The bailiff took the paper, pushed up his reading glasses, and studied the red command stamp at the bottom of the page.

His partner eyed my Kevlar vest, then the thick blue-bound legal dossier poking out of my breast pocket.

“She’s active duty, Tom,” the younger bailiff said quietly.

“That paper’s sealed by the state depot.”

“Where are you headed, Commander?” Tom asked, passing the paper back to me.

“Courtroom Three,” I said.

“Judge Reynolds is on the bench.”

Tom stepped to one side and pointed toward the marble staircase.