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Order of the Sword Laboratory
Jul. 18th, 2011 10:50 pmThe assault on Adams AFB was coming in the morning. Ellen intended to get as much sleep as she could before it happened. Fawkes had already gone on ahead to claim a space on the floor (bunks sized for humans being too small) for himself, but before Ellen could rest, she had to check in with Paladin Tristan. Best to make sure she had her orders before it was time to ship out. A quick glance at the notice board in the Lyons' Den indicated he could be found in the part of the labs reserved for the Order of the Sword, so she headed that way. If she caught him quickly enough, she'd have a chance of getting out of her recon armor and actually sleeping tonight.
The other parts of the Citadel were mostly full of people either in green off-duty uniforms or some form of armor, but the labs were manned mostly by Scribes. That meant red robes virtually everywhere she turned. It would have been a solemn, monastic experience almost anywhere else. Here, it was an exercise in picking the conversation about how to get more gain out of the electron charge packs apart from the conversation about slag-to-frag ratios on the latest modifications to the standard laser rifle. Here there were scribes hunched over half-disassembled plasma weapons, junior scribes frantically sorting through piles of schematics for high explosive ordnance, and everything else imaginable about the best means to utterly wreck anything that stood in the way. It was a kind of dedication, its own sort of devotion... it just wasn't what it looked like, that was all.
Paladin Tristan, however, was exactly what he looked like. Armored or not, the man stood out among the Scribes like a mini-nuke among grenades. He was deep in conversation with a young, dark-skinned woman, but at Ellen's approach he looked up immediately. "Ah, 101. There you are," he said. "Wasn't sure if you'd be coming back here tonight. You know you don't have to report until tomorrow morning, don't you?"
"I'm aware, sir." Ellen dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I wanted to be prepared, though."
"Good. Taking initiative's a positive sign," Tristan said. "So is having good timing."
"Sir?"
Tristan nodded to the dark-skinned Scribe, who turned to the workbench beside her and began unlocking a case that could very easily have held a missile launcher. "You may want to get some practice in with this before you go to bed," he said. "Considering what you'll be doing with it in the morning."
"Doing with... what, exactly, sir?"
The corners of Tristan's mouth turned up in a dry, satisfied smile. "I'm assigning you to advance support duty in the assault on Adams," he said. "The Scribes have been working day and night on that Tesla coil you retrieved from the Olney ruins, and I'm proud to say they've finally come up with something suitable. It's not quite Liberty Prime's level of sheer destructive power, but I think you'll find it'll serve nicely."
It wasn't a missile launcher in the case, although it was almost as big. Its form was cylindrical, girded in steel for most of its length. There was a a complicated arrangement of gleaming steel and dull black parts on one end- the part, Ellen realized, that would be put to the shoulder to steady it during firing. Parts of its length were actually clear, some sort of reinforced glass most likely, and through them she glimpsed a barely restrained dance of blue-white light.
"This," said Tristan, "is a Tesla cannon. Runs on electron charge packs. It's capable of destroying a fully loaded and armed eight-man Vertibird with a single hit while it's still five hundred feet off the ground. The Scribes call it Mjolnir."
The name was nothing Ellen had ever heard. She wasn't sure she needed to.
"Take it and some ECPs and get out to the Bailey with it. I want you proficient by dawn."
The other parts of the Citadel were mostly full of people either in green off-duty uniforms or some form of armor, but the labs were manned mostly by Scribes. That meant red robes virtually everywhere she turned. It would have been a solemn, monastic experience almost anywhere else. Here, it was an exercise in picking the conversation about how to get more gain out of the electron charge packs apart from the conversation about slag-to-frag ratios on the latest modifications to the standard laser rifle. Here there were scribes hunched over half-disassembled plasma weapons, junior scribes frantically sorting through piles of schematics for high explosive ordnance, and everything else imaginable about the best means to utterly wreck anything that stood in the way. It was a kind of dedication, its own sort of devotion... it just wasn't what it looked like, that was all.
Paladin Tristan, however, was exactly what he looked like. Armored or not, the man stood out among the Scribes like a mini-nuke among grenades. He was deep in conversation with a young, dark-skinned woman, but at Ellen's approach he looked up immediately. "Ah, 101. There you are," he said. "Wasn't sure if you'd be coming back here tonight. You know you don't have to report until tomorrow morning, don't you?"
"I'm aware, sir." Ellen dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I wanted to be prepared, though."
"Good. Taking initiative's a positive sign," Tristan said. "So is having good timing."
"Sir?"
Tristan nodded to the dark-skinned Scribe, who turned to the workbench beside her and began unlocking a case that could very easily have held a missile launcher. "You may want to get some practice in with this before you go to bed," he said. "Considering what you'll be doing with it in the morning."
"Doing with... what, exactly, sir?"
The corners of Tristan's mouth turned up in a dry, satisfied smile. "I'm assigning you to advance support duty in the assault on Adams," he said. "The Scribes have been working day and night on that Tesla coil you retrieved from the Olney ruins, and I'm proud to say they've finally come up with something suitable. It's not quite Liberty Prime's level of sheer destructive power, but I think you'll find it'll serve nicely."
It wasn't a missile launcher in the case, although it was almost as big. Its form was cylindrical, girded in steel for most of its length. There was a a complicated arrangement of gleaming steel and dull black parts on one end- the part, Ellen realized, that would be put to the shoulder to steady it during firing. Parts of its length were actually clear, some sort of reinforced glass most likely, and through them she glimpsed a barely restrained dance of blue-white light.
"This," said Tristan, "is a Tesla cannon. Runs on electron charge packs. It's capable of destroying a fully loaded and armed eight-man Vertibird with a single hit while it's still five hundred feet off the ground. The Scribes call it Mjolnir."
The name was nothing Ellen had ever heard. She wasn't sure she needed to.
"Take it and some ECPs and get out to the Bailey with it. I want you proficient by dawn."