The officer scanned the document, then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping aside from the terminal. “Log in with your biometric key.”

I sat down at the console, my heart beating a rapid rhythm against my ribs.

I pressed my thumb against the glass scanner.

The screen flashed green, and a list of classified directories appeared.

I typed in the date: *July 14th.*

The system whirred, the hard drives clicking in the quiet room.

A list of medical transport flights and personnel logs appeared on the screen.

I scrolled down through the names, my eyes searching for any anomaly.

Then I saw it.

An entry marked *Medical Evacuation – Urgent.*

The patient’s name was Colonel Richard Rogers.

But it was the signature of the authorizing officer that made my breath catch.

The authorization had not come from the medical board.

It had been signed by an active Navy Lieutenant at the time.

Michael Rogers.

And next to his name was a secondary signature, a civilian witness who had been present in the secure ward.

Helen Rogers.

Before I could read the attached medical file, the terminal screen suddenly went black.