The Ghost shuttle screamed its death-rattle high over the East China Sea. The escape from the Academy had been clean, but the long, high-speed flight across the Pacific had pushed the experimental craft's systems to their breaking point. A cascade of alarms, one after another, had lit up Jack's console, a Christmas tree of catastrophic failures. The stealth systems were fried, the port engine was on fire, and the entire shuttle was shuddering with the violent convulsions of a dying machine.
He was so close. The Chinese coastline was a dark, hazy line on the horizon. He wrestled with the controls, trying to guide the falling star to a soft landing, but the shuttle had its own ideas. It entered a flat spin, the G-forces pressing Jack deep into his seat, his vision tunneling to a grey pinpoint. The last thing he saw before the world went black was the angry, churning surface of the ocean rushing up to meet him.
The violent kiss of water and metal was a concussive blast that tore the Ghost apart.
He awoke to the taste of salt and the cold, hard barrel of a rifle pressed against his temple.
He was lying on a wet, sandy beach, the wreckage of his shuttle a smoking, twisted ruin in the surf behind him. Standing over him were not local fishermen. They were soldiers, clad in the sleek, black combat armor of the East Asian Community's elite border patrol. Their faces were hidden behind impassive helmets, their weapons leveled with an unnerving stillness. They had been waiting for him. The moment his stealth systems had failed, he had appeared on every military radar in the hemisphere.
He was dragged from the sand and bundled into a windowless transport vehicle. There was no rough treatment, no shouting. Just a cold, terrifyingly efficient professionalism. He was no longer a person; he was an asset, a piece of high-value enemy property to be cataloged and secured.
The interrogation room was stark white, a perfect cube of sensory deprivation. A single steel table, two chairs. A one-way mirror that felt like a dead, black eye staring into his soul. Jack sat, his tattered flight suit exchanged for a simple grey jumpsuit, the bruises from the crash blooming in purple and black across his face.
The door hissed open, and a woman entered. It was Mei-Ling. He recognized her instantly from the Wuzhen incident files he'd reviewed. Sharp, intelligent, and utterly loyal to her cause. This was not going to be easy.
She sat opposite him, placing a datapad on the table between them. She didn't offer him water. She didn't ask if he was okay.
"Dr. Jack Wilson," she began, her voice a calm, clinical instrument. "The architect of the Sentinel Program. America's golden boy. The West's most wanted fugitive. And now, our most interesting guest."
She tapped the datapad, and a holographic image of the Titan appeared above the table. "You built this. A weapon that slaughtered civilians in the desert. And now you crash-land on our shores, expecting... what? Asylum? A warm welcome?"
Jack stared at her, his mind sharp despite the throbbing pain in his head. He was a traitor to his own people. To them, he was a war criminal, a spy, or both. They had no reason to trust him, no reason to believe a single word he said.
"I'm not talking to you," he said, his voice a dry rasp.
Mei-Ling's eyebrow arched slightly. "You are not in a position to make demands, Doctor."
"I have one demand," Jack said, leaning forward, his gaze locked on hers, pouring every ounce of his conviction, his desperation, his entire, insane gamble into his words. "I'm not talking to your generals. I'm not talking to your politicians. I'm not talking to your intelligence analysts."
"I will see Commander Lin Feng."
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Mei-Ling's face. She stared at him, trying to parse the logic of the request. Why would this American scientist, the man who built the very monster their greatest soldier had fought, demand to see him? What could they possibly have to say to each other?
"He's the only one who will understand," Jack said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "He's the only one who's seen what that thing really is. Get me in a room with him. It's the only way any of this makes sense."