The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

“Trooper Sazar, surrender your sidearm.”
    With deliberate care, Sazar slowly unholstered his laser pistol, turned it butt first, and extended it to Lokus, who reached across the space between them to take it. He watched his own actions and Lokus’s with numb detachment tinged with horror.
    Lokus walked slowly behind his desk and turned his back to the men, looking out the window at the Nuevo Angeles skyline. “It has been a long time since I held a laser pistol,” he said casually, hefting the weapon in his hands. “This new model feels a bit light, although I do approve of the new control design and placement. Everything in one place, easily accessible with either shooting hand. Convenient and functional.
    “You gentlemen may be aware that I was once known for my speed and accuracy with a pistol. In the late 2200s, I held the Western Region handgun championship four years in a row.”
    Lokus paused. His idle conversation and cavalier attitude only served to exacerbate the growing feeling of dread in the two troopers, a fact of which he was fully and gleefully aware. They remained at attention, a foot apart. Having abandoned all efforts to conceal their terror, they now merely tried desperately just to contain it.
    “Hmph, the late 2200s. My word, listen to me. That was last century, was it not? It sounds so very long ago, and yet, I wonder...”
    Abruptly, Lokus wheeled around, simultaneously thumbing the weapon’s controls. Starting at the sudden movement, Sazar found himself facing the ruby emitter of his own weapon.
    He gasped and prayed for a quick death.
    Another small, swift motion, and Lokus fired. As he did so, he rotated his wrist ever so slightly; with incredible precision, the beam cut a neat arc through its target. In less than a second it inscribed a precise six-inch circle around the stylized “L”—directly in the center of Trooper Valik’s chest. The beam passed easily through Valik and scorched the door ten feet behind him.
    Instantly Lokus made a tiny adjustment in the pistol’s controls and fired again. A wider, more powerful beam struck Valik’s body and drove out the freshly cut plug with such force that it flew across the room and slammed into the door, falling to the floor with a sickening wet thud, the heart in the center of the mass still beating.
    Barely three seconds had passed.
    “Yes, convenient and functional indeed,” Lokus said dispassionately.
    Valik’s body weaved, dead but still standing. Sazar, too shocked to remain at attention, turned just in time to look through terrified eyes at the gaping hole in his comrade, still smoldering around the edges. Valik’s muscles went limp, and the body slumped down quietly. Trembling, Sazar stared at the widening pool of blood and tried to take in what had happened. Instinctively, he snapped back to attention, fighting the rising urge to vomit and wondering why he was still alive.
    Lokus took his time providing an explanation. He examined the pistol again, passed it from hand to hand, felt the heat of the barrel at the discharge point. Finally he looked up, his eyes narrow slits of light. “Trooper Sazar, I value loyalty and responsibility above all else, and Valik had neither. Since the primary mission had already failed, the stupidest possible course of action would have been to kill the remaining scientists—the only ones from whom we can learn their plans, the location of their temporal relocator, and the extent of their resistance. Whether or not you realized it at the time, you were quite right to stop Valik from shooting down the skimmer.”
    Sazar considered whether to thank the Vice Governor for the backhanded compliment, but decided against it.
    Lokus circled the desk and approached Sazar, extending the hand holding his pistol, the hand that had just murdered his comrade. “Your sidearm.”
    Holstering the weapon, Sazar suddenly wondered how he would explain the pistol’s discharge to his Commander, as it would certainly show up in the logs. It would look like he killed Valik!
    Lokus seemed to read his mind. “Do not be concerned about the fire logs, Trooper Sazar. I will, shall we say, review them on your behalf, perhaps transfer the discharge instance code to Trooper Valik’s own sidearm.” He reflected a moment. “Yes, yes, this unfortunate incident will be logged as ‘accidental discharge due to improper weapon maintenance.’ That absolves you of any wrongdoing and clears you of any implication in a