Chapter 6 - Viking Six
The ballroom had become an echo chamber of stunned whispers. Defense contractors, senators, and socialites leaned forward, completely oblivious to Preston and Julianna, who stood marooned near the entryway like discarded props.
"Three years ago," General Sterling spoke into the microphone, his stern gaze sweeping across the Vance family portraits lining the walls, "an elite Task Force detachment was ambushed in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan. Deep behind enemy lines in the Sangin Valley. A joint force of twenty-two operators was pinned down against a dry riverbed by over eighty heavily armed insurgents with mortar support."
Preston swallowed hard. He looked at me, then at the General, desperately searching for a lie. "That’s... that’s military business. What does that have to do with Harper?"
"Shut up, Preston," General Sterling commanded without even glancing at him.
"The detachment commander was killed in the first sixty seconds," Sterling continued, his voice dropping into a solemn, guttural cadence. "Every vehicle was disabled. The casualty count climbed to nine wounded within ten minutes. Among the wounded was my son, Lieutenant Caleb Sterling, his legs crushed beneath a burning MATV."
Julianna looked at Caleb, horrified by the image.
"HQ had no air support available for forty-five minutes. The situation was declared non-survivable," Sterling said, his eyes locking directly onto Beatrice Vance. "Do you know who took command, Mrs. Vance? It wasn't a desk clerk. It was Captain Harper Vance. Viking Six."
Beatrice’s face drained of all color. "No... Harper was in supply. She told me—"
"She told you what was required by federal law under classified Tier One operational security protocols," General Sterling cut her off ruthlessly. "For seventy-two hours, Captain Vance held that perimeter. When the enemy breached the western wall, she engaged in hand-to-hand combat to protect the medical bunker. When a mortar team zeroed in on the casualty collection point, she advanced alone with an M249 squad automatic weapon through open gunfire to eliminate the position."
The room went deathly still. You could hear the faint hum of the chandeliers above.
"She took shrapnel to her leg. She took blast concussions that cracked her ribs. And when the extraction birds finally touched down through a wall of RPG fire, Captain Vance refused to board until the last wounded soldier was secured," General Sterling’s voice cracked slightly with profound reverence. "She carried my broken son two hundred yards across open, burning terrain on her own shoulders."
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Caleb stood tall beside his father, tears spilling freely down his cheeks now.
"She saved fourteen American lives that day," General Sterling concluded, his eyes shining with absolute authority. "She didn't run off to play soldier, Mrs. Vance. She bled so that fourteen mothers wouldn't have to bury their sons."
