“Yeah, the mags are a partially reconstructed uranium alloy. Nonradioactive, but still quite solid. It’s built that way to isolate the power cells in each clip from the chemical propellants in the shells.” Stephanos reached over Milla’s hand and hit the ejection button, dropping the heavy clip into his other hand. “Here, see? The clip is separated into two compartments: the first one holds the physical shells and propellant, while this smaller section contains a power cell and enough hydrocarbons to power the electromagnetic accelerators for eighty shots. Since a clip only holds sixty, it gives the soldier a nice margin of error in the field.”

Stephanos grinned. “And, off the record, it also gives us another source for energy if our equipment runs dry…And I’ve heard more than a few stories about guys using them as field expedient demolition packs.”

Milla tentatively twisted the stocky weapon around, examining it from different angles. “It is uncomfortable to hold. Our lasers are much smaller, easier to manipulate.” And they have other uses than slaughter, Milla thought to herself as she hefted the weapon.

Stephanos shrugged. “It takes a bit of getting used to, that’s all. It’s very well balanced and exceptionally accurate. It feels a bit big because it’s designed to be used by soldiers in light-power armor.”

Milla nodded as Stephanos showed her the workings of the rifle, but her attention waned rapidly as she glanced at his face. The man’s normally jovial visage was hard, chiseled, and very stern in spite of his lilting tone. Without forethought, Milla reached up a hand, almost touching his face, before Stephanos turned away. In the last glimpse she had of him, before his face moved away, Milla saw a sheen across his eyes.

“Steph?” Milla was confused for a moment; she was at a loss to understand the emotions she saw flit across his face. She took a halting step forward, her hand reaching for his shoulder.

He was looking away, and as she touched him, Stephen flinched. He finally turned back, his hand coming up to signal her to give him space for a moment. Steph took a breath before finally speaking.

“I’m all right.”

Stephanos stepped away from her, up to the control pedestal where he thumbed the simulator off. Turning, he hurried past the confused Milla and left the room, slapping the rifle into a cradle set in the wall as he went past.

Milla stared after him. Confusion and hurt swept across her face until she followed in the pilot’s footsteps and left the target range.

Captain Weston was standing at his desk, the chair pushed well out of the way and the entire top showing a holographic depiction of thousands and thousands of stars. He’d been staring at those stars for so long now he imagined he could see them without the holograph.

Weston had never had any particular interest in either astronomy or space, and here he was now, bound to study both like a drowning man seeking air. He was still poring over the images when his door chimed.