Chapter 6 - The Horizon
Six months later.
The sun was rising over the Atlantic Ocean at Naval Station Norfolk. The sky was a brilliant canvas of gold, lavender, and deep oceanic blue.
Standing at Pier 12 was the USS Gerald R. Ford—a hundred-thousand-ton nuclear aircraft carrier, her grey steel hull towering over the water, her flight deck lined with F-35 stealth fighters.
Standing on the quarterdeck in my full whites, holding a pair of ceremonial binoculars, I looked out over the three thousand sailors lined up along the flight deck for the fleet inspection.
Beside me, sitting in a brand-new, motorized wheelchair designed for outdoor terrain, was my father. He wore a dark blue Navy cap with two silver stars embroidered on the front—my stars.
"She's beautiful, isn't she, Dad?" I whispered, leaning down beside him as the morning sea breeze rustled our uniforms.
Arthur looked up at the massive warship, then at the thousands of young men and women standing at attention, and finally at me—his daughter, the Rear Admiral commanding the entire strike group.
"She is, Maya," Arthur said, his voice ringing strong and clear over the sound of the ocean waves. "She really is."
The ship's quartermaster raised his microphone, his voice echoing across the pier speakers:
"Naval Station Norfolk, attention on deck! Rear Admiral Maya Barker, Commanding!"
May you like
Three thousand sailors snapped to a synchronized, thunderous salute.
I stood tall beside my father, raised my hand to my cover, and rendered a salute back to the fleet—a girl who had once walked away with a black trash bag, who had built an ocean out of her own strength, and who was now leading the world into the light.
