Chapter 61

A triple black Suburban with FED A plates parked in the Handicapped slot and several suits offloaded. The FED border is about a hundred meters south. They come into the Princessapality often. Junior was keeping an eye on ‘em.

Looking at the target, I said, “How in the Hell...?”

“A good part of what I do has to do with alignment, posture, breathing and balance. The Range Officer showed me what has been the military standard for the last hundred years. Of course, the standard has nothing to do with correctness. It’s an officer’s ideal ... and some general wanted pretty ... and they’re all wrong. I said ... No. “Let me find my center,” and I went from there. I thought about gravity and its effect on bullet flight. I took the proper stance for me. Received one bullet ... loaded, fired and took the center of the X out. He was pretty surprised. “Try it again.” Same hole. He was SURE I missed. I loaded up the magazine... 16 in the 10 ring. Never once hit the separation line between 9 and 10. However ... the Model 17 was all over the target ... a burr in the barrel. He changed pistols ... this one,” I patted my belly pouch, “is fine.

“Then I did it with my left hand ... that’s the target they just put up.

“Oh... 25 meters.”

Open mouths ... chins on the floor. The bunch of rather official suits was creating a racket at the counter ... bunch ... four of ‘em. Wanted to know who faked the target.

Well ... shit! The kid behind the counter pointed our way. They assumed he ewas pointing at our captain. There was an obvious AIC ... agent in charge. Black shoes as opposed to the brown of the crew.

They took adversarial stances ... if it has happened to you ... you know. If you never ... I can’t explain. They make one nervous. They tend to spread out. I guess the spread is so they can’t easily be taken out

“Which one of you faked that target?” Black shoe asked ... accused actually. He was looking at the male ... women are second class citizens in the FED.

Abby said, “I shot the target ... was it good?” She was proud but shy ... and sure that her gun handling was pure accident.

That caused a major shift in situational awareness ... we were noticed. And THEN they recalled their training ... Junior is a focal point. APB ... all points broadcast. Do NOT disturb!

She grinned, “Out of your area, aren’t you?”

“Umh...” flashes of governmental actions ... disapproved stupidity ... by others. The border needs to be back where it was ... so they can Storm Trooper ... like they used to.

“Just doing a little target shooting ... ammo is cheaper here,” Black shoe said.

“Care for a little ‘friendly competition?’”

Ooo ... wave a red flag in the bull’s nose, whyontcha, Junior?

A brown shoe said, “Hold on,” He turned to Abby, pointing at the holey target, “You shot this?”

“Seventeen bullseyes?”

“There’s 18.”

“I see 17...”

“I know ... one ... the very center of the X ... is two bullets.”

And that moved us all to the counter.

The target in question was taken down, revealing the target behind. It was very good.

The brown shoe said, “I shot that last week.”

So that one was added to the one already on the glass. The counter help called a local range judge. The names were taped over and the judge stepped in. The two targets were on the lit glass counter. Nobody said a word.

He unboxed a microscope and proceeded to inspect. Finally ... he whistled softly and said...

“This one is 18 holes ... the other is very good ... a winner in most competitions ... but ... I can tell the 18 hole was shot left handed. She was shorter.”

His proofs included the fibercut angle and the slight upwards angle.

He turned to we three.

“Your Higness, Selene, and ... I don’t know you.”

“Abby.”

“Abby?”

“Just Abby.”

“Australia? or New Zealand?”

“New Zealand, sir.”

“First handgun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you be interested in Nationals?”