Chapter 6: The Arrival of the Green Berets
The heavy sliding doors of the hangar groaned as they were pulled open from the outside, flooding the polished concrete with the flashing red and blue lights of federal police cruisers. A squad of armed military police, led by a stern-faced Lieutenant Colonel with salt-and-pepper hair and a chest full of genuine combat ribbons, marched into the room in precise, synchronized formation. The guests parted like water before a bow, terrified of the sudden, overwhelming authority that had just entered the space.
Julian stopped struggling in his uncle's grip as the military police surrounded them. His face was a mask of utter defeat, his expensive tuxedo now rumpled and stained with spilled wine. General Thomas Vance slowly released his grip on his nephew, stepping back as if he had been contaminated by simply touching him. The old general looked down at his own hands, then at the medals on his chest, feeling for the first time in his life that they belonged to a world that no longer existed—a world where honor still meant something before the corporate ghouls took over.
Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Vance—no relation to Julian, despite the shared name—stopped directly in front of Alia. He looked at her green dress uniform, the medals, and the dark stain of blood over her heart. Without a word of preamble, Marcus snapped into a crisp, flawless salute, holding it until Alia slowly raised her right hand and returned it with military precision.
"Captain Morgan," Marcus said, his voice deep and resonant. "We received your broadcast uplink. The tactical recovery team secured the secondary cache in the mountains three hours ago. The survivors are safe. The black box recordings are in federal custody."
Alia lowered her hand, letting out a long, slow breath that seemed to shed a decade of weight from her shoulders. "Thank you, Colonel. It took longer than it should have to get home."
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"You brought yourself back, Captain," Marcus replied, before turning his gaze toward Julian, who was now being pulled away from the table by two military police officers. Heavy steel handcuffs clicked into place around Julian's wrists, the metallic sound ringing sharply in the quiet hangar. "Julian Vance, you are under arrest for high treason, desertion in the face of the enemy, falsification of official casualty reports, and criminal negligence resulting in the death of service members."
Julian didn't resist. His head hung low, his eyes fixed on the floor as he was led past the vintage airplane that had served as the backdrop for his grand deception. Elena pressed her back against the catering table, her sparkly silver dress catching the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars outside, turning her into a shivering statue of disbelief and shame. She watched her brother pass her without a glance, realizing that the luxury they had enjoyed for years was built entirely upon a foundation of sand, ash, and human sacrifice.
