Uplift (7 page)

The ceramic armor had cracked, and the beam almost penetrated. I was surprised the polished stainless steel had been penetrated. Corey?

It’s the dust in the air that carbonizes at the surface, and the multiple pulses again form a standing wave that forces through the material knocked off the surface.

What happens to flesh? I thought.

Clean through, and through wounds. After the beams go through the first two bodies – the beam spreads out a bit, and you get a colloidal explosion in the third where the steam blasts the body apart.

…An artillery round close up does that, I told Corey, but he could see the memory images that recalled. Could we design a small device that was man portable that would explode incoming artillery, and mortar fire? These laser can’t do indirect fire so we need to protect against that, and…how about a better hand grenade. The design flowed into my head, and I grabbed at two of the designs. Those are doable. Let’s make those two. I do need to know what we’ll be facing from the alien horde – I suppose that info comes later.

Quite
, Corey thought in a British accent.

You can think in different accents? I thought.

(Chuckle)

FORT BRAGG

“Where did these things come from Sarge? Hope it isn’t like the last batch of stuff we got.”

“Chill Komenski. Just see what you can hit with this thing. We got water jugs, cars, drums of gas, concrete block walls, and blocks of ballistic gel …the fun stuff,” said the sergeant.

Komenski sighted at the ballistic gel – it literally exploded, and ripped off the tabletop it was lying on.

“Whoa! I like this Sarge. No recoil. What next?” Komenski asked.

“Flip that switch on the side, and hold down the trigger. See what it’ll do to that concrete block wall.”

Komenski sighted at the wall that was about 250 meters downrange. He flipped the gun to continuous pulse mode, and held the trigger back as he swung his aim across the block wall. The wall was simply disintegrated. The squad from the 3
^rd
SFG let out a big yell. “Damn Sarge. What next?”

“Squad weapons on target. Fire until you are out of ammo, or I declare ceasefire.
  Squad Ready. Aim. Fire.”

The squad fired for a good four minutes without running out of fuel.

“Ceasefire!” yelled the sergeant, and he could be heard above the whip crack of the lasers.

The targets of old cars, and poured concrete were shredded.

“Oorah!” yelled the troops.

“What do you slackers think?” the sergeant yelled.

The men started hooting, and whistling.

“Komenski. How much left in your reservoir?” the sergeant shouted.

“Little under one-half sergeant,” he replied. “What’s next sergeant?”

“We have the piece de resistance. Mister Frank Wordley here has been loaned to us from the company that makes these little toys. They have one more toy for us today, but they don’t have many of these yet. He is a twenty-year vet from Sigma Max. This is a shoulder-fired rail gun. It accelerates a sabot round of aluminum with a depleted uranium core to about eleven times the speed of sound. Its magazine holds one hundred rounds, and it takes 1.2 seconds between shots. They are trying to speed that up a little, but it may be adequate. The gun is a little heavier, and the sights range from 100 to 2,000 meters,” the sergeant explained.

“Sights start at 100 meters because you don’t want to be any closer to the target. Questions – while we are waiting for a target?” Word asked.

“Are the rounds explosive? Why are they depleted uranium?”

“No explosives. Rounds carry a tremendous amount of kinetic energy. The heavier rounds recoil a lot even with the oil buffers. You can use solid aluminum slugs in a pinch, plus you can carry more of those. We are getting an appropriate target at 1,000 meters,” Word said. An old, Type 99 Chinese main battle tank was towed onto the range to emphasize his statement. “Fellows – I’m going to shoot this one. They’ve been working me 14 hours a day for the last month, and I am going to take out my anger on that tank. Do I have a spotter? How about the corporal with the questions? Yes – you’ll get to shoot it next,” Word said, and the soldier hustled over.

“Looks like 1,000 meters. Wind at 10-12 knots. How about trying for somewhere on the turret?” the soldier with the binoculars said. “We’re given the all clear.”

“Fire in the hole, fire in the hole, fire in the hole,” Word shouted, and took the shot followed by two more in quick succession.

“Shall we sergeant?” Word said, and got the nod from me.

“Squad – move out,” and the men fell into positions for a daytime patrol. They carried live ammo unlike regular units who weren’t trusted with live ammo when leaving the range. Word liked these guys. The walk past the ‘shot up’ cars was enlightening.

Word heard some saying, “Wouldn’t have wanted to have been using those for cover.”

Komenski had recorded the effects on his cell phone. The first shot had rocked the tank with the round hitting the turret piercing it, and leaving a huge hole on the inside of the crew compartment. The second hit had penetrated the side reactive armor, and punched a large hole. The third round just below the turret, and ripped the turret completely off the tank.

The sergeant moved up beside Word. How long before my boys get these for duty? …AcuMint is using gasoline instead of ammunition? Those laser pulse rifles hardly got hot in continuous firing.”

“Write the manuals for them. Send me the file. Also send a detailed report up the chain of command. Do the same with the stun pistols. Look for problems – what you like, and dislike about them – what we should change – we’ll fix the problems,” Word said. “My boss, Richard Patterson, said this is the tip of the iceberg, and he was now free to create. He wants the US military to have first dibs. You guys will get the first of anything that looks good.”

“You know this stuff will get out, and we’ll have to fight it,” the major who was observing said to Word.

He knows Major. He knows, thought the sergeant.

“We have some very effective armor that works against kinetic, and energy weapons. We are working to make them powered with a version of the guns’ power supplies. Richard wanted all the weapons to run off the same plentiful supplies,” said Word.

The sergeant turned to Word. “I will make sure the sergeant major knows. Are these things going to be on the general market? Will the private companies be able to get hold of them?”

“Sorry Sergeant. We are manufacturing these in several countries already on contract. The Chinese are particularly active in their assembly though many of the components come from Euro countries. You better press to get these. We will give you brother-in-law prices with all spares since y’all are writing the manuals. Ten percent above cost – roughly your ammo costs for the M8s. We will give you the defenses to them at near cost also, but you need to get it up the chain-of-command.”

                                           ****

Anderson was livid. “We need to get those ATF inspectors in there again. This can’t go on. This…traitor is giving other nations the ability to kick our ass.”

Jeb Johnson was in Anderson’s department, and on a level –
par in National Security. 
He didn’t see the problem. “He is offering these weapons almost at cost to our country. How does that make him a traitor?”

“You don’t see do you? He has given a weapon to the unwashed hordes that can defeat our troops. You don’t see that as a problem? Are you one of them?” Anderson asked.

“Steve. Where do you get off making this guy a bad guy? He has ALWAYS fought for us, or for our interests, and when he retires he comes up with new weapons, and offers them to us first – before anyone else in the world – to us. He lets our guys write the manuals. He asks our guys what they want, and designs stuff just for them. How the FUCK does that make him a traitor?” Jeb asked.

“Did you see how he treated that ATF agent? That video went viral, and hurt the reputation of that agency?” Anderson said.

“Geez Steve. That agent was WAY out of line. HE wasn’t manufacturing any firearms…none…nada. That agent was a flaming asshole. He was way out of line…threatening our guy. What are you thinking?” Jeb said. “You need to back off.”

“Don’t think so champ. You’ll see this guy is dirty. Doing business with the Chinese…” Anderson said.

“Have you looked at the labels in your shirts, on your radios, on your ammo? What are you thinking?” Jeb asked.

Anderson didn’t say more, and just walked away. He knew he was doing his best for the country. This guy was dirty, and he’d prove it if he had to invent it.

Richard was out shopping for the inordinate amount of organic food he had had to eat lately. His body was still developing, and his vision, and hearing were acute now. He could see like an eagle, and hear like an elephant. He was three times as strong as a normal athlete his size, and he had a biological age of about 20 now even though his hair had streaks of gray. He was not prescient however, and did not recognize anything was wrong with the van next to his car in the parking lot.

Richard heard the car doors opening nearby, and looked up as two Taser dart pairs hit him. He dropped to the ground, but it didn’t help. He was thrown into the van; zip tied, and trundled off. A black sack was shoved over his head, and as he regained consciousness he felt an injection administered roughly, and he lost consciousness. He regained consciousness in a cell with a 3-centimeter foam mattress in a 3-meter square cell with a stainless steel toilet. He was wearing a one-piece jumpsuit.

Corey said.
I did not see that coming. Sorry I couldn’t warn you.

What’s going on? Damn – terrorists? Mob? What?

Looks like National Security…a guy named Steve Anderson. He’s a megalomaniac that thinks he’s protecting his country. Have no idea why he has a hard on for you. You are in a Fort Bragg stockade cell meant for terrorists. He had his National Security guys take you. I am currently getting the names of those involved, and they intend to torture you to find out whom you’ve been conspiring with in China. They intend to waterboard you in a few minutes…oh…names of the two involved in the waterboarding are…James Kirkpatrick (he’s really tall, and Mal Samms – the short muscular one). Anderson will be watching. How do you want to play this…?

Can you stop my heart, and respiration long enough for them to think I am dead?

No problem. Start deep breathing right now, and I will oxygenate your blood. Dying immediately ought to be a good lesson for them. Should I email the sergeant of the Special Forces Group, and let him know what is going on? There is a strong Wi-Fi signal here.

Sure – do that. Let’s see what happens. We’ll try other stuff if they don’t do anything. They have a hundred of our stun pistols don’t they.

Yes. (Chuckle) Sorry. I should have anticipated this anal effect.

No problem. We’ll see how long this lasts. I HAVE to do better on my protection in the future though – foreign interests will be in play shortly.

The door to the cell slammed open, and two men stood there.

“James Kirkpatrick, and Mal Samms. So this is my welcome to Fort Bragg,” I said, and the men were taken aback, but grabbed me, put a sack over my head again, and dragged me out of the cell. They never hit me, but jerked me around, and laid me down on my back with my head lower than my feet. “I don’t recommend you do this for Steve Anderson. I am a patriot, and this will not help.”

“Tell us who you are dealing with in China,” asked a voice that was Mal Samms.

“Happy too Samms, but I don’t recommend this method,” I responded, and at that point the water cascaded over my face. I didn’t fight trying to breathe – just relaxed, and allowed Corey to stop my heart, and respiration.

“He’s not fighting. What the fuck Jim? This guy isn’t breathing. Fuck. I can’t detect a heartbeat. He knew our names, and where he was. What the fuck is going on? He’s not breathing. Do CPR god damn it.”

“I’m not kissing this guy. You do it,” said Mal.

Jim knocked Mal aside, and started to get in a position to do CPR.

I came to full consciousness, and addressed Jim. “Appreciate you not wanting me to die, Jim when all you have to do is ASK me what you need to know. Do you think Steve Anderson would protect you if I died? Really. I gave the 3
^rd
SFG first trials on the weapons I designed, let them write the manuals, and am giving them first dibs on the defenses to those weapons. I am NOT giving the defenses to other countries. How does that make me a traitor? You sure you want to go through with this clusterfuck for an admin weenie that doesn’t give a damn about you?”

There was a long pause while the two men looked at each other. Mal Samms jerked my mask off, and cut the flexcuffs off my wrists.

He started to say something, and I held up my hand, “Look guys. No harm – no foul. Tell that Anderson …nevermind. I’m hiring as soon as your tour is up…not for Anderson mind you, but I need more good people that can think.”