I entered the shooting range first. The big room was divided into a dozen lanes. Each lane had half a dozen students waiting for a chance to shoot at the classic black human silhouette targets. Sir Screams-a-lot was busy being a credit to his nickname, by shouting at a hulk of a man from mere inches away. The student was easy above the 2m height normally recommended for space service. He had to be really good to get an exception. Listening to the tirade, we all were informed how to not handle your weapon. Especially in which cases it was allowed to point your gun at a fellow student. After some repetition in quite colorful theories concerning his ancestries, the sexual tendencies of said ancestries and the number of times his mother had supposedly dropped him on his head, I could summarize. It was never allowed. Not even with a non-lethal training weapon. Not even an unloaded one. Not even to just point out a fellow student to his officer, who had asked for him.

It was recommended, quite loudly, to secure the weapon, put it away while never ever pointing it at anyone and then using your finger to indicate the exact direction.

My ears were still ringing as I approached my assigned lane and grabbed the training version of the Peacekeeper UK 20. The rifle was an eyesore with its bulky extensions, and it weighed a ton. But it packed a serious punch - there wasn't much it couldn't destroy, except for maybe a tank or an assault shuttle. It was nicknamed the „Punk“, and for good reason. It used magnetic accelerator coils to shoot iron nuggets, a type of ammunition that was not only dirt cheap, but could also be made from spare parts and on low-tech worlds.

I heaved the unwieldy thing up. I had of course taken the time to read the manual. So, while Sir-Screams-a-lots eyes started twitching, waiting for me to finish the necessary and required loading and check-up procedure, he found no reason to scream. Which seemed to frustrate him no end. I lost no time to shoulder the gun into the correct position, pressed it securely into my shoulder and fired. Controlled shots. One after the other. Since I did not break my shoulder nor got knocked over because of an incorrect stance he grunted in approval. That’s when he looked over to the end of the target range. My human silhouette target mocked me by being in pristine condition. The wall around it, much less so.

„You… missed… every… single shot? Of a whole twenty shot clip?” He didn’t find the energy to scream. Which scared me. A lot.

He sounded tired: „Get out. Just… get out. You will train every day für two hours. If you don’t manage to hit the target with every single shot of one clip, I will use your worthless body for target practice. After I dismissed your whole team from this station.”

I hastily retreated, feeling his gaze burning into my back as I left the range. He remained fixated on the target, shaking his head slowly in disappointment.

An hour later my team found me reading the gun safety handbook… for the eleventh time.

Savannah opened her mouth as if to shout… and closed it again. Then she shook her head: „How? Just… how?”

„How what?”

„How can you be such a bad shooter? Everyone else manages to hit the target at least half the time. And I mean everyone at kindergarten!”

„What was the average right now?”

Malfeasony grinned: „About 82% of shots hit the target. Not good, but at least they hit the paper enemy. Now, while everyone else is enjoying their free time for an hour, we can return to the range and find out what you did wrong.”

„Where’s Delfi?”

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Savannah answered: „She refused to leave. She’s having too much fun.”

When we returned to the range, Delfi was firing using two Punks, one in each hand. I checked the target, and almost all the hits from both weapons were grouped at the target's heart area. Malfeasony whistled, „You got an even better grouping than last time.“

Savannah looked disapproving: „It’s not recommended to use two weapons.”

Malfeasony disagreed, „It is a valid technique. It’s just, as you said, not recommended. It prohibits you from firing effectively from cover, so it’s usually only used if no cover is available, and the enemy needs to be subdued by sheer rate of fire.“

He took another coilgun from the weapons rack and handed it to me: „Now you try.”

I repeated all the checks, slightly faster than before, and then fired another magazine at the target. One shot even hit the edge of my paper nemesis. I looked around, and my friends didn't seem too impressed, but Malfeasony hadn't taken his eyes off me, „I think I see the problem.“

„Yeah? And what is my problem?“ I asked.

„You twitch. Every time you fire, you close your eyes for a split second, and your muscles contract uncontrolled. Try to relax and let the recoil happen. Don’t fight it.”

I took a deep breath and tried to follow his advice. I could feel my muscles tense up again, but this time I forced myself to let go. The gun kicked back into my shoulder, but I managed to stay upright. I fired again, and this time my shots were much closer to the center of the target.

Malfeasony nodded approvingly. „Better. Keep practicing, and try to get comfortable with the recoil. It’s an essential part of using a coilgun.”

Over the next few hours, we continued to practice. I started to get the hang of it, but it was still frustrating to miss so many shots. Delfi helped by giving me tips on how to aim and breathe properly, while Savannah reminded me to stay calm and focused.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I managed to hit the center of the target with every shot. Malfeasony looked pleased. „Good work. I think you’re ready for the next stage.”

„What’s the next stage?” I asked, feeling nervous.

„You’ll be going up against some real targets. We’ll simulate a combat situation and see how you perform under pressure.”

I swallowed hard, but I knew I had to face my fears if I wanted to be a part of this team. „Okay,” I said, steeling myself. „Let’s do it.”

And with that, we left the range and headed towards the simulator room.

The sergeant on duty told us we could have one hour on the simulator, before the next shift of training was scheduled. I thanked him and took one of the seats. I put on the neural connector helmet and waited for it to load up my already stored neural profile. After confirming the procedure, my surroundings vanished.

I was standing in an open area, my heart pounding in my chest. The simulated world around me was filled with strange vegetation and towering rock formations. In the distance, I could see the outlines of alien beasts moving about. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.

I heard Malfeasony’s voice from outside the simulation, using one of the training interfaces: „„These are random creatures space marines have encountered during their missions. They come in all shapes and sizes, and each has its own unique set of strengths and weaknesses. Your job is to take them down before they can get to you.“

Taking a deep breath, I raised my weapon, a virtual version of the Punk rifle, and approached the first target. It was a massive creature, covered in scales and sporting rows of razor-sharp teeth. I aimed at its head and fired, feeling the kick of the weapon in my hands. I missed. The creature roared and charged towards me, but I knew this was only a simulation. Before the incident, my family had their own simulation chamber, so I was used to VR adventures. I kept my cool and fired again, hitting it squarely in the chest.

I moved on to the next target, this one smaller and quicker. It darted back and forth, making it difficult to get a clean shot. I focused on my breathing, trying to steady my aim, and took the shot. It missed, and the creature let out a piercing shriek before charging at me. I fired again, this time hitting it in the leg, and it stumbled before collapsing to the ground.

As I moved from target to target, my aim improved and my confidence grew. I started to anticipate the movements of the alien beasts and adjust my aim accordingly. By the time I had taken down the last target, a massive creature that towered over me, I felt exhilarated. I had faced my fears and come out on top.

When the simulation was over, I took the neural helmet off and blinked at the light. My real eyes had adjusted to the darkness inside the helmet. When my sight had normalized, I turned to Malfeasony with a smile. „I think I'm getting the hang of this.“

Malfeasony nodded. „You're not as afraid to hurt yourself with the recoil while in the simulation. You’re doing great. With a bit more practice, you'll be ready for anything that comes your way.“