Chapter 9 - THE DEMAND FOR RETRACTION
Rachel refolded the heavy parchment paper with precise, swift movements, slipping it back into the inner pocket of her olive field jacket, safely hidden away from prying eyes once again.
She turned her full attention back to Lieutenant Brandon Carter.
"You have two choices right now, Lieutenant," Rachel said, her voice dropping into an unyielding command structure. "Choice one: you switch that microphone back on, step up to center court, and issue a full, formal, public apology to my son, to these handlers, and to every student in this gymnasium for misrepresenting military history."
Carter swallowed hard, his knuckles white around the black casing of the microphone. "And... and choice two, Ma'am?"
Rachel’s eyes turned cold as winter ice. "Choice two: I make one phone call to Rear Admiral Vance at Naval Special Warfare Command in Coronado, and I hand him this document alongside the security footage from this gymnasium's ceiling cameras. By tomorrow morning, your commission will be under review, and you'll be reassigned to a desk in Adak, Alaska, counting inventory on rusty anchors."
Chief Ramirez let out a quiet, subtle grunt of approval, crossing his thick arms over his chest.
Carter didn't hesitate for a single second. The sheer weight of Rachel's authority left zero room for negotiation.
With shaking fingers, Carter flipped the power switch on the wireless microphone back to the 'ON' position. A sharp green LED light flickered to life on the casing.
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He took two stiff, awkward steps toward the absolute center of the court, clearing his throat loudly into the microphone. The sound echoed off the high cinderblock walls, catching the attention of the entire, silent audience in the bleachers.
"Attention... attention, everyone," Carter stammered, his voice echoing through the massive space, stripped of every ounce of its previous arrogance. "I... I need to correct a statement I made earlier."
