The screen didn’t show flight data. It showed a live video feed… from inside his own house…
His wife was on the screen, holding their toddler son in one arm and reaching for the thermostat with the other. The timestamp was live. Real-time. Brett’s eyes dart wildly.
“What did you do?” he snarls.
“I reprogrammed the chopper’s long-range thermal cam,” I say calmly, folding my arms. “It’s no longer scanning terrain. It’s broadcasting your home’s interior. From a drone stationed less than fifty feet from your porch.”
“You’re bluffing,” he mutters, but his voice cracks. Sweat gathers on his forehead.
I raise an eyebrow and tap a button on my watch. The screen flickers. The thermal view switches to full color. There’s his family. Safe… for now.
He lunges forward, trying to rip the cable out of the monitor, but I step between him and the console, arm extended like a barrier. “Don’t,” I warn. “I didn’t come here for your family. They’re innocent. Unlike you.”
“You have no idea what you’re messing with,” he growls.
“I know exactly what I’m messing with,” I snap. “Five years ago, you rerouted our coordinates to an unverified LZ. Promised it was safe. We dropped into a slaughter.”
He flinches. “I was under orders—”
“From who?” I demand. “Who told you to sell out Talon?”
Brett doesn’t answer. Instead, he darts to the side and makes a run for the hangar’s side door. But it’s sealed tight. The red light above the frame glows like a siren. No exit.
He turns, panting, cornered now, his eyes darting between me and the Apache behind me.
“You can’t prove anything,” he spits. “No court will believe you. I was given intel, I acted on it—”
“I decrypted your flight logs,” I say, pulling a second folder from my inside pocket and tossing it on the floor. The pages fan out—copies of encrypted orders, reauthorization stamps, comm logs. “Your coordinates didn’t come from Command. They came from a private sat channel traced back to Lockridge Defense. You were on their payroll the entire time.”
He stares at the papers like they’re radioactive.
“I didn’t know they’d all die,” he whispers.
“Maybe not,” I say. “But you knew there’d be an ambush. You knew we’d walk into hell.”
He doesn’t respond. His silence is the loudest confession.
I take a slow step forward. “Seventeen of my brothers and sisters burned alive in that canyon. You sat back in a bird two klicks out, claiming comms failure. I watched you circle overhead while we screamed for backup.”
His lips tremble. He finally lowers his gaze. “They said they’d make it quick. Just a scare. I didn’t know—”
“They lied to you, Brett,” I interrupt. “And you believed them because they offered you more than a government paycheck.”
He drops to his knees, hands raised in surrender. “What do you want from me?”
“I want the truth on record,” I say. “I want your voice saying everything. You, admitting it. Not for me. For Talon. For the families who never got answers.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll go to prison—”
“You’ll get justice,” I say. “That’s more than the rest of us got.”
I pull a small recorder from my pocket and set it on the floor in front of him.
Brett hesitates, then reaches forward with trembling fingers and presses the button. His voice is small, but clear.
“My name is Major Brett Halvorsen,” he begins, eyes locked on the blinking red light. “Five years ago, I rerouted Operation Talon to a compromised drop site. I was approached by a third-party defense contractor—Lockridge Defense—who offered me payment in exchange for strategic positioning of assets. I was told it was a drill. A scare. I didn’t confirm with Command. I relayed the orders anyway. I betrayed my unit.”
I close my eyes. The words don’t heal the scar, but they settle something deep inside me.
When he finishes, I walk to the console and open a secure line to Command. “This is Colonel Locke, authorization Echo-Tango-73. Priority redline. Transmitting audio now.”
The line goes silent for a moment, then a crisp voice replies: “Acknowledged, Colonel. Package received. Stand by for ground security.”
“ETA?” I ask.
“Three minutes. Hang tight.”
I turn back to Brett. “That’s the sound of the walls closing in.”
He sinks fully to the floor, face in his hands.
The moment stretches long. The hangar is silent except for the soft hum of the Apache’s idle systems and the occasional mechanical click from the heating ducts above.
I glance at the monitor. His wife is still on screen. She’s making a snack for the boy. They’re safe. Blissfully unaware of the storm about to hit.
I walk over and switch the feed off. Give them their privacy back.
Three minutes later, the hangar doors hiss open. Six MPs in tactical gear file in, weapons holstered, eyes scanning.
I nod toward Brett. “He’s all yours. Charges include treason, conspiracy, and dereliction of duty.”
They cuff him without a word. He doesn’t resist. He just keeps whispering, “I didn’t know,” over and over like a broken machine.
As they haul him away, Command patches back through. “Colonel Locke, your testimony has been reviewed. Effective immediately, your reinstatement is confirmed. Command requests your presence for a full debrief.”
I pause. “I’ve got one last thing to do.”
I walk over to my locker and pull out a dusty duffel bag I haven’t touched in years. Inside is my original Talon flight suit. Still patched. Still bloodstained.
I change into it slowly. With reverence.
When I emerge, the MPs give me a nod. One of them speaks, voice almost reverent. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? From the canyon?”
I meet his gaze. “One of the last.”
He swallows. “It’s an honor, ma’am.”
I give a tight nod and walk past them, straight toward the Apache.
I climb in, flipping switches like muscle memory. The bird hums to life beneath me. The cockpit feels like home.
“Base Sentinel, this is Talon One,” I say over comms. “Cleared for flight?”
“Affirmative, Talon One,” comes the reply. “Welcome back.”
The rotors spin faster. Wind kicks up around the hangar. As the chopper lifts into the air, I don’t look back.
Because the ghosts of Talon aren’t behind me anymore.
They’re flying with me.
And this time, I’m not just Marina the mechanic.
I’m Colonel Locke.
And I’m taking back the sky.
