He wore a formal fictional officer uniform and carried a thick inspection binder.
Beside him stood Commander Ellis.
A forty-two-year-old woman with dark hair secured in a bun.
Ellis was assisting with the review.
The officers formed two neat rows.
Blackwood glanced around the room.
His eyes moved across the polished floor.
The inspection table.
The archive wall.
Then toward the maintenance cart near the right doorway.
He stopped.
Thorn was quietly preparing to move the cart out of the inspection area.
But before he could leave, Blackwood stepped forward.
He placed one polished boot against the front wheel.
The cart stopped abruptly.
Thorn looked up.
Blackwood pointed.
**“You. Maintenance.”**
The room became quiet.
Thorn lowered the mop handle.
“Yes, sir?”
Blackwood looked at the cart.
“Do you understand we’re conducting an official inspection?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then why is your equipment still in this room?”
“I was finishing the floor before the inspection began.”
Blackwood glanced toward the officers.
“Apparently, someone didn’t receive the schedule.”
A few officers chuckled.
Thorn didn’t respond.
He simply looked toward the cart.
“I can move it now.”
But Blackwood wasn’t finished.
He had noticed the audience.
And he seemed pleased by the opportunity to demonstrate authority.
—
The commander circled half a step around Thorn.
“What’s your name?”
“Thorn Calloway.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eight years.”
Blackwood raised his eyebrows.
“Eight years cleaning this place?”
Thorn nodded.
Chapter 4
Several officers laughed quietly.
Blackwood folded his arms.
“Eight years.”
He repeated the words as though the number itself were embarrassing.
Thorn remained still.
His expression showed no discomfort.
No anger.
No defensiveness.
That calmness seemed to irritate Blackwood.
He looked toward the surrounding officers.
“Gentlemen, this is what happens when a man spends his entire career avoiding responsibility.”
The laughter grew.
Commander Ellis looked uncomfortable.
Captain Hargrove lowered his eyes toward the inspection binder.
But Thorn didn’t react.
Blackwood stepped closer.
He placed one hand lightly on Thorn’s shoulder.
Then smiled.
**“So tell us, old timer—what rank were you?”**
The room broke into louder laughter.
Blackwood was clearly expecting an answer like private.
Perhaps corporal.
Or maybe an admission that Thorn had never served at all.
He wanted the officers to see the difference between a decorated commander and a maintenance worker.
But Thorn didn’t look embarrassed.
He slowly raised his head.
Met Blackwood’s eyes.
And answered.
**“Major General.”**
—
The laughter faded.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Blackwood stared.
Then gave a disbelieving smile.
“Very funny.”
Thorn said nothing.
The commander shook his head.
“Major General?”
Thorn remained calm.
“Yes, sir.”
Blackwood laughed again.
But the officers didn’t join him this time.
Several exchanged uncertain looks.
Commander Ellis glanced toward Hargrove.
Chapter 5
Something about Thorn’s answer seemed too steady to be an ordinary joke.
He hadn’t smiled.
Hadn’t tried to impress anyone.
Hadn’t exaggerated.
He’d simply stated a fact.
At the rear-left side of the room, Captain Hargrove stopped turning pages.
His eyes had caught a familiar name.
The inspection binder contained copies of older institutional documents.
Among them was a historical command-review ledger used to explain how Northstar’s original inspection standards were established.
Hargrove looked down.
Then read the entry again.
**CALLOWAY, THORN — COMMAND REVIEW CHAIR**
He froze.
His eyes moved from the page to the maintenance worker.
Then back to the ledger.
The name matched.
But that wasn’t all.
The entry carried a historical appointment date.
A record of the original command-review council.
And a reference to Northstar’s first inspection charter.
Hargrove swallowed.
He looked toward Commander Ellis.
She noticed his expression.
“What is it?”
He turned the binder slightly.
Ellis leaned closer.
Her eyes widened.
Then both looked toward Thorn.
—
Blackwood was still smiling.
“Major General. That’s quite a claim.”
Thorn rested one hand on the mop cart.
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t reach for documents.
Didn’t insist that anyone believe him.
He simply waited.
Hargrove stepped forward.
“Commander.”
Blackwood glanced back.
“What?”
Hargrove looked from the ledger to Thorn.
His expression was serious.
**“Admiral… that name is in the original standards.”**
Blackwood’s smile weakened.
“What name?”
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