The old man looked around the courtyard.
Hundreds of cadets were watching.
Then he said quietly:
“Lower the rifle.”
Marcus didn't.
“Why?”
“Because you have already made your point.”
“No.”
Marcus's voice became louder.
“I haven't.”
The commander stepped forward.
“Cadet Hale.”
Marcus turned.
“Sir?”
“Lower the weapon.”
Marcus obeyed.
The old man looked at the commander.
“You trained him well.”
The commander didn't answer.
Because he knew something Marcus didn't.
The old man wasn't a visitor.
He wasn't a maintenance worker.
And he certainly wasn't lost.
His name was General Thomas Reed.
Retired.
Decorated.
And once considered one of the most respected commanders in the country's military history.
Marcus's rifle nearly slipped from his hands.
The courtyard erupted in whispers.
General Reed looked at him.
“You wanted me on my knees.”
Marcus swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then perhaps you should learn something.”
The general stepped closer.
“A weapon does not make you powerful.”
Marcus stared at him.
“Then what does?”
“Knowing when not to use it.”
The commander dismissed the cadets.
Marcus remained standing alone.
General Reed walked away.
Marcus thought the humiliation was over.
It wasn't.
That afternoon, the academy commander summoned him.
Marcus entered the office.
His father was already there.
Colonel Andrew Hale.
Marcus expected anger.
Instead, his father looked terrified.
Marcus had never seen that expression on him before.
“Dad?”
Andrew stood.
“Do you know who General Reed is?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what he did twenty-eight years ago?”
Marcus shook his head.
Andrew closed the office door.
“Your grandfather served under him.”
Marcus frowned.
“I know.”
“No.”
His father stared at him.
“You don't know.”
Andrew walked toward the window.
“Your grandfather died because of a training operation that went wrong.”