Ms. Reynolds placed the pistol on the safety stand and removed her hearing protection. “I’ve got seventeen years on either one of you.”
She unbuckled the gun belt and handed it to Chloe. “Your turn.”
Chloe adjusted the belt for her larger waist, loaded the weapon, and put her ear protection back in place. She stepped up to the firing line with the gun in her holster and her hands at the ready position.
Diana’s voice was curiously soothing. “This is baseline. Show me where you are so we know what to work on, OK?”
Chloe nodded.
A chime announced the start of the exercise and a random interval later, the fire signal sounded. Chloe responded with a smooth draw and a shot at the target.
Chloe dropped the gun to waist level, broke the action open, yanked the casing out, and tossed it toward the case bin. She missed. While she scrambled to retrieve the errant bit of metal, Diana made a clucking noise and shook her head. “Relax, relax, relax. The timer stops when you hit the target. It doesn’t start again until you draw. On reload, just be fast enough not to irritate people waiting their turn.”
Chloe huffed, mumbled something . . . but did relax a bit and reloaded smoothly.
Chloe ran through the ten rounds in her rack, and Diana ended the exercise. The display awarded her an average time of 2.53 seconds, the hits in a random pattern all over the target’s chest area and two clean misses.
Diana studied the pattern in silence for a few seconds before addressing Chloe. “Not bad, but when do you put your finger inside the trigger guard?”
Chloe paused before she replied. “When I bring the gun up, I guess. I’m trying—”
“You’re missing.” Diana held her hand out, index finger extended. “Your finger stays outside the guard until the sights have stabilized on what you want to hit.” Diana folded the extended finger into her hand.
Chloe bit her lip. “But the speed . . .”
“You only get one shot. The worst thing you can do is waste it. ‘Don’t point the gun at anything you don’t want to destroy; don’t touch the trigger until you know what you’ll hit.’”
At Diana’s recitation of the training maxims, Chloe bowed her head and let her shoulders droop. “Yes, ma’am.”
Diana’s voice softened. “Don’t worry about speed. Worry about form. Get the movements right and speed will come.”
Chloe set the gun on the stand, released the gun belt, and handed it to Kira.
Diana tapped something into the command console and offered no further comment.
Kira stepped up to the line, ear protectors in place and the gun heavy on her thigh. She drew a deep breath and focused, shutting out both her fear and the weight of Diana’s gaze.
“Try a wider stance.”
Kira obeyed. By the time the chime announced the exercise’s start, Kira’s world included nothing except the gun and the target. At the draw signal, her right hand found the weapon and extracted it from the holster, meeting her left at waist level. Her thumb flicked off the safety as she raised her arms, and when she had a clear view of the sights and the target, she squeezed the trigger. She reloaded and continued the exercise, repeating the actions while holding everything else behind a haze of inattention. It would all be there when she was done. When the casing from the last bullet hit the bin, Diana called a halt.
The hologram scoreboard gave Kira an average time of 2.39 seconds, but her hits fell in a tight pattern, most of them in the darkest three circles near the target’s heart.
“Nice job. You’re pulling a little left; allow for that next time.”
Kira turned away from the display and faced Diana. “OK. Thanks.”
The instructor’s attention remained on the control panel. “You two have class at eight?”
Kira and Chloe nodded.
Diana looked up. “That’s a yes?”
Kira and Chloe stumbled over each other’s affirmative responses.
“OK, that’s it. Clean the pistol and put the brass in the box.”
Kira ran a cleaning rag through the pistol barrel while Chloe fetched the case bin.
“It’s two weeks until the evaluation. Can you two meet me in the lobby of this building at six every morning from now until then?”
Kira’s chest became light. “Sure!” She picked up the box. “Do we need to bring—”
“No, I’ll take care of it.” Diana held out her hands. “You two get to class. I’ll take this back to Pete.”
The lightness disappeared. “Is Pete going to get in trouble?”
Diana looked as if Kira had told a joke only Diana understood. “No. Shaking down trainees for beer money is minor. But he needs to know somebody’s paying attention.”
Slowly, Kira surrendered the box.
With the container in her custody, Diana added. “Pete won’t deal with you in an ‘unofficial’ capacity again, and neither will anyone he knows. But that won’t be a problem for you.”
“Why not?” Chloe blurted.
Once more, Diana produced the joke-that-only-she-got smile. “Because now, you know me.”
Chapter 6
Kira emerges from the scanner onto the dueling field. She stops, absorbing the vastness, her isolation, and the silence. As always, it feels like an empty theater that will never fill.
Diana arrives, a pillar of calm. Her uniform is nearly identical to Kira’s, except for the large TKC logo on the front, rather than the shoulders. Since no one is shooting at Diana, there’s no danger of it becoming a target. Kira flashes her hand signs, indicating her readiness and her estimate of Niles’s preparedness. Diana flashes hers in return. Field OK. Expected second.
Kira nods in acknowledgment. Tom Dryden, Niles’s third and longest-lasting second, will guide him through the match. Good news for Kira and Diana’s strategy.
Diana turns and leads the way to the judge’s table in silence. Kira follows, seeing more of the broad, muscular expanse of Diana’s back than the administrative area they’re approaching. Her second’s hair is grayer than when they first met, and that’s at least partly Kira’s fault. Delivering a win today will all but guarantee Diana’s place in the Guild’s Hall of Champions, and Diana’s share of the purse will underwrite her retirement from the dueling field. Surely that will make up for the times Kira straggled into work late and tried to phone it in, only to have Diana snap her back to the reality that she was preparing to face real bullets.
Maybe it’s even enough to repay her for the times Kira terrified Diana in a way the older woman could only express as anger.
They arrive at their destination. Kira stops short of the centerline and turns to face the judge’s table. Everything is in place: Diana on her left, the centerline on her right, and the combat area at her back.
Behind the table, the two wards in brick-colored body armor cradle their stun rifles with easy precision. Beside them, the EMTs look small and out of place, preservers of life in a temple dedicated to death. The judge stands over them all, aloof on his elevated bench, protected by a transparent plastic shield and the dignity of his red satin robes.
Gun belts, holsters, and dueling pistols are laid out on the table in sets, along with the bullets—one each, standing at attention, light bouncing off the polished casing. All part of the show. In her mind’s eye, Kira sees one of the steel-jacketed 9mm rounds penetrate her tunic and rip through her body, leaving shattered bones and ruined organs in its wake.
She turns to Diana for . . . what? Comfort? Reassurance? Guidance?
Her trainer responds with a small nod and another hand signal: you are ready.
Chapter 7
Kira fidgeted outside the briefing room door. The firing range portion of her evaluation had gone well. At least it looked that way. But had it gone well enough to impress Diana? The only way to know for sure was to open the briefing room door and hear what she had to say, and Kira didn’t dare—she just had to wait. She fidgeted some more. Her handset buzzed. Appointment time. She pressed
the entry chime button.
A calm alto voice responded. “Come in.”
Kira entered. Diana looked up, pointed to the open seat across from the room’s tiny worktable, and tapped something into her data pad. “Sit.”
Kira perched on the edge of the chair, her back ramrod-straight and her shoulders in a knot.
At last, Diana smiled. “Congratulations, you’re no longer a new fish.”
“Thank you.” Kira’s shoulders unwound a little. Good news so far.
Diana turned her data pad’s display toward Kira. “You threw a tighter pattern than anyone in your class—a little off center, but not enough to hurt at this point.” The display changed. “Your speed just missed the top third. There’s room to improve, but that’s good enough for now. If you keep at it, you’ll have no problem with the November evaluation.”
Kira squirmed a little. “Do you think I have a shot at the Regional Cup?”
Diana looked thoughtful. “Hard to say. That’s competition with people from thirty companies in four different cities, and we don’t know anything about most of them. Besides, it’s not until graduation.”
Kira licked her lips. “Is that why they keep being vague about the cash prize?”
Diana smiled a little. “No. That’s because the Guild locals bargain for the companies’ contribution. A couple thousand one way or the other sets the tone for contract negotiations. But, it’s usually around forty thousand unis for first place, half that for second, and about ten for third.”
The calculator in Kira’s head spun. Even after taxes, that first prize could repay her signing bonus with some left over. She’d still need a job with a high enough salary to make her payments, but it wouldn’t have to be gunfighting.
Diana slapped the table, pulling Kira back to the here and now. “You’ve got other things to do in the next ten months. Don’t worry about the Cup until the quarter before graduation.” Diana’s face became more serious. “They made a deep cut this time. A fourth of your classmates won’t be here tomorrow.”
Kira’s shoulders knotted again. “Chloe?”
“I can’t tell you another trainee’s score, but you won’t have to break in a new roommate.”
“That’s good.” Kira eased back into her chair once more.
“Here’s your overall standing.” Diana adjusted the display and pointed to a line just below Kira’s rank. “Here’s the lower edge of the top fifth.” She set the pad aside. “Do you have any questions?”
Kira chewed on her cheek. She had a question, but was asking it a good idea? She’d been lucky, she’d survived the cut, and she should let it go. Thank Diana for her help, hope she’d be willing to help again, and say no more.
But if she could get Diana to exercise her prerogative as a senior instructor and become a mentor for her and Chloe . . .
Calm gray eyes watched Kira from the far side of the worktable, as if they could see the struggle going on inside Kira’s head.
Kira pulled up close to the table, put her elbows on it, and forced herself to meet Diana’s gaze. Nobody did favors for people who didn’t stick up for themselves. She tried to keep her voice casual. “Are you going to keep working with Chloe and me as your mentees?”
Diana looked as if she’d tasted something unexpected, but not unpleasant. “Why do you think that would be a good idea?”
Kira swallowed to clear the dryness in her throat. “We improved when you worked with us. I got faster and tighter. Chloe is more accurate and more consistent.” She swallowed again. “We might make good clients when you rotate off instructor duty. If we work together, maybe the AI will match us.” It sounded weak, even as she said it. Asking Diana to take them as mentees was begging for a favor, no two ways about it.
Diana sat back and contemplated Kira. “Your aim is excellent, your reflexes are good, and you focus better than anyone I’ve ever worked with. Your first day in the simulator was interesting, too.”
Kira frowned. “I died.”
Diana almost laughed. “That’s nearly inevitable.” Kira looked puzzled, and Diana leaned closer and spoke in a confidential tone. “It’s a setup. The point of the exercise is to show the people who think they know everything that they don’t know anything. So we toss you into a new environment and pit you against people at the top of their game. The ones who know firearms suffer the worst. They think growing up around weapons or owning a bunch of fancy pistols makes them better gunfighters. They don’t realize how different and artificial the dueling field is.”
Kira rolled that over in her mind. “OK, but I still died.”
Diana chuckled. “Because you scared the crap out of Sanchez.”
“What? You just said we had no chance.”
Diana took on the same calm, matter-of-fact tone she might have used to explain the basics of a good grip. “New fish are even more predictable than citizens. They fixate on the strikeline, march right down it, and then draw and turn as fast as they can. It’s never fast enough, but they think it’s all about speed, so they keep trying. The only reason everyone doesn’t die in the first round is the professionals play with it. With a real opponent and live rounds, you always go for the kill, but in this exercise, they can afford to hit people in the leg, wing them on the bicep, or put off-center shots through the abdomen just to drag it out. You can mess around when your opponent is slow, you know where they’ll be standing, and nobody is in danger.” She pointed to Kira. “But you decided to march for the far corner of the kill box. What were you thinking?”
Kira sighed. “I knew I couldn’t outdraw Sanchez, but I knew I could turn pretty fast. So I thought if I showed up in an unexpected spot, I might have a chance.”
“So you were thinking about tactics.”
“I guess. But it didn’t work.”
“You didn’t have the speed or the skills to carry it off. But when you weren’t where Sanchez expected, he panicked and killed you outright.” Again, Diana grinned a little. “All his other opponents in your group, too. It was a short session.”
So that hadn’t been as big a disaster as she thought. What else was she wrong about?
“Were we . . .” Kira shifted uncomfortably, searching for both words and an emotional position. She forced herself to look at Diana again as she delivered her question. “Were Chloe and I ever as far down as we thought we were?”
A smile stole across the instructor’s face. “No. You were both always in the top third.”
“Then what about—?”
“The class rank people were talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“That was a hearing test. It’s measured in the percent of your original hearing you’ve lost. You and Chloe have good ears, which put you near the bottom.”
Heat rose in Kira’s chest. “You knew that.”
Diana remained calm and silent.
“But you let us think . . .” Kira trailed off, not trusting herself to say more. Did she even want Diana as a mentor now?
Diana folded her arms and leaned on the table. “I don’t know who left the results out, or why, but I knew what was happening. I let it play out because it told me something I needed to know.”
“Which was what?” Kira couldn’t keep the suspicion out of her voice.
Diana leaned back and swung one leg over the other. “There are three things to do when you’re down: quit, keep doing what you’re doing, or do what it takes to get back up. Any one of those can be right, but most people are too quick to quit. Especially if they’re identified as talented and gifted.”
Kira’s jaw twitched. That tag had followed her all the way to graduate school, and it had done at least as much harm as good.
Diana continued. “You have potential, but that’s nothing if you can’t recover after a setback.” She smiled again. “You recover well.”
“So you want to mentor me and Chloe.”
“I want to mentor you.”
Kira frowned. “Look, if you think I’m scrappy and recover wel
l, Chloe is like twice that. She got the tip that got us into the training center.”
Diana took a breath. “Chloe’s a scrapper, I’ll give her that. Life dealt her a shitty hand, and she’s busted her ass for everything she has. But she doesn’t have your raw ability. I’m looking for people to take as clients when I rotate off instructor duty. You’re right about the AI. If we work together and request each other, we’ll probably be matched. I can only take five, and I need to be selective.”
Kira stared at the tabletop. If she took Diana’s offer, was it really betraying Chloe? She’d done what she could do. It was Diana’s decision, not hers. Besides, Chloe didn’t even like Diana. She was still afraid of her, even after the prep sessions. Anyway, there were nearly ten months until graduation. She could broach the subject with Diana again later, after she had the chance to feel things out a little more . . .
Diana folded her arms and leaned on the table again, continuing in her matter-of-fact tone. “It’s your decision, but you should know some things that aren’t public record. First, I’ve never worked with a trainee who failed to graduate. Second, my clients live. In a typical class, only about a third stay alive to complete the twenty-six matches they owe TKC after graduation. For my clients, it’s half. That’s the best record in the Guild.”
Kira’s throat tightened, and she struggled to get the words out. “A third? They keep telling us we have a 96 percent chance of walking off the field alive if we’re good enough to get through training.”
Diana got that amused look again. “Six and a half years of college, and you never took a stat class.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, but how . . . ?”
“If you lose 4 percent of the class on every match, by the time you complete twenty-six matches, only a third are left. Cumulative odds are like compound interest. It’s a little worse at the beginning and a bit better at the end, but that’s how it works.”
Kira folded in on herself. To stay in the program, she needed to pass three quarterly evaluations, and Diana could help with that. With any luck at all, something would turn up on the outside before survival rates became important to Kira. For Chloe, though . . .
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