67
“What’s his mission?”
Miranda felt uncomfortable looking at the pilot strapped into the chair. Their party stood in an observation room, looking at the strapped-down pilot and the operations team through a one-way window.
She’d lost her own team at the second drone sitting on the hangar floor.
Holly had tried to follow her to the observation room, but Drake had waved her off. Now it was just her, CIA Director Clark Winston, and the two generals.
With the pilot on the other side of the window, three technicians were in the space: a med tech who looked bored out of her skull, a guy slouched in front of a set of flight controls reading a novel supposedly ready to take over if anything went wrong with the neural connection, and a commander who was observing the tactical screens.
“Majo
