“You will meet with Arthur Bennett whenever he is willing to see you.”
Logan’s voice became quieter.
“Why would he agree to that?”
Master Chief Thorn looked toward the photograph.
“Maybe he thinks you’re still worth the trouble.”
The captain dismissed him.
Logan walked into the California sunlight carrying the documents that confirmed his humiliation.
His teammates did not wait outside.
For the first time since earning the Trident, he left a command building completely alone.
The mess-hall confrontation had begun three days earlier at twelve fourteen in the afternoon.
The dining facility at Naval Amphibious Base Coronado was crowded with sailors, Marines, civilian employees, and visiting personnel.
Conversations overlapped beneath the hum of ventilation fans. Trays struck tables. Silverware scraped plates. The smell of industrial chili mixed with coffee, disinfectant, grilled chicken, and the salt air entering whenever the doors opened.
Logan Briggs entered with two teammates.
Petty Officer Mason Cole walked on his right.
Petty Officer Derek Lane followed behind.
All three had just finished a demanding morning training block. Their uniforms were clean enough for the dining facility, but the marks around their eyes revealed fatigue.
Logan carried himself differently from the other men.
He was six feet three inches tall, heavily muscled, and moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to being the most dangerous person in almost every room.
He had completed two combat deployments.
He had been decorated for actions during a hostage-recovery mission.