Chapter 7 - I AM NOT YOUR MISSIONKAYISE
My father arrives at the academy the next morning.
I don't know who called him.
I don't care.
All I know is that when Captain Ndlovu tells me I have a visitor, my stomach immediately tightens.
I have imagined this conversation all night.
I have rehearsed questions.
Accusations.
Everything I want to say.
But when I walk into the visitor center and see him standing near the window, every word disappears.
He turns.
"Baby girl."
I stop.
He takes a step toward me.
I take one backward.
His expression changes.
"Kayise."
"Don't."
He lowers his hands.
I have never looked at my father and felt like a stranger was standing in front of me.
Not until today.
"Did you authorize it?"
He exhales.
"Let's sit down."
"No."
"Kayise, please."
"Did you authorize those people to test me?"
He studies my face.
Then he nods.
"I asked Ralph to assess your abilities."
"And Ryan?"
His jaw tightens.
"I suggested an emotional resilience evaluation."
I laugh.
It's a horrible sound.
"An emotional resilience evaluation?"
"Kayise—"
"You mean turning my friend against me?"
"I did not authorize public humiliation."
"But you authorized the betrayal."
He doesn't answer.
I feel tears burning behind my eyes.
I refuse to let them fall.
"Why?"
He pulls out a chair.
This time, he sits.
For a long moment, he looks older than I have ever seen him.
"Because I know what the world can do to people who aren't prepared."
I stare at him.
"Prepared for what?"
"Manipulation. Pressure. Betrayal. Difficult decisions."
"So you decided to create all those things for me?"
He rubs his forehead.
"When I was younger, I lost good soldiers because they trusted the wrong people. Others made terrible decisions because they couldn't control their emotions. I wanted you to be ready."
"Ready for what, Dad? Life?"
He looks up.
"Yes."
I shake my head.
"You don't get to destroy my trust to teach me not to trust people."
He closes his eyes.
The silence stretches between us.
Then he says something I never expected.
"You're right."
I blink.
"What?"
"You're right."
His voice is quieter now.
"I thought I was preparing you. Instead, I interfered with something you had every right to experience on your own."
I don't know what to do with his admission.
Part of me wants to forgive him immediately.
Another part wants him to feel exactly how much he hurt me.
"Did you ask them to push me into information technology?"
He nods.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're gifted at analyzing information. Because the future of military operations depends on technology. Because I thought you could do remarkable things in that field."
"But what if I don't want that?"
He looks at me.
For the first time, he seems genuinely uncertain.
"What do you want?"
I swallow.
"I don't know yet."
He nods slowly.
"Okay."
"No, Dad. It's not okay."
I sit across from him.
"I came here because I wanted to find out who I am without everyone telling me who I'm supposed to become."
His eyes shine.
"I know."
"Do you?"
He doesn't respond.
I lean forward.
"You are my father. I love you. I respect what you've accomplished. But I cannot spend my entire life trying to become another version of you."
He looks down at his hands.
"I never wanted that."
"Then stop deciding everything for me."
For a moment, the only sound in the room is the humming air conditioner.
Then he nods.
"I will."
I want to believe him.
But trust doesn't return simply because someone apologizes.
"You have to stop the assessments."
"I've already requested a suspension."
"Requested?"
He looks up.
"There are complications."
My chest tightens.
"What complications?"
Before he can answer, the door opens.
My mother walks inside.
I stand so quickly that my chair scrapes against the floor.
"Mom?"
She crosses the room and pulls me into her arms.
And just like that, I am no longer a cadet trying to hold herself together.
I am somebody's daughter.
A girl who has been frightened, embarrassed, and betrayed.
I start crying.
Nomvula holds me tightly.
"It's okay, baby."
I shake my head.
"No, it's not."
"I know."
She strokes my back.
"I know."
Behind her, my father remains seated.
For the first time in my life, he doesn't try to take control of the situation.
He lets me cry.
Eventually, I pull away.
"How did you get here?"
"Through the proper channels," my mother says.
She glances at my father.
"Something we should all be learning to respect."
He accepts the criticism without arguing.
My mother sits beside me.
"Kayise, I need you to listen carefully."
I wipe my cheeks.
"Okay."
"There are people investigating what happened."
"Ralph told me."
"Not just what happened to you."
I look at her.
"What do you mean?"
She hesitates.
Then she mentions a name.
"Lerato Maseko."
My father stiffens.
I turn toward him.
"You know her?"
He closes his eyes.
"Yes."
My mother watches him.
"Then maybe it's time you told us the truth."
He takes a long breath.
"Lerato was part of an early research program. She questioned the way information was being collected. There was an incident, and afterward I was told she had voluntarily withdrawn."
"Did you sign her dismissal?"
"No."
My mother removes a document from her bag.
"Your signature appears on this."
He studies it.
His face changes.
"That's not the version I approved."
I lean forward.
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone attached my authorization to a different decision."
My mother folds her arms.
"Who?"
Before he can answer, a woman enters the room.
I recognize her from the family liaison area.
She introduces herself as Naledi Dlamini.
An independent investigator.
She carries a thick folder.
"Major General," she says, "I'm sorry to interrupt."
My father stands.
"What's happened?"
Naledi looks at me.
Then at my mother.
"I believe the family needs to hear this together."
She places the folder on the table.
"Earlier today, we obtained the latest access records from the academy's research network."
My father frowns.
"And?"
"The data collection program is much larger than we initially believed."
"How large?"
Naledi opens the folder.
"Six hundred and twelve cadets have been profiled under the MIRROR classification system over the past three years."
I stare at her.
"Six hundred?"
"Yes."
My mother presses a hand against her chest.
"What kind of information?"
"Academic records, stress responses, counseling summaries, financial vulnerabilities, and personal behavioral observations."
My stomach turns.
"Why would anyone collect all that?"
Naledi meets my eyes.
"That's what we're investigating."
Then she slides a second sheet across the table.
It contains several rows of names.
One belongs to me.
Another belongs to Ryan.
Near the bottom, an entry is highlighted.
MTHEMBU, KAYISE — PHASE THREE AUTHORIZED
I look toward my father.
He is staring at the page.
His face has gone completely pale.
"Dad?"
He doesn't answer.
I look at Naledi.
"What is phase three?"
She hesitates.
Then she says the words that make the room feel suddenly smaller.
"According to the project documents, phase three is the point at which the subject's personal relationships become operational leverage."
My mother grips my hand.
I look at my father.
"Can you stop it?"
He reaches for his phone.
Before he can make a call, Naledi speaks again.
"There's one problem, General."
He turns toward her.
May you like
"What?"
"Someone activated phase three this morning."
