Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Ethan pulled the handle and stepped inside, bringing his heels together with a sharp crack that rattled the brass trim on his shoes. He snapped a rigid salute, staring straight ahead at bare wall.
"Lieutenant Ethan Cole reporting as ordered, Ma'am," he shouted, his vocal cords raw from stress. His eyes remained locked on a framed photograph of a desert landing zone hanging straight across the room.
Victoria Hayes sat behind a simple metal desk without paperwork or modern monitors. She was dressed in service khaki now, her four silver stars shining brightly under the warm lamp beside her elbow.
On her chest rested three neat rows of campaign ribbons, led by the pale blue ribbon of the Medal of Honor. Its gold stars glimmered softly, making Ethan's throat close with profound shame.
"Take a seat, Lieutenant," she said quietly, gesturing toward an armless metal chair positioned opposite her desk. She did not return his salute, leaving his arm suspended until he slowly dropped it.
He sat on the edge of the chair, his spine straight as an iron rod, hands planted flat on his knees. His uniform was damp with nervous sweat despite the chill flowing from air vents.
"Tell me what you saw when you looked at me yesterday, Ethan," she said, leaning back slightly and folding her hands over her lap. Her gray-green eyes were clear, piercing through his practiced military veneer.
"I saw an unauthorized civilian or retired contractor in our section, Ma'am," he answered rigidly. He recited the defense he had rehearsed all night, hoping structure might shield him from disgrace.
"You saw an old woman," Victoria corrected him gently, cutting through his rehearsed vocabulary without raising her tone. "You saw silver hair, a faded jacket without rank, and an empty seat you felt entitled to claim."
Ethan swallowed hard, unable to maintain his gaze against her steady eyes. "Yes, Ma'am. I allowed arrogance to override basic human decency. I have disgraced my uniform and failed my commission."
"Spare me the board-certified apologies," she replied, her voice cooling by several degrees. "I do not care about your hurt feelings or your sudden realization that cameras were operating inside the cafeteria."
She pulled open a side drawer and removed a manila folder identical to Mercer's file. She dropped it between them, where it slid across polished metal and tapped lightly against Ethan’s thumbs.
"These are four years of performance evaluations from your previous assignments," she explained. "Every superior officer praised your physical endurance, your weapons handling, and your operational aggression during field deployments."