MEANWHILE IN ITALY
A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.
Thanks to Kiskaloo for the loan of Kara and Michele, and theprodigalson for Anastasia, all mentioned herein.
CH16 – Fleeting Horizons
Fuming, Danilo pushed his way through glass cyborg dormitory doors, glancing down at the small hexagonal tin held in one gloved hand and squeezing it harder, as if the crushing force would somehow ease his irritation.
As weeks went this last had not begun brilliantly, with him being called to Jean's office and dragged over the coals for his charge not being properly buckled down on her way to Rome. The experience was not one he took much enjoyment from but, while unpleasant, it could admittedly have been far worse. That small mercy was one to be glad of and, as the days rolled by with nothing else said, he had started to believe the matter ended, at least at an official level. It was almost enough to get him to relax, so another message bearing instructions to report to the Field Commander's office for a second interview had been not at all welcome.
And this time, he was to bring his cyborg.
Taking a left turn, he started up the building's carpeted stairs.
"Report to the office"... like a schoolboy caught sneaking in late for class.
Someone must have talked, but who? The SRT arsehole had certainly made it clear he wouldn't mind watching Danilo squirm, or would Manfredi have turned him in?
Reaching the landing he glanced again at the tin. Frankly he didn't have any good reason to give C. Raych her watch yet and, were it really Manfredi ratting out his cyborg's malfunction, even less now. There was no point trying to appease the man, get him off his back, had he already dropped the hammer.
Another landing passed by.
But why would someone squander an advantage like that? Only an idiot would do so, because for now, Danilo was in his pocket.
Either way, he may as well hand the watch over, buy some breathing space and let those of Manfredi, Hartmann and Pagani's type know he was playing by their rules. At least, were he to be served a reprimand, the elder Croce seemed to realise that cyborgs were weapons despite how his underlings might waver. Who knew, there may even be some sympathy to be courted there. A workman, after all, could not be blamed if his tools malfunctioned.
Still, a little insurance couldn't hurt.
Reaching the dorm's upper level, Danilo turned down its corridor, just in time to see the flash of colour as one of those stored here disappeared into her room, feet silent on thick carpet
One of the red heads, not his problem.
At least she was where she was supposed to be, rather than cluttering up the staff areas. It was bad enough he had to put up with the glasses-wearing gen one in and out of the handlers' accommodation, but the Blacker girl... cyborg... had joined in too since arriving. The gen one had been explained to him, and even if he didn't agree with the reasoning an explanation was an explanation, but what the othercould possibly need there so late at night he did not wish to contemplate.
If no-one else would, he could at least ensure his unit remained where she was supposed to.
Counting off doors, he knocked at that which he wanted and pushed it open. Seemingly C. Raych had been sitting at her desk, facing the stuffed dog Pagani had given her over a slender book. As he entered however, the cyborg leapt up, brushing the volume closed and spinning toward her handler.
"Good morning, Danilo."
"Good morning."
Walking across the space he halted before her, glancing past one ear to get a better view at what she had been reading. It was a comic, L'isola Nera, and he leaned closer, causing his charge to shift guiltily. A castle crested island decorated its cover, foregrounded by a boat, complete with kilt wearing Scotsman and, he glanced to the stuffed toy then back down again, a dog very similar to Pagani's gift.
He hopped that had not been intentional.
"Umm... Chiara loaned it to me."
Kids' stuff then, and right now he frustratingly couldn't say anything either.
"Hmph." Danilo stepped back. "Well let me give you something better to do with your time."
Producing the tin, he placed it on her desk with a click.
"This is for you..." he paused, trying to force the next words into position. They were undeserved, but if he was going to do this, he had to do the whole thing, and the rest of the sentence ground its way out, "...for your hard work, up until now."
Before him, C. Raych glanced uncertainly down. "Umm... are you..."
"Don't question..." he caught himself, "...it's yours, open it."
Eyes suddenly lighting up, she lifted the container, wrenching its lid off to reveal the lump of metal and plastic facing up from atop foam padding inside.
"That's a Casio G-Shock Rangeman. It's very good and very expensive, so don't break it."
"Thank you... Danilo." The words were quiet.
"Read the instructions and learn how to use it, it will help you do your job better," he glanced at his own watch, "but do it later. I have an appointment with Jean, you're coming too, and then we will go directly to the range, so bring your pistol and meet me downstairs."
"Yes, Danilo! Thank you Danilo!" The words were brighter now, faster, a flood barely restrained, and C. Raych's face burst into a huge smile. "Thank you!"
"If you want to thank me then hurry up..." he paused again, having the watch on display couldn't hurt either, "...and put that on too."
"Yes Danilo! I will!"
"I will be downstairs in the car."
Not waiting for a reply he walked out, turning back toward the entrance. At least he had managed to impress upon her that the watch was tool, work related, rather than singing Manfredi's tune like a good little parrot. Still, the smallest things seemed to make that girl happy. Hers was a simple mind, this might be easier than expected.
He had barely reached ground level when the stairs above resounded under a thundering rush of feet, and C. Raych pulled up at his side, pistol case in one hand and watch clutched limply in the other. Danilo paused, glancing at his charge: that had been fast, and he ran a quick eye over her to ensure nothing had been left behind in her haste.
Not finding any fault, he turned back toward the doors. "Come on."
"Umm, Danilo?"
Another stop.
"Yes?"
"Umm... can you show me how to put this on?"
Rounding again, he found C. Raych holding out her watch.
Of course she would need showing.
"Give it here."
Removing the time piece from her fingers, he lifted it up.
"Hold out your left hand."
Bending over slightly, the handler wrapped the Casio's plastic strap around an obediently presented wrist, talking through how to use its clasp. Of course she would need instructing, showing how to do things. She was a cyborg, and as much as he was loath to admit it, he had become sloppy in providing that information. She was a cyborg, and if he was to expect her to be effective, she needed explicit, detailed, instruction... and constant checking on.
Watch in place he stood again, holding out a hand. "Give me your pistol case."
It too was duly presented and opened wide for inspection. When she was new, he had told her everything she needed to know, been detailed in his orders and, while C. Raych had been slow on the uptake, she had displayed none of the problems surfacing of late.
Well, he had paid the price and learned his lesson, it was just infuriating a return to form had to come as he was forced to act by someone else's rule book.
The case snapped shut again. "Good, come on."
Marching out the door into cold morning air, Danilo led his cyborg to the car, packing her into its rear seat before taking up behind the steering wheel.
And speaking of explicit instructions, now would be a good time for some.
Pulling the selector lever into 'drive', he disengaged the Lexus's handbrake and squeezed on a little power, sending it humming quietly through a half circle, crunching gravel beneath winter tyres almost drowning out the electric motor.
Back on the straight ahead, he glanced in the rear view mirror at his charge.
"Now, pay attention C. Raych. I am going to see Commander Croce, which means you will be going through the handler and staff offices. These are areas for adults only, not cyborgs, you do not visit them without me present. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Danilo."
"Good. While we are there, you do not speak unless spoken to, you stay one pace behind and to the right of me at all times, and do not go into private areas. You do not follow me into Jean's office unless I say otherwise, you stand outside and wait. Understood?"
"Yes, Danilo."
"Repeat it back to me."
"Umm... I am not to visit the offices, or any adult area, without you present. When we are there I do not speak unless spoken to and... umm... I stay one pace behind and to the right of you, I stay out of private areas and I wait for you outside Mr. Croce's office." The last words came out quickly, brightly, as spoken by someone happy and proud to make it to the end.
"Good, well done."
Tall stone walls had closed again on the road's flank, but they now broke briefly, allowing Danilo to nose his car through a high arch and into the administration block's main courtyard, the space beyond already mostly full. The Agency's alleged intelligence gurus had yet to turn up any fallout from the sniper chase, meaning cyborgs and their overseers alike remained stuck onsite, grounded fratelli's transport overflowing here and the side park.
Swinging into a free slot, the handler ordered his charge out, before making his own exit and turning to the courtyard's shaded asphalt expanse, where he paused.
No, not every cyborg was being confined to campus.
On the yard's far side, just where light from the first clear sky in days started to touch car rooftops, stood the damned Blacker girl, waiting idly by while her handler rummaged for something between their dark grey estate's open boot and sun-drenched stonework behind: just the people he had not wanted to see. Small mercies though, at least the senior partner remained hidden and wouldn't bear witness to him dragging C. Raych inside.
From the direction of main office doors sounded a creak and clack of heavy wood swinging shut, and he watched the new figure which appeared, a younger man in tweed, patches and glasses, hurry toward the waiting pair. Halting before Monty he passed something over, hands moving rapidly in explanation to the girl... cyborg... and Danilo's expression darkened: that desk driver should be talking to his opposite's handler.
As if on cue, Blacker emerged from the car's shadow, looking curiously along one gleaming metal flank before closing its tailgate and moving to join the conversation. Coming up behind his charge, the suited Englishman wrapped arms around her, hands folding just below small breasts to draw her back against himself.
Their companion didn't even appear to slow down.
From the direction of his own cyborg came a quiet shuffling, which went ignored. Just what exactly was the man thinking doing that? It was a poor display, and their attendant staffer had not reacted either, as if...
...in her partner's grasp, Monty's head moved, and Danilo froze.
He had been staring, hadn't he? Even with the girl's eyes shaded by a tall cap and concealed behind dark glasses, he knew he had been caught. He hadn't even realised he was staring, and involuntarily his gaze shifted away.
Damn, and now he had flinched.
Continuing the movement as cover, he looked toward C. Raych, now closer than she had been: another good reason to get moving, before she picked up any ideas.
"Come on C. Raych," his voice was a growl, "don't fall behind."
One last glance across the courtyard, and Danilo stomped away toward stone entry steps, cyborg trailing in his wake.
Despite their heft, solid timber doors swung easily under his touch, and the bald handler turned for internal stairs, removing sunglasses as he went. Just what the hell was Blacker thinking? Perhaps his girl was different, which seemed to be the general opinion, and even he, Danilo, was verging on the belief there was something strange about that one. Still though... he glanced backward to find C. Raych exactly where she should be... different or not, those types of actions set a bad example for everyone else, especially when they came from an ostensibly senior fratello. Fortunately the man was off campus most of the time, and who could stop him doing as he pleased out there, but both he and his cyborg could stand to fit in bit more here. When in Rome, do as the Romans.
Two storeys up he turned along the building's length, and only then did he realise his mistake. Jean's office lay toward the administration block's next internal courtyard and, had he not been so distracted by Blacker's behaviour, he would have made the walk at ground level. Force of habit however had brought him here, to the handlers' workspace, and now its glassed partition stretched away into the distance. The room beyond was busy too, filled with those now barred from field duties, and behind transparent glazing heads turned to study the new arrivals.
Too late, no going back.
With an effort he pulled his own gaze back to the straight ahead, one foot swinging forward to begin the long journey. The room was full, and everyone would know where he was headed, would see the cyborg trailing in his wake. Did they know Raych was underperforming? They had to didn't they? But they shouldn't, he was always very careful her performances were not displayed, or had whoever squealed to Jean also spread their knowledge to everyone else? His gait was stiff, unnatural, he knew it, but for the life of him he could not seem to smooth it out and, to make matters worse, those watching were bound to notice his attempts to do so. He was going to see Jean, with an underperforming cyborg, and obviously didn't want to go. It was a walk of shame, a message to all that he could not keep up... would they think this the end for the Olivetti fratello? It would certainly make sense: bring his cyborg along so they could take her off him straight away, keep her safe from a disgruntled ex-employee.
After what seemed an aeon, Danilo finally reached the partition's far end, almost running toward the next set of stairs. Just what the hell did Jean want from him anyway? Would it be a reprimand? It had to be. Even if it wasn't, everyone had seen his passage, and that was almost worse.
The hallway a floor above was narrower, running down the wing's centreline with doors on either flank, and he moved to the last from its end.
Halting, the ex-Guardia commando twisted back to C. Raych. "Stand against the wall and wait here."
"Yes, Danilo."
Resisting the urge to take a deep breath, he knocked.
There was half a second's pause.
"Enter."
Letting himself in, Danilo sealed the room again, before moving to stand before his superior's desk.
"You wanted to see me, Jean?"
It was a busy desk, short stacks of paper neatly arranged along the outward facing lip, overflowing across shelves to rest amongst archive boxes and military keepsakes. Presently, the blonde man seated behind it looked up, before gesturing to one of two visitors' chairs.
"Yes, take a seat Olivetti."
Doing as instructed and finding an uncomfortable, but unfortunately now permanent, position for this meeting, he waited while the field commander studied him over the tops of rolling paper foothills, silhouetted against half-closed Venetian blinds.
For an organisation so technologically advanced, everything else the SWA did seemed to be incredibly old fashioned.
"I'm sure you have other places to be, so I won't keep you long." Jean's voice finally broke the silence. "The Padan intelligence operation around Anasetti formed part of a growing shift in the FRF's apparent strategy. In order to meet that shift effectively, we are having to rethink how we operate, and what capabilities are most useful to us."
Danilo's heart skipped a beat. Was this it then? He was out of a job? But what would they do with Raych? It would be easy enough to recondition her he guessed but...
"As a result, a number of fratelli are being slated for a potential role change and, since you're the newest and most recently worked up, your fratello is top of the list: namely to move into a sniper/counter sniper specialisation. Training and testing starts in a week, you will be emailed specifics, but for now find Raych a sniper rifle and get her familiar with it."
Icy tendrils which had gripped the handler's heart melted as quickly as they had formed, only to be replaced by another uncertainty. Sniping, that was not his forte.
"With all due respect," the words were out before he realised they had been uttered, "C. Raych wasn't built to be a sniper."
"Neither were any of the other cyborgs we've slated for a change."
"She was built as an assaulter, for close quarters combat, and that's the role you brought me in to train her for."
"A role which is becoming increasingly redundant." The retort was hard edged. "Your fratello was created to replace the generation ones, but they were commissioned a long time ago, Olivetti. The battlefield is changing, and we, you, have to change with it."
Danilo ground his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was sit looking through a spotter's scope all day, not to mention he would essentially be coming in as a rookie once more.
"I don't have a lot of sniper experience. That was not part of what I was hired for."
"Again, it wasn't what we hired anyone set to switch for. Fortunately we have other good snipers to help expand your fratello's skill base. Group training and testing start in a week with Fio, so get over it. Any questions?"
Group training. That was the last thing he wanted. C. Raych was a fuckup, he had a hard enough time keeping her on track when solo, let alone with others around... and with others around to see her failures.
"No, sir."
Standing in the empty hall, back to its wall, Raych looked down at her feet, straining to hear what was being said inside Mr. Croce's office. She did not know why she was here, why Danilo had to see Mr. Croce. Was Danilo in trouble? Was it something she had done? She hoped it was not something she had done. For the umpteenth time her right hand moved to rest on the chunky lump of metal and plastic affixed to her opposite wrist, and a small smile split her lips. No, it couldn't have been anything she had done, nothing bad at least, otherwise Danilo would not have given her such a gift.
Lifting her arm up, she studied the watch again: black, four LED readouts with four small buttons around its edges, and one larger one on the right hand side protected by more plastic jutting out toward her hand. All of it had to do something, she just didn't know what yet. Danilo had told her to study how to use it, and she would, she wanted to. It was a good watch, an expensive one, Danilo had said so... surely not Monty or even Kara would have something like this.
But... if she were not in trouble, and Danilo was happy, why were they here?
Arms dropping once more, Raych concentrated again on trying to discern what was going on inside. She could make out voices, but they were muffled to the point of illegibility, worse even than that faint conversation she had heard in the car park. There she had managed at least to catch the occasional word spoken between Monty, Mr. Blacker and the other man with them... not that she had understood any of it, but it sounded important. They had all looked very serious.
Of course it would be important, and urgent. Plus the man had come from this building, the adults' building: she had seen the handlers' offices as she trailed behind Danilo, all high ceilings and busy people, going about their jobs under the light from tall windows. That was where Monty worked too, Kara had said she sat across from Mr. Pagani, a position in a world not for cyborgs, and treated accordingly...
...But she had not been there this time; she had been outside, in the cold. Were Monty and Mr. Blacker leaving again? Travelling away from the Agency, away from Italy? Mr. Blacker had seemed to be packing, and Monty had changed again too, slipping farther from the picture of 'cyborg' presented by her resident sisters. Raych had thought her pretty at the hospital, and more-so at the range, fully dressed and no longer clasped by ward sheets, more spy and less patient. This time however, in white boots, white coat, cap and sunglasses, picked out by clear rays of sunlight against the shaded car park, she had seemed like something else entirely, impossibly exotic and glamorous at her handler's side, almost alien: like one of the photos in Kara's magazines or illustrations from Chiara's comics come to life, to be held in bright contrast against the SWA's much duller reality.
From a world not ours.
Raych fingered the watch again. She knew what she had to do for Danilo, what would make him happy, but she now also knew what Kara had meant when she referred to Monty as aspirational. Hers was a world out of reach, an unreal dream that should not exist, and one that she, Raych, and so many others could only ever hope to brush against the edges of at best. But that didn't mean she could not imagine that world, escape to it in her mind, aspire to be there and maybe, just maybe, let a little of its magic, glamour and adventure somehow touch her own life.
Just like the comics, and magazine photos.
From beside her came the click of a latch, and Mr. Croce's door swung open, bringing her train of thought to a screeching halt as Danilo emerged.
Closing the office again, he looked down.
"Come on, you're going back to the dorm..." Raych's heard skipped a beat. "...Jean's given me other things to do today, so training is cancelled."
The sudden thundering in her chest subsided. The day cut short was not her fault, she had not done anything wrong. That had been her worry, but now Danilo was turning back the way they had come without another word.
Nothing wrong.
It was a different route they returned through, all the way to ground to walk along the building's length, emerging into a slightly emptier courtyard: Monty, Mr. Blacker, their companion and the grey estate now gone.
So Monty had been leaving.
Sliding into her own handler's car at his bidding, Raych felt like another weight had been added to her shoulders. She would not be spending the day with Danilo after all, and her look into a different world was over, the Agency it left behind somehow a little less exciting.
She would not be spending the day with Danilo.
Mr. Croce had given Danilo orders, and he had to follow orders when they came from Mr. Croce, whether he wanted to or not.
But that did not leave her feeling any less abandoned.
As her handler pulled back out in front of the administration block, another small smile cracked her lips. At least though the change of plans was not her fault, not the result of something she had done, and it would be nice to have a day free. It had been a busy week, training all days, a rest would be nice but... but she should be training, she should be with Danilo, she had to get better for Danilo: just do what he said, follow his instructions, and do not to think.
Wandering fingers again found the lumpen G-shock at her wrist. Danilo had told her to learn how to use it, that was what she would do today. Read the instructions and learn so, even if she were not directly with Danilo, she would still be training for him.
That was what she would do.
The trip from office to cyborg dorm was only a short one and, as her handler's car whined to a halt, it was to find the space in front of the latter already occupied by a large estate. Raych looked closer. No, it was not Mr. Blacker's, so which handler did it belong to, or was it a staff car?
From the front seat Danilo spoke, once more interrupting her thoughts. "We will be training again tomorrow, so be ready for me here at five am sharp. Your watch has an alarm, learn to use that first."
"Yes Danilo."
She would too, first thing when she got to her room, learn how to set her new alarm. Her fingers ran again over the odd plastic shape: she could stop borrowing Kara's clock now.
"Out."
Danilo's voice jerked her back to the present and she scrambled from her seat, just about falling through the door in haste. Only once she was walking between the colonnade's frozen pillars did she dare look back, just in time to see her handler swing around the larger vehicle parked before him and accelerate away. There was someone in the other car too, their face however obscured by the roof...
Thinking no more of it, Raych headed for the dorm entrance.
Check the notice board on her way in, a new reminder added from Ferro to not leave washing in the machines, and push open the doors to feel blessed warmth from inside catch her in its embrace.
Turning toward the stair, a movement farther along rows of generation one rooms caught her eye, and she swung back to find Chiara approaching down the corridor's length, a towel bundled under one arm.
"Good morning, Raych."
"Hello, Chiara." Her eyes flicked down involuntarily as she said it, staring at the ground as the younger girl halted, hair still damp from the showers and, on closer inspection, a corner of clothing peeking from her burden's folds. Was it not a bit early to already be changing outfits?
"Gaetano and I arrived back half an hour ago, we were in the van both days of the sniper hunt, so we still get sent on missions."
So that was it: Chiara had just come back from somewhere, she had been on a mission... but she, Raych, had also been in the van both days, she should be as safe as Chiara, should she not? Why did Chiara get missions now and she not? Chiara had been given a mission, Monty was heading out again, she had been told all cyborgs were to remain on campus. Was it that she was still just...
"It is unusual to see you here at this time of day," her smaller sister's voice cut through the thoughts, "aren't you normally at training?"
"Yes, normally I am, but Mr. Croce gave Danilo something else to do."
There was a pause.
"Mr. Olivetti had a meeting with Jean?"
"Yes."
Another pause, and her companion looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you are part of the re-stream, the retraining..."
Retraining, she did not like the sound of that.
"Re-stream?"
"Some of the existing fratelli are being tried at different roles."
But... she had only just learned her current role. If it changed, she would have to learn again, disappoint Danilo again. She did not want to do that. Why would Mr. Croce change what she was supposed to do?
"Why would they..."
Chiara shrugged. "I do not know why, I just know what Gaetano has told me. Anastasia, Fleccia and Gattonero are also all part of it, and their handlers all had meetings with Jean before they found out. You would make four so far."
"If you don't want to go, I'll swap."
The new voice's intrusion into their conversation caused Raych to jump, and she looked up to find Triela paused behind her original companion, shotgun's protective bag slung over one shoulder and a small suitcase in the other hand.
Taking it all in, the generation two returned her gaze to the other's face. "You are going somewhere?"
That got a thin smile. "Yes, again, Hilshire wants to chase an Anasetti lead to Genoa."
"A who lead?"
"The Roman Sniper." Chiara's voice was matter of fact.
"We've only got basic descriptors: leather jacket, fancy sunglasses, but we're going anyway, so I might be a few days," the blonde's eyes swept quickly over Raych to settle on her younger companion, "help Claes hold down the fort while I'm out, and have a good weekend."
With that she was gone, through glass doors and headed toward the waiting car.
It must be Mr. Hilshire's then.
"I haven't heard of any generation ones being sent to the re-stream." Chiara too was looking after their senior, and her next words were softer. "Perhaps we do not have enough life left to be worth including."
Standing amongst the tight packed collection of rifles, pistols, carbines, submachine guns and so much more housed behind the armoury's steel doors, Danilo looked with distaste at what was presented before him on a scarred wooden table. The rifle set there was black: black butt, black grip, black receiver, black flash hider, black scope and a black bipod attached under a black handguard.
The colour he could at least work with, pity the thing was an antique.
"Is this really all you have?"
Across the table's pitted surface an armoury clerk, the same who had issued his pistol, nodded. "'Fraid so. If you want a semi-automatic sniper rifle immediately, this is it. Otherwise you'll need to put in a req so we can order something else in, which will take time, or convince another person to give you a loan of their own gear. Don't worry though, the MSG90 has served the Carabinieri just fine for years."
All he got in reply was a low grumble and, switching focus from the man, Danilo's eyes scanned the racks behind him, taking in rows of weaponry stashed behind padlocked gates. All uniform, all old… but this was where issue equipment was kept, not individual firearms.
Surely there had to be better options held by others… not that it did him, personally, any good.
Eyes dropping again to the presented rifle, he gave it a disdainful prod. His companion had been correct in one respect: this was at least a semi-automatic, so not a complete dinosaur.
"Of course, if you were willing to go with a bolt gun, then you would have at least a few more choices."
"Bolt actions have no place on the modern battlefield..." the reply had come out harsher than he intended, but too late now, "...for that matter, neither do mag-forward designs."
"Hey if it ain't broken..."
"I would say a weapon entirely surpassed technologically is broken, or at least as good as, it has become irrelevant."
There was a pause, the clerk looking as if he wanted to say more, but seemingly he restrained himself. "So, do you want it or not?"
Lifting the rifle up, Danilo flipped open its scope's dust caps, yanking the charging handle to load a non-existent round from an equally non-existent magazine, before shouldering the whole contraption and peering through its eyepiece. The optic seemed good, but it was heavy, very heavy, and did not fit comfortably into his shoulder. Still, that would eventually be C. Raych's problem and, right now, he just needed something to get started on, before the cyborg could make him look a complete fool. She needed practice as quickly as possible and, thanks to Jean's wisdom, she was not the only one. Besides, if this whole thing somehow actually worked out, he would have plenty of time between now and being deployed to acquire something more... suitable… with time to research the issue properly.
"Yes I'll take it, for now." Danilo set the weapon back down again with a solid clonk. "I'll also want a spotter's scope, four magazines, four hundred rounds of ammunition, and targets for the long range."
"You're taking your cyborg out immediately?"
"No, but how am I supposed to teach her to use this, without first knowing what to do with it myself?"