HOTEL OUTSIDE U.S. AIR FORCE ACADEMY
The motel room smelled like pine cleaner and nerves. Shannon stood by the window in regulation khakis and a plain blue T-shirt, her duffel packed and zipped tight. She hadn’t slept much. Not with her father tossing and turning like a man preparing for war.
He stood by the door now, holding her appointment packet with both hands, like it might vanish if he let go. “Last chance to back out.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite hold.
She shook her head. “I’m not backing out.”
“You don’t have to do this for her,” he said, voice low. “Or for me.”
“I’m not,” Shannon replied. “That’s why we put down McKenna on the forms.”
Mike blinked.
“Mom was a Johnson too. My name. My choice,” she added. “It’s my chance to do it for me.”
His throat worked, trying to swallow. He stepped forward and pulled her into a fierce hug. “I’ll be watching,” he said quietly into her hair. “You know where to find me.”
She pulled back. “I know. But please, not too much. It’s one of the reasons I picked McKenna.”
A knock came, two sharp taps. A Chase Security driver waited outside the door, mirrored shades in place, saying nothing.
Mike stepped aside. Shannon grabbed her duffel, squared her shoulders, and didn’t look back.
FOUR
U.S. AIR FORCE ACADEMY
The SUV designed as an Uber cut north through the Pine Valley landscape, trees giving way to open roads, blue sky stretching high and clean above the Colorado Front Range. She could see the Cadet Chapel in the distance with those jagged white spires climbing into heaven. Now they were covered in scaffolding for renovation. The base looked like a stage. A myth. And she was about to step onto it.
The SUV rolled to a stop. The Chase driver didn’t say goodbye. She got out, boots hitting the concrete. Her name was Shannon McKenna now. The only name they’d know.
Everything happened fast. She handed over her packet. Got processed through intake like a part on an assembly line.
“Full name.”
“Shannon McKenna.”
“Cadet Candidate ID.”
She rattled it off from memory.
Forms. Med checks. Weight. Blood pressure. Gear issued in sealed plastic bags with initials already printed on them. One-size-fits-all promises of structure.
She changed in a locker room that felt colder than necessary. Left her civilian clothes in a bin. Pulled on a gray shirt, blue shorts, and new socks. She Sharpied “McKenna” onto every tag like she was rewriting history. She stepped out, chin up.
Outside, chaos churned with barked orders and cadets herded like cattle. Some trembled. Some were stunned. A few already looked like they regretted everything.
Shannon wasn’t one of them. She’d made her choice. Not her father’s. Not her mother’s. Hers.
ATHLETIC DIVISION, LIMA SQUADRON
The office of CMSgt Kyle Reardon was cluttered with command photos, performance graphs, and a dry-erase board filled with acronyms only insiders understood.
"Come in," he said without glancing up.
TSgt Dante Olivo stepped in, uniform perfect, boots silent.
Reardon looked up. "You’re the new Lima fitness lead. Olivo."
