(Catspaw Armory, Shvehona City, Dimiya)
The door chime rang, signaling a new customer in the shop.
“Welcome to Catspaw Armory. How can we help you?”
Arv k’Tea, known to her friends as Kiki, didn’t bother looking up from her work bench. Recky, her part-timer, could handle it. She still had work to do.
What had started as a simple store selling custom made firearms had quickly expanded beyond her wildest dreams. Part of that was due to the fact that she made damn good weapons, and anyone who wanted quality ballistic weapons wanted one of her guns. Another part of that was the fact that several prominent members of Black Star openly carried her guns, and, because of that, her custom makes had become something of a status symbol.
That had required her to find larger facilities than the simple shop with a small front room with display cases and the larger back room with her work bench and machine tools. Now, she had actual manufacturing lines! Oh, she still made her custom guns. That was her pride and joy, after all. But most of her business now came from mass production.
So, now, thanks to some very attractive business loans from Black Star’s financial division, she was the owner of a city block that included a factory, warehouse, and her main shop. The shop part was the most familiar part of the whole setup, though she had expanded to having three extra gunsmiths now, as well as an office manager and a couple part-time employees to run the register. Which was good, because with the additional responsibilities from the expanded business, there was no way that she would have been able to keep designing custom firearm. Thankfully, she still got to get her hands on the metal, making custom firearms on commission, and had leveled up her engraving skills, as well.
The warehouse was pretty simple, mostly just parts and materials for the factory and the shop. This was good because they could have a stockpile of parts, whether they made them themselves or ordered out, that could be kept ready for projects as they came along. She was a gunsmith, not a logistics manager, so she was glad to hand those responsibilities off to some of her employees who knew what they were doing.
The factory, on the other hand, had several production lines going at once. Of the five lines, three of them were devoted to a style of weapon that ought to be impossible in the real world, but had been realized in this game world. These were designs inspired by an old game in real world, one conducted with physical miniatures on a tabletop, translated into the game world by her prototyping, and eventually refined to the point that they could be mass produced and sold.
The ‘Commissar’ line was a semi-automatic pistol, wholly mechanical, that fired explosive rounds. The size of the rounds, and the resultant kick when they were fired, meant that only the strongest people, or those with modifications, could fire more than one or two shots in quick succession with anything approaching accuracy. However, when you’re firing miniature shaped charges with each pull of the trigger, rate of fire can be secondary to placement of fire.
The ‘Sororitas’ line was a carbine submachine gun. It fired heavier rounds than the Commissar, meaning that an unmodified human would need to use both hands, or be wearing power armor, to use it effectively. On the other hand, it could be used in semi- or full-auto, which was very good for putting down any threats you came across.
The ‘Astartes’ line was a battle rifle, capable of larger ranges and faster firing times than the Sororitas. However, a normal human would have as much luck trying to fire this beast of a weapon on the move as they would a .50 caliber machine gun in the real world. It was designed for those in power armor, or augmentations, or both.
The last two lines were for modifications to the first three lines. Enhanced optics, extended or drum magazines, underbarrel weaponry, and those kinds of things. She only supplied basic addons. Enhanced targeting scopes for the rifles, and underbarrel grenade launchers for the Sororitas and Astartes were big sellers. There were some other requests, which she contracted out to Black Star for. Let them figure out how to make a ‘melta’ or flamethrower to attach to a perfectly good gun.
The Black Star Marines were her largest customers, but far from the only ones. Any Nomad that could get to the Confederacy seemed to show up on her doorstep, wanting a gun. Most of them were all too happy to pay extra for custom grips, personalized engraving, and all the other things that enhance the artistry of a weapon beyond its basic form, which made her even more money.
She shook her head, clearing away the cobwebs. She didn’t hear any yelling, or other untoward noises from the door, so she trusted in Recky to take care of things. No one made the mistake of messing with that man twice, something he and Mollen had in common. And if someone tried to cause any real trouble, well, she would hear the gunshots.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
She took a breath, and returned to focus on her work. She was almost done with this custom piece. Well, a modification on one of her production items, actually. When she was finished, this was going to be one of her best pieces yet.
It started with an Astartes rifle. First, she tightened all the tolerances, making everything fit tighter, which would increase the accuracy and recoil compensation of the rifle. This wasn’t done on production rifles because the increased tolerances demanded higher levels of maintenance, more often, which was more than most people wanted to deal with.
Next, she increased the length of the barrel. This would increase accuracy at longer ranges, though it would make the rifle unwieldy in close quarters. That would be an issue for some, but for this rifle, which was going to be a long-range weapon.
She added an integral suppressor on the barrel, to muffle the sound of the rifle’s firing. Calling it a ‘silencer’ was a misnomer. There was nothing ‘silent’ about a big gun being fired. The ‘silencer’ just turned it from something you needed hearing protection for to something that you wouldn’t hear two blocks away. The big benefit was that it also worked to decrease the muzzle flash, which would make it harder for observers to find the source of the shot.
Then, she broke down, and added some sophisticated electronics. The ‘smart optics’ scope would connect with a user’s commlink and sensor software to provide a variety of useful information, to further increase accuracy on extreme range shots. That was par for the course, in high-end rifles. What made the electronics on this weapon a head above the rest was the active noise cancellation. Pulling the trigger activated a noise generator, which sounded counterproductive, until you realized that the sound was at an inverse frequency and strength to the sound of the gunshot, effectively cancelling out the audible sound. You would still feel the shot if you were anywhere close, but it made finding a shooter extremely difficult.
The next step was custom ergonomics. That meant more than just a buzzword. It meant shaping the stock so that it was just the right curve for comfort and support, at just the right length to reduce any motion while aiming. It meant adjusting the trigger pull strength so that it took just the right amount of pressure (not too light, not too strong) to fire. It meant every one of a hundred little tweaks to make the rifle the most stable, accurate weapon possible, at least for its intended user.
That wasn’t to say that it would only work for the user. That kind of functionality involved loading the gun up with biometric sensors, or chips, or other such things. All of which left trails back to the user, if they ever had to hide the gun somewhere in a hurry. That would be a crying shame, but needs must and all that.
No, it was just the simple fact that anyone other than the intended user would find the rifle just that little bit wrong. Whenever they got behind the scope, the stock, the trigger, the scope itself, all would be set to one person’s preferences, forcing any other user to adapt, as though they were firing a wholly unfamiliar gun. And unfamiliar guns were tough to manage in long-range settings, until you’d put enough rounds down-range to really get a feel for it.
It was the same as the pilots who flew racing shuttles. Sure, throw them into an unfamiliar craft and expect them to fly a race, and they’ll make a decent show of it. But they won’t be on their best game, even if the shuttle is the same make and model as the one they normally fly. Because it isn’t ‘their’ shuttle, the one they know every whirr and whine on, or how the gravitics lean just that little bit to starboard when going at high speeds, or… well, more things than she cared to think of.
By the same token, you take that racing pilot, and you put them behind the controls of their personal craft, the one they fly hundreds, maybe thousands of hours a year, and spend as much time or more keeping it ‘just so’? Well, they can make a shuttle do things you simply would not believe. Things that, in a sane universe, would seem to be impossible.
Hell, a race pilot wasn’t even the strangest example. Back on real-life Earth (old Terra, in the game), there were people who could lift a coin off the ground and put it on top of a bottle, with a forklift! And those crazy Russians, they did ballet, with TANKS! The things a person could do when they knew every facet of their tools was breathtaking.
But that was all the technical aspects. The things that made the gun a functional masterwork. Now, she was working on the engraving, and adding the artistic embellishments that would turn a functional, finely made weapon into a work of art.
She had just finished when she heard the footsteps behind her. Deliberately loud, though still softer than a human’s ears would discern over the noise of the shop. But her Felisan hearing was far more sensitive than a mere human’s.
She turned, seeing her ‘part-timer’ standing there. She could tell from the look on his face what was going to happen next. They’d never had any secrets between them, save for those that they had to have, because of professional obligations. She knew what he was about to say.
“So, putting in for some vacation time, Recky?”
The human chuckled. “Afraid so, Kitty. Seems it is time for me go back to my ‘real’ job. Don’t know how long I’ll be out, but it shouldn’t be quite as ‘explosive’ as my first big gig. Well, not initially. Never know how these things fall out afterwards, you know?”
Kiki smirked, her whiskers waggling. “Yes, I would be surprised if anything could top the explosiveness of your first job. Well, anything that a single person could pull off. Mollen apparently decided to blow up a planet recently, so he’s definitely got you beat on explosiveness. And then there’s that corporate war, and all the shit he’s been up to. So, you aren’t the worst Nomad at stirring things up.”
He laughed at that, just like she’d intended. “Thanks, Kitty. And yeah, I guess I have a ways to go if I’m going to equal him. But, at any rate, I wanted you to know that I was going to be gone for a while.”
Kiki smiled widely. “Well, in that case, it is a good thing I just finished my latest project. I was going to wait until next week, RL, but I figure, what with you going off and getting into trouble, you might find some use for it.”
She turned, and lifted the gun, all the while thanking her game-world strength to allow her to easily carry something that would weigh thirteen to fourteen kilograms, at least. Not the heaviest thing in the world, but not something you just picked up easily.
Turning back to face the man, she smiled, and said, “So, happy birthday, and all that.”
The man nodded slowly as he took the gun. He definitely did not have a tear in his eye as he looked over the craftsmanship of the rifle. That was just dust, honestly. As he looked over the shroud on the barrel, he couldn’t keep from smiling, seeing the words engraved there.
REQUIESCE IN PACE