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Michael Thornside held up a piece of a weapon, making a sketch of the electronic components in his notebook. Leon's weapon was truly amazing, and the fact they had a half-dozen disassembled in storage was another point he liked.
If he could just figure out how they were put together!
He threw his pencil down and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Sohpia walked by. "Long day?"
"Yeah." He looked at her. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there." She sat down across from him and looked at the weapon component. "What's that?"
"Leon's new toy." He sipped at a lukewarm cup of coffee. "Ugh, even the coffee is colder than usual. I've got to fix the heating."
Sophia laughed and he heard someone behind him say, "the heating is on." He turned to see Poole walk out again, chuckling on his way. Mike smiled and took another sip of the coffee. Then he looked back at Sohpia and shrugged, pouring himself another cup from the pot sitting on the table.
"So, Soph, what's been keeping you so busy lately? Exectutive duties?" He looked up to see her wince. "What?"
"It's like a whole 'nother job keeping Wychin within the bounds of reason . . . I'm amazed the sectoid hasn't turned up dead and his head left in someone's bunk."
"He has a name. Kroytla."
"I suppose so." Sophia sighed and looked away. "So, what'cha up to?"
"You already asked." He said, picking up his pencil again. "Making sense of these components and trying to jigsaw together some more of those wonder-guns McManus found."
"Oh. Think they'll work?"
"Hey, it can happen . . ."
Mike finally finished sometime around 3AM. With three pots of coffee in him, he found it impossible to sleep until he got parts from storage and reassembled one of the rifles himself. Then he did a second one, and left it charging.
He walked to the Captain's room and knocked on the door. "Sir?"
The door opened to a bleary-eyed Captain Wychin. "Wha . . . Thornside, do you have ANY idea what time it is?"
"Oh. Yes. Three in the morning."
"Some people need SLEEP!"
"Yes sir, I think that's true for most people, yes . . ."
"What was so damned important . . ." Sam stopped as Mike held up the rifle he was holding.
"I got one working." He turned to a wall and pulled the trigger. The beam sliced into the wall and left a neat black line. "I think there's only about four in good order."
"Good boy." Sam's eyes cleared a little. "So, is this your all-night project?"
"Yes sir." Mike grinned. "Tomorrow night I boost the shielding another ten percent."
"You need sleep too . . . did you say another ten percent?" Sam was almost fully awake now.
"Yessir, I borrowed some captured plasma clips and was able to add a little extra edge to the shields. They should absorb a heavy plasma hit. Not sure about blaster bombs. Maybe tomorrow . . ."
"None of that in the base, Thornside!"
"No sir, I used the hangar." Mike blinked.
"That's . . . what hangar?"
Mike keyed the door open and turned on the lights. The empty hangar stood silent, but a scorched metal crate across the hangar floor marked the target of Mike's weapon testing.
"Take a look." Mike raised the rifle and sent a few bursts into the crate. The crate flew to pieces, and Mike lowered the rifle, handing it to a slightly stunned Wychin. "Would you believe there were six of these sitting disassembled . . ."
"Not a word of this to anyone else until I say so." Wychin said. "Now get to bed and sleep. That's an order, Sargent."
"Yes sir. Good night.
Written on February 1st, 2000 by "Mike Thornside"