Over the next few days, Ciara and I continue to work with just assembling the rifle. She has a timer, and she says she won't let me learn to shoot until I can do it in ten second.

On the fourth day, I assemble the rifle and slam it down. She stops the clock. "Nine point seven-three. Good. Pick it up and put it away."

I look at her for a second, and she stares back. With a bit of a shrug, I pick it up and disassemble it, putting it back in the bag.

"Follow me."

She strides out of the room and I scurry to follow her, slinging the leather bag over my shoulder.

Ciara leads me to the top of a hill about a mile from the base.

"See that can hanging from the tree over there?"  She points to a tree about a hundred feet away.

I nod.

"We aren't leaving until you hit it."

There's a line of barrels, and I go to them to set up the rifle and take aim. Ciara stands back as I squint through the sight and squeeze the trigger.

I miss.

Entirely.

The bolt hits the branch holding the can and both can and stick crash to the ground, smoldering.

I look up cautiously and am greeted with a scowl.

"Go get the can and put it back up."

I jog down, push apart the leaves to find the can, stomp out the smoking wood, and try to figure out how to get it back up. I have to resort to climbing the tree to tie it up again, before jogging all of the way back to the line of barrels only to find that Ciara has disassembled the rifle.

You know, I don't think I like her very much.

I reassemble the rifle again and shoot.

This time it just clips the end of the branch but the can stays put.

"Disassemble and try again," Ciara directs, pacing behind me. "I'd like to get back to base by dinner."

I scowl. It's barely lunch time. But I do as she asks, and this time, I hit it. There's a red-hot hole in the can.

I look back at her with what I must admit was a pretty smug expression and she nods slowly.

"I guess you get lunch after all." Ciara starts down the hill.

I break apart the rifle and put it away, slinging the bag over my shoulder as I jog after her, coming in stride with her. "Here," I say, holding out the bag.

She doesn't even look at me. "That's yours."

"Really?"

"Yes, do I have to repeat it again? Before you eat lunch, make sure it's secure in your barracks." She pulls ahead, clearly not wanting me to catch up with her again.

I pull the strap of the leather bag back on my shoulder and follow a few steps behind.

I'm extremely hungry, so I rush to put away the rifle so I can eat. Unfortunately, it seems like every single Rebel decided that today is Walk-really-slowly-and-block-the-whole-hall Day.

I dodge through the people, murmuring my apologies as I knock into a Cathar here and a Mon Calamari there.

Finally, I put the rifle away and dodge back to the mess hall, where there's hardly anything left.

But I'm able to scavenge up a pretty good meal from the trays, and end up being the last one there.

Linami is nowhere to be found, so I go outside to watch the pilots land and take off.

Gaspard is off training with the other infantry men, running laps around the landing pad.  He winks at me as he passes and I try to wink back.

It doesn't work.  I just look like a total moof milker.  I don't know what a moof is, but Linami calls me that sometimes, so I assume she means stupid or something.

I'll try to get better at that, winking I mean.

Who knows when winking will come in handy?

Two X-Wings come in for a landing and the pilots jump out.  One of them, the shorter one, removes their helmet and their frizzy brown hair falls out.

I wave, and Linami waves back.  She holds up a finger.  Wait a bit.

She talks to the other pilot for a few minutes, takes down the astromech she was borrowing, and eventually meanders my way.

"I think you need to teach me to fly now."  I walk with her back into the interior of the base.

"No way," she says.  "I am not getting in a ship with you.  Ever."

"Come on.  We had a bet."

"Who says I'm going to keep up my side of the bet?  People change their bets all the time."

"Because if you don't, I'll..." I trail off.  "I won't hang out with you."

"Alright.  I have better friends."

"Hey!"

"Fine.  I'll talk to Antilles about letting me use the simulators during our R&R hours."

"What's 'R and R'?"

"Rest and relaxation, you moof milker!"

See what I mean?

"Alright.  We have a few hours until dinner.  What do you want to do?"

"Sleep."  Linami yawns, bigger than an authentic one would be.  It makes me yawn, though, and she laughs at me.

"Lazy," I comment.

"You yawned too!"

"You made me!"

"I'm going to bed."

"Good night then.  I won't save you a seat at dinner."

"I won't teach you how to fly."

"Low."

"High."

"Moof milker."

"Nerf herder."

I can't think of any.  "Taun taun rider."

"Hey, those are cool."

"Whatever.  Good night."

She smiles and takes a few steps down the hall, walking backwards.  "Goodnight, Cassian."

I grin back.  What is happening to me?