Sonata in Orionis (Earth Song Cycle Book 2)

by Mark Wandrey

  “Only if it was on the way to their bed,” Cherise said as she came up to them. She wore her formal uniform, same as her friends, but she was built more like Mandi than Minu. She was thin like Minu, but much more curvaceous and taller. The dark-skinned girl cast an equally-dark look at Mandi before smiling at Gregg.

  “How’s life in Logistics treating you?” Gregg asked.

  “Getting back to normal now that the HERT is complete. I don’t know how you guys managed to build this monstrosity with no off-world labor and almost no off-world components. Most of the tribes were thrilled with all the contracts you handed out.”

  Minu nodded and smiled. She’d planned it that way. If only she could’ve avoided giving the Rusks any contracts. Unfortunately, the only source for some of the materials was in the deep mountain mines in Rusk territory, mines the Malovich family owned.

  Before long, the rest of the guests arrived, and the demonstration began. The tour included the computers, the sensor system, the safety viewing area with its force field, and the armory. Everyone was suitably impressed by the racks of beamcasters, all locked in place by a computer-controlled ordnance management system. The ordnance system communicated wirelessly with each weapon, and together, they agreed to release it from storage. Should the requester enter incorrect information into either the weapon or the ordnance system, it wouldn’t release. Forcing it free would render it inoperable and render the parts useless, even as spares.

  As the guests followed their hosts, Minu and Bjorn, into Firing Range Number One, Minu keyed her code into the armory access. The door slid open, and a robotic system slid a gun into place. “Now, I enter my code into the weapon to gain release.”

  “What if you enter it wrong?” a snooty member of the press asked, obviously out of his element and disdainful of the weapons.

  Minu shrugged and said, “Let’s find out.” She entered the wrong code. It beeped. She did it again and got a more insistent beep. “On the third failure…” she said and screwed up the code again. The systems snatched the gun back, and the door slammed shut. She could see the shimmer of the force field rising between them and the armory. Red lights began flashing along the wall, and a computerized voice blared.

  “Attention, protocol breach. The armory is on lock down. Security report to the HERT armory!” The reporter who’d asked the question looked dubious; however, Minu could tell by the looks on the other faces that the demonstration had quelled their concerns.

  “The Concordian-made weapons have these features built into them.” Minu explained. “They’re there to prevent someone from using your gun against you on a battlefield. Luckily, these were brand new weapons when we found them and hadn’t yet been coded.”

  “What if you try to break the locking mechanism?” another man asked. Minu recognized this one as a councilor from New Jerusalem.

  “Same three tries. On the third try, the weapon locks all its circuitry. If you’re stupid enough to try again, it would be a lethal mistake.”

  “How barbaric,” the first reporter slurred.

  “The Concordian Empire doesn’t play games, sir, they play for keeps. These are incredibly lethal weapons, capable of inflicting massive damage.”

  “So we’ve heard,” the councilor said, and most laughed, except a few members of the esteemed press. Minu recognized some of them from Bjorn’s office. “How about that demonstration?”

  “Certainly,” she said and moved to a nearby computer. The Chosen security man moved aside for her. The alarm hadn’t summoned him; he was here for the demonstration like the rest of the Chosen. Minu’s triggering the lockdown was part of the show, planned from the beginning. Even if no one had asked, she’d have shown them anyway. Leaning over so no one could see her fingers, she typed in her personal code.

  “Command level authorization needed to override lockdown protocol,” the computer announced.

  “What does that mean?” asked another reporter.

  “It means,” explained Bjorn, as he leaned in to enter his own code, “that once a lockdown is triggered, no one Chosen can gain access. At least one two-star or higher must release the lock.”

  “Isn’t that risky?” asked still another reporter. “I mean, if there’s an emergency, what happens if there are no ranking Chosen around? There are only a handful of two-stars, right?”

  “Correct, only seven Chosen currently hold two stars, and two don’t work in this facility. However, since the HERT is right outside the Steven’s Pass complex, where our global CIC is located, there are always several here. It was considered a justifiable precaution.”

  “Lockdown has been lifted,” the computer said. The lights ceased flashing and the armory access door slid open. Minu typed in her code, and the system offered her a weapon. She entered her code into the weapon, and the system released it into her hands. She hefted the gun and turned around, keeping it pointed safely down range. Several reporters stiffened anyway and got wide eyed or took a step back. Minu enjoyed herself as she handed the weapon to Gregg, who was standing by the firing range station.

  “Now, Chosen Gregg Lawson will take you through the next step of the demonstration.”

  Minu saw an almost palpable sense of relief in the faces of the press as Gregg turned and began explaining the weapon. She stood back with Bjorn and listened. It was just as they’d rehearsed, emphasis on the destructive potential and, therefore, the need for the HERT, and only a passing mention of their use in combat for the Chosen.

  “I’d like to take the opportunity to show you just how this weapon works. If you will, please step back behind the yellow line on the floor.” The press and dignitaries quickly fell back. Once they were behind the line, Gregg stepped up to the firing bench. The system automatically recognized his presence, and a thick glass shield slid into place. “That shield isn’t strong enough to protect against direct fire from this weapon,” he said, “but it provides a measure of protection should any flying debris reach the observation line.

  “I’ll start on the lowest setting.” At the end of the firing range a sheet of dualloy steel rose into place. In a smooth motion, Gregg raised the weapon to his shoulder and fired. Crrrack! A smoldering hole appeared in the plate, light shining through from the other side. A small spattering of burning metal scattered on the floor. “Impressive, isn’t it?” The reporters applauded politely; the politicians and dignitaries nodded and spoke to each other. “Now, the highest setting.” He adjusted the controls as a new dualloy steel plate rose into place with four more behind it, a half meter apart. A display in the gallery gave the observers a better view of the targets as Gregg fired again.

  Crrrack! The beamcaster had a much throatier sound this time, and the results were phenomenal. The first two plates shattered just like the one in Bjorn’s office. The third plate was heavily damaged; it had bent and partially melted before being penetrated. The fourth plate was like the third, with a smaller hole. The fifth and final plate was not deformed, but it was penetrated. Light shone through all five plates.

  “Oh my God,” Minu heard one observer intone. Someone else gasped. She didn’t know who’d spoken, and it didn’t matter. The demonstration was a staggering display of almost inconceivable power. Everyone had grown up with dualloy; there were millions of implements on Bellatrix made from the metal. Who didn’t own a dualloy knife or ax that never needed sharpening? Who hadn’t been a passenger on a tram that rode on steel rails plated with a millimeter of dualloy that would last for centuries? The list went on forever. The metal was nearly indestructible, resisted all forms of corrosion, and had a tensile strength nine times that of the next closest metal. Despite all that, it was no match for the focused particle-accelerated energy beam of a beamcaster.

  “So,” Bjorn said with an amiable smile, his hair standing out in wild angles as usual, “are there any more questions about the necessity of this modest facility?”

  “A resounding success, wouldn’t you say?” Pip asked later that afternoon as they cleaned
up.

  “They were scared,” Mandi said, “but was it necessary?”

  “Bjorn thinks so,” Minu said.

  “Bjorn blew a hole in his office to make a point,” Mandi said.

  “Yes,” Pip agreed, a finger held up, “but that worked too, didn’t it?” Minu and Pip shared a smile; Mandi just shook her head.

  “When do we get to work?” Gregg asked, coming back after checking in the weapon he’d used for the demonstration.

  “We already have,” Pip told him and held up a computer. The energy management and analysis program he’d written was running, and they could see a line of figures. “The sensors were running during the shots you fired to show off to the civvies.”

  “Good job,” Minu said, “I wish I’d thought of that.”

  “That’s why you have us.”

  “Okay, meeting tomorrow, 07:00, bright and early.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 17

  April 1st, 517 AE

  HERT, Chosen Headquarters, Steven’s Pass

  The meeting the next day was no different from previous meetings, although there were fewer projects underway because they were dedicating all their time to the weapons program. Later in the morning, they moved to the HERT and began a series of tests. First, they finished the series with the primary weapons Pip had begun the night before, then they ran a second series with four test weapons. Damage yields nearly matched the scale they’d devised. Their first tests were elementary, to establish a baseline, as they had a lack of data on the beamcasters. The Concordian database the Chosen had access to also had nothing on them.

  They broke off in the early afternoon to let Pip and Alijah calibrate the data against their models. The pair was talking animatedly in a language Minu was not yet fluent in, so she went to talk to Terry and Mandi. They were working in the armory with a couple of mock-up copies of the final stocks. As she approached, she saw Terry standing in the hall sipping a bottle of water.

  “Taking a break?” she asked.

  “Yeah, too hot in there.”

  Minu looked confused. “The air conditioner not working?” Because of the ceramic concrete, the HERT tended to get overly warm when used for a long period of time, and the air conditioning system was a used model that struggled to keep up.

  “Hot? Yeah, you could say that.”

  He sounded sarcastic and was annoyed by something, but he didn’t want to tell Minu what was wrong. Minu shrugged and tried the door, only to find it locked. Grumbling, she keyed in her command code, and it obediently popped open. What she found inside was not at all what she expected.

  Mandi wasn’t alone. First Among the Chosen Jacob was with her, and they were lying on a work bench, arms wrapped around each other, lips together and parted. Mandi squirmed in his arms, and he had a hand under her skirt. Minu could see her hand rubbing the bulge in his pants.

  “Oh,” she said coldly, “pardon me.”

  Jacob tried to disengage, but Mandi tried to hold him. They tumbled to the floor. Jacob sprang to his feet with the reflexes of a cat. “Chosen Alma,” he said, slightly out of breath and trying unsuccessfully to smooth his uniform. There was no way to smooth the huge bulge at his crotch. It was the first time she’d realized how unforgiving the jumpsuits were.

  “Guess I know why you left in such a hurry last night,” Minu said to Mandi, who was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, a self-satisfied look on her face. “You can fuck whoever you want, Ms. Bishop, but not on my clock. If I ever catch you doing this again, I will request your reassignment. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said coolly, buttoning her shirt.

  “Pardon the intrusion, sir,” she said to Jacob and nodded. He began stammering as Minu turned and left.

  “I warned you,” Terry said, as she closed the door.

  “Yes, sort of,” she admitted. He strutted down the hall, no doubt to share the juicy story with the rest of the team. By that evening, the entire Chosen would know. Her face and neck burned hot, and she saw red. How dare he; how dare she? She moved to the side and peeked through the small viewing window. Made of super thick moliplas, it was only big enough for her to check the condition of the room, but it was enough. Jacob was trying to talk to Mandi, who was doing her best to pick up where they’d left off. Minu decided that Jacob needed some help cooling her down.

  She accessed the computer and verified all the weapons were in their sealed lockers, and the instruments were locked away. Satisfied, she entered the incident menu and keyed in a couple of overrides. With a final stab of her finger, alarms began to sound.

  “Alert, alert, fire in the armory! Deploying countermeasures.” Minu smiled and whistled a little tune as she strolled toward the firing range. Halfway there, Pip, Alijah and Terry raced around the corner toward her, panic on their faces. After finding out what had happened, Pip was terrified his friend had set the lovers on fire, or worse.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “They were hot,” she explained, “I cooled them off!”

  The door to the armory popped open, and a small tidal wave of foam and water poured out. Two drenched and floundering bodies rolled out, gasping for air and spitting out white fire-suppressing foam. Usually, the computer would examine the incident and decide if it required a simple water spray or foam. Minu had figured this situation called for both.

  Alijah and Terry were laughing so hard they could barely stand, and Minu was afraid Pip would hurt himself as he knelt on the floor laughing and pounding the deck. Mandi was crying and trying to wipe foam from her hair, while Jacob’s eyes shot daggers at Minu. “Sorry, sir,” she offered, “must have been a malfunction. If you want, I can download the visual monitors…”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said quickly. “I’m sure you’ll take care of this.”

  “Not a problem, sir.” He turned and walked off smartly, nearly falling several times as his foam-soaked boots slipped on the ceramic concrete floor. Mandi stomped her foot in rage and ran after him. She didn’t almost fall, she went sprawling face first a few meters down the hall. The fall tore her already ruined dress, exposing her left breast. She got up and left in such a huff she didn’t bother covering herself. Naturally, all the boys grinned.

  “Don’t mess with the boss,” Pip said to the other two.

  “Not in a million years,” Terry agreed.

  “Do I look that stupid?” Alijah asked.

  “Back to work then,” Minu told them. She went to the armory and told the computer the ‘fire’ was out. After programming the bots to clean up the mess and recharge the fire prevention system, she joined her team at the range. She smiled as she walked, suppressing the urge to skip like a little girl.

  * * *

  Julast 3rd, 517 AE

  HERT, Chosen Headquarters, Steven’s Pass

  The weeks slipped by uneventfully. Minu received an email that stunned her; she’d been Chosen for two years. It didn’t seem like that long. The progress on adapting the beamcasters was slow and methodical. Designing a stock that fit a human well and didn’t add ten kilos to the already massive weapon had proven to be an engineering challenge that exceeded her team’s ability. The easiest solution was to design and produce a custom moliplas molded stock, but there were weren’t any on Bellatrix capable of doing so. Going off-world was not an option, as they didn’t want to advertise their newly-found firepower. Pip and a much more restrained Mandi requested and received permission to get the assistance of outside contractors. With the help of a firm in Tranquility, they devised a reinforced stock of old-fashioned man-made plastic. After six months, they finally finished the guns and had them ready for evaluation.

  They demonstrated the weapon to Jacob and the Chosen council on a fine Julast afternoon. Minu opened three firing ranges to allow Gregg and Aaron, the two most familiar with the weapons, room to demonstrate. For an hour, they dodged through a makeshift combat alley, rolling over obstacles and pulling off slightly clumsy snap shots
to punch holes in dualloy targets.

  When it was over, the councilmen thanked Aaron and Gregg personally, then walked over to where Minu and her team waited nervously. Until that morning, they’d been having reliability issues with the main power selector and the laser sight integrated into the locally-manufactured foregrip. “Simply fantastic,” Bjorn beamed, enjoying a rare chance for his science department to shine.

  “Wonderful accomplishment,” Dram agreed in his deep baritone voice, an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

  “Satisfactory,” Jacob said. Every other council member glared at him. “Good job,” he said and patted Minu on the shoulder. He thanked each member and shook their hands, as well. When he got to Mandi, he refused to look her in the eye. She suspected the romance had died before being fully born, victim of a robot fire control system and an irate redhead.

  “Well then,” Jacob said at last, “I officially pronounce the beamcasters operational and order they be added to the Chosen arsenal.” There were cheers all around from Minu’s team, including a small one by Minu herself. Jacob looked around disapprovingly.

  “And none too soon,” Dram agreed. “Minu, how long was your recommended training routine?”

  “Two weeks,” she said and handed him a computer tablet she’d already prepared. “Any less is risky. We’ve installed interlocks on the guns that allow them to operate in three modes, training, normal field operation, and emergency. All levels are as we discussed during the design meetings. The training mode is non-lethal to a nominally-armored man, unless you hit them in the face. Normal field operation will punch holes in half-inch dualloy and is good for about a hundred shots. Emergency is no-holds-barred. Power settings are completely at the user’s discretion, and the weapon can unleash horrendous damage—for a few shots, anyway.”