Emerald Flight: Homecoming: Inquiry

Devereux took her place beside the chair as the members of the committee entered the room. Of the five officers, she only immediately recognized two of them on sight: Colonel Martinez and Rear Admiral Bastion. Of the three officers remaining, one was a woman with close-dropped black hair. She regarded Devereux with only a glance before moving to her seat.

The next officer was a dark-skinned Admiral with silver hair and the wrinkles of a man who found much to be amused by in life. Under other circumstances, Devereux might even have considered him “grandfatherly”. Once he took his position, she immediately associated the brass-colored nameplate with his identity: duMondt. She had heard stories about him: incredibly tough, but fair—and reportedly the veteran of several successful skirmishes during the original Argolian assault.

The last man who entered wore the rank insignia of a Lt. Colonel. His skin, while deeply tanned, was not as dark as that of duMondt. Devereux tried to judge his ancestry. From somewhere in the one of the Arab republics, she guessed, or perhaps northern India. He studied her with hood eyes as he entered, never quite taking his eyes from her even as he took his position on the rostrum.

Devereux found his gaze unnerving. She had not, that she could recall, ever encountered him before—at least not in the line of duty. Vague images from a diplomatic function arose from her memories. There had been a series of barely veiled propositions from a ranking officer who she had casually dismissed as simply having had a little too much to drink. She thought she had been both evasive and cordial in rebuffing his advances. At least she remembered it that way. It had been several years ago, long before she had been placed in command. Had his skin been that shade? She could not remember.