Chapter 3 - The Federal Seal
The crest stamped in shimmering gold leaf on the heavy cream cardstock wasn't a standard corporate badge. It was the presidential seal of the federal oversight committee on commercial transit and civil rights violations.
Beneath it, in crisp black ink, read the name and title: Simone Sterling, Senior Federal Inspector-General, Civil Aviation Ethics & Compliance Directorate.
"My God," Captain Vance whispered, his knees buckling slightly as thirty years of pristine flying record flashed before his eyes. He realized instantly what was happening. This wasn't a routine flight. This was an unannounced, undercover compliance audit. And Brenda Miller—his most senior, chronically entitled flight attendant—had just assaulted a federal inspector on a live cabin.
Brenda stared at the captain, completely oblivious to the career execution taking place in front of her. "Captain, what are you doing? Arrest her! Look at her—she's stalling!"
"Shut up, Brenda," Captain Vance hissed, his voice dropping into a terrifying, trembling snarl.
He didn't just step back; he straightened his posture, brought his heels together, and executed a sharp, military-style salute that was so crisp it echoed off the overhead bins.
"Good morning, Inspector Sterling," the captain said, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed panic.
Behind him, the two aviation security officers—recognizing the seal and the uniform protocol—instantly snapped to attention, their hands rising to salute as well.
Across the first-class cabin, the silence became absolute. The businessman lowered his phone, his jaw dropping. The woman across the aisle stared in stunned disbelief.
Simone didn't return the salute immediately. She let the heavy, suffocating silence stretch out for three agonizing seconds, watching Brenda's face turn from smug triumph into stark, unadulterated terror as the flight attendant finally understood the gravity of what she had done.
"At ease, Captain," Simone said softly. She closed the leather folder with a quiet thud. "I was told by your regional director that domestic crews on this route were operating with the highest standards of professional courtesy and non-discriminatory compliance."
She turned her amber eyes toward Brenda, who was now backing away toward the galley curtain like a cornered animal.
"It appears," Simone continued, her voice cold as winter ice, "your training manual needs an immediate, systemic revision."
"Inspector," Captain Vance stammered, stepping closer, his face drenched in nervous sweat. "I had no idea—she acted entirely on her own accord—we can have her removed from the flight manifest immediately, her credentials stripped—"
"Oh, she's leaving the flight, Captain," Simone interrupted, standing up slowly and buttoning her blazer. "Along with every single piece of digital telemetry, passenger log, and audio recording from this gate since 5:00 AM."
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Before Captain Vance could plead his case further, Simone’s phone buzzed on the seat. She glanced down at the screen, where a secure text notification flashed from her federal task force lead in Washington: Perimeter secured. All terminal records for Gate 4B are downloaded. Ready when you are, Inspector.
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