My mother took a step toward me, her hand still extended.

“Emily,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Before she could say another word, the red light on the General’s desk phone flashed again.

The General picked up the receiver.

His face remained neutral as he listened.

“This is the commander,” he said.

He listened for a long moment, his eyes scanning the paperwork scattered across his desk.

“Understood,” he said. “Have the transport ready by fifteen hundred hours. The federal prosecutors are already on their way from San Antonio.”

He set the phone back down on its cradle with a heavy click.

The plastic keys of the console glowed a steady, silent green.

“The wheels are turning, Colonel Parker,” the General said, looking at me.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

My voice was steady, but my throat felt dry.

The General stood up, adjusting his duty belt.

“I will give you a moment with your family,” he said. “I need to coordinate with the base legal counsel down the hall.”

He walked to the door, his boots clicking on the linoleum.