"You point and fire it, same as a projectile weapon," Jons explained, "only there is no bore and no bullet. Instead there is a mechanism inside that transforms the energy stored in the ammo pack," he patted the rather plain-looking square box protruding from the gun's bowels, "into a beam of extremely focused energy. That beam only lasts for an instant. Which is good, because the shorter the beam duration, the more violent the reaction in the target."
He let me hold it. It was much too big for a kid my size, but it was simply the most amazing thing I had ever held in my hands. Even holding Nix for the first time paled in comparison. "I like your laser-gun," I said, pretending to be a bit less knowledgeable about such things than I really was. Not that I was a tech-adept or anything, but I certainly knew the difference between a utility laser and a high-energy weapon.
My feigned, childish ignorance earned me a pat on the shoulder. "It's not a laser. Lasers are tools. This is a lasgun. It shoots a beam of energy, same as a laser, but there the similarities end. This baby can shoot in all kinds of weather, underwater even, and still kill at long range. A laser can't do that. I'm no tech-priest, but this I know is true."
He pointed back down the way we came. "Have a look. Do you see those fellows? The ones sneaking up behind us, trying to stay hidden, but doing a shit job about it?" I nodded. "I guessed as much. You're pretty observant for a kid. Here," he removed the front and back covers from the optics and flipped down the bipod, "have a look at them through the optics. The safety is on, so you won't hurt them."
I did as I was told, and suddenly it looked like Sarge, Mazzo and Roverto were standing right in front of me. Mazzo was up front. If the gun had been live I could just have pulled the trigger, and he would have died.
"Quite something, isn't it? To have the power to decide who lives and who dies. Too bad you don't have that power over your own life." Realizing he was talking about life and death with a nine-year old, he quickly dropped the subject.
I thought it sounded quite reasonable. I had seen enough death over the past year to appreciate the sentiment.
"It's superior in almost every way to a projectile weapon. Being an energy weapon means no moving parts. It's also completely sealed. So no sand in the chamber, no fouling of the barrel. It can be used underwater, in space, under just about any combat conditions. And it will fire straight and true every time. The beam is speed-of-light. You pull the trigger and you hit whatever you're aiming at. There is no ballistics to worry about. A bit of atmospheric diffraction perhaps, but nothing compared to the inherent spread of a gun shooting metal bullets. In short: Perfect for sniping."
He picked the gun out of my hands. I was sad to see it go. "There is almost no recoil, just a little snap when you fire. That comes from the thermal bloom around tip of the barrel, almost like a small explosion of heat." I gave the gun a thoughtful look. "Fortunately it comes with a thermal baffler," he pointed to a longish sleeve of grey ceramite covering the end of the barrel, "to keep my aim steady and to avoid giving away my position to nasty people with preysense sights. If you know what you're doing you can keep your aim though shot after shot. Projectile weapons need suspensors or other shit to compensate. Bulky and inelegant compared to this baby."
He detached the scope and carefully returned it to its padded pouch. "I call it the Eye. Without the Eye it's just another lasgun. It's the Eye and the heart of the shooter that matter. The gun is just a tool."
I nodded in agreement, but I wasn't so sure you actually need a good shooter. "With the Eye anyone can be a sniper," I ventured, "you don't even have to be much of a shot."
Jons shook his head. "No they can't. A sniper has to be more than just a servitor pulling the trigger." He scratched at his temple. "See...the beam is actually invisible, but it excites the hell out of the air, which gives you these bright lines, almost like miniature lightning bolts, only they are straight as razors. They will give away your position if the enemy is observant. DEW lines they are called in the Infantryman's Uplifting Primer. Short for Direct Energy Weapon lines. If you're a real sniper you fire only a few shots before changing positions. Shoot and scoot. End of problem."
I nodded again. It made sense. A sniper was pretty useless if was killed in his first engagement.
Jons got a bright idea and pulled out his own copy of the Guardsman's primer. "Here, take it. There is lots of useful stuff in there. I can get me another, the Commissar won't mind."
I gladly accepted the compact black book with the golden Aquila on the cover. Knowing what the enemy knows is always to your advantage. "Thanks," I said, slipping the book into my satchel.
"But there's more," Jons continued. "You got to know how to stay out of sight. How to pick out the good spots, places where you won't be seen, but where the enemy will pass by within shooting range. Remain motionless for hours or days. Stay cool when the enemy tries to flush you out. That sort of thing."
I nodded more eagerly. I could do that.
"And...perhaps most of all you gotta like shooting people in the head from up close. See their skulls blow apart in a shower of blood, bone and gore. The Eye puts you right there kid. Puts you right there."
He looks at me, catching my eye. "You think you could do that kid? Do it, then sleep well and do it again the next day? Do you have the heart of a sniper?"
I made a single firm nod while meeting his gaze.
"Then I guess you'll be a sniper someday kid. Someday you'll be the man with the Eye, taking shots and calling men to face the God-Emperor's judgment," he said, making the half-Aquila with his free hand.
He turned halfway around and waved the rifle over his head as a signal to the approaching men. "You could come with us when we move. You look like a clever lad. We could have use for one such as you. The Commissar likes you, he'd let you come along."
This was unexpected. "What do you mean? Moving where?" I asked.
"Dunno where, dunno when. But we we'll be moving, sooner or later. Seems we'll be staying here on Protasia for the long haul. Word came down we'll be given settlement rights. Then we won't be Guardsmen no more. We'll all be citizens of Protasia. Or whatever the world is to be called after the rebellion is put down."
"But why not here?" I inquired. This development was somewhat unexpected. "Why not settle here, in Thira?"
"I don't rightly know. Heard there was this Administratum article that forbids guardsmen to settle where they've just kicked the shit out of the locals. Says it's bad for long-term stability and stuff." Jons spits into the dust. "Load of crap if you ask me." His eyes became distant.
He sighed. "No, I bet there is some brass higher up the chain of command that thinks Thira is too nice for the 57th Lo Mechanized - but just about right for their own outfit."
He shifted his position to better observe the approaching trio. "You don't have to decide right away kid, but give it some consideration. If..." he pauses, "when we find your mother ask her if she'd like to come too...good women are hard to come by in this place."
"What about my sister?" I said.
Eli was pretty useless, but family should stick together. And she might just be my ticket out of Thira if Mother was...unavailable.
"What about her?" Jons replied.
"She's a woman too; can she also come?" I asked, putting emphasis on the word 'woman'.
"Didn't know you had a sister...and this sister is how old?"
I consider the question for a moment. "She turned twelve a few months before the first bombs fell. So I guess she's like thirteen and a half now," I said in an innocent voice.
"Takes after your mother, does she?" Jons sounded hopeful.
In more ways than one I thought inside, but on the outside I just nodded again.
"Well, that's a bonus. Yes, she can come too," Jons replied.
Good. Whether or not we found Mother I had secured my passage out of this place.
"And Nix, my canine, can he come too?" I asked in as thin a thin voice as possible.
It was really Jax' canine, but seeing as I was the one that actually cared for it, I had to bring it along.
"You have a dawg?" A smile appeared on his face. "Yes, your dawg can come. Of course it can come!" He laughed heartily. Made me think he used to have a 'dawg' of his own, back when he wasn't a soldier.
"...my brother Jax...what about him?" I said finally, pretending not to already know the answer to the question.
"Sorry son, but your brother is too old." He shook his head for emphasis. "I saw him when I came around last time. He must be what, fourteen or fifteen now? That means he's a man grown on my world. I...the Regiment simply wouldn't allow it."
There was a drawn-out silence.
"You, your mother, your sister, and the dawg - yes. Your brother - no." He said it matter-of-factly. There was no maliciousness in his voice.
"I...guess he'll be all right without us, Sir," I replied, sounding sad. "Him being a man grown and all. It's not like he spends much time around the house...I'll talk to Mother and maybe we'll come without him," I heard myself saying, "but I doubt she'll agree. Family is important to us Protasians," I added for propriety's sake.
I was going to be leaving with Jons it would be best if he had a good impression of me, that he knew what a loyal little fellow I was. No need for him to know I had absolutely no intention of inviting my brother along.