Chương 111: Chapter 110 – Hey, Alexa

"Moment of truth, young buck," said Jefferson.

"Do you want to take your new eldritch rifle, or do you want to stick with your tried and true?" Cole considered, looking over the loadouts packed for his team's mission to Hexighast. The patient hunter rifle from the Silk Forest on Curahee had done him well. But the threats they were beginning to face would quickly outstrip the weapon—a weapon which couldn't be further improved by his arquebus engineer subclass. The squid rifle had continued defying Termlink's efforts to determine and classify its affixes.

But every time he'd taken it to the practice range, it had shot flawlessly. Better than flawlessly, in fact. The gun itself made subtle adjustments to his unconscious demands—more stability when he needed it, switching his sight picture from a wide field to a high magnification to a long eye relief as his shooting situation demanded it. And that was just in the artificial Lewis Field of the armory firing range. The smart thing to do would probably be melting it down for parts immediately.

The last attachment Cole had ever wanted for a rifle was one that gave it a mind of its own. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I'll take the eldritch rifle. But I'm also going to take the snakebite rifle in case that doesn't work out," said Cole.

"You got it," said Jeff, disappearing for a moment and returning with both weapons. Cole secured the snakebite bolt action to the side of his pack, opposite his sheathed sword. The feather armlets hung from a carabiner on the back and his prismatic cloak was rolled up and buckled to the top. After getting his pack squared away, he helped Jefferson shift it over to the pallet next to the rest of his teammates' packs.

The squid rifle he looped over his shoulder where the tentacles had merged to form a sling, even when unpowered. The material felt odd against his neck, like a rubber snake. Cole checked his watch.

"The others should be here for gear issue in a minute," said Cole. Jefferson waved him off.

"I'll get 'em squared away. You want to go ahead, yeah?"

"Thanks Jeff," said Cole. He let himself out of the armory and walked down to the portal complex, where much of the non-DOR equipment was already staged, including the two SWCC boats and the crew of Navy personnel attached to them. Their leader spotted Cole.

"Chief Dabir," said Cole, extending his hand. The chief petty officer took it and did a double-take at Cole's rifle.

"You pull that thing out of the Chesapeake?"

"Tennessee River, actually," said Cole.

"Some good fishing out near Knoxville." Chief Dabir shook his head.

"I'll take your word for it. We're prepped on our end," he said. The two boats were loaded onto trailers ready to be pulled through the portal. Down below in the pit, a mote of light occasionally sparked—a bridge kept up to maintain comms check-ins with the base camp on Hexighast during the operation. In the control room on the second level, Cole could see the radio operators with earcups pressed to their head as they received and passed along information.

"This your first otherworld excursion?" asked Cole.

"Mine? No. I been on one before. Some of my boys are green, though. But they can handle it." Cole looked at the Navy personnel with their unfamiliar rank insignia. All the petty officers with their bird insignias that made him double-take thinking he was looking at a bird colonel, and the leader of their crew, a lieutenant, which was the same rank as a captain in the Army, while a Navy captain was the same as an Army colonel, which looked like… well, it was always a confusing mess.

Why did the Navy have to be so fucking extra about everything?

"Really, we're just a taxi service. We've got the 7. 62 ready to rip-roar with those fancy rounds your folks have, but from what I hear, it might as well be a pop-gun. We'll be relying on you folks to cover us."

"Don't be too sure," said Cole.

"One of my riflemen took out an otherworld monster with an M240 and an Oshkosh tire. He wasn't attuned, either. Bullets are bullets. Nothing can take too many of 'em." This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Cole waited with the auxiliary personnel for another half hour or so before the bay doors slid open and Jefferson drove the forklift in with the pallet of otherworld gear.

The rest of his team filed in behind him, as well as Ken and Han, who would be staying with the boats to provide cover on their way back to the DOR basecamp. Another handful of attuned security personnel—Kicker washouts, but still capable of site security and support—filed in as well. And one other person arrived in her full kit: Alexa, the Kicker from Moriarty's team with the automaton familiar. She came down to him.

"Appreciate the invite, Airborne."

"Don't mention it," said Cole. He hesitated for a moment.

"Moriarty going to give you grief over it?"

"I was radioactive the moment I volunteered," she said, looking away.

"I go on another mission with him, he'll sweet talk me back in. That's when the real shit starts. Not keen on giving him the chance. If you drop me, I'll float like those two." She nodded to Ken and Han. Howie walked past, carrying a hard-case in addition to his PDW. Within waited a laptop with a more full-featured version of the Termlink AI than their portable analyzers. In theory, it should be able to analyze and interface with computers on Hexighast.

Cole nodded to him as he pushed the case over the side of the first boat and climbed up over the gunwale to strap it down. Cole whistled and brought everyone around.

"Alright. We've drilled. Now it's time for the real deal. You were all there for the brief, so I'll make this short. When we're on the boats, the LT's word is law. Once we're on the beach, we're on our own. We've got potential friendly locals, so don't go blasting anything that moves unless it's made of metal." Cole looked over at the SWCC lieutenant.

"LT, you got anything to add?" The Navy officer shook his head and checked the straps on his own plate carrier.

"Chief, get 'em squared away,""Aye, sir," said Chief Dabir. He started barking orders to his boat crews, who all looked amped up. Hopefully they'd keep that enthusiasm. The warning klaxon sounded, and a voice from the control room called out." Lewis Field coming online in ten seconds." Cole waited as the potential energy in the air grew. He hadn't expected nerves from Oak Ridge to follow him, but his hairs started to raise.

He glanced around, wary, as though more demons from the March's Boiling Sea were about to start tearing their way out of holes in space and time. He flinched when Howie's hand hit his shoulder.

"Yeah, I can't shake it either," said Howie. He squeezed the top of Cole's arm. Cole's heightened acuity let him see the sweat beading from pores in Howie's face and throat, and the nervous bob of his Adams apple. He scoffed to himself.

"Look at us, eh? One bad lab experiment and we just fall apart."

"Sad, I know," said Howie, grinning. The Marine took a deep breath and slapped his own face a couple times, causing Roxy to shoot him a look that landed somewhere between confused and disgusted. Nutmeg found her way over to Howie's side and grew just enough for him to pat her on the side of her harness.

"Aww, thanks best girl," he said, grinning. In the back of his mind, Cole felt the sensation of something waking and his gun flexed on its sling, as though stretching out of its sleep. The soft metallic form grew more rigid and started to steam at the joints. The tentacle sling tightened and then relaxed. Roxy eyed the weapon.

"That thing is weird," she said.

"Roxy. Your shotgun bleeds," Cole reminded her. Roxy held a finger out towards Cole's receiver, where a small tendril lashed out and batted her gloved finger away. Cole felt the sling contract slightly.

"Yeah, but it doesn't do that shit," she said.

"I feel like that thing should be swimming around in an aquarium."

"You said it digests and reconfigures your ammo," said Howie.

"Could you just, like, feed it lead slugs, steel cores, powder, and brass ingots and have it do the assembly?"

"Maybe," said Cole.

"But you eat cake. How much would you like to be fed flour, eggs, sugar, and butter, instead?" he patted the side of the gun.

"Manufactured rounds makes sure everything is in the proper place and portion." Howie grinned.

"Everything a growing rifle needs." Besson pursed his lips down at the gun but didn't say anything. Cole flicked his eyes to Nona, who was keeping a healthy distance from both them and the SWCC boat crewmen. Cole keyed his radio.

"Control, we're ready down here."" Roger, Airborne. Establishing transit portal in thirty seconds. Crews to alert-ready." In the corners of the room, the Ma Deuce teams primed their heavy machine guns and tilted them down toward the portal pit. A mote started to flicker at the base of the depression in the ground, blinking and glowing the same color as the greenish-grey water of Hexighast's oceans. Arcs of electricity flared from a growing disc, sparking off the concrete of the pit. The disc expanded.

"Make ready!" Cole shouted. He pulled his drum magazine and held it out to his gun. The feelers reached out and wrapped it. And though it gnawed a bit at the polymer, it didn't devour the whole thing in one go like it had with the aluminum magazine. Instead, he heard a rhythmic click-slurp as it sucked the rounds from the magazine one-by-one. Ken came down the ramp and raised his eyebrow at the rifle. Cole shrugged back at him.

The portal widened and stabilized, forming a shimmering surface with the impression of large, distant buildings." Portal stabilized. Good hunting, Kickers."

"Thanks, Control," said Cole. He raised his hand, fingers forward.

"Besson, take point. The rest of you, on me. Let's go crash a computer."