He looked at his mother, his jaw slightly open.

“Mother?” Michael said.

His voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of the word.

“I was doing what was best for the family,” Helen said, her voice rising in pitch, losing its polished edge.

She looked at the officers around her, her eyes darting from face to face.

“Michael has a family. He has a future in the Navy. Emerson was always… detached.”

“She was saving lives, Mrs. Rogers,” Captain Hayes said.

Hayes stepped forward, his prosthetic leg clicking faintly on the hardwood floor.

“She saved mine. While you were writing letters to bury her career.”

I kept my eyes forward, but I could see Michael out of the corner of my eye.

He was looking down at the floor, his hands trembling at his sides.

The golden stripes on his sleeve suddenly looked very heavy.

He looked at me, then at the paper in Hayes’ hand.

“Did you do that?” Michael asked his mother.

Helen didn’t answer him. She was staring at Drummond.

“This is a misunderstanding,” Helen said. “This is an administrative oversight.”