The passengers in rows three and four stared openly, their own conversations forgotten.

A Delta gate agent in a dark blue blazer stepped carefully around the black stanchions, holding a small ring of brass keys.

She looked at the four shining stars on General Vance’s collar, then at the frozen cluster of uniformed men blocking the boarding lane.

“Excuse me, General,” the gate agent said softly, her voice full of careful respect.

“Is everything all right over here?

Other passengers are starting to ask about the holdup.”