“Really, improvements to Clark’s training program,” the Captain says, narrowing his eyes at Jackson. “And what qualifies you to decide how Cadet Clark’s training should progress?”
I scowl a little, hating that they’re talking about me like I’m not here and wishing they’d both just call me Ariel. It’s not like we’re keeping it a secret anymore.
“I’ve come along to all of Clark’s practice sessions since the first one,” Jackson says, standing straight, I think not liking the fact that he has to justify his insight. “I know the way that she shoots better than anyone else.”
“You are not the subject matter expert, McClintock,” the Captain snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am.”
“I’m aware, sir,” Jackson says, holding his gaze. “But I have ideas for how Clark could use these skills in battle that move beyond sitting in a blind, waiting to be taken out by another sniper.”
“And why would we need to know those?” the Captain enquires, his voice low, letting Jackson know he’s on dangerous ground.
“Because,” Jackson says, perfectly even. “I don’t intend to let Clark go into battle without me at her side at every moment. So you’re going to need to decide whose skills to emphasize on the field – either sending me up in a blind with her or teaching her to sharp shoot on the move.”
The Captain balks a bit at Jackson’s gall. “That’s not your call to make, Cadet,” he growls.
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