Sonia, you are first. Give me a nod when you
are ready.”
I lock and load the first ten-round magazine. I have two
more on the deck beside me. Rapid reload, ejecting the empty magazine, and
seating a full one, will be part of the exercise. I cut my eyes to Aria but
before I can nod, a holographic enemy rushes towards me. I give my best
Trooper yell and shoot from the hip. The recoil isn’t close to what I
expected, thanks be to Isis, but it’s still a wallop. I continue to fire the
weapon on semi-automatic. I count the shots. When the last round is
chambered, I thumb the magazine release. The spent magazine falls away. I jam
the new one into the well and I shoot at the next target. At the end of the
exercise I’ve killed five of the nine that rushed me.
Aria nods. “Not bad. Richard?”
Ricky takes his place on the firing line and, his pistol at
the ready, nods. He’s done this before. He coolly and methodically puts three
rounds in each target he engages, one in the gut, one in the chest and one in
the head. He drops all nine, granted the last was within slapping distance,
but he did drop him.
“Excellent.” Aria says, “Twelia?”
Twelia toes the line. I can tell she’d rather be getting a
root canal without an anesthetic while wearing a barbed wire bikini in a pool
filled with magnetic, rusty razor blades. Gods bless her. The M8 looks massive
in her delicate hands. The only thing she does right is to set the weapon on
burst. Three of nine. Firing bursts, the magazine doesn’t last long. The
weapon clicks on the empty chamber. Magazine changes are her downfall. She
looks at the weapon and fumbles removing the empty magazine. As she’s trying
to get the new one seated, holographic foes streak past her. She raises the
weapon to fire but has to charge it first.
Aria calls, “Cease Fire on the line. Firers clear and safe
all weapons. Richard that was excellent. Sonia, you did well. Twelia, stop
moping. We call this ‘training’ for a reason. Now we will go over some basics.
Richard, if you would help Sonia with her shooting stance? Thank you. Twelia,
step over here. Stop pouting sweetie, I will teach you what you need to know.”
Ricky helps me with foot placement. He directs me to scoot
my heel back and rotate my front foot outward. My toes only moved three
quarters of an inch, if that. He gives me some pointers on hand positioning,
how much my elbows should bend. Now I feel rock solid. “You shoot very good,”
he tells me.
“Thank you.”
“Have you fired this weapon before?”
I try a weak smile. “Not this one, a shotgun from time to
time. But I really prefer rifles and pistols. And the way I see it, I was
raped and murdered four times instead of nine.”
“Unlikely. On the street when you fire the first round most
mobs will scatter. Your grip is good, let’s look at your execution.” He leads
me through some dry fire drills. He picks up on my hesitance. “Sonia, I have a
question for you: Are you afraid of this weapon?”
“Afraid? No…well, a little. I like to think of it as a
healthy respect.” He’s not buying it. “Yes,” I confess quietly, “this thing
scares me.”
“Okay, look at it like this then: One of you will be the
master, the other the slave. To be crass about it, is the gun going to be your
bitch or will it be the other way around?” Nobody had ever explained it to me
like that before. I’m nobody’s bitch! Especially not an inanimate object’s!
After a half hour of tutorials and practice, Aria calls us
all back to the line. “Round two, and we dial it up to ‘hazardous.’ Don your
APE suits for added reality.”
With our APE suits on, we also have to adjust the trigger
guards to allow for our APE gloves. The gloves are not thick, but they are
present. Ricky goes first. Eleven for twelve. Then it’s my turn. Nine for
twelve. Statistically, that’s a bit of
are ready.”
I lock and load the first ten-round magazine. I have two
more on the deck beside me. Rapid reload, ejecting the empty magazine, and
seating a full one, will be part of the exercise. I cut my eyes to Aria but
before I can nod, a holographic enemy rushes towards me. I give my best
Trooper yell and shoot from the hip. The recoil isn’t close to what I
expected, thanks be to Isis, but it’s still a wallop. I continue to fire the
weapon on semi-automatic. I count the shots. When the last round is
chambered, I thumb the magazine release. The spent magazine falls away. I jam
the new one into the well and I shoot at the next target. At the end of the
exercise I’ve killed five of the nine that rushed me.
Aria nods. “Not bad. Richard?”
Ricky takes his place on the firing line and, his pistol at
the ready, nods. He’s done this before. He coolly and methodically puts three
rounds in each target he engages, one in the gut, one in the chest and one in
the head. He drops all nine, granted the last was within slapping distance,
but he did drop him.
“Excellent.” Aria says, “Twelia?”
Twelia toes the line. I can tell she’d rather be getting a
root canal without an anesthetic while wearing a barbed wire bikini in a pool
filled with magnetic, rusty razor blades. Gods bless her. The M8 looks massive
in her delicate hands. The only thing she does right is to set the weapon on
burst. Three of nine. Firing bursts, the magazine doesn’t last long. The
weapon clicks on the empty chamber. Magazine changes are her downfall. She
looks at the weapon and fumbles removing the empty magazine. As she’s trying
to get the new one seated, holographic foes streak past her. She raises the
weapon to fire but has to charge it first.
Aria calls, “Cease Fire on the line. Firers clear and safe
all weapons. Richard that was excellent. Sonia, you did well. Twelia, stop
moping. We call this ‘training’ for a reason. Now we will go over some basics.
Richard, if you would help Sonia with her shooting stance? Thank you. Twelia,
step over here. Stop pouting sweetie, I will teach you what you need to know.”
Ricky helps me with foot placement. He directs me to scoot
my heel back and rotate my front foot outward. My toes only moved three
quarters of an inch, if that. He gives me some pointers on hand positioning,
how much my elbows should bend. Now I feel rock solid. “You shoot very good,”
he tells me.
“Thank you.”
“Have you fired this weapon before?”
I try a weak smile. “Not this one, a shotgun from time to
time. But I really prefer rifles and pistols. And the way I see it, I was
raped and murdered four times instead of nine.”
“Unlikely. On the street when you fire the first round most
mobs will scatter. Your grip is good, let’s look at your execution.” He leads
me through some dry fire drills. He picks up on my hesitance. “Sonia, I have a
question for you: Are you afraid of this weapon?”
“Afraid? No…well, a little. I like to think of it as a
healthy respect.” He’s not buying it. “Yes,” I confess quietly, “this thing
scares me.”
“Okay, look at it like this then: One of you will be the
master, the other the slave. To be crass about it, is the gun going to be your
bitch or will it be the other way around?” Nobody had ever explained it to me
like that before. I’m nobody’s bitch! Especially not an inanimate object’s!
After a half hour of tutorials and practice, Aria calls us
all back to the line. “Round two, and we dial it up to ‘hazardous.’ Don your
APE suits for added reality.”
With our APE suits on, we also have to adjust the trigger
guards to allow for our APE gloves. The gloves are not thick, but they are
present. Ricky goes first. Eleven for twelve. Then it’s my turn. Nine for
twelve. Statistically, that’s a bit of
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