Gunfire: The Procession

In fairness to them, the shot was quite a technically demanding one. Both the origin and the destination were moving platforms, and there were wind currents between the ships that made the opening shot a coin-toss for a hit and a miss.

Once I had the hit, however, it just a matter of adjusting my aim. I was quite methodical about the matter, taking the life of man after man with a humane precision. When I ran out of men to shoot, I shot the airship itself. I severed oil lines and cables and opened steam pipes to bleed it dry.

They got the message, and turned away. I ejected the last empty shell casing in a tinkle of brass and watched their limping, smoking retreat with a cold satisfaction before lowering the weapon.

There was a presence behind me, a deliberate intrusion. I dropped the butt of the rifle to the ground, coming around with parade-ground precision complete with a quiet tap of the heels at the very end of the turn.

The captain tried to stare me down.

"Is there a problem, captain?"