The silver star on my shoulder felt heavy.

“Let’s go,” I said.

***

Briefing Room B was a windowless space in the basement of the headquarters.

It smelled of fresh paint, carpet cleaner, and old paper.

A long mahogany table stood in the center of the room, flanked by six high-backed chairs.

Captain Vance, a strict woman with thirty years of service, stood up and saluted when I entered.

Lieutenant Commander Harris, the JAG officer, did the same.

“Good morning, Admiral,” Vance said.

“Good morning,” I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. “Please, sit.”

They sat down, opening their respective notebooks.

“We are here to review the operational discrepancies in the command logs of Commander Nathan Reed,” I said. “This is a formal inquiry.”

“The Commander is waiting outside, Ma’am,” Harris said. “He seemed under the impression this was a routine fitness report review.”

“He was misinformed,” I said. “Bring him in.”

Miller opened the heavy wooden door and nodded to someone in the hallway.

Nathan Reed walked into the room.

He looked confident, his posture straight, his service dress uniform immaculate.