The base was quiet when they landed, the sun rising over the desert, the war waiting. Captain Elena Vasquez climbed out of her F-35, her legs unsteady, her body aching. Around her, her squadron did the same—exhausted, but alive.
Marcus walked toward her, his flight suit dark with sweat. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Just tired."
They walked toward the command center, their boots heavy on the concrete. Colonel Matthews was waiting, his face grim.
"Casualties?"
"None," Elena said. "The airbase is destroyed."
Matthews nodded, relief flickering across his face. "Good work, Vasquez. G
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