Post by Trask on Jun 28, 2006 17:11:56 GMT -5
Bolivar Trask was a patient man. He had long ago learned that a rash decision was most often a bad decision. And Trask was a man who did not make bad decisions. He studied the clip-board clasped firmly in one hand, its clasp stuffed with pages upon pages of notes.
In front of him, his chief scientist, Mr. Gregory Simmons shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other. Simmons, Trask knew, was not a patient man. He was a good man though, who believed in his country and worked hard in its defence.
Right now, his most recent project, the product of nearly two intensive years of research and development loomed behind him.
"Looks good," Bolivar said, "have you successfully calibrated the Cerebro circuit?"
Simmons gave his commander a bright smile. "Yes sir, in nineteen out of twenty trials the circuit performed as expected. The one failure was traced to a malfunction in the power core and maintenance were able to correct it within a day. Since then all systems have stayed well within operational parameters."
Trask nodded and clapped Simmons on the shoulder. The smaller man winced slightly but lost none of his smile; this was a project that would revolutionise the military and prevent a disaster like Alcatraz from ever happening again.
"Very good Simmons," Trask paused a looked his creation up and down. "How about the armament," he flicked back a few pages, "have we solved the recoil issue with the pacifiers?"
Simmons said nothing, instead raising a hand to a trio of scientists that waited behind an armoured blast shield. The three, all with safety goggles and ear defenders went to work on a small panel and all off a sudden the air was filled with flying projectiles. A line of fire stitched its way across the range at the rear of the room and the hot stink of spent propellant filled the air.
After a moment the fusillade stopped. Trask walked slowly to the line of mannequins that served a target dummies and examined the work. Every target had been hit by at least half a dozen projectiles.
"Outstanding," he called back to the scientists who smiled at each other in silent congratulation.
Trask returned to where Simmons waited.
"I do believe Mr. Simmons," Bolivar said slowly, with a thin smile, "we are ready for field testing."
In front of him, his chief scientist, Mr. Gregory Simmons shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other. Simmons, Trask knew, was not a patient man. He was a good man though, who believed in his country and worked hard in its defence.
Right now, his most recent project, the product of nearly two intensive years of research and development loomed behind him.
"Looks good," Bolivar said, "have you successfully calibrated the Cerebro circuit?"
Simmons gave his commander a bright smile. "Yes sir, in nineteen out of twenty trials the circuit performed as expected. The one failure was traced to a malfunction in the power core and maintenance were able to correct it within a day. Since then all systems have stayed well within operational parameters."
Trask nodded and clapped Simmons on the shoulder. The smaller man winced slightly but lost none of his smile; this was a project that would revolutionise the military and prevent a disaster like Alcatraz from ever happening again.
"Very good Simmons," Trask paused a looked his creation up and down. "How about the armament," he flicked back a few pages, "have we solved the recoil issue with the pacifiers?"
Simmons said nothing, instead raising a hand to a trio of scientists that waited behind an armoured blast shield. The three, all with safety goggles and ear defenders went to work on a small panel and all off a sudden the air was filled with flying projectiles. A line of fire stitched its way across the range at the rear of the room and the hot stink of spent propellant filled the air.
After a moment the fusillade stopped. Trask walked slowly to the line of mannequins that served a target dummies and examined the work. Every target had been hit by at least half a dozen projectiles.
"Outstanding," he called back to the scientists who smiled at each other in silent congratulation.
Trask returned to where Simmons waited.
"I do believe Mr. Simmons," Bolivar said slowly, with a thin smile, "we are ready for field testing."
