Lunch Break

Posted on Sun Sep 30th, 2018 @ 1:53am by Commander Rita Paris
Edited on on Thu Apr 23rd, 2020 @ 11:38am

Mission: Hera v Hera
Location: USS Hera, Deck 10, Holosuite 21
Timeline: 2395, en route to Meroset 347
Tags: TR-116C2

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Stress. Stress. More stress.

Today Rita could and did demonstrate that in the 30 seconds it took to move through the chow line, she could be done with her lunch. With travel time that left her 28 minutes of her own time, and she had a holosuite booked for 22 of those. Stepping into the booth, Rita flopped against the wall in frustration.

The temptation to let the Counselor make her play just so they could study Hera's energies in action and thus work out how to block off or interfere with her power supply somehow. The science wasn't Rita Paris' department. Just the ideas and the improvisation. For now, just in case wave after wave of mythological monster army was coming at her on this mission, Sergeant Calhoun wanted to know what her big slug thrower was going to be and how it worked.

"Computer?"

After a pause of five seconds, the computer answered.

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris? =^=

"Computer, would you please equip me in my armor suit?" As the MACO armor materialized onto the anachronism, who thought it was just a convincing hologram, continued. "The stealth plating is activation based- it doesn't run all of the time unless I leave it on, correct?"

=^= That is correct, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"Let's try some colors. Show me the armor with red plating please, bodysuit can remain light black. Three-way mirror images from different angles within my field of vision?" As three different angles of the armor-clad adventuress admired her assets, she looked skyward with a smile. "Thank you, computer."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"Let's see my command uniform gold.... hrm... shiny gold? Too shiny... maybe just a very shiny mustard yellow... yes! That's it, thank you! The helmet is collapsible like... ah, helmet, the interface is under life support, have to seal the suit's atmosphere before uncovering, agree, yes skip countdown why is that even in there..." As the helmet retracted from the armor, Rita admired her black and yellow armored form from every angle.

"So I get to go ninja like Calhoun but I still have an 'I come in peace' look. Computer, emblazon the left breast with my era Starfleet insignia of command, please." As the computer complied, Rita ran her armored hands through her hair and instinctively reached for a PaDD. Shaking her head and sighing to herself, the first officer looked skyward once more.

"Computer, please save this pattern, and apply this color scheme to my physical armor along with the stealth plating. If we're moving into the future I may as well look the part." As Rita gave the order, the suit she was wearing hummed and tingled like a mild transporter effect. The first officer cocked her head.

"Computer, am I wearing my armor right now... I mean my actual physical armor? Did you beam it onto me?"

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^= the computer replied calmly.

"Why did you beam my armor onto my body on the holodeck?"

=^= Because you asked me to equip you in your armor suit. =^=

"Gotta learn to watch what I say. Well, now I know it's possible at least. Thank you, computer."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"So, I should learn what this great and terrible firearm of the future is." Tapping at the wrist comm on her left wrist, Rita brought up a holopadd, then went to work digging through her notes to find the answer to her question. Some questions were best answered by oneself.

"There it is. Computer, holographically reproduce one TR-116C2 if you please, slung for a right hander," Rita shifted the PaDD to her left hand and held up her right, as the weapon materialized in her grip. Hefting it, she was surprised at the weight. Even with the strength assist of the suit's micromusculature assistance, she could feel the weapon's density. hefting it onto her hip, it fit well. Swinging it around to a two-handed grip, Rita raised the futuristic weapon of Starfleet and felt for the safety, finding it where she expected it and it operated as she expected it to work.

"How about the sales pitch? Summarize the user's manual aloud, computer, please?"

=^= The model C was redesigned for more efficient operation against Borg and similar targets as the TR-116C, using a magazine filled with dense replicator matter to feed a micro-replication system to create a string of 2.2mm tritanium bullets and varied ammunition types as needed. =^=

"So our mystery tungsten/rhenium alloy will come into play with the modified versions Thex concocted. All right, and that explains why it's so darned heavy- dense matter in the magazine. What sort of performance are we discussing here, computer?"

=^= The normal capacity of the replicator matter magazine is 80-120 rounds depending on settings. Normal ball point, hollow point, incendiary, delayed tracer rounds, and marker rounds are the most commonly programmed ammunition types. Only single fire and three round burst are enabled. =^=

"Well, how about that. Drawbacks to the weapon, computer?"

=^= The gyrostatic stabilization system can be a bit buggy during high rates of fire, but is fairly consistent in keeping all 3 rounds on target as long as the operator waits a moment for it to resync between cycles. The main unit is powered by the same dual regenerative power supply used in the standard issue proton rifle. Along with this, it uses the targeting microcomputer from the same rifle. =^=

"Lah dee dah. Does the weapon have any specific advantages?"

=^= Because of the power supply, it still functions in environments that normal phasers are useless in, and has greater effectiveness against energy shielded targets. A transporter module and exographic targeting system can be attached for stealth sniper missions, but is not part of the normal loadout. =^=

"A wait what now? This thing has a transporter system option, so you you can what, fire the projectile then beam it before it loses any velocity OH MY SWEET AUNT MILDRED THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT DOES."

=^= The MACO modified TR-116-C2 takes this technology to an even higher extreme, replacing the lower mechanical tube with a secondary 18mm barrel that can be used for more specialized ammunition. Common preprogrammed munitions are micro-airburst, smoke grenade, rubber, low yield plasma grenade, and tear gas. This reduces a magazine's rounds to 6-12 depending on the munition produced. It also adds a full auto option and a sturdier gyrostatic stabilization system to aid with consistent targeting. =^=

"Well that's all nice to know. Recoilless, isn't it?"

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

Hefting the weight of the weapon, Rita slung it over her back on the strap, only to discover that the rifle had magnets matching some in her armor, that spun the rifle the correct way and clipped it to her back so that she could reach it when she needed it. Reaching for her phaser, it was not in it's holster. Apparently because her phaser was not stored with her armor the computer hadn't beamed it in. "Computer, please holographically reproduce my phaser."

As the antique appearing weapon shimmered into existence in her hand, Rita smiled. She liked the 2266 version of the phaser from this universe. Thex had crafted her one that looked like the classic model but still packed the punch of a modern phaser. The personal phaser could still be detached, Rita knew how to work the weapon, and wasn't the worst shot with it. Those dustbusters the throwback trouble magnet couldn't figure out how to aim. Which reminded her, Sonak had probably adapted to the dustbusters just fine but he might appreciate a little touch of the old days.

"Computer, paint Lieutenant Sonak's armor a complementary shade of science blue for him, please. 2268 science insignia on his left breast, stealth plating as well. Also, please relay a work order to engineering to produce me four more of these phasers."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. Work order placed. =^=

"Thank you." Sliding the cutlass from her back, the bell guard ratcheted into being around her hand, and Rita wondered if she was going to have to crown someone with this enhanced strength with the guard, or be so desperate as to drive the blade through someone. "A yard of steel is always handy, no matter what shadow you're in."

One of the books on her father's shelves that young Rita had not supposed to have read but did anyway were the Chronicles of Amber. In it she learned of the pattern of order in the center of the universe that echoed out across eternity, crafting shadows of itself as other worlds, other realities, all with various differences. Some shadows were made more solid by the presence of those who had walked the pattern and could shape reality itself. To this day she remembered Corwyn's advice about a yard of steel, and his quote about honor.

Sliding the large machete back into it's sheath, the bell guard retracted. Hefting the truncheon, getting a feel for the weight, Rita took a deep breath and sighed. Arming for war. Transporter rifles and mythological alloy bullets and minotaurs and how the hell were they supposed to stop an army.

"Computer, please holographically reproduce the nature trail at Starfleet Academy, circa 2253." As a view of the past that was not her past shimmered into view, Rita Paris looked over the well-lit campus. "Set time to 17:20 on October 1st" Rita specified, and the sun dropped low in the west. Smiling at the reproduction of her home star, standing on the reproduction of her home planet at twilight, the sailor of the stars' favorite time of day, the armored figure moved through a series of stretched, which she could still manage in the plated armor of the hardsuits.

Looking at the golden orb of Sol in the west, setting into the pacific that she might never see again, the space explorer began to run, her augmented musculature and superior traction swiftly moving to a sprint, then practically a streak. Running from her problems wouldn't solve them, but it might be a short-term answer while she came up with a solution. That had been the experience of much of Rita Paris' Starfleet career, and even with a BFG on her back and a big knife and a few new tricks in her bag, the hard-luck heroine strongly suspected that she would still end up running from trouble with Sonak at her heels soon enough.

Might as well use a few minutes of lunch to train for what Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris knew would come in handy- running.