Kira nods in acknowledgment. Tom Dryden, Niles’s third and longest-lasting second, will guide him through the match. Good news for Kira and Diana’s strategy.
Diana turns and leads the way to the judge’s table in silence. Kira follows, seeing more of the broad, muscular expanse of Diana’s back than the administrative area they’re approaching. Her second’s hair is grayer than when they first met, and that’s at least partly Kira’s fault. Delivering a win today will all but guarantee Diana’s place in the Guild’s Hall of Champions, and Diana’s share of the purse will underwrite her retirement from the dueling field. Surely that will make up for the times Kira straggled into work late and tried to phone it in, only to have Diana snap her back to the reality that she was preparing to face real bullets.
Maybe it’s even enough to repay her for the times Kira terrified Diana in a way the older woman could only express as anger.
They arrive at their destination. Kira stops short of the centerline and turns to face the judge’s table. Everything is in place: Diana on her left, the centerline on her right, and the combat area at her back.
Behind the table, the two wards in brick-colored body armor cradle their stun rifles with easy precision. Beside them, the EMTs look small and out of place, preservers of life in a temple dedicated to death. The judge stands over them all, aloof on his elevated bench, protected by a transparent plastic shield and the dignity of his red satin robes.
Gun belts, holsters, and dueling pistols are laid out on the table in sets, along with the bullets—one each, standing at attention, light bouncing off the polished casing. All part of the show. In her mind’s eye, Kira sees one of the steel-jacketed 9mm rounds penetrate her tunic and rip through her body, leaving shattered bones and ruined organs in its wake.
She turns to Diana for . . . what? Comfort? Reassurance? Guidance?
Her trainer responds with a small nod and another hand signal: you are ready.
Chapter 7
Kira fidgeted outside the briefing room door. The firing range portion of her evaluation had gone well. At least it looked that way. But had it gone well enough to impress Diana? The only way to know for sure was to open the briefing room door and hear what she had to say, and Kira didn’t dare—she just had to wait. She fidgeted some more. Her handset buzzed. Appointment time. She pressed the entry chime button.
A calm alto voice responded. “Come in.”
Kira entered. Diana looked up, pointed to the open seat across from the room’s tiny worktable, and tapped something into her data pad. “Sit.”
Kira perched on the edge of the chair, her back ramrod-straight and her shoulders in a knot.
At last, Diana smiled. “Congratulations, you’re no longer a new fish.”
“Thank you.” Kira’s shoulders unwound a little. Good news so far.
Diana turned her data pad’s display toward Kira. “You threw a tighter pattern than anyone in your class—a little off center, but not enough to hurt at this point.” The display changed. “Your speed just missed the top third. There’s room to improve, but that’s good enough for now. If you keep at it, you’ll have no problem with the November evaluation.”
Kira squirmed a little. “Do you think I have a shot at the Regional Cup?”
Diana looked thoughtful. “Hard to say. That’s competition with people from thirty companies in four different cities, and we don’t know anything about most of them. Besides, it’s not until graduation.”
Kira licked her lips. “Is that why they keep being vague about the cash prize?”
Diana smiled a little. “No. That’s because the Guild locals bargain for the companies’ contribution. A couple thousand one way or the other sets the tone for contract negotiations. But, it’s usually around forty thousand unis for first place, half that for second, and about ten for third.”
The calculator in Kira’s head spun. Even after taxes, that first prize could repay her signing bonus with some left over. She’d still need a job with a high enough salary to make her payments, but it wouldn’t have to be gunfighting.
Diana slapped the table, pulling Kira back to the here and now. “You’ve got other things to do in the next ten months. Don’t worry about the Cup until the quarter before graduation.” Diana’s face became more serious. “They made a deep cut this time. A fourth of your classmates won’t be here tomorrow.”
Kira’s shoulders knotted again. “Chloe?”
“I can’t tell you another trainee’s score, but you won’t have to break in a new roommate.”
“That’s good.” Kira eased back into her chair once more.
“Here’s your overall standing.” Diana adjusted the display and pointed to a line just below Kira’s rank. “Here’s the lower edge of the top fifth.” She set the pad aside. “Do you have any questions?”
Kira chewed on her cheek. She had a question, but was asking it a good idea? She’d been lucky, she’d survived the cut, and she should let it go. Thank Diana for her help, hope she’d be willing to help again, and say no more.
But if she could get Diana to exercise her prerogative as a senior instructor and become a mentor for her and Chloe . . .
Calm gray eyes watched Kira from the far side of the worktable, as if they could see the struggle going on inside Kira’s head.
Kira pulled up close to the table, put her elbows on it, and forced herself to meet Diana’s gaze. Nobody did favors for people who didn’t stick up for themselves. She tried to keep her voice casual. “Are you going to keep working with Chloe and me as your mentees?”
Diana looked as if she’d tasted something unexpected, but not unpleasant. “Why do you think that would be a good idea?”
Kira swallowed to clear the dryness in her throat. “We improved when you worked with us. I got faster and tighter. Chloe is more accurate and more consistent.” She swallowed again. “We might make good clients when you rotate off instructor duty. If we work together, maybe the AI will match us.” It sounded weak, even as she said it. Asking Diana to take them as mentees was begging for a favor, no two ways about it.
Diana sat back and contemplated Kira. “Your aim is excellent, your reflexes are good, and you focus better than anyone I’ve ever worked with. Your first day in the simulator was interesting, too.”
Kira frowned. “I died.”
Diana almost laughed. “That’s nearly inevitable.” Kira looked puzzled, and Diana leaned closer and spoke in a confidential tone. “It’s a setup. The point of the exercise is to show the people who think they know everything that they don’t know anything. So we toss you into a new environment and pit you against people at the top of their game. The ones who know firearms suffer the worst. They think growing up around weapons or owning a bunch of fancy pistols makes them better gunfighters. They don’t realize how different and artificial the dueling field is.”
Kira rolled that over in her mind. “OK, but I still died.”
Diana chuckled. “Because you scared the crap out of Sanchez.”
“What? You just said we had no chance.”
Diana took on the same calm, matter-of-fact tone she might have used to explain the basics of a good grip. “New fish are even more predictable than citizens. They fixate on the strikeline, march right down it, and then draw and turn as fast as they can. It’s never fast enough, but they think it’s all about speed, so they keep trying. The only reason everyone doesn’t die in the first round is the professionals play with it. With a real opponent and live rounds, you always go for the kill, but in this exercise, they can afford to hit people in the leg, wing them on the bicep, or put off-center shots through the abdomen just to drag it out. You can mess around when your opponent is slow, you know where they’ll be standing, and nobody is in danger.” She pointed to Kira. “But you decided to march for the far corner of the kill box. What were you thinking?”