Chapter 762

Evenson’s excitement was entirely justified. A squad of Tyrants operating under Nemesis’s control would possess an astonishing amount of combat power.

Moira’s programming had effectively solved the Tyrants’ greatest weakness: their limited intelligence. If the system worked as intended in actual combat, all thirty Tyrants could function as an interconnected network under Nemesis’s command.

They would share visual information in real time, eliminating the need for verbal communication. Every Tyrant would know what the others could see, allowing the entire squad to coordinate its movements and attacks without a single spoken order.

No conventional military unit could match that level of coordination, regardless of how many years its soldiers spent training together.

Come to think of it, that suggested a name for the squad.

The Pain Squad.

Evenson nearly congratulated himself on the idea.

Instead, he turned to Moira.

"You’ve done excellent work. I’m very satisfied with the results." He offered her a rare moment of unreserved praise before asking his next question. "So, what weapons will they use? Please tell me you aren’t planning to send them into battle armed with nothing but their fists."

The remark was half a joke. Moira had already explained that the Tyrants could operate relatively uncomplicated weapons.

She reached for something beside her.

"They’ll be using these."

Moira lifted an enormous firearm, nearly as long as an ordinary person was tall.

Seeing a woman holding such an oversized weapon was a little comical. Even with her enhanced physique, Moira struggled slightly with its weight.

For a Tyrant standing more than three meters tall, however, the proportions were just about perfect.

"This is a Triple Pulse Machine Gun," she explained. "Gronos designed it specifically for the Tyrants."

The rear half of the weapon resembled an ordinary automatic rifle, but the barrel assembly was another matter entirely. It looked as though someone had taken three Gatling guns, scaled them down, and mounted them side by side. The individual barrels were somewhat smaller than those of conventional heavy machine guns, but there were enough of them to make up the difference.

Evenson examined the weapon with a doubtful expression.

"Conventional ammunition?"

He sounded disappointed.

Energy weapons were hardly cutting-edge curiosities anymore. Tony Stark had equipped his latest Iron Man armors with an assortment of energy-based weapons, while the Chitauri invaders had carried energy rifles during the Battle of New York.

Even two of Gronos’s assistants, the Benjamin couple, had somehow managed to repair a captured Chitauri rifle well enough to use it in a bank robbery. Evenson still wasn’t sure which bargain-bin university had issued their degrees.

Meanwhile, the Eredar Twins’ Eternal Night Sisterhood had collected a substantial number of Chitauri energy rifles during the chaos of the invasion. Those weapons had been kept for research purposes ever since.

Given all that, why had Gronos produced a conventional firearm?

Had the man been slacking off because his employer wasn’t paying him?

"Conventional firearms are actually more suitable for the Tyrants," Moira explained, noticing his dissatisfaction.

She rested the weapon against her side.

"Energy weapons certainly have their advantages. They’re relatively lightweight, offer excellent range, and can deliver tremendous destructive power."

"But they also have a significant drawback." She clicked her tongue in mild frustration. "Their rate of fire is simply too low. Each shot requires approximately 0.75 seconds of charging before the weapon is ready to fire again."

She paused to ensure he was following.

"From a tactical standpoint, that makes them excellent precision weapons for long-range support. They can engage individual targets effectively, but they’re less suitable for sustained suppressive fire."

Evenson nodded slowly.

He wasn’t entirely certain he understood all the technical details, but the general principle made sense.

The Chitauri energy rifles and the Dark Elves’ infantry weapons had both suffered from the same problem. Their firing rates were so low that even a World War II M1 Garand could give them a run for their money.

Asgardian anti-aircraft batteries were reasonably quick-firing, and the main guns mounted on their starships could unleash rapid volleys. Unfortunately, neither system was remotely practical for an infantryman to carry into battle.

Even a Tyrant wasn’t going to lug an Asgardian starship cannon around like a rifle.

"The Tyrants weren’t designed to be precision combat units in the first place," Moira continued. "Their role is to overwhelm enemies through brute force. They need weapons capable of delivering an enormous volume of fire in a short period. Conventional ammunition is better suited to that purpose."

She set the machine gun down and patted its casing.

"Besides, this isn’t a conventional firearm in the traditional sense. It doesn’t use an explosive propellant to generate expanding gases that push a bullet through the barrel. Instead, it creates an intense electromagnetic field to accelerate its projectiles."

"It’s a Gauss weapon."

Evenson’s eyebrows rose.

"Gauss weapons? Now that’s interesting."

"The underlying principles have been understood for a long time," Moira explained. "The problem has always been turning the theory into a practical weapon. Gronos studied the available research on existing Gauss weapons and filled in a few of the missing pieces."

She sounded almost proud of him.

"The result combines the high rate of fire associated with conventional firearms with projectile velocities and destructive power that ordinary ammunition can’t match. Its performance is comparable to that of energy weapons."

"Comparable?" Evenson asked.

"An ordinary main battle tank would be riddled with holes in seconds."

"Now that’s more like it."

Evenson examined the weapon with renewed interest. If it could punch through a modern tank’s armor while maintaining a high rate of fire, it was certainly nothing to sneeze at.

But something still bothered him.

"You said the underlying design isn’t particularly advanced, and Gronos only had to fill in a few missing pieces."

"Correct."

"Then why isn’t everyone using these things?"

Evenson frowned.

"Take Tony Stark, for example. The man is widely regarded as Earth’s greatest scientific genius. He can design energy weapons in his garage, yet he hasn’t equipped his Iron Man suits with Gauss weapons."

He spread his hands.

"And Earth isn’t exactly the technological center of the universe. There are alien civilizations capable of building starships and performing faster-than-light jumps. They know perfectly well that energy weapons have a slow firing rate. Why are they still equipping their soldiers with weapons that fire like glorified semiautomatic rifles instead of developing something like this?"

He glanced at the machine gun again.

"What’s the catch? Did Gronos fill in a few missing details, or did he somehow leapfrog the entire universe’s technological development?"

If the answer was simply that Earth lacked the technology, Evenson might reluctantly accept it. Even Tony Stark had limitations, after all.

But advanced alien civilizations?

They could build spacecraft capable of crossing the stars, manipulate energy on a scale that made human technology look primitive, and travel between worlds with ease.

Yet their infantry still carried weapons that seemed to demand a bayonet charge after a handful of shots.

What was the point of that?

Were they fighting wars according to some ancient religious tradition?

Moira’s expression grew uncomfortable.

"Gauss weapons do have one major drawback. Their size and weight are enormous."

She gestured toward the machine gun.

"This is the lightest version Gronos could design. If we tried to reduce its dimensions any further, its destructive power would drop dramatically. Worse, the risk of catastrophic barrel failure would increase to an unacceptable level."

She paused, considering her next words.

"The weight isn’t actually the biggest problem. With sufficient genetic enhancement, operating the weapon is perfectly manageable. I can lift it myself, for example."

She tilted her head toward the gun.

"But its dimensions are another matter. At my height, I simply can’t use it comfortably."

Evenson looked at the weapon again.

She had a point. Even if he ignored the weight, its proportions were absurd for a human-sized operator. With the stock braced against a shoulder, the trigger would be practically out of reach. Moving the trigger backward would ruin the weapon’s balance.

Still, that only explained why it couldn’t serve as an ordinary infantry weapon.

"What about vehicles?" he asked. "Mount it on a tank, an aircraft, or a spacecraft. Why not use it as a vehicle-mounted weapon?"

Moira gave him a helpless look.

"That creates an even more awkward situation. Once a weapon is large enough to be mounted on a vehicle, there’s little reason to use a Gauss weapon. At that scale, you can install energy weapons equipped with much larger and more efficient cooling and charging systems."

She shrugged.

"Those can achieve comparable rates of fire while delivering even greater destructive power."

"Oh."

Evenson finally understood.

Gauss weapons were too large and heavy for ordinary soldiers, but too limited to justify mounting them on vehicles. Their one great advantage, rapid firing, could be matched by larger energy weapons that packed a much harder punch.

They occupied an unfortunate technological middle ground.

An obsolete weapon that had never quite found its place in the world.

Why did these things always happen to him?

Evenson sighed.

"Well, never mind. The best weapon is the one that suits its wielder. At least the Tyrants can carry these things into battle and gain a tremendous advantage in infantry combat."

He glanced at Moira.

"For now, keep the specimens under your supervision. Once I have some time, I’ll contact people outside the organization and see about arranging some mercenary work for them. They can earn a little extra money while putting their abilities to use."

Evenson had already settled on his next step.

Sooner or later, he would pay another visit to the Collector.

The man might refuse to accept duplicate items, but Evenson could always summon another Dreadhound to offer him. They were cheap enough that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over parting with one.

In exchange, he would ask the Collector to introduce him to some contacts in the interstellar mercenary business.

Whether the Tyrants worked independently or joined an established outfit didn’t particularly matter. What did matter was their compensation.

Ideally, they would be paid in advanced technology.

Money was acceptable, of course, but it would be his second choice.

Moira’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

Just look at other scientists. No matter how prestigious their reputations or how brilliant their theories, most of them spent their entire careers confined to Earth.

And then there was her.

Her research was about to leave the atmosphere and venture into the wider universe, earning alien currency through interstellar mercenary work.

If only she could openly announce what she was doing! The scientific community would be talking about her for centuries.

Still, there was no reason to despair. Once her research fulfilled its ultimate objective and brought about a major breakthrough in human evolution, her name would be remembered regardless.

Seizing the opportunity, she hurriedly added, "If possible, I’d appreciate it if you could have them bring back as many trophies as they can. Alien tissue samples, complete corpses, anything like that. Living captives would be even better."

"Sure. I’ll keep an eye out."

Evenson saw no problem with that.

Even if the Tyrants failed to capture anyone during their missions, he could always purchase specimens on the slave markets. He had already seen that sort of business operating on Knowhere.

There were plenty of ways to acquire research material when money and a willingness to operate beyond Earth’s borders were involved.

Evenson was about to leave when something across the chamber caught his attention.

"Hold on. What are those?"

On the opposite side of the Tyrant containment tanks stood another row of specimens.

These creatures had streamlined bodies approximately two meters long, with their hips standing about half a meter above the ground. Their hides were covered in hard green scales, and their elongated heads resembled those of crocodiles. Their mouths were packed with rows of vicious, razor-sharp teeth, perfectly capable of biting off a person’s head and chewing through it without hesitation.

Their powerful hind legs bent backward at unnatural angles, while their forelimbs were only slightly shorter. Each forelimb ended in claws shaped like long, straight razors.

One look was enough to tell Evenson that these creatures could tear an adult human apart without much difficulty.

"Don’t tell me those are dinosaurs."

He examined the specimens more closely.

It was difficult to think of anything else that matched their appearance.

"You could certainly call them dinosaurs," Moira replied, raising an eyebrow. "A little while ago, one of our mistresses gave me a mosquito preserved in amber. It had lived during the Cretaceous period and had fed on dinosaur blood."

Evenson looked at her.

"The original plan was to extract dinosaur DNA from the blood and use biotechnology to bring the animals back to life. The idea was to establish a dinosaur theme park."

"Wait."

Evenson’s eyes widened.

Hadn’t that theme park idea already been abandoned?

Apparently, neither of the Eredar Twins had truly given up on it.

Those two are going to bankrupt themselves building a dinosaur park.

He kept the thought to himself.

He had absolutely no intention of saying it aloud. The twins had already invested enough resources in their various projects, and he wasn’t particularly interested in becoming the next target of their displeasure.

Aluseseth, however, shot Moira an unmistakably annoyed glance.

Why bring that up now? She had been asked to explain her current research, not resurrect an old project that had already caused enough trouble.

Moira, either oblivious to the look or determined to press on, lowered her head apologetically.

"Unfortunately, the mosquito’s blood contained only a very limited selection of dinosaur DNA. We could identify material from just three species."

Evenson nodded.

That made sense. A mosquito could only drink so much blood, even if it had been particularly ambitious.

Getting enough genetic material to identify three different dinosaur species was already a respectable result.

"The creatures you’re looking at now are Velociraptors," Moira explained, pointing toward the containment tanks.

"Oh."

Evenson nodded again.

So these were the dinosaurs that had probably been responsible for a substantial portion of the losses at every ill-fated dinosaur theme park ever conceived.

The kind of attraction that looked spectacular in promotional material and became a financial catastrophe the moment someone remembered that the exhibits were living predators.

"Of course, I didn’t simply reproduce the original animals," Moira continued. "I’ve modified their genes to improve their speed and reflexes, strengthen their forelimbs, and sharpen their claws."

She regarded the creatures with unmistakable pride.

"Every muscle and bone has been optimized for killing."

Evenson studied the specimens with renewed interest.

Moira wasn’t finished.

"I’ve also given them a specialized targeting capability. They can be guided toward designated targets by laser designation, much like guided missiles. Their intelligence is also considerably better than you might expect."

She smiled.

"These creatures could replace conventional military working dogs in almost every role. Drug detection, tracking, apprehending suspects, search and rescue. They could handle all of those tasks."

She considered the possibilities for a moment.

"As for guard dogs and guide dogs, I suppose that would depend on the owner’s personal preferences."

Evenson nodded thoughtfully.

The potential applications were certainly impressive.

But there was one question that mattered more than all the rest.

"What should we call them?"

He was already preparing to suggest a name when Moira beat him to it.

"Gonk."

She delivered the name with unmistakable satisfaction.

"They’re called Gonks."

Evenson stopped.

For once, he had been robbed of the naming rights before he could even open his mouth.

Moira folded her arms, looking quietly pleased with herself. These creatures were her creations, after all. Surely she was entitled to name at least one of them without seeking his approval.

Evenson considered the name for a moment.

"Gonk," he repeated. "Not bad."

He gave a small nod.

"Gonk the Hunter. That’s what we’ll call them."

Moira seemed satisfied with the compromise.

And with that, the Black Chapter’s collection of biological weapons had grown a little larger.