"Unfortunately, we don't have the firepower or numbers to do that. Nor the time to acquire them." I said, popping some beef into my mouth and chewing casually. The sorcerer and his followers had a definitive headstart, and I was loathe to wait even for these reinforcements. A few hundred aristocratic honorguard, astra militarum reserves, and PDF volunteers would have to do. In all, there was about three hundred and eighty seven men, not including the Inquisitors and their retinues. Depending on where we would land and search, that was pitifully little. "He's a week ahead of us. The best we can do is look for him and make sure he doesn't leave orbit without being destroyed or pursued."

Lazarus approached from behind, and I heard it as a fox heard the small thumps of a rabbit. Or perhaps the roles were reversed, in this case. 

"The shuttle has been acceptably modified as per your request, Hadrian," Lazarus said through his vox speaker. I, childishly, mouthed every word he said in a manner I could only say was exaggerated. Lazarus always said the same thing when he was done with his chores on the shuttle, and usually he said something similar on different items of equipment. I saw Emmaline looking my way and I tried to hide a smile at my own unprofessionalism, but I failed spectacularly. 

"Very good, Laz. Once we make it back to Pacitus we'll fix it up together. Have you finished the other tasks I wished for?" 

"I calculate I am seventy percent finished. But, if I am correct, you seem not to have finished your Emmaline goal."

I nearly spat out my food, but thank the throne I was able to hold it in. I looked at Lazarus, and yet again his face was neutral. I could tell he was trying to get a rise out of me, however. At my look, he elaborated. "You gave me your schedule for the day. Combat training for our newest recruit, was it not?" 

"Yes, but that was for later. We're merely eating, now." I said, but I regretted it. Lazarus gave a bow and began walking away, saying 'when was the last time you let anyone else take a break?' and I kept myself from getting up and having it out just here and there. I knew for certain this time he was being difficult. There was little to do on this ship but wait for arrival as it was. I merely got Lazarus to fix the shuttle to keep him busy. But perhaps something to focus on would help Emmaline get through the day. 

"Well, seeing as if we've just eaten and you're dressed for only one of the two, let's focus on guns instead of close combat for today, shall we?" 

We finished our food and drink, and made our way down to the bow of the ship, where Urien and crew had set up a 50 meter shooting range that was used for cargo space when I did not require their services. Fully sixty meters long and twenty meters high, the floor was steel and had been meticulously painted to mark distance. Fiber-polymer dummies had been arrayed at 25 meters to the full 50 meter mark, and on the table under plexi-glass were varying guns. Auto and Las pistols, rifles, carbines, and even a plasma pistol. Though it had very limited ammo. 

I took an autogun, and went through the basics of how to operate one. I knew she had some familiarity, but it never hurt to be careful with lethal weapons. Once that was finished... 

"Stand feet slightly further apart than shoulder width. Make sure you're comfortable. Lean forward slightly to account for recoil, hold the grip hard, but not so hard you're shaking. Hold the grip in your right hand, and use your left hand to steady. Use your left eye to aim down the sight, and pull the trigger as you exhale with controlled, easy breathing." I said, demonstrating every word, before handing her the gun and standing to the side. 

She took it gingerly, clearly having heard my autogun and had some trepidation on handling one. Mirroring my stance, her elbow a bit low and her stance a bit nervous, she still did not do terrible. She hit three out of five targets near center mass at 25 meters, and managed to snag one at 50 meters. The gunshots were loud, but we got used to them quickly. Only on her seventh shot did she accidentally pull the trigger when not aiming entirely in the right direction, squawking like a bird and dropping the gun as the bullet ricocheted and thankfully fell harmlessly 11 meters away. 

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I got her a laspistol. "Let's try one without recoil," I said. As the minutes went by, I showed her a few of the other guns and explained the plasma pistol, which she seemed interested in until I told her there was a 5% chance it could explode and immolate your body in seconds and it was a hard pass from her. I had to admit that despite her lack of experience, seeing her hold a gun in that dress was compelling. 

"Very good," I said, stepping toward her position on the range. "Better than I expected." 

She blew imaginary smoke out of the laspistol barrel. "Easy enough." 

I smirked, a twinkle in my eye. "Really? It takes more than an afternoon to be a sharpshooter. But as you're so sure, let's make it more interesting. Five shots, each of us. Our gun of choice. Whoever hits the most wins the wager." 

"What are we betting on?" 

"Let's decide that after the fact, shall we?"