“So do good officers,” Vance said, stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back again.

“You showed him what a real officer looks like today, Sarah.”

The once-loose fastener now sat firm and solid against the crisp fabric of my dress tunic.

“Thank you, General,” I said quietly.

“The airline’s holding the bridge for Flight 1482,” Vance said, picking up my canvas duffel by its webbing strap.

“Let’s get you onto that plane.”

We left the administrative hallway together and stepped back out into the bright, open spaces of Concourse C, where the noise of the crowd rushed in to meet us like warm air from an opened oven.

The evening crowd of business travelers, families and airline staff flowed through the concourse, unaware of the four stars on Vance’s collar or the red command seal tucked inside my travel folder.