My Cult-Leader Brother Called Me A Lowly Flu-Shot Nurse At Our Council Luncheon — Then A Two-Star General Saluted Me As Colonel
Two weeks later.
The mood was brief, functional. I sat in the rear of a military transport aircraft, the cabin dark except for the muted glow of instrument panels. The rumble of the engines was a constant companion as we flew over the desolate Nevada landscape. The orbital trauma recovery mission had been successful. The crew was safe. The biopharmaceuticals secured.
My secure satellite phone rang. It was General Albright.
“Colonel Finch,” she said, her voice clear despite the satellite delay. “Final mission debriefing.”
“Go ahead, General,” I replied, feeling a faint tremor of exhaustion. The past weeks had been a blur of high-stakes surgery in zero-g environments and relentless operational tempo.
“Orion-7’s corporate defense trust just finalized its restructuring,” Albright stated, her tone casual, almost conversational. “Routine post-incident procedure. Consolidated some assets, updated the federal deed.”
I nodded, waiting. This was standard.
“Just wanted you to know,” she continued, “the parent umbrella corporation listed on the federal deed, the one that owns Orion-7 and funds your entire space medicine division at Space Command?”
A sudden chill snaked down my spine. The way she paused.
“It’s owned entirely by Silas Drake.”
The words hung in the air, echoing in the sterile silence of the aircraft cabin. Silas Drake. The ruthless syndicate broker. The man who funded the cult. The man who had just orchestrated Caleb’s quiet removal.
My brother. The Elders. The Sanctum. My escape. My mission. All of it, inextricably linked.
I stared at the sterile ceiling of the aircraft, the truth settling over me like a shroud. I had fought so hard to break free from Caleb’s cage, from my father’s oppressive dogma, from the suffocating world of the Sanctum. I had climbed to the highest echelons of military service, dedicated my life to the stars, to science, to saving lives.
But the stars, it seemed, had an owner. And that owner was the very same man who pulled the strings of the cult I had left behind.
I spent ten years believing I had escaped my family’s cage by serving the skies. I never realized the sky was owned by the same men who built the cage.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours