The Call to the Lion’s Den
The intercom on the desk buzzed, breaking the silence like a gunshot: “Lieutenant Thompson. Admiral Callahan requests your immediate presence.”
My assistant’s voice was tense. Too tense. I knew something was up. I secured the tablet, the heart of my investigation, in the built-in safe. I wouldn’t leave any loose ends.
The walk to Command Building felt like a death march. The Marines stood at attention, but all I saw was history repeating itself. Lieutenant Commander Alex Parker, a noble and loyal man, gave me a look of genuine concern as he passed. “He’s been in a bad mood all morning,” he whispered. “Take care of yourself in there.” Bad mood. Yes, I suppose bad mood is the appropriate reaction when you realize that the man who swore to protect this fleet is handing over its weaponry to an enemy.
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