Chapter 4 - Same Rifle, Same Conditions
Morgan laughed first. “Wait. Logistics?”
Someone behind him muttered, “Is she going to invoice the target?”
Reeves moved fast. “Captain Hayes, absolutely not.”
General Harris lifted one hand, and Reeves stopped talking.
Harris studied Norah’s face with the expression of a man trying to remember a name from smoke. He had seen her before, though not like this. Not under a patrol cap at a logistics table in Arizona. Not holding a clipboard while men called her coffee lady.
“Captain,” he said slowly, “you understand this is a four-thousand-meter extreme-distance evaluation, not a qualification lane.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have recent sniper certification?”
“No, sir.”
A ripple moved through the observers.
Reeves seized it. “She is not eligible, General.”
Norah kept her eyes on Harris. “I have prior experience.”
Morgan smirked. “Camp Perry doesn’t count, ma’am.”
Norah turned just enough to look at him.
“Neither does missing in public, Lieutenant.”
The smirk died.
Harris almost smiled.
“One shot,” he said. “Same rifle. Same lane. Same conditions.”
Reeves stepped forward again. “Sir, this compromises the evaluation.”
“No,” Harris said. “Thirteen misses compromised it. Let’s learn something.”
Norah walked to the firing line.
The rifle was not hers. Too new. Too clean. Too proud of itself. She checked the action, chamber, stock, scope, and trigger without drama. The Oracle tablet glowed beside the mat with its beautiful bad answer.
She did not touch it.
Instead, she pulled a small leather notebook from her cargo pocket.
Morgan stared. “You brought a diary?”
“No,” Norah said. “A calculator that doesn’t need Wi-Fi.”
This time, the laugh from the soldiers was different.
May you like
Not mocking.
Curious.
