Chapter 9 - The Reckoning

The administrative offices of Naval Amphibious Base Coronado were quiet at 1000.
The morning sun had finally broken through the coastal overcast, sending bright, sharp rectangles of light through the blinds of Captain Keller’s conference room. The polished mahogany table smelled of lemon wax, and the brass ship’s clock on the wall ticked with a rhythmic, indifferent cadence.
Ethan sat in a steel folding chair opposite the desk.
He had showered, but he hadn't been able to scrub the blue stain completely off the back of his neck. His skin was raw and red from the stiff bristle brush he had used in the barracks latrine. He was wearing an old set of service khakis—no warfare devices, no ribbons, no unit patches.
The door opened, and Daniel Price walked in, followed by Senior Chief Hale.
Daniel was wearing the clean, crisp working uniform of a Troop Chief. On his collar was the new anchor insignia he had received two hours ago. He didn't look at Ethan as he took his seat at the far end of the table.
Captain Keller entered last, carrying a thick manila folder. He sat down behind the desk, his face set in hard, exhausted lines.
"We’re on the record," Keller said, pressing the record button on a small digital device in the center of the table. "Administrative review board regarding the status of Lieutenant Ethan Cole, United States Navy."
Keller opened the folder.
"Lieutenant Cole," Keller said, not looking up from the documents. "You have been formally detached from Task Force Trident pursuant to an Article 133 inquiry—conduct unbecoming an officer—and Article 92—failure to obey a lawful general order regarding operational readiness and standards of conduct."
Ethan stared at the mahogany wood. "Yes, sir."
"The Admiral has elected not to proceed with a general court-martial," Keller continued. "Given your... prior service record and the recommendation of the Senior Chief, she has authorized an administrative reduction of billet and non-punitive transfer."
Ethan felt a faint, bitter spark of life return to his chest. *No court-martial. No brig time.*
"However," Keller said, lifting his eyes, and the look in them was cold enough to kill the spark instantly. "She has placed an official Letter of Reprimand into your permanent electronic record. The letter was drafted by the Admiral herself."
Keller turned the paper around and slid it across the table.
Ethan looked at the words.
*...Lieutenant Cole has demonstrated a catastrophic deficiency in basic situational awareness, moral integrity, and the fundamental principles of leadership. His actions in an open dining facility reflected an intolerable contempt for the enlisted personnel and support staff upon whom all combat operations depend. He has proven himself unfit for command of maritime operational assets...*
The signature at the bottom was written in black, slashing strokes: **SARAH VANCE, VICE ADMIRAL, USN.**
"This letter will follow you to every duty station for the remainder of your service," Keller said. "You will not be eligible for promotion to Lieutenant Commander. You will not be considered for any operational billet, instructional cadre, or staff leadership position. You will serve out the remainder of your statutory service obligation as an assistant logistics officer at NSA Souda Bay."
Keller closed the folder with a heavy, final *thud*.
"Your flight leaves from San Diego International at six o'clock tomorrow morning. You will fly commercial. You will travel in civilian clothes. You will report to the executive officer at Souda Bay by eighteen-hundred on Thursday."
Keller stood up.
"You are dismissed, Cole."
Ethan stood up. His knees were stiff, his body aching from the bruises he had received in the kill house. He looked at Daniel Price.
"Daniel," Ethan croaked.
Daniel looked up. His eyes were not angry anymore. They were simply empty.
"Good luck in Greece, Ethan," Daniel said softly.
"You’re not going to shake my hand?" Ethan asked, his voice cracking. "We served three years together. We ran seventy operations together."
Daniel stood up, adjusting his new chief’s cover under his arm.
"We operated together, Ethan," Daniel said. "We didn't serve together. You served yourself. It took an Admiral with an empty tray to show me the difference."
Daniel turned and walked out of the room, followed by Senior Chief Hale, who paused at the door just long enough to look at Ethan one last time.
"The potatoes were twelve bucks, Cole," Hale said quietly. "Hope the flight was worth it."
The door clicked shut.
May you like
Ethan stood alone in the bright, silent conference room, staring at the black recorder on the table until the green light flickered and went out.
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