Chapter 4 - SILENCE ON THE LINE
The sudden silence under the metal roof of the firing range was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
The four junior staff officers who had been laughing moments ago stood frozen, their eyes darting between Admiral Kane's ghost-white face and the quiet woman stepping onto the rubber shooting mat. The desert wind rattled a loose piece of sheet metal on the roof, but no one moved.
Brooks looked at his commander, his confidence completely shattered by the Admiral's reaction.
"Sir...?" Brooks whispered, taking a timid step toward Kane. "Admiral, do you want me to clear her off the line?"
Kane didn't answer. He didn't even acknowledge that Brooks was standing next to him. His eyes remained fixed on Claire's back with a terrifying, unblinking intensity.
Claire lowered her body onto the black rubber shooting mat with mechanical precision. She dropped to her knees first, placed her left hand forward, and extended her legs straight back, settling into a textbook prone position. She adjusted her feet, pressing her boots flat against the concrete to anchor her body against the recoil of the 7.62mm round.
Range Master Ellis slowly stepped out from the shade of the control room. His heavy boots dragged across the gravel as he approached Admiral Kane.
Ellis stopped two feet behind the Admiral, his voice dropping into a raspy, barely audible whisper that didn't carry beyond the two of them.
"Sir..." Ellis breathed, his voice trembling slightly.
Kane didn't turn his head. "Quiet, Ellis."
Ellis leaned in closer, his leathered face tight with anxiety. "You know what that mark means, Admiral. I haven't seen that mark since eighty-nine in the Delta corridor. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't even exist."
Kane said nothing. His mouth was set in a hard, pale line, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths beneath his ribbon rack.
On the mat, Claire opened the box of match ammunition. She loaded five heavy 7.62mm rounds into the steel magazine, the brass clicking crisply into the feed lips. She inserted the magazine into the magazine well of the M110, pushing it up until the latch locked with a sharp, heavy CLACK.
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She reached her right hand over, seized the charging handle, pulled it fully to the rear, and released it.
The bolt slammed forward, stripping the top round from the magazine and locking it into the rifle's chamber with a cold, lethal sound that resonated down the quiet firing line.
