Sometime after the Coruscant Shenanigans
The Tough Stuff
OOC: Credits to OG for inspiring this discussion. The Uncle Walt bit was a variant on an idea he had.
IC:
The TGSC Workshop was a veritable house of wonders. Here, the Mastersmiths and the finest scientists and magitechnologically inclined worked in harmony, developing new and better tools to both heal and harm.
It was here in this shop that Terry Tadanobu found herself looking at a peculiar object, nibbling on a random chorizo she had produced from those amazing pockets she always had. It was, by all accounts, a Kalashnikov Rifle. That mechanical contrivance which, for centuries, had sprung forth from armories across the Eurasian steppe to make its own mark on the world at large. There were certainly better weapons. Blasters. Menelmacari plasma guns. Huntarian Clones. Congressional Orbital Strikes. And yet the Kalashnikov held a special place in the hearts of Dornalians, especially those of the Order of the Vanguards who adopted it as a kind of ceremonial/religious weapon, in a manner akin to the Sikh kirpan. Call it sentimental value, perhaps, appreciating how something stupidly simple could make such a difference.
This Kalashnikov however, was anything but simple. Firearms connoisseurs would notice the AK would look like a Chinese Type 56, with its hooded sight and permanently affixed bayonet which swung out. But there was something more to it. Namely, the front end was a semi-futuristic handguard, with three vent holes, and an attached short foregrip on rails. The buttstock resembled a Zenitco PT-1 stock, and there was a dust cover with a rear mounted rear sight on it and with a rail on top, currently empty. The pistol grip was there, but it was black like the rest of the gun, and reshaped into something found normally on a M16A1. Finally, the lightsaber bayonet was permanently affixed, and in the rear position—that is, it was off, and folded back. The gun itself had an unusual matte sheen that was somewhere in between that of plastic, and of metal. Terry picked it up and looked at it skeptically.
“It’s an AK. Weren’t you gonna show me some new wonder metal, Dr. Sanchez?”
“Well, yes, Ma’am, but see, this AK is an example of the wonder metal in question.” The speaker was a young woman, comparatively short, with cat ears and a tail in a lab coat and wirerimmed glasses. “If you’ll notice, it’s at least two to three pounds lighter than a comparable model made using normal means. We fashioned everything in this gun from the wonder metal. Everything from the piston and bolt to the receiver and even the trigger group. Even with all the cool stuff on there.”
“I see.” Terry lifted it up, and looked down the sights as she aimed at the ceiling. “Keep talking.”
Dr. Sanchez then continued, gesturing to some specifications being projected onto the wall. “Now, in terms of weight savings, that’s not the only obvious thing we’ve done. We’ve also taken the liberty of making the new material resistant to a large variety of damage types. We’ve tested it on everything from extreme cold…”
There was footage of the AK being left out in the snowdrifts of Ilum, with fast forward used to skip the boring step of watching it sit there for seventy two hours before a man picked it up, aimed it into the air and fired a long burst into the air with a hearty “WOOOHOOO!” Sanchez continued, showing video of all the torture tests being done to the Kalashnikov in Terry’s hands. Said footage included scientists dropping the Kalashnikov into an acid bath. It also included the Kalashnikov being smacked into by everything from Allanean gravbikes—this footage had the test pilot wipe out and tumble to the ground after failing to perform a powerslide to celebrate his collision with the Kalashnikov—to a A-34 tank and even a large piece of rebar with Jabba the Hutt’s face on it dropped from a height of fifty feet. It was even lathered in petroleum jelly and all sorts of slimy looking substances on the inside and out and used in a deluded game of curling, before the AK was fired in long bursts at a side of beef, spraying out gunk from its insides as it did so and not breaking a sweat.
Terry winced at some of the more graphic footage, especially the bit where the AK was doused with napalm and white phosphorous and set on fire, with the testers picking it up and firing the gun as it was on fire singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic with naught but special gloves and a gas mask. The look she shot Sanchez expressed a mix of disapproval and astonishment, to which Sanchez merely shrugged.
Sanchez then went, “But enough footage of torture testing!” with a hearty grin that put Terry on edge. She then went, “Now, its time for the main attraction. Ma’am, I’m gonna need the AK back. And for you and your staff to step back fifty feet.”
Terry nodded and returned the AK, and then received safety glasses and ear protection in return, as did all others in the room.
The AK being duly returned, it was then suspended from the ceiling so it would remain stable, and fixed. Sanchez then picked up a lightsaber, igniting it and putting on a pair of safety goggles. She then shouted, “STAND CLEAR!!!!” and people obeyed. Then, like a piñata at a child’s birthday party, she began to smack the Kalashnikov repeatedly, striking it on all sides. Every inch of the AK from the receiver to the barrel was smacked with the saber using diagonal slashes, thrusts and even constant exposure by holding the ignited blade for long periods over the weapon. There was some sparking and so on, and it was impressive to see, and it lasted for a lot longer than one expected--namely, a good, solid fifteen minutes.
The catgirl then de-powered the saber, and took the AK from its location with the help of a stepladder before she nodded and loaded a fresh magazine, charging the weapon by pulling back on the handle and slamming it home. Then, she walked into an area of the lab surrounded by ballistics glass and energy shields, shouted “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” and turned to a nearby ballistics gel dummy next to a pyramid of watermelons and a side of rotted beef, setting the gun to full auto. Then, to no one’s great surprise, Sanchez proceeded to dump two magazines in one long orgy of thunderous sound and violence, reducing the targets to shreds in a glorious shower of green, generated by the TGSC-made plasma cartridges which could be fed into a standard AK.
The catgirl then walked out of the room, and handed the AK to Terry after making sure the chamber was empty. Sanchez went, “As you can tell, the metal has the ability to resist environmental damage, impacts, and being hit by a fucking lightsaber over and over again! Not bad for a substance made of carbon fiber, impregnated with silksteel, heat resistant artificial fibers and metals, and even the odd bit of ceramic normally used in industrial and spacefaring applications!”
As the staff wondered how they were going to clean up the mess in the shooting test area, Terry nodded and stroked her chin in thought. She liked what she saw. This had grand potential as the next big composite, especially for building things to be used when Jedi were involved. However, there was one thing she thought of—Nick had taught her to never, ever waste money when something perfectly good was available that did the same job for less. In that spirit, Terry asked, “Wait. Don’t we have phrik? I mean, I’m not sure making a new super composite is worth….that stuff you showed me.”
Sanchez took off her safety goggles, and continued with confidence.
“I’d love to use phrik, but the problem is that some demented, reality warping Womp Rat named Uncle Walt decided to buy the SWG and then buy up the majority of the phrik supply. Now it’s rare as hell, and only found in lightsabers.” Sighing, Sanchez declared, “Worst day of my life.” Pausing, Sanchez simply indicated, “Now, I did test this stuff out in our manufacturing equipment. It’ll work with standard fabbers and industrial replicators. The bitch of it is just making batches of the stuff. It’s not cheap. But it’s sure as hell more available than phrik.”
Terry nodded, her expression turning impressed. She hadn’t even felt the heavy hand of Uncle Walt altering the universe at large, but if what Sanchez said was true…this stuff was needed more than ever.
“Well, it’s got my vote! It can resist lightsaber strikes and it makes already good, rugged items even more so! But what do we call it!?”
“Funny you should say that. I was thinking Territanium.”
Terry paused for a moment, and laughed.
“Thanks for the gesture. Alright, get some more test runs on this stuff, and run some comparison tests against actual phrik. If this works, you’ve got something here I’d like!”
Terry then turned to the mess made of the gel dummy. Her tone grew more worried, as she eyed the mess and motioned for the staff to bring her a mop and bucket. And some help.
“Just make sure you don’t….make any more messes.”
