The Retirement

There was some commotion from the group at the other end of the room, and Smith noticed a puzzled look cross the chief’s face. She looked over her shoulder, noticing two men joining the group. One handed a folder to a man sitting with his back to them.

She looked back toward Chief Mike Skier. “What’s the problem, Chief?”

“Sorry, Commander,” answered Skier, still looking troubled, “but I think I know that guy who brought in the folder.”

“Good,” replied Smith, “maybe he can tell us what the hell is going on here.”

The chief shook his head, still looking troubled. “The problem is, Commander, he was listed as KIA several years ago. His whole team was ambushed on a mission, a few made it back, but he was killed. A burned body was found with his dog tags on it.”

“May I ask how you know all that, Chief?” Smith asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“I was on that team, Commander. I was wounded and made it back. Something funny, though—we all thought there was more to our being ambushed. His old man’s an admiral or something and went searching for him for a couple of years, then suddenly stopped.”

The color drained from Smith’s face when her past came rushing back to her in a flood of memories. It was the chief’s turn to look at her skeptically.

“Chief, this is important,” she said, locking eyes with the man. “His last name wouldn’t be Summers, would it?”