Chapter 7 - The Arrest of Command
Isabella looked past Halden’s shoulder toward the back of the mess hall.
"Sergeant Reeves."
Reeves flinched, dropped his salute, and stepped forward instantly. "Yes, General!"
"You've been the senior NCO of this logistics company for two years," she said, her gaze pinning Reeves to the spot. "You knew what he was doing. You stood by and watched him torment these young soldiers because you were afraid for your career."
Reeves swallowed the bitter lump of truth in his throat. He did not make an excuse. "Yes, Ma'am. I have no excuse, Ma'am."
"At least you don't lie," Isabella said, her tone unyielding. "Consider yourself under administrative reprimand pending formal inquiry. But right now, you have a duty to perform."
"Orders, General?" Reeves asked, his voice hardening with newfound resolve.
Isabella pointed at Halden. "Relieve Major Richard Halden of his sidearm. Strip him of his duty belt, his identification credentials, and his command keys. Place him under arrest for aggravated assault on a superior officer and cruelty toward subordinates."
Halden’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "You can't do this! I am the base commander! I demand representation! I demand a formal hearing before the regional division—"
"You will have your hearing, Richard," Isabella interrupted, her voice dropping into a register of utter finality. "Before a general court-martial. At Fort Leavenworth."
Sergeant Reeves did not hesitate this time.
With two long strides, Reeves closed the distance to Halden. He did not show the hesitation he had displayed five minutes prior. With practiced, forceful movements, Reeves unbuckled Halden’s leather duty belt, sliding the holstered Beretta sidearm free and handing it to First Sergeant Miller behind him.
Halden tried to pull away, but Reeves clamped a heavy hand onto the Major’s shoulder, using the exact leverage of non-commissioned officer authority that Halden had perverted for months.
"Stand still, sir," Reeves ordered, his voice flat, stern, and entirely devoid of fear.
Halden looked around wildly at the faces of his soldiers.
Every face was turned against him. The young privates he had humiliated, the corporals he had threatened, the specialists he had worked to the point of exhaustion—they all stood at rigid attention, watching his public execution with cold, unblinking eyes. Not a single hand moved to help him. Not a single voice rose in his defense.
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Isabella slipped the two silver stars back into her inner pocket. She reached out, plucked the clean paper napkin from the dispenser once more, and wiped a remaining speck of gravy from her cuff.
"Take him to the holding facility at the Provost Marshal's post," she ordered Reeves. "He is not to communicate with any personnel, he is not to touch any digital terminal, and he is to be fed standard field rations on an aluminum tray."
