“Let’s begin,” he announced.
His tone was low, but carried with it a soft air of authority. It reminded Devereux of a minister at the church in Quebec where she spent much of her childhood. There was a quiet solemnity about it that brokered respect, not fear.
Devereux paused a moment, waiting until all of the ranking officers had seated themselves before taking her own seat. The young lieutenant assigned to officially record the proceedings—actually officially monitor the recordings of the proceedings—sat down at one of the two stations positioned just in front of the podium.
“Just to be clear before we proceed,” duMondt began. “This is a board of inquiry, not a formal hearing. At this time, no charges have been filed against Captain Devereux,” he explained. He turned his head slightly to glance at the other members of the committee.
Devereux wondered if it was her imagination that his gaze seemed to linger just slightly longer at the dark-complexioned Lt. Colonel.
“The purpose of this panel is to determine whether or not formal charges should be filed.”
There were slight nods from the other four officers. duMondt seemed satisfied. He turned his eyes toward Devereux.
“For the record,” he said formally. “Please confirm your identity and rank for this panel.” He touched a control in front of him on the podium.
A holographic display appeared suspended between Devereux and the members of the panel, but positioned high enough that it did not block their view of each other. Her profile image appeared in the air. Adjacent to it slowly scrolled non-classified details from her personnel file.
“You are Devereux, Christine J., current rank of Captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this is your assigned serial number and service record?”
“Yes, sir.”
A small part of her wanted to comment that it was not her entire record, but that was really beside the point. There was more than enough to confirm her identity and such a remark would probably not endeared her to the more staid members of the inquiry panel.
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