“Why is he here personally?”

That terrified me more than the SUVs.

Men like Adrian Shaw never traveled personally unless something had already gone catastrophically wrong.

My father looked confused.

“You know him?”

Unfortunately.

Shaw walked across the patio with calm confidence while conversations around us died again one by one.

He stopped directly beside our table.

“General Hale.”

“Director.”

Then his eyes shifted toward me.

“Colonel Whitmore.”

I straightened automatically.

His gaze moved briefly to my father.

Interesting flicker there.

Assessment.

Calculation.

Then back to me.

“We need to move immediately.”

“Why?”

Shaw reached inside his jacket.

Half the patio stiffened instinctively.

Instead of a weapon, he removed a photograph.

He handed it directly to me.

The second I saw it, my stomach dropped.

Satellite imagery.

Blurry but unmistakable.

An impact site.

In Arizona.

Burn marks stretching through desert rock.

And standing near the wreckage—

A human figure.

Alive.

My pulse hammered.

“Elias?”

Shaw’s voice lowered.

“We believe Commander Mercer survived reentry.”

Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.

Then Shaw continued.

“But he wasn’t alone.”

Every nerve in my body tightened again.

“What does that mean?”

General Hale stepped closer to see the image.

Her face changed instantly.

“Oh my God.”

My father looked between us helplessly.

“What?”

I turned the photograph slightly.

A second figure stood beside Elias in the wreckage.

Not in an American suit.

Not human aerospace design at all.

The patio suddenly felt twenty degrees colder.

Nathan laughed nervously again.

“That’s fake.”

Nobody joined him.

Because military people know when fear is real.

And Director Adrian Shaw looked terrified.

He spoke quietly.

“The object recovered with Commander Mercer did not originate from any nation on Earth.”

Silence swallowed the table whole.

My father blinked slowly.

“This is insane.”

Shaw ignored him completely.

“We lost contact with the retrieval convoy forty-two minutes ago.”

General Hale’s composure cracked slightly.

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

No wonder Shaw came himself.

An orbital craft.

Missing astronauts.

Unknown technology.

Now missing recovery teams.

Jesus Christ.

Shaw looked directly at me.

“You’re the only orbital trauma specialist with clearance history connected to Project Helios.”

I felt sick hearing that name again.

Project Helios had nearly destroyed my career seven years earlier.

Experimental military aerospace integration.

Officially canceled.

Unofficially buried.

“I resigned from Helios,” I said quietly.

“You survived Helios,” Shaw corrected.

Fair point.

My father finally stood.

“Somebody tell me what the hell is happening.”

For the first time, Shaw acknowledged him fully.

His eyes moved across my father slowly.

“You should go home, Mr. Whitmore.”

Dad bristled instantly.

“This is my daughter.”

“No,” Shaw said calmly. “This is a classified national asset currently being pulled into an international security event.”

That wording hit me harder than anyone else.

National asset.

Not person.

Not doctor.