“But he wasn’t alone.”
Every nerve in my body tightened again.
“What does that mean?”
General Hale stepped closer to see the image.
Her face changed instantly.
“Oh my God.”
My father looked between us helplessly.
“What?”
I turned the photograph slightly.
A second figure stood beside Elias in the wreckage.
Not in an American suit.
Not human aerospace design at all.
The patio suddenly felt twenty degrees colder.
Nathan laughed nervously again.
“That’s fake.”
Nobody joined him.
Because military people know when fear is real.
And Director Adrian Shaw looked terrified.
He spoke quietly.
“The object recovered with Commander Mercer did not originate from any nation on Earth.”
Silence swallowed the table whole.
My father blinked slowly.
“This is insane.”
Shaw ignored him completely.
“We lost contact with the retrieval convoy forty-two minutes ago.”
General Hale’s composure cracked slightly.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
No wonder Shaw came himself.
An orbital craft.
Missing astronauts.
Unknown technology.
Now missing recovery teams.
Jesus Christ.
Shaw looked directly at me.
“You’re the only orbital trauma specialist with clearance history connected to Project Helios.”
I felt sick hearing that name again.
Project Helios had nearly destroyed my career seven years earlier.
Experimental military aerospace integration.
Officially canceled.
Unofficially buried.
“I resigned from Helios,” I said quietly.
“You survived Helios,” Shaw corrected.
Fair point.
My father finally stood.
“Somebody tell me what the hell is happening.”
For the first time, Shaw acknowledged him fully.
His eyes moved across my father slowly.
“You should go home, Mr. Whitmore.”
Dad bristled instantly.
“This is my daughter.”
“No,” Shaw said calmly. “This is a classified national asset currently being pulled into an international security event.”
That wording hit me harder than anyone else.
