Use of Weapons

'Huh.' He held the weapon in one hand, up and out from his body, then slapped the back of the stock with his other hand, whirling the big rifle round so that it spun like a rotor in front of his face and chest. He didn't take his eyes off the drone while he did this. He was still looking at the machine when he twisted his wrist, brought the gun to a stop — already aimed straight at the distant black cube of ice — and fired it, all in one smooth action. Again, the gun seemed to fire, but the ice sat undisturbed.

'The hell it's working,' he said.

'How exactly did your conversation with the ship go, when you asked for your 'rubbish'?' the drone inquired.

'I don't remember,' he said loudly. 'I told it what a complete cretin it was for not having some junk to shoot at, and it said when people wanted to shoot at real shit they usually used ice. So I said, all right then, you scumbag rocket… or something like that; give me some ice!' He held out his hands expressively. 'That was all.' He dropped the gun.

The drone caught it. 'Try asking it to clear the bay for firing practice,' it suggested. 'Specifically, ask it to clear a space in its trapdoor coverage.'

He accepted the gun from the drone, looking disdainful. 'All right,' he said slowly. He looked about to say something else, talking into mid-air, then looked uncertain. He scratched his head, glanced at the drone and appeared to be about to talk to it, then looked away again. Finally he jabbed a finger at Skaffen-Amtiskaw. 'You… you ask for… all that. It'll sound better coming from another machine.'

'Very well. It's done,' the drone said. 'You only had to ask.'

'Hmm,' he said. He switched his suspicious look from the drone to the distant black cube. He lifted the gun and aimed at the icy mass.

He fired.

The gun rammed back against his shoulder, and a blinding flash of light threw his shadow behind him. The sound was like a grenade going off. A pencil-thin white line seared the length of the smallbay and joined the gun to the fifteen metre cube of ice, which shattered into a million fragments in a floor-thumping detonation of light and steam and a furiously blossoming cloud of black vapour.

Sma stood, her hands clasped behind her back, and watched debris fountain fifty metres to the top of the bay, where it ricocheted off the roof. More black shrapnel flew the same distance to crash into the bay's side walls… and tumbling, glittering black shards slithered across the floor towards them. Most skidded to a stop on the ridged surface of the bay, though a few small pieces — blown a long way through the air before thumping into the deck — did actually slide past the two humans and the watching drone, and clunk into the rear wall of the bay. Skaffen-Amtiskaw picked up a fist-size piece from near Sma's feet. The sound of the explosion echoed clangingly back off the walls a few times, gradually fading.

Sma felt her ears relax. 'Happy, Zakalwe?' she asked.

He blinked, then switched the gun off and turned to Sma. 'Seems to be working all right now,' he shouted.

Sma nodded. 'Mm-hmm.'

He motioned with his head. 'Let's go get a drink.' He took up the goblet, and drank as he walked towards the traveltube port.

'A drink?' Sma said, falling into step with the man and nodding at the glass he was drinking from. 'Why; what's that?'

'Nearly finished, that's what this is,' he told her, loudly. He poured a last half-glass from the metal jug into the goblet.

'Ice?' the drone offered, holding up the dripping black lump.

'No thanks.'

Something flickered in the traveltube, and a capsule was suddenly there, door rolling open. 'What's this… trapdoor coverage, anyway?' he asked the machine.

'General Systems Vehicle internal explosion protection,' the drone explained, letting the humans board the capsule first. 'Snaps anything significantly more powerful than a fart straight into hyperspace; blast, radiation; the lot.'

'Shit,' he said, disgusted. 'You mean you can let nukes off in these fuckers and they don't even notice?'

The drone wobbled. ' Theynotice; probably nobody else does.'

The man stood swaying in the capsule, watching the door roll back into place, shaking his head sorrily. 'You people just have no idea of fair play, do you?'

The last time he had been on a GSV had been ten years earlier, after he'd almost died on Fohls.

'Cheradenine?… Cheradenine?'

He heard the voice, but wasn't sure the woman was really talking to him. It was a beautiful voice. He wanted to reply to it. But he couldn't work out how to. It was very dark.

'Cheradenine?'

A very patient voice. Concerned, somehow, but a hopeful voice; a cheerful, even loving voice. He tried to remember his mother.

'Cheradenine?' the voice said again. Trying to get him to wake up. But he was awake. He tried moving his lips.

'Cheradenine… can you hear me?'

He moved his lips, exhaled at the same time, and thought he might have produced a noise. He tried to open his eyes. The darkness wavered.

'Cheradenine…?' There was a hand at his face, gently stroking his cheek. Shias! he thought for a second, then swept that memory away to where he kept all the others.

'H…' he managed. Just the start of a sound.

'Cheradenine…' the voice said, close to his ear now. 'It's Diziet here. Diziet Sma. Remember me?'

'Diz…' he succeeded in saying, after a couple of failures.

'Cheradenine?'

'Yeah…' he heard himself breathe.

'Try to open your eyes, will you?'

'Try'n…' he said. Then light came, as though it had had nothing to do with him trying to open his eyes. Things took a while to gel, but eventually he saw a restful green ceiling, illuminated from the sides by a fan-shaped glow of concealed lighting, and Diziet Sma's face looking down at him.

'Well done, Cheradenine.' She smiled at him. 'How are you feeling?'

He thought about this. 'Weird,' he said. He was thinking hard now, trying to remember how he'd got here. Was this some sort of hospital? How had he got here?

'Where is this?' he said. Might as well try the direct approach. He tried shifting his hands, but without success. Sma glanced somewhere over his head as he did so.

'The GSV Congenital Optimist You're all right… you're going to be all right.'

'If I'm all right, why can't I move my hands or fee… shit.'

Suddenly he was tied to the wooden frame again; the girl was in front of him. He opened his eyes and saw her; Sma. A misty, uncertain light glowed all around. He wrenched at his bonds, but there was no sign of give, no hope… he felt the tug on his hair, then the thudding cut of the blade, and saw the girl in the red robe looking at him from somewhere over his be-bodied head.

Everything revolved. He closed his eyes.

The moment passed. He swallowed. He took a breath and opened his eyes again; at least these things seemed to be working. Sma looked down, relieved. 'You just remembered?'

'Yeah. I just remembered.'

'You going to be okay?' She sounded serious, but still reassuring.

'I'll be all right,' he said. Then; 'it's just a scratch.'

She laughed, looked away for a bit, and when she looked to him again, she was biting her lip.

'Hey,' he said. 'Narrow one, this time, huh?' he smiled.

Sma nodded. 'You could say that. Another few seconds and you'd have suffered brain damage; another few