I slept for maybe an hour, even though they gave me four. My body rested, but my head didn't. The HUD never faded. It stayed there every time I blinked, quiet and patient, like it was waiting for me to do something with it.
I tried everything. I tried focusing on the corners, tried blinking hard, tried thinking commands at it like some idiot. Nothing happened. The tags only shifted whenever I looked at something new. The door, the bedframe, even the damn ceiling panel—all marked with neat little lines of data. No menus. No options. No voice. Just information.
When the clock finally hit the time I was given, I got up, straightened my uniform, and headed out.
The debrief room was on the third floor of Command. Cold walls, bright lights—same as always. The door slid open and I stepped inside.
Three people were already waiting.
At the center of the table sat Colonel Adrien Holt, Blackbird Division's operations commander. Older, maybe mid-fifties, hair grey at the sides, posture sharp enough to cut someone. He had two officers beside him, both quiet, both watching me too closely.
I saluted. "Colonel."
He returned it with a short nod. "Paige. Take a seat."
I sat. The HUD tagged Holt the moment I looked at him.
[Name: Holt, Adrien]
Rank: Colonel
Age: 54
Equipment Status: Unarmed
I forced my eyes away.
"Let's begin," Holt said. "Tell us everything. Start from launch."
So I did.
I told them about the escort orders. The flight path. The storm fronts. The first spike of static sweeping through the comms. I didn't hide the Breach-Class surfacing — no one would believe I missed something that size. I kept it clinical: the emergence, the shockwave, the loss of formation. Nothing more.
I kept my voice steady as I outlined the hit my jet took, the system failures cascading one after another. I didn't tell them about seeing the creature again beneath the water, or how it should have killed me. I didn't tell them about the markings I could suddenly see on everything afterward.
I gave them the version that wouldn't get me dragged into medical for a psych eval.
"My jet took damage from the shockwave," I said. "Systems failed. I lost control and went down. The next thing I remember, I woke up on shore. No sign of Kepler's Edge. No sign of my team."
Holt watched me carefully. Too carefully.
"And your squadmates?" he asked. "Ren Calder. Mira Dov."
"MIA," I answered. "I didn't see either of them after the fall."
The younger officer beside him wrote something down.
"And Kepler's Edge?"
"Gone," I said quietly. "No wreck. No beacon."
Holt nodded once, slowly.
Then he studied me for a long moment. His eyes narrowed just a little—not suspicious, more… thoughtful.
"Paige," he said, voice lowering, "are you feeling alright? Any dizziness? Disorientation? Anything unusual since you woke up?"
My heartbeat kicked. I made sure my breathing didn't.
"I'm fine, sir."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, sir. No problems."
He kept staring at me like he didn't quite believe it, then finally leaned back. He let out a breath he probably didn't mean for anyone to hear.
"Alright," he said. "For now, that's all we need."
He closed the file in front of him.
"There's one more thing. Blackbird-9 Squadron is down a pilot. They lost one of their own three days ago during a Rift interception. They requested a replacement. Command agreed." His eyes locked on mine. "You're being reassigned to Blackbird-9."
I felt my stomach drop. Blackbird-9. The legends. The ones everyone else tried to be and usually failed. I hadn't even finished processing Ren and Mira being gone, and now they wanted me to fly with the Division's top tier.
Holt continued, "Report to their hangar tomorrow at 0600. You'll meet the squadron there."
"Yes, sir." My voice came out steady, but my mind wasn't.
He gave me a final nod. "Dismissed, Paige. And… get some rest."
I saluted, stood, and left the room.
The hallway outside felt too bright. Too quiet. My own footsteps sounded farther away than they should've. The HUD still hovered at the edge of my vision, tagging every soldier I passed with clean little labels they didn't know hovered over them.
I rubbed my face, trying to reel myself back in.
I was alive when I shouldn't have been.
I had something in my head that shouldn't exist.
And now I was being sent to Blackbird-9.
If this was a second chance… I wasn't sure yet whether I was supposed to take it—or run from it.