"Stand at attention when I'm talking," Captain Lang snapped, leaning forward with hands flat on the desk. Alex straightened up, her red beret tucked under one arm. "I've given you people slack, cause you're our prize pigs. Now all hell's broken loose."

"Which hell is that, sir?"

"Don't test me, Marlboro," Capt. Lang barked. "I got a call from my boss. He said people want to talk to you real bad -- about those combat feeds, the ones shot in Caracas. You've seen the video?"

"Who hasn't?" She cocked one eye at her agitated CO.

"If you got something to do with it, now's the time to come clean."

She curled one corner of her mouth. "I'm many things, Cap'n, but I'm not insane."

"That's no saying much, Marlboro."

"No way in hell, sir!"

"That's what I told the Colonel -- Nah, none of my people could have done it," Lang scratched his head leaning back. "Tell me you didn't Snowden us?"

"Got no reason to," Alex said, indignant at the suggestion.

"Tell me it wasn't over the girl you tried to save, was it?" He eyed her with spite. "You violated your orders. You screwed up ROE, and turned unit cohesion inside out . . . But one cluster fuck at a time." He cursed under breath.

"I didn't betray nobody." She stood firm. "Besides, when did we ever have access to the feeds? They debriefed and stripped us on board Khe Sanh, then shipped us off stateside in two shakes." She snapped her fingers.

"Greed finds a way."

"Hold it, now you insult me . . . sir."

He sighed. "I believe you, Marlboro, but it's not me you gotta convince . . . They're waiting outside."

"Who?"

"Fedniks wanting to talk. You first, then Mars and Corona."

"Warchild?"

"He's your Number Two, and you two had drama on the video. Real cute too. Just you know, Warchild followed orders."

"I followed my conscience. She didn't have to die. Just a dirt girl nobody woulda believed anyhow."

"Look, I sympathize, but you're team leader and you lost control of the situation, chief. Oh, and I'm supposed to ask if you want a JAG present."

"Do I need one?"

"They could Article 15 your ass right there and hold you in the stockade without charge. If you're okay with that --"

"I got nothing to hide."

"MPs are outside the door. They'll escort you." The captain dismissed her. "Cooperate. Save yourself the trouble."

"Nothing I'd like more, Cap'n."

Lang rose from his seat, surprising her. "I'm sitting in. As your superior, I can't let the Fedniks poke and prod my guys without my say-so."

She secured her beret on her head and opened the door.

Alex kept her gaze steady ahead, flanked by two MPs comparable to her solid build and height. Lang brought up the rear.

The four arrived at a conference room down the hall from Lang's office and knocked. Lang and Alex walked in, while the MPs stayed outside.

A rectangular table dominated the length of the chamber with one wall made of mirrored glass.

Two suits, one older than the other, they struck her as teacher and student.

"I'm here as an observer," Lang said, sitting a distance away. "To make sure we have fair play."

"I'm Agent Falke, Special Investigator with Justice," the older man addressed Alex. "My colleague, Special Agent Corning with the Bureau. Please have a seat."

Corning just nodded as Alex pulled out the chair facing Falke. She slumped into the seat with knees open, and arms crossed. The beret stayed on.

"Drink? Coffee?" Falke asked.

"Nope, let's get this done," Alex said.

"Then why don't we start."

Agent Corning produced from his gear bag a saucer-like device. It had omni-directional apertures around its circumference made up of lenses and sensors. Corning's fingers danced on a hand terminal and the machine came alive. It whirred, floated up to Alex's eye level, and locked on.

"Don't worry, miss," Agent Corning said. "Supposed to be unobtrusive -- you won't know it's even there."

"Hard to miss it in my face." Alex jinked her head side to side as the disk followed the jerking movement, always maintaining a four-foot distance.

"Yeah well, the gadget measures every stress change -- metabolic, cardiac, perspiration, hormonal, eye flutters, capillaries constrictions, even the way you sit. It knows when you're lying before you do. FYI, it's infallible, so don't try to be smarter."

"She doesn't have to agree to its presence," Lang said.

"She could refuse," Falke said. "But then we'd have to take her into custody. It's like that old Breathalyzer test: if you don't blow, there are consequences."

"You can't arrest her," Lang bluffed. "You have no jurisdiction in military matters. It's our courtesy you're even here."

"And I appreciate that," he said with smugness then added, "Unless it falls under National Security -- then I can do whatever I like."

"That's your catch-all, ain't it." Lang sneered. "Shoot a nun and call it national security, so, it's okay."

Falke shrugged, returning to Alex. "So, what's it gonna be, Marlboro? You gonna play ball?"

"Pitch away. You have my permission," she replied with bravado.

"Good," Falke began by reading from his digital pad. The floating camera drone zoomed in to record. "Is your name Alexis Marlboro?"

"It is."

"Is Marlboro a loyalty brand surname? When did you change it?"

"Before I was born. Mom said we got paid as a billboard family."

Falke scribbled something down. And continued, "Were you born in Baltimore to Will and Vanessa Marlboro?"

"Yeah -- sure." Alex glanced at Capt. Lang, giving him the what the hell's all this?

"It's just to set up a baseline," Corning answered, seeing their concerns.

"Were you part of a street gang, the BGF Rifts?"

"My juvenile records are sealed." Alex gave him a hard stare. "You're intruding."

"It's public information."

"Then why ask me something you already know?"

"Did you face disciplinary actions at the Baltimore Juvenile Court where you were given a choice of colors -- orange or green?"

"Obviously I'm here, ain't I?" she said glancing at Lang.

"Just answer the question."

"Sure, I went army. So what?"

"Have you committed a crime for which you haven't been caught?"

"No."

"Do you gamble?"

"No."

"Do you have outstanding debts?"

"No."

"Have you ever cheated on a test?"

"These questions are leading," Lang said.

"Answer the question."

"Many, dammit," Alex spat her answer.

Then came a series of fast shotgun questions that required little thought but imbued with emotional traps, designed to unbalance the interviewee:

"Which fief are you loyal to?"

"What, I dunno."

"Do you think the PIP in the White House is overdue for a change?"

"I'm an Unaffiliated like everyone else. I'm not political. But why not?"

"Your grandfather was a veteran. Did he influence you to join the army?"

"Sure, whatever."

"You went infantry, then airborne, Ranger, anything else we should know? What was your role in Caracas?"

"Warrant Officer Marlboro's last assignment is classified," Lang pointed out.

"I will rephrase -- why the Special Forces?"

"If you gonna do something, be the best at it," Alex said without hesitation. "I want to fight alongside the best."

"Think this one through -- where is your loyalty, country or paramountcy?"

"Yeah, sure." She shrugged. "Next."

Falke shook his head.

"No high school diplomas. But you scored in the top 5 percentile in aptitude and comprehension for the service entrance exam. You got brains. Why did you quit school?"

"Brother died."

"Go on."

"Shot. His passing put me in the spinner."

"That's when you became a handful, yes? No teenage pregnancy or something normal like that. You ran a gang and conducted turf wars."

"You're trying to get a rise out of me? I was young . . . And stupid."

"How about now, wish you hadn't leaked that video?"

Alex shut up, stunned at the questioning, realizing her answers were coffin nails, each one being used to bury her. Yet silence made her subversive and conspiratorial.

"Why do you keep looking at the camera drone?" Falke said, an ugly smirk on his face.

"Because it's looking at me."

"You nervous, Marlboro?"

"Screw you," Alex snarled. A plump vein swelled on her neck and forehead.

"This is way out of line," Capt. Lang protested to Falke. "My people have rights."

Falke exhaled. "We're doing a canvass of everyone who came in contact with that feed, from top to bottom. You may not agree with the method, but this investigation is a high priority. Now let's try again . . . Did you leak the video?"

"Hell, no!"

"How do you feel your own feed caused all this mess? Regret any?"

"I didn't release nothing."

"But you ignored Rules of Engagement and orders handed down by your superiors. You must have had second thoughts about our involvement in Caracas."

"I see where this is going."

"Is that why you sold us out?"

"You're trying to entrap me."

"I'm trying to find the truth."

"Truth is what you make it, right?"

"Did you have something to prove, Marlboro? Why save some girl you never laid eyes on before?"

"Right thing to do."

"Bad memories made you do it?" Falke prodded, even more, a slight smile curled from his mouth. "Mommy dearest locked you in the closet or something? Is that it?"

Alex quieted, her muscles wound tight. The final comment triggered an explosive reflex. Alex leaped across the table, grabbed the Bureau investigator by his collar, and shook him like a doll in a mastiff's jaw.

The junior Fednik standing against the wall rushed forward but Lang blocked him with one hand.

"Marlboro, release him now!" Lang shouted.

Alex shoved Falke away with disgust.

"We're done here," Lang said to the Fedniks. "Next time you people talk to one of mine, JAG will be present."

"Hey, we're not through with her," Falke protested, straightening his tie. "You're done, Marlboro. We know it's you."

Lang and Alex left the interrogation room. Outside, he spun on her. "Are you an idiot, Marlboro? You grabbed Falke? He's with Justice. You don't touch them crusaders."

"He's lucky you pulled me off."

"That was stupid," Lang chastised her, poking a finger on her chest. "You know better. I hope the coming days won't be too hard for you."

"Why?"

"I'd suggest you lawyer up."

She squinted at him. "Lawyering up sends the wrong message. I got nothing to hide."

"If they turn up the heat, the army would have to step aside. You're gonna get hurt."

"Thanks, Cap'n, I'll take it under advisement."

"Now, I gotta go give the same spiel to Mars and Corona. The three of you are infamous." Lang exhaled. "A lot of bigwigs will want to know what happened over there. Since they can't know -- they will burrow into you, make your life miserable. You understand?"

"We did our job. How about some advocacy from the army, Captain Lang? We could use the help."

"I'm trying."

Alex didn't leave to go home. She waited on the hallway bench for Lang to give his preamble to T-Bone in his office.

Twenty minutes later, when the door opened, she said, "I'll take him, Cap'n, T-Bone's my charge."

"Why are you still here?"

"I need to coach him on what's waiting in there."

"Leave Falke be," Lang warned.

"I won't touch the asshole."

"All right, T-Bone's yours. You teach him. Go on." The captain waved them along. Lang may be a prickly hard-ass, but he was fair. And he was a soldier, a sure quality she could count on. The Fedniks were harder to finger, owning their allegiances to many patrons.

She grabbed Corona's arm and steered him toward the Interview Room fifty yards away. Plenty of time to squeeze in a few pointers.

"So, what did you do?" T-Bone asked with a curious smile, walking by her side.

"I overreacted."

"You, really?" He glanced back. The MPs weren't far behind. "Who am I meeting with?"

"All kinds of shit-heads. So, behave."

"What're they like?"

"They're gonna try to light a fire under your butt while an Inquisitor drone measures your stress level. They're gonna dig deep and get in your personal shit. You got to ignore them." She kept her voice above a whisper. "The more you rattle and jerk, the more they say aha!"

"What the fuck?"

"They're looking to hang us, Tee. So, stay chill, you hear? Don't do what I did. And don't you volunteer more than asked. Understand?"

"What'd they think we did, sold the video to TMZ?"

"They'd pin JFK's death on you if you let them."