Princess Rescue Inc (26 page)

Waters
grimaced then nodded. “Get them hooked?”

Ryans
smiled. “Right. And one more thing. Save your brass.” The military crew gave
him a dirty look. “What? We're going to need it. We've got reload kits
remember?” he reminded them, spreading his hands apart.

Perry
looked at the two senior noncoms. “He's right. It's not like we can make a
phone call and get more, so police your brass. Carry on gentlemen.” They
shrugged and left.

<==={}------------>

Four
hours later they came back to the keep. Ryans looked out a window to see the
hummers and LAV's crunching up the road. He shook his head as they paused to
let a six legged dog like critter pass.

He
met them in the courtyard, watching as they piled out. A few like the guard
captain nodded politely and then went to check on things holding a plate of
armor. The older folks looked dazed and confused. The Terran soldiers looked
amused and bored.

The
younger guards were enthused, some rushed off to tell their fellows, others
lingered to examine the Terran's vehicles and strike up conversations with
their drivers. A few looked a little dazed as Scooter described the motors then
popped the hood of a hummer to show them.

“How'd
it go?” Ryans asked. He had heard the distant echoing shots from the capital,
but apparently no one in the castle had realized what it was.

“It
was a learning experience,” Waters said nodding. The guard captain came back
holding a breast plate. The shiny metal plate was looking suspiciously like a
dented colander. Another guard had on roman legion style armor. He tried to
carry it but it fell apart. The rounds had torn it apart.

Perry
turned at the clatter then turned back with a smile. “He brought that and the
other to see if we were telling the truth. I think one of the grunts pissed
himself when they went through the first time. Had to smell it all the way home
too,” he said. He wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.

“Oh
lovely, I bet Scooter will be thrilled about that,” Ryans sighed. “So they
aren't house broken, what else did you learn?”

“That
fire discipline is in serious trouble?” Waters sighed. “Had one joker set a
Glock off and damn near shot my foot off.”

“Oh
great,” Ryans grimaced, instinctively looking down at Waters's feet.

“I'm
fine. Just pissed at the moron,” Waters growled. He shook his head. “I told him
and told him to have the safety on and keep his finger off the trigger. At
least it was on single shot.” He shook his head. “We told them to check the
chamber each time someone handed them a weapon. I got cute and slipped a round
in to ram the point home but it damn near backfired on me.”

Ryans
had to smile slightly at that. Of course the smile died when the master
sergeant glared. “For some people, the only way they learn is the hard way.
Unfortunately,” Ryans grimaced. “Chew his ass?”

“Yeah,
think?”

“Good.
Getting through to some people is going to be a bitch and a half though.”

“Better
not be all that hard or I'll dent his damn skull,” Waters muttered. “Gunny is
going to do a martial arts expo after dinner. We've got a skull session with
the guard captain tonight to set up a plan to train. Unfortunately we can't get
them all at once though.” He jerked his thumb to the captain.

“Why...
oh yeah, right, they've got to stand post and patrols. Forgot that,” Ryans
grimaced again, running a hand through his hair. “That's probably a good thing;
we can't bite off more than we can chew. Keeping them busy instead of ripping
up the town is probably a good idea too. Idle hands and all that.”

“True,”
Waters said nodding. Ryans waved. “Are you going to be there for the meeting?”

“Yes,
no, I don't know. It's all up in the air. I've got to get Wanda, Charlie, Sue,
and Max settled in fast. Wanda's got to get the formula for black powder sorted
out and maybe cordite or some other smokeless off and into production ASAP if
we're going to make this work. I'm trying to land with both feet on the
logistics side.”

“Are
you sure...”

“Yes,”
Ryans answered giving the noncom a look.

“Just...”

Ryans
nodded. He knew it could all blow up in their face. He knew the stakes, knew he
was flying blind but also knew he had little choice but to trust at this point.
“I know. But what choice do we have? I for one have no intention of fighting
them on a level playing field. Not when they've trained with swords and crap
all their lives.”

“True.
But once we're out of ammo...”

“Which
is why we're setting Wanda and the others up. We're going to have to keep a bit
back as an edge. Burn it into them that we may be opening our toy sack and
handing out goodies but we can still kick ass.”

“Oh,”
Waters grimaced. “I... see...” He nodded after a moment of thought. “You’re
planning that far ahead are you?”

Ryans
smiled darkly. “Of course sergeant. Since we're going to do this, we might as
well do it right the first time and make sure the weapons are bore
standardized. Our bore standardized of course.”

“Of
course,” the noncom nodded suddenly feeling a sense of relief. “So that should
take care of our supply issues down the road.”

“One
of them,” Ryans sighed. “We've got to break this army if we're going to go
home. They are squatting between us and home, and I'm not going to let a bunch
of ...” He looked over to a group of people sitting near. “Um... natives get in
my way. Agreed?”

“Agreed,”
the noncom nodded. Perry waved to him. “I've got to...”

“Go,
go. Dismissed with my compliments Master Sergeant. Have fun.”

Waters
smirked. “That won’t be till boot camp. Training the DI's we're selecting is
just an appetizer,” he said, the smirk turning positively evil.

“Yeah
right,” Ryans laughed waving him on with a shooing motion. He was glad that
they only had a few hundred veterans in the castle. They would be much harder
to train in the new tech and disciplines. He'd have to make a note to talk to
Perry and the others about focusing their efforts on younger suppler minds.

<==={}------------>

Max
grunted as the artisans came into the room. They looked around, sizing each of
their own number up before taking an interest in the newcomers. He wasn't
impressed. Most were dressed in rich clothes but they had an attitude of
superiority. That always annoyed him. “What's this? Dear me, what's this?
Something new from the fabled lands?” an older man cackled, rushing over to
examine the Glock on the table.

“Easy
there. It's loaded,” Max said, covering the pistol with a meaty hand. “Hang on
a sec,” he ordered. He picked it up, checked the safety, and then flicked the
button to release the cartridge. He slid the bolt back and jacked out the round
and then handed the weapon to the old man. “There you go. I want it back,” he
said, putting the round back in the magazine.

The
old man carefully took the weapon and looked it over. His compatriots looked it
over as well. “This is one of the new thunder weapons you have brought?” one
asked looking up.

Max
nodded, not sure where this was going to lead. “A pistol, a Glock by the way,
standard personal side arm for each of us. Well, one of them anyway, some of us
have Berrettas. It's a little too complex for you to make right away though so
we've got something else in mind.” He reached over to his left side and pulled
out a laptop out of the tote bag hanging from the back of his chair. He turned
and set the laptop up on the table and turned it on.

The
others were examining the gun in the light of the fires. One had what looked
like a magnifying glass attached to a headband. Max snorted as he waited for
the computer to boot.

“What
is that?” the young man asked, waving to the laptop as it beeped then the
standard boot song played. Max grimaced.

“Laptop
a’ course. Also standard issue. We each have one, a phone and a tablet.” He
grimaced when the network booted but said he was out of range. “Damn. Oh well.”
He typed for a moment.

At
the sound of his typing a few of the artisans on the outer edge of the knot of
men turned. They looked at the laptop and descended like vultures.

“Here,”
Max said looking up. He turned the laptop so they could see the screen.

“Goddess
of Athena and Vulcan!” an old man babbled, eyes wide. His nostrils dilated then
he reached out with a gnarled hand to touch the screen.

“Careful
there old timer, I don't want prints on the screen mucking it up,” Max
cautioned. He pointed to the screen. “This here is a laptop like I was just
saying. It's ah... personal storage device. A library.” He shrugged then
groaned a little as he noticed his Glock was now in pieces.

“Why
is it so... plain?” one man asked.

“Huh?
Cause it's manufactured.” Max waved it away. “See we need you to make parts for
these here.” He pointed to the image of a rifle.

“It
will take months. Years,” one said shaking his head mournfully. His eyes
gleamed at the thought of the price though.

Max
chuckled. “Not quite. Besides, we don't have months or years. We've got to make
as many as possible in...” He looked at the computer calendar. “About three
months give or take one of your weeks. That's your time not mine.” He was
already planning on multiple tracing lathes for the wood stocks and rifling
benches to bore and rifle the barrels.

“Impossible!”
one of the men said looking up. “Sure the basics can be done, but the inlay
alone!”

“Will
have to wait until
after
we've won,” Max said sighing. “Look we need
quality weapons in a
short
time. You can make it pretty later. I'd like
that back by the way.” He indicated his pistol.

Sheepishly
and a little reluctantly the men still tinkering with the Glock brought the
pieces of the pistol over. Max took out a cleaning kit from his tote, did a
quick clean, and then reassembled the pieces. “Hope the spring and the firing
pin aren't messed up,” he muttered, then jacked the slide and checked the sight
alignment.

His
audience watched in awe at his experienced hands. He snorted. “Folks this is
just a baby weapon. Granted it's better than what you've got but still, not a
big weapon compared to stuff we've got on Earth.”

“And
you want us to make these... Pistols?” one asked.

Max
shook his head. “No, I said I want you to make rifles. Well, let's start with
muskets. How about that?”

“But
the inlay is important!”

“It
is?” Max asked, turning to an old man. The man looked like a mad scientist. He
was decked out with a leather apron, white leather duster, and an inlaid golden
broach. “Not for this,” he held up the pistol.

“Wait.
I... all right. Some inlay is important. It takes away some of the weight of
the device...” the man said as he indicated the pistol. “While adding strength
and giving it personality.” He picked up a nearby grieve and held it up. He
pointed to the flat metal sections then to the parts that had been cut out or
bent.

“And
it makes it pretty. Yeah I get that,” Max said nodding. He'd actually
overlooked the structural component of the argument. The guy was definitely
smarter than he looked. “But these...” he indicated the pistol, then the images
on the screen. “These we need to make a lot of very fast. I can show you all
sorts of tricks to get around the structural problems. Stamping metal for one.
By the way I know what you’re talking about,” he smiled.

“Creasing
metal usually stiffens it. Cutting holes out as well. Yup got that. But these
are a bit different.” He turned the laptop to face him then turned it back. Now
an exploded diagram of a rifle was shown.

“I
got this from Ryan's database. See here.” He took a stylus out of his pocket
and pointed. “This here is the butt or the stock. It's made out of wood or
plastic. It fits into the shoulder. This...” he pointed to the barrel. “This
thingy is the barrel. This is a long tube with spiral grooves cut into it. You
can't mess with this much or the entire thing will blow up in your hands.”

“Ah,”
the youngest nodded. He wasn't sure what the gaijin meant but he knew it was
important and wanted to sound like he knew. A few of the older men looked
thoughtful. “We do not have much time, a few of us are due for the ball,” the
youngest said giving one of the more formally dressed men a look.

Max
shook his head and tried hard not to groan. “Look. I'll set up a demo of well,
demo tomorrow. Explosives and gunpowder 101 we'll call it. Rifles too. I'll
even toss in a hand grenade,” he smiled.

The
others nodded looking thoughtful. “Till then, here.” He reached over and picked
up a stack of papers and then handed out a packet to each of them. “Simple
stuff really, but it'll whet your appetite for more,” he smiled encouragingly
again. They had had a hell of a time translating the diagrams. He'd kept to the
very basics to weed out the dumb fucks from the fast learners and the wannabes.
“Meet me in the quad, that's ah, the courtyard tomorrow at noon. It'll take me
that long to get things set up,” he waved.