Howitzer

Lunar Security Authority Case File #2489-0-1

Transcript

Location: Moonside Bar and Cafe, Spar B, Conrad Spaceflight Terminal, Luna

Date: March 12th, 2386 ESY

Participants: Sean Lecuyer (POI 1), Albin Robertson (POI 2)

Transcript Notes: Transcript begins after cessation of loud background music.

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

POI 1: -wasting space and load. For what? Poor rate of fire, poor accuracy, poor performance against armor. They’re vestigial arms. At best.

POI 2: Well, some gunhands don’t have the money or the means - I repeat myself - to bolt on and maintain something better. I’m not talking about the cream of the crop reaching for them.

POI 1: Pardon me. I forgot there are still some poor independents relying on horse-drawn artillery out on Neptune.

POI 2: [laughter] Of all things. They ever take horses to them far colonies? Maybe- nevermind. I’ve heard this part before. Just get a laser. Is that what you were going to say next? What do I win?

POI 1: Indeed. Smart people arrive predictably at objectively correct answers. You are lucky to work with me, you’re learning by osmosis.

POI 2: Aw, come on, now. Beamer’ll quit when the focusing assembly takes a whack, or when a load of dust is in the air. Or-

POI 1: Fair enough. But a railgun, particle cannon, autocannon even, won’t suffer the same. Literally anything else capable of some precision. This is the hill you want to die on, Albin? Howitzers? I knew you were addled. They don’t change the air scrubbers too often in your block, do they? [Sound of liquid pouring]

POI 2: Look, I get it. I know your kind, to-mo-dashee. You corpo types always had access to the good stuff, stickers still on it. Must be nice! [belch] Down there, we took what we could get. Most of the system is still held together with speed tape and prayers. And I’ll bet you a round you’d be surprised at just what a big ol’ howitzer can do.

POI 1: [sigh] Tomodachi. Okay, I’ll bite. Against what?

POI 2: [laughter] Oh, a mob of shooters in the rubble, or in the bush, gun trucks, modded lifters with a cannon or two. You know, the kind of stuff half the fighters out there are using these days. Even mil-spec vees, the light ones.

POI 1: For those threats, any weapon would do.

POI 2: Okay. But you’re missing it, Lecuyer. Howitzers are out there and they are easy. The guns and the ammo. They’re everywhere. Simple explosives, simple fusing, no exotic stuff, no intricate bits. A half-decent tech can keep one running forever, and make their own barrels or spares with a minifacturing setup in a machine shop.

POI 1: Hm. I'll concede the procurement element.

POI 2: Score! Damn right you will. Listen, I was on Earth, about five years back. England. Little settlement defense job. Now those folks were barely scraping by. Benefactor paid for it, I still can’t figure out why. They had two rigs fitted with howitzers, literal old tank guns they’d rustled up.

POI 1: Skip to the end. They saved the day?

POI 2: [laughter] Snipe all you want, softhands. Looters tried to hit us, and our guys dropped three shells into a passel of dudes on foot. It was dogfood for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Rest run like roaches when the kitchenette lightstrip came on. Their transport was chewed up real bad by shrap, too. That’s all she wrote!

POI 1: High explosives must always be respected, regardless of delivery method. But against hardened targets, an opponent with actual armor? You're not cracking an HE-V’s defenses without a very lucky hit.

POI 2: That's not what it's for. But, it’ll ring their bell. And I’ve never seen any rig, even Echelon’s fancy finest, stand if you can drop multiple hits on them-.

POI 1: Hope is not a strategy for victory, Albin.

POI 2: [coughing] Sir. Sir! They’ll do, and they'll still keep you alive when all this other crap breaks down. It already has, eh? And it always does. Thus endeth the sermon. [sounds of drinking]

POI 1: Albin, you are a compelling argument for in-utero genetic resequencing. But, I have to admit that I admire your grit. I’m still not installing a howitzer, though.

POI 2: [laughs] Give it time. You’ll come around to my way of thinking when we’re four months from resupply and your laser’s quit working.

POI 1: Perish the thought.

POI 2: A toast to that! [glass clinking] You’re alright, Lecuyer. You’re alright. How about another?

POI 1: Please. You're buying. Waitress?

POI 2: The hell! I take it all back, you miserly ass-

[background noise intensifies]

TRANSCRIPT ENDS

Illustration by Florian Mellies