Editing Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Two (section)

===A Relaxing Day at the Range===


Outside, Venus checked to make sure she had the right box, then hurried down the corridor to the lifts.  A pair of serfs waiting outside the doors fell to their knees as she approached.

“Rise, gentlemen, I’m going to need help here.  Has the rain stopped?” she asked, tucking the crown case under one arm.

“It has, Princess,” one serf said, climbing to his feet.  He stared at her in open awe.  “The scourers should have the Square ready for you in an hour if you wish to make an address.”

“I do.  How do I get there fastest without walking?” she asked, stepping into the lift.

The serfs walked in after her.  “By an aircar or the tram, but I’d suggest an aircar, your Highness,” the serf continued.  The other one piped up.

“I’m sure Regent No’dan will arrange something, your Highness.”

“Sure.”  Venus descended in silence, rehearsing her speech in her head.  She glanced down as the rapier’s scabbard bounced off her leg.  “Oh.  Actually, which way is the armory?” she asked.

“Er…two floors below the hangar, your Highness,” one serf said carefully.

“Okay, I’ll stop there first,” she said to herself, and tapped a different button on the controls.

The armory guard was leaning on the security counter outside when a blob of red caught his eye.  He glanced up from his holomag and lurched to stiff attention as Venus came to halt before him, her cape billowing in her wake.  “Sergeant.  Might I pop in for a moment?” she asked quickly.

“Of course, your Highness, what can I get for you?” he asked.

“Seven standard power packs, Sergeant, for a Conflagrator and a Power Rapier,” she said, gesturing to her weapons.

“Of course, your Highness.  Seven standard MPC40s, coming up,” he said, scurrying over to the armory and tapping the call button.

“Make that eight, actually,” she called after him.

“Yes, your Highness,” he said back.

Someone answered the call button on his PA panel.  “Yeah?”

“Eight MPC40s, pronto,” the Sergeant called.

“Eight?  You starting a war out there?”

“I’m starting a discharge form with your name on it if you get between Princess Venus and her ceremonial weapons’ ammunition,” the Sergeant said under his breath.

The PA went silent.  Moments later, a turnstile in the wall next to him spat out eight little black boxes.  The Sergeant scooped them up and bolted back to the desk, where Venus was waiting, fists on her hips.  “Your ammunition, Princess,” he said, depositing the packs.

“Good.”  She hefted one and ejected the placeholder from her Rapier’s pommel, sliding the pack into place.  The tiny red light on the pommel blinked twice to acknowledge the charge and went dark.

“Do you need a place to test them?” the Sergeant asked.

Venus thought.  “I suppose I have time.  Where do I sign?” she asked, looking over the assorted slates and papers on his desk.

“I can do the paperwork for you if you’re in a hurry, your Highness,” the Sergeant said.

“No, that’s fine, I should do this…myself…” she said, her voice trailing off as she caught sight of the holomag he had been reading.  She slowly tilted her head, trying to get a better angle on its content.

The Sergeant hastily turned the mag off.  Venus looked up at him and raised one eyebrow.

“Nothing worth mentioning, your Highness,” the Sergeant managed.  “Er.  The sheet.  Yes.  Here you are,” he said, pushing the range sheet and armory sign-in at her.  She nodded and signed both.  “The range is that way, just please let us know if you need more ammunition or something.  Your Highness.”

Venus nodded.  “Thanks, Sergeant.”  She glanced down at the blank holomag and back up, a smile quirking her lips.  “As you were.”

She ignored his panicked salute and strode quickly down the hallway to her side, ammo boxes balanced on top of the other box.  Idly, she wondered why the Royal Outfitters had chosen such a non-descript way to ship the crown, then decided it wasn’t worth asking.

She blew into the range, finding it nearly deserted.  A serf at the counter stood, having clearly heard her approach over the PA.  “Princess Venus, welcome.  A little Q before the speech, your Highness?” he asked.

“Nope, testing something.  Thanks.  Set me up for a CQC stationary and mid-range thermo, please,” she said, wiping down some earmuffs and taking her place at the nearest lane.

“Yes, your Highness,” the serf said, keying it in.  With a whining of pneumatics, a meter-thick block of metal with a human outline rose from her lane, about fifteen meters away.  Venus set her box and ammo down, popping the placeholder cell from her Conflagration gun, and settled the new pack into place with a *click*.  “Clear,” he called.

The green light over the lane flicked on, and Venus depressed the trigger once.  With almost no recoil, the muzzle of the gun pulsed orange light.  The metal block half-melted in an instant.  Venus blinked, staring at the gun in shock.  “…Oops.”

The serf gaped.  “Uh…cease fire,” he said, and tapped the button again.  The light over the range turned red again, and the hydraulics pulled the metal block back down.

Venus set the gun back in its holster and stepped out of her lane.  “My sincere apologies, Rangemaster, I had no idea this thing had that kind of punch.”

“I…yes.  Well.  It’s a Conflagration gun, your Highness, they…all do that,” the serf said.  “Well.  Nothing a little time in the shop can’t fix.  The CQC one?”

“This won’t demolish it, will it?” she asked, tapping the Rapier.

“Not unless it’s ultracharged.  Is it?”

Venus checked the tiny letters around the pommel.  “No.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” the serf said.  “Er…whenever you’re ready,” he said, gesturing her to the melee-weapon chamber.

She walked over and opened the door, wrinkling her nose at the stink of promethium.  A metal and plastic model of a human with a plastic lasgun in its hands rose from the floor.  The speaker overhead blared once, and Venus lunged at the model, skewering it.  She withdrew it and looked closely.  “Perfect.  No melt,” she said.  She tapped the door and the speaker blared again as the model sunk into the floor.

She stepped out into the range, picking up her things.  “Thanks, Rangemaster, it works fine.  Sorry again about the thermo,” she said.  “I should have specified.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem, we replace them every week anyway,” the man said.  The casual tone of his voice spoke volumes about his station.  On an Astartes range, the Rangemaster could talk down a Terminator.  “Thanks for dropping by, your Highness.”

“Thanks for having me,” she said, scooping up spare ammo and dropping it into the pouches on her belt.  She said her goodbyes and hefted her box, walking back to the lifts.  As she arrived, she found her nerves returning.  She was looking forward to speaking before her people, of course.  She was apprehensive about the way she would be perceived.  She hadn’t been home in a long time, and her first act was to take a vacation.  How would that go over?

She stepped into the lift, tapping the button for the hangar floor.  As the lift rose, she breathed deeply, trying to banish her ill feelings.  Whatever happened, happened.  Nothing to do but go on as well as she could.

In the hangar, she paused, noting the streams of air and ground cars leaving the building.  The sky outside was a bruised purple, as the reddish light from the sun poured through the acid blue clouds.  A Salamander noticed her standing at the door and immediately marched up.  “Princess Venus.  Are you ready to depart?”

“I am, inasmuch as I can be,” she replied.  “Do I have a ride?”

“Of course, your Highness, an aircar has been called.  Will your companions be joining you?” the warrior asked, glancing around.

“They will not.”  Venus watched as an aircar pulled up across the back of the room.  “Good.  We’re a little early.”

“Then let us depart, and avoid crowds that may pose a security concern,” the Salamander said.  “Of course we suspect no risk to your Highness here, or the speech would not occur…but as recent events have shown…”

“Of course,” Venus said.  She really didn’t need to be reminded of poor Morticia at that juncture.  The Power Armored warrior opened the door for her and she climbed in.  The car lifted immediately, and soared off to the City Square.