My High-Society Father Dismissed My Supersonic Jet Warnings As Hysteria Until He Crashed The Simulator — Then The Defense Board Forced Me To Take His Place
A heavy silence fell over the hangar. The emergency lights, strobing red, cast long, distorted shadows across the faces of the military board members. The stench of ozone hung in the air from the overtaxed simulator.
The hydraulic doors hissed open, releasing a cloud of cooling vapor. Arthur Harrington stumbled out, his face an ashen gray, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He clutched the edge of the cockpit frame, his legs unsteady.
“It’s… it’s software manipulation!” he gasped, his voice raspy. “Malicious alteration! This isn’t accurate, General Kensington!”
General Kensington, a man carved from granite, stepped forward, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept over the ruined simulator, then settled on Arthur, who was still rambling about sabotage.
“Thirty years of manual piloting experience, Arthur,” Kensington stated, his voice flat. “Failed catastrophicly within ninety seconds. Under the exact vibration stress Dr. Harrington mapped out.”
Arthur flinched. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyes darted to me, a flicker of raw hatred in their depths.
Kensington turned slowly, his gaze bypassing the stunned military observers and corporate executives. He pointed a rigid finger directly at me.
“Dr. Elena Harrington,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly through the tense silence. “Step forward.”
A ripple went through the room. Whispers broke out amongst the board members, some turning to look at me with dawning recognition.
“Before her… *departure* from Harrington Aerospace,” Kensington continued, his eyes fixed on mine, “Dr. Harrington was the original lead engineer who designed the XR-12 Specter’s primary flight control algorithms.”
My blood ran cold. The secret I’d kept hidden for so long, the one Arthur had gone to such lengths to erase, was now out. The general knew.
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