Brooklyn opened her eyes and the world was a harsh, sterile white. Beeping monitors and the hiss of oxygen filled her ears and the sharp scent of antiseptic burned her nostrils. Her body ached in every joint, bandages crisscrossing her limbs and the faint metallic taste of blood lingered on her tongue.
She tried to sit up but restraints dug into her wrists. Not soft straps. Metal.
Her stomach sank.
A shadow moved across the room. A man in uniform... three stars on his shoulder. Beside him, the same civilian she had seen at the briefing, his suit flawless, his expression calm.
"Captain Grant." the General Pierce said flatly. "Glad to see you're awake."
Brooklyn's throat was dry, her voice a rasp. "Where's… my squadron?"
The civilian met her eyes with unsettling calm. "They're dead. All of them, including Major Grant."
Her heart clenched. She forced back the surge of grief, clinging to the edge of control.
"We were attacked. The allied squadron..."
General Pierce cut her off. "Enough!" He dropped a file on the bed beside her. "We've reviewed the mission data. Black box telemetry. Communications logs. Medical analysis. All of it points to one conclusion."
Brooklyn stared at him, unblinking. "And what conclusion is that?"
"That you disobeyed direct orders." he said coldly. "That your reckless maneuvers cost your entire squadron their lives."
Her pulse spiked. "That's a lie. You know that's not what happened. The allied squadron turned on us."
The civilian leaned in slightly, his voice smooth as glass. "Captain, there was no allied squadron. The only aircraft in the AO were yours. The black box shows you engaging friendly units. And when we pulled your blood sample after the crash…"
He slid a page across the bed. "We found traces of amphetamines. Combat stimulants."
Brooklyn's chest burned. She shook her head violently. "That's impossible. I don't touch that garbage. You doctored the data."
"Careful, Captain." General Pierce warned, his tone low. "Accusing your own command of treason will not help your case."
Brooklyn's voice sharpened, every word clipped. "You set me up. From the start, that briefing, that facility, those ghosts in the sky... it was all a trap."
The civilian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're disoriented. Traumatic stress is clouding your memory. The record is clear. You failed. And worse... you broke the oath you swore."
Her heart thundered. She wanted to scream, to rip free. But the restraints held and the calm professionalism of her accusers made her feel like she was already buried.
The general snapped the folder shut. "Captain Brooklyn Grant, you are hereby relieved of duty, pending court-martial for gross negligence, insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer. You will be transferred immediately into custody."
Two MPs entered. They moved to her bed, unlocking the restraints only to replace them with cold iron cuffs.
Brooklyn didn't fight. Her body was weak but her mind… her mind burned.
The MPs shoved her forward, leading her down the endless corridor. Doors closed behind her with heavy metallic thuds...