Chapter 1 - Five Rounds“Lane Three is active,” Master Chief Ryan Cole called.
Emma Carter stepped onto the firing line.
The training rifle rested naturally in her hands, but she did nothing hurriedly. She checked that the range officer had cleared the lane, waited for the final signal, and settled into position.
Ryan watched from several feet behind her.
He had expected questions.
Most headquarters visitors asked too many.
They wanted equipment explained, procedures translated, and every abbreviation expanded as though the range existed to educate them.
Emma had asked nothing since arriving with Commander Daniel Brooks forty minutes earlier.
That bothered Ryan more than ignorance would have.
“Five rounds,” he repeated. “No excuses afterward.”
Emma looked toward the electronic scoring monitor beside Lane Three.
Five empty circles waited on the screen.
She glanced once at Commander Brooks.
Daniel gave no visible response.
Ryan noticed.
Something passed between them anyway.
He didn't like it.
Emma turned downrange.
The range went quiet.
Five controlled reports broke the silence one after another.
No flourish.
No celebration.
Emma lowered the rifle only after the range officer signaled clear.
Several trainees immediately looked toward the scoring monitor.
Ryan did too.
The display refreshed.
ROUND COUNT: 5
QUALIFYING HITS: 2
A few restrained smiles appeared.
Ryan folded his arms.
“Well.”
Emma did not react.
“Paperwork doesn't push back,” he said.
She set the rifle down safely on the designated table.
Then walked toward the spotting scope.
Ryan frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“At what?”
“The target.”
“You have a monitor.”
Emma finally looked at him.
“I know.”
Daniel uncrossed his arms.
That movement was small.
Ryan noticed it.
Emma leaned toward the scope.
Five marks were visible on the paper target.
All inside the qualifying area.
Not two.
Five.
Ryan's expression changed.
He stepped forward and looked himself.
The smiles vanished around Lane Three.
One trainee whispered:
“Monitor's wrong.”
Ryan straightened.
“Target could have old hits.”
The range safety officer answered immediately.
“Fresh target, Master Chief. I mounted it myself.”
Ryan stared at him.
Then at Emma.
She remained calm.
“Run it again.”
Emma shook her head.
Ryan's irritation returned.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Then prove it.”
“I already did.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“Two hits doesn't prove anything.”
Emma pointed toward the paper.
“Those five do.”
“That monitor has been certified.”
“By whom?”
Ryan blinked.
“Grayline Tactical Analytics.”
Emma looked at Daniel again.
This time Daniel spoke.
“Master Chief, lock Lane Three.”
Ryan stared.
“What?”
“No additional personnel use it.”
“Commander—”
“That's an order.”
The trainees exchanged looks.
Ryan stepped closer.
“Sir, what's going on?”
Daniel looked toward Emma.
For the first time since arriving, he introduced her properly.
“This is Commander Emma Carter.”
Ryan's face changed.
Emma's clothing carried no insignia.
That had been deliberate.
Daniel continued:
“She's attached to Naval Inspector General Special Review.”
The silence around Lane Three became different.
No smirks now.
Ryan looked at the rifle he had pushed toward her.
Then back at Emma.
“You're an inspector?”
“One part of my assignment.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“You could've said that.”
Emma answered calmly.
“You could've asked.”
The words landed harder than insult.
Ryan looked toward Daniel.
“You brought an IG investigator onto my range without notifying me?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Emma answered.
“Because three months ago Petty Officer Maya Torres filed a safety complaint involving this lane.”
Ryan's face became unreadable.
One of the trainees looked down.
Another shifted uncomfortably.
Emma continued.
“Her complaint said the electronic scoring system reported data inconsistent with physical targets.”
Ryan folded his arms.
“That complaint was investigated.”
“Internally.”
“And closed.”
“Yes.”
“Because Torres caused the incident herself.”
Emma watched him.
“Is that what you believe?”
“That's what the evidence showed.”
“What evidence?”
“Range logs. Camera footage. Equipment diagnostics.”
Emma turned toward the monitor.
“The same system that just told you five marks were two?”
Ryan's face hardened.
“Equipment glitches happen.”
“Yes.”
Emma agreed.
“Which is why you investigate them.”
“We did.”
“Did you inspect the raw sensor log?”
Ryan hesitated.
“The contractor did.”
“Grayline?”
“Yes.”
“Did you receive the original data?”
“A certified report.”
Emma nodded.
“Did you independently verify it?”
Ryan's eyes narrowed.
“You've been here less than an hour.”
“And I've already reproduced part of Torres's complaint.”
Ryan glanced toward Daniel.
“Sir?”
Daniel looked tired suddenly.
Not surprised.
Tired.
“Seal the lane, Ryan.”
Ryan stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I knew there was a discrepancy.”
“For how long?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Ryan took one step backward.
The betrayal in his face was unmistakable.
“You knew.”
Emma intervened.
“We are not conducting this conversation in front of trainees.”
Ryan looked around as if noticing the others again.
“Clear the range.”
The safety officer began moving personnel.
Within minutes Lane Three stood nearly empty.
Emma photographed the physical target, the monitor display, equipment serial numbers, and time.
No theatrics.
Evidence.
Ryan watched.
Then asked:
“What exactly happened to Torres?”
Emma looked at him sharply.
“You signed her disciplinary recommendation.”
“I know what the report says.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Ryan's expression tightened.
Maya Torres had been injured during a nighttime qualification exercise.
Not severely enough to end her life.
Severely enough to end her path through the training pipeline.
The official conclusion stated she ignored an electronic cease indicator, crossed an unauthorized boundary, and caused a range interruption that placed others at risk.
Maya insisted the indicator never appeared.
Grayline’s logs said it had.
Ryan believed the machine.
Emma asked:
“Did you ever ask her why she was so certain?”
“I interviewed her.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the system showed otherwise.”
Emma looked toward the faulty monitor.
Ryan followed her eyes.
For the first time that morning, he had no response.
Daniel stepped toward the range table.
“Ryan, there's more.”
Ryan turned.
“What?”
Daniel removed a sealed folder.
He placed it on the table.
“Yesterday Grayline delivered archived qualification data after receiving the IG preservation order.”
Ryan stared.
“And?”
Emma opened the folder.
“Lane Three recorded eleven rounds during Maya Torres's incident.”
Ryan frowned.
“She fired ten.”
“We know.”
“Then what's the eleventh?”
Emma slid a page toward him.
The eleventh event had been electronically inserted nineteen minutes after the range closed.
User account:
RCOLE_ADMIN
Ryan stared at his own name.
“No.”
Emma said nothing.
“I didn't enter that.”
Daniel watched him.
Ryan picked up the page.
“This is my credential.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't do this.”
Emma's voice remained even.
“Then someone wanted the system to say you did.”
Ryan looked from Emma to Daniel.
The arrogance that had filled him minutes earlier disappeared.
Not replaced by humility yet.
By fear.
“My account was used to alter Torres's record?”
Emma nodded once.
“And if I didn't do it…”
She finished for him.
“Then this investigation isn't only about a broken scoring monitor.”
Ryan looked toward the empty Lane Three.
The same lane he had defended for months.
The same system he had trusted over a young sailor’s word.
And the same electronic record now carried his own name like a fingerprint.
Emma closed the folder.
“Five rounds, Master Chief.”
Ryan looked at her.
She pointed toward the paper target.
“The target says five.”
Then toward the monitor.
“The system says two.”
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Finally, she touched the altered log bearing his account.
“So before we decide who doesn't belong here, we're going to find out who taught this range to lie.”
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