“Can I ask you something,” I say from my prone position on my lounger. I am actually finding myself beginning to relax, the warm sun and the cool breeze allowing me to detach a little from everything that’s whirling around in my mind.

“Of course,” Rob replies, “I can hear him roll onto his side, so I do the same, turning over until I can see him clearly across the metre of sand between us. That might not be what I need right now, but I’ve moved and will just have to live with the visual distraction.

“I kind-of know that the answer is yes before I ask, but you do know how to use that gun that you wear when you’re in uniform, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s a normal part of military training to be familiar with any weapons you might need.”

“Figures. We are some of the few people left on earth who have anything to do with firearms of any sort, but ours are just lightweight rifles for darting specimens. Even then, we only need to know to point them in the right direction and pull the trigger.”

“We’ve never really come up with anything better than chemical propellants for most infantry weapons,” Rob tells me. “The chemicals and the materials the bullets are made of certainly have changed over the centuries, but the principles are still the same. Your dart guns are air-powered, aren’t they?”

“Yes. The newer ones have a magazine for the darts and can make several shots in rapid succession, because Peter and Andy quickly discovered that the earlier single-shot models were inadequate. Doesn’t matter how quick the tranquiliser works if you need two of them in a couple of seconds, apparently.”

“We have air guns for any time that we have to be stealthy, but mostly our sidearms and rifles are very conventional. Some of the bigger stuff is non-chemical. That’s mostly electro-magnetic driven stuff. Pulse rifles and such. They’re very powerful, but also very heavy.”

“And you know how to use all of these?”

“Very much so. I’m trained as a designated marksman. That means I would normally be the member of the squad that is given a longer-range weapon with better optics.”

“Like a sniper?”

“Well, that’s a bit of a cliché.”

“Is it really though? Isn’t your job at that point to shoot first?”

“It is. Just remember, however, that we have nobody to fight against. I’m really good against targets, though.”

“Could you show me?”

“What, now?”

“Well, we’ve nothing better to do than lie here and sunbathe, so why not?” I ask, sitting up and slipping my feet into my sandals.

Rob’s features go blank for a moment, a clear indication that he is using his Nexima. “Okay then. I’ve got clearance. You’ll need to dress for a cooler climate than here though. Why not meet me by the hub gateway in about fifteen minutes?”

“That’s not much time,” I mutter as I stand and head off towards my apartment. “See you in a few minutes.”

Even with two layers to my usual one, I’m pretty sure that I’m still under-dressed. I had no idea where we were actually going as Rob guided me through the Atlanta hub and even less when we walked briskly through the London hub and on our way to Oslo. By the time we had taken two more gateways, I was completely dis-orientated and standing in a deep u-shaped valley in the hills of central Norway, watching the sun slip down towards the western horizon very slowly.

“What is this place?” I manage to ask as we step up to a very serious and apparently very secure gate.

“Training centre and rifle range,” Rob tells me. “We need to go through the gate one-at-a-time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You have a temporary clearance, but everyone is checked in and out. There are weapons here with live ammunition.”

“Do we have enough time? It’ll be dark soon.”

“Don’t worry, the range is lit for 24-hour operation. It’s the primary training site on Earth now. We need to cater to people from across the whole planet and beyond.”

Once through the gate, we walk briskly to a large building ahead of the entrance. Rob moves confidently, secure in his knowledge of the place. I’m much more circumspect, keeping close to his side all the time.

Once inside, there’s little to see other than a long counter and a couple of staff sitting behind it. Beyond them are racks of shelves and closed cabinets.

“Hi Rob,” one of the two men says jovially. “Did you break that pistol already?”

“No, Neil, I bloody didn’t. It’s been literally months since I broke anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s only a matter of time. Anyway, what can I do for you then?”

“The Earth spokesman here,” Rob tells Neil, gesturing with his thumb in my direction, “wants to see if I can really shoot as well as I say. Everything has been cleared with brass. I just need to check-out a rifle and about fifty rounds of ammunition.”

“What ammo do you want?”

“Forty conventional and ten specials?”

Neil glances down at a terminal on the counter, almost out of view and nods at nothing in particular.

“Sure, Rob. I’ll just go and get them for you.” He vanishes off into the rows of shelves and there’s the sound of a cabinet being opened, then, after a moment it being closed and another being opened. Neil returns after only a minute or so, a long rectangular case over one shoulder and two small boxes in his hand.

“This was cleaned and checked a few days ago,” Neil tells Rob as he places the case on the counter and sits the cartridge boxes next to it. He taps a couple of buttons on his terminal and there’s a beep from inside the case that’s muffled by the case itself. “That’s coded and ready.”

“Thanks, Neil,” Rob tells him. “We’ll be less than an hour.”

“No problem. I might be off duty by then, but just drop it back when you’re done.”

Rob swings the rifle-case comfortably over one shoulder and hands the ammunition to me to carry. Although small, both boxes are heavier than I thought they might be. There are letters and numbers on the boxes, but I don’t actually know what any of them mean. Rob leads me through a different door and along a short footpath that appears to lead to another open-sided building. Everything is eerily quiet – we must be the only people here.

At the entrance to the covered space, Rob stops to grab two pairs of ear protection and hands one set to me. “These are smart,” he tells me. “You should be able to hear me fine with them on, but not the sound of the gunshots.”

Rob leads me to the far end of the building and turns into a small booth that is open to the valley in front of us. There are brightly lit orange targets in the vague shape of a person’s torso. They seem to stretch off into the valley beyond, where they look impossibly small and distant.

“Right, I’m down here on the ground. If you want to sit in that chair, you can use this telescope to see what’s happening out there.” Rob takes a moment to show me how to focus the optics and also how to zoom in and out at will. The telescope is a superb piece of glass, bright and clear with an impressive overlay that shows distance, wind speeds and more that I don’t understand.

Looking through the scope, I can clearly see that each of the targets is marked with a small sign beside it that indicates the distance from the shooter. The most distant one is at 1200m and, even seen through the scope it looks very small.

Taking my eye from the eyepiece I can watch as Rob takes the rifle out of the case and checks it over expertly. He opens the larger of the two boxes and loads ten cartridges into the top of the rifle. They are, at the same time, bigger and smaller than I expected. Each cartridge is about as big as my index finger, ending in a very slender and pointed bullet that looks smooth and shiny.

Rob sits himself down on the floor, an area that is clearly padded for some comfort. He sits upright with his legs in front of himself and then lifts one knee up to allow him to rest the weight of the weapon on his kneecap.

“These are standard issue ammunition,” he tells me as he relaxes. “They use a chemical propellant to drive the bullet. We now use 7mm bullets that are very complicated in their make-up and covered with a nano-coating that makes them fly stably and protects them from the heat of friction.”

“Friction? How fast are they going, then?”

“Around 1500m/s. A little less than one second in the air to hit that far target.”

“Ready?” Rob asks. “Ears on?”

I quickly adjust my ear protection and then call “Ready!” I quickly return to looking through the scope.

“500m target to start,” Rob tells me as he readies himself.

Through the noise-cancelling ear protection, the sound of the shot is a dull, almost distant pop, but it only masks the sound and I can feel the concussion of the bullet flying out of the barrel and away. Through the scope, there’s nothing to see until the flat metal plate that the target is apparently made out of rocks and twists from the impact. A fraction of a second later I hear the clang of the hit.

Even before it has stopped moving, Rob puts four more rounds into it. Each one sets it rocking even more violently, but every shot hits true.

As I continue to watch intently, Rob calls each target in turn and puts five rapid shots into each of them, all with unerring accuracy. When we get to 1000m he doubles down and uses a full magazine of ten shots. At this range, it is apparent, even to a newbie like myself, that they are having less effect on the target. I’m assuming that this is because they are already slowing down and losing some energy.

When Rob lowers the barrel and relaxes for a moment, I take the opportunity to ask about the loss of impact. “Are you getting close to the limit with those?”

“Yes. They are rated for 800m effective range. Accuracy is still good beyond that, but they just don’t have an amount of energy that the authorities consider lethal,” Rob tells me. “This is why we have specials.”

“I heard you ask for them. What are we talking about?”

“Smart bullets. They’ve actually been around for hundreds of years at this point, but they are now considered perfected technology. Watch the far target.”

I do, but I keep one eye on Rob as he takes the cartridges out of the other, smaller box and loads all ten of them into his rifle.

I’d been half-convincing myself that I could see the trajectory of the bullets at the further targets through the scope and now I’m certain of it. There appears to be enough turbulence and shimmer developed by the passing of the bullet that you can convince yourself that it is a glimpse of the track. What previously looked like a curving ballistic arc is now, frankly, weird.

As the initial round streaks downrange, I’m convinced that it is off target by a dozen metres or more. Somehow, half-way down the range, it appears to bend in the air, changing course and apparently accelerating to power into the 1200m plate with shocking force. To prove a point, Rob fires three more, each one slightly off the target and each turning in the air to hit with shocking accuracy.

“I’m not seeing things, am I?” I ask as he pauses.

“No. They have guidance and a tiny amount of propellant on-board. They hit faster than when they left the barrel at this range.”

“So, that would kill someone?”

“Depends on where it hits, I suppose,” Rob admits. “They would definitely be out of the fight, though, no matter what. I’d be like being hit with a sledge-hammer dropped off a building.”

“Are you as good with a hand-gun?”

“Possibly better,” Rob admits with the first hint of a blush that I’ve ever seen from him. It just makes him look even cuter than before.

“I’m starting to feel the chill,” I admit as Rob removes the rest of the rounds from the magazine and places them back in their box. “Can we go back to the warmth of Florida now?”

“You don’t want a turn?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m more than happy to let you protect me if it becomes necessary. Can I have a look at it though?”

“Hmm… You will be getting lessons with a pistol before we get to the surface, you know?”

“What? You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly, as they say. Nobody is going down to the surface without knowing how to use a sidearm and that includes you.”

“Okay… Well, not okay, but I understand. I certainly wouldn’t want to have a gun and not know how to use it.”

“Plenty of time, but you’ll soon know your way around this place.”

“Can’t we find somewhere warmer?”

“No, this is it.”

Despite my reservation, Rob holds the rifle out to me and I take hold of it carefully. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see, but it is pretty much as I expected. What I didn’t expect was a small info display built into the stock, right behind the action.

“What’s this screen for?” I ask.

“It’s a status display for the interlocking safety features. When I checked the weapon out of storage, Neil coded it to me. There’s a fingerprint sensor in the trigger and it won’t fire for anyone else. The sights also interface with my implant to allow me to target select for those special bullets.”

“I see. It’s a lot more technologically advanced than I thought. You did say that things have moved on and now I see what you mean. It would fire for me, though?”

“Yes. I can override the lock with my implant in any situation. Imagine being in a close-quarters fight and not being able to reach the gun. Someone else could and I could allow them to fire.”

“That sounds like you’ve thought of everything. I feel safer already!”