[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
."We're hot.""Safe off," Buckley said, plugging in a local controller."Weapon is hot," hecontinued, rotating a round into the first chamber."Earplugs aren't in," Wright said hastily, reaching in his breast pocket."It's just a short burst," Buckley answered."Here goes."He set the gun to four thousand rpm, max speed, and pressed the fire button.The rounds flew out with a ripping snarl like a chainsaw and the fire lookedlike nothing so much as an orange laser; every fifth round was a tracer andthey were so close together they looked like one continuous stream.Buckley nodded as the gun continued to fire and then frowned as it clanked toa halt with a shrill scream of disengaged torsion controller."Shit." Thebrass cartridge that had caused the latest jam was clearly evident,"stovepiped" in the ejector."Shit, shit, shit," he continued, reaching forthe cartridge."Sarge, the gun's hot," Wright objected."Screw that," Buckley said, waving Alejandro away from the breakers."I wantto get this over with before."The two specialists never found out what it was he wanted to get it over withbefore because the problem was a short, but not in the gun or even in the M27mount.The problem was in the resistor that controlled power flow to the M27.Page 177ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlThe resistor coil stepped down the power that was supplied to all the guns sothat the voltage going to the mounts was at the proper level.But in the caseof Mount B-146, the resistor was slightly flawed, and it was permitting ahigher charge through.This charge had been "bleeding over" to the gun, and since the gun was drivenby an electricalmotor it was causing the motor to run at a slightly higher rpm than it wasstrictly designed for.But since the gun was on a controlled ground, the fullpower of the flawed resistor had never been released.When Sergeant Buckley grabbed the brass, though, the power, having found aconduit, went to work.And he was suddenly hit by 220 volts of AC power.Buckley stood in place, shaking for a moment, until all the breakers for thesector blew out."Damn," said Wright."That's gotta hurt.You didn't have to blow him to hell to prove your point, Alejandro.""I didn't," the specialist replied, pulling an injector of Hiberzine out ofthe first aid case."Call the medics while I start the CPR.Tell 'em Buckley'shaving a bad day again."* * *"Come!"Lieutenant Sunday walked into the company commander's office and came to theposition of attention."You asked to see me, ma'am?""You don't have to pop to attention every time you come in, Sunday," Slightsaid with a smile."Bowing will suffice.""Yes, ma'am," he said, starting to bow."Oh, cut it out." She laughed."Look, Lieutenant, I know it's Saturday, butwe're in a bind.FirstSergeant?"It was only then that Tommy noticed First Sergeant Bogdanovich in the corner,lounging like a leopard on the company commander's couch.Boggle's brow furrowed and she leaned forward urgently."Lieutenant, severalsuits in the company have a critical shortage of biotic undergel.Since it's aGaltech controlled substance, it can only be released to a qualified Fleetofficer.""I'm hereby appointing you Armory officer for the company," Slight continued."I want you to go over to S-4 and find all the undergel you can lay your handson.Clear?""Clear, ma'am," Sunday said, snapping to attention."Permission to leave?""Go," Slight said seriously."And don't come back until you have it; we reallyneed to get the suits up to speed."After the mountainous lieutenant was well clear of the room the two womenexchanged glances and then First Sergeant Bogdanovich, veteran of countlessbattlefields, gave a very uncharacteristic giggle."Two hours.""Less," Slight said shaking her head."He's no dummy."* * *Lieutenant Sunday marched into the office of the S-4 NCOIC, who started to getto his feet."At ease," the lieutenant said waving his hand."Rest even.""Good morning, L-T," the staff sergeant said."What can I do for you this fine.er.Sunday morning." The combination of the name of the day and theofficer's name clearly had him baffled."Don't worry about it," Sunday said."I've dealt with it all my life; I'm usedto it.The CO sent me over here to draw some undergel.I've been designatedthe 'Armory Officer' so I'm cleared.""Ah, undergel, huh?" McConnell said with a frown."I think we're about out,sir.The Indowy used it up fitting suits last month.We've got a shipment onPage 178ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlorder, but.well, you know how the Galtech supply line is.""Damn," said Sunday, nodding his head seriously."All out, huh? There's notlike, you know, one can, someplace? Or maybe a short case hiding undersomebody's desk?"McConnell looked at him sidelong for a second then nodded."Well, I thinkthere might be a can in the battalion headquarters," he answered on a risingnote."Gee," said Sunday, putting his hands on his hips."Maybe I should run over tobattalion and see the.?""Battalion commander," McConnell answered."You sure?" Sunday asked, honestly surprised."It's not like, oh, I dunno, theS-3 NCOIC or, maybe, the sergeant major?""Nope, L-T," McConnell answered, definitely."Major O'Neal.He has the can ofundergel.Or so Ihave been given to believe.""Right," Sunday said, getting to his feet."Here I go to see the BattalionCommander to Get SomeUndergel.See? And, oh, by the way, Sergeant.""Yesss?" asked McConnell."I think maybe you should call the BC and tell him I'm coming over," Sundaysaid with a feral grin."But, maybe, you should leave the.overtones of our conversation out." Heleaned over the sergeant's desk and smiled in a friendly manner."Okay?""Okay," McConnell said with a grin."Whatever you say, L-T.""Apropos of nothing whatsoever, Sergeant," Sunday continued, straightening up."I feel constrained to mention that I'm something of a student of the ArmoredCombat Suit.And, if memory serves correctly, the suits generate their ownunderlayer nannites.What do you have to say that?""I wouldn't know what to say, L-T," the NCO said with a smile."I'm also constrained to mention, sarge, that when someone in the military refers to the other by their bare rank, ora negative derivation thereof, such as the name of a bottom-feeding fish, itis generally a sign that that person does not truly respect the individual,whatever their rank.What do you have to say that?"The NCO laughed."I wouldn't say a damned thing to that, sir.""Call me Tank, Sergeant McConnell," Sunday said on the way out the door."Allmy friends do [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]