1.8.2

Target Practice

The stocky blonde awaited, her expression severe as if she found the whole arrangement distasteful.

“If you don’t want to do this-”

Rue cut her off. “Doesn’t matter.”

Astrid herself stood, unable to process how she was supposed to feel while the soldier so obviously detested her presence.

After a beat, Rue slackened her defensive stance, leaned closer, and dropped her voice.

“Look, I’ve worked with a lot of people I thought were a waste of a space, and none of them lasted long. I don’t like that you’re here, but Captain and the others want me to train you, so I’m gonna. You don’t get any of my people killed in the process, and I won’t return the favor, got it?”

Astrid scowled, perplexed that possessiveness alone could cause such vehemence.

“Fine.”

“Then focus.” Rue brusquely pointed to the workbench, where an array of firearms lay, neatly prepped and cleaned.

“Assault Rifle.” She pointed to the largest barrel, with considerable heft. “Consistent. Predictable kick. Tenya’s favorite for the versatility of its uses at range. But you need to get creative in tight spaces.”

“Shotgun,” Rue named next. “More power, less precision. You’ll take down anything that gets close, but that can also mean friendlies so watch your sides. Better in close range.”

“Heavy gunner.” Rue indicated a large-barreled weapon that looked like an arm-held mortar. “It’s slow, but it’s a beast. We’ve already got one on the field. Me. And I don’t expect you have the muscle to hold up to it. But you should know what it looks like.”

“And this,” Rue finished at a small handheld, “is a light pistol. It’s a better starting weapon. It’s manageable in power, has mid-range capabilities, and causes effective damage near, and far, if you’re a good enough aim. Downsides include that it often takes more than one shot to put someone down, and that almost every other jackass out there also knows how to use it, so if they can get it away from you, especially in tight quarters, you’ve lost.”

“Let’s start there, then…” Astrid chose diplomatically.

Rue crossed her arms and darted her eyes to the pistol, then back to Astrid. “Well, go ahead then.”

Astrid warily slid her fingers around the metal and lifted the weapon from the bench.

Rue gave a guttural sigh and rolled her eyes. “This isn’t glass art. It’s a tool. A deadly one. When you pick it up, you gotta respect why you need it. Don’t raise it, don’t draw it, unless you’re ready to use it!”

Rue readjusted Astrid’s grip. Like Tenya, she seemed to possess no sense of personal space or propriety.

She kicked her boots between Astrid’s legs to spread them, reached for the girl’s shoulders to pull them back, then wrapped one of Astrid’s hands along the front of the grip, and the other, below and around, to support the first.

“Look. Look over there.” Rue pointed across the hold to where the bust of a ballistic dummy sat strapped to a heavy mount in the dark. Behind it, a wall of mats and neoprene protected the hull, and its inhabitants, from ricochets. “You think you could hit that from here?”

“Maybe.”

Astrid straightened her arms, to test the feel of wielding a weapon in such a way.

“Your instinct will be to shoot as soon as you get it out in front of you. And you’d be wrong. You’ll miss, or only succeed in pissing someone off.

“If you really want to be effective, you need to aim higher. For the head. Chest and torso shots slow your enemy, but if someone is looking to put the team down, you don’t give them the second chance, you got it?”

Astrid bit the inside of her cheek but nodded.

“Fresh Meat, I’m fucking serious. Do not let those assholes take out our guys.” Rue annunciated every word as if the mere thought tensed her.

On that, Astrid could relate.

“Now. Fire.”

Astrid complied. The feeling of power that shook through her hand clenched at her heart. A split in the material at the dummy’s stomach revealed a low hit.

“Higher. Adjust.”

Another blast. This time the chest.

“Good if you get the heart or lung,” Rue told her, “But it’s meaningless if you get it caught in a rib or muscle. If your target is wearing armor, all you did is give him something to patch after he’s put us all in the ground. Adjust!”

Higher still, the third pierced the matted fabric just off to the side of the target’s cranium.

“You’re going to get us killed, Fresh Meat.”

“She’s overcompensating,” Tenya called over. “The light pistol is too slight. She probably can’t feel where it’s going to go. She’s not a princess, Rue, she wants to fight. I told you, try the hand-cannon.”

Rue grumbled but delved back into the weapons cases for a different firearm. When she found what she wanted, the trooper checked the chamber, and the clip, before she slid the piece back in place and presented it to the Channeler.

It seemed similar to the first, but denser, slightly larger, and as Astrid picked it up, she found it heftier.

It still fit in one hand, and with both back in position, as Rue instructed, it felt comfortable in her grip. A pleasant strain pulled at Astrid’s muscles. Her awareness for the instrument, and its might, helped her settle into proper form.

“It has a smaller clip size and shoots slower but is more potent. It’s not meant to be fired wildly. Try again,” Rue ordered shortly.

A blast boomed in the air, and the force knocked against Astrid’s palm. She firmed up her grip in surprise.

In the dummy, a fresh wound gaped in its left pectoral.

“Not when it’s right out in front of you. Wait that extra half-second to raise your muzzle level with the head. Don’t pull the trigger,” Rue corrected. “Squeeze.”

Astrid squeezed.

And a thick shell buried itself violently into the eye socket of the gel-molded skull.

“Better,” Rue assessed bluntly.

Astrid supposed it was too much to expect actual praise.

“We don’t have hours for target practice today. Let’s make sure you don’t shoot yourself in the foot.”

Rue briskly walked Astrid through the safety features: how to holster and draw tactically and with precision, and the most common faults and accidents from soldiers treating his or her weapon with disregard.

“Tenya will clean it before we go out, but you’ll need her to show you how to care for it when we get back. It’s technically her job, but you need to know how. If we get separated, or if we’re out on op for days at a time, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

“I understand.”

Rue shook her head as she began to pack up the remaining selections, untouched and unused. “I still think this is a stupid idea.”

“Thanks, Rue,” Astrid tried, “for teaching me.”

“Don’t.” Rue forcefully closed one case after another and sternly stacked them back in place. “Someday you’re going to wish I hadn’t.”

Abruptly, deep at the back of the hold, behind the double doors fitted between twin staircases, a dense reverberation shook the air and warbled the world outside Astrid’s senses.

Astrid stumbled, away from Rue, toward Tenya, in confusion. It felt like pulse from the Guardian’s sticks, but somehow denser. Astrid tugged at her hair to keep her senses seated firmly in her own head so she could find her way forward.

The feeling shook her brain, her body, and every iota of energy contained within. The immense power that rammed through her staggered her aside to catch herself on one of the crates.

“Astrid? Astrid, are you okay?!” Tenya ran to her, but the woman’s voice grew muted behind the wall of mind-numbing noise.

The overpowering sensation hammered Astrid for a full minute. She couldn’t resist, nor withstand it. Let alone hear what her companion yelled to her through the haze.

Finally, the force receded, though refused to disappear altogether.

Astrid came to curled against the crate on the floor, her head buried in her arms, and unsure when she landed there. Dazed, she inelegantly staggered to her feet. She scowled at the doors and the immense buzz that seemed barely contained on the other side.

“Astrid?” Tenya plied.

The chief brushed a hand down Astrid’s arm, to comfort her, but her fingers met with a slick sheen of fresh sweat. Now that Astrid could feel again, the dry air on her damp skin felt suddenly cold.

“What… what was that?” Astrid flexed her hands to ground herself against the energy wave that steamrolled her.

“The engine…” Tenya, too, looked to the engine room doors. “We can’t break atmosphere on a cold start. It has to be warmed up.”

Astrid winced. The noise persisted, but more faint. Uncomfortable, but tolerable.

“Is it always like that?” she asked.

“When it first starts? I guess?” Tenya supposed. “Was it that bad?”

“Yes,” Astrid admitted, shortly. She pulled herself together, and straightened, to ward off further concern.

But inside, Astrid feared she’s neglected to account for what being close to a ship’s engine might do to her.

As brief as the experience proved this time, the fateful guarantee there remained other things she could not anticipate left her shaken.