Colonel Farclear bit into the cigar, resisting the urge to gag.  General Hafter had been as cheap as usual; he always kept the best for himself.

“We need to take out the enemies forward base or we…”

The general droned on about the same plan he had been pushing for the last six months.  Thousands upon thousands of bodies now surrounded that forward base and Hafter continued to throw more on, as if hoping to suffocate it with flesh alone.

Colonel Farclear looked around the room, each man sat agitatedly, worn down by the Generals constant regurgitation of his plan.  None cared enough to object, it didn’t serve them to push through.  This was the last strong point of the resistance and after this was over there would be inevitable budget cuts, demotions and reassignments.

At least the cigars at the victory briefing wouldn’t make him gag, Farclear thought.  Victory briefings always had decent cigars.

“But this time, things will be different.”

Every pair of eyes in the room lifted in military unison to these words.  New words, a new plan?  Hafter nodded to the crowd of officers and tapped the projector with his stick, startling his assistant into moving to the next slide.

The screen at once lit up with profile of a weapon, rifle sized compared to the silhouette of a soldier illustrated beside it.  There was a murmur between the officers.  How could a new rifle make any difference?  The men were being mown down before they could even see the base.  One of the more confident officers gave a quiet, wheezing laugh.

“How is that going to make a difference?  Our guys will just be holding something else when they get shot down.”

The general looked at the diagram in disbelief, as if he too, had been expecting something else.  He walked over to his assistant, himself another young officer.  Hafter lifted his stick rapidly and with enough twitching vigour to make the man wince.

“Is that the wrong slide?”

“No.  It’s definitely the correct slide.”

The young man answered calmly; with a face riveted in such a way that there was no doubt that he was telling the truth.  The general looked back up to the screen and then returned to his position beside it as he attempted to salvage his presentation.

“Well, this, whatever it is.”

He coughed brusquely, attempting to re-attain his air of authority.

“This… is our new secret weapon.  To be deployed tomorrow morning in a test firing.  All officers will be present.”

***

There was another wave of murmuring between the officers.  Was this a joke?  Was somebody trying to get them all killed in order to save salary money?  Or, maybe, was the man in the illustration really six hundred feet high, was he the new weapon?

Farclear used the commotion to spit the stale cigar out of his mouth unnoticed, stamping down on it with his boot decisively.

Colonel Farclear was the last officer to make it to the clearing which looked down upon the graveyard that now surrounded the resistances last stronghold.  It had been hours since the last assault on the position so it was eerily quiet apart from a sporadic burst of machine gun fire or some out of range artillery fire crashing into the earth below them.

A confused looking group of officers were crowded around a small briefcase which had been left in the centre of the clearing.  One officer was pulling back his leg in preparation of giving it a kick before he was stopped dead by a withered but still somehow squeaky voice.

“Gentlemen.”

A dinosaur of a man glided into the clearing, followed by a visibly concerned general Hafter.  Farclear felt a chill run through his core as the old man came nearer; there was something unsettling about him.  The roughness of his skin felt infectious and Farclear felt impurities bubble up under his own, the scientist turned towards him and in a glance he inspected and dismissed Farclear.  The colonel felt violated as the two sharp points had passed over him.

“Come here.”

The scientist had thought better of him, Farclear thought, he moved forward to stand by the Scientist and the General.

“Pick it up.”

Farclear reached down and clutched the briefcase.  With little effort he pulled it into his arms.

“Hold it like this.”

While maintaining excruciating eye contact the scientist seized Farclear’s arms with surprising strength and molded them into his desired shape.  Farclear stood still, relegated to the role of table as the scientist manipulated the briefcases lock with his long fingers.  It clicked and opened wide, spring-loaded.  The scientist stepped back and turned to the officers.  Farclear tried to move his head so he could see but the top of the briefcase blocked his view from every angle.

“This is the terminator R-series rifle.  This shall be its first and possibly last field test.”

The scientist pulled the weapon from the briefcase and pieced it together artfully.  Completed, he held it lovingly in his hand like a child.  The rifle was obsidian black and was a collection of straight edges.

“Put the briefcase down.”

Farclear kneeled down and placed the briefcase down carefully on the soil.  Standing, he received the weapon from the scientist, who nodded solemnly as it passed into his hands.  The weapon felt unusual, unlike anything he had held before military or otherwise.  It was heavier than it looked and there was a strange stability to it, like it was connected to forces he couldn’t see.  The handle was cool but felt perfectly moulded to his hand.  His finger moved along the trigger, smooth and inviting.

Farclear looked around at the officers surrounding him.  He grinned widely at the attention and posed with the gun, raising it into the air with one hand.

“Well, how do I look?”

The officers were all focused on the gun however, none answered Farclear’s question.  They still had no idea what could be so special about a new rifle.

The scientist raised his arms.

“Please.”

The officers all focused their attention on him as the scientist waved his hand in the direction of the forward base, far into the distance.  There was a vague outline of fortifications and trenches on the horizon, hard to make out through the haze of smoke.  The Scientist nodded to Farclear.

Farclear didn’t understand, did he want him to fire at the base?  He was sure this had to be a joke or perhaps the rifle was some kind of elaborate targeting device for a new artillery piece.  Farclear shrugged and lifted the rifle to eye height.  Staring down the featureless surface of its smooth barrel he looked out at the fuzzy diorama of the distant base.  So far away that it looked like a collection of toys some child had left outside.

He pulled the trigger and the smooth lump receded into the handle of the rifle with a click.  He attempted to lower the rifle but found to his horror that it was locked in place.  A metallic ring stung his ears, as if a tiny bell had just been struck inside it.  Before he could shout for help there was a flash of blinding light and the air contracted and distorted around him, ballooning like a glass bubble collapsing into a vicious vacuum.  Farclear looked along the featureless black barrel as the fortifications withered in fast motion.  Melting like butter under a blowtorch.  The ringing stopped and his eyes couldn’t free themselves from the black crater, where the base had been.

“Oh my god.”

There was nothing left.  There was not even any smoke rising from the black pock on the wasteland.  There was nothing.  A cutting edge military fortress which could have held out indefinitely had just been removed from the face of the earth at the pull of a trigger.    Farclear almost dropped the rifle, prompting the frowning scientist to pull it from his arms.

“Be careful.  Give it here, the test is over.”

General Hart, like the rest of the officers could not take his eyes off the black mark on the horizon.

“How many of those are there?  Is that the only one?”

He was horrified when the scientist shook his head as he disassembled the rifle with the same fluidity with which he had put it together.  Farclear obediently held the briefcase in place with still quivering arms as it was filled and clicked shut.  The scientist took the briefcase from Farclear’s arms and let it fall by his side, almost toppling over his frail frame as gravity seized it.

“That is all.”

General Hafter looked puzzled.

“Are you not going to finish them off?  One more shot and this war is over.”

“That was not planned as part of this field test.  Good evening.”

The scientist walked out of the clearing, two un-noticed guards left their posts to follow him away through the trees.  The sound of a transport craft taking to the air followed and the trees shook as sped away.

The officers were left looking at the black mark scorched into the earth in wonder.  Not least Farclear on who it was rapidly dawning what he had done.  How much blood was now on his hands?

There was a flash of light and Farclear picked out something from beyond the forward base, deeper into the resistances territory.  There was a distortion in the air as the second phase of the field test begun.