Sample From Chapter 12 - "Weapons Test"

Noir, Chertok and McGagh were in the hangar bay, overseeing the weapons testing prior to the mission. The rat-a-tat of automatic rifle fire filled the hangar bay with deafening noise. Coloroso was test firing one of the Cleric S.B.R.s at a target wall which was covered with a layer of soft, ballistic foam-rubber. He was dressed in his full combat armour and had the protective visor of his helmet dropped over his face; after explicit instructions from McGagh to do so. When the firing ceased, the onlookers all took their fingers out of their ears and studied the result as Coloroso ejected the magazine from the smoking weapon and raised his visor.

‘Well, it’s shredded the simul-flesh foam,’ Noir observed. 'So, it should do the job on anything with soft flesh like ours.'

Chertok peeled back a section of the foam and studied what was beneath with interest. ‘Yes, and it’s also gone through the body armour that we placed underneath, but the rounds have disintegrated on contact with the section of steel hull. The steel has surface damage but no penetration.’

‘That should prevent anyone from popping holes in any of the underwater tunnels,’ said McGagh. ‘I am assuming we are going to be fighting in underwater tunnels, Sir?’

Noir looked uncertain. Even she hadn’t been told all the mission details yet.

‘I’m still waiting for the Captain to confirm that,’ Noir said evasively.

Just then, the man in question walked in to the hangar bay. He was accompanied by a worried looking Yasui. Trenchard nodded an acknowledgement to the others and came to a halt in front of the target wall.

‘How are the new rifles?’

‘They’ve checked out fine, Sir,’ Noir replied. ‘The trigger mechanism is a little clunky, but they’re much lighter and easier to manoeuvre in a tight space.’

‘Good. I want frangible ammo only to be used on mission, nothing armour piercing and no frag grenades. Understood?’

‘Aye Sir!’ they all chorused.

‘Better have a few flame throwers in each squad, and if we have any of those Wasp grenades left from the Onamuji mission, chuck them in too.’

‘May we know the details of the mission yet, Sir?’ Chertok asked.

‘Shortly,’ said Trenchard. ‘I want to see this special weapon that Papaver has sent us before I inform the crew of what we’re up against. Then I’ll call a mission briefing.’

Noir nodded. ‘This way, Sir.’

The group made their way over to the other side of the hangar bay where Davidson and the red-headed trooper were working on something complicated looking. Trenchard stopped as he saw the red-head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

‘P.O. Maw!’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell are you doing on my boat?’

Maw returned his stare with a sheepish glance and hung her head in shame.

‘I’m not a Petty Officer any more, Sir,’ she replied in her Australian twang. ‘I was thrown out of the E.T.F., Sir and demoted to L.S.’

‘Who by?’

‘Commander Mabius, Sir.’

‘Why?’

‘For letting you in to see the survivor in the hospital without his authorisation, Sir.’

Trenchard raised an eyebrow.

‘Mabius was pissed, was he?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘…and he took it out on you? Tough luck Maw.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘So how come you’re here?’

Maw shrugged. ‘I was drafted by Pap-Corp to assist L.S. Davidson here, Sir. Pap-Corp wanted another Technologist on this mission, because I understand Davidson’s specific requirements, Sir.’

‘Do you now?’ Trenchard said suspiciously as he eyed Davidson. He'd already been briefed by McGagh as to her diminutive size and so he allowed no shock to show. He simply treated her as he would any other trooper. ‘Well then L.S. Davidson. Show me this fabulous new piece of kit then.’

Davidson nodded and pulled on the corner of a tarpaulin that was covering a metal frame. As the tarp dropped, Commander Noir gasped and McGagh and Chertok took a step back, reacting purely out of instinct. Only Yasui looked on in fascination, her scientific curiosity taking over. What lay below the tarp, looked a little like the Morgenstern’s robotic frame. It was paired back and much more slim-line than the cyborg they had fought in the Kuiper belt, the overall imprint being no larger than McGagh. There was a hollow space at the centre that looked just about big enough for a child, or a very small adult, to fit inside.

‘This is the Pap-Corp, Powered Armour, Surveillance, Tactical and Offensive, Robotic prototype, or “Pastor” for short,’ she explained. ‘I’ve been a part of the development of this unit from the beginning. It has undergone extensive simulated testing, but this will be the first time it has seen real world combat.’

‘What the hell is it?’ McGagh asked distrustfully.

Davidson began to disengage several cables that ran from a nearby console and which were plugged into the Pastor’s rear. As she worked she narrated a well-rehearsed speech.

‘The problem with conventional power armour for what you would term “normal” sized troopers, is that by the time you’ve added all the tech on top of an average human frame, the armour is too big to fit inside most passageways aboard star-ships and space stations. That’s why power armour has never been used effectively in close quarters battle. It’s practically useless when boarding most pirate hulks. The Pastor bypasses those problems by having an operator of diminutive stature, in short, if you’ll pardon the pun, a dwarf.’

Davidson could see the expressions on the other’s faces, so she leapt in before anybody spoke.

‘Some people prefer the term “dwarf”, some people prefer “little people”. I’d rather you just used my name…’

‘I thought that dwarfism and proportionate dwarfism had been virtually eradicated by medical screening?’ Yasui asked in a matter of fact tone.

Davidson stopped what she was doing for a moment and stared intently at Yasui.

‘It has, but my parents didn’t care what sort of child they had. They just wanted a baby.’

Yasui dropped her head and bowed apologetically. ‘I meant no disrespect.’

‘None taken then,’ Davidson said coldly.

With help from Maw, Davidson climbed inside the robotic frame. It looked as though she had done so many times before and she slid into the cavity with ease. As Maw strapped Davidson’s legs into the legs of the robot, Davidson rolled up her sleeves. Each of her wrists had a metal tube embedded into it around the area of the Carpal tunnel. With creeping horror, Trenchard realised that he’d seen such a thing before, mounted into the wrist of Captain Maximillian Fisher.

‘You have two bio-plugs?’ Trenchard exclaimed.

Davidson nodded and pushed her arms into the arms of the robot. Two metal jack-plugs slid smoothly into the hollow bio-plugs. As Davidson gripped onto two triggered handles, a luminous green fluid began to pump from canisters at the back of the machine though clear tubes that wound through the robotic arms and connected to her bio-plug implants. As the green fluid reached her wrists, Davidson’s eyes rolled back in her skull and she groaned in ecstasy.

Maw looked up at Trenchard from her kneeling position and explained, ‘The bio-fluid allows the machine to connect directly to her brain. It forms a bridge between her nervous system and the electronic systems of the power suit. Unfortunately, it has a mildly euphoric effect when it first connects. The effect will wear off shortly.’

Even as Maw spoke, Davidson’s face became clearer. The whites of her eyes seemed to glow with a subtle green tinge. Faint black veins began to show around her eyes as her skin paled. With a click, the Pastor stepped forwards out of the frame that was supporting the exo-skeleton and Davidson stood proudly before the group.

‘Like traditional powered armour, the Pastor gives me enhanced strength and speed,’ she explained. ‘It also has a few other neat tricks.’

Davidson tensed and dropped into a crouch. Then she sprang into the air, spun one hundred and eighty degrees and came to a halt with a resounding clang, stuck like glue to the metal overhead.

‘It has enhanced mag-boots. It also has dampeners in the legs so that when I leap, the impact on landing doesn’t break every bone in my legs.’

To prove her point, she launched herself from the overhead and came to a rest with a thud on the deck in a crouching position. Then she straightened up and stomped over towards the group and raised her arms for them to see.

My right arm has an inbuilt Cleric S.B.R. which will be fitted with frangible ammo for this mission. My left arm has an inbuilt flame unit. Each robotic hand has a grip equivalent to ten times that of a human hand and is controlled by motion sensors that trace my own hand’s movement.’

She released the grips, wriggled her fingers and the machine followed her every move.

‘There are several other tools built into the forearms including a plasma cutter, powered wrench, hydraulic jaws…’

‘You’re a veritable Swiss army knife,’ Trenchard commented darkly.

‘I’ve saved the best until last,’ Davidson said smugly. ‘Maw, if you please.’

Maw pulled a tennis ball out from a box and offered it to Trenchard.

‘Sir, if you wouldn’t mind?’

Trenchard stared at the ball.

‘You want me to throw this?’

Maw nodded.

‘Are we playing fetch?’

‘No Sir, target practice,’ Maw grinned.

‘…and you expect me to believe that you can shoot this out of the air?’ he asked Davidson with a cynical expression.

She nodded.

‘Impossible,’ Noir scoffed. ‘Nobody can hit anything that small with a short-barrelled rifle, especially not a moving target!’

‘Throw it,’ Davidson commanded.

Trenchard scowled at Davidson, then he shrugged and took aim, over towards the far bulkhead where there was nothing that could be damaged. The ball arced through the air. Davidson followed the ball with her eyes and then her right arm simply appeared to aim of its own accord, completely subconsciously. She pulled the trigger and a short volley of frangible ammo tore the tennis ball out of the air, scattering fragments of rubber and green cloth across the deck. Everyone was suddenly very quiet.

‘The Pastor armour has W.Y.S.I.W.Y.K. targeting,’ she announced.

‘Come again?’ McGagh asked.

‘What you see is what you kill,’ Maw explained.

‘The suit is connected to my brain via the bio-plug. I simply have to look at what I want to shoot and the targeting system subconsciously moves my arm to aim. All I have to do is pull the trigger when I choose to.’

There was a dark silence from the onlookers which was eventually broken by Noir.

‘Imagine what you could do with a squad of those?’ Noir postulated.

‘Imagine what you could do with a whole platoon?’ Trenchard growled.

‘We’d be out of a job,’ Chertok said gloomily.

Trenchard studied the power armour for a long time before speaking again.

‘What protects you while you’re inside that thing?’

‘For battle, I’ll be wearing standard body armour, but there’s an extra plate that’s clipped to the machine and covers my vital organs. I’m not completely invulnerable, but this is not meant to be a tank. It merely augments my abilities as a trooper.’

‘You’re confident that this thing will work in battle?’

Davidson nodded eagerly. ‘I’ve tested it to destruction,’ she said. ‘…and further.’

‘…and you can go anywhere that an average sized trooper would be able to go?’

‘Yes. The machine is quite flexible. I’ve tested it climbing up the access ladders inside a Wolverine. It can fit into most crawlspaces that any human could, except some of the tighter snipe tubes.’

Trenchard eyeballed Davidson for a minute longer before eventually saying a terse, ‘Welcome aboard.’ Then he turned to Noir and Yasui. ‘Before we lock on to our carrier ship, gather the platoon. I think it’s time I told them what we’re up against. I want them to be ready for this one. It’s going to take us over a week just to get there. That’s plenty of time for them to prepare. They’ll want to send messages home to their loved ones.’

‘Aye, aye Sir!’ said both Noir and Yasui.

Then Trenchard stomped away.

‘I need a coffee. Notify me when you’re ready for me.’