Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Eight: Gideon's Break (Patreon)

That Monday, I returned to Farnborough.

Honoria had gone through her second surgery and was recovering well. Between her contributions, some samples donated from the NHS’ cancer wards, and a few other samples, I had been able to synthesize my first Mentacapacitor.

The Small Mentacapacitor was easy enough to charge - I simply had to focus my attention on it, and instead of recharging my MP, my Regen capability filled it up.

QUEST COMPLETED! MENTACAPACITOR TECH.

Paul’s work visa had been processed, and he was slated to join BAE-Dragonfly in a few days. Dr. Palmer and Clegg had managed to set up the rest of the manufacturing process, and Gideon was busy finalizing a ton of year-end paperwork. With his frenzied muttering about ‘book closure’, ‘ledger reconciliation’ and ‘year-end entries’, the otherwise affable accountant now wore a constant haggard look.

By unspoken agreement, the three of us avoided him as much as we could.

Meanwhile, I stocked up on what I’d need.

Beneath the laboratory and the factory lay the results of several months of work. Hollowed out basements and sub-basements, reinforced with concrete walls and steel plate.

Two of the largest storage rooms were for nanofibre weave cloth and fullersteel ingots. These were, of necessity, on the first sub-basement.

A level below, my stores of javelins, power packs, gravitic sensors and control arrays.

One level lower, the more volatile - and dangerous - of our raw materials; octanitrocubane, TNT, plasmium cores.

And in the lowest basement, the two storerooms which held the prizes of the whole collection.

Thirty Hellfire-XII missiles, a variant of the Hellfire-X I’d used at London. Only difference being, each carried a Plasma Warhead, giving them a damage output of 800,000.

And ten Starfall-I missiles, each capable of inflicting five million damage on an enemy when launched.

If these forty missiles were to be detonated simultaneously, the force of the blast - even reduced by layers of concrete and fullersteel - would be felt at the other end of London.

Fifty-two million damage. Compared to a nuclear warhead, it was tiny - a one-kiloton weapon would do a mind-boggling twenty-five billion damage, this was 0.2% of that.

A year ago, I’d been impressed at the eighty damage a Fullersteel Pilum could do.

How powerful would my weapons be in another year? Would I still be measuring their output in fractions of a nuke?

Existential - and somewhat terrifying - questions.

Which was why every missile, every grenade, and every explosive had been assigned to me individually. Without my command, none of them would ignite. Not even if they were dosed in  kerosene and lit on fire.

Except for the explosive in the Starfall missiles, but if you could drill through the armored shell and boron carbide layering to get to it, you probably had access to better tech.

Building the basements had been an exercise in construction design and installation. Clegg had helped, but without being able to tell him exactly what I had in mind, he’d been limited to general guidance only. I’d ended up doing most of the work.

A necessary effort, since getting to Level 20 in Construction had needed me to build, and build, and build.

Building the Starfall missiles had boosted my skills in Engineering, Explosives and a host of others, so I was now comfortably overlevelled for the next step - which would come into play after the next three Mentacapacitors were ready.

In the meantime, I spent time talking to BAE’s human resources department to hire my parent to set up a human resources department for the firm of which BAE was the parent.

Joy.

After going through the regulatory hoops involved in getting a work permit, I wondered why companies ever hired folks from overseas….

“Belessar, why do I have an email asking for a CF-22-J-13 form?”

From the imposing heights of the Greyhound, I stared down at our CEO. “Gideon. Good to see you. The stuff you were working on done?”

“If you mean our audited financial accounts for the year, not yet, and that doesn’t explain why the Home Office Visas division is asking me for additional information. What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to get the visa done for Paul Drake. BAE HR told me to write to the Home Office.”

Gideon rubbed his forehead, as if fighting off a headache. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

“You’ve been preoccupied…”

“And I would have taken the ten minutes it’ll take to get the right forms filled, instead of having to sort out the mess of extra paperwork. CF-22-J-13 is the form for ultrahumans, CF-16-Q-36 is the one for NATO citizens without a security clearance from another NATO approved contractor.”

“... Sorry, I got confused.”

“Never mind, I’ll sort it out. What are you doing in the suit? And on the grass?” He glanced around warily. “Are we in any danger?”

“No, I’m just exercising. I haven’t had a chance to run through an Armor Kata for a while.”

“I see. Is there a reason there’s a bunch of traffic cones strewn randomly across the lawn?”

“Target practice. You want to see something cool?”

“Is it safe?”

“As long as you’re standing in the doorway, sure.”

Gideon sighed. “I could use a break. Why not.”

I smiled.

Pivoting in my armor, I targeted the first of the cones.

The crack! of Lightning Strike echoed across the yard. Traffic cone #1 exploded.

Gideon flinched and covered his ears.

Less than a second later, another Lightning Strike lashed out, smashing into Traffic Cone #2.

Each strike took a mere 20 MP, recharged in less than a tenth of a second.

Another Strike lashed out, then another, then another. Targets were being designated by my Greyhound’s computer, and destroyed an instant later.

Could I move faster?

Another Strike, then another, then another.

I was switching between targets near-instantly, hitting them again and again. This Armor Kata was about a seamless stream of rapid-fire energy shots, almost continuous, as a way to devastate a formation of enemies.

Normally it was used with a machine gun. I’d wanted to see if I could recreate the effect with Lightning Strike.

The flashes of lightning continued, exploding cone after cone as the smell of burnt plastic and ozone filled the air.

Less than half a minute later, Traffic Cone #100 exploded into tiny shards of superheated plastic.

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE ELECTROCUTED ONE HUNDRED PIECES OF PLASTIC IN RECORD TIME.

TITLE UNLOCKED: DIOXIN DEMON. 100% INCREASE IN CARBON FOOTPRINT.

SKILL UPGRADE: LIGHTNING STRIKE INCREASES TO LEVEL 3.

NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: CHAIN LIGHTNING.

YOU CAN NOW TARGET MULTIPLE ENEMIES SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH LIGHTNING STRIKE, FOR INCREASE MP COST.

LEVEL 1: DAMAGE: +60 PER ENEMY, UP TO 8 SIMULTANEOUS TARGETS.

COST: 500 MP.

Clegg came running out, fire extinguisher in hand. “What’s going on?” he yelled. “I smelled smoke!”

Gideon was kneeling in the corner, eyes screwed shut and ears covered. “Belessar!”

“Wasn’t that cool?”

“No! It was not cool! Do you have any idea how LOUD that is?”

“Uhh…”

“I swear to God if I need hearing aids after this I’m going to send you the bill!”

Had it really been that loud? “Sorry, I just thought you’d find it fun...”

“No! That was not fun! That was worse than a rock concert on steroids crossbred with my aunt Fanny’s caterwauling! Next time please leave me out of it!” Gideon stormed off.

Clegg scratched his head. “What vomited orange plastic all over the lawn?”