Chapter 15 - Trial by Saltwater
The pre-dawn fog hung over Hampton Roads like a shroud of damp cotton. Pier 12 was ablaze with halogen floodlights, their glaring beams reflecting off the colossal, grey-painted cliff of Hull 804—the *USS Titan*.
Banners fluttered along the gangway: *THE FUTURE OF AMERICAN VALOR.* Television broadcast vans with satellite dishes hummed along the tarmac. Richard Halston stood near the foot of the officer’s gangplank, dressed in a bespoke cashmere overcoat, holding court with a circle of fawning journalists and two rear admirals whose campaign stars had been bought and paid for by defense PACs.
Beside him stood Derek Halston, out on five-million-dollar bail, smirking, a cigar clutched between his teeth as he basked in the reflected power of his father’s political fortress.
"The allegations against Halston Dynamics were the tragic fabrications of an officer unable to cope with the physical realities of modern fleet engineering," Richard was saying smoothly into a cluster of microphones. "Today, the *Titan* will prove that American industrial excellence—"
The roar of twin diesel engines shattered the polished soundbite.
A matte-black naval police Humvee, escorted by two Shore Patrol cruisers with sirens screaming and flashers painting the concrete in stark red and blue, blew straight past the security checkpoint and screeched to a halt ten feet from the podium.
The reporters spun around. Cameras zoomed in.
The rear door opened. Out stepped Admiral Vance, all seventy-eight years of him, his medals clinking against the navy blue wool of his service coat, his four silver stars gleaming under the stadium lights.
And right beside him, descending with an unbroken, iron-hard cadence, was me.
I was in my Service Dress Blues, my gold Captain’s eagles catching the harsh white glare, my prosthetic leg exposed with deliberate pride beneath my skirt, the titanium gleaming like a battle blade.
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"What is the meaning of this circus?" Richard Halston snarled, his patrician mask slipping as he stepped toward the Admiral. "Captain Ellison is under active federal investigation! She has no authority to be within five hundred yards of this vessel!"
"Shut your mouth, Richard," Admiral Vance thundered, his voice carrying the authority of fifty years of command. "You are speaking to the Chief Inspector of Fleet Integrity. And by order of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, this vessel is placed under emergency technical quarantine."
