"Fire!"
A massive amount of blasters fired simultaneously, burning holes into their individual targets. The sounds of rifles being placed on the floor resounded next, followed by the crack of a pistol.
"You call that shooting?!" The head Loki'irian bellowed. "A scout can fire more accurately! We'll be here the entire cycle until your shots are spot on! ZENTA! GUFOK! EMBER! FRONT AND CENTER!"
A male Loki'irian, about 13 cycles old, with medium black hair and green eyes, ran out from the line and stood in front of the Mendigino. Beside him, a female regular ran up. She had her black, silky hair tied up, but a single patch partly covered her left eye, leaving her bright blue right eye for all to see. The boy was Gufok, and she was Zenta. Ember came last, since she was at the farthest end of the line. Their Mendigino trainer, Zugaske, was not in the least happy to see any of them.
"Yes, sir!" They shouted, their arms behind their backs.
"Would you each care to explain your precision?!" He roared, stepping past each of them.
"I've trained with the rifle since my father died in the Hurishikot battle!" Gufok announced. "He was a marksman, and I aim to surpass him with a hole in every Arthanian's head!"
"Good! Then you keep up that precision and you'll make him proud! You're already on your way!" Zugaske stated, aggressively patting Gufok's back. "And you, Zenta?!"
"My mother taught me with the pistol!" She yelled. "I advanced through most of my classes as a top shooter! Just want to be on the front lines, sir!"
"Keep up the accuracy and you'll be farther than the front line!" Zugaske then stepped in front of Ember, who came up to his elbow. "AND YOU, NERA'AKAS?!"
Ember steeled her will and rose her head. "I've trained since I was able to speak! I've been able to focus myself and control my breathing, which allows me to make a clean shot!" She yelled. "This is only my fifth time firing a rifle! I want to become stronger to be by my fiancé's side in battle!"
Zugaske kept his stern, disciplinary glare strong, but he said nothing. "All of you, class is dismissed! Report to your next training stations," he ordered. The warriors-in-training saluted before mounting their weapons on their individual racks, then hurried out the door.
Ember was about to follow when she felt. Zugaske's hand on her shoulder. "Is there something wrong, sir?" She asked, noticing a certain sternness about him. "Protiiglo Humooro won't appreciate me being tardy if—"
"I'll speak with him later," he interjected. "Tell him ‘Zokoya’. That should explain it to him."
Ember rose a brow, but nodded slowly. "Is there something wrong?" She questioned again.
Zugaske only motioned for her to follow, and since she understood that when a Loki'irian used hand gestures it was serious, she listened. Zugaske led her to a small room at the far side of the shooting facility, then switched on a holographic projector. After quickly swiping and dialing in commands, he stepped to the side as a 3-D recording of their session began to play. It was the first of many shots she had fired in their short training period.
"Our security measures are more… sophisticated, than other races," he told her. "Most use different forms of capturing footage. We've integrated several forms of them to make sure we can know what happened… and when it happened."
He wrote in a command, and the footage of her shooting turned to masses of red, orange, and yellow. Then, to a mix of green and black. One version showed a skeletal version of her scales and bone structure. The next, muscles and tissue. He then switched it to a strange mode, one where she and each teen beside her was a different color. Her own was a dull red while the others varied in brighter and darker colors of the spectrum.
"Using a specific glass from our world, we can portray the colors of our personal energies," he explained. "This… is what I was concerned about."
He placed his hands on the hologram, then moved his hands farther apart to zoom in on her belly. There was a small, faint color of sky blue mixed in with her own energy. Ember kept her anxiety suppressed, and turned to meet the Mendigino's eyes.
"You should not be here in your condition," he warned gently. "Not even our own women would… further attempt it."
She smiled briefly after his quick diversion, but only turned to her recording. "I'm fine for now, sir," Ember sighed. "A dragoness is only weak during the final two months."
"Are you sure?" Before she could answer, Zugaske forwarded the footage until they were at the second-to-last shot.
As Ember readied to fire her weapon, she grimaced slightly and spasmed in the slightest motion, delaying her shot. He rewinded it, then returned it to the energy filter. Just before Ember spasmed, there was a slight jerk of color that came from her belly. She reacted painfully, and her shot rang out after the others.
Ember looked to be in shock. "But… but… h-how… how is—"
"Interspecies births, especially with a Loki'irian, is unpredictable," Zugaske said. "If the female in the relationship isn't Loki'irian, what would be considered a normal growth of the egg can be completely ignored. It's uncommon, but females can start to experience grave illness, massive pain and, even more rarely, death."
He placed his hand on her shoulder.
"I won't force you to stop… and I'm sure you're correct," he said. "However, I suggest you stop well before the final two months. Let your body rest. Eat properly. And don't become too stressed. I'm no medical expert, but that's what I think."
Ember nodded slowly, staring at the signature on the projector. "Thank you… Zugaske. But I must ask you keep this a secret… even from Dra— …I mean… Reku'un. He… he still doesn't know."
With a small sigh, Zugaske placed his right hand on her parallel shoulder, and nodded. "You have my word," he reluctantly said. "Now hurry. I don't think Homooru will be accepting of a lateness like this."
Ember smiled, then hurried after her squad, rushing past the giants in the halls and making her way into the sparring room. "EMBER!"
The enormous Signa that was Homooru landed before her, causing her to stumble harshly. "Zokoya!"
Homooru held his tongue in the middle of a word, then huffed and lowered his finger. "Go find your rival," he growled. "NOW!"
Ember repressed a snarl and ran over to Nimash, her assigned rival. Nimash was in the middle of stretching, but she jumped to her feet and swung a leg back to ready herself.
"You're a bit late, aren't you, Ember?" She laughed, just as Ember did a few brief exercises to loosen up.
With a graceful movement of her legs, she rose a claw and smirked softly. "Yes. But we'll still spar, won't we?"
Nimash tossed her wavy black hair to the side, a sharp gleam in her maroon eyes. "Yes. Yes we will."
The two shouted as they rushed forward, lashing out viciously.