Chapter 8 - Stripped on the Deck
"Security detail," Vance commanded, turning his head toward the Master-at-Arms personnel.
This time, there was no hesitation.
The two armed guards marched forward with brisk, synchronized steps, their heavy leather holsters creaking with every movement. They ascended the wooden steps and flanked Commander Sullivan.
"Commander Brock Sullivan," Vance stated formally. "By order of the Commander, Naval Special Warfare Command, and under the authority of the Office of the Inspector General, you are relieved of command for cause."
Brock stood frozen. His eyes were wide, glassy, staring at nothing.
"Surrender your sidearm," the Master Chief barked from the top platform.
Master Chief Ross walked down the stairs, his heavy face set in stone. He stood before the commander he had served for four years. Without waiting for Sullivan to comply, Ross reached out, unclipped the retention strap on Brock’s holster, and removed the Sig Sauer 9mm service pistol. He cleared the chamber with a sharp snap, caught the ejected round in mid-air, and placed the weapon into an evidence bag held by an aide.
"My Trident..." Brock whispered, tears of rage and humiliation finally gathering in the corners of his eyes. "You can't take my Trident."
I stepped forward until I was standing inches away from him.
"You took it off yourself, Commander," I said quietly. "The moment you used the power entrusted to you by the American people to bully those you considered beneath you."
Master Chief Ross reached out. His thick, scarred fingers took hold of the gold Special Warfare insignia pinned above Sullivan's left breast pocket.
With a sharp, tearing sound that echoed in the deathly quiet of the parade field, Ross pulled the Trident from Brock’s uniform.
The cloth frayed. The small holes where the pins had pierced the fabric remained—empty, dark, and hollow.
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The 1,040 troops watched in total silence. Not a single man flinched. Not a single officer protested. Among the younger enlisted men in the rear ranks, several chins lifted higher. The reign of terror that Brock Sullivan had imposed on this post was ending before their very eyes.
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