“Sir.”

The marine snapped to attention and saluted. The officer returned the gesture.

“What’s on your mind, corporal?” Major Lucas Moody was standing at the lectern in the squadron briefing room working his way through equipment readiness reports. The unsheathed sword of the marine mechanized infantry’s crest filled the wall behind him.

“Sir, well– see, the guys and me, we’ve been talking, and..”

“Just say it, corporal. Second Marines are a team, commanding officer to gas can.”

The major’s encouragement didn’t seem to do much for the young marine’s uncomfortable expression.

“Well, sir, I found out the skipper’s just a little older than me, and I was wondering if that’s, you know, a normal thing in the fleet?” He scratched the side of his nearly shaved head with a confused look.

“You have plans to join the officer corps, marine?”

“No! I mean no, sir. I’m pretty happy just being one of the guys.” He chuckled nervously. “My mom would disown me if I messed up my marks in basic, sir. But I was just wondering, because–”

“I went to flight school with Jason Hunter. I was one of the men he rescued when he won the Skyshield Legion. He charged an enemy frigate squadron in a single seat Yellowjacket fighter. They went this way, he went that way. He made it. They didn’t.”

“I– I didn’t know that, sir.”

“Most people don’t. The skipper isn’t the type to brag. There’s no man alive I’d rather have on the bridge of any ship I’m taking to war than Jason Hunter. If you went missing, marine, he’d bring every man and woman in this command with him looking for you.”

For whatever it was worth, the look on Major Moody’s face seemed to provide the young man some comfort. The corporal stood at attention again and saluted. Moody returned the salute again and the marine dismissed himself.