Chapter 7: The Test Begins
The screen went black.
But nobody moved.
Not immediately.
Because sometimes silence is more terrifying than an alarm.
The archive room had survived a security breach, a missing officer who was supposed to be dead, and a message from someone who had been watching me before I even arrived.
Yet the thing that unsettled everyone most was a simple sentence.
*WELCOME TO THE TEST.*
I stared at the dark monitor.
A test.
That was the word my father had used.
Not in the letter.
Not in any official document.
In my childhood.
Whenever I complained about something being unfair, he would say:
“Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready, Rebecca. It tests whether you are.””
I used to hate those words.
Now they felt different.
Now they felt like a warning.
General Hale was the first to move.
“Lock this building down.””
Ellis grabbed her radio.
“All personnel, initiate internal security protocol. No one enters or exits the records building.””
A voice answered.
“Understood.””
Hale looked at me.
“Colonel, you need to step away from the terminal.””
I didn’t.
“Why?””
“Because whoever created that file wanted you to see it.””
“I know.””
“Then you understand this could be a trap.””
I looked at the screen.
“It already is.””
Hale’s expression tightened.
“Colonel.””
I turned toward him.
“For thirty years, someone has been moving pieces around my life.””
My voice was calm.
That surprised me.
“I thought my father didn’t believe in me. I thought my brother didn’t respect me. I thought every obstacle I faced was something I had to overcome alone.””
I looked at the computer.
“But now I find out someone was watching me before I even understood the game.””
Nobody spoke.
“So yes, General. It’s a trap.””
I stepped closer to the monitor.
“But I want to know what they’re testing.””
James Voss watched me carefully.
“That is exactly what they want.””
“Then they know me very well.””
“Yes.””
“Good.””
Voss frowned.
“Good?””
I looked at him.
“Because if they know me, they know I won’t walk away.””
For the first time, something like approval crossed his face.
A small expression.
Almost invisible.
But I noticed.
My father would have noticed too.
The screen suddenly flickered.
Everyone turned.
The video returned.
The senior officer appeared again.
The man who had congratulated me.
The man who had shaken my hand.
The man who had welcomed me into this command.
Lieutenant General Adrian Cross.
A decorated officer.
A respected leader.
A man whose name appeared on my selection documents.
And now, a man speaking to me from a hidden video.
“Rebecca,” he said.
His voice was calm.
Professional.
Almost fatherly.
That made it worse.
“I imagine by now you have discovered some uncomfortable truths.””
Hale stepped closer to the screen.
“Cross.””
Voss looked at him.
“You know him?””
Everyone looked at Hale.
The general didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“Yes.””
“How?””
Hale’s face hardened.
“He was my mentor.””
That sentence changed everything.
Cross continued.
“Before you become angry, understand something. This is not personal.””
I almost laughed.
Because anyone who says something is not personal usually means it is exactly that.
The video continued.
“You have spent your career proving you belong in rooms where people doubted you.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“You built yourself into someone disciplined, controlled, and dependable.””
The screen paused.
Then Cross smiled.
“But leadership is not measured by what you do when everything is clear.””
The image changed.
A document appeared.
My command evaluation.
“Leadership is measured when the truth is incomplete.””
I stared.
The evaluation began scrolling.
My name.
My rank.
My entire career.
But the details were wrong.
Not inaccurate.
Wrong.
There were events I had never reported.
Conversations I never had.
Decisions I never made.
I looked at Ellis.
“What is this?””
She stepped closer.
“That’s not your official evaluation.””
“Then what is it?””
“A prediction.””
The word felt strange.
“A prediction?””
Voss answered.
“The test.””
I looked at him.
“Explain.””
He sighed.
“Your father believed the organization had changed.””
“Changed how?””
“From rewarding leaders to manufacturing them.””
I looked back at the screen.
Cross continued speaking.
“Every commander believes they understand themselves. Every leader believes they know what choices they would make under pressure.””
The screen showed a series of scenarios.
Personnel crisis.
Security failure.
Political pressure.
Public scrutiny.
Each one with my name attached.
“This installation has been observing leadership behavior for decades.””
Hale shook his head.
“No.””
Cross’s video continued.
“The question is simple.””
The screen zoomed in.
*WHAT KIND OF COMMANDER ARE YOU?*
Then four words appeared.
*LOYALTY. TRUTH. POWER. LEGACY.*
Cross looked directly into the camera.
“Choose carefully.””
The video ended.
The room remained silent.
Then Glenn spoke.
“I have a question.””
Everyone looked at him.
Voss raised an eyebrow.
Glenn pointed at the screen.
“Is this normal?””
Nobody answered.
“That’s not a joke.””
His voice was serious.
“I’m a civilian. I don’t understand military politics. I don’t understand command structures.””
He looked around.
“But I do understand when people are hiding things.””
He looked at me.
“And everyone here is hiding something.””
Nobody argued.
Because he was right.
I walked toward Hale.
“General.””
“Yes?””
“Did you know about this program?””
“No.””
“Did you know about my father’s involvement?””
“No.””
“Did you know Cross was connected?””
“No.””
I studied him.
He looked exhausted.
Not guilty.
Not afraid.
Exhausted.
Which told me something.
He was telling the truth.
I turned to Voss.
“Did my father know I would become a commander?””
“Yes.””
“Did he know this would happen?””
“No.””
“You’re sure?””
Voss hesitated.
That was enough.
“What?””
He looked away.
“Your father suspected.””
“Suspected what?””
“That someone would try to use your appointment.””
“To do what?””
He looked at the screen.
“To expose themselves.””
The answer sent a chill through me.
“What does that mean?””
Voss walked to the table and picked up the old folder.
“Your father wasn’t trying to protect you from becoming a leader.””
He opened it.
“He was trying to protect you from becoming the weapon someone needed.””
The room went silent.
I looked at the documents.
At my name.
At the decades of preparation.
At the hidden evaluations.
“Why me?””
Voss looked at me.
“Because you were the only person they couldn’t control.””
I shook my head.
“That’s impossible.””
“No.””
His voice was quiet.
“It’s why they feared you.””
A security officer suddenly rushed into the archive.
“General.””
Hale turned.
“What?””
“We found something.””
“What?””
The officer looked uncomfortable.
“Someone accessed the command system.””
“When?””
“Five minutes ago.””
“From where?””
The officer hesitated.
“From your office.””
Everyone froze.
Hale’s expression changed.
“My office?””
“Yes, sir.””
“Who had access?””
The officer looked down.
“We checked the cameras.””
“And?””
He swallowed.
“The person entering your office was Colonel Mercer.””
My entire body went still.
“What?””
The officer looked at me.
“Colonel, the security footage shows you entering the command building twenty minutes before your official arrival.””
Nobody spoke.
Glenn stared at me.
“That’s impossible.””
“Yes,” I said.
Because I knew exactly where I had been.
At the gate.
In the holding cell.
With Brandt.
With everyone watching.
Hale looked at the officer.
“Show me the footage.””
The officer handed over the tablet.
The video played.
A person walked into the command building.
Civilian clothes.
Same height.
Same hair.
Same posture.
My face.
My body.
My movements.
Even the way I walked.
Glenn whispered:
“That’s not you.””
I watched the footage.
Because he was right.
Something was wrong.
The person turned toward the camera.
For one second, the image froze.
And beneath it, the system generated a label.
*IDENTITY CONFIRMED: REBECCA MERCER*
Then another line appeared.
*TIMESTAMP: BEFORE ARRIVAL*
My heart sank.
Because whoever created this had done something impossible.
They had made the base believe I was already here.
Before I arrived.
And then my phone buzzed.
Another message.
Unknown number.
Only one sentence.
*NOW YOU UNDERSTAND WHY YOUR FATHER WAS AFRAID.*
I looked up.
Everyone was watching me.
May you like
Then a second message appeared.
*THE PERSON WHO STOLE YOUR IDENTITY IS STANDING IN THIS ROOM.*
