by Kal Spriggs
I felt surprise at the strength in her voice. I also felt like I had underestimated her, it seemed like Takenata had more strength than I had realized. Clearly Ingvald agreed, she gave her a nod, “Defending your home, protecting your family, these are tied into the founding principles of Century's Planetary Militia.”
Ingvald's attention went down the hallway to where Summers' hands had dropped. “Summers, since you seem to want to take a break, how about you tell us all a bit about yourself?”
“Uh,” Summer said, “I'm Dave Summers, I'm from Rockpoint. We have a strip mine there, it's the biggest one on Century and we have to wear respirators when the wind blows.” I glanced over and could see him turn red, “I, uh, hadn't really thought about why I wanted to be here. It was the best school that accepted my application so I just sort of decided I'd have the best options here.”
Ingvald's voice dropped to a dangerously friendly tone, “You hadn't really thought... why does that not surprise me? Now get your hands back up and get back to polishing, Candidate!” She finished the last in a roar and I could see Summers's hands jerk back out to full extension. “And maybe you should do some thinking, long and hard, about why you want to be here!”
“Karmazin, since you couldn't get your roommate back on track before I noticed, how about you tell us about yourself... from the front leaning rest position?”
Karmazin moved there quickly. “I am Alexander Karmazin, I'm from the Enclave, out near the Great Salt Flats. It's unique because we're an independent founding, we don't answer directly to the Charter Council or the President.” He didn't even pause before he answered the rest, “I'm here because I want to serve and protect Century.”
Ingvald stared at him for a long moment and when she finally did speak, I heard a note of respect in her voice, “The Enclave, huh? Alright, go ahead and recover.” She spun around and her gaze locked on another target.
“Dawson, you're up next!” Ingvald called out.
***
Chapter Eleven: Guns and Friends
“This, Candidates, is our indoor firing range,” Cadet Instructor Marris said cheerfully. His normally dour expression was creased with the first smile I’d ever seen on him. “You can see, we have ten lanes with targets out to thirty meters. This is where you will zero and practice firing for the qualification range.”
I held my rifle at 'port arms' a position they had taught to us earlier that day, just before they ran us through an instruction on the functions of our rifles. These were what they called an Alpha Eleven. The weapon itself carried a magazine that held twenty rounds of eleven millimeter ammunition. In addition to the disassembly and reassembly that we had already done, they had shown us how to do a 'mechanical zero' which seemed to consist of aligning the sights with the barrel. I had assumed that the weapons would come that way, but apparently not. They'd also let us 'dry fire' which consisted of practicing without ammunition.
I had felt a little silly laying on my stomach in the hallway outside my room and 'aiming' at a target taped on the wall across from me. But then again, the entire section was doing it, and even though I half-expected someone to shout out 'bang' as they squeezed the trigger, everyone seemed pretty focused.
My humor had worn off, though, as we lined up to receive ammunition. Until this week, I had never even handled a gun, much less fired one. My father kept an old rifle, his grandfather's, I think, up above the mantel, but I'd only ever seen him take it down to dust it and as far as I knew, he didn't even have any ammunition. Black Mesa was so close to the equator that we didn't have any wildlife to worry about and most of the people who lived there worked the archaeological site or the weather station for the university, so it wasn't as if we had any crime to speak of.
The two magazines of eleven millimeter ammunition seemed abnormally heavy as Cadet Instructor Salter passed them to me. At least, I thought, First Squad would go ahead of me. I hoped I would have some time to watch them and to settle my nerves.
They loaded their weapons at the commands of Marris and then took up firing positions. We were firing today without body armor, but they warned us that we would be issued that in the next few days, before we went out to the Grinder.
“Engage your targets,” Marris said, his gruff voice calm.
The first shot made me bounce in the air. Before that first sharp crack had the chance to fade, there was a steady rattle as the other cadets fired. I knew it should only be thirty shots, total, but it sounded like far more than that and I found my hands trembling on my rifle when silence finally fell.
The targets swept in and Marris stalked down the firing line. I couldn't hear him, through my ear protection, as he inspected each of the targets and advised each person on their performance. I felt a roaring in my ears and my stomach did flips. Could I do this, I wondered, or would I just embarrass myself? I wasn't even sure if I could hit a target.
Marris had said earlier that we had to have five shots out of six in a 'group' or cluster on target and that we would fire three shots at a time before making adjustments to the sights. I didn't really understand much of what they had said about shooting. It had seemed simple enough to me, aim down the sight and that should be where the bullet would hit, right?
That was how it happened in the entertainment shows, anyway. I wasn't much of one for action movies, but the handful that I'd watched with Tony made shooting out to be simple enough. I mean, the good guys almost always hit what they shot at, anyway. Yeah, there was recoil, and I remember seeing actors flinch or wince in pain from the recoil of their weapons. Would shooting hurt?
The targets went back out and the next round of firing got underway. I trembled even more at these shots. The concrete walls seemed to amplify the noise to the point that I could feel each shot in my stomach.
This series of shots seemed to go by too quickly. A moment later Marris walked down the line and tapped several people on the shoulder, including Sashi. They pulled down their targets and stepped back. Marris waved at me “Next four, come on up!”
I felt my stomach clench as I walked forward. My hands clenched so tight on my rifle that they began to tingle. I laid my rifle down and put the two magazines of ammunition next to it. A moment later, Marris handed me a paper target.
My hands quivered as fumbled to hook up the target to the hanging stand. It was almost like my fingers had forgotten how to work. I finally got the target hooked up and stepped back.
“Take your positions, load your weapons,” Marris said, even as he flipped a switch to send the targets forward. I knelt and then lay on my belly. My rifle seemed inordinately heavy as I braced it to my shoulder and fumbled with the magazine.
I realized that I was trying to put it in backwards and finally turned it around and jammed it in. I chambered a round and felt like my heart was going to beat its way out of my chest. “Engage your targets,” Marris said, his voice distant.
I looked down my sights and it took me several long seconds to even make out the target, even though it was only ten meters away. The vaguely humanoid shape at the center of the paper looked pathetically small at even this distance. It felt like I had to wrestle my rifle to get it lined up on the target, and even then, the sights seemed to obscure most of it. I finally had it aimed, vaguely, at the center of the paper when the first shot went out.
I started and my rifle barrel swung off the target and I was aimed at empty space. I wrestled the weapon around again and started to pull the trigger when the other shots fired. I flinched and my finger jerked the trigger.
I had expected an earth-shattering explosion, but was awarded with only a bang, no worse than the others. I didn't even realize there wasn't an impact of recoil. I had no idea where my first shot had gone, but as I heard the other shots dying down, I realized I needed to hurry up and fire my other two shots.
I got my weapon aimed generally at the center of the paper and fired a second time and then a third, both times I flinched as I fired, half afraid that the rifle would swing up
and hit me in the face from recoil. Both times, though, there was nothing and I felt both excited and a little embarrassed by my fear.
I laid my rifle down and waited as Marris flipped his switch and the targets came back. I stood up with the others and my gaze searched my target paper for holes. I my stomach fell, though, as I didn't see anything around the silhouette at the center. Surely I had hit something.
“All right, who thinks they're a comedian?” Marris snarled from the shooting point next to me. He pulled the target down and looked around, “Gordon's target has five holes in it and he only fired three times.”
I felt my face flush. Surely I hadn't...
Despite myself, I raised my hand, “Sir, I think I fired at the wrong target, sir.”
“You fired at the wrong...” He shook his head. “Candidate Gordon, here's your new target. We can't tell which hits are yours and which are hers. Candidate Armstrong...” He pulled out a neon orange marker and stepped forward to draw a circle around the center of my target. “This is your target, aim at it, understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I responded, just desperate to get the encounter over with. Four months, three days, I thought, and I just need five hits on the target in a group.
“Good, now since you didn't hit your target, don't make any adjustments on your sight,” he said. He moved on to the next target and paused. I heard him sigh, “Takenata, here is your new target. Apparently we know where Candidate Armstrong's third shot went.”
If I could have melted into the floor, just then, I would have.
Finally, however, Marris finished walking the line and then flipped a switch to send the targets back down. “Engage your targets,” he called out.
This time my hands didn't tremble so much as I aimed, but the first shots around me still made me start and fighting to bring the weapon's sights in line with the target was almost impossible. I finally settled in and took my first shot, then a second, and third. Each time, I flinched at the sharp crack.
My stomach sank even further as the targets came in this time. There were no holes near the center of the paper. I had one, slight crease at the edge of the target, where the bullet had cut just a bit out of the side of the paper.
When Marris got to me I could tell he was frustrated. “Don't make any adjustments, Candidate, you don't have a shot group.”
The next series I had one hole in the bottom corner and one through the top.
The fifth time I fired there was one hole, just under the silhouette at the center of the target. I bit my lip as Marris stared at my target. “First time shooter?” He finally asked. I just nodded.
“Alright, I'm going to assign you one of the other candidates to act as your firing coach. Do whatever he or she says, like it was me. I'm going to get the others moving back to the barracks. You and your firing coach will keep working here until you've properly zeroed your weapon, and then you come immediately back, understand?”
“Sir,” I said, miserably, “yes, sir.”
He stepped back from the line and I waited, on my belly, as he finished his way down the line and then stepped back to talk to someone out of my line of sight. How much more embarrassing will this get, I wondered, will he assign someone like Rakewood to make scathing comments to me?
I had no idea what a 'firing coach' did, but I couldn't imagine that it would help much, not unless the other candidate was going to shoot for me. A moment later, I heard footsteps and then someone knelt next to me. I glanced over and felt my face heat. Of course, I thought, he sent Karmazin, because who else besides the arrogant, handsome, too-perfect, jerk?
“Hey,” he said, his voice calm. “First time shooting?”
Despite myself, I nodded. I expected him to sneer in derision, but he just gave me a small nod, “Nothing to worry about. I was watching you fire earlier, before I went up, so I kind of guessed.” He looked around, “Just ignore the others, right now, focus on what I say, okay?”
I nodded in reply. Alexander Karmazin leaned over, “Okay, for one thing, you are too tense. Relax. Get comfortable. These Alpha Elevens have a bit of recoil, but it's not going to knock you over or anything like that. Next, you're trying to force the rifle on target. Adjust your body, like so,” he said, as he pulled my right foot back and over a bit. “Brace yourself with your elbows. Your bones are steady, if you're resting on your muscle, you'll be moving and shifting. Next,” he said, “Cradle the rifle in tight. You're holding it out, away from you, like you're afraid of it.”
I followed his advice, but it was still hard. He adjusted my hands and pushed the rifle tight into my shoulder. For some reason, I felt a bit of a tingle where his hands had touched mine. “Good,” he said, “Now, get your face in snug with the sights. Your eye should almost be resting on the frame, there, so that you can see better.”
I did as he said and I was shocked at the difference. The target seemed so much easier to see. My trembling was practically gone and the slight motion of my barrel was dancing around the center of the target rather than through the air around it. “That's much better,” I said.
“Good,” Karmazin answered. “Now, when you go to fire, you're flinching. I could tell from fifteen feet back. Just relax. Squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it. Gentle, steady motion, okay? Later you can worry about shooting between breaths, right now, let's just try to get a good shot group. After you fire, don't shift position, just keep firing, slow and steady, that way we can see a pattern.”
“Yeah,” I said. I concentrated and slowly squeezed the trigger. The recoil, this time, came as a surprise, but it wasn't enough to even shift me off the target. I fired a second time, again squeezing slowly until I fired. The third shot felt almost perfect and I realized, with a shock, that I was enjoying this.
Without the clamor of the other shooters, with the range to myself, and finally doing it right felt good. It felt more than good... it felt great.
Karmazin stood and flipped the switch to bring my target in. “Stay down there, we've got you in a good firing position, I don't want to change things up,” he said. He put the target down next to me where I could see it. “You've got a good grouping, a little high and to the right, but we'll adjust your sights.” He paused, “Now these old Alpha Elevens, that's going to be two or three notches down and left and that should bring the target right dead on.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He looked at me in surprise, “What? I'm not doing anything special.”
“You're treating me like a human being,” I said, “I appreciate it.”
He snorted at that, “Thanks for not biting my head off.”
I bit my lip at that, I had been a bit sharp with him before. It was just that he was so standoffish and aloof and handsome. I mean, Tony was good looking, but Karmazin just had that perfect jaw and his gray eyes were striking, especially from so close.
Karmazin cleared his throat and I realized that I'd been staring. I looked down at my rifle and made my adjustments with hands that trembled.
“All right,” he said as he sent the target back out. “Let's try this again. Same thing, take your time, squeeze the trigger, relax.”
I was painfully aware of how close to me he was as I looked down the sights. I had to take calming breaths to force myself to relax again and take the shots. This time, as the target came in, neither of us spoke, though I felt a thrill when I saw all three shots were dead center.
He sent it out again and I couldn't help but ask the question that bothered me, “So, how are you so good at this?”
I could see him purse his too-handsome lips. “Good at what?”
“Teaching me how to shoot,” I said.
He just shrugged, “I've done this before. Not,” he waved a hand around, “exactly this, but similar.”
“Was that back at the Enclave?” I asked, remembering what he had said earlier.
He shot me a sharp look, “How about we focus on the task at hand?”
I took aim again and fired, this time the three sh
ots felt right and I didn't feel any surprise when he brought the target in and I had another three holes, right at the center. He snorted, “You're a natural, once you loosen up enough to let yourself enjoy it.”
“Thanks,” I said and felt my face heat again.
He sighed, “We probably could fire another few sets, no one would know...”
I frowned. I was tempted. In only a few minutes I'd seen that shooting could be enjoyable... yet I really didn't want to get in trouble. Harmless though it might be, Marris had given us both a measure of trust to do what he had said. We would be violating that trust if we didn't follow his instructions. “We should probably get back,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, reluctantly, even as he eyed the target, “I suppose we should.”
***
We took the tunnels back, both at a jog. There was something oddly comfortable about jogging along next to Karmazin. I couldn't match his stride, but there was a weird sort of symmetry as we fell into pace next to each other. After the odd closeness I'd felt shooting with him, I felt a strange fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach.
I am not feeling anything for him besides gratitude, I thought defiantly. He had helped me out, he had treated me like a real person. That was all.
“...when she asks, stick to the story,” I heard a familiar voice say. My pace slowed as I looked around. It sounded like Cadet Instructor Hilton's voice. Which was odd, since he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near us, I had thought.
“I know,” said another familiar voice. Rakewood, I thought, what the hock is she doing down here? “It's not like it's hard. Not as hard as all this. You told me you would make things easier on me.” I came to a halt and looked around. It took me a moment to notice the air vent near the ceiling and to realize that was where the voices came from. The two must be upstairs, somewhere, maybe in one of the Cadet Instructor's rooms?
“I'm trying,” Hilton said, “I got you a nice, docile roomie, didn't I? I've helped you slip out a couple of times now, and you don't know it, but I've prevented some punishments from coming your way.” Next to me, I saw that Karmazin had stopped too, his head cocked as he listened.