Yoro heard Miles’s recording the next morning.
Not the whole file. Reed would not let him hear the full convoy audio yet, and Yoro was grateful. He did not want the screams. He did not want the final seconds of men he had never met but somehow felt responsible for. He only heard the part Reed believed he had a right to hear.
Raven was poisoned.
Don’t let them blame the kid.
Yoro sat in the witness room with both hands wrapped around a paper cup of water. The cup shook so badly he had to set it down.
“He said kid,” Yoro whispered.
Reed nodded.
“He meant me.”
“Yes.”
Yoro looked away.
For weeks, he had told himself he did not care what anyone thought. That was a lie young men tell when shame gets too heavy. He cared. He cared that mechanics avoided him. He cared that pilots stared. He cared that Oliver hated him. He cared that three dead soldiers had entered every room before he did.
But Miles Hart, dying in Ashgate Canyon, had tried to protect him.
That was worse and better at the same time.
Yoro wiped his eyes quickly, angry at himself for doing it in front of a general.
Reed pretended not to notice.
“Private Hayes,” Reed said, “I need you to understand something. The next phase will be harder.”
Yoro laughed once, bitterly. “Harder than getting grabbed in the mess hall?”
“Yes.”
That answer stopped him.
Reed slid a folder across the table.
Inside was a photograph of Colonel Adrian Vale speaking to Oliver after the funeral. Vale’s hand rested on Oliver’s shoulder. His face showed perfect sympathy. Behind them, half out of frame, stood Corporal Dane Myles, the man who later delivered the envelope.
Yoro stared at it.
“He was already close to Captain Hart.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted Oliver mad.”
“He wanted Oliver useful.”
Yoro looked up. “Useful how?”
Reed’s voice lowered.
“If Oliver broke you in public, your statement would look desperate. If you claimed my authorization code was used, it would look like a private under pressure trying to drag a general into his crime. If you said Vale changed the route, people would ask why you waited until Oliver attacked you.”
Yoro understood slowly.
The mess hall had not been a side effect.
It had been a stage.
Oliver was not the only one being moved.
So was Yoro.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Tell the truth under oath.”
“I already did.”
“No,” Reed said. “You told fragments while trying not to drown. This time, you tell the whole chain.”
Yoro looked at the photograph again.
Vale smiling beside a grieving brother.
Then he asked the question he had been afraid to ask since the night Raven Six was drained.
“Sir, was the helicopter meant to crash?”
Reed’s expression changed.
Not enough for most people to notice.
Enough for Yoro.
“That,” Reed said, “is what Vale is most afraid we can prove.”