An Airman shoved me and told me to go shine his boots, completely unaware that I was the new commander assigned to save his life.

The security operators who had rushed down the aisle slowly stepped back, snapping into rigid, flawless attention as they realized the stature of the woman standing before them. Across the tiered rows of the operations floor, officers and enlisted airmen stood up from their chairs, their eyes following her every movement with profound respect.

A senior duty officer, a Lieutenant Colonel wearing full combat fatigues, walked rapidly down the center aisle, his face pale as he approached the console.

"Ma'am," the Lieutenant Colonel said, coming to a sharp halt and executing a crisp salute. "We were not expecting you on the floor until the 0900 briefing."

The Incoming Commander raised her hand slightly, returning a brief, precise nod to acknowledge the salute without unzipping her fleece.

"An operations floor does not begin at 0900, Colonel," she replied calmly, her dark eyes scanning the vast room. "It runs twenty-four hours a day. And if our front-line operators freeze at 0400, our pilots do not make it to breakfast."

The Lieutenant Colonel swallowed hard, casting a dark glance at Nash, who looked as if he wished the marble floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Shall I clear the floor for your official arrival, Ma'am?" the Colonel asked respectfully.