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Jacoby crawled out from under the hover, pulling the forward anti-gravity generator. He put it on the worktable someone had brought him and wiped the grim off his hand. He hated cleaning anti-grav units; they were always filthy. More than one crackpot doom sayer took the fact that the oily grime accumulated within the unit as a sign that anti-gravity technology would bring about the end of the universe.

There was nothing mysterious about it. It was basic science. The unit created the field that kept vehicles aloft, but for that to happen, the fields within it had to be chaotic, which caused atoms to slam into one another and form compounds. Sure, it was a little odd that this black goop was always what ended up happening, but He was sure it had something to do with the stability of the molecules, or something like that.

He wasn't a scientist, but then again neither were those crackpot.

A yell came from further away, and he looked. Rejoicing, from what he could tell. Someone had made a decent shot. Alex was teaching them how to shoot, had been for the last five days, ever since someone had put up polycarbonate sheets up as targets.

He picked up the rifle and sighted it on the group. He adjusted the sight's focus and had a good view of the Samalians. The big one who'd become something of Alex's shadow was holding the Dakary Epsilon disruptor wrong as he took aim and fired. He winced as his finger felt the capacitor discharge and the shot went wild. That seemed to amuse the ones around him.

Alex motioned for him to shoot again, without correcting his grip.

Jacoby sighed. Alex had no idea how to train people. He put the rifle down and went back to the anti-grav unit. Ideally they needed to be replaced every decade so the dirty unit could be sent to the manufacturer and disassembled and each component immersed in a dissolving bath.

Or, if you couldn't afford that or, like his dad, preferred saving that money, some alcohol, rags and a lot of patience could get you the same result. There was something soothing about wiping everything clean and reassembling it. Most people back home took their hovers to Tech for him to change the unit's, but Jacoby had cleaned his own, just like his father had shown him.

Back home.

How long had he been away? Objective time? The trip to Mobius had been a long one, so a year? He'd cooled his heels there for seven months while Alex and his crew got the medic. Then it had been what? A two-month trip to the Sayatoga? And now this had been another long one.

He'd known he would miss Emily and Greg's firstborn taking her first steps, but now he realized that she'd be a young child when he got back. Banny would have gotten over his dislike of girls and found one to date. Or realized guys were more interesting. His mother kept saying he'd be gay. He'd find out when he got back.

How many children would be born in his absence. Kids who wouldn't know who Tech was when they got back. He could call home and find out, but he didn't want to. Realizing he was missing so much was enough.

Alex hadn't wanted any of the kids to help with Tech's rescue because he hadn't wanted them to get hurt. Jacoby hadn't wanted them to experience this. Not aging while the universe around them kept going. Coming home to unknown siblings. To a parent getting hurt or drying in an accident.

It had been a factor in him getting out of the life, when dropping by his parents place after a job, he'd found out his dad had been killed during one of his hunts, and his mother had let herself waste away because there hadn't been anyone there to remind her life was worth living. She'd still be alive, if he had been there, maybe even his dad, since as usual he'd have insisted Jacoby come with him.

Yells of triumph came from the shooting range. Someone had hit something, in spite of Alex's teachings.

He put the last of the clean components on the table and the dirty rag aside. The last time he'd trained anyone was when he'd been a sergeant in the Palatian army. His high marksman score had made his lieutenant pick him for the job and after a few over-the-net courses on how to teach, Jacoby had enjoyed the experience.

He hadn't taught anyone back home, no matter how often the kids asked. He wasn't the only one who knew how to shoot; it was a minority of the people there who didn't enjoy hunting, but he was the ex-merc with the reputation for having fought in thousands of battles in his long life. And he was the only one who was always armed.

What none of the kids understood, of course, was how dangerous a gun was. For them it was just a symbol of how badass someone was, so they wanted it. That Mikael had killed himself when he played with his father's improperly stored rifle hadn't had an effect on them. They were smarter, wiser, far more adept than Mikael ever was, none of them would ever let that happened.

He smiled in spite of himself. Kids.

Another yell of triumph.

He shook his head. Idiot.

Him, not them. If he let Alex teach them, all he'd do was show them how to get hurt. Alex's idea of teaching was to fire at the target and let them imitate him. That wasn't how it worked.

If he let this go on, it would be his fault when one of them got killed.

He put the rifle to his shoulder, looked them over, all shoot happy, then sighted a target. He adjusted the strength of the beam to take into account the distance and fired. The polycarbonate sheet was sent flying back by the force of the impact.

That would be something of a message, he thought as he headed for them.

There were all looking at him, talking softly. Alex didn't look like he wanted to kill him, but there was no telling how he'd react if Jacoby just undercut his authority. "Alex," he nodded a greeting. "I thought that if we divided the training, it might go faster."

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with this."

"I thought so too, but they're only so many repairs I can handle in a day. This would be a distraction. You can supervise the brawlers so they don't kill each other. I can show these guy how to shoot a gun."

"This isn't a joke jac--"

"It's a job, Alex. You said so yourself. I'm going to treat it as such. We can discuss payment later, I know you're good for it."

Alex nodded and said something in what sounded surprisingly like Samalian to his shadow and walked away to join the group of hand to hand fighters. Jacoby watched him. He didn't like that he was learning the language. That and his habit of walking around shirtless felt too much like becoming one of the natives.

"Shoot?" the Samalian asked.

"What's your name?"

"Rig'Irik."

"Anyone else here's going to understand me, Rig?"

"Mother will."

"Where is she?"

"Town."

"Then you're going to have to act as translator. Alright everyone, grab a gun!"

Rig pointed at Jacoby's riffle. "Want that."

"Later. I'm going to teach you how to shoot handguns without maiming yourselves. After that we'll see about rifles."

He spent the next few hours teaching them how to properly grip the guns, the safety features, and what not to do before letting them fire at the target.

* * * * *

"Okay, that's enough for today. You've tried all the guns, now I want you to pick your favorite one." Rig translated, and instead of the rush for the best guns Jacoby expected. They talked, before picking one. There was no arguing. RIg had taken the Enury Volt, the most powerful weapon here. The others deferred to him without question.

Jacoby took the holsters out of the crate and handed the appropriate ones. "These guns are yours. You will carry them with you at all time so you get used to their weight."

"Shoot?" a copper female asked. That was the only word they'd learned as far as Jacoby could tell.

"No. But one thing at a time," He showed them how to put the holsters on. At the hip for the Enury and the Kytron, under the arm for the Azeru, Cyrialk and Dolfic. That they were all naked still made Jacoby feel weird, but he was learning to ignore it.

He got growls of complaints as they tried to adjust the straps.

"I know this doesn't feel normal. Unlike us, you're not used to having anything rub against your body, but this leaves your hands free so you can do whatever else you need to do." He took the box of extra power packs from the crate. "Come on."

Once at the hover, he opened the external panel that gave him access to the charging slots. He motioned to Rig. "Take the pack out."

The Samalian fumbled with it, but pulled it out. Jacoby had him put it back in and do it again. He had him repeat it until he was able to take it out smoothly. He was pleased to see they others practice without being told to.

"How much of a charge in it?"

Rig turned the pack over until he found it, then squinted as he read the display in a way that told Jacoby he needed eye correction. "Low," he said.

"Good enough." He's suspected as much since Alex had never brought any of the packs to charge. He took a pack from the box and inserted it in a slot. "At the end of every practice, you're going to bring the pack and put it in here to charge." He indicated for them to put them in.

"New one?" Rig indicated the box.

"Not until I believe you will treat your guns with the respect they are due. And I'm not going to let it be when you accidentally shoot a family member."

Rig translated and then bounced his gun in his hand. "It's rock."

"No, it's a gun. That is what I mean. You need to respect your weapon at all time, or someone innocent is going to get hurt. Once I'm gone, you can do whatever you want, but while I'm here. You're not going to walk around with a charged gun."

Rig put the gun back in its holster, first backward, then correctly. "Shoot tomorrow?"

"You guys still practice hand to hand, right?"

"Yes."

"Then once you're done with that, come here for the pack and we'll get in more shooting practice."

He watched them leave, talking excitedly, taking the guns out and pointed them around them. And there was why he wouldn't let them have power packs. This hadn't felt like the waste of time he'd been afraid it would. He'd had soldiers who hadn't been as serious as they had been about learning.

He still felt this was a waste of time in the long run, there was no way they would be able to learn everything they needed before Tristan finished his wall, or before the next marauder attack came. But this was something to do.

* * * * *

Three days passed, and each morning Jacoby worked on the hover while the Samalians trained in unarmed fighting. The group got someone new every day. When they were done they went to eat, and then some fought again, while Jacoby's group came for their packs and to practice. On the third Day Jacoby got a new student, a girl who looked to be the youngest, and Rig took it upon himself to teach her how to handle a gun. He had the making of a decent teacher.

On the fourth day, all hell broke loose when Jacoby saw Tristan wade in the middle of the hand to hand fight.

"Rig! Where's Alex!"

"In town."

He cursed. "Go get him! Hurry!"

Jacoby ran for the fighters. Tristan was already fighting one of them. "Tech! Stop! They're friends!" There was no way he could be heard. It sounded like the others were cheering the fight on.

Jacoby managed to force his way through the circle that had formed in time to see Tech strike the large gray furred Samalian hard enough to send him flying to the other side of the circle. A smaller one broke from the circle and launched herself at Tristan with a feral scream.

They were going to get themselves killed, Jacoby thought, and there was nothing he could do about it.