The Black Hawk lifted, its frame shuddering as they rose. Vibration rattled through the cabin, familiar and bone-deep. Bagram shrank beneath them, tan buildings turning into pale shapes. Beyond the wire, the land stretched endless, rock and sand, heat rippling across the horizon.
She looked through the open door, one hand drifting to her camera strap. Her fingers curled around the worn leather without thinking.
"First time in-country?"
She turned. A young soldier leaned forward, grin relaxed and easy despite everything beyond the bird.
"Not even close," she said.
He nodded like he'd expected that answer. "Makes sense. You've got that look."
She raised an eyebrow. "What look?"
"Like you've seen some shit and you're not gonna pretend you haven't."
Rachel exhaled, almost a laugh. "Yeah. That's one way to put it."
The helicopter banked. Ahead, a forward operating base took shape, blast walls and wire, tan on tan. Soldiers moved below in purposeful paths.
Rachel rolled her shoulders, letting the weight resettle. New base, new unit. Same war with a different name. She'd embedded with Marines in Fallujah, Army in Mosul, contractors in Syria. SEALs would be different. Everything she'd read about Lieutenant Hayes suggested this embed wouldn't be like the others.
As the Black Hawk descended, heat rose in shimmering waves. F.O.B. Kilo sharpened into focus, Hesco barriers and concrete buildings, long shadows stretching across the ground.
The skids hit hard, jolting through her spine.
Dust surged as she unlatched her harness. She stood, grabbed her gear, and stepped into the wall of heat. Sweat broke immediately. Diesel fumes and dust clung to every breath.
A figure waited near the landing zone's edge. Tall, broad-shouldered, uniform streaked with dirt. His face was hard to read beneath his cap's brim.
"Rachel Parker?" he called over the wind.
She nodded. "That's me."
He stepped closer, offering his hand. "Sergeant Taylor. Welcome to Kilo."
His handshake was firm. She returned it and followed as he turned toward the base's center.
They walked past vehicles baking in the sun. Soldiers moved between buildings in constant flow. At the motor pool, two men argued over a stubborn engine, curses lost under generator rumble. Farther down, others strapped crates into a waiting transport. The rhythm never stopped.
Taylor kept a steady pace. "You'll be in here," he said, pulling open a prefab unit's door.
Rachel stepped inside. Four single cots, four lockers, four desks, a ceiling fan that might work on a good day. Not fancy, but solid. Better than some places she'd stayed.
"You've got it to yourself," he added. "Mess is three buildings down. Showers along the east wall. Learn the timing or you'll wait half your day."
He nodded toward her vest. "Keep that on outside. Doesn't matter how hot it gets. It stays on unless you're lying down."
Rachel gave a short nod, already mentally mapping where her gear would go.
Taylor checked his watch. "Ten minutes. Commander Anders wants you in his office."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Tight leash."
"That's what I told him." His voice stayed flat. "Straight down the main path. Left at the motor pool. Last door on the right. If you get turned around, ask someone who looks like they have time, not someone who looks busy."
Rachel smirked. "You think I'm going to get lost."
"I think you're not military," he said. "Most civilians wander until someone drags them to the right place."
