Klonor
11-02-2006, 06:39
Gin Hasirul stood before an assembled crowd numbering some fifty men, with a few women scattered among them here and there. The crowd was dressed in civilian clothing and mingled freely, no salutes and no screams of 'Sir!', yet there was no mistaking the air of quiet lethality hanging in the air. Uniformed or not, their status as Corps Marines was impossible to hide.
"Eyes front!"
The speed with which they snapped to attention at the almost whispered command from Gin only reinforced the impression.
"You all know what this is, I'm sure."
Gin was holding a small black pistol in his hand, raised high for all to see.
"This is a Klonor Standard Marine Pistol, Model 34. Fully automatic, one hundred collapsed/sheathed rounds per clip, print-user identification, auto-correcting aiming, and enough power in a single round to drop a two-hundred pound man to the ground. If you do your jobs properly you sleep with one of these under your pillows and with another one in your hand. If you excel at your jobs, you've got one on you right now. This weapon, as nifty as it is, has been obsolete for Jove knows how long."
With barely sheathed contempt he tossed it to the side, the gun snapping in half when it impacted the wall.
"They've had projectile weaponry like this since the 20'th Century on Old Earth. There have been minor advances and modifications since then, the addition of computer assistance and increased ammunition capacity, but the primary technology has been around for over a millenia. Now, there's an old saying that says 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it', and we've stuck with that for quite a while. This is still a damn fine piece of offensive technology, and it and its predecessors have served us well for the entirety of their existence. But the last time I checked, Klonor isn't still living on Old Earth and I'll be damned if we're going to keep fighting as if we did. Our Fleet is the best damn Fleet in the entirety of the Milky Way, and I've always been more than a bit ashamed at how far behind our infantry has lagged. So, it's time we caught up."
Nodding off to the side, signalling a hidden technician, there was a brief flash of light and suddenly a large table appeared next to Gin.
"This is us catching up."
Gin reached on to the table and raised a weapon the same general size and shape of the pistol he had just disposed of, yet infinitely more complex.
"This is the NF-1 Laser Pistol, the first of a new line of Marine support weaponry. This pistol contains an internal and self-contained nuclear generator emitting one myria of power every second. Each shot contains up to three hundred P.E.G.'s of energy in a burst lasting 3/10 of a second. It can fire a continuous burst for over one hour at maximum burn before stored energy is depleted, and can recharge within ten minutes. Two supplementary power units are permanently attached to the weapons exterior in the event that you don't have those ten minutes. Accuracy is guaranteed superior to the KSMAR-989 and the lack of any recoil keeps it steady during sustained firing. There's seven optional energy levels, ranging from an almost burnless minimum to nearly complete carbonization."
Turning, Gin aimed and nearly evaporated a human-shaped concrete mound.
"Despite what you might wish, and what you read in science fiction, there's no 'stun' on this gun. There's no 'stun' on any of these laser weapons, the last time I checked lasers don't work that way. Fortunately, if you put this on setting 'one' and get someone in the eye they're going to be down for quite a while, when somebody's blind they're as good as unconcious. Put it on 'two' and get their flesh and it's the same result, with third-degree burns on their hands and legs people won't be lifting and running."
Gesturing off to the side again, once more signalling the unseen technician, Gin nodded to the enraptured audience.
"Familiarise yourselves with these weapons, learn how they function, and report to the target range in one hour. I want every one of you sleeping with these by tomorrow night."
The crowd, craddling the small pistols they received at Gins last singal, let out a small cheer and immediately began to inspect their newest toys.
"Eyes front!"
The speed with which they snapped to attention at the almost whispered command from Gin only reinforced the impression.
"You all know what this is, I'm sure."
Gin was holding a small black pistol in his hand, raised high for all to see.
"This is a Klonor Standard Marine Pistol, Model 34. Fully automatic, one hundred collapsed/sheathed rounds per clip, print-user identification, auto-correcting aiming, and enough power in a single round to drop a two-hundred pound man to the ground. If you do your jobs properly you sleep with one of these under your pillows and with another one in your hand. If you excel at your jobs, you've got one on you right now. This weapon, as nifty as it is, has been obsolete for Jove knows how long."
With barely sheathed contempt he tossed it to the side, the gun snapping in half when it impacted the wall.
"They've had projectile weaponry like this since the 20'th Century on Old Earth. There have been minor advances and modifications since then, the addition of computer assistance and increased ammunition capacity, but the primary technology has been around for over a millenia. Now, there's an old saying that says 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it', and we've stuck with that for quite a while. This is still a damn fine piece of offensive technology, and it and its predecessors have served us well for the entirety of their existence. But the last time I checked, Klonor isn't still living on Old Earth and I'll be damned if we're going to keep fighting as if we did. Our Fleet is the best damn Fleet in the entirety of the Milky Way, and I've always been more than a bit ashamed at how far behind our infantry has lagged. So, it's time we caught up."
Nodding off to the side, signalling a hidden technician, there was a brief flash of light and suddenly a large table appeared next to Gin.
"This is us catching up."
Gin reached on to the table and raised a weapon the same general size and shape of the pistol he had just disposed of, yet infinitely more complex.
"This is the NF-1 Laser Pistol, the first of a new line of Marine support weaponry. This pistol contains an internal and self-contained nuclear generator emitting one myria of power every second. Each shot contains up to three hundred P.E.G.'s of energy in a burst lasting 3/10 of a second. It can fire a continuous burst for over one hour at maximum burn before stored energy is depleted, and can recharge within ten minutes. Two supplementary power units are permanently attached to the weapons exterior in the event that you don't have those ten minutes. Accuracy is guaranteed superior to the KSMAR-989 and the lack of any recoil keeps it steady during sustained firing. There's seven optional energy levels, ranging from an almost burnless minimum to nearly complete carbonization."
Turning, Gin aimed and nearly evaporated a human-shaped concrete mound.
"Despite what you might wish, and what you read in science fiction, there's no 'stun' on this gun. There's no 'stun' on any of these laser weapons, the last time I checked lasers don't work that way. Fortunately, if you put this on setting 'one' and get someone in the eye they're going to be down for quite a while, when somebody's blind they're as good as unconcious. Put it on 'two' and get their flesh and it's the same result, with third-degree burns on their hands and legs people won't be lifting and running."
Gesturing off to the side again, once more signalling the unseen technician, Gin nodded to the enraptured audience.
"Familiarise yourselves with these weapons, learn how they function, and report to the target range in one hour. I want every one of you sleeping with these by tomorrow night."
The crowd, craddling the small pistols they received at Gins last singal, let out a small cheer and immediately began to inspect their newest toys.