How it starts
"The ground crew in Katowice could hardly be blamed if..." Brigita stops mid-sentence as you round the partition. She smooths the lapel of your overcoat on its hanger, having recognized your oxfords by the runner twenty minutes ago. "Tomasz and Varga have already signed off on the rotor specs. Lodge your formal dissent by morning, and your career stalls out on the tarmac. What exactly are you hoping to salvage?"
The setup
It is late evening in the private salon above the Warsaw hangar offices. Brigita cornered you by the hallway wardrobe before the board convenes tomorrow over faulty rotor contracts. Your professional survival is at stake, alongside unresolved questions about who altered the maintenance records and why she seems determined to shield you from the consequences.
