Alternative, less serious title: I Need a Weapon!
Previous Chapter
Part Two: Equipment
Late the next morning, Kenji and I received text messages with instructions on where to meet the Good Doctor. Well, the Good Scientist with a Doctorate. Fortunately it was a Saturday, so I was able to leave work shortly after receiving the text. I picked up Kenji on the way, and we ended up parking in a garage a few blocks from the meeting place.
The address he had texted us turned out to be a small rental laboratory. The kind companies rent for a few months to test something with a high test animal mortality rate, so they can say they weren’t doing the tests when the paper trail fails to lead to their own research labs. It was a simple, gray, concrete building with two stories and very few windows. The second floor lab was our destination, and after a quick climb up some gray concrete stairs in a gray stairwell, we found ourselves standing in a narrow hall in front of a white metal door in a white plastered hallway.
“You sure about this?” I asked Kenji.
Kenji shrugged, “after that shit with the freighter, I think we can trust Claudia on this. And I got my Nambu if shit gets real.”
Oddly comforted by Kenji’s paranoia, I wrapped lightly on the door three times and waited. It opened a few moments later and we were greeted by a short man with cropped light brown hair wearing large, round, silver framed glasses. He wore a simple black suit and looked like he had drunk one too many energy drinks.
“Hello, you would be Mr.’s Nakai and Setou, right?” he asked, his voice quick and chirpy.
I nodded, “yes, I’m Mr. Nakai, and the one in the scarf is Mr. Setou.”
He stuck out his hand and we started exchanging handshakes, “Doctor Fargo, but call me Fargo, everybody does. Wait, that would be formal for you two. Call me Douglas.”
He was a fast talker, that much was obvious. He gestured for us to step in and we did, telling him he could call us Kenji and Hisao as he closed the door behind us. The rental lab he was using was almost completely empty. A counter on the left wall had a coffee pot with several white mugs and half a pot of coffee already made. The blue shelves and cabinets seemed neglected, but the large lab bench near the right hall was covered in pieces and bits of some sort of metallic device. Near the bench were several wooden crates, all of which were open. A small laptop was shut and perched near the edge of the bench’s left side, towards us. Douglas strolled over to the laptop and wheeled around on his heels to face us.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Douglas said, “since we’re short on time. Oh, would you like some coffee?”
I nodded, and after I had a cup of not terrible, though not terribly exciting, coffee, in my hands Douglas waved us over to the bench, where he plugged the laptop into a cord and opened it. Kenji and I watched as he started up some data and video files. As he motioned for us to surround the screen with him, he turned to face us, his face oddly firm.
“What I’m about to show and tell you is all classified by the United States Department of Defense. The only reason you are allowed to see it is because three Warehouse Agents and a former employee of the Department of Defense personally vouched for you. Also, I really need someone to test this equipment before my next performance review,” his face lit up in a brief smile before resuming a more serious look, “and I’m really looking forward to your book series, but that isn’t really pertinent.”
By the time we were done being informed about how much shit we were in, I was pawing at my sternum and trying very hard to keep my blood pressure down –probably should’ve skipped the coffee. Kenji, as usual, seemed eager for the chance to once again defy death in new and bullet-filled ways. It took both Kenji and I to break the language issue, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, and it gave me a chance to collect myself.
“So, you’re telling me,” I said when Douglas had finished, trying very hard to keep my voice steady, “that the
Alien and
Predator movies are based on real alien species?”
It might seem odd that I was willing to believe him so quickly, but he had a lot of irrefutable evidence. Besides, I had once fought a werewolf with my wife’s best friend’s sister, so I wasn’t really in a position to question the man.
Douglas nodded, smiling lightly, “yup, although obviously the movies are based on highly inaccurate accounts and memories from the real incidents, when they take place in contemporary times. Mr. Weyland, for example, did die in the Antarctic, but he died manually detonating an explosion that killed the xeno Matriarch. Any more questions?”
Kenji raised his hand, “how the fuck do we kill this motherfucker?”
Douglas shut the laptop and handed it to Kenji, who nearly dropped it, and clapped his hands excitedly, “easy- with new prototype power armor and weapons!”
“What.”
“Don’t worry,” Douglas waved a hand and smirked in what I guess he presumed was a reassuring manner, “all of the equipment has been thoroughly lab tested. All we need now is a good field test, and we’ll be able to prove this equipment works! And you get rid of the Predator before it kills again! It’s win-win!”
“No, it’s not,” I snapped, jabbing a finger at the laptop, “I am not facing an alien hunter with advanced weaponry in a prototype tin can suit.”
“C’mon man,” Kenji said, glancing at me over his thick glasses, “do you really want Mr. Hakamichi’s death on your conscience? Especially after Shizune already lost her mother?”
Shizune’s mother died of cancer when she was twelve, “Mr. Hakamichi can take care of himself.”
Kenji raised an eyebrow, “the same way he took care of being captured?”
I sighed and palmed my forehead, stalling for time. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of options. At least two US Special Forces squads had been wiped out by these things in the past, so I doubted the JSDF could handle it, even if we could somehow convince them to help. Douglas seemed pretty confident in his toys, and, having dealt with power armor in the past, I could see where that confidence came from; whenever I had faced power armor, I had either had help or gotten extremely lucky -or both. Hell, I still nearly died once fighting the damn things.
There was also the minor problem of having agreed to help Mr. Hakamichi. Remembering that caused me to shiver slightly; I wasn’t sure what frightened me more at that point, the alien or a pissed off Shizune if we didn’t keep our promise.
“So,” I heard Douglas pipe up, dragging me back to reality, “we can keep going?”
I gave a groan and nodded, slowly lifting my head so I could look at him properly, “I don’t suppose there’s a chance Kenji can wear the armor?”
Douglas shook his head, “the optical sensors on the helmet can compensate for poor eyesight, but not the extant required for Mr., uh, Kenji. And in case you're wondering why I didn't bring someone, no one was willing to go, and this trip is barely legal as it is, so I was kinda limited in who I could ask.”
I sighed and shrugged, “alright, so what do we do?”
Douglas clapped his hands together and hopped in place once, “you’re gonna need to put the armor on now, so you can learn how to fight in it. So let’s get to it!”
Douglas indicated the array of pieces on the bench. Now that I was finally focusing on them, I could see how they laid out to form a suit of armor, though the power armor Douglas had in mind wasn’t what I expected. Instead of bright, ceramic power armor like I was used to, this armor was dark gray metal, and resembled the armor worn in the
Fallout video game series. It was somewhat bulky, but was also more streamlined than what I was used to. I took off my shoes and pants, and the three of us started getting me into the armor to try it out.
After having faced soldiers wearing power armor, actually wearing it was an interesting experience. Though not as bulky as the Crusader Power Armor I was used to dealing with, the armor was still pretty heavy, and putting it on conjured to mind feudal samurai donning their armor in preparation for battle or training. They didn’t have to deal with a bunch of wireless monitoring programs and power systems, though all things considered, they had probably dealt with the alien Hunters once or twice, at least.
“So, what exactly powers this thing, anyway?” I asked as I practiced walking in the boots and leggings.
The servo and power systems were isolated for the legs and torso, arms, and the helmet. The upside to that was- theoretically- if a portion was damaged or incapacitated, it could be removed without rendering the suit entirely useless. The downside was an increased risk of overheating the power systems. The laptop was wirelessly connected to the armor’s systems, so Kenji could monitor it while I played The Most Dangerous Game.
“Good job on the movement there,” Douglas observed as I slowly adapted to the lumbering steps the armor required. Kenji, meanwhile, was leaning against the counter by the coffee pot and out of danger should I trip, “oh, and it uses a set of biochemical crystals.”
“Really? So they fixed the issues with the random overheating and exploding?” I may have been a high school science teacher, but I still liked to keep abreast of the latest scientific discoveries.
As I looked up at Douglas, the grimace he gave in response was not comforting, “In theory, yes. Like I said, we haven’t had a lot of chances to seriously test this stuff out yet, so…”
I rolled my eyes, “you have got to be kidding me.”
“It’ll be fine man,” Kenji piped in, “remember, I can switch you from the crystals to the backup batteries in no time.”
“Yeah, except those only store a few minute’s of power.”
“Beats getting disemboweled by an alien,” Douglas quipped, with a slightly dopey looking grimace.
I sighed and shrugged, “fair enough.”
The rest of the armor was a bit easier to put on and try out. I even managed to drink coffee while wearing it. The waste storage and heat sinks were helpful in that regard.
“Okay, helmet time,” Douglas said, handing me the large rounded helmet with the built-in gas mask and eye sensors. I sighed lightly at the thought of being entirely encapsulated in metal, then put the helmet on.
“Its pitch black,” I said, my voice dulled by the metal.
“It’s all voice activated, just say ‘power on.’ In English, though.”
I did, and immediately I was blinded by green light. The light quickly faded, and I was able to see everything as I could with my normal eyes, except… sharper.
“The normal eye sensors function at essentially high definition levels,” Douglas explained, “so that might take a second to adjust to. Also, you need to have the Heads Up Display on, so just say ‘HUD On.’”
I did, and the corners of my vision were filled with small images of my armor in green, a list of my vision modes- also green, with the abbreviation NORM highlighted- and something that looked disturbingly familiar.
“This has a heart monitor,” I stated, my voice coming across slightly robotosized.
“Yes. The HUD has a system for monitoring the heat, power, and damage levels of the armor, the effectiveness of the different vision modes- normal, thermal, night, and UV- and for you, I was able to install a heart monitoring system- I put it on during the plane ride. It makes sure the stress of combat and operating the suit don’t over-exert your heart, and it can administer mild dosages of emergency medications to prevent a heart attack. I don’t recommend you go that far, though. Not only will they cause a nasty crash later, they might interact with your current meds and cause slower reflexes or muscle spasms –which includes possible cardiac arrest.”
“Great,” sometimes the cure is worse then the disease, “Still, thanks for the thought. How did you know I have a heart condition?”
Douglas shrugged, “Claudia told me. Oh, and the armor should cushion your chest and back from any possible concussions. Anyway, try out the vision modes, because you might need all of them tonight. The Predator’s armor includes thermal and ultra-violet vision, but we don’t know if the hunter himself can be seen with either vision modes.”
After a thorough test of the helmet’s functions, Douglas clasped his hands together excitedly and started hefting things from several of the crates onto the bench. We had apparently moved on to the weapons. Douglas seemed to have trouble hefting the weapons and ammo from the crates, which didn’t surprise me, considering they were designed for someone wearing power armor, and even then, he wasn’t a very well toned individual. He actually failed to lift one of them, heaving at it futilely before grunting and looking hopefully at me.
“Uh, could you help me with this last one?” he asked.
“Yeah, I need the practice anyway,” I said, lumbering over to the crate. Inside was a minigun, a relatively unremarkable one, really. It had six barrels and the standard rotary system, and was rather bulky. I managed to heave the thing up somewhat easily, using both the handle partway along the barrels, and the main handle that was bolted around where the user’s right arm would be. The trigger itself was just behind the motor, power system, and ammunition pack, with a resting bar for my arm attached to the motor.
“Whadda you think?” Douglas asked, “it fires 5 mm rounds, and we’re equipping you with seven hundred and fifty armor piercing rounds. The rounds are in 250 round packs, with two that can be strapped onto your armor belt, and one already slapped in. I can show you how to use it, but you can’t practice with it here. Sorry about that.”
I smiled at his grimace, even though he couldn’t see it, “No problem, I’d rather not shoot it until I have to, anyway. Is this all you’re giving me?”
Douglas chuckled, “no way. Predators have an extensive arsenal, so you’re going to need more than just one weapon,” Douglas snapped his fingers, “I almost forgot, your armor will protect you from most of the alien weaponry, except the plasma caster. That thing will cut through it pretty easily. You can use the thermal vision to check for it, or you can just look for the red light. Anyway, moving on.”
While I digested the possibility of being cooked inside the armor by plasma –a rather intriguing death for a chemist- Douglas went to the bench and held out what looked like a heavily modified M-16. I put down the minigun and examined the weapon more carefully.
“You can probably tell that it’s an M-16, but it’s been pretty seriously modified. You can fire it one handed if required, and it fires 5.56 mm armor piercing rounds. You have ninety rounds for it in thirty round magazines, with two packs on the belt and one already in. You can fire it full auto or semi auto. Don’t forget: short controlled bursts.”
“Right,” I said, aiming down the sights for practice’s sake. It was weird holding the weapon while wearing the armor. I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem later on.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Yes,” Douglas said, now holding two very large, shining gray pistols that almost resembled bolt pistols. He handed one to me, and then gave the other to Kenji. While the belt of my armor had a holster, it took Douglas a second to realize Kenji needed one, which he started searching for in the arrayed crates.
“Those pistols fire .50 caliber armor piercing rounds. You have eight shots in a clip, and three clips total. Two on the belt, and well, you get the idea. That goes for both of you.”
“Why is it that the smaller the weapon gets, the less ammo I get?” I asked.
“Because,” Douglas said as he handed Kenji a holster and some ammo, “the smaller the weapon gets, the more important your need to aim.”
“Sweet,” Kenji said as he practiced aiming the pistol, “one lone gunman could be all that stands between a homicidal maniac, and his alien hunter.”
“More or less my thoughts,” Douglas said, “I figured you’d want to be near Mr. Hakamichi in case Hisao, er, fails to stop it.”
“Yeah, Mr. Hakamichi will love that,” never mind how we’d convince him to hide in a storage room of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town- Kenji had come up with that plan on the plane ride.
“Do I get a knife or something?” I asked Douglas.
“Better,” Douglas was holding some sort of sword in a large, bulky, black sheath. I took the weapon and tied it to my belt, then pulled it out, revealing a long, bulky sword-like device. The handle had a small switch and a large grip with a lever attached. Instead of an actual blade or edge, though, the sword had a boxy covering and a series of sharp, shining chainsaw teeth. Bulky and painted almost entirely in black, the exception being the large double headed aquila of the Imperial Guard prominently painted in silver on each side of the blade.
I leered at Douglas from behind my mask, “a chainsword, really?”
Douglas shrugged, “why not; the Predator has a flying death Frisbee.”
I returned the shrug, “touché.”
“The sword has three settings; off, slow, and fast. It uses the same kind of power source as the power armor, so don’t worry about it running out, unless you fight the thing for more then four hours. If the Hunter pulls out his wristblades, you definitely want to use this to defend yourself –I’m not entirely sure if the armor is tough enough to stop those.”
“I’ll remember that,” I sheathed the sword and took off my helmet, “and thanks for all the help. Telling us all this and getting us all this equipment must’ve been a pain in the ass.”
Douglas smiled and waved his right hand casually, “yeah, but it was worth it to help Claudia. Besides, the data recorded on that laptop will be extremely valuable for research.”
“Do you want any of the alien technology?” I asked; it was a valid question.
Douglas shook his head, “any time anyone has captured their tech, the results have been… well, bloody. Just make sure the Predator realizes what a threat you are, or it won’t fight you head on, and you need it to do that to give you the best chance to beat it.”
“That’ll be the easy part,” I said as I carefully started attaching the various ammo packs to my belt, “the hard part will be convincing Mr. Hakamichi to be bait so I can fight the thing.”
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Next Chapter
"They shall be my finest warriors, these men who give of themselves to me. Like clay I shall mould them, and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle. They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear." – God-Emperor of Mankind
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