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.

Setting her weapon aside, she turned her attention to the split barrel of the captain's gun. Bands of black metal striped its interior. "When you power on an L-Striker, the liquis extractor," he selected one of the leftover thingamajigs jumbled at Lily's side, "that's this component right here you've left out of the assembly, siphons off a bead of liquis from the inserted cartridge and magnetizes it.

"The charged liquis imitates a solid. The bead then passes through a series of increasingly powerful magnetic fields generated by these bands. Each successive field propels the liquis projectile until it ejects from the muzzle and hits your target.

"Liquis ammunition doesn't burn through natural resources on our colonized or protectorate worlds like standard metal rounds or ammunition blocks. We can also better control the damage we do with them."

"How's that?"

"Flip over your Striker."

Lily did and Vortrand pointed out two dials next to the power switch.

"Bullet density's on the left and ejection speed on the right."

"Which I would need to adjust because?"

Bemusement twitched the corner of Vortrand's mouth. "Let's say the Utori escaped his cell."

"Could Vlex do that?"

Vortrand's upper lip curled. "Not without assistance. And if it did we would want it captured, ideally, without lethal force.

"When you want to incapacitate a target, adjusting bullet density and propulsion intensity dampens the Striker's strength. Now, have you finished reassembling yours?"

Homeless L-Striker parts surrounded Lily. "Well..."

Vortrand snatched the weapon from her. "The handle's loose, the battery's chambered upside down and I'm counting fifteen extraneous components which shouldn't be extraneous." He took a breath. "Your assembly time is slow, retention of instruction faulty and your work sloppy." He thrust the weapon into her arms. "Do it again."

She performed the break down and reassembly four more times before she got it right. Every time she finished, Vortrand dressed her down. Barked criticism formed creases around her tight lips and turned her cheeks into radiators. When she put it together with no leftover parts she puffed with pride, ready to shove her success down his jerk-face throat, but then he hollered over her slowness and demanded she do the drill again. And again. And again.

Around the tenth or eleventh efficiency pass, pitching the effing gun at him seemed like a fantastic idea.

"That's enough," he said when she snapped the barrel closed. "You're becoming more proficient." He nodded his approval. "Do this drill when you wake up and before you go to bed. Get up and we'll run through marksmanship."

The praise, scant as it was, came seemingly out of nowhere. Lily didn't know what to do with herself.

"Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the turn?" Vortrand asked. "Get on your feet."

She scraped up and joined him on the activity floor. Swiping her Striker, he fitted the weapon with an odd looking liquis cylinder.

"For target practice you'll use the dummy cartridge and the voxic projection." He gestured at the stationary image of the Verakian man. "Adjust your settings and fire as normal. The simulation will intuit the effect. Turn the cartridge base clockwise for static rounds and counter-clockwise for corrosive." The captain demonstrated, turning the cartridge so it turned red then back to blue.

"What's the difference?"

"The blue, static rounds do impact damage, lethal or non-lethal. Red, corrosive rounds are highly acidic. Unless you intend to do lethal damage you would not chamber corrosive rounds. Hitting an unarmored target with a low density, low propulsion corrosive could still inflict fatal damage. You're not getting any corrosive cartridges until I'm confident you won't shoot me in the back while you're guarding it."

Why exactly would she be guarding Vortrand's back? Lily accepted the weapon without asking and the captain ushered her in front of him. With the toe of his boot he nudged her feet apart, widening her stance. Breaking their contact, she stalked forwards and spun around, hands on her hips.

"I've fired a gun before, you know. I know how to stand and hold it and everything."

A skeptical smile curved Vortrand's mouth. "Show me."

Lily planted her feet and aimed. Quiet laughter raised her hackles. She twisted her head around. "What?"

"Nothing. Go ahead."

Aiming again, Lily took a breath and—

"Your alignment's off."

The grind of her teeth squeaked over the following silence. Shoulders hunched. She shook off the comment and squeezed the trigger. The L-Striker whined and jumped in her hands. The impact registered to the left of the Verakian target in a blue, voxic burst.

"Ready to accept my help yet?" Vortand asked.

Head hung back. "Fine."

Vortrand approached. He dropped to one knee and wrapped his hands around her calf. Altering her stance, he positioned her left leg back further than she felt comfortable. When she started to shift he held her in place then rose and came in close behind her. His chest butted her back. Arms encircled her. The captain applied gentle pressure to her elbows, unlocking her limbs then lastly correcting her grip.

The captain's touch sent a shivery ripple through her he must have felt. This close, the rising thump of her heart beat against him. If he registered any of that he ignored it. He drew in close to the side of her face to judge her aim.

"Squeeze off a few rounds." A current of breath teased over the scalloped edge of Lily's ear.

A slight tremor at their proximity wavered Lily's hands. She struggled to keep her aim accurate. Vibrations from the powered on L-Striker complicated the tasks. The jittering weapon threw shots sideward and sent tingling waves coursing up her arms then down through her torso to her toes. The sensation made her hyper-aware of each place the captain's body made contact with hers and of every place it didn't. Thighs pressed together. The seam of her shorts aligned with the throbbing pulse between her legs. Unconsciously, she moved her hips back and forth.

A soft, startled sound escaped Vortrand. The sudden pressure of his hands securing her hips made Lily jump. Several haphazard shots erupted from the Striker's muzzle. They all went wide. Blue fireworks bloomed on the HOptic web surrounding the Verakian target. Slipping away, the captain assessed her accidental fire.

"Target shooting must be very different on your baseworld." A growl edged his words.

"It's not my fault this gun shakes. It's stupid."

"A weapon is never stupid. The user is either clumsy or unpracticed or both."

Lily tossed the powered down L-Striker aside. "I don't know what you expect. You're the courier," she mimed air quotes, "with the super secret military connections and mission. You're the one who should handle the fighting. Not me."

"Yet you were so eager to rush into battle on Myskuul."

"Because I knew you were coming."

"You can't expect others to fight your fights."

"You should have been on my side. They were wrong!"

"They were Verakian."

"And that makes it ok? Vlex was right. You really do think anyone who isn't Verakian is beneath you."

"A truly trustworthy opinion." Vortrand bared his fangs.

While they'd gone back and forth they'd steadily drawn closer until they were an arms-reach away. Tension arced between them. The crackling atmosphere was the same that they'd shared in the kitchen. Lily wanted that again and didn't care how she got it.

"He saved your life didn't he?" She asked, her voice too sweet.

"Enough about Vl—" Vortrand scrubbed a hand over his face. "The fucking Utori."

"Vlex," Lily exaggerated his name. She planted her fists on her hips, canting them side to side in time with her rhythmic chant. "Vlex, Vlex, Vlex."

With a tired shake of his head, Vortrand said, "Grow up," then turned.

"All woman over here."

Vortrand rounded on her. "You are a child. A child horribly out of her depth who's too stubborn to admit it's so."

"You weren't treating me like a child in the kitchen."

Stiffening, he advanced, crowding her. "You have no idea how Verakian treat their young. Maybe we hold them down and—"

The flat of Lily's hand swung out. Deflecting the blow with little effort, Vortrand caught her arm. Fingers circled her wrist, pinching delicate slivers of skin there.

"Here's another lesson for you," he said, voice fluctuating when she struggled. "Don't dole out what you can't take. You can't handle what I'd do to you."

"You have no idea what I can and can't take."

Vortrand released her, backed up a pace, and bent down, offering his cheek to her. "Then hit me."

This was a trap. This was such a trap, but she couldn't stand it.

She hovered her hand next to Vortrand's cheek. She hesitated, watching him. The captain raised his brows. Bending her wrist, Lily barely brushed him with her fingertips and he exploded into motion.

Vortrand knocked aside her hand and spun around Lily's back. An arm circled her arms and waist, trapping her. With his free hand he delivered a quick series of light, two fingered strikes to her chest. From the neck down, her muscles seized then relaxed. She went noodly and Vortrand laid her on the activity floor. Reclining beside her, he propped himself on one bent arm and rested his head in his hand.

Everything below Lily's neck paralyzed. She felt her arms and legs and torso, but her limbs wouldn't obey her brain. Vortrand's unoccupied arm unpeeled from its resting place along the length of his body. His hand floated over her belly for a cezin before it came to a gentle rest on the place where the hem of her tank top met the top of her shorts. A swatch of skin peeped from the gap between the garments. The light touch of the captain's palm teased the fine hairs dusting her stomach. A wicked shudder convulsed her belly. He smiled at the reaction. Fingers dipping beneath the hem of her tank top, he glided his hand up her naked torso and paused when his palm came between her breasts. He watched her jaw tense. She stared straight at the ceiling.

"Being powerless is awful, isn't it?" Vortrand asked. Time passed without answer. He stroked the trough splitting her chest. "That wasn't rhetorical."

"Maybe I like being powerless." Lily eked out the statement through clenched teeth. Fingers tapped against her skin.

"This is a complex game you're playing with me and I'm willing to bet you don't even know the rules."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know you'd rather fight me than accept instruction when I'm trying to help you survive this situation you're in. What I don't know is how far you'll take this." He trailed one finger down her chest and over her torso where it circled her navel. "Are you a virgin?"

"None of your business," Lily spluttered.

"I can check myself."

Vortrand's hand skated to the lip of denim below her navel. He thumbed the button closure of her fly and eased his fingers into her shorts. The copper teeth of her zipper clicked apart.

"Vortrand."

His name halted his hand. Fingertips grazed the band of her ZaZee-made panties. Heat wafted from her opened shorts and over her stomach. If the captain moved a bit further he'd be touching places no one else ever touched. His hand moved. Fear, cold and sharp, spiked Lily's gut.

"Yes! Yes, I'm a virgin."

The disagreeable twist of Vortrand's mouth quickly smoothed into nonchalance. He withdrew his hand and hovered his face over hers.

"You can't handle it," he said and when she didn't respond added, "say it."

Behind closed lips Lily ran her tongue over her top teeth. "I can't handle it."

"You're not ready."

"I'm ready to get up."

The captain shrugged. "There's nothing I can do to reverse the effects of a tertiary hold. It'll have to wear off on its own."

"How long will that take?"

"Maybe an ard."

"Are you kidding?!"

"No." Vortrand rose. "Take the time and dwell on what I hope penetrated that thick skull of yours. Goading me won't make you a better marksman or fighter. Provoking me does not equate controlling me. Don't do it again...Unless you're ready."

For the second time, Vortrand left Lily alone, agitated and aching all over. She listened to the retreat of his clomping footfalls and groaned.