"This is because I beat him in a fight, isn't it?"

"Don't be silly. You need to know more than just how to hit people."

"It is, though, isn't it."

Grace sighed inwardly. Tila's refusal to learn was becoming a problem. Confidence was one thing. Over-confidence was was risk. Tila's attitude was now bordering on arrogance, and that was something Grace would not accept in her daughter.

"You beat him in a... let's say in an unorthodox way. Marcus hasn't complained about the fight and is still willing to train you in addition to his regular duties here. You should be grateful he is making the time. Besides, he told me you would be back for more lessons."

"Well, the rest of him is hard to hit," Tila admitted. "But I still don't need a gun."

Tila's protestations had continued all the way to the shooting range but Grace had ignored every one.

"You never know what you will need until you need it. Remember the Solar Forge? You fired a gun there."

"That was different."

"And you missed every shot."

"We're not going to be in a situation that again."

"Pay attention Tila. We're in hostile space. This fleet is conducting boarding actions against asteroids as we speak. None of us have any idea what is coming next. So you need to be ready."

She held the door open for her daughter until the stepped through. Grace sighed in relief, and followed.

"Ma'am," said the duty officer. He nodded at Grace. He had heard all about her role in the mission. He looked Tila once over too. News travels fast on a ship. He had heard of her as well. He gestured with one palm to the datapad on his desk. "Sign in here. Follow the safety briefings at all times or you will be ejected." He looked at Tila again. "Ma'am."

Grace signed them both in and pushed Tila through the next door. There were four soldiers in the room. Three were leaving the range. They checked in weapons and ear defenders one at a time at a booth through which Tila could see cages and racks of weapons and ammunition.

The fourth was Marcus. He stood at ease, feet apart, hands behind his back. He smiled at Grace.

"Good morning Mrs Vasquez, how are you today?"

"I'm fine thank you Major. Are you sure you're up to this particular challenge?"

Marcus snapped his feet together and saluted. "It would be my pleasure, ma'am."

"Just make sure she doesn't kill anyone."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"But I don't need a gun," Tila repeated.

"I hope you're right," said Grace, "But the gym turned out to be more, let's say confrontational, than I expected. Here, your only target is a sheet of paper. Besides, we don't know what's coming. I want you prepared for anything. If something goes wrong I want you to know how to defend yourself."

"But you said it yourself, I don't get on with guns."

"Marcus will teach you."

"I don't get on with with Marcus, either."

"Learn," ordered Grace, and shut the door.

Tila grunted at the door and turned to face Marcus, who was standing back at ease.

"Miss Vasquez," he said politely, but firmly, "I will be your instructor on the range today. We're going to familiarise you with the safe handling of two standard issue weapons, the M106 battle rifle and the P9 sidearm."

"Oh, good."

"Tila, the sooner you follow my instructions the sooner you can get out of here."

"Fine, go on."

"You are not to handle any weapon unless it has first been cleared by me. Do you understand?"

"Sure."

"I'm going to need something more affirmative than that. These are dangerous weapons. An accident in there can kill somebody. Do you understand?"

Chastised, Tila said, "Yes, I understand."

"You will stand behind the firing line at all times. You will respond to all my instructions at once, without question. Any time you have a weapon in your hand it will point toward the range targets only. When you are not shooting a weapon it will be placed on the table in front of you. No exceptions. Do you understand?"

Tila nodded.

"I said—"

"Yes I understand!"

Marcus spun on his heel toward the window. "Sergeant, a P9 and an M106 please." The sergeant behind the window quickly located the weapons and slid them across the booth counter horizontally and one at a time. Marcus signed each one out before the next was produced. The sergeant then slid over what looked to Tila like a standard universal power pack, and a small box. Marcus signed these out too. He took two sets of blue ear defenders from the wall and put one around his neck and one around Tila's. The box and power pack he gave to Tila. The weapons he carried himself. He elbowed the door control.

"Ladies first," he said. "Head to lane twelve at the end. We don't want to disturb anyone."

"There's no one else here."

"Not yet."

The room was long and low. Sandbags covered the wall to their left and white lines painted on the floor marked out the the individual firing lanes. Separating them from the lanes was a low counter which stretched from one side of the room to the other. Dividers separated each lane on. Tila walked to the counter of lane twelve. The counter was divided in two sections, left and right, separated by a think red line. She put her items on the left. Marcus joined her. He placed the weapons on the right side of the line.

Marcus pointed at the pistol and battle rifle.

"Weapons," he said. He pointed at Tila's two items. "Ammunition." Tila nodded. "These items do not cross the centre line unless they are in my hands. Do you understand?"

Tila nodded again. They were the only people in here, but he was still talking to her like this? "I understand," she said clearly.

"Good, now step away from the counter please."

Tila stepped away. She was curious how this was going to work. She watched him adopt his teacher persona. Legs apart, hands behind his back, chin up. Marcus always seemed so formal, so stiff. She had a feeling this lesson was going to be like having a manual shout at you for an hour.

"Today I am going to introduce you to the standard ballistic and plasma sidearms of the Commonwealth marine corps. You will not take any action unless instructed by me, and any instruction I give you will be carried out to the letter and without hesitation."

He certainly seemed to be sticking to the script so far. "I understand."

"Have you ever fired a weapon before?"

"Only an energy weapon."

"What sort of targets were you shooting at?"

"Uh, real ones."

"You have live fire experience?"

"They were shooting back. Does that count?" That surprised you didn't it, she thought.

"You've been in a real firefight?" he said doubtfully. "When? Where?"

"I can't tell you that,' said Tila. She sighed, as if the burden of what was coming next weighed heavy on her soul. 'It's classified."

"Classified?"

"I'm afraid so."

Marcus looked at her, clenching his jaw, which she noticed with a mischievous glee.

"Do you know the difference between ballistic and plasma side arms?"

"Is this a trick question? One shoots energy and one shoots bits of metal?"

"Correct. Do you know what this means?"

"They can both kill you?

Marcus nodded. So she wasn't a total loss.

"Standard practice is to disallow all ballistic weapons on a ship. The risk of slug penetration is too high. Therefore the—"

"Wait, are you serious?"

"About what?"

"A gun that big could shoot through a starship hull, even a warship like this?"

"Weapon, not gun. It's unlikely of course, but accidents can happen. Ballistics can cause more damage to the interior of a ship than personal energy weapons, and the risk of a ricochet is greater."

'Why are we allowed to shoot them in here?"

"This room is specially designed and shielded to prevent penetration."

"So why not make the whole ship out of the same thing?"

Marcus hesitated. Was she serious?

"Tila, are you being difficult?"

"Probably. Are you just going to keep reciting your scripts and forget to treat me like a person?"

Marcus hesitated again. 'Probably,' he admitted.

"Want to make a deal?"

"What sort of deal?" he said warily.

"I won't give you a hard time if you don't treat this like a punishment. I don't care about any of this but I'll see it through for the sake of my mother."

Marcus thought about it then stuck out his hand. "Agreed, but the safety aspect of our time here is non-negotiable."

Tila took his hand and shook it. "Fair enough."

Marcus looked her in the eye before letting go of her hand. "Have you really been in a fire fight?"

"Yes, but it really is classified. I wasn't making that up. Sorry."

"Maybe another time then, when I have clearance."

"Maybe."

A beat passed between them, just a beat, and then Marcus was back to business. He picked up the pistol in one hand and the power cell in the other.

"Pay attention. This is how you load the P9 plasma-based sidearm."