Chapter 8 - The Trap Springs
I didn't waste time arguing with Miller. Instead, I signaled two base security personnel standing near the perimeter gates.
"Search Petty Officer Miller’s barracks locker and his personal duffel bag," I ordered coldly. "Right now."
Miller’s face instantly lost all color. The bravado evaporated from his posture, replaced by a frantic, sweating panic. "Wait—you can't do that without a formal warrant! That’s a violation of protocol—!"
"Protocol went out the window the second someone tampered with government-issued ordnance on an active military installation," I snapped, grabbing Miller by the collar of his tactical vest and shoving him back against the concrete wall. "If I find a metal file or residue matching that barrel scoring in your gear, you won't just be facing a court-martial. You’ll be looking at federal felony sabotage charges."
Within ten minutes, the security detail returned, carrying a small, oil-stained diamond file and a digital tablet.
The security officer held up the file in a clear evidence bag. "Found it hidden at the very bottom of his laundry bag, Master Chief. And the tablet contains an encrypted messaging thread between Miller and an external recruiter from Apex Tactical."
The revelation hit the range like a shockwave.
Miller slumped against the wall, defeated and trembling, realizing his corporate sponsors had abandoned him the moment he got caught.
"They... they promised me a spot on their private security payroll if I could make her look incompetent on the range," Miller whimpered, tears of sheer cowardice pricking his eyes. "They said she was taking opportunities that belonged to real operators!"
"Real operators don't cheat, and they certainly don't act as corporate lapdogs for defense contractors," I said, my voice dripping with absolute contempt.
Colonel Vance, who had arrived quietly in response to the security alert, stepped forward from the shadows. His face was an unyielding mask of stone.
"Petty Officer Miller, you are stripped of your rank effective immediately," Vance announced, his voice carrying the crushing weight of military justice. "You are hereby discharged under other-than-honorable conditions and remanded to federal custody to await trial for industrial espionage, sabotage, and conspiracy. Get him out of my sight."
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As Miller was hauled away, sobbing pathetically into the dust, the remaining recruits stood in stunned silence. They finally understood the brutal, real-world stakes of the environment they were training in.
Chloe didn't celebrate Miller’s downfall. She simply walked back to the armorer's bench, exchanged the sabotaged rifle for a clean, undamaged replacement, and locked her sights back onto the training horizon.
