I sit, a few hundred meters from the clear area we're going to do our
live drop. Usagi and Rei are late, they said they'd be here at 1520, and it's
now 1532.
The AN-124 is in the air, and the drop will happen in twenty-eight
minutes.
I look up at the roar of an over-stressed Chinese internal combustion
engine. Usagi's driving, I can tell, even before the ugly black car fishtails
around the final curve.
Both of them are wearing helmets, protective leathers, and gloves.
Rei's got a firm grip on the panic handle. Usagi flutters the brake, clutch
and gas in an intricate pattern while wrenching the wheel around.
This causes the rear tires to start spinning, and the rear end to
slide around, the front tires holding almost still. Five pi over four later,
it stops, only a little crooked in the parking spot, facing back the way they
came.
`Better,' Rei's telling Usagi as they walk up.
`But I didn't let off the gas soon enough,' Usagi says, `We'll have to
do it again.'
`Doing it again is why we're late,' Rei adjusts the AKS-47 slung at
her hip.
`Yeah, but I pulled that curve much faster the second time.'
`We've got ten minutes 'til the drop,' I greet them.
`Good. This thing sucks,' Usagi swings the M16 off her shoulder.
`Why?'
`It's too long, rattles, and is always hanging up on things. It is
light, fairly accurate, doesn't kick much, and hasn't jammed on me yet, but
I've not gotten it muddy or sandy either.
`The AKS is nicer. Firmer kick, heavier, about as accurate, and I've
gotten an AK pretty grubby, so I trust its reliability. The folding stock
keeps it from getting caught up on things as much, but it's still annoying.
`If I was an infantry girlie, either would be fine. If I worked in an
office, and didn't have to do much, either would be fine. I want something I
can just carry around, and shoot people if I need to, and I need it cheap.'
`Cheap?'
`Cheap. If I'm gonna issue every citizen one, and expect them to
carry it around, I need something less annoying than the AKS, but it doesn't
need to be much lighter. I also want more stopping power than the M16.'
`I'll do some research.'
`Kewl. You're the best, Ami-chan,' she gives me a firm hug, then
settles down in Rei's lap, waiting for the test.
The drop zone has been marked off, and everything for several
kilometers in either direction has been cleared of people and tall obsticals.
The techs on the other side, in their little bunker, flip on the green light,
and the blue one that says the Condor is incoming.
`Hearing protection,' I remind them, putting on my own.
They get them on, and we turn to watch the huge Soviet-built plane
waft closer, remarkably quiet for something so large, seemingly brushing the
ground.
As it gets closer one can tell that there's two meters or more between
it and the ground, but since it is over eighteen meters tall, it doesn't look
like much.
The rear clamshell doors are open, and, at just a little before what I
calculated would be the best spot, the drogue 'chutes deploy. They pull on
the payload, which drops down the ramp to the ground twenty meters from right
in front of us, the platform skidding towards a stop as the T-72 accelerates
off of it. The tank driver pulls a graceful turn, then comes to a stop.
The Condor didn't even bobble during the drop. It pulls up, closing
the rear doors, and heads toward its airstrip.
Usagi claps. `The footage with the HMMV was impressive. This is just
awsome. A little more heavy-airlift capability, and we'll be able to drop a
brigade of tanks anywhere in the world on,' Usagi pauses, `Six hours notice?'
I chase her calculations, `About that. With a bit of effort, and a
lot of practice, three hours.'
`You are the best,' Usagi tells me firmly, one hand on either cheek.
I wonder, for a moment, if she's going to kiss me. And if this flutter in my
guts is worry that she will, or worry that she won't.
She doesn't.
-
I lay the three submachine guns on the table, `HK MP-5,' I touch the
first one, `a Sten,' the second, `And an em three alpha one,' the third, `Also
known as a "Grease Gun", because of the shape.'
Usagi runs her fingers over the HK, then picks up the M3A1, `How's it
work?'
`Thirty-round box mag,' I take the gun from her, drop the clip, show
her the rounds, then slot it back into place, `Sten-like ejection port
cover-safty,' I pull it open, `Notch cut in the bolt to charge the weapon,' I
use my index finger to draw the bolt back until it locks, `Fires from the open
bolt. Air cooled, recoil operated.'
`Manufacturing cost?'
`I had someone look at the plans. For us, five thousand yen each, in
quantity.'
`Not bad,' Usagi takes the M3 from me, closes the ejection port,
safeing the weapon, and throws the strap over her shoulder. She picks up the
other two, hands the HK to Rei, and the Sten to Mamoru, `We'll tell you what
we think in a couple days, OK?'
`Take as long as you need,' I tell her, smiling.
-
`How soon can you get these into mass production?' Usagi asks,
patting the M3, slung at her hip.
`We can start ramping up end of the week, and should be able to get
the tooling done within a month. Production can start maybe a week later,
as we get workers trained.'
`Good. We're actually in the black,' Usagi smiles, `I've gotten the
IOUs for the invasion paid, and the restructuring is still unblocking
resources. We should be able to start training people and issuing weapons in
another month, then.'
`Why are you so keen on arming everyone? I can see how having an army
is good, but why arm everyone?'
`I want to live in a country where anyone, be they a naked virgin with
a bag of gold in either hand, or a paranoid with a sachel charge, can wander
around safely, unmolested. To that end, we need people who believe in the
government, who believe in doing what is right, who believe that the
government believes in them, and who can deal with anyone who doesn't.'
I ponder a moment, `So by arming everyone, you're saying that you
trust them.'
`Exactly. Besides, bad things happen to disarmed populations.'
I must have looked worried, because Usagi steps close and hugs me
firmly.
-
`How's it coming?' Usagi looks at the little wire-frame tank on my
computer screen.
`Slow. The South Korean K1 project seems the best starting point, but
most of their computers aren't on the net, so I've not gotten much about it.
The Abrahms is good, so's the Israeli Merkava. The T-72 isn't bad.'
`Yeah, but I value my people's lives more than the convienience of
using a foreign tank. If you can get foreign parts, and they'll make your
life easier, use them, but I want a tank that will protect its crew, and get
them to where ever I need them.'
`Here's what I've got so far,' I zoom in on the main gun, `Five round
detachable box magazines, fully automatic operation at three hundred rounds
per minute cyclic.'
Usagi blinks, `Five rounds per second. Is there a semi-auto mode, or
is it left to the skill of the operator?'
`Semi-auto or full. Ammo is automatically loaded into the magazines
from the CASEd --'
Usagi cuts me off, `CASE?'
`Don't recall what it stands for, but it's an acronym from a game.
Means that the ammo is packed such that if it blows up, most of the force
escapes to the outside, rather than into the crew compartment or vitals of the
vehicle. Makes the vehicle heavier, but that's really the only draw-back.'
`OK,' Usagi nods for me to continue.
`Storage areas. Three person crew, driver, loader/gunner and
commander. Sloped armor all around, thin skirting and curtains to deflect
plasma rounds,'
`Plasma?'
`HEAT.'
`Oh, right.'
`Low profile, and fast. Top speed of a hundred and ten KPH.'
`That's pretty good, for a tank.'
`Very good, for a tank. Above-average brakes, too. Everyone I've
shown it to says it looks promising. Now I just need to finish the
electronics, and we can start on a prototype.'
`Good, let me know how it goes. Any thought on a name?'
`Remember that book you gave me?'
`Which one?' Usagi looks puzzled.
I look back over the last few hectic months, Usagi had given me a lot
of books to read, hadn't she.
`Under the Yoke.'
Usagi gets a worried look on her face, `Yeah.'
`Hond three.'
Usagi looks down at her fingers, `It's good.'
`Why the worried look earlier?'
`Because Minako-chan still hasn't forgiven me for making her read it.'
`Why not? I thought it a very good story.'
`I don't know. Maybe she feels it's too close to being real.'
I shake my head, `Not really. People aren't that able to see what
they need before they need it.'
`It wasn't that. It was that all of the protagonists are kinda . . . '
`Evil?' I ask her, when she pauses.
`Horrible is closer to what I was thinking.'
`Yeah. But then we've invaded Manchuria, and set it up like our own
little kingdom.'
Usagi nods, `We,' she pauses, clarifies, `We-as-the-Japanese, not
we-as-the-Dark-Kindom, did a lot of horrible things to just about every
country in Asia. We,' a pause, and a smile, `We-as-the-Dark-Kingdom even
invaded through the same port.'
`I know. That's why I was saying we could hardly do worse.'
`I realize that now. Thank you,' and she gives me a hug. She touches
all of us much more now. Or maybe it's just that everyone else touches us
less, so we notice it more.
-
The air assult team rappels down, six people and their gear down in
thirty seconds, then the helicopter is flying away.
The team picks up their bags and starts jogging, weapons at the ready,
towards the DZ. With silent competence they split into two-person teams, and
start wrapping sticky-backed demo cord around the obsticals, telephone poles
and the occasional simulated tree, on our simulated street.
They all gather up, and with a few twists and a firm squeeze on the
M57 firing divice, all the demo-cord goes off. The poles and trees sag
slowly at first, then collapse to the ground all in a rush.
That's it for today's excersize, so the graders come out to tell them
how they did.
-
`Hey, how's the tool up for the em threes doing?' Usagi asks, dropping
onto her heels next to my desk.
`Pretty good.'
`Drat. Is it too late to make changes?'
`Maybe. What do you want changed?'
`The magazine is a pain to load, and it jams if it gets a bit of sand
in it. The HK's doesn't, and the only difference I can see is that the HK is
a double-row of rounds instead of a single one, well, other than the cosmetics
of it.'
`We can still change things. Want me to have a prototype crufted
together?'
`How long will it take?'
`Not sure, but less than a week.'
`Then, please do,' Usagi smiles at me, `Have I told you, recently,
that you're the best?'
`Not this week,' I tell her, smiling back.
`Well, you are,' she hugs me about the waist, pressing her face to my
side.
---
log:
2002 November 25: Started, based on a few weeks plotting, and the (to
me, anyway) irresistable image of Dark Kingdom cargo
planes flying down a (prepared, of course) Tokyo
street dropping main battle tanks . . .
More soon.
2002 November 26: More ^_^
2002 December 31: little more
----------------------- cut here -------------------------
Anyway,
Suika
--
ssfr@mac.com
The computer is not mightier than a cup of coffee, or other liquid, or a young
school age child with a tool box... --L. E. Waltz
<a href="http://homepage.mac.com/~ssfr/">Suika no homepage</a>
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