Gunfire: The Warning

It wasn't Neptune who found us first, though.

A pirate craft dropped down on us a few days later, plummeting from a heavy cloud bank where it had been lying in wait. It arrested its fall neatly and elegantly off our starboard side, heliographs stuttering demands.

I joined the crew at the side rails, reading the message straight off the flashing light with a practiced eye.

"Why are we not opening fire?" I enquired of the man next to me, who snorted.

"There's not a cannon or gun that'll reach that distance, and they know it."

I didn't bother with an answer, grabbing the rifle and a pocketful of gleaming bullets from our cabin. Ryle looked up and grinned.

"Give them hell for me."

I gave him a thin smile back, climbing back up the stairs. Balancing the long weapon against the rail, I brought the stock into my shoulder and breathed out.

Out of range, I sneered contemptuously. The wrong type of thinking.

Warning shots are a waste of ammunition. My first bullet took the head off their helmsman.