Through the solid wood, he caught the muffled sound of movement---footsteps pacing, then stopping.
A woman's voice, low and controlled: "I understand the political pressure, but rushing this could get people killed."
A pause. She was on a radio or phone.
"No, I don't care what the Council wants. Colorado isn't some settlement dispute we can solve with diplomacy and threats."
Another pause, longer this time.
Her tone shifted---harder, with an edge that sounded personal. "Marcus Chen thought the same thing fifteen years ago. We all know how that turned out."
Kai's breath caught.
"The boy just arrived. Yes, I'll handle it... No, he doesn't know about the transmission yet. I'll decide what to tell him based on---"
She stopped abruptly, and Kai heard footsteps approaching the door.
He knocked---three sharp raps, firm but not aggressive---and stepped back half a pace, composing his expression into something between professional anticipation and friendly confidence.
"Enter," came the voice from inside.
Kai opened the door and stepped in.
Commander Sarah Wolfe stood behind a functional metal desk scattered with maps and reports.
She was in her early fifties, grey threading through dark hair pulled back in a severe bun.
Her Ranger uniform was immaculate but well-worn, and there was a faded scar running from her left temple to her jawline---the kind you get from being too close to an explosion.
Her eyes were sharp, assessing, and currently locked on him with an intensity that would make most recruits squirm.
Behind her: a large map of Colorado dominated the wall, covered in pins and handwritten notes.
Red pins clustered around a location marked "Colorado Springs."
On her desk: a radio still warm from recent use, a classified folder with his name visible on the tab, and a photograph she slid into a drawer as he entered.
Kai met her gaze and offered a slight smile---warm enough to be personable, controlled enough to be professional.
"Commander Wolfe," he said, his tone carrying respect without servility. "Recruit Kai Chen, reporting as ordered."
Wolfe didn't sit. She didn't invite him to sit.
She circled around the desk slowly, and Kai realized this was deliberate---she was using the time to study him.
He held her gaze but kept his expression open, faintly curious.
"You made good time from the gates," she said finally. "Most recruits get lost finding the administrative building. Or stop to gawk at the facilities."
"I wanted to understand where I was before reporting, Commander---comes with growing up on trade routes where knowing the layout can save your life. But your summons took priority."
He paused, then added with genuine curiosity: "Though I'm reading the situation now. Should I have prioritized differently?"
A flicker of something crossed Wolfe's face---not quite approval, but close.
She leaned back against her desk, arms crossed, and the intense scrutiny softened fractionally.
"No," she said. "You prioritized correctly. And you didn't lie about stopping to observe---most recruits would've claimed they came straight here."
She tilted her head slightly. "The guard at the gate. What did you ask him?"
"What you prefer in a recruit, ma'am. Punctual or informed. He said you value results over bullshit and that you'd test me."
Kai allowed himself the smallest hint of a smile. "He also said you knew my father."
The room temperature dropped perceptibly.
Wolfe's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes sharpened---old pain, old guilt, something carefully buried rising to the surface.
She was silent for a long moment.
Finally, she moved to her desk and tapped the folder with his name on it.
"Sit, Chen."
Kai took the chair across from her desk.
Wolfe opened the folder, though he got the sense she wasn't really reading it---she already knew what was in there.
"Your recruitment application lists linguistic expertise as your primary skill set. Fluent in six languages, working knowledge of four more, rapid acquisition of new dialects."
She looked up. "That's rare. Valuable. Especially now."
"My mother ran trade caravans," Kai said, keeping his tone neutral. "Couldn't negotiate with settlements if you can't speak their language. I learned young that communication is survival."