A Web Serial by M.C.A. Hogarth
| 13. Peaches. | 15. Chow. |
|---|
14. Paradigms
Testing Facility. There are multiple dummy targets in this room (crab-shaped) and a great deal of equipment. Samuel-Colt gives Spots a glove with a shield-generator, then picks up a clipboard.
Interrogative rising glide. "You were there also, mother's-escort?"
"Uh, yes, sir."
"The sir is not necessary... ours is a peer relationship. Since you were present, please speak freely when you have pertinent observations. Your views may be important." Samuel-Colt glances at Peaches. Another glide, this one longer and more gradual. "That is well with you Lieutenant-Savannah-Bonnet?"
"Yes, that's fine. Oblige him, Corporal, if you have anything relevant to add."
"Will do, ma'am."
Low drone. "Very good. Please proceed, Mother-soldier."
Spots demonstrates, slicing the targets. Samuel-Colt follows her with a clipboard, bent over her.
"So you are contracting the field's edge and using the bottom curve?"
"I... yes, I think so."
"By how great a margin?"
"I... don't know, I wasn't thinking about it. I guess short enough for my arm to handle?"
"Are you willing to demonstrate again?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then permit me a moment." Samuel-Colt removes a clipper from the back of his clipboard and chops off two fingertips. He pops them into his mouth, crunches once and they're gone. Then he wiggles the new, shorter fingers, which have small visible holes at the ends. "Continue."
Claws. "Jesus Christ! What the **** was that?"
Kenyan. "You get used to it."
Spots looks up at the alien, pained. "Doesn't that hurt?"
Reassuring, alternating two notes. "No, Mother-soldier. And it allows me to better feel the shield resonances. I will be able to gauge their length myself from the sound. Please continue? More slowly. I will hold my hand near you."
"All right. Of course."
They run through the demonstration again.
"Uh, I have an observation. A more relevant one than my last one."
Peaches. "Go ahead."
"This demo's not replicating the actual situation very well. You may be getting different data than you want."
Spots, frowning. "I think he's right, but sparring with this thing... it cuts through armor. I don't want to hurt anyone by accident!"
Samuel-Colt. Quick, excited notes. "That concern can be addressed if your partner is willing to wear a shield tuned off-key to yours. You will not be able to penetrate."
Claws is about to speak, but the gunny beats him to it. "I'll do it."
Ten minutes later after modificaton of the second generator, the two of them face off.
"Now don't feel weird about this, Guitart. Just cut loose. I can take it."
"Are you sure...?"
"Positive."
Spots takes a deep breath... and goes for him. Samuel-Colt lunges after her, waving his hands in the periphery of their frenzied activity. She does not hold back or stop until the alien speaks.
"Good! Enough, thank you."
Peaches, frowning. "Strange to watch an armed fight with nothing to show you where the weapon is."
Gunny. "There's a rim of light when the cutting edge comes through, but it's quick."
Peaches. "So... this whole... novel use of the shield is because of the edge?"
Samuel-Colt. Tense, interested trill. "That is correct. Also, the rapid modulation of size. The mother's-escort was correct to change the parameters of the demonstration. The live-fight test was very different."
Peaches. "I'm not sure of the utility of using the shields this way. You'd need so much training to do it properly and then to coordinate it with your squadmates. What would be the advantage, weighed against that?"
Gunny, looking at Spots. "Why'd you do it this way, Guitart?"
Spots. "Um... instead of using the gun?"
"Yeah."
"I... I don't know." She chews her lip, frowning. "Maybe I didn't want to hit him? Rounds that pierce crab-armor do for ours as well."
Claws. "If I may?" They look at him. "I think she did it because the shield engages more of the enemy simultaneously. Look..." He drags three of the foam targets together. They tower over him by several feet. "If I'm standing here... right up in their faces... and I shoot one..." He points his finger at the belly of one target. "I don't have time to swing it far enough to engage the second target when they're this close. But the shield in weapon-shape—" He lifts his arm, elbow out and forearm parallel to the ground. "—that hits all three of them at the same time. And in shield-shape, it'll do a whole 180 bubble, nearly."
Peaches, musing. "It's a better weapon if you're in the middle of them."
Claws. "I surely wouldn't want to be shootin' crab-piercing rounds at point-blank myself, ma'am."
Spots, wide-eyed. "I... I don't think I was thinking all of that, Claws."
" 'Course not. You ain't doin' calculus when you catch a ball, but you'd need the math to describe the act. You don't have to know how to talk 'bout what you're doin' to do it." He looks at Samuel-Colt. "Look, so we get these shields and you tell us they're for sniper-shieldin' only, because the bullets passing through from the inside degrade the shield, right?"
Slow, thoughtful glide, falling. "That is correct. The interruptions are too abrupt, far more abrupt than humans brushing against them. That is why you can tap the inside with your finger but firing through it drains the power cell."
"I'll pretend I get the theory there. More important, though... two shields as shields work together, we do that already. Can two shields work together when one is being used as a weapon? Like, say... if Spots here's got the full half-bubble, can I slide my cutting edge through hers to hit what's coming?"
Samuel-Colt, studying Claws. He doesn't make any music at all. "Yesss... that should be possible. The shields are constructed to harmonize... that is why I had to re-tune the shield for the Mother-soldier's fighting partner."
Peaches. "I see where you're going with that, Corporal. But it would still take a lot of training."
Claws. "Maybe so, ma'am. Still, it's an alternative."
Peaches eyes him, speculatively. "So it is." To Samuel-Colt. "Is that enough, sir? These two need their down-time."
Samuel-Colt. Quick arpeggio, falling. "Yes, thank you. I have a great deal to consider."
"Very good. Gunny, can you walk them to the Door?"
"Will do, ma'am."
Spots. "Goodbye, Samuel-Colt. And nice to meet you, Mr. Kenyan."
"Fare well, mother-soldier." A pause. A quick, almost laughing arpeggio, up first, then down. "The fingers will grow back."
Spots laughs. "I'm glad to hear it!"
Back in the barracks.
"Can you sleep an hour?"
"Oh, yes."
"All right, I'll leave the light off then. No way I can put my head down that long and get anythin' out of it."
"Hey, Claws? The lieutenant was very impressed with you, I think."
"Aw shucks, Spots. She ain't my type. I like 'em older."
"Claws! That's not what I m—"
"Don't worry though, I'm not into brunettes. I prefer 'em red."
"You're terrible, Claws."
"Don't I know it. Night, Spots."
Claws turns the light off. In the dark, he puts a hand to his brow. Shortly after he whispers a curse. Spots opens her eyes a crack at the sound, but doesn't ask.
| 13. Peaches. | 15. Chow. |
|---|
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