Vanguard Word Update

2k words

***

It was a needle.

-xXx-

Over the next week the exercise drills and study sessions blended together for Cadell. This wasn’t to say he was inattentive or hated fitness, however. He had gone through a similar routine back home, all of them had, and the officers took this into account, trusting the platoon to keep themselves fit on their own initiative, rather than force them into the gym and swimming pool facilities around the quadrant.

This routine of blending days was broken towards the end of the first week, when Cadell’s squad and a few others were to report to Marek for a special assignment. He thought they might finally get some time to explore the rest of the Hub, but instead the Lieutenant led them deeper into the training grounds, through the walkways flanked by trees towards one of the buildings they hadn’t been in yet. Through the windows Cadell could hear a sound not dissimilar from firecracker pops.

They waited for an engineer to trolley a crate through the main door, the man in the overalls giving Samiha a wide-eyed look, then the Lieutenant led them through. While they were becoming more familiar to the quadrant personnel, the aliens were still given the odd look. Kazlu didn’t seem to mind, always returning said looks with a smile. On the other hand, Samiha voiced her annoyance on more than one occasion.

“You humans have known about us for months, now. Must they stare at every opportunity?” she’d asked, not really directing it to anyone in particular. Cadell remembered giving her that exact same look on his first day – perhaps that was why she was so prickly towards him?

As they walked through the doors after the rest of the group, this train of thought subsided as those firecracker bangs rose into absurd volumes. They were coming from the right side of a room, the halves divided by a tall wall. A huge firing range occupied that side, flanked on this side by a line of firing booths, some of which were occupied. The uniformed men shot guns of strange design at paper targets hanging from rails, the bullets ripping through and hitting the far wall, which looked like it was made from giant pillows of grey rubber, the padding there to keep them from blowing holes in the station.

On the left half were weapon racks, and while Cadell was familiar with guns, he’d never seen this kind of armament before. Tens of workbenches gave that half of the look of a workshop, more soldiers standing before their laid-out weapons as they replaced fresh parts and adjusted scopes.

Marke brought them over to a vacant bench. The wall muffled the gunshots a little, but he still had to raise his voice for everyone to hear him.

“Everyone hear me? Good. I know you’ve all been trained with firearms in your basic courses, but you’re in an Alliance facility now, and our armaments a little different from anything you’d find on the colonies.”

The Lieutenant walked over to a locker, and pulled out a rifle, moving back to lay it on the table. Cadell could see how the barrel and the trigger made it look like an assault rifle, but the frame was made from some sort of blue plastic, with exposed metal pieces framed by yellow warning strips. He’d never seen anything like this before.

“This is a coilgun,” Marek said, the groups shuffling closer for a better look. Samiha and Kazlu didn’t have trouble seeing, they towered over the rest of them. “In the past, these were only used by officer guardsman serving on capital ships, but with material support from the Outer Reaches, the Hub has the resources to produce coilguns enmasse. The Alliance has standardized this particular armament, and I expect you all to become proficient with it.”

That explained why Cadell wasn’t allowed to bring his weapon with him to the Hub. Marek lifted the weapon, flipping it over so everyone could see both sides.

“Coilguns fire six-point-five-millimeter tungsten slugs at one kilometer per second, meaning the effective range is varied by the eye of the user. The stopping power comes from the electromagnets on the barrel, here.”

Cadell watched as he dismantled the protective covering of the hexagonal barrel, exposing the wireframe. The tube was wrapped in a copper-coloured spring, but on second glance they were actually individual rings spaced along the length.

“Unlike traditional ballistic armaments, coilguns are electronically powered by a battery case, here.” Marek moved to the side of the trigger guard, stripping that part of the weapon next, taking out the power bank. “On the field you will carry an extra two of these along with the rest of your gear, in the event of a malfunction. Now, the magazine.”

The trigger guard was placed in front of the magazine well, giving the coilgun the look of a bullpup, and soon there were dozens off little components arranged along the bench. “All coilgun mags are universally compatible, which means any trooper on the field can swap ammo with another. Spare parts and batteries are interchangeable, too.”

Now the weapon was little more than a frame wrapped in little strips of wires, almost unrecognizable. “There is one caveat however,” Marek said. “Firing a bullet at such highs speeds and ranges comes at a cost. Anyone guess what that is?”

Marek waited for an answer, the group muttering non-committal answers. Cadell was surprised when it was Samiha who answered.

“Heat,” she said.

“That’s right,” Marek said, giving her an impressed nod. “We have semi and fully automatic settings on the platform, but sustaining fire for more than a few seconds runs the risks of melting the barrel, but the eggheads have given us a solution.”

He picked up the dismantled barrel. There was a divot where the user would place their hand, lined with cushioning, and in front of it were four small caps, each covered in those yellow warning stripes, and about the size of a cork.

“These are heat sinks,” Marek explained, encouraging them to be passed around the group. “should they start to glow a bright yellow colour, that means your weapon is overheating, and they need to be switched out. Just like swapping a mag, swapping your sinks for fresh ones will be a timely drawback, but the tradeoff is having one of the most powerful infantry weapons to date.”

He demonstrated how to ‘reload’ a sink. First there was an ejector switch near the trigger, the sinks popping free of the barrel and tumbling to the bench. Marek then produced a small slip of metal with four holes in it, and in each one was another sink, the Lieutenant slapping it against the underbarrel. It was like an autoloader for a revolver, designed to fit perfectly into the caps, which would be easier and quicker than fitting them in by hand.

“Just because I’m showing you this, doesn’t mean you should try it with burnt sinks,” Marek said. “As long as you’re in my armory today, I don’t want to see any of you burn your sinks into the yellow. You’ll melt your foot off if you try unloading it, or worse, melt a gap through the deck, and God protect any of you who manage that. Understood?”

Marek then went to work reassembling the weapon, sliding home every little piece, finishing his work when he slapped the magazine home. Despite the many different components, the finished product was a compact, streamlined thing, the shape of the hexagonal barrel and the molded pieces of the polymer giving it a clean look.

 “I hope none of you are limp-wrists, because these things have a kick that make anti-material’s feel like toys, but I’ll let you discover it for yourselves. Now, your task today is simple. Grab a build from that rack over there and get some practice in. We have everything here if you want to tailor your weapon the way you want. Scopes, grips, laser sights, plenty of attachments to tweak to your needs. We even different barrel and stocks for those of you who want something more compact, or heavier, but don’t worry about that just yet. Once I’m confident your squad can shoot straight, we’ll get to dismantling and building your weapons to your tastes. Let’s move, people.”

The squads fanned out, eager to get their hands on some weaponry. As Cadell, Hunter, and Kurtis made off, their two alien cohorts were stopped by the Lieutenant.

“We’ve got something a little more suited to your needs, recruits. Over here.”

“Did the Kith’sla bring our laser rifles?” Samiha asked, following him over to a different table.

“Beam weapons have been found to be inferior to the coilgun,” Marek answered. “And the Alliance can’t manufacture both Balokarid parts and coilguns, so you can forget about those things while you’re here.”

“But Sir,” Samiha began. “Our weapons compliment our tactics. Without them-”

“You’re training in Alliance tactics, Samiha. Not your own. As long as you’re in this program, the coilgun is your choice of weapon. Understood?”

Samiha’s feathers bristled, she looked like she wanted to complain, but she held her tongue. Cadell watched in amazement as Marek pulled out an oversized coilgun from a specially-coloured locker. It looked giant in his hands, even the Lieutenant struggling to lift it into Samiha’s hands.

“I’d recommend keeping to single-fire mode,” Marek said. “if I understand correctly, lasers don’t exactly have much recoil. Come to me or your squad if you need help adjusting.”

“We will be fine,” Samiha said, turning away without waiting to be dismissed. Kazlu followed with her own, larger coilgun, the five of them linking up and proceeding to the range.

“What was that about lasers?” Cadell asked, directing his question to Samiha.

“Our hard-light technology is a staple in our military,” she explained. “but your Lieutenant seems to think it isn’t even worth considering.”

“I don’t know much about lasers,” Cadell said. “but doesn’t every lick of dust and particle in a beam dilute the heat or somethin’?”

“A simplified explanation, but you’re not wrong,” Samiha replied. “but our weapons worked well enough during the battle in the Folium Nebula, but now we can’t use them here? I don’t see the point.”

“Well, that was a ship-to-ship battle, right? Your lasers probably had way bigger battery banks, and that don’t exactly translate to handheld weapons. Ballistic weapons work just fine, just give it a shot – pardon my pun,” he added with a chuckle, but Samiha didn’t laugh.

“If I must…”

There were five vacant booths at the far end of the range, Cadell slipping on a pair of earmuffs as he stepped between the dividers. There was a desk for room to place one’s weapon and ammo, along with a control panel that could adjust the targets, the max setting being two hundred meters. It wasn’t a very big distance, but every inch of space had to be used properly on a station like this.

Cadell set his first shot at fifty meters, the rail in the ceiling descending a target shaped in the vague outline of a human. He braced the thick padding of the stock against his shoulder, peering through the reflex sight he’d attached to the coilgun earlier.

He flicked off the safety, then squeezed off a shot. There was a loud, electronic crack as the muzzle of the gun rocked, Cadell swearing he could hear the hiss of a static chasing after. The paper target flapped at the side as a hole punched through the chest. Marek wasn’t fooling around, the recoil had felt like a solid punch to the arm.