The Black

It had been over 5 weeks since the message to earth had been sent. Mac and Lyrian settled into a routine of heavy morning workouts followed by various personal and tribe meetings. Tristen had started running with them again about a week after the events at the research station. This time, he had his own vest in tow. He, his wife, and all 6 of his children lived about 20 minutes away by high-speed jungle tram.

Lyri passed another physical from her father and Mac had decided to cook human style over a fire pit and invited Tristen and his family for a cookout. Mac had smoked a titanic amount of cloned ‘roast’ and Lyrian made a massive spread of sides and deserts. Tristen’s family arrived and the kids immediately bolted for the hanger to see “Uncle Mac’s” ship. Mac disabled all the controls and let them climb around in the cockpit for a few minutes before they headed back to play a game of tag mixed with hide and seek. Eventually, Mac became the “great Smokey monster” and he spent half an hour chasing them all around until he was finally “slain” by Tristen’s oldest. He fell dramatically only to be piled on by the rest to confirm the kill. Mac dug a kid’s movie out of his archives of his ‘try not to die of boredom’ hard drive he had filled before his fateful test flight. The evening finished with a dog pile of little ones on the couch inside watching “Treasure Planet” while the adults sipping a Delmar made beverage that Mac swore tasted almost like Brandy.

Normal Evenings were spent watching a movie in English. Lyri had an ear for language, her English was good enough that Mac had banned translations during movies so that she could get at least some immersion. Gaelic had been harder. Mac had been immersed in it at a young age by his mother’s side of the family. He had to go slow with the old tongue with Lyri because of this. She was beginning to understand it, and respond in kind in short phrases, but writing it a struggle still. He tried to get in a little immersion here and there, using the old tongue around the house for simple exchanges. That had gotten him in a rather pleasant sort of trouble when he greeted Lyri one morning by calling her his “Rìbhinn Airgid” or “Bonny silver lass”. The morning run started a bit late after that one.

Mac had also spent a few afternoons with a borrowed earth mover. He had scraped a 300m long shallow ramp into the ground along the clearing that had been made for the landing strip, and he had piled all the dirt up and packed it down into what he called a ‘shooting berm’. It was time to fulfill a promise.

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The day came, and Mac awoken early to the smell of cooking meat. He groaned a little before surrendering to consciousness as he threw some shorts on and stumbled down the stairs. ‘This does not get any easier without coffee’ he mused as he wandered into the kitchen to see what Lyri had concocted for breakfast.

Lyrian had forcibly taken a more traditional Delmar female roles around the house. The kitchen was her domain at breakfast. If Mac wasn’t grabbing a glass of water for himself, hanging out for a conversation or showing her a new human dish, he was banned from the kitchen until at least lunch. No cooking, no cleaning, nothing. She had also flatly refused to let him help her clean up after meals at all until he began teasing her incessantly with little nips and kisses on her neck and shoulders while her hands were too busy to defend herself against his wandering finger. After a few… delays… in after lunch cleanups, she had relented to joint cleanup for lunch and dinner. Breakfast remained sacredly her Queendom, and she was damn good at it.

This morning went no different. Breakfast was meat and protein heavy. Lyri had graduated to 1.6 Delmar gravities at home a week ago. Her strength was getting more defined. Her body continued to hold its female physique. She would never bulge or bulk up like a Terran body builder. Her strength was long, sleek, and lean, her arms, legs and core were more defined, and she no longer had to flex for her abdominal muscles to hint at their potential. Mac had also been adding weight to his vest. He was up to double what he needed to be his Terran weight. He was bulking up a bit. He wasn’t going for anything crazy; but he liked the progress, and it kept him from feeling like he was slacking off, considering how hard his Lyri was working.

He rounded the corner, following the smell of ‘bacon’ and some kind of egg. “Smells good, luv.” He said as she looked up hearing his voice. She was wearing a running top, not unlike a sports bra and short running shorts. She looked him over for a moment and bit her lower lip with a fang, seeing him shirtless. She must have picked that mannerism up from one of his movies. He took a few steps toward her snagging her by the waist, drawing her in and planting a kiss on her. He couldn’t manhandle her as easily now, but she liked to let him anyway. He had asked why once, “The claiming is a paradox. The female gets to possess the mind, and some would say the7 soul, of her mate; but in doing so she is also surrendering a significant part of her will to him.” she had said.

He felt the discipline it took on her part, as she pulled away from him after a moment. She leaned back, with both hands on his chest, his hands still interlocked about the small of her back, “We don’t have time, you promised guns.” she whispered. He smiled, then broke through her defenses with a squeeze and planted a kiss/nip on her neck.

“I know, I’ll go pack up” he said before breaking away from her entirely, dodging the swat of a dish towel. She gave him a pointed look as he retreated up the stairs to the gun case.

Breakfast, a run, and a shower later, both were walking out past the hanger to the improvised shooting range, Mac had finished earlier in the week. Mac had acquired a plasma ‘rifle’ and a laser pistol, and he started by having her shoot something familiar first. He observed her safety habits. The targets were a large, watermelon sized fruit that he had been given since they had gone bad from sitting too long. He had about a dozen, but only three were out right now. Delmar had very little in the way of civilian support for martial sports, so Mac could not just pop down to the gun store for targets. He had to make do.

Lyrian had been around ranged weapons before due to her training requirements to crew Traveler. She knew how to be safe, unfortunately this is where Mac ran into some blatant differences in galactic weapons development.

The laser pistol was universal inside the GU. Visually it reminded a second or 3rd generation of a buck rodgers ray gun. Sleeker, and less retro, but still very ‘1980’s futurism’. The weapon had no recoil, generally did an acceptable amount of damage, and was the easiest to make in sidearm form. It held 20 shots worth of charge, but the power pack could not be replaced without tools. When you ran out, you were done. It also had an overheating tendency. If it were fired as fast as it could cycle, it would automatically disengage the button that served as the trigger after 7 shots to prevent overheated and allow the weapon to cool down to a certain point before allowing more shooting. Lyrian fired it the same way Mac had seen the scientists first fire his handgun. She turned her body to the side with one arm stretched out in what a Terran would consider 18th century duelist shooting position. She was a fair shot with the laser pistol. Making 5 quick hits out of 7shots before she put the weapon down to cool.

The plasma ‘rifle’ was next. It too had no noticeable recoil, it was chunkier than the laser pistol with a square brick of a power pack sticking out of the side. It also sported a curved butt-plate, not unlike a Pennsylvania long rifle. This weapon could only fire 8 times before reloading. The power pack doubled as a heat sink and was too hot to touch by the 6th round. Instead, the user was to fire until empty. The weapon then auto ejected the power pack, and the heat it was storing, to be replaced with a fresh pack by the user. On top of being unwieldy and low capacity, the projectile it fired was a cartoonish imitation of a Star Wars blaster bolt. The plasma “bolt” was shaped like a rugby ball, and the plasma and containment field projectile traveled about the speed of a hand thrown clay pigeon. It did do more damage. The laser pistol had put neat, cauterized Holes in its melon, but the plasma projectile set the target on fire while flash boiling its internals. It was effective, if it got to its target that is.

Satisfied with Her habits and general weapons handling, Mac picked up his personal carry pistol. All the weapons for today were laid out on the hand build wooden shooting bench with their respective actions open, full magazine save one round set next to them. And a single round on top of each magazine.

“Good, I’m glad I don’t have to train safely, we can get to the fun stuff.” Mac started, handing the empty pistol to her, “this is a gauss pistol, it holds and points much like the laser pistol. This is what it shoots.” Max held up the loose pistol cartridge. The caliber was a direct descendant from 357 sig, accept the 9mm hollow point projectile was now a 7mm dart shaped projectile with 2mm thick sabot.

“Only part pressed onto the front is the projectile, the brass bit holds a capacitor that is used to power the firing sequence for one shot. It is then ejected out of the port on the top,” Mack explained while picking up the magazine, “and another, what we call a ‘cartridge’, is stripped out of here” he handed the magazine to her “and placed in the firing position in the barrel.” Mac finished. He let her look at the magazine for a moment before he took it from her. “Ok, pull the slide, the part on the top, back slightly and let it go.” She did so and the slide slammed home with a clunk, “alright, take a shooting stance, I’ll be adjusting it for this new weapon.

She took the same right-handed pistol pose as before, and Mac slowly walked around behind her. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, lifting slightly to support her as he used his left foot to slide her left leg and foot forward, her hips followed her foot until she was square to the target melon with her feet shoulder width apart. “Ben your knees slightly, love. And shift your weight to the balls of your feet” he coached as he ran his left hand up between her shoulder blades and gently pressed forward until she was leaning slightly over her toes.

He then pulled her waist shifting her hips and core slightly to balance out into an isosceles stance. He finished her repositioning by taking her left hand and placing it in the gap of the grip left by her right hand, rotating her wrist forward until her left thumb was sitting under her right and her left-hand fingers were wrapped around her right hand. He squeezed her hands, “this weapon has recoil, because it is a high velocity mechanically cycling kinetic. Squeeze the grip with about half of your grip strength to retain control before you fire. There is no button, the trigger is a mechanical lever that releases a firing pin. Pull straight back and let it be a surprise when it goes off. The three dots you see on the tabs on top? They are the rear leaf and front post of your sights. Line the dots up in a row and place the center dot on the target. Go ahead and try it.” He stepped back and watched her as her finger found the trigger and squeezed….. *CLICK* the striker fell, and she barely flinched, but after not before. That was a good sign.

“Well done, now let’s try it for real,” he walked over to her left side and placed the magazine in her left hand. “Insert it in the grip, pointy part of the ammunition towards the target, and pull back on the slide as hard as you can. then let it go.”

Lyri did so and the weapon was soon loaded and ready. Mac nodded, “These do not overheat like laser pistols. You have 16 rounds; you can shoot many many magazines before the pistol becomes overheated. Put your earmuffs and glasses on and take your time. You may fire when ready.”

Mac had elected to leave hearing protection off until she was ready so that she could hear his instruction. She set the pistol down and donned her muffs and glass. She picked up the pistol once more and took the two-handed stance once more. A few moments later the weapon in her hand bucked as the pistol’s voice range out.

Gauss weapons had a strange report. They used no gunpowder, so the traditional boom of a chemical explosion seemed pointedly absent. This brought to the fore a quick piercing shriek of metal as the sabot interacted with the rifling, an electrical pop of rapidly discharged electricity that sounded like an industrial grade solid state fuse failing, and the crack of the projectile breaking the sound Barrier as the dart left the diminutive handheld weapon at just over 900 meters per second.

Lyri grunted in surprise as the shot rang out. The weapon bucked in her hand as the muzzle tilted up and the sliding part on top slammed to the rear, spitting out a brass cylinder missing its tip, then slammed back into position. She wasn’t, however, gasping entirely at the weapons’ movements. She was staring at the melon she had hit, or rather, where the melon used to be. The skin had peeled away as the fruit’s meat exploded from the inside, disintegrating as the shockwave of the projectile turned the fluid inside the melon into an incompressible water hammer. There was nothing bigger than her little finger left intact of the melon. “Holy shit!“ she half chuckled, half gasped in English. She readjusted herself back to the strange, but solid stance that Mac had put her in, lined up on the melon with the laser pistol holes in it, and erased it from existence with a gentle squeeze of the trigger. This time, she had her grip pressure a little more correct and the weapon bucked less in her hands.

2 hours later, she had fired both Human pistol and Rifle. She liked the ‘Steyr’ better than the pistol. Things were beginning to wind down as Mac called her over to the Steyr one last time. He had a magazine already loaded in it.

“Last lesson, full auto.” He said, and she looked at him confused. “You have been firing one shot every time you pull the trigger. If I flip this switch over to here” he did so “as long as you hold the trigger down, you will keep shooting until you release.” He handed her favorite back her and stood behind her with a hand pressed gently, yet firmly between her shoulder blades.

“Now, lean into the weapon, almost to the point of falling forward…” he nodded as she did so, but he kept pressure on her back, “Good, now aim for the middle of the berm, when I yell fire, you squeeze the trigger, no surprise this time, squeeze deliberately and say ‘Die motherfucker die’. ” he spoke the phrase in English “Release the trigger on the last word.” He finished. She nodded, leaning in a little bit more and putting the dot of her rifle’s optical sight in the middle of the berm.

“FIRE!” Mac barked, and Lyri squeezed.

She could feel her mouth moving, but her voice was drowned out by the unrequited wrath bellowing from Gauss rifle on full auto. The dot rose a bit, but stayed on the berm as she ripped 6 rounds off before she uttered the second ‘die’ and released the trigger.

“Good, again. Fire!” mac ordered, and Lyri ripped off a 7-round burst. And let out a squeal of delight.

“Again!” And Lyrian ripped off another burst. Mac withdrew his hand from her back, and they repeated this twice more before the magazine ran dry. Lyri could see whispers of heat quaver off the barrel at the end of her weapon. Her heart was pounding with exhilaration. She slowly lowered the weapon, extracting the magazine and leaving the bolt open on its last round hold open tab. She looked over to Mac and saw him beaming at her.

She clutched the Steyr ‘Aug-G’, taking care to not burn herself, “can I keep it!” She begged.

“HAHAHA, sure. It’s yours, my baby is currently with Doctor Quin.” Mac laughed.

They finished packing up and headed for home. Lyri refused to release her new rifle until it was time to put it in the safe, Smiling like a kid at Christmas the entire time.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

As they were finishing up, Mac got a message from the ‘Brothers Grem’. They wanted to show him something. He made a quick trip down to the Hanger and climbed into the cockpit of concord. He wasn’t sure about his missiles, and they were classified anyway, but he wanted to get a 34GAU projectile to the twins. He had used up a substantial portion of his ammunition. The twin rotary MAC cannons were Concords Primary weapons due to quirk of space combat making missiles susceptible to point defense when inside of the shield bubble diameters of capital ships. The small steel wrapped tungsten packages of Wrath traveling at relativistic speeds were harder to shoot down. Mac activated the jam clear function on his left gun and shut back down. He hopped down to pick up the 30mm dart still wrapped in its sabot. He jogged back to the house and tossed in his ‘day pack’ he stuffed in Vito whenever he went anywhere.

“Let’s go! I’m flying.” Lyrian bounded down the stairs in her typical attire and stole the key fob from their hook. Mac just chuckled and followed her out to Vito.

“You make an offer I canna’ refuse.” he said sliding into the passenger seat.

30 seconds later they were off headed to meet their favorite pair of twin aerospace eggheads. “They seem pretty dam exciting.. excited.” Lyri said. She was practicing her English.

“They do, I wonder what they’ll show us.” Mac chuckled in English as she corrected herself.

“Boolits” Lyri said with a confident, if slightly garbled pronunciation.

“How you figure?” Mac asked.

“Well, it’s what you showed them lastly.. last. Assuming you don’t have any metals in them that we … uh.. ‘can’t’ get, and auto fab should be able to… ‘duplicate’ it.

“ Can’t and Duplicate” Mac offered as she nodded as he filled in the blanks she had used Delmar instead of of English. She was doing quite well for someone who had only recently started learning.

“I hadn’t thought of that, honestly. My home-world doesn’t have autofabs as such. At least not on a mass scale.” Mac pondered

“And I need more boolits” Lyri said, deliberately mispronouncing the term this time, with an unrepentant smirk.

“Yes, we need more boolits” he said imitating her with a smile.

“I also need replacement ammunition for Concord. I can’t share the classified tech in my missiles, but I’m hoping I can have possible cannon ammunition made. I fear we will need it.” Mac said somberly.

“But not yet. Darclemus spoke as much. The Satellite didn’t pick up any details. Just the act. Unity has always been fairly hesitant to intercede in Confederation business. We have time.” She reassured him with an arm squeeze.

“I hope so… I worry. We haven’t received a transmission. And we will need to sweep the system constantly now…” Mac’s tone was one of an overwhelmed man.

“God dammit, I’m a fucking fighter pilot... I never had the head for broader tactics…” he struggled not to punch the upholstery.

“Bi ciùin a ghràidh (Be calm my love)” Lyri pushed calm through their link, “Fàg an trioblaid a-màireach a bhith (leave the problem tomorrow to be)”

He felt her do it and took a deep breath, raising an eyebrow at her use of Gaelic, “Tha thu air a bhith a 'cumail a-mach orm (You’ve been holding out on me)”

“Dìreach beagan (Just a little)” she gave him a sheepish grin.

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Professors Grem turned as the door to the cavernous building turned ballistics laboratory slid open and a familiar pale skinned alien and bubbly Delmar female stepped through. “AH! There you are! Come, come! “, he waved them over to a countertop where the other of Macs rifles sat facing out to where a variety of targets stood against an angled and pitted backstop that angled steeply into a pit that appeared to be full of a kind of rubber.

“I see you figured out backstops.” Max greeted the bearded twin with a handshake. Doctor Quinn smiled at the gesture and returned it.

“We did indeed, the hard way I’m afraid. Luckily no injuries. Just a scarred tree or two. Here, come I have a surprise for you!”

Doc turned to pick up a rifle cartridge and handed it to Mac. Mac turned it over in his hand before flipping it to look the cartridge base with a raised eyebrow.

“This isn’t my cartridge... you didn’t.” Max said in shock.

“Sadly no, we didn’t. That is our prototype cartridge. It will fit and feed in the rifle you graciously lent us. It will not fire, however. Your capacitor technology is brilliant. We can almost replicate it, but we are still figuring out how to produce one component. I know you are not a scientist, but what can you tell me about the micro sheets of pure carbon that replace the traditional metal foil spirals?” Professor Bart Grem walked up to join the conversation.

“Ah, humanity calls it ‘Graphene’ and it’s a sheet of pure carbon bonded in a hexagonal pattern exactly one molecule thick. As for the rest, sorry. I just know that because it’s history to me. It was discovered then mass produced around 200 of your years ago.” Mac scratched the back of his head and shrugged.

“I was afraid of that. It was a long shot, but you have given us something. Your description confirms what we thought we knew and gives us direction. Ah! Yes, to return your weapon to you” the bearded Professor Grem picked up a case from under the testing bench and handed it to Mac who froze when he took the handle. It was heavy enough that his rifle was in the case, but there was clearly a rifle still on the…

Mac realization was interrupted by a tech sprinting through the doors “SIR! Contact! The station reports incoming data!!! It’s in the code that Mackenzie gave us!!”