
Choose Your Own Mission — Cortland Raikes
The briefing room is colder than the hangar, and the Falchion element is already seated when you come through the door. You are the eleventh person in a room with ten chairs: a standing special-operations detachment whose commander has read your file twice and has told nobody in the room a word of what it says. Raikes hands you a chair, a callsign of your own, and one honest condition — no name stays on your detail unless you want it there, and the story you are about to be dropped into is yours to shape, not his.


















