“That is impossible.”
Evelyn opened the bolt and made the rifle safe.
“No,” she said. “It is difficult. Those are not the same thing.”
The words landed on Mason with the same calm precision as the shot.
A trainee near the rear let out a breath that almost became a laugh. He stopped when Mason turned.
“Run the target again.”
The control operator looked confused. “Captain?”
“There was a timing error. Run it again.”
Evelyn stood slowly. “I asked for one shot.”
“And I am telling you the system glitched.”
The operator glanced at the screen. “Sir, the timing log is normal.”
Mason walked toward the station. “You are certain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then the wind machines were not at full output.”
The operator looked at the display again. “They were set above standard qualification level.”
That sentence did more damage than the shot.
Several trainees looked at Mason.
He had wanted them to believe Evelyn failed under ordinary pressure. Instead, the control panel had just confirmed that he had deliberately made the conditions harder than normal.
Evelyn returned the rifle to its case.
“You can turn the machines down now,” she said.
Mason stepped away from the station. “Who taught you to shoot?”
She looked at him.
“Why does it matter now?”
“Because nobody walks onto this range at your age with that rifle and makes that shot by accident.”
“I never said it was an accident.”
A voice behind the trainees answered for her.
“She taught half the people who taught us.”
The group turned.
A gray-haired civilian in a range jacket was walking down from the observation platform. Beside him was Commander Paul Mercer, the officer responsible for the training facility.
Mason’s face changed.
