MY SISTER WANTED TO HUMILIATE ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ON THE PIER, BUT THE MOMENT SHE LEARNED WHY EVERYONE WAS LISTENING TO ME, SHE REALIZED SHE HAD MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE.

Two days later, the quiet comfort of Ohio melted away as my flight touched down once again on the sun-drenched tarmac of Jacksonville.

Stepping off the aircraft, the familiar, salty tang of the Atlantic breeze filled my lungs. It felt like returning to my true element.

I drove straight back to Naval Station Mayport, walking through the administrative compound just as the morning muster was wrapping up. The crisp salute of the quarterdeck watchstander was sharp and precise.

“Welcome back, Commander,” the young petty officer greeted me crisply.

“Thank you, Petty Officer. Any unread dispatches from district command?”

“None, ma’am, but Master Chief Daugherty left word that the quarterly pier infrastructure diagnostics are ready for your final sign-off.”

“Understood.”

I walked into my office, stepping past the stainless-steel desk and pausing by the reinforced glass window overlooking Pier Four. Down below, grey hulls rose and fell with the rhythmic tide, sailors moved with disciplined efficiency, and the flag of the United States snapped proudly against the morning wind.

My desk phone blinked. I pressed the receiver.

“Commander Vance,” I said.

“Commander,” Master Chief Daugherty’s gravelly voice came through the comms. “Good to have you back on the bridge. The engineering team is prepped for the final sector review.”