“Coates, left side. More power,” Fly said from the back, his voice calm and direct. “The current is pulling us. Chen, watch your timing. You’re rushing.”
Coates, flustered, looked back at Fly. Fly just nodded once, a silent signal of trust. Coates took a breath and followed Fly’s instructions, his voice gaining confidence as he relayed the commands. The boat started to move with the same fluid efficiency it had under Fly. They fought through a brutal set, Fly’s quiet corrections keeping them upright and on course, and they won again, this time by a full boat length. They stumbled onto the beach, utterly spent, their bodies numb and shaking uncontrollably.
Surf was waiting, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you have any idea why I pulled you?” he asked Fly.
Fly stood there with his team, sand and seaweed clinging to his gear. “Apparently, I was sloppy. Maybe my bootlaces weren’t in a perfect bow.”
Easy chuckled. “This guy...”
“You going to give me lip, sir, or your ears?” Surf shot back. “Do you know?”
“No, but I’m sure this is teaching moment. I’m paying attention,” Fly said evenly.
Concrete stepped forward, his weathered face unreadable. “I’ll give you the snark because you earned it.” He looked past Fly, his eyes moving over each member of the boat crew. "That was a test," he said, his voice a low gravel that cut through the wind. "Not the race. The response." He pointed a thumb at Fly. "We wanted to know what would happen when we took away his title. Question one was answered immediately. Any hesitation would have been equal to failure." His eyes were like flint. “Real leadership isn’t proven when you’re in charge. It’s proven when you’re not.”
Fly stood perfectly still, letting the cold wind pull the heat from his skin. He felt the crew's eyes on him, their confusion a palpable thing. Of course, he obeyed. What other option was there? To argue? To fail? That wasn't a choice. It was a non-starter.
Surf grinned, crossing his arms. "Question two. We were watching for sabotage. Would you pout? Would you poison the crew against Coates? 'This is bullshit, guys. Don't listen to him.' We've seen it a hundred times. Ego destroys more candidates than the cold ever will."
Fly almost laughed at the thought. Poison the crew? His crew? The men who trusted him to keep them upright and moving forward? He’d rather drown. To think they were that fragile, that easily turned. It was an insult to their character.
"No, Instructor Brah!" Miller shouted, his voice raspy.
"Never, sir!" Chen added.
“He told us to focus,” Reyes said.
Surf nodded slowly, his eyes back on Fly. "You didn't sabotage. You supported. You made your skipper look good. You put the team first."
Easy rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. "Which brings us to question three," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Does he still lead without the title? We saw it. Quiet corrections. Confidence in your crew. You didn't need the authority to be in charge. That's not something we can teach. That's instinct."
Fly absorbed that. Instinct. Maybe. It felt more like necessity. The boat was drifting. Coates was hesitating. Someone had to read the water and make the call. It wasn't about wanting to lead. It was about not wanting to fail. It was as simple and as complicated as that. He met Easy's gaze, waiting for the catch. There was always a catch.
"It's also dangerous," Easy continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "A good officer follows orders. A great one knows when to break them to save the mission. We need to know which one you're going to be."
There it was. The line. The one he'd walked before, the one that had cost him everything. He held Easy's stare, his expression giving nothing away. He knew exactly which one he was. He was the one who would break the order every single time if it meant his men came home.
"That brings us to the final piece," Shamrock said, stepping forward to stand beside Easy. "Question four. Does the crew collapse or adapt? They adapted. They trusted Coates because you trusted Coates. They followed his lead because you followed his lead. They became a stronger team because you allowed them to be."
“With all due respect, Instructor Kavanaugh. We’d follow him in into hell or, in this case, Davy Jones’s Locker,” Reyes said.
“Ah, genius, we’d be dead if we followed him there,” Chen said with a smirk. There was laughter all around.
Fly felt a surge of something warm and fierce in his chest as he huffed a laugh. He looked back at his crew, at Vance and Miller, Chen and O’Malley and Reyes. He saw their trust, their resilience. He hadn't allowed them to be anything. They just were. That was all them.
"You didn't just win two races, Gallagher," Shamrock finished. "You passed a test you didn't even know you were taking. You proved you're not just a leader. You're a builder."
Fly looked at his crew, then at the instructors. He just nodded, a small, sharp gesture of acknowledgment. "Hoo-yah," he said, his voice steady and clear.
The crew echoed him, their voices a unified roar that cut through the sound of the surf. "Hoo-yah!"
“Permission to add Coates to my boat crew,” Fly said.
Fly felt the weight of their collective voice settle around him. This wasn't about him. It was about them. It was always about them.
Concrete tilted his head and stared at Fly. Then he nodded once. “Permission granted. You guys are done for the day. Go get warm and dry, extra chow. No inspection tomorrow.”
“So, it does pay to be a winner,” Fly murmured. Turning toward Coates who was offering his hand.
