Ian’s jaw tensed. “The DoD thinks it’s a win. Deploy him under surveillance, embedded with a secondary logistics cell. They think they’re playing him.”
“They’re not.” Mike’s voice dropped. “They’re giving him a second battlefield.”
Ford Cox leaned forward from the screen’s edge. “He’s working it. Already running test signals from inside the black site. His handler missed three packet drops in the last week.”
Ian clicked to the next frame, a blurred overhead of an airstrip. Cargo. A blacked-out convoy. “They plan to move him in seven days. Airbridge out of Stuttgart, then off the grid.”
Mike pushed back from the table and stood. “And you’ve seen these?” He tapped the logs showing Krueger’s past three weeks of facility access: gym, debriefs, laptop terminals. At least five silent hours were unaccounted for every two days.
“I’ve seen them,” Ian said. “He’s laying groundwork.”
Ford exhaled. “We’ve got Bravo watching the Sahel perimeter. But if he slips the leash…”
“He won’t.” Ian’s voice was hard steel.
Mike paced once, twice, then stopped and looked up. “Shannon’s ready. PT signed off. Her pain’s managed. Hunt and Hale say she can take her re-clearance flight this week. The crash was the final flight before the practical test to complete the program. She’d passed all the written qualifications.”
“She’s not cleared for combat,” Ford said protectively.
“She’s a lieutenant in the US Air Force. I won’t stop her.” Mike’s tone softened. “She’s going to take her life back. And maybe, if she wants, she can help us pin this bastard to the wall before he vanishes again.”
“As much as I hate this, we don’t stop her from doing what she wants.” Ian sighed.
RECOVERY CENTER ROOFTOP GARDEN – 1945 HOURS
The sun was just low enough to streak gold across the sky, casting the rooftop garden in long, warm shadows. The breeze smelled faintly of salt and jasmine.
Shannon stood alone by the railing, dressed in a light PT hoodie and running pants, with her hair tucked up and her left leg braced slightly as she shifted her weight. Her body still moved carefully, but it no longer hesitated.
She heard her father before he spoke. It wasn’t his footsteps but the pause in the air he always carried with him.
“Looks different from here.” Mike came up beside her, leaning on the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
Shannon smiled faintly. “Quieter than Novosel.”
Mike nodded. “You did well there.”
“I didn’t think I’d want to fly again,” she said eventually, “not after Mara. Not after the crash.”
“But you do?”
Shannon’s jaw flexed. “I don’t know if it’s want or need.”
Gently, he said, “There’s a difference.”
“I know.” She glanced at him. “Do you think I’m doing this for revenge?”
Mike turned to face her fully. “I think you’re smart enough to know what that looks like. And honest enough to admit when it’s close.”
Shannon folded her arms. “Let me be honest. Part of me wants it to be revenge. Part of me wants to take that bird up and prove to every bastard who doubted me that I’m still standing. And part of me wants to be anywhere but that cockpit.”
“But you’re going anyway?”
She looked down at her hands. “Yeah.”
He watched her for a moment. “You’ve got two doors, Shan.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “One takes you back to a life filled with flight school, a career track, and building it your way. The other takes you toward this fight. The one Krueger tried to pull you into.”
Her voice was steady now. “I’m not going for him. I’m going for me.”
