The next morning...
Although the emergency summons had been made in secrecy, the ship was already buzzing with rumors. Whispers drifted through the corridors like invisible currents, carrying distorted versions of the events. No one knew exactly what had happened the previous night, but everyone knew something serious had taken place—and that Marin had been at the center of the storm. For some, she was the heroine who had prevented a tragedy. For others, the violent lieutenant who had sent three comrades to the infirmary. There was doubt, unease, even fear. The lack of official explanations only fed the discomfort. When she walked through the compartments toward Sullever's cabin, the stares were not disguised. Some pulled away, others fixed their eyes on her in silence, trying to decipher her. And Marin, even without knowing exactly what was being said, felt the weight of doubt pressing on her shoulders.
Once again, she walked alone.
Despite the obvious shock, the Lieutenant was not suspended under suspicion. Her role had been clear and decisive: she prevented the death of a subordinate, contained the aggression firmly, and maintained control of the situation until security arrived. After the incident, she spent the night in formal procedure, giving testimony and writing a detailed report delivered directly to the captain. Since there was no sign of negligence or omission in her conduct—on the contrary, her intervention was considered exemplary—the twenty-four-hour leave granted by command was only an administrative measure, out of respect for the emotional impact of the situation. Once that brief interval ended, she was called back to duty without restrictions, keeping her position of authority in the case as witness and officer responsible for containing the aggressors.
But not even twenty-four hours had passed when the Lieutenant was summoned to an emergency meeting.
That could only mean one thing:
Something big had happened.
Moments later...
Captain Sullever's office was drenched in gray light, filtered through thick clouds that covered the sky. The strong aroma of coffee filled the air, mingling with the metallic smell of freshly pressed uniforms. Marin adjusted her posture in the conference chair, eyes sharp as the officers took their seats in restrained silence.
The war grew fiercer by the day, and this meeting promised to be decisive.
At the center of the room, holographic maps projected an alarming scenario: coordinated attacks on three distinct fronts. The South Atlantic strait faced constant threat, and enemy submarines had broken through the blockades. The war, now without clear borders, spread across the globe, demanding the Navy's immediate response.
Sullever cleared his throat and began in a firm voice:
"The attacks were precise, coordinated, and devastating. We lost two destroyers and a submarine last night. Our frontline is compromised."
Tense murmurs rippled through the room. Marin kept her eyes fixed on the data, absorbing every detail.
"If they've already managed to infiltrate, it's only a matter of time before they go for our coastal bases," warned one of the lieutenants. "We need to reinforce our defenses now."
Marin leaned forward, her voice cutting like a blade:
"Strengthening defenses isn't enough. We need to strike back. If we just wait, we'll keep losing ground."
Sullever folded his arms, weighing her words.
"What's your suggestion, Lieutenant?"
She pointed at the holographic map with a precise gesture:
"The enemy relies on submarine infiltration. If we cut that route, we regain control. I propose an aggressive sweep with advanced patrols, along with the deployment of naval mines in vulnerable zones. We can use our own submarines for offensive sabotage and cut off their supply lines."
The officers turned to their leader, who nodded slowly.
"Your proposal makes sense. We'll begin preparations immediately."
Lieutenant Vasquez, a specialist in joint operations with the Air Force, spoke up:
"We'll need air support to guarantee success. If the Navy blocks submarine routes, the Air Force can secure the skies and protect our destroyers."
"What would the action plan be?" asked Sullever.
Vasquez expanded the hologram and pointed to strategic points:
"We can mobilize patrol fighters to protect ships from air attacks and deploy bombers to neutralize submarines that attempt to breach our lines. In addition, drones and surveillance aircraft can provide constant reconnaissance."
Marin added, with the certainty of someone who saw the board with clarity:
"Intelligence from the air can anticipate hostile moves. With precise data, our strikes will be surgical. We can stop the offensive before it even begins."
Sullever nodded once more, his voice grave:
"Agreed. We'll coordinate the Navy and the Air Force to ensure this offensive is decisive."
He paused.
Took a deep breath, as if carrying the weight of something deeper.
"There's another matter."
Silence fell.
All eyes turned to him.
"I've been summoned to the front line. I depart tomorrow."
THUD, THUD, THUD...
The impact of the news struck like muffled thunder. Marin felt her chest tighten. The captain, her mentor and direct commander, was now heading into the heart of the conflict.
They weren't just career companions. She saw him as a good friend.
One of the few she had.
The meeting was dismissed soon after.
One by one, the officers left the room. Marin remained in place at the captain's request, waiting until the last had gone. Only then did she rise and close the door firmly.
Sullever sighed, leaning back in his chair as if he had aged a decade in just a few hours.
He felt old, even though he was still two years shy of turning sixty.
"I want to talk about the report from last night."
THUD, THUD, THUD...
His tone changed.
Graver, direct.
"I read everything and gave it a lot of thought. You followed protocol. Grayson's rescue was carried out without flaw. After treatment by the local medical team, he had to be airlifted to a military hospital due to broken ribs."
"I regret what happened to the Corporal... I did what had to be done," Marin replied, curt.
"Grayson didn't reveal the cause of the fight. The others also stayed silent. They're trying to avoid immediate expulsion and imprisonment, but your report complicates their case."
He laced his fingers, his face stern.
"How did this happen? You allowed this situation to unfold under your supervision. You were in command. Now we have soldiers detained; one of them, a sergeant."
THUD, THUD, THUD...
The words hit Marin like a punch.
"I trusted your leadership. Was it too soon?"
She held his gaze, firm.
"There was no way to foresee..."
THUD, THUD, THUD...
"It's not about foreseeing, Marin. It's about anticipating. If you want to be in command, you need to keep control before things spiral out of hand."
She nodded, in silence.
"I need you to go ashore. Grayson still hasn't testified. Maybe he'll only talk to you."
"Understood."
Sullever looked at her intently.
"It's your duty to resolve this as quickly as possible. We have more urgent priorities. If it were another time, I'd handle this more calmly... But we're at war."
He paused, his eyes heavy on her.
"You're competent. I know that. But a situation like this can be misinterpreted by the higher-ups. They'll say you're a problem... that you attract trouble, or that you are the trouble. You know the crap they insinuate about you. You're not naive. You understand what I'm saying?"
THUD, THUD, THUD...
"Yes, sir."
"I don't want a mistake like this to destroy everything you've built. You just need more time to earn your own respect, but I fear we don't have that time to spare."
A brief silence lingered, broken only by the faint hum of the holographic projector still on.
"And there's something else..." he continued. "Ramires and the others had a history of infractions. There were always people covering for them in that old camaraderie politics. Now they're detained. And yes, we lost a sergeant. In times like these, every man counts. But you know..."
He clenched his fists on the table, his voice low, as if speaking more to himself than to her:
"'Rotten apples spoil the whole barrel.'"
Marin stayed silent.
"Sooner or later, this was bound to happen. The system tolerates too much garbage... until someone steps in to 'take it out.'"
He exhaled heavily.
"War doesn't choose who lives or dies. The strong protect the weak. And if we don't... others will do the opposite."
THUD, THUD, THUD...
She listened, her expression unchanged, though her heart clenched.
"You've been weak before. So you understand this better than anyone."
His words hung in the air, a painful echo. Marin lowered her eyes, absorbing each syllable as if they were stones hurled at her chest.
Sullever then stood and turned toward her.
"We don't know what will happen. But I need you to take good care of everything."
Marin hesitated for a second. She stepped closer and extended her hand.
"Good luck, Captain."
He shook her hand firmly.
Smiled.
A discreet smile, hidden under his beard.
And with that, he left.
She remained there for a while, alone, gazing through the window at the gray ocean beneath the overcast sky.
The smell of salt, the shadow of war, and the weight of responsibility mingled in the air.
For the first time in many years, Marin felt fear.
Fear of losing someone important to her. But it was not the time to be pessimistic.
She had to see Grayson as quickly as possible.
To be continued...