The Plains of Pluto - Chapter 21

Factorium

“Empress,” Hortensius said to Lucilla, and she and her guards were ushered around into the firing range. “Your timing is perfect. We’ve just completed our final checks.”

She could smell the harsh scent of spent powder, suggesting he’d already been testing the weapon this morning, which was good. The news from the front had not been good lately, and they needed this weapon out of testing and into the hands of the men as quickly as possible.

“I trust this demonstration will prove more successful than our last, Hortensius.”

She did not intend for the statement to come out as caustic as it had, but it was hard to keep her concerns from clouding everything she said.

“Without question, Your Majesty. The problems we encountered were entirely in the cartridge manufacturing, not the weapon itself, and they have been sorted.”

“Good. Then let’s proceed with the demonstration?” Lucilla asked.

“Indeed. Manius, if you would.”

Several Praetorians and assistants had been standing off to the side when she’d arrived. One of them stepped forward when called, taking position at the table. He lifted the rifle, checking its mechanisms briefly before loading cartridges into the magazine and moving to the fire line. Bringing the rifle to his shoulder, feet planted in a stable stance, he took aim at the nearest row of wooden silhouettes positioned thirty paces downrange.

He paused, looking to Hortensius.

“Ready when you are,” the manufacturer said.

Turning back, Manius fired the first shot, the loud crack splitting the air and startling Lucilla, even though she knew it was coming. Without lowering the weapon, he worked the lever mechanism, sending a brass cartridge cartwheeling out of the weapon, landing a few steps away.

A thump could be heard downrange with each shot as a hole appeared in the wooden silhouette.

As soon as the lever clicked closed, he fired. Then he repeated the process again, fire and lever, fire and lever, in a steady rhythm. Seven shots, seven holes in the target, all within the span of fifteen seconds.

She’d seen this once, of course, but that time the weapon had jammed after a few shots, even after being broken down and reassembled.

This time, there was no such delay.

As with that demonstration, she was impressed by how quickly it fired. Seven shots in fifteen seconds was much faster than the three shots a minute their best legionnaires could manage now.

“Impressive, although I do remember it firing all seven rounds in one of the last demonstrations as well.”

Hortensius smiled. “Watch.”

Manius lowered the rifle, reached for the ammunition box, extracted seven fresh cartridges, and fed them into the bottom of the weapon. The entire process took less than twenty seconds.

“From empty to fully loaded in under half a minute,” Hortensius said. “In battlefield conditions, perhaps slightly longer, but still remarkably fast compared to our current rifles.”

Once more, Manius brought the weapon to his shoulder and fired. Seven more shots rang out in rapid succession. Seven more targets showed impact marks. Not a single misfire or jam interrupted the sequence.

“We’ve conducted over three thousand test firings with the refined design,” Hortensius said. “The failure rate is less than one in five hundred, which is unfortunately impossible to eliminate entirely, and is about the rate of failures for primers in our current rifles as well.”

“Good,” Lucilla said.

Hortensius motioned to another Praetorian. “I did want to add a bit to the demonstration. Avitus here has never fired the rifle before today. He received basic instruction this morning, fired it once, and that’s it. You’re aware how long it takes to teach new recruits to load and fire the weapon in a reasonable amount of time. I think, beyond the direct benefit on the battlefield, once these are generally in service it should also help decrease the amount of time needed to train the men. By a bit at least.”

Lucilla nodded thoughtfully. With their manpower consideration and all the conscripts about to enter service, that would be helpful.

The second Praetorian took Manius’s place at the firing line. His handling of the weapon lacked the grace of his more experienced counterpart, but he loaded more rounds without difficulty.

“The targets at sixty paces, if you please,” Hortensius instructed.

Avitus raised the rifle and fired at the more distant row of targets. His first shot missed, but he quickly adjusted his aim. The next six rounds all struck their targets. A little slower and with somewhat less precision Manius had demonstrated, but hits nonetheless.

“Most importantly,” Hortensius continued, “the rifle’s operation is intuitive enough that soldiers familiar with our current weapons can quickly master it. A few days of training should suffice for basic proficiency.”

Avitus reloaded and fired a series of rounds, this time hitting all seven targets.

“The rate of fire is about four times that of our current rifles.”

Avitus finished his demonstration and stepped back from the firing line. Hortensius turned to the third target range, where human-shaped silhouettes stood way in the distance, right up against a high, dirt berm meant to stop missed bullets.

“Those targets are over a thousand paces away. Manius, if you please.”

Manius returned to the firing line, loaded more rounds into the weapon, and took aim at the distant targets. It was impossible to tell what happened with the naked eye. Hortensius picked up a spyglass from the table and handed it to her. It took Lucilla a moment to find the target, but when she did, she was able to make out a neat hole in the center of the wooden figure.

Manius continued firing, working the lever with remarkable speed. As she watched, three more found the target. The remaining must have missed, but it was hard to see with where they impacted through the spyglass.

“The rifle’s effective range is about the same as the current rifles, although I’m to understand the new powder Sorantius is working on will greatly extend that,” Hortensius said, and then looked at Cynwrig, who’d been standing a few steps behind Lucilla. “Captain, would you care to try the weapon? As someone with no prior experience with this particular design, your assessment would be valuable.”

Cynwrig looked to Lucilla, who nodded her approval. He stepped forward, accepting the rifle from Manius with the careful respect of a veteran warrior handling an unfamiliar weapon.

“The loading process is straightforward,” Hortensius explained, demonstrating the procedure. “Insert the cartridges here, pointed end forward, and then slide the next one in behind it, and so on.”

Cynwrig loaded seven cartridges into the magazine, his fingers hesitating between each round. Unlike the demonstrators, he was much slower in loading the rounds. Even still, he got them all in within maybe thirty seconds.

“The lever serves two purposes,” Hortensius explained to him. “When pulled down and forward, it ejects the spent cartridge and cocks the hammer. When returned to position, it chambers a new round.”

Cynwrig nodded, then raised the rifle to his shoulder. He squinted down the sights at the closest target and squeezed the trigger. The rifle’s recoil jerked his shoulder back. He blinked once, then worked the lever down with a stiff motion. Brass ejected to the side as the mechanism clicked. By his third shot, his hand moved the lever in one smooth motion, the mechanism flowing from fire to reload without pause.

All seven rounds struck their targets. Though half as fast as the first Manius, Cynwrig was still able to empty the weapon in under thirty seconds, a fraction of the time needed with a muzzle-loading rifle.

“Your impressions, Captain?” Lucilla asked.

Cynwrig hefted the rifle, testing its weight and balance. “Yes, I am impressed. It’s lighter than our current rifle, and much easier to use since it’s not so long. The balance is good, although being able to use that weapon as a spear in moments of combat was a noticeable advantage.”

“And maybe not needed since you can fire the weapon so much more quickly,” Hortensius pointed out. “But, we have also developed a new bayonet for it. Yes, it doesn’t have the reach of the current rifle, but you also aren’t facing phalanx spears any longer either.”

Cynwrig shrugged and handed the weapon back to Hortensius.

Hortensius offered, holding it out to her as well. “Would you care to try the rifle yourself, Your Majesty?”

Lucilla considered the offer. As Empress, she rarely handled weapons, though Ky had taught her to shoot over the last several years, just in case she ever found herself in need.

Also because she enjoyed the experience.

“I would.”

Hortensius smiled and checked the mechanism personally, quickly clearing it before loading new rounds into it and presenting the rifle to her.

“Loaded and ready, Your Majesty. Simply aim and squeeze the trigger. Be prepared for the recoil.”

Lucilla accepted the weapon, bringing the stock to her shoulder and taking the stance Ky had showed her. She could hear Cynwrig let out a wry chuckle as he did every time she showed how capable she was. She drew a breath, aimed the rifle down the barrel as she’d been taught, and squeezed the trigger.

The rifle kicked against her shoulder harder than expected. Through dissipating smoke, she saw her shot had struck the target near its edge.

“Well struck,” Hortensius said. “Now work the lever to chamber the next round.”

Lucilla pulled the lever down and forward. The mechanism ejected the spent cartridge with a satisfying click. She pushed the lever back, feeling resistance as it chambered a new round.

Her second shot landed closer to center. By the fifth round, she found her rhythm with the lever action, though each recoil challenged her smaller frame. She hit the target with all seven rounds.

“Remarkable,” she said, lowering the weapon.

Her shoulder was a little sore as she handed it back to Hortensius, and she knew she would feel that in the morning, but it had been an exhilarating experience. Lucilla handed the rifle back to Hortensius, who immediately began disassembly.

“Begin full production immediately. As soon as you have enough to justify it, I want it added onto whatever shipment is headed to frontline units in Germania and Greece. Make sure you send someone along with it to explain how it works. I know Ky will be there, but just in case.”

“As you command. We’ve already got one line set up for them, and I will be adding additional within the next week.”

“Good. Don’t wait on any approvals. Just do what you have to do to get these to the front. This weapon may determine the outcome of the war.”

***

Devnum

Claudius and three of his Praetorians crouched against the wall in the shaded alley as the freight train from the Factorium pulled into the station, steam erupting from the locomotive’s valves. It was a good position, with a clear view of the unloading area but just far enough away to keep him out of sight of the casual viewers.

He and his men each wore the types of clothes favored by dock workers instead of the uniform he normally took so much pride in.

After stopping the warehouse manager’s arrangement for getting military supplies out of Factorium, Claudius had been sure another system would open up. The manager hadn’t been nearly smart enough to be behind the smuggling operation himself, which meant whoever was would eventually find another middleman.

Sadly, the person behind it was smart enough to use a series of cutouts to pay him, so even the names the manager had given them ended up going nowhere.

Claudius had been right. After a few weeks they’d started noticing more armaments going missing. This time, it was packers, who were adding in additional pieces into crates that should be there and loading them. He and his men had been watching the works for weeks, and had witnessed them being unloaded on the other end and, where the marked crates would have the extra pieces removed, resealed, and then sent on their way.

Last time, he’d stepped in because he thought he could turn the manager and work him up to his boss. Something Medb had been very good at doing. Sadly, that didn’t work, so instead he let the thefts continue so he could follow them to their source.

The men loaded the new containers with the stolen goods into a wagon. As it pulled out, Claudius and his men followed on foot. Devnum was a bustling city with people quite literally everywhere, which made it easy to follow a wagon on foot. It headed toward the western edge toward the port.

At the docks, the wagons turned away from the mass of warehouses that sat at the end of the docks and headed toward one of the loading berths at the far edge of the long dock area. It sat on the opposite side from the section that ended against the drydocks and was furthest from any of the warehouses that ships loaded and off-loaded into.

These were the least popular of the berths a ship could have and most shipmasters complained when they got stuck at one of these, which meant they tended to only be used when the port was particularly busy.

Which it wasn’t right now, which meant the Scandi vessel waiting there now was secluded and by itself.

Claudius did not know the ship, whose name painted on its side proclaimed it The Njord, but he did recognize the man standing on the dock near its gangplank, supervising its loading.

Tall, with a red beard streaked gray, Sten had been one of the shipowners Claudius whose ships were meeting the Egyptian crewed vessels. He and Medb had questioned Sten at the time, and he’d claimed ignorance, blaming captains for acting without his knowledge.

It had been possible, as there had been several ships dealing with the Egyptians, and only one had been his. Now, however, it seemed like maybe that was also a cutout the man had been using, hiring other ships not connected to him to do his dirty work.

Sten was clever, there was no doubt of that. The fact that he was here and put himself where smuggled goods were being loaded suggested maybe things were not going so well for him at the moment.

They were about to get worse for him, Claudius thought with a smile.

As Sten directed the goods from the wagon that Claudius had been following personally, a port official came walking up the dock, stopping and talking to the merchant. Claudius was not so naive to think that this was a chance inspection or that Sten would get caught, even though that was the official’s job.

Sure enough, after less than two minutes speaking together, Sten handed a small sack, probably full of coin, to the man, who slipped it into his pocket and walked away, never once looking at the crates being carried onto the ship.

Claudius made a mental note to deal with the man later.

“Return to headquarters,” he said to one of his men. “Bring twenty Praetorians and meet us at that warehouse there, the one with the broken window on the second floor.”

The man nodded and slipped away as Claudius made his way to the warehouse that still had a view of Sten’s ship. He had some time, as there were a lot of crates still left to load. Probably there to help bury the smuggled cargo in. The second floor of the warehouse provided an unobstructed view of the Njord, allowing him to watch everything without having to stand in the open.

The ship probably wouldn’t sail until the evening tide, which was a good three hours away.

Praetorians arrived in small groups, filtering into the warehouse. By the time twenty men assembled, the loading operation neared completion. Empty wagons departed, and the Njord’s crew looked to be preparing to sail.

“Once aboard, we need to move fast to make sure they don’t destroy or hide any of the cargo,” he ordered, pointing at a group of nine to ten of the men. “I want you lot to secure the deck and round up all the sailors. Bring them to the center of the deck and hold them there for questioning. The rest of you I want down in the hold as soon as we’re onboard to make sure no one does anything. As soon as we have the sailors secured, I want you to start going through every single crate down to the very bottom of them. We’re looking for controlled goods such as rifles, rifle parts, and artillery shells, although anything that seems out of place from the other goods should be set aside to be examined. Let’s go.”

The group moved quickly, practically sprinting from the warehouse to the ship, so that they got on board before Sten and his men had a chance to do anything. A shout went up as they got to the gangplank, but by then it was too late.

The ship’s crew, startled, had only started to look around as his Praetorians got on deck and began rounding men up.

“This ship is impounded by order of the Empress,” Claudius announced. “Any resistance will be met with lethal force.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Sten demanded, emerging from the captain’s cabin.

“Your vessel is suspected of transporting contraband weapons and military supplies in violation of imperial export restrictions and is hereby impounded on order of the Praetorian Guard.”

“This is absurd! I carry only legitimate trade goods, wool, ceramics, and lumber,” he sputtered, turning to the ship’s captain. “Show them the manifest.”

The second Praetorian team had already descended into the cargo hold. The men must not have done a good job of hiding the goods, because by the time the Njord’s captain produced the ship’s manifest, one of the men had returned to the deck.

“Tribune, we’ve found some artillery shells buried beneath other goods. The men are still looking through the rest.”

“I know nothing of this! If contraband is aboard, it was loaded without my knowledge. Perhaps ...”

“I didn’t just happen to stumble across your ship. I observed you personally directing the loading of crates I knew to contain contraband materials,” Claudius interrupted. “You supervised the entire operation and accepted shipment from wagons, and paid off a port official, who is being detained at this very minute.”

Claudius hadn’t sent anyone for the official yet, but Sten wouldn’t know that.

The merchant’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he maintained his facade. “These are baseless accusations. I demand to speak with the Scandian consul.”

“You’ll have that opportunity after questioning at Praetorian headquarters.”

Claudius dispatched two Praetorians to secure Sten while he oversaw the search of the captain’s cabin. They seized the ship’s logs, navigation charts, cargo manifests, and correspondence.

Now they would need to question the man and see just how far this went.