Spaced Out

Most Men Do

Guns weren't Lily's thing.

Before she ever shot anything, she thought a gun would transform her into an alluring and mysterious woman with a wardrobe comprised of leather catsuits, thigh high boots, and corsets. When the weight of the gun settled in her hands and the weight of the attached responsibility settled on her shoulders she locked up.

Coaching from her dad loosened her up enough to fire off a few clips from a .22, but her muscles and teeth clenched all the way through the session. She never wanted to do it again, so a doom-and-gloom pall overcast her march to the recreation lounge.

The lounge was the big empty room that reminded Lily of a gymnasium. Vortrand stood at a podium studded with knobs, HOptic icons, and switches. He adjusted the machine's settings. A voxic image of a Verakian man flickered on in the middle of the space.

"Sit over there," Vortrand said and flung his hand in the direction he preferred her.

An L-Striker and an array of tools and liquis cartridges sat on the step that lined the lounge's perimeter. The shallow drop from the step to the activity floor formed a perfect sitting stoop. Lily plopped next to the Striker and its accessories. She picked at the frayed hem of her cut offs while she waited on the captain.

When Vortrand dropped into place on the step, the Striker paraphernalia created a cushion of space between them. He plucked up the gun from the rectangle of cloth on which it rested. Pressing a small catch on the weapon's handle dropped a half-spent liquis cartridge from the ammunition chamber. He swirled the clear cylinder, sloshing the fluorescent mixture it contained around and around.

"An L-Striker has three basic parts: the liquis cartridge." Vortand held the discharged cylinder before Lily's face. "Battery pack." He angled the weapon sideways and displayed the square power core. "And the magnetic cycle barrel." A tiny button on the Striker's barrel split the blast end open like a beak.

After collapsing the barrel again, Vortrand demonstrated how to break the L-Striker down and reconstruct it. How to clean it and what to clean it with. Bo-ring. Half of Lily's attention lingered on his instruction while the other half wandered to the Prestige arenas. She had a dedicated avatar for generational bouts she wanted to play with. Legs jostled in an impatient dance. The captain handed the reconstructed Striker to her.

"Now that I've demonstrated de-assembly and reassembly, you should have no trouble with the task yourself." He smirked.

Lily gawped at him then at the L-Striker, trying to remember which part came off first. Sweaty fingers slipped over mechanisms she loosened on the gun. Reddened grooves dented the pads of her thumb and index finger from her pinching and pulling of small, sharp parts. She wiped her hand on her shorts and set to work again while Vortrand yammered on.

"Unlike standard firearms which rely on an explosive charge and metal bullets or dakolite ammunition blocks, L-Strikers operate on a magnetic propulsion system. Look here." Vortrand slipped a second Striker from his shoulder holster as Lily puzzled over some extra pieces from her reassembled model.

There probably shouldn't be extra pieces.