Chapter 4
Eleven years had changed him, but not enough. He still had that smooth, polished face men wear when they have buried other people and slept fine afterward.
His eyes landed on me. For half a second, his confidence cracked. Then he sneered. "You have got to be kidding me."
Riker looked from Anders to me. "Explain."
Anders nodded toward the empty jet. "She may be qualified."
Sloan laughed sharply. "Qualified? She is a civilian contractor with grease under her nails."
I watched him. I remembered a different room. A different uniform. A young pilot's funeral. A maintenance log that vanished. A hearing where Victor Sloan leaned back in a leather chair and said, "Lieutenant Cross panicked. The evidence is clear."
It had not been clear. It had been convenient.
Riker stepped closer. "Answer directly. Have you ever flown a fighter aircraft?"
The sirens screamed overhead. Three jets waited. A pilot was bleeding in the trees.
I looked at the empty cockpit and felt something old inside me sit up straight.
"Yes," I said.
May you like
The hangar went silent.
"Which platforms?"
