Chapter 5
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the western sky in brilliant shades of amber, violet, and deep indigo. The crisp autumn air carried the earthy scent of fallen leaves and distant pine smoke as Thomas and Leo unloaded their camping gear on the front porch. The silver sedan sat quietly in the driveway, its engine ticking softly as it cooled down in the gathering dusk. Inside the house, warm light spilled from the living room windows, promising comfort and warmth after the emotional turbulence of the school day.
Suddenly, the crunch of gravel broke the evening silence. Thomas paused, holding a heavy canvas duffel bag in one hand, and straightened up. Glancing toward the end of the driveway, he saw the same dark-blue sedan he had noticed earlier pulling off the rural road and coming to a deliberate stop near the mailbox. The headlights cut through the gathering gloom, casting long, stark beams across the front lawn. The driver’s side door opened, and a tall man in a dark civilian suit stepped out, adjusting his jacket as he began walking purposefully up the paved walkway toward the porch.
Leo instinctively moved closer to his father, his small fingers grabbing hold of the fabric of Thomas’s pilot jumpsuit. "Dad? Who is that?" he asked, a sudden note of apprehension creeping into his voice. The relaxed atmosphere of their homecoming evaporated instantly, replaced by the rigid tension of the unknown. Thomas handed the duffel bag to Leo, signaling him to step back toward the open front door.
"Stay inside the entryway, buddy. Leave the door cracked," Thomas instructed in a low, absolute tone that brooked no argument. He stepped forward, blocking the path between the approaching stranger and his son. The man in the suit stopped a few paces short of the bottom porch step. He had short, iron-gray hair, sharp features, and an expression of grim official business that clashed violently with the quiet domesticity of the neighborhood.
"Commander Miller," the man said, flashing a small leather identification folder that caught the porch light. "My name is Agent Vance, Office of Aerospace Security. Sorry to disturb your evening off, but we have a situation developing at the complex, and your immediate presence is required." Thomas didn't reach for the ID; he already knew the protocol. The casual intrusion into his personal time signaled that whatever was happening at the facility was severe enough to bypass standard communication channels.
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"We secured the test flight window for Friday, Agent Vance. All telemetry checks were nominal as of noon today," Thomas replied, his voice remaining measured and professional, though his mind was racing through potential mechanical or administrative failures. "Why are you tracking me here instead of communicating through secure command channels?" Vance glanced briefly at Leo standing nervously in the doorway before stepping a fraction closer to the porch, lowering his voice so only the pilot could hear.
"It’s not a telemetry issue, Commander. It’s a security breach involving the primary propulsion schematics," Vance said quietly, the gravity of his words hanging heavily in the evening air. "Someone leaked the initial design drafts to an unauthorized third party late this afternoon. And according to our internal security logs, the digital access point traced directly back to a terminal registered under your personal clearance code—accessed from an external network while you were away from the base."
