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."29Andata Province, Diess IV0019 GMT May 19th, 2002 ADThe journey of a hundred meters begins with one push, thought O'Neal.The suit lights had banished the enveloping darkness, butthe twisted masses of plascrete and rubble they revealed was just asdepressing."Okay, have you come up with any ideas?" he asked his AID."Only one.There is a small open area 3.5 meters away at 123 degrees mark 8.If you can worm your way there, you can work your way towards the nearest exitby blasting small openings with the activator charges on your grav rounds.""What, you mean use them as explosives? How?""If you jam one of them firmly in place then shoot it with your grav pistol,it will fracture the antimatter activator charge, releasing the energy as anexplosion.""That sounds.odd but possible.Okay, all I have to do is make it ten oreleven feet up and to the right.How do I turn over? Never mind.I've gotan idea." His right hand was, fortunately, near his grav pistol.The suit'sbiomechanical musculature made short work of the intervening rubble and hesighed as his gauntlet contacted the familiar grip.He drew it and angled thebarrel across his abdominal cuirass, the point that seemed most tightlyconstricted.Whispering a brief prayer to whatever gods might be watching thisdust bowl of a planet, he triggered a single round into the plascrete mass.Page 135 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlThe concussion belled unexpectedly loud through the armor, transmitting bycontact noise that previously had been comfortably muffled.Despite themuffling underlayer, his ears rang as though someone had put a tin bucket overhis head and whacked it sharply with a stick.There was a moment's freedom ashe rolled quickly to his left then his right shoulder stuck fast again.If hewere out of the suit, he could have flexed his shoulders inward and made theturn.On the other hand, if he was out of the suit he would be dead.Theexternal monitors indicated very low oxygen levels and aerosol toxins,probably a result of all the combusted fish oil and associated burning.He worked the barrel upwards and carefully turned his head to the side.If theround struck the helmet or any part of his armor dead on he would be pureed aseffectively as that poor private in the first contact.Pressing the barrel asmuch as possible into the slab, he triggered another round.This time itskittered ineffectually along the plascrete and ricocheted off his cuirass.The relativistic teardrop left a deep, glowing trench in the refractory armorthat had shed thousands of lower velocity flechettes in the earlier battle andthe heat dissipated through the underlayer.Rattled by the near miss he tried again and on the second attempt cracked therefractory plascrete.He twisted like a cat and found himself on his stomachfacing slightly downward.Although there was pressure on several points hecould move the rubble after a fashion, courtesy of the tremendous poweravailable from the combat armor.After he twisted back and forth for a bit,the slab piece that had cracked to the left of his shoulder and was now acrosshis right slipped beneath him with a resounding crash and a small area wasopened to the upper right.He holstered his pistol and snaked a hand up to aconvenient handhold revealed in his suit lights.With a firm grip on a pieceof structural ceramet he dragged the rest of his body sharply up and to theright.Since this was the way he wanted to go he braced his feet on the rubblehe had extracted himself from and pushed upwards.He was rewarded by slidingsharply backwards.After a good bit more struggle and twice being forced to use his pistol whenvigorous activities were rewarded by large slabs pinning some point of hisarmor he finally reached the promised open area.Above his head was some indefinable piece of machinery.It was this largesomething, another indefinable bit of Galactic machinery that created thepocket.He took a sip of water and just sat and scanned his situation for amoment.No rifle, lost sometime during the explosion.Shoulder grenadelaunchers sheared off clean.Replacement was a simple field repair assumingspares which he ain't got.One hundred twenty-eight thousand remaining roundsof depleted uranium 3mm penetrators with antimatter activator charge, prettymuch useless without a rifle.Grav pistol and forty-five hundred rounds.Twohundred eighty-three grenades, hand or launcher useable.A thousand meters of10,000kg test micro line, universal clamp and winch.C-9, four kilograms.Detonators.Sundry pyrotechnic and specialty demolition supplies.PersonalArea Force-screen; useless against kinetic weapons, as he had pointed out, butof some utility otherwise.His suit had air, food and water for at least amonth.Unfortunately, at his current rate of energy consumption he would be out ofpower in twelve hours; the kinetic damping systems had been forced to workovertime counteracting not only the effects of the fuel air explosion but alsothe settlement of the rubble.Combine all of those with the unexpected andunprecedented strains involved in extracting through the rubble and it was arecipe for disaster.Mike took a bite of suit rations.Ah, pork fried rice pulp.The semibioticliner of the suit absorbed all bodily wastes, skin-borne oxygen and nitrogen,dead skin cells, sweat, urine and, ahem, and converted them back intobreathable air, potable water and surprisingly edible food.In fact the foodwas quite tasty and constantly changing; just now it changed to broccoli.Thetexture was still paste, but the system pulled a little power and voilà.No worries about anything but power, as long as he did not think of wherePage 136 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe food was coming from.Well, if it took twelve hours to work through the rubble, he might as well bedead; by then he would be far behind the lines.If he was alone, he would bedead.On the other hand."Michelle, how many other members of the battalion are down here andfunctional?" The GalTech communications network could easily punch through therubble and determine precise positions of every unit."Fifty-eight.The senior is Captain Wright of Alpha company.Captain Vero isalso trapped underQualtrev, but he is severely injured and his AID has administered Hiberzine.There are thirty-two personnel who will survive if they are evacuated to aclass one medical facility within one hundred eighty days.All are now inhibernation."Mike rocked his armor back and forth on the plascrete pile trying to make amore stable spot."Okay, gimme a three-D map with locations, and note rankwith increasing brightness levels [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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."29Andata Province, Diess IV0019 GMT May 19th, 2002 ADThe journey of a hundred meters begins with one push, thought O'Neal.The suit lights had banished the enveloping darkness, butthe twisted masses of plascrete and rubble they revealed was just asdepressing."Okay, have you come up with any ideas?" he asked his AID."Only one.There is a small open area 3.5 meters away at 123 degrees mark 8.If you can worm your way there, you can work your way towards the nearest exitby blasting small openings with the activator charges on your grav rounds.""What, you mean use them as explosives? How?""If you jam one of them firmly in place then shoot it with your grav pistol,it will fracture the antimatter activator charge, releasing the energy as anexplosion.""That sounds.odd but possible.Okay, all I have to do is make it ten oreleven feet up and to the right.How do I turn over? Never mind.I've gotan idea." His right hand was, fortunately, near his grav pistol.The suit'sbiomechanical musculature made short work of the intervening rubble and hesighed as his gauntlet contacted the familiar grip.He drew it and angled thebarrel across his abdominal cuirass, the point that seemed most tightlyconstricted.Whispering a brief prayer to whatever gods might be watching thisdust bowl of a planet, he triggered a single round into the plascrete mass.Page 135 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlThe concussion belled unexpectedly loud through the armor, transmitting bycontact noise that previously had been comfortably muffled.Despite themuffling underlayer, his ears rang as though someone had put a tin bucket overhis head and whacked it sharply with a stick.There was a moment's freedom ashe rolled quickly to his left then his right shoulder stuck fast again.If hewere out of the suit, he could have flexed his shoulders inward and made theturn.On the other hand, if he was out of the suit he would be dead.Theexternal monitors indicated very low oxygen levels and aerosol toxins,probably a result of all the combusted fish oil and associated burning.He worked the barrel upwards and carefully turned his head to the side.If theround struck the helmet or any part of his armor dead on he would be pureed aseffectively as that poor private in the first contact.Pressing the barrel asmuch as possible into the slab, he triggered another round.This time itskittered ineffectually along the plascrete and ricocheted off his cuirass.The relativistic teardrop left a deep, glowing trench in the refractory armorthat had shed thousands of lower velocity flechettes in the earlier battle andthe heat dissipated through the underlayer.Rattled by the near miss he tried again and on the second attempt cracked therefractory plascrete.He twisted like a cat and found himself on his stomachfacing slightly downward.Although there was pressure on several points hecould move the rubble after a fashion, courtesy of the tremendous poweravailable from the combat armor.After he twisted back and forth for a bit,the slab piece that had cracked to the left of his shoulder and was now acrosshis right slipped beneath him with a resounding crash and a small area wasopened to the upper right.He holstered his pistol and snaked a hand up to aconvenient handhold revealed in his suit lights.With a firm grip on a pieceof structural ceramet he dragged the rest of his body sharply up and to theright.Since this was the way he wanted to go he braced his feet on the rubblehe had extracted himself from and pushed upwards.He was rewarded by slidingsharply backwards.After a good bit more struggle and twice being forced to use his pistol whenvigorous activities were rewarded by large slabs pinning some point of hisarmor he finally reached the promised open area.Above his head was some indefinable piece of machinery.It was this largesomething, another indefinable bit of Galactic machinery that created thepocket.He took a sip of water and just sat and scanned his situation for amoment.No rifle, lost sometime during the explosion.Shoulder grenadelaunchers sheared off clean.Replacement was a simple field repair assumingspares which he ain't got.One hundred twenty-eight thousand remaining roundsof depleted uranium 3mm penetrators with antimatter activator charge, prettymuch useless without a rifle.Grav pistol and forty-five hundred rounds.Twohundred eighty-three grenades, hand or launcher useable.A thousand meters of10,000kg test micro line, universal clamp and winch.C-9, four kilograms.Detonators.Sundry pyrotechnic and specialty demolition supplies.PersonalArea Force-screen; useless against kinetic weapons, as he had pointed out, butof some utility otherwise.His suit had air, food and water for at least amonth.Unfortunately, at his current rate of energy consumption he would be out ofpower in twelve hours; the kinetic damping systems had been forced to workovertime counteracting not only the effects of the fuel air explosion but alsothe settlement of the rubble.Combine all of those with the unexpected andunprecedented strains involved in extracting through the rubble and it was arecipe for disaster.Mike took a bite of suit rations.Ah, pork fried rice pulp.The semibioticliner of the suit absorbed all bodily wastes, skin-borne oxygen and nitrogen,dead skin cells, sweat, urine and, ahem, and converted them back intobreathable air, potable water and surprisingly edible food.In fact the foodwas quite tasty and constantly changing; just now it changed to broccoli.Thetexture was still paste, but the system pulled a little power and voilà.No worries about anything but power, as long as he did not think of wherePage 136 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe food was coming from.Well, if it took twelve hours to work through the rubble, he might as well bedead; by then he would be far behind the lines.If he was alone, he would bedead.On the other hand."Michelle, how many other members of the battalion are down here andfunctional?" The GalTech communications network could easily punch through therubble and determine precise positions of every unit."Fifty-eight.The senior is Captain Wright of Alpha company.Captain Vero isalso trapped underQualtrev, but he is severely injured and his AID has administered Hiberzine.There are thirty-two personnel who will survive if they are evacuated to aclass one medical facility within one hundred eighty days.All are now inhibernation."Mike rocked his armor back and forth on the plascrete pile trying to make amore stable spot."Okay, gimme a three-D map with locations, and note rankwith increasing brightness levels [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]