75 MeV Particle Cannon

The taste of hot metal and ozone hung heavy in the warm, cloying air. A particle cannon sat on the oily workshop floor, suspended between two industrial dollies. It didn’t belong; the chrome smoothness of the polished, drum-shaped accelerator housing and the crisp, dove gray finish of the bump cage surrounding it stood out from the worn, grimy machinery of the facility. It wasn’t right. Kasper, arms akimbo, stared at the high-tech, foreign weapon. His HE-V, a weathered Corso, stood forlorn in its maintenance bay just beyond. 

Robotic cranes were easing the gunmetal bulk of his trusty autocannon out of the righthand hardpoint just below the Corso’s cockpit, nearby techs closely supervising. It wasn’t right and he didn’t trust it. Shells, gunpowder; a merc could trust those in a fight. But not protons, or whatever the hell. 

"No way. Naw. You tell ‘em to put that gun back or I will.” Kasper said and glared at the two men, convicted and sure of himself.

Blair, the Yellow Jackets’ quartermaster, stood with one arm folded and his other hand holding his chin. He looked tiredly back at Kasper. "Kass. Want doesn’t get. The job comes first and the job dictates-"

"Man, Blair, I’ve been running that gun for four years. Four years. Thick and thin, it just works. I trust it, damn it."

"How much do you trust it if it can’t shoot?" Blair mirrored Kasper’s posture and stared him down. "You want to talk about a drought, those old stockpiles don’t last forever and WegMa's charging insane rates. Delivery not included, either. We can’t exactly roll our own, can we?"

"We’ll find some, or trade for it. We always manage. We’ve got enough for now, anyway."

"Oh, well, please. Lead on, then and let’s bring it home. Kass, we are desperately low as it is and yours isn’t the only gun to feed," Blair dropped his chin and looked over his glasses at Kasper, eyes serious. “This is how it’s going to be. This isn’t a discussion, and I’ve indulged your tantrums enough, I think. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Kasper grumbled under his breath.

“Got it - what?”

“Yes, sir, I read you.”

“Attaboy. Now will you please hitch up your diaper and listen to the man? Dr. Lawyer, please, continue.” Blair motioned invitingly to the reedy scientist standing placidly to his left.

The third man wore a grubby windshell jacket and cargo pants. One shoulder bore patches affixed to a smart-cling field. One of them read Fargo Scientific Collective in block letters. Below that, the logo of The Selegin Cooperative. The man took a breath and resumed speaking. "Ah, so, this model is a compact particle accelerator, one that pushes electrons to upwards of 75 megaelectronvolts. Unlike predecessor designs, the beam itself provides for its own focusing via atmospheric plasma. The Bennett pinch effect; it’s a well-understood phenomenon, and we’ve refurbished and tested the unit extensively for reliable function. Our own security team members use them." 

Kasper winced as if tasting something sour and turned, watching the crane overhead carry his beloved gun away, deeper into the bay. "Aww, give me a damn break! I don't care how it works, doc," he interrupted. "All I want is that when I pull the trigger, something real and real heavy is going to smash into my target, real hard.” He flicked a hand at the gleaming particle cannon and stared at the FSC man. “This, this ain’t it, nerd."

Blair’s fleshy cheeks reddened and he ripped off his glasses, eyes fiery. "Kasper! God as my witness, you shut your mouth! That’s an order!" 

Dr. Lawyer smiled patiently and did not break the pilot’s gaze. "Mr. Kasper, all weapons, any weapon, is just a practical application of physics. And by understanding physics, it informs us that the most inconsequential, tiny projectile can strike with shattering force if pushed fast enough. This one, though you can’t see or hold it, is more destructive than any explosive shell."

Lawyer stepped past the two men to the dormant energy weapon, and switched smoothly into his practiced sales pitch for cavemen. Blair was sold already, but a surly end-user could bust a deal. It had happened before. Best to win Kasper over.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Kasper. I do. But I don’t think you do yourself.” Kasper’s brow hooded his eyes as he obviously contemplated violence. “Hear me out. The weapon you see here surpasses autocannons entirely, as the firearm once surpassed the bow and arrow. You know that agile targets can sometimes dodge your shells, duck your aim, at long range. Yes? The particle cannon’s electron beam travels at near light speed.” Kasper raised one eyebrow at that, but was otherwise unmoved. 

Lawyer went on. “No flight time, no leading, and when it hits it punches a hole like you wouldn’t believe. A few particles, traveling at relativistic speed, imparts more destructive force than the biggest kinetic weapon any HE-V can carry. It dumps that energy throughout the entire structure of the target. The impact will cause internal explosions, fry circuitry, and disrupt what survives with a burst of hard radiation. It is a total weapon, Mr. Kasper, and it provides the kind of certainty experienced men like you want in a firefight.”

Blair seized the opening and laid his hand on Kasper’s shoulder. "And no counting shells. We can operate for months on end without resupply. You can shoot all day, Kass. All day and all night."

"Uh huh, until some kanootsen valve or wire or something goes out of joint," Kasper jerked his chin at the particle cannon. "When it does, I could die, or my guys could die. Even if we don’t, how in the hell are we supposed to fix something like this, Blair? Huh? What then?"

Dr. Lawyer was ready for that objection. "It’s easy enough, actually. The component groups are mostly modular, easily switched and serviced. The magnetic lenses, here, are sealed units, you can swap out the whole thing. An hour job after cooldown and degauss with the facilities you have here. The accelerator housing is armored, too. The entire system is ruggedized. It will take more licks than your gun, there." He smiled again, tight lipped. 

“Firing delay?” Kasper asked sullenly.

“Instant. The ion storage rings act like a, er, a battery of sorts. Four seconds to recharge and collimate for the next shot off the Corso’s reactor. Only three seconds if you’re willing to fire before full charge is attained."

Kasper walked up to and then slowly around the particle cannon, studying it. His old autocannon had scars he could read like a book. A tale of many contracts, countless shifts, and a few close calls. Eight filed notches on the edge of the trunnion. This weapon, though, he did not know. 

Blair walked up to stand beside Lawyer and chimed in again. "We've got a real corporate contract lined up, Kass. A good one. But we don’t have but three-hundred odd rounds of fifty mil left. That’s it, total, bubba. We’ll burn that up in two hot engagements. It’ll be a bad look if we have to ask the client for essentials."

Kasper’s reflection stared back at him, indistinct and hazy, from the polished flank of the particle cannon’s fat barrel. "Yeah. And it’ll look bad if this thing has a meltdown three weeks into the contract."

Blair was stoic, his expression set. "It’s the same position we’d be in if your old cannon took a hit, or if the ammo runs dry. It’s all calculated risk, Kass."

Kasper was quiet for a time, staring at the strange weapon, glinting, under the yellow lights of the workshop. Time would tell if the bleeding-edge tech was worth as much as proven, ordnance steel. He knew he wouldn’t be waiting long to find out. 

"Alright, then," he sighed and turned, heading for the squad bay as Blair and Lawyer shook hands, the deal done.

Illustration by Florian Mellies