The weather radar had a wall on it — a big Atlantic storm system stacked up across our track, greens and reds boiling.

Our fuel margin was thin.

The first officer hadn’t moved.

And I was still thinking about a thermos of coffee from the terminal when a new voice spoke from the cockpit doorway.

“Captain.

I need to tell you something.” A passenger, a doctor, called up from the cabin — a steady woman with her sleeves pushed up.

“I examined your first officer.

This isn’t a stroke and it isn’t cardiac.