A Return Customer

[Aver Brand]

One short trip down the Mara corridor, a merc stepped out of her transport. Fairly quiet, Dressel. The streets here were clean enough to eat off – whereas on Nadir, the streets were far more likely to eat you. Pests, insects, starving junkies, savage backwater stragglers… no shortage of hunger, there.

Thanks to the VF and a light layer of sensor-deflector spray on the inside of her coat, she was through customs right quick. (Even though she was packing enough heat to arm a small rebellion.) Her pace picked up as she maneuvered through the morning crowds, caught a speeder, and disappeared downtown.

Nothing much had changed. The shop was still an ugly red brick – but it was a functional red brick, so who the frak cared? Aver Brand was a pragmatic girl, more so than Vrag before her.

She pushed the door open with perhaps too much ease for its excessive weight, looked around, and strode inside. Whether the proprietor was behind the counter or round back in the workshop, she couldn’t tell. He’d show up, and that’s what mattered.

Practiced hands relieved the LeMat of ammunition – she pocketed it into her fancy belt, then placed the gun on the counter.

“Let’s talk upgrades.”

[member="Rusty"]​

 

[Rusty]

Rusty was in fact in. The old storefront was where he spent most of his time these days. RCFC had grown huge, far larger than he had ever plan, and several orders of magnitude larger than he could handle with anything resembling competence. He was still the CEO, the majority shareholder, and by virtue of being the member of the board most likely to shoot someone in the throat the chief decision maker, but by and large he left the running of the company to others. They'd call him if they needed him, which meant he was free to take up whatever merc contracts came along. Or, when there wasn't a contract, putter around in the original storefront.

It was still located in what passed for the bad part of Breehara. Far nicer than most bad parts of town on most planets, but there was a lot of graffiti and plenty of youths in hoodies. The real crime had moved out once the semi-psychotic Shard moved in. The police could never prove anything, other than that some of the weapons in the shop were technically​ capable of leaving the little piles of ash they found from time to time. The matter was never pursued, partly because the Dresselians were a practical lot, but mostly because the police weren't keen on ending up as little piles of ash.

So when the excessively tall, vaguely female, and unambiguously armed figure came in the shop and plunked his very first LeMat prototype on the shelf, it was safe to say that she had his full and undivided attention.

The Shard had figured the new owner of the piece would stop by one day, so he had already compiled a list of things he wanted to add for starters.

"Right. Roller trigger, ghost ring sights, IR laser built into the grips, upgrade to .454 Casull over .45 Long Colt, and for kicks and grins, new internals that should improve reliability."

As he spoke, Rusty's computer called up the cached plans he'd been sketching. First off, the roller trigger. Rather than a curved trigger, the rolled used a straight one. The outside consisted of a free floating cylinder, knurled for texture, that could roll to either side with ease. It was held on by a small lip at the bottom that also would keep one's finger from sliding off. It was a simple change, but one that would do a lot to eliminate the problem of hasty trigger squeeze pulling the barrel to the left or right.

Ghost ring sights were superficially similar to peephole style iron sights used on many rifles, but the differences, while seemingly slight, were significant. The rear sight was larger, more open, and lined with tritium, which would make it easier to see in the day and would glow ever so slightly at night. The front sight was larger, broader, and the tip was also lined with tritium. The glow wouldn't be visible for more than a few feet, and since it would be holstered most of the time, Rusty reckoned the added utility was worth the risk. The idea behind the setup was simple: by enlarging the rear sight's aperture, one could look through it from further away, and the more broad front sight would be easier to acquire. The system was great for shooters that liked to fire quickly, but still needed a degree of precision. It wasn't quite as snappy as a red dot sight, but not nearly as bulky, and batteries weren't an issue either.

The IR laser in the grips wouldn't need batteries either. Small piezoelectric cells would use everything from the motion of the shooter running to the recoil of the weapon to generate the miniscule amounts of power needed to power the small, streamlined laser. When activated, the laser would fire just above the shooter's trigger finger, but on the opposite side of the weapon. The laser would be invisible to the naked eye, but perfectly visible to any sort of night vision or thermal optic, which the Shard more or less assumed the customer used on reflex. It would be sighted in for 20 meters, giving the shooter a practical aimpoint out to about as far as anyone should be shooting in the first place. It was useful out to about 50 meters, but at that point, she'd be lucky to put the bullet in a six inch circle. Great if you wanted to pop someone in center mass, not so great if you wanted to shoot the cigarette out of their mouth.

The .454 Casull upgrade just made sense. From what the Shard had seen, the customer had well above average strength, which was great, because the .454 was not a round with which one should kark lightly. Though the casing was the same diameter as the .45 Long Colt, it was slightly longer, and held a 300 grain bullet instead of a 250 grain one. It also held a crapload more powder. The .45 LC fired a 250 grain bullet at roundabout 260 meters per second. The .454 Casull fired the 300 grain bullet at 500 meters per second. The recoil would be intense on a base human, but he suspected it wouldn't be a problem here, especially since a bullet that size going that fast would make a spiced up wookiee lay down and take a nap. And probably the one behind him too, come to think of it.

The internals upgrade was mostly just technical stuff. Lighter sere, lighter hammer draw, stronger components, mostly just the fruits of having way the hell more resources to work with this go round.

"Anything else you can think of?"

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

If Aver was salivating a bit, nobody could blame her. The blank faceplate saved whatever tattered shreds of dignity she still had – pride was something you couldn’t afford in her line of business. It got you killed faster than any bullet, blaster, or lightsaber could.

This upgraded LeMat came darn close, though.

“queen kicks like a fething krayt dragon,” she said, eyeing the pistol with a mixture of excitement and wariness. CERS made it a functional weapon in her hands – anyone else would be looking at a broken wrist. If they were lucky, that was.

“A muzzle brake would be nice. Maybe a buffer spring too, if you can fit it in this old design – hell, miniaturize inertial dampers and shove them in there. Credits ain’t an issue, you can go to town and come out on the other side for all I care.”

[member="Rusty"]​

 

[Rusty]

"Muzzle brake goes without saying, of course," Rusty said. "I've gotta see what the recoil characteristics turn out to be, but I'll have one milled while we're doing the fitting."

Some gunsmiths were showmen, capable of putting on a performance more shameless than a pornstar and dramatic than a soap opera. Rusty's idea of a dramatic flourish came in the kiloton range. He prefered to let his products do the talking, which was probably for the best. Some of his patent applications ended up with the sort of flair that made for good copy, but Koko mostly wrote those.

Needless to say, the loving care with which he placed a plain wooden case on the counter was not an act. The box was made of some sort of dark wood, stained and polished to a mirror finish. It had simple brass hinges and a simple brass latch, and when Rusty opened it, the inside was lined with padded velvet. Nothing about it screamed ornate, but the loving care with which it was constructed was obvious. Resting in a slot in the center was a small hunk of metal, about four centimeters long, two centimeters wide, and a centimeter tall.

"As far as I know, this is the only thing like it on the market. Miniaturized inertial damper, microprocessor controlled. We'll have to tune it to the weapon and to you. The idea isn't to completely negate the recoil, because most gunslingers rely on it for feedback. Instead, we carefully modulate it so you get the precise amount you need. The brochure can explain it a little better than I can. I just build the things, I don't try to market them."

There was an unmistakable hint of paternal pride in the Shard's mechanical voice, almost like he was talking about a child rather than a product.

If the box and the module were the product of loving care and pride, the brochure was a monument to advertising. The word StabiliGat™ was plastered across the front in a menacing block sans serif font. There were colors. And explosions. There were colorful explosions. Marketing had a field day with this one.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

There was a particular type of satisfaction in talking to someone who knew their business. Especially when the business was a shared love of both parties. [member="Rusty"] knew his shet – he’d known it fifteen years ago when she’d commissioned the LeMat, and he knew it now. It’s what kept her coming back.

Plus, nothing like a hands-on display of personal combat prowess to convince a picky customer. The droid merc had done a fine job of messing up the unmessable Vader fanboy back on Hoth. Aver appreciated the effort. And the gun.

Hng. The gun.

If it weren’t so obnoxiously bulky, she’d have bought in a heartbeat. Alas.

“Sounds like the perfect solution.” And there were no perfect solutions. “What’s the catch?” Aver eyed the piece of tech with a mixture of distrust and wonder. The brochure was an afterthought – why ask the rancher when she had the horse right here?

 

[Rusty]

"Two things," Rusty replied. He flipped a hidden switch on the box, and the velvet bottom floated out on unseen repulsors. Underneath was what looked an awful lot like an induction charging plate and power cell optimized to fit in a holster.

"This is an induction charging plate optimized to fit in a holster," he said helpfully. "The module's power cell has enough charge for about 100 shots. You could probably go further, but I wouldn't push it. Run it too dry and you'll never charge it back up. If you get into a firefight where you have to fire 100 shots from a 9 round pistol, without having the chance to take a breather, you're probably dead anyway. We hook up the charging plate to the holster, along with a low profile power cell rated for about three days of heavy use before it needs a recharge, and all you have to do is holster the weapon and it'll charge all on its own. Takes about thirty seconds for a quick charge, but for the sake of the battery, try to avoid quick charging too much."

Once that short speech was done, he pulled a complicated looking device out from under the counter. It looked like the bastard love child of a datapad and a tentacle monster with a fetish for accelerometers.

"The other catch is that we've got to tune the module. Takes about three hours, you'll fire anywhere from 100-300 rounds out of it. I'll get the muzzle brake dialed in while we're at it. There's a fine line between too much and not enough recoil, and the forces on the gun aren't exactly constant. Trying to dial it in precisely will take some time, but I think you'll be well pleased. Any questions?"

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

By this point, the grin on her face was toothy enough to make a Ralltiir tiger uncomfortable. Her eyes had that serial killer glint to them, too. Probably a good thing she was wearing a helmet. On the other hand, [member="Rusty"]’d probably take it as a compliment.

“I’ll take that catch any day,” Aver said through the smile, cracking her knuckles. “And I’m good for now. Can we tune it today or are you gonna mod it first?”

Usually, the idea of having to make two trips would be… upsetting. But for such a pretty, murderous firearm, the merc was willing to adapt. She’d find something to do on Dressel for sure. Undermine the resident drug dealers, establish a new venue for the business, ruin a local bar… the possibilities were endless.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty had all the Force sensitivity of a box of rocks, but he could read body language. This was a happy customer. No need to ruin that by bringing up the board meeting scheduled for that afternoon.

"Unless you've got a hot date or something, we can go ahead and get started. It'll only take a couple minutes to swap out the parts, and then we can get started on the fun stuff."

Suiting actions to words, the Shard's fingers blurred into action, deftly disassembling the weapon. Despite the frantic pace, there were no flying parts. Everything that came out was set neatly on the counter, a place for everything and everything in its place. The new parts went in just as smoothly, with barely a whisper of oiled metal gliding against oiled metal, or the occasional click of pins and springs slotting into place. Less than two minutes later, the upgrades were complete.

Visually, the only real change was the trigger. The grips had an aperture for the laser, and the cylinder was slightly chunkier, but that was about it. However, were the mercenary to pick up her weapon and test it out, the difference would be astounding. The hammer would draw back as smoothly as two plates of glass with a stick of melted butter trapped between. There would be enough resistance to keep it from being cocked on accident, but no more. The trigger, already light due to the single action design, would be damn near telepathic, so light and crisp on the break that the slightest intentional pressure was enough. On a double action pistol, that would be a serious hazard. On the LeMat, it was a feature.

"Alright, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you do most of your fighting in armor. If that's the case, you don't have to strip down or anything. If you do have to shoot your way out in the buff, you should be fine, unless competitive nude pistol sniping is your thing."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

“Oh, I got a hot date alright,” she chuckled, cracking her knuckles, “with that baby right there.” While Aver wasn’t quite as ammosexual as the droid mercenary, she held a deep appreciation for efficient weaponry of all shapes and sizes.

Her personal collection was a varied array of tools that excelled at delivering sentients from life, usually very quickly and painfully. On any given day, she carried at least one sidearm, two lightsabers, a wrist-blaster, a kukri, and a combat knife. When she knew she was heading into a shetshow, grenades joined the party. They brought their big brothers along, too: anti-tank disruptors. Assault bullpups. Sniper rifles that shot miniature proton rounds.

With a snort, Aver quit her daydreaming. “Been there, not particularly inclined to do it again. Range’s round the back, I take it?”

After such a comprehensive facelift, her fingers were itching to give the new LeMat a spin.

[member="Rusty"]

 

[Rusty]

The Shard took a second to install the datapad on the merc's wrist, then stepped back as the various sensors and accelerometers writhed into place like so many tentacles. It was a deeply unsettling thing to watch, unless one had a thing for animated mechanical octopi and a fisherman's wife, in which case it settled all sorts of things, but the process was mercifully quick. The sensors wouldn't in any way, shape, or form interfere with firing, so long as the customer had a strong and flexible mind.

While that was going on, Rusty plugged the module into a data dock.

"Same place as before. Go on back, fire a few rounds. I should have the muzzle brake and the initial calibration ready when you get back."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

She eyed the module with a healthy measure of distrust – she’d seen enough of Nadir-produced adult entertainment to know where this was going. Or attempted to go, at least, for a few brief moments. The wiring wilted, subdued beneath her withering gaze.

Pistol in hand, Aver stalked through the doors and into the range at the back of the shop. The LeMat felt different in her grip – better. Slightly more heft to it, but it was only appropriate for the punch the weapon was packing.

The fingers of her right hand wrapped surely around her left, anchoring the slugthrower with strength well beyond even that of a wookiee. Taking aim was sometimes almost absurdly easy with all the integrated systems in her armor – shooting well, though… that was a whole ‘nother animal. Still took physical skill and discipline to pull it off.

Grin in place, Aver expelled her breath and began decimating the targets with calm, collected precision.

[member="Rusty"]

 

[Rusty]

As the raw data poured in, Rusty put it to good use. The muzzle brake-essentially a tube of vented metal that would screw into the muzzle of the revolver, was quickly specced out and milled from a solid piece of high strength durasteel. The idea behind it was simple: as the bullet left the barrel, high pressure gasses would erupt forth. The vents would direct some of that gas up, effectively pushing the barrel down. They would also push some of the gas backwards, which would push the gun forwards. This would do a lot to counter the up and back motion associated with recoil. With the module in place, it wasn't strictly necessary, but a muzzle brake was more than the sum of its function. A gun with a good muzzle brake was, in its own way, a means of identifying the shooter to the select group of professionals who used precision firearms as one of their own. A quick glance could tell an experienced eye a great deal of information. To those who spoke the language, the customer would be identified as someone who knew their stuff, and as someone with whom they probably didn't want to kark. Overpowered handguns were a dime a dozen. Folks who could use the things effectively were a great deal more rare. Plus, if the module broke, the muzzle brake would contribute significantly to the merc's ability to control the LeMat's new ridiculous firepower.

The raw data was also fed into the module. Rusty refused to think of it as the silly name Marketing had slapped on it. It was the module, plain and simple. Though it would take a great deal of fine tuning to get the effect just right, as soon as [member="Aver Brand"] finished tearing up the backstop of the firing range, she'd have the rough algorithms programmed in. Very rarely, the rough algorithms got things exactly right, but in Rusty's experience, it was far more common that they either didn't knock off enough recoil or knocked off way too much. If it worked perfectly, they could be done right then and there. If not, tuning would take a few hours. It was important that the customer be 100% satisfied with the module's performance. Anything less would be shameful. So, naturally, as soon as the resounding crashes of gunfire ceased, the Shard rushed back to the range and, without a word, mounted the module on the revolver. It sat on the right side of the barrel, where the ejection rod would sit on a normal LeMat. That way, the balance would be unaffected, and a holster already designed for the weapon would require no further modification.

 

[Aver Brand]

Her arms weren’t exactly complaining – not yet – but they were feeling a bit rattled, on the whole. The continued firing in her future would doubtless exacerbate the issue, but testing was always like this. Real battle, you wouldn’t need more than a round to put down even the worst of fethers. The LeMat wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t light, but it redeemed itself with its sheer destructive firepower. Armors were reduced to wet paper under its gentle touch, flesh to minced meat, and sentient life to cooling corpses.

As [member="Rusty"] rejoined her, Aver happily relinquished the firearm to his skilled hands. Taking the moment to shake out her muscles, the merc leaned back on the wall.

“Ever consider contracting to another company? You make some high-end stuff here – ‘s a shame the client pool’s so narrow.” She waited a beat, making sure she had his attention. “Could help you widen those horizons, you know.”

“Well. Nadir could.”

 

[Rusty]

Rusty snorted as he finished hooking the module up to the LeMat. It sounded like a digital bull getting ready to charge down a matador.

"Don't let the shop fool you. RCFC is freaking huge these days. Hell, I'll make more in a month off of my worst selling line that the whole company did the first year. I mainly hang onto this place so I have somewhere to hide out."

Once it was installed, he booted it up remotely. His datapad, a twin to the one still on the merc's wrist, started ejaculating data at a pace that any mere mortal wouldn't begin to keep up with. Rusty didn't seem to have any trouble following it. Once he was satisfied that it wasn't going to kill all the inertia in local space, down to the atomic level (an unfortunate R&D accident had cost him a hand when it suddenly dropped to absolute zero), he gave it the digital okay to start up. The gun would twitch and shutter for a second, and then it would become oddly still, and then, back to normal. Until it was fired.

"Honestly, if I knew this whole thing was going to blow up like it did, I'd have never bought a second location offplanet. I've half a mind to sell off my shares and go back to working out of this place full time, doing fun stuff instead of trying to figure out what the hell the board is talking about."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

The merc shrugged, wrapping the gun in her secure grip once more.

“Sell them off, then. Life’s too fething short to waste it doing shet you hate.” Much shorter still if you were on the wrong end of that barrel. Aver pointed it at a new target – the previous one had been erased from existence with a few well-placed shots.

No marked difference in weight, and none in handling either. For now, at least.

She took aim and pulled the trigger in a single, smooth motion. The recoil tipped up the gun, all gentle-like, barely travelling past her wrists. Aver worked a scowl with her mouth and fired again, with the same result. The furrow in her brow deepened. She took a third shot just to be sure, then lowered the revolver.

“Way too little,” the woman said, turning halfway towards [member="Rusty"]. “How’s this calibration gonna work with the shotgun barrel?”

 

[Rusty]

Rusty shrugged, his mechanical shoulders whining slightly from the motion.

"Someone comes by with the right offer, I just might. I'm gonna make a fortune off the existing patents in perpetuity, so it's not like I need the income."

While he spoke, the Shard punched some numbers into the datapad. The next shot would have about 15% more recoil, putting it in the same neighborhood as a .38 Special. That was about the sweet spot for most humanoids, he'd found. Enough to be noticeable under duress, but not so much that they couldn't bury it for rapid, accurate fire.

"Once we get done with the pistol barrel, we'll calibrate the shotgun separately. When you drop the striker, the module will be able to detect it, and adjust accordingly."

In fact, that had been one of the reasons for swapping out parts. The new hammer was designed specifically to work in conjunction with the StabiliGat™.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

“Mm. Sweet. Efficient.”

Aver grinned and reloaded the LeMat as [member="Rusty"] calibrated the module. The trigger was a real pleasure to shoot – came about as fast as a well-paid whore on Zeltron, and just about as loud. The whole pistol worked smoother now, quick and responsive in her hand.

“I have something you’d get a kick outta, actually,” the merc mused out loud as she took aim, demolishing another target. Even more precise now, with just enough feedback to judge when the revolver had settled to fire again.

“The pistol’s good to go.” Aver fished a slug out of her utility belt and fed it into the shotgun barrel, flipping the lever back into place to secure the top-break mechanism.

As she waited for the droid to adjust the module’s settings for the lower barrel, the merc scrolled through the data on her HUD. There was this one blueprinthttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Unidentified_planet_(Yoda she’d won off a guy in backroom sabacc a couple years ago… where was it… ah.

“Here,” she announced with a triumphant grin, transferring the file to a small data chip before offering it to Rusty. “Now tell me if that ain’t worth a couple shares.”

 

[Rusty]

Rusty's jaw didn't actually hit the floor, nor did his eyes actually pop out of their sockets. He had neither, so that would have been impossible. But if a droid could do either of those things, he probably would have.

"Marry me," he said dreamily. "Actually, don't. That's a terrible idea. But yeah, I'd say this would do it."

Koko had been pressuring him more and more over the last year to either pay more attention to his company, or sell his shares to someone who would. He had offered the top spot to her, but his Shard assistant had made it clear that she had no interest in sitting on the throne. She was much happier being the power behind it. That said, the less he paid attention to his company, the harder her job became, and she was getting fed up.

"We'll sit down at some point and work out the particulars, but for now, let's start on the shotgun barrel. Load up and tell me what you think. Right now, the module's set to the pistol barrel's kick, so that'll give us a good baseline."

Not even plans to one of the more magnificent engines of destruction the galaxy had ever seen could distract him for long.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

His starstruck reaction elicited a snort from the merc. “That is a terrible idea. I’m already married.” The woman chuckled at the private joke, enjoying the warmth spilling along the Ternion as she spoke. Married, alright.

Most times when she’d shot the LeMat’s lower barrel, Aver had done it from the hip. Partially because it helped with the brutal recoil – and partially because she utilized it close-quarters, drawing quick on a bastard who didn’t expect it.

This time, she had both her hands securely wrapped around the revolver as she squeezed the trigger. Wrists locked, CERS engaged – dragged a low grunt from the woman, but not much more.

“She’s still got it,” she chuckled, moving to load another round into the barrel as [member="Rusty"] made the necessary adjustments.

 

[Rusty]

As the numbers came in, Rusty made the necessary adjustments. He had a good feel for the merc's comfort level by now, and that helped him dial in the module much quicker than normal. It was always nice working with professionals. If she had been the average street thug, they'd be here all afternoon.

"Can't say I've ever been married," he replied absently. "Spent about a decade dealing with an alcoholic gambler who couldn't read a room to save her life, so I had to do it for her. I'm told that's a close approximation."

The Shard hadn't heard from the Captain in what, five, six years now? It had been so long, he barely even remembered her most days. He would always be grateful to her for dragging him out of the shadows and giving him a life that didn't resemble one long, continuous suicide attempt, but after about the hundredth time he had to shoot their way out of a bar after she got them in over their heads, he considered that debt paid in full. With interest.

"Don't really see the appeal, to be honest."

Adjustments made, he gestured for [member="Aver Brand"] to take her next shot.