Chapter 6: The Medical Board
Room 4B of the Bethesda Naval Medical Center was sterile, brightly lit, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and floor wax. Elara sat at attention in a hard-backed chair, facing a long mahogany table where three senior medical officers reviewed her physical therapy logs and psychological evaluations.
Captain Aris, the head of the naval medical board, adjusted his reading glasses and looked up from the thick manila folder.
"Commander Vance," Aris began, his tone professional but warm. "Your physical recovery is nothing short of remarkable. The skin grafts have taken beautifully, and your range of motion in both shoulders has exceeded our initial projections."
"I’ve been religious about the physical therapy, sir," Elara replied, keeping her hands neatly folded in her lap.
"Clearly," Aris noted, flipping a page. "However, the sheer volume of scar tissue across your upper back and deltoids means you will likely experience chronic discomfort, especially under the weight of heavy gear. The board is prepared to clear you for active duty, but we are strongly recommending a shore-based assignment. The Pentagon has an opening in Strategic Planning that has your name on it."
Elara felt her heart drop, but she kept her expression neutral. A desk job in the Pentagon was a career graveyard for a surface warfare officer who thrived on the open ocean. It was a safe, quiet place to tuck away a wounded hero.
"With respect, Captain," Elara said, her voice steady and commanding, "I am a sailor. My place is on the deckplates, not behind a desk in Arlington."
A female officer to Aris’s right leaned forward. "Commander, no one is questioning your capability or your bravery. But sea duty is grueling. A flare-up of pain during a critical evolution—"
"I have managed the pain, ma'am," Elara interrupted gently. "And I know my limits. But more importantly, I know my crew. The Aegis is slated to finish retrofitting in three months. I intend to be on the bridge when she deploys."
Captain Aris studied her for a long moment. He saw the fire in her eyes, the same unyielding resolve that had kept her alive in the burning bowels of a warship. He slowly closed the manila folder.
"There will be a mandatory functional fitness test in four weeks," Aris said, leaning back in his chair. "If you can pass it—and I mean pass it to the standard of a front-line combat officer, with no accommodations—I will personally sign the waiver to return you to sea command."
May you like
Elara stood up, smoothing the front of her uniform. The challenge was steep, but for the first time in six months, her future was entirely in her own hands.
"Thank you, Captain," she said, rendering a crisp salute. "I'll see you in four weeks."
