shining like the stars

38

The practice range was near the base of the ship; a long, narrow room that could be customized to the user's preference. With the power level of the bayard plasma rifle cranked down Lance could conceivably practice his marksmanship without causing any lasting damage to the ship, although Coran had reassured him at least three times that the room was shielded so that even fully-powered plasma bolts wouldn't cause any issues.

He wasn't taking any chances; 'sucked out into space through a hole the size of his fist' was not what he wanted his epitaph to be.

It was simple target practice. He wasn't the worst shot at the garrison by a wide margin, but the Altean weapon handled differently than garrison artillery. Besides, practice, practice, practice. As the seventh holographic target vanished, pinging points and accuracy metrics to his datapad, Hunk let out a low, impressed whistle.

"Seven trunk shots in a row," he said. "You should have hooked up with Keith sooner if it was gonna improve your accuracy this much."

"Eight," Lance said, as the next target popped up; true to his word the plasma bolt painted a splash of color through the middle of the scoring zone. "And Keith has nothing to do with this."

"Yeah," Hunk said, leaning forward against the barrier and resting his arms on the shelf that ran along it. "Sure it doesn't."

"Hey," Lance said, insulted. "I've been practicing."

"Yeah, you haven't set foot in the shooting range since, well," Hunk counted on his fingers in the air for a moment. "Since before that creepy abandoned planet where we got the memory core. Probably way before that, if we're being honest."

Lance took a step back, and propped one hand on his waist. "I have too been down here since then!"

"C'mon man, it's not a bad thing you're more focused." Hunk was trying not to smirk, and Lance was just more insulted.

"More... what, do you think getting laid is helping me shoot better?"

"Dude, I do not want to think about that." Hunk pulled a face. "It's bad enough knowing you and Keith are co-habitating, I do not need the details on your sex life."

Lance slapped his hand down on the barrier. "That's it, you and me. Shooting contest. Right now."

"You are aware that my bayard is like, a cannon, right? It's going to obliterate targets."

"Fuck." Lance glanced around, and pointed to the small wall lockers that ran perpendicular to the exit. "I bet there are regular blaster-plasma-whatsis in there, we'll use the same type of weapon to make it fair."

"All right," Hunk said, and Lance put his plasma rifle on the barrier. When he released it it returned to its shape as a bayard, and they both started rifling through the weaponry, looking for matching guns. "I hope you're prepared to get your ass kicked, Lance."

"We'll see about that," Lance said, and smacked the barrier again, this time triggering the computer systems for the shooting range. "Computer, load up training module five, for two players."

#

Shiro stood in front of the memory core, his hands on his hips. "I don't know," he said, and while his expression and tone of voice was level, even Keith could sense that he was nervous. "It seems like a bad idea, Pidge."

"It's for science," Pidge argued. "Look." She was standing on the other side of the memory core, a datapad in one hand. It took a moment for her to edge around the three pieces of computer machinery that had sprouted around the core like inorganic mushrooms, with a rat's nest of wires connecting the core to her equipment. Once maneuvered free, she walked right up to the memory core and put her hand on it with no hesitation.