"Both of you stuff it before I turn off your comms," Meg warned. Despite the stern tone, her expression remained upbeat. She showed us how to secure our helmets, a sharp hiss signaling their seal.

  HUD projections flickered to life across the inner surface of my visor, offering necessary data like oxygen levels and battery life. It would take practice to filter necessary data from flashy distractions. For now, everything enchanted me. Just on the other side of an airlock door, space beckoned.

  Meg ushered us from the staging area into the airlock. My heart began pounding once the inner door closed and she tapped the controls to depressurize the airlock. Glancing over at Ally, her terror-stricken face and wide eyes remained obvious through the glare of her faceplate.

  “Remember,” Meg said. “The magboots work the same outside the ship as they do inside. Toes first to release the lock, then slide-step and plant the heel to re-engage.” We’d practiced with the soles all week in preparation. I had found myself walking that way more and more even without the electromagnetic coils engaged. Meg reached for her large toolbox, tethering it to her suit before placing her hand on the control that would open the outer airlock door and finally reveal space in all its amazing nothingness. “Same with the gloves,” she reminded us, her voice crystal clear through everyone’s helmet speakers. “Lift your fingers first to disengage, palm pressure to engage. Are you ready?” We all flashed thumbs-up in response. "I'll go first. Just follow my lead, go slow, and most importantly, enjoy the view!"

  The inner lock cycled open and then Meg opened the outer hatch, giving us our first unimpeded view of space.. Not even stars were visible inside the HCF. Meg propelled herself through the opening with easy grace. Staring out into the total darkness I held my breath without realizing it.

  “So cool,” Tyler repeated, his voice my reminder to breathe. My spirit soared higher than our velocity as Meg showed us how to use our gloves to crawl out of the airlock. Awkward as newborns, yet no less awestruck, Tyler and I followed her out, planting our magboots on the curved patchwork hull, the entirety of it bathed in LED service lights. The angle to turn sideways was the hardest part to navigate, and Meg made sure to do it slowly for our benefit.

  Tyler followed close behind her as she made her way aft, but everything was so silent, eerie yet unbelievably peaceful—amazing beyond what I had ever expected—I stood there and stared, soaking it all in.

  “Step aside, Katzuo. I want to come out, too.”

  Ally’s voice snapped me out of it, and I scrambled, almost too fast, to get out of her way. As my right foot released, my left foot lost grip on the hull. For a brief moment, I separated completely from Head Case, floating fully in the expanse. Automated systems took over, the vectoring nozzles on my pack quickly spitting out a brief burst of compressed air to shove me back to the metal before I even thought to be afraid.

  “Noah, are you okay?” Meg asked. She had stopped and spun around, the networked suits alerting her of my total disengagement.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Nothing to worry about. Just got a little ahead of myself.” I waited for Ally before trying to move again, suddenly eager to have someone else nearby in case I messed up again. A second look in her direction revealed a total shift in her demeanor. She was all smiles now that she was outside, her eyes glittering with amazement, her grin stretching from ear-to-ear.

  “This might just make being lost in space worth it,” she said softly.

  "Enough lollygagging, space cadets," Meg finally said. "We've got shield node fuses to replace.”

  Under her guidance, we made our way along Head Case's spine toward an absence of service lights, indicating the damage we intended to repair. When we arrived, Meg tugged her toolbox to her and nimbly retrieved the palm-sized replacement from her utility pouch and pointed toward an external access panel.

  “Who wants to pull the circuit and replace the bad fuse?"

  I slide-stepped forward before Alyssa or Tyler could reply. Accessing the panel took three frustrating attempts before Meg patiently reminded me to release the safety latch first. Hot embarrassment flushed my cheeks when the panel slid aside easily on the second try. I wrestled out the damaged sensor and handed it to Meg, who pushed it into the box to feed to Asshole later. Inserting the replacement was easier than expected. The service lights activated as soon as the fuse locked into place.

  "Nicely done!" Meg praised. “I knew you could do it.”

  "Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “That’s one fuse down. Sixteen more to go.”

  “Sixteen?” Ally said, surprised by how many of the shield relays had been damaged. “How are we even still alive?”

  “It’s magic,” Tyler replied, wiggling his fingers in front of his faceplate.

  “You’ll all get plenty of chances to practice replacing the fuses. This is the most common source of external damage we deal with. And not only from being shot at. Sometimes, space junk can sneak in, or a fuse can just burn out.” She grinned behind her faceplate. “The next outage is that way. Last one there is on toilet-cleaning duty!”

  She used her pack’s vectoring nozzles to propel herself into a skipping jog down Head Case's starboard side, leaving us space babies crawling along in her wake.

  Maybe getting thrown halfway across the universe by some unknown force wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

  CHAPTER 31

  Returning to the reality of our situation after a week and a half of blissful ignorance hit us hard. We needed to learn how to shoot, and hit whatever we were shooting at.

  "Today you’re going to learn basic firearms skills," Matt said as he stood before us in the training room. A line of plasma rifles and ballistic long guns resembling AR-15s rested on a nearby table. After ten days in hyperspace, I had finally healed enough for him to move beyond less strenuous lessons in starship control, maintenance, and repair to teach us the self-defense skills we needed to survive in this hostile environment. Not that I wanted to learn to kill for real—I knew for sure Tyler didn’t—but the incident with the Pralls had proven, at least to me, that it was a skill I needed to protect the people I had come to think of as friends.

  "I know you’ve handled the plasma rifles before,” Matt continued, “and Ally even scored a solid hit on the first Warden, but it’s important that you have a full breadth of training across different firearm types and the targeting skills to make efficient use of any and all of the guns in our armory. I know you aren’t all that keen to fire at another living thing, or to be fired upon, but all things considered, it’s unfortunately a very real possibility that both may come to pass.” He motioned to the weapons. “I don’t need to go over the details of using the plasma rifles with you again.” He picked up the other rifles. “The MM-50s are more traditional projectile firearms. They fire .22 caliber rounds, similar to an M-16, but generally with a smart payload that drills into the target before detonation. I’ve loaded these rifles with gel rounds so they can mark your hits without further damaging the bulkheads. We’ll do pistol, laser, and blaster training at additional sessions, until you’ve carried, maintained, and fired every weapon in our armory. Sound good?”

  I nodded eagerly. After barely contributing last time trouble found us, I wanted to properly pull my weight. Tyler was less committed, but he still bobbed his head, ready to learn. Ally didn’t have much of an outward reaction at all.

  "We'll start with the plasma rifles since they're simpler and you’ve held them before.” He motioned to the table. “Pick one and let’s see how accurate you are.”

  We each stepped forward to claim one of the weapons before stepping back to wait for further instructions. Tyler obviously felt uncomfortable holding his, but once Matt adjusted his awkward grip, he began to handle it with more efficiency. Alyssa easily lifted hers in both hands, immediately comfortable with it.

  Matt retrieved his personal access device from his pocket, using the pad to activate an overhead projector. At the front of the room, three target outlines appeared in front of the thick metal bulkhead that showed plenty of scorching from past shooting sessions. The targets had roughly human proportions with bright red bullseyes at center mass. “Go ahead and line up. From here to the target is about thirty feet. I wish we could go longer, but obviously Head Case isn’t big enough.””.

  “How come you don’t have simulation modes for the plasma rifles at least, like you do for the pilot station?” Tyler asked once we’d lined up in a row in front of the projected targets. “They seem pretty high-tech.”

  “Because firing live ammunition gives you a better feel for how the weapons respond,” Matt replied. “It’s especially important with the MMs. Go ahead and power on your rifles.” Again, we did as he said, activating the guns. “Make sure to take your time aiming. Right now, this isn’t a race. You’ll pick up speed as you gain experience. When you’re ready to shoot, exhale as you squeeze the trigger. PRs have no recoil, so you’ll find them easier to shoot than the MMs or the RGs.”

  “RG?” I asked.

  “Railguns,” he replied. “We’ll get to those later. Right now, nothing fancy. Aim for center mass, nice and easy."

  I shouldered my plasma rifle, sighting down the barrel to the projected reticle at the end, realizing as I did that the weapon had painted a dot on the target’s center mess. I did my best to align the dot inside the reticle. I exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. A bolt of plasma erupted from the weapon. It streaked past the target, missing it by over a foot. I swallowed hard and glanced to my right, embarrassed by my pathetic aim.

  Beside me, Tyler aimed more carefully, squinting with one eye closed. He pulled his trigger after a few seconds. A bolt of plasma grazed the target's left side, nearly spearing the outer edge. Not a solid hit, but way closer than my wild shot.

  "Nice!" Matt praised.

  Alyssa turned out to be the steadiest and by far the most accurate shot. Firing after barely a pause, her bolt struck almost dead center with a satisfying sizzle. The target flashed and faded, apparently indicating a kill.

  "Hell, yeah!” Tyler shouted. “Nice going, Red.”

  Alyssa grinned, clearly pleased by her precision.

  Even Matt looked impressed. “Well done, Alyssa. I’ve got a feeling you have a knack for this.” He looked my way and then at Tyler. “Your first shot was pretty good, Tee. Once you get the fundamentals down, you’ll both get better with practice.”

  My initial embarrassment shifted to third-party pride over Ally’s nearly perfect shot. Whatever else happened, at least we were learning necessary skills. With enough time and training, we wouldn’t need to feel so powerless should we find ourselves in another situation like the one with the Pralls.

  "Again," Matt instructed, summoning a fresh target for each of us.

  Within an hour, confidence had replaced my initial awkwardness and uncertainty. While I was still the worst shot of the three of us, I had at least managed to start hitting the target with regularity, scoring plenty of shoulder and leg wounds to go with my occasional center mass hits. I had gone from questioning whether or not I could improve with practice to certainty that I could and would. Of course, Ally remained the leader in this particular challenge, even after we finally graduated to the MMs.

  Magazine after magazine vaporized the humanoid projections, putting her high atop the leaderboard. As she had explained, doing her best not to sound like she was bragging, a decade of handling PlayStation controllers had honed her fine motor reflexes and hand-eye coordination, leaving her well-suited for wielding automatic death-dealers. That explanation might have held up, except both Tyler and I had both done the same, and we were nowhere near as fast or efficient with our shots as Ally was.

  Alyssa dropped her final target with a triple tap to center mass. I didn’t know the system was keeping an actual score until it appeared where the targets had been. Hers flashed what I imagined was an impressive 12,571. Tyler managed a respectable 10,803, while I surprised myself with what I considered a serviceable 8537. As far as I was concerned, that put me well in the below-average to average range. And for today, I was happy with that.

  “Enough pew-pew for now," Matt said. "Let's move on to hand-to-hand.”

  "Now you’re in trouble, Red,” Tyler said, setting his pistol aside. “You aren’t going to make Noah-san and me look bad again, like you did with the target practice.”

  “You might be surprised,” Matt replied. “Hand-to-hand combat is more about form and technique. Brute power helps, but it isn’t the be all, end all.”

  I bit my lower lip to avoid smug commentary, recalling my years of aikido and karate under Sensei Watanabe’s instruction. I’d been throwing other kids around the mat since I was eight and had no doubt I could do the same to Tee and Ally. For now, at least, that was my stance.

  "What if they have us seriously outgunned?" Alyssa wondered aloud. “Like, say, alien warriors with four arms?”

  “If they have more arms than we do, we either run like hell or sick Shaq and Ixy on them."

  Alyssa laughed. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Why do we need to learn this stuff when we have them for backup?”

  “What if they aren’t around and you have no choice but to defend yourself?” I asked.

  “That’s what guns are for.”

  “What if you don’t have a gun?”

  “Why wouldn’t I have a gun?”

  “What if guns are prohibited on Goldhaven and you need to defend yourself?”

  Ally looked at Matt. “Are guns prohibited on Goldhaven?”

  “I have no idea,” he replied past his amused grin. “You don’t want to learn hand-to-hand?”

  “I do. It’s just that I don’t think I’ll be very good at it. Brute strength may not be everything, but I have zero.” She flexed her rail-thin arm without producing even the hint of a bicep.

  “Maybe you don’t have a lot of physical strength today,” Matt said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t in time.”

  “I really hope we aren’t stuck here long enough for me to transform into She-hulk.”

  “Me neither. But it might be worth starting strength training, anyway. I can help you get started. In private, if that makes you more comfortable.”

  Her face flushed so brightly, I thought Ally might collapse. She offered a sheepish smile. “Uh…um…sure.”

  “Great. I studied martial arts back on Earth, and I’ve picked up some additional training from a Royal Marine since then. I’ll run you through the same regimen she ran me and Ben through. Sound good?”

  “Matt, full disclosure here,” I broke in. “I have black belts in both karate and aikido.”

  “What?” Tyler said. “Since when?”

  “Since I was thirteen. I picked up a third-degree black belt in karate last year.”

  “You never told us about that,” Ally added.

  “It was never relevant before. Even Bruce Lee might have sucked at Fortnite.”

  “In that case, it’s up to you if you want to participate,” Matt said.

  “No, I’ll go through the motions. I just wanted you to know upfront so you pay more attention to Tee and Ally.”

  Matt nodded his appreciation. What followed was Self-defense 101, simple locks, strikes, and throws. We cycled through basic techniques, starting with arm bars and wrist releases against a single opponent. Even one-armed, Matt deftly foiled Alyssa and Tyler’s attempts to control him. My extra experience showed quickly, escaping his grip or putting him in peril with minimal effort. Not that I thought I could beat Matt in a real fight, but at least I was sure I could hold my own for a short while. There was still something to be said for raw power, and he had a lot, while I had little.

  After thirty minutes of drills, we finally switched to sparring. Already braced for embarrassment, Tyler insisted on being my partner. Alyssa battled invisible opponents under Matt’s watchful eye. She threw her wild, ineffective punches with more enthusiasm than ability.

  "Keep tension here and here," Matt reminded her, adjusting her wrist and shoulders. "You don't want to hyper-extend the joint or pull a muscle."

  Tyler faced me wearing his trademark impish grin, wiggling his fingers in invitation. "Shall we dance?"

  I dipped into a ready stance. "Whenever you're ready."

  He rushed me immediately, faking left before throwing a sloppy right cross. I pivoted from the obvious strike, seizing his overextended wrist and yanking down while sweeping his leg. He slammed flat on his back with a startled grunt, wincing when my knuckles pressed warningly against his windpipe.

  "Um...ow?"

  I rolled away, letting him rise. He bounced back to his feet, and we went again, with the same result. He let me send him to the mat a few more times before tapping out. By then, Matt had gotten Ally throwing quick jabs with a semblance of technique. Seeing we had stopped, he glanced over at me. “Noah, you look bored.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I replied.

  “I’m not much of an opponent,” Tyler said. “You were right. All this beautiful beefcake is ineffective against the flying tomato over here.”

  “Flying tomato?” I said, grinning.

  He laughed and shrugged. “First thing I thought of, man.”

  “Ally, Tee, why don’t you two take a breather?”

  “Gladly,” Alyssa replied. She was the sweatiest among us, though she seemed to be having a blast.

  “Have you ever seen the Matrix?” Matt asked me.

  "Who hasn't?" I replied, doing my best Neo impersonation. “I know kung-fu.”

  “Show me,” Matt added. He dropped into a fighting stance, turning his hand and waving me toward him, just like in the movie.

  I dropped into my own stance with a huge grin on my face. I didn’t care if I won or lost.

  I don’t think I had ever been happier in my life.

  CHAPTER 32

  I wouldn’t have known Head Case had dropped out of hyperspace if it weren’t for the changing view outside, which shifted from all black to nearly all white. At first, curving like we were looking out at infinite space from inside a fishbowl, the stars began separating before finally settling into pinpricks of light against the endless black. My body lagging behind my brain, the physical effects of the disorientation didn’t hit me until we were at sub-light speed for nearly ten seconds. I closed my eyes, tightening my grip on the armrests of the co-pilot's seat while the sudden bout of nausea and dizziness passed. Behind me in the command chair, I could hear Ben tapping on his control surface, likely checking the initial sensor readings as the data started pouring in.