadily.
"Try half-degree rudder in either direction," I said.
Bannister looked at me for a second. "His direction is vertical, Captain. Would you attempt a rudder manipulation in a vertical dive?"
"Not a terminal velocity drive, Bannister. He said it's not flying anymore. Lord knows which way he's falling."
"So?"