“Civilization was born from a desire to separate
the animal from the human,
the base from the divine.”
Director Antonio Bianculli
Arms Master Goldsmith stood before Ottavio behind a Perspex window. He stood awkwardly, his boa constrictor arms barely allowed him to place his hands rigidly behind his back and the camouflage shirt that was stretched across his broad chest threatened to give out at any moment. The cap he wore, indoors or outside, was old and battered but fit his head perfectly.
“Welcome to arms training, Agent,” he said, with a surprisingly smooth voice, “Today we will commence the first of many exercises to get you fit for field duty.”
His face was a map of history, pitted and gravelly from the abuse it suffered during the war. “You will be working with live rounds, agent. You will listen and follow each and every order I give while you are within this range.”
“Ahem,” came a voice.
Doctor Jung tottered in from behind Goldsmith, who raised his eyes to the heavens. “And any orders from Doctor Jung,” sighed Goldsmith.
Jung smiled with satisfaction and adopted the same stance of Goldsmith. He looked even more awkward.
Goldsmith cleared his throat and continued, “Right. Now I know I had you for basic arms training several years ago, and I understand you know how to handle a firearm, but this is different. I have been informed that you have, um, appendages...”
“Adaptations, Benjamin,” corrected Jung.
Goldsmith bit his lip, “That you will need to come to terms with...”
“Calibrate.”
Goldsmith winced. Perhaps it was better to get started.
“No point standing around yapping, agent. Turn around. Before you is a firing range. Normally, as you would remember, you would be learning with other recruits, but because of your special needs, you will be getting one on one training. Go and stand over by the left range and don't touch anything!”
Ottavio did so. Placed on the ledge were several pistols. He resisted the urge to pick them up.
“Very good, at least you can follow basic orders. Now in front of you is a blue pistol. This pistol is not live. It's a... um,” he sighed, “The Doc can tell you more about it.”
Jung cleared his throat and spoke, “Yes, thank you Benjamin. This pistol will be used to, um, calibrate your hand to eye coordination. You see, yes, we can use the accelerometers, force meters and geometric locators placed throughout your body to determine the attitude of any weapon, or other such, ah, device, held on your person. Anything from a pistol grip, to a rifle grip all the way up to a shoulder mounted device, like an RPG or grappling hook launcher. But primarily you will be dealing with your issued sidearm, so we will start with this. Arms Master, we shall start with the blue pistol.”
Goldsmith got into his element, “Right agent, pick up the blue pistol that you see in front of you, keeping your finger away from the goddamn trigger! Note the weight and feel of it. Good. Hold it by your side, keep that elbow slightly bent. There is a screen to your right, look at it!”
On the screen a series of patterns and shapes flashed, before going black. “Righto agent, now look back to the firing range and raise your weapon,” barked Goldsmith.
Ottavio did so. A target popped up a short distance away. It was patterned in a strange set of curved grids.
“We shall begin the calibration now, Arms Master,” said Doctor Jung, “Agent, aim down the site and shoot the target a few times. Don't worry, there are no, um, live rounds in that pistol, only a laser which shall be used to provide feedback.”
Ottavio lined up the pistol with the center of the target and squeezed the trigger a few times. A little red dot shone on the target and the screen beeped happily.
“Nice work. Now the target will be moved further away. Just do the same thing.”
“And then we'll get on to some live rounds,” grumbled Goldsmith, not at all content with fancy words and lasers.
“Yes, yes, Benjamin,” Jung hushed, “All in good time. Agent, continue on.”
As the target moved back, Ottavio watched as the distance displayed by the optical processor ticked away. It stopped at twenty meters.
“As soon as you wish, agent,” urged Jung.
After a series of shots the target was moved successively backward, until finally it slid quickly back to its original position. “Good, good. You have already got a decent coordination, it seems, so this should be, ah, smooth,” called Jung happily, “Look to the screen again and whatever you do, do not look away until I say. Yes? Do not even blink. I am going to upload the calibration information that we have just gleaned to your processors. Sort of a, um, hang on, a starting, um, standby... there. That was not so bad, eh? Now, hum, try a shot without aiming down the sights!”
To his surprise, a set of cross-hairs appeared on his optical display. They moved about roughly as he adjusted the pistol in his hands. He squeezed the trigger and watched as the red laser dot appeared close to the middle of the cross hairs.
Goldsmith spoke, “You will find that the cross hairs you see are an approximation only, and that each and every pistol you use will be different.”
Jung interrupted quickly, “But still the cross hairs are a vast improvement on, um, snap shooting...”
“Every round of every firearm is unique and should be treated as such, be it single-shot, burst or auto-fire,” continued Goldsmith earnestly, “There are also factors of kick-back, differences in the barrel and projectile, misfires, cross, head and tail winds, heck even humidity in the air if we're talking about a rifle over a distance. While I understand the benefits of this assisted hand-eye coordination bullshit, nothing can beat practical experience.”
“Bullsh...? Benjamin, really, I... I am stunned,” blustered Jung, his face turning a shade of vermilion. He calmed himself down, daubing his forehead with his handkerchief.
“This level of development has superseded Tsang-Tao's own development. With their system, the weapon performs the work of feedback via a unique uplink, and thus their troops are limited to using only Tsang-Tao issued weaponry, and only those that have been commissioned to the soldier. There's no, um, scope for picking up a weapon dropped in field, or trading weapons between troops,” he said.
“All the same, practical experience...”
“Is a valuable asset, don't get me wrong. But we can always assist it, Benjamin. You'd be surprised with, um, what we can do with nano-processors these days.”
Goldsmith snorted, “You'd be surprised the difference a few percentage points of humidity makes to a shot.”
“Well I'll have you know that actually we are working on a new algorithm that takes into account the, er, state of the subject's own interpretation of environmental factors to provide...”
“Geez! Move to the next pistol agent, we're going to have some live firing already,” barked Goldsmith, cutting Professor Jung off, “This is the HK 17-S, one of the newer pistols on the market. This has a low kickback, but at the same time less stopping power. Its primary use is for close range and covert operations, hence the adapter for a silencer. In the field, do not try this against body armor, but instead go for the soft points, joints and limbs, to disable an enemy. Go ahead, pick it up and feel the weight.”
Jung squealed, “But do not fire just yet! I have not changed the targets over! Wait!” The target whizzed away and was replaced by a conventional set of concentric red and white circles.
Goldsmith grimaced. Jung was beginning to get on his nerves. “Can we proceed now, Doc?”
“Yes, yes. No! Wait, we forgot...”
“Let go of a couple of rounds, agent,” shouted Goldsmith, drowning out the babblings of Doctor Jung. Ottavio happily brought up the pistol and felt the satisfying crack, followed by the smell of gunpowder as he squeezed the trigger. He left the target peppered with bullet holes.
Goldsmith laughed heartily. His camouflage shirt did not see the funny side.
“Sorry Doc,” he laughed, “You were saying?”
Jung crossed his arms haughtily, “That was unnecessary, Benjamin. I was merely saying that we forgot to inform Miss Penelope. She insisted on being here to view the results of the new class of implant.”
“Well how about you go and get her, and we'll continue on here, eh?” said Goldsmith.
“And leave you without a scientific body to, um, answer pertinent questions? I think not!”
“Suit yourself. That next pistol is the P-66, standard issue firearm, forty caliber round adaptable to armor piercing or anti-personnel rounds. And yes, we have EMP, explosive and incendiary rounds as well and no you won't be using them unless you need to because they're bloody expensive and travel pretty much the same as armor piercing rounds, so don't bother asking! Also, you may be lucky enough to be a tester for some of our other kinds of rounds in development.”
“Other kinds?” asked Ottavio.
“Yes,” ejaculated Jung, overeager to explain the goings on in his research teams, “We have two of special note. Well, um, we have more than two, but, um, two that you would care about. There's the, ah, 'rad rounds' and the plasma shells. The rad rounds, as their name suggests, are loaded with a small quantity of radioactive material. Now, I know what you're thinking, but they're perfectly safe.”
Ottavio looked unsure.
Doctor Jung proceeded to convince him, “No, um, you see the two compounds are practically inert, but upon impact they are thrust together!” He clapped his hands demonstratively, proud of the effect.
“When they hit, a millisecond, well, a few nanoseconds or so later, I won't, um, bore you with the exact details, yes, but a short time later a shower of gamma rays is emitted. You can think of it as explosive radiation.”
Goldsmith grimaced, “And what good is that supposed to do, doc? Give our enemies a bad case of suntan?”
“No, you misunderstand, my learned, um, compatriot. While a round into living tissue would certainly cause damage, and, ah, an increased risk of cancerous tumors, um, these rounds are immediately destructive to memory chips and other capacitive devices, pretty much scrambling the circuitry,” said Jung. He propped his thumbs to his chest proudly.
Ottavio nodded, “Not bad, doc. Take out the circuitry and leave the mechanics intact, eh?”
“That's the plan. And then there are the plasma shells. We've got them rigged up for firing from a shotgun, although we are working on a smaller, um, variety for, ah, pistols and rifles and the like. They won't be in production or even testing yet, no, um, mostly because we are still trying to keep the rounds stable while in flight. We've got the electromagnetic containment working fine, it's just that sometimes it fails, prematurely releasing the plasma while it’s still in the barrel. Um, my idea about a toroidal delivery design is more...”
“Dammit Otto, stop giving him an audience,” demanded Goldsmith, “We've got a whole lot more to get through.”
Jung looked hurt. “I was merely informing you both...”
“Why don't you go and grab Miss Penelope, eh? I'm sure I can handle a few minutes without a significant scientific presence.”
Jung frowned and left the room to the obvious relief of Goldsmith.
“Thank God for that. Hopefully she's on the other side of complex,” grumbled Goldsmith, “Let's get through a couple more pistols before he gets back. Unfortunately we'll need him for calibrating the rifles and heavy weapons. Anyway, Agent, look alive! Check your magazine!”
Ottavio slid out the magazine and inspected it.
“Now, note that your pistol is not loaded. There are magazines in front of you. The red one is anti-personnel, the blue is armor piercing, the green is your general purpose lead slug. Load up the GP's, agent, and empty the magazine at the target before the egg-head gets back.”
Ottavio slid the magazine in and it clicked neatly into place. The target slid back to thirty meters and waited while Ottavio cracked off twelve shots. The target was spattered with a neatly placed collection of holes.
Goldsmith barked, “What are you waiting for, agent? Press that little button on the side, drop out that mag and load up the AP rounds!”
Ottavio hastily did so.
“Steady on there, agent. Note that the charge in each round is slightly heavier, so you'll get a bigger kickback. Peel off a couple just to get a feel.”
Ottavio's cross-hair display wiggled and squirmed as he fired. He found he had to fight harder to keep it steady.
“Bit more of a mule, eh? Finish that in three round bursts, then load up the Shredders.”
Ottavio gripped the pistol and soon emptied the magazine. He picked up the red magazine, locked it in and stood at the ready.
“Anti-personnel rounds are slower moving, not that you'd notice, and also a little heavier. What makes them different is that they splinter on entry, creating a larger area of soft tissue damage. You hit a soft target with an AP and it'll make a pinhole clean through to the other side, spending most of its energy on whatever is on the other side. Shredders don't do much for penetration but they sure as hell make a mess. Wait up. Let me just change the target over... there.”
A silhouette of a man slid into view. Goldsmith's voice became serious, “If you need to disable a target go for a lead slug in the knee, break out a stun gun, gas him, use bad language, whatever. When using Shredders you shoot to kill, not wound or maim, you got me? Alright, give me three head shots, three chest shots and three liver shots. Go.”
Ottavio did his best, leaving the target with several well-spaced holes.
“You see what I'm saying about them cross-hairs? They're a rough guide only. The weight and shape of the Shredders makes them inaccurate at anything further than a stone's throw, but don't let that deter you if you need to make a shot. Aw, crud.”
The door slid open and Doctor Jung came puffing in with Miss Penelope in tow. A white coated man hustled in just before the doors slid shut.
“Did I miss much?” asked Miss Penelope to Goldsmith.
“No, ma'am. We were just about to move onto the Desert Eagle.”
“Good,” she said, “Act like we are not here.”
Doctor Jung mopped his brow, “And I do hope you informed him of the effects of kickback on his assisted hand eye coordination?”
“More or less,” grunted Goldsmith. Not wishing to let Jung start a lecture he quickly added, “Agent, make that pistol safe and pick up the next one. This is a Desert Eagle. Normally an agent would need to work up to this but Doctor Jung has assured me that your physical attributes are up to scratch. Fifty caliber rounds are substantially more powerful than your forty. If you need stopping power, this is your weapon of choice. Load up and clean out a magazine!”
Ottavio's ears rang as the pistol jerked and punched his palm. The target resembled Swiss cheese. “Seven shots is a small magazine, granted, so be sure to make each shot count. You don't want to be caught out reloading. You also might have guessed that this isn't designed for silent work. Load up again and give me two head shots, two chest and two liver shots, and this time take a bit more time to aim after each round!”
While Ottavio worked on his aim, Miss Penelope watched on as her assistant tapped away at a touchpad. Ottavio finished and waited patiently.
Doctor Jung coughed and Goldsmith sighed, “Well and good, agent, you're coming along nicely. You will get more practice with reactions, aiming and weapons maintenance later on this week. Right now, we need to move onto small arms and rifles. Please stand in the red zone while I prep the area, and for God's sake don't leave it until I tell you to.”
Ottavio walked away, stood inside a red circle and waited while Goldsmith came out from behind the Perspex and replaced the pistols with a series of rifles. Once he was safely back behind the Perspex he called to Ottavio to return to the range.
“Now I would prefer to get straight into it, but Doctor Jung insists that you need to be recalibrated for use with two handed weapons. As before, pick up the blue rifle.”
After a short while Ottavio's cross-hairs were aligned properly. Jung gave a nod and Goldsmith proceeded with his lesson, “The first weapon across is your MP-14. Nine millimeter rounds fired from a machine-pistol. You've got a retractable stock, iron sights and burst or automatic fire. Indispensable in a close fight, practically useless at medium to long range. It's got a high rate of fire, allowing you to empty out a complete twenty five round magazine in under two seconds, so control the urge to spray and pray. Instead, use controlled bursts.”
Ottavio used two magazines, alternating between single and burst shots. The targets whizzed away and were quickly replaced.
“Nice. It's also a fairly easy to reload, as you can see. The only thing I find is that if you don't slap the mag hard enough it has a tendency to drop out when firing. A fairly significant design flaw, if you ask me.”
Jung butted in, “One that will shortly be rectified, hmm, we have put pressure on our suppliers, um, to...”
“But for now, you've been warned. This next is your Fairchild Mark Two assault rifle, 'Betty'. The Mark One, 'Annie', saved my hide on more than one occasion. But that was then, and this is now. Five point five six millimeter rounds tucked into a twenty four round magazine. Not so useful in covert ops or tight spaces, you will definitely want one of these by your side if you're caught in an urban fire fight.”
Ottavio hefted it against his shoulder. It fit comfortably and pushed back firmly as he squeezed the trigger.
“You get to play with that more next week. Right now, pick up that shotty,” said Goldsmith, aware of the expectant group behind him. He would have preferred to take his time, take things a little slower to give Ottavio a bit more advice. Too many agents raced through the course, learned how to fire and how to kill, but not so much when and why. Experience and discretion, he mused, was not something that could be 'downloaded'.
“The SP-26 shotty, pump action reload, six rounds in the tube and one in the chamber. It's adaptable to fire anti-personnel, EMP and incendiary rounds. As before, we're not going to be playing with the latter because they're expensive and behave pretty much the same. Close range it's lethal but at anything more than thirty yards you'll just be making noise.”
“Right, now if you could move into the room on your right, we'll practice demolitions.”
Goldsmith went through the finer points of grenades, mines, time bombs and rocket propelled grapnels as Miss Penelope chatted quietly with Doctor Jung.
“How would you rate his progress so far?” she asked.
“Well, it's, um, early days yet, Miss Penelope. He's only really gotten to start to know his limitations. We haven't properly discussed his dietary requirements or, um, energy expenditure, not in detail. It might be worthwhile putting him through the rig until he burns up,” he said, dabbing his forehead. He was not a fan of explosives, even if there were several solid Perspex walls separating himself from them.
“What about his mental state? I would argue that is of more importance.”
Doctor Jung flinched as flash-bang went off.
“Um, yes. All things considered, I think he is coping just fine. He did express some, um, distress in relation to being modified, that he did not ask for it, but I think he has come to accept it. We have not switched on any of the higher functions, yet. Things like electronics hacking and lock-picking, well, I think it would be best if he sees other operatives like Agent Norbert in action. That way it will be a natural progression once we do turn them on. Yes.”
Miss Penelope touched her chin. It was the lightest touch, barely making an impression.
“A softly, softly approach? Will the Board appreciate the delay? The whole point was to demonstrate definitively that an operative could withstand the pressures of having full adaptation. They already have examples of partial modifications...”
“Believe me, Miss Penelope, I am very keen to see all implants and software modules firing in unison, but the simple fact remains that many of the modules still have the possibility of causing, hmm, episodes, and I think you and I can both agree that another failure on the scale of Agent Boris could very well sink the Project altogether.”
Miss Penelope waved her hand. “You are referring to Kepler's interference? It was a mistake to involve him.”
“He is making progress very, um, difficult. All this screening, and background checks and... Really, I can't see how security has anything to do with the modifications, or with Agent Boris!”
“You are preaching to the choir, Doctor,” she said.
“Kepler is always meddling, always putting his rubber stamp in the way. Why, if it weren't for him, we would have had Agent Ottavio modified...”
“Adapted...”
“...six months ago! For whatever reason, um, or reasons, I still can't grasp, he outranks Commander Ali. I mean, Ali! He's a war hero! I wouldn't believe that, um, Kepler has even fired a gun,” said Doctor Jung, sweating, “Er, and his current campaign only means that we need to be extra careful, my dear. Yes, if we were to give any reason for him to suspect a security issue, no matter how bizarre the link, he could pull the plug on the whole lot! We have to proceed carefully!”
“All the same, if we continue to pussyfoot around we may well be seen as stalling. We shall lose face, and see the support dwindle until the only choice left is remove all implants and destroy the subjects,” countered Penelope, “In short, if you do not deliver soon, then the Project will be sunk by your own hand. While I will, of course, do my best to keep the lions at bay, I am going to need to toss them a carcass every now and then.”
“Your analogies, my dear, are frightful,” said Doctor Jung, “But I think you've made your point. I will take your advice under, um, consideration. But these things do take time. Even if, for instance, I turned on the Lock-Picking module, he would need at least a week or two in training to perfect it. And then there is the added responsibility of ensuring he, um, understands when and where to apply it, the different types of tumblers out there. The modules only aid, Miss. They cannot perform the duties in and of themselves.”
Penelope watched as Ottavio worked at lobbing grenades. One by one they exploded further down the range, knocking over wooden targets.
“What about combat modules? Surely they can be incorporated in his current routine? The Sure-Arm and Eagle Eye modules need to be field tested,” she offered, “Switching them on now would only save time while he is in basic training...”
Doctor Jung stubbornly shook his head, “No. No, I could not authorize that. Any advanced combat modules are strictly pending his first few missions, and you know this, Miss Penelope. He, um, he could react violently, like Agent Boris, at any stage, making him extraordinarily dangerous should he have those modules active. It cannot be any sooner than the critical modules have been activated and demonstrated in the field.”
“Which critical modules?”
“Berserker, mainly. But also, um, Agility, Friend or Foe and Kung-Fu, at a minimum. But Cat's Eyes, Light Step and Prime Hacker we could simulate in house, if, ah, necessary.”
Miss Penelope's face gently pushed itself into a frown.
Doctor Jung let out a pathetic little laugh, “Ha ha.”
Her face remained unchanged.
“Well, now, um, please do not be upset, Miss Penelope. There is an order and a time schedule for these things, and so long as he lives up to his, ah, hype, then everything will run smoothly, hmm. I assure you, by the end of this year, the subject you see will be a prime example of exactly how much an Agent can be modified.”
“Adapted,” corrected Miss Penelope, letting her face return to normal.
“Ah, yes, of course.”
“We must maintain this line of language. The Luddites have exposed pictures of modified Tsang-Tao troops. They are grainy, but clearly show the abominations that are being produced over there.”
“Yes, Miss Penelope but Project Synergy...”
“