(no subject)
And then there is another kind of miracle altogether.
"Here, Quinn- what's in these crates?" calls Jared, who's finally found the load they last carted off the hoverskid. "I can't read this alphabet."
Neither can anyone else, but that's all right. Lando Calrissian taught Quinn what 'press here to open' looked like, which was really all he needed to know. He presses his hand against the critical spot on the side of the shipping crate-
"Bloody hell!" says Jared, and from the sound of it the other men who've gathered around to see concur with him. "Where'd you get that many guns?"
"They're not guns, exactly," says Quinn as he lifts the first one out and examines it. "Not as we know 'em, anyway. They don't use bullets. The man who sold 'em to me said they run off some sort of power cell. Ought to be good for three years, if we don't put 'em to heavy use."
Ken, down from his vigil on the ramparts for a few minutes, gives a skeptical snort. "I suppose you'll say there's a sonic screwdriver under there somewhere next. . ."
"Nah. Just these." Quinn glances around, sees face after face wearing the same expression. Jared is the only exception. He's not so skeptical as the rest, and he quite wants to see, so Quinn offers him the blaster. "We ought to test 'em before we add them to the armoury- Jared, would you do the honours?"
"What, in here?" Jared's eyes flick up from the weapon for a moment. "You're joking, right?"
Quinn gives him a Look.
". . . right. Outside. What'm I to shoot at?"
"Oh, I don't know. First dragon to pass over the courtyard? One of the rocks, Jared. Use your head."
The young man flushes, but nods, and a few minutes later the knot of men is gathered behind him out in the castle's courtyard. There's a lump of stone about half again the size of Jared's head; this is carefully set atop a salvaged plastic crate, and then everyone save Quinn retreats several paces. For his part, Quinn figures he might as well see this from as close to the shooter's point of view as possible. If Calrissian really did sell him working energy weapons. . . well.
"Fire when ready, Jared," he says, hands in his pockets.
There's a moment of silence as Jared tries to work out just exactly how to aim the thing. It's not the sort of rifle he's held before. The balance is all wrong. He's not sure, either, whether he's got to brace for a kickback-
There's a pwing! noise as a yard-long lance of orange light flashes from the gun's muzzle. For an instant the lump of rock glows; then it falls into a dozen smoking pieces. The exclamations from the witnesses drown out the sound of its fall. Jared turns to stare at his foster-father, whose smile hides an overwhelming relief that this, too, turned out in his favour.
"Every one of those blasters gets tested once," Quinn calls out, once the chatter's died down. "I want everyone to know how to fire one of these things, but we don't need to waste the charges. After that they go in the armoury."
"Quinn?" says Eddie, stepping forward. "D'you reckon those'd be any use against-"
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. Everyone knows the enemy Eddie is thinking of.
There's a long silence.
"I dunno," Quinn says at last. "And I don't want to see us bear the consequences if we assume they are and they're not."
He looks at the remains of the rock, expression thoughtful. He'll be there for a while, even after the others've all gone on.
"Here, Quinn- what's in these crates?" calls Jared, who's finally found the load they last carted off the hoverskid. "I can't read this alphabet."
Neither can anyone else, but that's all right. Lando Calrissian taught Quinn what 'press here to open' looked like, which was really all he needed to know. He presses his hand against the critical spot on the side of the shipping crate-
"Bloody hell!" says Jared, and from the sound of it the other men who've gathered around to see concur with him. "Where'd you get that many guns?"
"They're not guns, exactly," says Quinn as he lifts the first one out and examines it. "Not as we know 'em, anyway. They don't use bullets. The man who sold 'em to me said they run off some sort of power cell. Ought to be good for three years, if we don't put 'em to heavy use."
Ken, down from his vigil on the ramparts for a few minutes, gives a skeptical snort. "I suppose you'll say there's a sonic screwdriver under there somewhere next. . ."
"Nah. Just these." Quinn glances around, sees face after face wearing the same expression. Jared is the only exception. He's not so skeptical as the rest, and he quite wants to see, so Quinn offers him the blaster. "We ought to test 'em before we add them to the armoury- Jared, would you do the honours?"
"What, in here?" Jared's eyes flick up from the weapon for a moment. "You're joking, right?"
Quinn gives him a Look.
". . . right. Outside. What'm I to shoot at?"
"Oh, I don't know. First dragon to pass over the courtyard? One of the rocks, Jared. Use your head."
The young man flushes, but nods, and a few minutes later the knot of men is gathered behind him out in the castle's courtyard. There's a lump of stone about half again the size of Jared's head; this is carefully set atop a salvaged plastic crate, and then everyone save Quinn retreats several paces. For his part, Quinn figures he might as well see this from as close to the shooter's point of view as possible. If Calrissian really did sell him working energy weapons. . . well.
"Fire when ready, Jared," he says, hands in his pockets.
There's a moment of silence as Jared tries to work out just exactly how to aim the thing. It's not the sort of rifle he's held before. The balance is all wrong. He's not sure, either, whether he's got to brace for a kickback-
There's a pwing! noise as a yard-long lance of orange light flashes from the gun's muzzle. For an instant the lump of rock glows; then it falls into a dozen smoking pieces. The exclamations from the witnesses drown out the sound of its fall. Jared turns to stare at his foster-father, whose smile hides an overwhelming relief that this, too, turned out in his favour.
"Every one of those blasters gets tested once," Quinn calls out, once the chatter's died down. "I want everyone to know how to fire one of these things, but we don't need to waste the charges. After that they go in the armoury."
"Quinn?" says Eddie, stepping forward. "D'you reckon those'd be any use against-"
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. Everyone knows the enemy Eddie is thinking of.
There's a long silence.
"I dunno," Quinn says at last. "And I don't want to see us bear the consequences if we assume they are and they're not."
He looks at the remains of the rock, expression thoughtful. He'll be there for a while, even after the others've all gone on.