Yet in the next twenty minutes, everything they thought they knew about her would be shattered.
Walsh watched as the woman's eyes swept the corridor in a pattern he recognized immediately: left corner, high right corner, low center mass, exits, and potential threats. She repeated the scan in three-second intervals—perfect tactical observation drilled so deeply into an operator that it became as automatic as breathing. She was not looking for dirt on the floor. She was maintaining awareness of every person, every movement, and every possible danger in the environment.
Commander Hayes noticed Walsh's attention and misinterpreted it entirely. "Sergeant, are you defending the help now?" Her voice carried the particular cruelty of someone who had fought hard for her position and resented anyone she perceived as weak. "Maybe she needs a strong man to speak for her."
The woman's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Still, she said nothing.
Lieutenant Park pushed away from the wall where he had been lounging. "Actually, I'm curious now." He gestured toward the weapons rack visible through the nearby armory window. "Hey, maintenance lady. Since you're cleaning our facilities, maybe you can tell us what those are called."
He pointed at three rifles mounted in sequence. The woman looked up slowly. Her dark brown eyes, unremarkable at first glance, focused on the weapons with an intensity that made Walsh's breath catch.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet but clear. "M4 carbine with an ACOG optic. M16A4 with standard iron sights. HK416 with an EOTech holographic sight."
Park's smirk faltered. Those were not civilian descriptions. They were proper military designations.