Chapter 5 - Four Thousand Five Hundred Twelve Meters
The Fire Direction Center was too far away to strike the launcher before dawn.
Air support could not enter the canyon fast enough.
Morgan had one rifle.
One data book.
One chance.
The target sat 4,512 meters away.
At that distance, the shot belonged more to mathematics than eyesight. The bullet would cross three thermal layers, climb through unstable air, fight a changing crosswind, and fall hundreds of feet before reaching the valley floor.
No confirmed shot in her unit’s records came close.
The laser rangefinder failed twice in the cold distortion.
Morgan switched to terrain calculation.
She opened the blood-stained data book and found the pages she had copied before Sterling tore the original. Elevation. Pressure. Ridge angle. Temperature shift. Historical wind patterns.
Sergeant Eli Cross’s voice lived in her memory.
Her former spotter had died a year earlier, but his lessons remained.
The bullet does not care about your fear, Morgan. Trust the log. Trust the math.
Morgan pressed her left hand against the wound in her hip and used her right to adjust the optic. She reached the mechanical elevation limit, then held beyond it into empty sky.
The FDC operator stayed on the channel.
“Sergeant, confirm target.”
Morgan gave the coordinates.
“Confirm distance.”
“Four thousand five hundred twelve meters.”
Silence followed.
“That is outside standard engagement range.”
“I know.”
“Do you have visual?”
“I have enough.”
The launcher crew connected the final line.
Dawn was minutes away.
Morgan slowed her breathing.
In.
Hold.
Out.
May you like
The pain disappeared behind the crosshairs.
She squeezed the trigger.
