Chapter 2 - Echoes of SanginMara pulled her uniform top over her shoulders, her hands shaking so much she struggled with the buttons. The silence in the small room was suffocating.
"You shouldn't have seen that," she whispered, staring at the floor. "And you shouldn't be asking questions about Sangin, Commander."
"The official citation for that rescue went to Holt and Crane," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "Holt was awarded the Silver Star for organizing the evacuation, and Crane got a Bronze Star for entering the kill zone. But the medical appendix in the classified file described a burn pattern that didn't match either of their physical exams."
Mara let out a quiet, bitter laugh, a sound completely devoid of hope. "Of course it didn't. Holt was in an armored vehicle three hundred yards away. Crane was hiding behind a concrete barrier. I was the one in the dirt with the Marines."
"Why did you let them do this to you?" I asked.
"Do you think I had a choice?" Mara looked up, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "I woke up in a military burn ward in Germany with tubes in my throat. By the time I could speak, the official reports were signed. When I tried to file a correction, Crane visited my bedside. He told me that if I persisted, they would have me discharged on psychiatric grounds. They said no one would believe a traumatized woman over two decorated male officers."
Before I could reply, heavy footsteps echoed down the tiled corridor.
Colonel Holt stood in the doorway, his chest puffed out under his decorated uniform, flanked by Major Crane. Both men wore calm, pleasant expressions that felt entirely manufactured.
Holt looked at Mara’s slightly disheveled uniform, then locked his cold eyes on me. "Is there a problem here, Commander?"
"No, Sir," Mara said quickly, her entire posture shrinking inward.
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Crane smiled, a greasy, patronizing smirk. "Lieutenant Vance has a habit of creating misunderstandings. We find she does best when she keeps her head down and sticks to her duties."
I watched her shoulders fold, her spirit momentarily crushed under their gaze. They hadn't just stolen her medals; they had spent five years conditioning her to believe she was entirely powerless.
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