He shook his head. “Just Andrew.”
Fly nodded.
“I wanted to say something before they call you back in,” he went on. His voice was steady, unguarded. “What happened out there…that wasn’t on you alone.”
Fly’s jaw tightened. “I was the skipper.”
“Me, too,” Andrew said simply. “Enough times to know when a call is clean and when it isn’t.” He held Fly’s gaze. “You read the water right. You acted when it mattered…masterfully. That turn saved lives.”
Fly swallowed. “It wasn’t enough.”
Andrew nodded, not arguing. “It never feels like it is.”
One of the Crimson Star sailors stepped forward then, younger, sun-browned, eyes still carrying the imprint of the storm.
“Bro,” he said softly, almost reluctant. “That was some kind of sailing. If it wasn’t for the accident, you would have had us.”
The other nodded. “Yeah. One of the most challenging races I’ve ever crewed.”
Fly let out a slow breath.
Andrew spoke again, quieter now. “I’m sorry about Mei.” He didn’t soften the name. He didn’t rush past it. “She deserved better than the sea taking her.”
Fly met his eyes. “There could have been another outcome.”
Andrew’s expression didn’t change. He accepted it. “Yes,” he said. “I’m aware.”
They stood there a moment longer, four sailors bound by the same truth, each carrying a different piece of it.
Andrew studied him for a moment, then asked, “Where you headed after this, son?”
The question caught Fly off guard. For the first time since the hearing began, he felt unmoored like the horizon had shifted, and he hadn’t recalibrated yet.
“SEALs,” he said.
Andrew nodded slowly. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Fly waited.
“You’d make a fine fleet captain,” Andrew went on. “I’d like to see what you could do with an aircraft carrier.”
To Fly’s surprise, he laughed softly. “Not as easy to turn as a Twenty-Six.”
Andrew’s smile was faint, edged with something bittersweet. “No,” he said. “But a turn is a turn.”
Andrew stepped back. “Whatever they decide in there,” he said, “know this. You didn’t fail your crew.” He offered his hand.
Fly took it and they shook, then the two students. “Thank you.”
Andrew and the Crimson Star crewmates turned away, leaving Fly carrying both sides of the coin, judgment and recognition, responsibility and respect.
Both were real.
Neither made the loss smaller.
Thirty minutes passed.
When the door finally opened, Captain Hale stepped out first.
