Read Online The Valhalla Call (Warrior's Wings) by Evan Currie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Evan Currie
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remaining ships.”
“With respect, Admiral,” Pierce shook his head, “I strongly suggest that you shift your flag to the America.”
“I’m not running from my duties, Captain,” Fairbairn growled.
“I’m suggesting you stay and
do
your duty, Admiral,” Pierce countered, face a stony mask. “You’ll have nothing to do with the Terra and the Canada on the other side, but there will be plenty for you to do here, sir.”
Fairbairn glowered at him but couldn’t marshal much of a response beyond throwing an infantile tantrum and saying, “But I wanna stay here.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well, Captain, you have command of the detachment. Do try to bring your ships and crew home.”
“My very second highest priority, Admiral.”
Admiral Fairbairn nodded as he got up to gather his things and staff. He didn’t need to ask what the first priority was. That was self-evident.
*****
SOPCOM, Los Alamos
“New standard issue, just for your team,” Graves said, gesturing to a table in front of her.
“My team?” Sorilla cocked her head, shooting him a glance as she walked over to the table and looked over the array of kits laid out on it.
“Haven’t been briefed yet?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head.
“You will be, probably on the Alamo.”
“Yes, sir,” Sorilla nodded, picking up the Metalstorm pistol that she recognized.
The compact weapon fired half-inch rounds from two over- and under-barrels at rates of up to a million rounds per minute. Granted, it could only hold fifty rounds in the weapon at any given time, so there was no possible way to hit that theoretical limit. In practice, it meant that she could hammer a target with up to fifty rounds so quickly that every shot would be on target before the recoil of the first one hit her arm.
It was a precision weapon that doubled as a small artillery piece, and since it was a Metalstorm configuration design, there were no moving parts in the entire thing. Even the trigger was a simple pressure flex material that didn’t move, not that she needed to use it. Her implants could tell the weapon to fire directly if needed.
Beside the pistol, however, was something she didn’t recognize. Sorilla picked up the device, turning it over in her hand. It looked rather like an electric screwdriver, except that in the place of the driver bit there was a smooth piece of glass.
“Chemically boosted gigawatt laser,” Graves filled in. “Has a ten-minute burn.”
Sorilla whistled appreciatively. Lasers weren’t commonly used in her line of work, not as weapons at least. Plenty of ships used them, generally for point defense purposes, but few power sources were potent enough, and stable enough, to put out the required current to weaponize a handheld laser system.
“Ten-minute burn? Damn, sir, that’s impressive. Why haven’t we seen these before?” she asked, honestly curious since even a two-minute burn would be useful with a weapon of that power.
“Price, mostly,” Graves answered. “That’s worth almost as much as your suit.”
“Ouch.” She laid the device back down in its case.
Her suit was worth close to twenty million, one reason why OPCOM was the only division that used them.
“It’ll give you another way to deal some havoc, not that you need any more ways from what I understand.” Graves smiled thinly. “But more importantly, it also has some versatility. You can fight with it, cut with it, weld with it…think of it as a multi-tool, Lieutenant.”
Sorilla nodded slowly.
“A
very
expensive multi-tool,” Graves said with a sinister smile. “Don’t break it.”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a slightly strangled voice.
She knew he was kidding, mostly. You didn’t send kit out into the field without the full knowledge that it may well have to be used up to accomplish the mission, that was the way of the military. In fact, in most cases, the brass tended to prefer if material was used up. It looked better on
“With respect, Admiral,” Pierce shook his head, “I strongly suggest that you shift your flag to the America.”
“I’m not running from my duties, Captain,” Fairbairn growled.
“I’m suggesting you stay and
do
your duty, Admiral,” Pierce countered, face a stony mask. “You’ll have nothing to do with the Terra and the Canada on the other side, but there will be plenty for you to do here, sir.”
Fairbairn glowered at him but couldn’t marshal much of a response beyond throwing an infantile tantrum and saying, “But I wanna stay here.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well, Captain, you have command of the detachment. Do try to bring your ships and crew home.”
“My very second highest priority, Admiral.”
Admiral Fairbairn nodded as he got up to gather his things and staff. He didn’t need to ask what the first priority was. That was self-evident.
*****
SOPCOM, Los Alamos
“New standard issue, just for your team,” Graves said, gesturing to a table in front of her.
“My team?” Sorilla cocked her head, shooting him a glance as she walked over to the table and looked over the array of kits laid out on it.
“Haven’t been briefed yet?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head.
“You will be, probably on the Alamo.”
“Yes, sir,” Sorilla nodded, picking up the Metalstorm pistol that she recognized.
The compact weapon fired half-inch rounds from two over- and under-barrels at rates of up to a million rounds per minute. Granted, it could only hold fifty rounds in the weapon at any given time, so there was no possible way to hit that theoretical limit. In practice, it meant that she could hammer a target with up to fifty rounds so quickly that every shot would be on target before the recoil of the first one hit her arm.
It was a precision weapon that doubled as a small artillery piece, and since it was a Metalstorm configuration design, there were no moving parts in the entire thing. Even the trigger was a simple pressure flex material that didn’t move, not that she needed to use it. Her implants could tell the weapon to fire directly if needed.
Beside the pistol, however, was something she didn’t recognize. Sorilla picked up the device, turning it over in her hand. It looked rather like an electric screwdriver, except that in the place of the driver bit there was a smooth piece of glass.
“Chemically boosted gigawatt laser,” Graves filled in. “Has a ten-minute burn.”
Sorilla whistled appreciatively. Lasers weren’t commonly used in her line of work, not as weapons at least. Plenty of ships used them, generally for point defense purposes, but few power sources were potent enough, and stable enough, to put out the required current to weaponize a handheld laser system.
“Ten-minute burn? Damn, sir, that’s impressive. Why haven’t we seen these before?” she asked, honestly curious since even a two-minute burn would be useful with a weapon of that power.
“Price, mostly,” Graves answered. “That’s worth almost as much as your suit.”
“Ouch.” She laid the device back down in its case.
Her suit was worth close to twenty million, one reason why OPCOM was the only division that used them.
“It’ll give you another way to deal some havoc, not that you need any more ways from what I understand.” Graves smiled thinly. “But more importantly, it also has some versatility. You can fight with it, cut with it, weld with it…think of it as a multi-tool, Lieutenant.”
Sorilla nodded slowly.
“A
very
expensive multi-tool,” Graves said with a sinister smile. “Don’t break it.”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a slightly strangled voice.
She knew he was kidding, mostly. You didn’t send kit out into the field without the full knowledge that it may well have to be used up to accomplish the mission, that was the way of the military. In fact, in most cases, the brass tended to prefer if material was used up. It looked better on
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