Robert frowned. “You know I’m not interested in developing this. I just want to live out the rest of my life in quiet, well-deserved retirement. Considering the source of this knowledge, I could get in a lot of trouble. I’d be labeled a scoundrel and would never enjoy another moment’s rest.”
Tad said, “I don’t understand.”
Before Robert could answer Galen said, “You don’t want to know, the less you know the better. But please, Robert, we need your help.”
He sat at his terminal and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Spike handed him the specs for the Hercules and the mobile particle cannon gun carriage. Robert brought up a computer modeling application and said, “If you’ll excuse me, this might take a while. I’ll buzz you when I’m done.”
Tad said, “How long, do you think?”
“About four hours, maybe?” Robert turned to his terminal.
Galen said, “Okay. Spike, Tad, lets go check out the sights.”
They left the apartment and went to the pub down stairs to say hello to Nan on the way out. She was working behind the bar during a busy lunch hour so she hurried them along. They walked to the center of town and sat on the steps of the Hiring Hall and watched fresh-faced young mercenaries enter the building looking for work and noticed that when they came out they could tell if they had been hired or not by their postures. They tried to make a game of predicting which aspiring mercenaries would get hired, but results were inconclusive. It was hard to tell one fresh young kid from another long enough to make the determination.
They strolled over to the Ostwind Military Academy, past its high gray walls to the pedestrian entrance, walked around the main campus area and then left, realizing there was little for visitors to do in that sparse environment. Even the snack bar lounge, equipped with poorly stocked automated snack vendors, wasn’t very relaxing with its stone benches and harsh, bright artificial lighting. Even the view out the window, overlooking the loading dock of the dining hall, did nothing to reduce stress. Frustrated, they left the academy grounds and found a small restaurant serving breakfast food around the clock and sat and had bacon and eggs at a sidewalk umbrella table.
Finally Galen’s communicator buzzed. It was Robert.
Galen answered, “Yeah.”
“I’ve got something, but I have some specific questions.”
“Be right there, about ten minutes.”
“Okay.” Robert ended the call.
Galen finished his drink and stood. Tad and Spike followed him back to the apartment and Robert had them sit in the living room on the couch and served glasses of iced tea.
Robert sat in his recliner and lifted a noteputer from the table beside it and said, “I need to know the planet’s gravity.”
Spike said, “One point zero seven G.”
“And the terrain, the softest ground to traverse?”
Galen said, “Marshland, a salt marsh, kind of spongy and soft, with a viscosity like cooking oil below the surface. I’m not sure of exact numbers.”
“I’ll make some good guesses. How about slope?”
“There’s a steep hill to climb, up to an eight hundred mil angle in places.”
Robert pecked at the screen of the noteputer with his right index finger. “Slope, one hundred per cent.”
Tad said, “That’s straight up! We only meant an angle like this.” Tad had his left forearm tilted to show the angle of the slope.
Robert smiled. “Per cent of slope is measured as rise over run. One meter forward for one meter of rise is a one hundred per cent slope.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Tad took a drink of his tea.
“One last thing, do you want these tanks to levitate or will they stay on the ground?”
Tad said, “We’re trying to be discreet. We don’t want every other military unit in the galaxy to get its hands on this technology; we want to be the only ones using it. We want to keep surprising our opponents.”
Galen said, “Yes. Flying tanks would draw a lot of unwanted attention. We’ll keep our tracks firmly planted on the ground.”
“Very well. I propose installing two lifters on each tank, one in the front and one at the back. Inside the hull, protected and hidden from view. That will give lift distribution front and back, with no requirement to control the roll of the vehicle.”
“Lifers. I like that name,” said Galen.
Robert said, “Well that’s all they really do is lift. They repel gravity, but only for themselves. It’s like having a cable pull straight up. Or like having a jack push up, I think that’s more accurate. Two lifters, with twenty tons of lift each. That should take care of the needs of your fifty six ton Hercules. The gun carriage is a different story. What will it weigh?”
Galen said, “Upwards of seventy tons, and it will be under powered and top heavy, set on a Hercules tank chassis.”
Robert poked at his noteputer screen. “Four lifters of twenty tons each, two in the front and two in the back. That should get it up that hill.”
“Should? We have to be sure,” said Spike.
Robert poked at this noteputer for a couple of minutes. “It will. I just ran a simulation.” He flipped the noteputer around and showed a video of a gun carriage climbing a steep slope. “It will work just fine. How many vehicles will you be outfitting with lifters?”
Galen said, “A battalion of Hercules tanks, that’s forty four, and four gun carriages. Forty eight vehicles.”
Robert said, “That’s a hundred and four lifters. That will take some time to manufacture and install.”
“How long?” Galen said.
“It would take me a couple of months. Ostreich has fine facilities but proteum is a controlled gas here, a byproduct of deuterium production. It’s collected and tracked for recycling as a fuel source. I’d have to be very discreet. Final assembly of each lifter would have to take place in my workshop, to keep it under wraps. And I remind you; this technology was lost to human kind and for some reason has not been re-introduced. If word gets out about this, some very powerful entities such as governments or corporations or religious orders or secret societies will crush us like little bugs, either to bury this tech or steal it for themselves. Secrecy is an absolute necessity.”
Spike said, “Do it on Mandarin. Our maintenance facility could handle it, and there’s a deuterium refinery right there, less than eight klicks away. They produce proteum as an uncontrolled byproduct. We could go right through from manufacture to installation all in the same building, and it’s a secure environment. Would a week be long enough under those conditions?”
“Sure, that would work. Let me go down stairs and tell my wife about the trip, but not the lifters, of course.” Robert left.
Tad said, “I really don’t think we’ll need that many tanks or guns. I think we can get the job done with six tanks and two guns, and the second gun is only there as back up.”
“Break it down for me, Tad.” Galen said.
“The two battalion headquarters tanks, we need them for their comms gear, with one heavy tank platoon, that’s more than enough fire power, that’s six Hercules tanks. That leaves the gun carriages. We only need one but better to bring two, just in case.”
Spike said, “That means we’ll only need twenty lifters. The rest of the heavy tanks can get on the line to support the indigs.”
Galen said, “Could we bring a light tank company along to support the guns?”
Spike said, “I’d suggest bringing a Cav troop instead. Much more flexible.”
Tad said, “Take the whole Cav battalion. Once past that hill they can attack from the flank. They can punch right into what’s left of the Mosh rear area and that’s the end of the fight right there, no need for bombardment from space.”
Galen said, “We’ll see. It’s something we need to game out a few times before making a decision. But I do agree with just twenty lifters. The less there are, the easier it is to keep them secret.”
Robert returned. “All
right, we can leave right away. But you better have me back here in less than ten days or Nan will have your hide.”
Galen stood. “I have more good news. We only need twenty lifters.”
“Good,” said Robert. “We can discuss my compensation along the way.”
Galen said, “I think a consulting fee is in order, for one technical thing or another.”
“We’ll work something out.” Robert winked.
Chapter Five
The next morning Galen, Tad and Spike met Robert at the Jasmine Panzer Brigade machine shop on Mandarin. Galen unlocked the door and stepped inside. The machine shop was built on to the side of the Brigade’s ordinance-level maintenance bay and was normally staffed with machinists, technicians, engineers and mechanics but Galen had given them the week off with pay and placed the building off limits. Six Hercules heavy battle tanks and two Hercules tank chassis with turrets removed and particle cannons mounted took up most of the bay space.
“Just the four of us?” said Robert.
“That’s right. The fewer people who know about this the better and the four of us already know about it.” Galen looked around. “I hope you can live on field rations, it’s all we got. Nothing in or out until we’re done.”
“Might as well get started,” said Tad.
Robert said, “Then let me direct your attention to the vacuum chamber. Inside is everything you’ll need to assemble the lifters. Suit up and get in there and I’ll take the pressure down to zero.”
Galen said, “You heard him. There’s only room for you two in there. It won’t take long.”
Galen helped Spike and Tad pull on vacuum suits, very similar to the combat suits they wore as tank crewmembers. They entered the chamber and Galen closed the door behind them and spun the wheeled handle to seal the door nice and tight. Galen and Robert then stood at the control panel and looked through the thick ballistic glass window.
Galen turned on the comms. “You guys hear me okay?”
“Roger,” Tad gave a thumb up with a gloved hand.
Spike adjusted the volume by turning a knob on the left side of his helmet. “Good now, was a little loud before.”
Galen said, “Well you have excellent hearing. The suit’s usual occupant is probably half deaf from working in this noisy shop.”
Robert said, “Okay gentlemen, I’m lowering the pressure so just stand in front of the window facing me and let me know if there’s a problem with your suit.” He flipped a switch and turned a knob and watched a gauge as its reading went to zero. “You guys still good?”
“Roger.” Tad
“Check. Just fine,” said Spike.
“Face about. Directly in front of you are boxes. Open them all now.”
They did, twenty cardboard boxes.
“Now one at a time, remove the cylinder and remove the plastic sleeve. I’ll talk you through the first one, then you can work from there and ask me questions if you get confused.”
“Works for me,” said Tad.
Robert cleared his throat, “Okay, take that cylinder and stand it with its open end up on the table.”
The first cylinder was more like a solid thirty centimeter long section of bar twenty centimeters across weighing four kilograms. Its open end showed a two centimeter wide hole drilled into it. The depth of the hole was twenty five centimeters.
“Next, reach across the table and get a small box and open it. Inside it is the controller assembly. It’s a rod made of carbon 14 nanotubes assembled… I mean, just be careful to insert the end with the insulative seal first, and press it firmly but slowly into the cylinder until it stops and then ensure its end is a centimeter below the surface of the hole.”
They did as directed and showed their work to Robert through the window.
“Okay, now for the fun part. Take the beaker on the table and hold it under the valve of the liquid hydrogen one tank to your right. Fill it about half way, and then pour that liquid into the cylinder, all the way up to the top.”
Spike handled the liquid hydrogen. He set the beaker aside, some liquid still in it.
“Good job, you’re a real pro.”
Spike gave a hand salute. “Now what, professor?”
“Now you will reach to your left and secure a length of insulator. I’ve already cut them to length, you should see a carton full of lose, rubber-hose looking things…”
Tad held one up. A section of orange tube twenty centimeters in diameter, paper thin, thirty centimeters long.
“You got it. Now slide that over the cylinder.”
Tad and Spike both put on insulative sleeves.
“Now it really gets fun. To the far left, beside the crate of sleeves, is another stack of boxes. Open them. Good, now take out one cylinder and slide it over the first cylinder.”
The second cylinder was five centimeters shorter than the first one and the wall was only four centimeters thick but the end was ten centimeters thick. There was an insulative cushion in the bottom, five centimeters thick but spongy. Tad slid the second cylinder over the upturned end of the first cylinder.
“See the press on the right, by the door? Stand the cylinder in there and press its top down to sixty kilos pressure per square centimeter. Then tilt it level and insert it into the round hole of the crimper and give it another sixty kilos to crimp the thing together real good, and you’re done with your first lifter.”
They did, putting the completed lifters into the first set of boxes. They continued working, the task simple enough they didn’t ask for more instructions. Galen and Robert watched them intently the whole time. In just under an hour, the work was done.
Robert said, “Gentlemen, I’m going to slowly raise the pressure. Keep your suits on. If there is any problem with the cylinder’s seals we’ll be able to see it from here, so stand away from them please.” Robert took ten minutes to let the pressure in the chamber normalize slowly. The cylinders were fine. “Congratulations gentlemen, you are now the only experienced lifter assembly line workers in the known universe. Galen, you can now open the chamber door and let them out.”
Galen spun the wheeled handle and pushed the latch and opened the door. Then he helped Tad and Spike out of their suits, and hung up the suits up for them.
“Bathroom,” said Tad. Spike followed him to the motor bay’s latrine.
Robert went into the chamber and grunted as he grabbed a lifter and put in on the table. He took it out of the box and inspected it. “Perfect.”
Galen said, “I should hope so. Want to eat before we test these things?”
“Sure. I’ve never eaten a military field ration before.”
“Oh, you’ll love them. Everyone does at first.” Galen walked over to the break area, a small room with a small, high window. A single light strip, stained gray in places, was glued to the ceiling right above a meter-square steel table bolted to the floor. It had four worn out metal chairs around it, scratch marks on the concrete floor from where the chairs had been slid thousands of times. A case of rations sat atop a rusted refrigerator. Galen pulled two single-serve boxes of shelf-life milk from the refrigerator, grabbed two rations from the box and handed one of each to Robert before taking a seat at the table. “Enjoy.”
After lunch, they set about the task of installing the lifters.
“So, where do we start?” said Tad.
Galen said, “I want to start with the gun carriages. Get the hardest ones out of the way and learn the hardest lessons first.”
“You’re the boss,” said Spike.
Robert walked over to the front of the first gun. “Here you have the intended lift point, shown by the towing shackle. What we’re going to do is remove these bolts, remove the towing shackle, drill all the way through the hull, install the lifter in a rated bracket on the inside, push longer bolts through from the inside, and then re-install the towing shackles, and put crown nuts on the exterior, drill across the threads and insert cotter pins to prevent loosening. Got it?”
“Go
t it,” said Galen. “But don’t we still have to test the lifters?”
“Okay, I forgot. We’ll do that now. Bring the lifters out and line them up over by the load-test weights.”
Robert chose the twenty one ton load test weight, a block of concrete that had an eyelet imbedded in each corner that held the ends of steel cables running diagonal across the block, equal slack in each. Tad, Galen and Spike carried the lifters over to the load test block and installed the mounting brackets to each lifter so that it could be hooked to the cables. Then Robert hooked the first lifter to the block and ran a power lead off the back end of the gun carriage to power a control unit. Then he ran one wire to the lifter’s larger end along the edge and soldered it in place with a small soldering gun he pulled from his pocket. He soldered another wire to the smaller end, in the center. Then he hooked the loose wire to the control unit and said, “Stand back.”
“Why the weak solder connections?” said Galen.
“It’s a fail safe. If the lifter is stronger than I predicted and snaps the lifting cables, the wires pull off easily so we don’t have a lifter taking off onto orbit or beyond.” Robert turned a knob and the slack came out of the cables. Then he gradually increased the lift until the concrete block was suspended ten centimeters off the floor of the bay. He studied his wrist chronometer, and then after a full minute had passed he set the block back down. “That one’s a go.” He pulled the wires off it, removed it from the cables, wrote “OK” on it with a paint pen and set it aside. He then put the next lifter on top of the block.
All three mercenaries watched, fascinated by the power of the lifters.
Testing complete, Robert said, “Enjoy the show?”
“I could watch this all day,” said Tad.
Robert said, “Well I’m a worn-out old man. I need a break. You young fellers can get started installing them. When you get this first one done come get me and I’ll check your work.”
“Roger,” said Galen.
Robert went to the shop foreman’s office and stretched out on the couch for a nap.
The War for Profit Series Omnibus Page 49