Chapter 5
Ethan kept silent, sensing that praise from these pages was merely a foundation for a far heavier hammer. He waited for the blow, his fingers digging hard into his knees through trousers.
"Not one supervisor noted your lack of character," Victoria murmured. "They mistook bravado for courage, cruelty for edge, and swagger for command capability. They allowed a spoiled boy to become a dangerous officer."
"I am ready for whatever punishment you choose, General," Ethan whispered. "I will sign non-judicial punishment papers or accept a court-martial without defense if that is what the command requires."
"A court-martial is too easy," she stated calmly. "You would resign, hire a civilian defense attorney, claim burnout from combat stress, and preserve your ego by convincing yourself you were persecuted."
Ethan looked up, bewildered by her statement. He had expected an administrative discharge, a dishonorable separation that would end his military trajectory and send him home in permanent civilian obscurity.
"You will not hide behind a court-martial, Lieutenant," she continued, standing from her chair. She walked around the desk, stopping two paces away, towering over him despite her modest physical height.
"Starting this morning, your security clearance is suspended," she ordered clearly. "Your sidearm is surrendered to the armory. Your operational duties with the assault troop are terminated until further command review."
Ethan felt his stomach plummet into icy space. The assault troop was his life, the only family he had known for six years; losing his position was worse than any prison confinement.
"Where am I assigned, Ma'am?" he asked, his voice shaking despite his efforts to appear stoic. He prepared himself for a remote radar station or an administrative desk in some sub-basement.
"You will report to Chief Master-at-Arms Rodriguez at Naval Support Services," Victoria declared. "You will be assigned to Facilities Maintenance and Culinary Operations for ninety consecutive calendar days."
The room grew so silent that Ethan could hear the buzzing filament inside the overhead lamp. He blinked once, wondering if he had misunderstood her words through the roar of his pounding pulse.
"Culinary operations, General?" he repeated, the question slipping past his defenses before he could catch it. He felt the phantom taste of mashed potatoes and spilled greens filling his mouth.
Chapter 4
"You will wash pots, scrub floors, mop decks, and serve food to every enlisted recruit and support technician on this installation," she answered. "You will wear an untagged dungaree uniform without rank insignia."