“Sir.”
Mercer stopped beside Evelyn. “Mrs. Carter, I apologize. We were told your demonstration would begin at eleven.”
Evelyn checked her watch.
“It did. Just not the way you planned.”
The gray-haired civilian smiled.
Mason looked between them. “Commander, I was not informed she was part of the program.”
Mercer glanced at the wooden case. “You were sent the guest list yesterday.”
Mason said nothing.
The civilian extended his hand to Evelyn. “Still showing off?”
She took it. “You used to complain when I missed.”
“You never missed when it mattered.”
The trainees were staring openly now.
Mercer turned toward them.
“For those of you who do not recognize her, this is Evelyn Carter. She spent twenty-eight years working as a civilian ballistics consultant and competitive long-range shooter. Before modern digital wind systems were installed, she helped develop part of the manual method still taught in your advanced course.”
One trainee looked down at the data card attached to his belt as if it had suddenly become a historical object.
Mason stared at Evelyn.
“You were a consultant?”
“Among other things.”
The gray-haired civilian laughed. “That is Evelyn’s way of leaving out three national championships and two decades of making men half her age angry.”
Evelyn gave him a look.
“They were angry before I arrived.”
The trainees laughed this time, and Mason could not stop them.
Mercer’s expression remained serious.
“Captain Blake, why was the target system running with artificial wind above the demonstration setting?”
Mason straightened. “I wanted to verify capability under realistic conditions.”
“Whose capability?”
“Hers.”
“Without telling her?”
Mason looked at Evelyn. “She accepted the conditions.”
Evelyn closed the wooden case.
