Page 42 of Under Fire

“This next deployment—” the master chief started, but immediately stopped as Warren’s glare turned deadly.

“What about it?” Warren snapped.

“Chief, in the last five years, you’ve spent more time on deployment than on home soil—by a landslide. You’ve gone longer, further, harder than any other man in the platoon—or in the SEALs, for that matter. At what point does a man burn out? At what point do you need to stop?”

“Never. I’llneverstop. Failure is not an option.”

“I don’t want to lose you, like how we lost—” But he stopped.

Warren tensed, thankful for the sudden suspension.

Moving on, the master chief let out a fatigued sigh, flipping open a file in front of him on the desk.

Picking up a memo from the top, he then locked eyes with Warren. “I don’t want to lose you. The Navy doesn’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“Willing to sign on it?”

Warren quirked his eyebrow, realizing where they were at.

“Look… Your review is in. You’re eligible for the biggest retention bonus, given your level of service.” He tossed the paper over the desk to show Warren the cash amount. “All you have to do is re-sign.”

Warren’s eyes flashed up to his master chief, absorbing exactly how bad the Navy wanted him to keep going.

Chapter Fifteen

Alisa

Alisa sat in front of one of the most brilliant doctors in the hospital, trying to not think about the fact that it was Thursday. She still hadn’t heard from Warren—not since he’d snuck out of her place days ago. What had happened to their deal?

“Alisa, did you hear my question?” the doctor asked.

The pointed words drew Alisa back to reality. Dr. Roske leaned back in her office chair, adjusting her brown glasses on her fair nose. Loose curly blonde hairs stuck out from her temples as she observed her student.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Dr. Roske,” Alisa said.

“Are you familiar with fusion imaging? Have you studied that yet?”

“Um, yes,” Alisa started, nervously tightening her navy-blue blazer. “I’m more comfortable with magnetic, but I’m working on my knowledge of fusion as well.”

The radiologist flipped through a patient’s scans on the screen. It was yet another on-the-job residency aptitude test.

Alisa heard her cell vibrate in her bag and a panicking part of her mind debated if it was Warren. She felt her fingers twitch to get it but stopped herself.

“A lot of radiology is really witchcraft,” Dr. Roske explained, pointing at the screen. “What do you see here?”

“I’m not sure,” Alisa said, trying to concentrate. “Maybe, inflammation—”

“What?” Dr. Roske cocked her head, assessing her student. “It’s a glioma, of course.”

“Right.”

Alisa squinted as the doctor outlined the ill-defined boundaries.

“Look… This is quintessential radiology,” Dr. Roske said. “Half the time, you’ll find yourself looking at ghost apparitions, trying to write some sort of report on what it all means. Everything comes down to your professional opinion.”

“I-I completely understand,” Alisa stuttered, folding her hands professionally in her lap. “I’m eager to pursue this in my residency.”

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