Chapter 6 - The Unbroken Salute
Admiral Vance stopped three feet from my table.
He completely bypassed Miller, cutting him off as if the young SEAL lieutenant were nothing more than a coat rack.
Miller stood frozen in mid-salute, his mouth slightly open, confusion flickering across his features. His teammates, still standing at rigid attention, exchanged nervous, alarmed glances.
The Admiral stood before me.
He looked down at the empty water glass. He looked at the tarnished metal UDT card lying beside the worn leather pouch.
Then, Rear Admiral Thomas Vance did something that made every single person in that room stop breathing.
His heels clicked together with a sharp, crisp *snap*.
His spine straightened.
He brought his right hand up to the brim of his cover in a salute so sharp, so rigid, and so fiercely disciplined that you could see the tendons straining in his forearm.
It was not a ceremonial salute. It was not a polite nod.
It was the salute an officer renders to a living legend.
Beside him, the Force Master Chief—a man who had killed enemies on three continents and had never been seen smiling—snapped his own salute, holding it with trembling, white-hot reverence.
"Captain," Admiral Vance spoke, his voice vibrating through the silent galley. "Permission to join you, sir?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Miller’s face went from flushed pink to the pale, bloodless color of skim milk. His eyes bulged as his brain fought desperately to process the syllables that had just come out of a Two-Star Admiral's mouth.
*Captain.*
Not old man. Not civilian. Not trespasser.
*Captain.*
I sat there for a long moment, letting the silence hang over the young lieutenant’s head like a guillotine blade suspended by a fraying thread.
Slowly, I pushed my chair back an inch. I didn't jump up to return the salute; my knees were too stiff for theatrics. Instead, I gave a slight, tired nod of my head.
"At ease, Tom," I said quietly. "You’re making a scene."
"With all due respect, Captain," Vance said, slowly dropping his salute, his face breaking into an expression of profound, humble affection, "if anyone in this Navy deserves a scene, it’s you."
The Force Master Chief dropped his salute next, stepping forward and extending two massive, calloused hands to grasp mine.
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"Master Chief Hayes, sir," the granite-faced veteran said, bowing his head slightly. "It is the greatest honor of my thirty-year career to finally shake your hand, Captain Sterling."
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