Chapter 7 - The Handshake of Kings
On the emerald turf of the arena floor, Emma was surrounded by a wall of high-ranking military leaders.
"Extraordinary speech, Lieutenant Lawson," said General Thomas of Army Material Command, shaking her hand with an iron grip. "I’ve read your analytical paper on maritime transport vulnerabilities. It was ruthless, accurate, and completely exposed four of our commercial contractors who were overcharging us for subpar shipping containers."
"Thank you, General," Emma said with crisp professionalism. "I look forward to presenting the full audit to your staff on Monday."
"Oh, we’ll be ready," General Thomas smiled thinly. "We’re cleaning house this quarter. No more favors for sleazy corporate middlemen."
Beside them, Congressman Vance approached Emma, holding a small decorative box containing an engraved Congressional medallion.
"Lieutenant Lawson," Vance said with genuine warmth. "Your late mother was a cousin of my wife’s family. She was a woman of tremendous dignity. Today, you honored her memory more than words can say."
Emma felt a lump rise in her throat, but she held her chin high. "Thank you, Congressman. That means more to me than you know."
Vance glanced toward the VIP exit, where a commotion was developing near the security barricade. "I believe some... unwanted guests are trying to reach you."
Emma turned her head.
Richard Lawson had broken past the lower tier usher, practically dragging Sandra and Brooke behind him. His tie was crooked, his hair disheveled from the rain and wind, his face an oily mask of frantic, desperate charm.
"Emma! Emma, sweetheart!" Richard shouted, waving his arms as he pushed through a group of stunned junior lieutenants.
Emma did not move. She stood flanked by General Grant and Congressman Vance, her MacArthur Saber resting securely at her left hip.
Two armed MPs intercepted Richard ten feet away, their wooden batons drawn horizontally across their chests. "Halt! Keep your distance from the official delegation!"
"Wait! Officers, stand down! I am her father!" Richard yelled, his voice cracking with hysterics. "Emma, tell them! Tell them who I am!"
Emma looked at him.
There was no hatred in her eyes. No burning fury. No desire to scream.
There was only a vast, glacial void of absolute indifference. And that, Richard realized with a sickening lurch in his gut, was infinitely worse.
"Lieutenant Lawson," General Grant said calmly, without looking at Richard. "Do you know this civilian?"
Richard stared at Emma, his eyes pleading, filled with the desperate hunger of a drowning man. "Emma... please. It’s Dad. I made a mistake outside. I didn't understand the schedule! Sandra and Brooke—we’re so proud of you! We came all this way to celebrate your achievement!"
Sandra immediately stepped up, trying to force a maternal smile through her panic. "Emma, darling! Look at you! We were crying tears of joy during your speech! Brooke has been so inspired by you!"
Brooke nodded rapidly, holding out her phone. "Emma, let’s take a picture together! The media is right there—"
Emma looked at her stepsister. Then her gaze dropped to the gold VIP credential pass that Brooke was still wearing around her neck.
Emma took two measured steps forward. The MPs parted slightly to let their First Captain through.
She stopped two feet from Richard. The smell of his expensive cigar and aftershave was identical to an hour ago. But the power dynamic had completely inverted.
"Dad," Emma said softly.
Richard’s face lit up with a spark of hope. "Yes, baby! Tell these guards to let us through. Let’s go to the private reception. We need to talk to General Thomas about the supply contract—"
"You shoved me into the rain, Richard," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the sharp, cold edge of a surgeon’s scalpel.
Richard froze.
"You took my pass," Emma continued, looking at Brooke. "You told me I was one cadet among hundreds. You told me nobody would care."
"I was stressed, Emma! The business—"
May you like
"Your business is over," Emma said calmly.
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