Chapter 4 - The Shadow of Three Stars
Every officer has a distinctive gait, but few carry the kind of presence that physically alters the atmospheric pressure of an enclosed room.
Rear Admiral Arthur Vance walked in.
He didn't have an entourage of aides or security details. He walked with two people: Captain Elizabeth Miller, the installation commanding officer, and a lieutenant commander carrying an all-weather black briefcase with dual biometric locks.
Admiral Vance was sixty-two years old, had iron-gray hair cut skin-tight, and wore three silver stars on each collar point of his working uniform. Beneath those stars sat a combat action ribbon with two gold stars, a Navy Cross ribbon, and a gold Trident that had been pinned to his chest before Jason Reed was even born.
The silence that fell over the galley was absolute.
"Room, ten-hut!" Commander Harris shouted, the arrogance draining from his voice so fast it sounded like he choked on his own tongue.
Seventy-eight recruits, nine instructors, two master-at-arms, and Harris snapped their heels together with a sound like a rifle crack.
Reed stood rigidly at attention, though his jaw remained clamped tight. Even a rogue SEAL knew better than to blink in front of a three-star admiral who had once commanded DEVGRU.
Admiral Vance didn't acknowledge the room. His cold, pale blue eyes swept past the standing recruits, past the frozen instructors, past the terrified galley workers, and locked directly onto the pool of spilled stew on the deck.
Then, his eyes moved to me.
He saw the blood drying on my jaw. He saw the slight tilt in my stance where my cracked ribs were pulling against my breathing.
A muscle beneath Vance’s left eye twitched once. It was the only tell the old man ever had, and to anyone who knew him, it meant someone was about to be professionally obliterated.
"Commander Harris," Vance’s voice was dangerously quiet.
"Sir!" Harris barked, stiff as granite.
"Why is my galley floor covered in food?" Vance asked, taking slow, measured steps toward us.
"Sir, an altercation occurred between Chief Reed and a transient rating," Harris explained hurriedly. "Chief Reed was attempting to maintain order, and the subject resisted. I was just having her remanded to the brig—"
"Quiet," Vance said.
He didn't shout. He didn't raise his pitch. But the single word hit Harris like a physical blow. The Commander's throat bobbed, and he swallowed hard.
Admiral Vance stopped three feet from Reed.
Reed kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, chin tucked, chest out. "Good afternoon, Admiral."
May you like
Vance didn't answer him. Instead, the Admiral turned to the officer carrying the black briefcase.
"Commander," Vance instructed softly. "Open it."
