The target was a good hundred yards away. Petronio’s left hand felt sweaty on the trigger. He focused his eyes and pulled. Even though he knew from experience that the gun was whisper quiet, he wasn’t ready for the destruction it wrought. Branches to left and right splintered and cracked. He put the g-gun down as he’d been instructed, clicking the safety catch back on, and sauntered over to check his target. Despite the chaos around it, the acorn still swung in the breeze, taunting him.

“Thought so!” sneered the soldier, coming up behind him. “What does she see in some dumb bunch of DNA from out of town?”

He didn’t understand the meaning of the insult, but the man’s tone was clear. Petronio had a thin blade concealed in his belt. One flick of his hands, and the jeers would be cut short. “Give me a chance!” he said.

The man showed Petronio the balance of the weapon, how to account for wind and trajectories. By the time dusk came on, the acorn still hung like a tempting green jewel, and Petronio had taught his trainer every Dendran swear word in the twigtionary.

“One more go?” he asked.

“G-bullets don’t grow on trees.”

“You don’t say!” Petronio hissed as he took aim. It was all about the calm before the storm, the emptying of the mind, total concentration. The target would be obliterated. All he had to have was faith. Even before his finger depressed the trigger, Petronio felt a fierce joy flood like sap through his veins. He knew, and because he knew, as the shot rang out, the acorn gave up its ghost, splintered into pulpy smithereens.

“Decent shot,” the soldier said grudgingly. “The name’s Heckler.”

“Grasp. Petronio.”

“Not sure if I can shake your hand, seeing as my colleague will be hobbling for months thanks to your little shin kick.”

Petronio smiled but felt lost when the gun was taken off him. To think what he could do with one of these beauts in his possession!

“You have progressed,” Fenestra said to him later, as she came to sit by his bed. “Heckler thinks you have the makings of a marksman.”

Petronio tried to hide the blush on his face. “It’s amazing what guns can do.”

“Yes, but a machine is only as good as the hands that guide it. I am sure there will be work for you when our plans are fulfilled. How is your chest?”

“Fine.” If he admitted how much it hurt, she wouldn’t let him continue training.

“You still need your rest. There is one further task for you to carry out.” With that promise, she put out the light in the cot-bed, deep in the bowels of the flypod.