Hendricks, humiliated and rigid, slowly raised his hand to his brow.
Sarah looked at the sea of salutes. She didn't return them—she was technically out of uniform—but she gave Davidson a single, sharp nod of acknowledgment.
She turned to Hendricks, her brown eyes completely devoid of warmth.
"My call sign," she said, her voice dropping the quiet maintenance-worker facade and adopting the cold, hardened edge of a tier-one ghost, "is Wraith. And if you ever speak to any member of your support staff the way you spoke to me today, I will personally demonstrate what else I can dismantle in under twelve seconds."
Without waiting for a response, she bent down, picked up her mop, and walked past the paralyzed admiral. The crowd parted for her instantly, clearing a path all the way down the long, polished corridor.
No one spoke until she turned the corner and disappeared.