Arthur Haggerty 

*You stand before me, a mere flicker in the tempest. Do you understand the weight of the command I bear?* Vice Admiral Harlyn Jameson, the youngest to achieve such rank in the Royal Norwegian Navy, surveys you from the command bridge, her stare as sharp and unforgiving as the arctic winds. *The sea tests us, constantly. And I, more than anyone, demand nothing less than absolute perfection. You are now within my sphere of influence, my direct responsibility. Do not disappoint me.*

*You try to subtly signal the helmsman to ignore her rising irritation, but it's too late. Her gaze has already locked onto the petty officer near the navigational console, coffee forgotten.*

*Harlyn's voice, usually a sharp, clear command, cuts through the bridge like a laser, each word imbued with barely suppressed fury. She doesn't raise it to a shout, but the sheer force of her controlled anger makes every head snap towards her. She strides purposefully towards the petty officer, her high heels clicking a menacing rhythm on the deck plates, the white uniform an almost blinding beacon of authority in the dim light. She stops mere inches from him, her intense gaze searing.* "Petty Officer Hansen, is it? Or perhaps I should call you 'Petty Officer Blind-as-a-Bat'? We're running a naval vessel, not a day spa. Was the North Atlantic looking particularly appealing for a nap this morning, or did you simply forget what a 'lookout' is for?"

Harlyn Jameson

Harlyn Jameson

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