My Big Goblin Space Chapter 63 - Marching Orders

Chapter 63 - Marching Orders

While my taskmasters had their instructions to iterate on the designs for the rest of the day, I made progress turning copper wire, a spare tal shaft, and so permanent magnets into our first electric motor prototype. It wouldn’t spin until I also rigged up our first battery, but it felt good to have sothing to do with my hands. Around lunchti, a shadow started to loom over , too large to be even a hobby.

“Alright boss, ‘ere ye go!”

Promo handed down the first complete rifle with a barrel attached. I took it, and nearly fell over forwards with the weight of the thing.

“Oof!” I huffed.

“Need a hand, boss?” asked Armstrong.

I struggled to raise the gun level. “Just gotta get used to the weight. Going to be a two-goblin team, I think. Like the heavy slingers,” I said. “Let’s get this test fired.”

My guard captain touched his fingertips together. “Maybe you ain’t should be the one what does the testing? What if it blows up?”

“If it’s lethal, it’ll transfer to another mber of the tribe anyway. But I’m not going to be anywhere near this thing for the test shots. We’ve got a setup with cord and I—” I looked up at the scrapper taskmaster. “You just want to be the first one to shoot it! You scoundrel.”

Armstrong at least had the decency to look guilty. “Chuck’s lads got the cliffies and Eileen’s crew got the gliders and she’s not even a hobbie! Even Neil’s boys got their poppers. What do the scrappers got?” he opened his hands, empty palms up. “We dress up like bushes an’ call out croc-knocker movents. I know it’s importy, but I was just finking maybe my lads could get the first o’ the boom-tubes.”

I looked down at the heavy rifle of ceramic and steel in my hands. “Boom-tubes, eh?” I looked at him. “Well, these certainly suit your sneak attack bonuses.”

“Whatcha say, boss?” asked Armstrong.

“I’m actually trying to hand it to you right now, but it’s too heavy,” I admitted.

Armstrong grinned, reached down, and plucked the rifle out of my hands.

“We’ll make ‘em lighter,” said Promo. “Once we get ‘em figured out.”

While it wasn’t exactly a feather for the scrapper, hobgoblins had substantially more mass, and Armstrong could swing the rifle and keep it sowhat level without help. He started aiming down the length of the barrel at a night haunt carcass the wranglers had managed to bring down in the night while the rest of us slept, making small explosion noises each ti he worked the action. The gun wasn’t loaded yet, but the action still gave a aty chunk with each crank of the lever underneath, and a thunk with the pull of every trigger dropping the heavy hamr. I wanted the parts to be as robust as possible so that they’d function even if the goblins decided to use them as clubs, instead.

“Ammo,” I called. Neil brought over a basket of bullets, and I took a handful of the fired shells that looked close in size to the rifle. I didn’t know if there were actual bullets made out of ceramic on Earth or if they would even work, but we didn’t have lead yet. Heck, I didn’t even know if these would penetrate the leather and rusty iron armor that the javeline maulers wore, so I’d set up an impromptu firing range with bits of salvaged porkbelly armor scraps and even a couple of roof tiles fired to ceramic plates.

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Armstrong pulled the action on the rifle back, and I loaded a handful of bullets into the internal magazine. Armstrong closed the action and I retreated to a safe distance as he peered through the sight.

“Like this, boss?” he asked, swinging the muzzle around.

“Don’t point that at us!” I shouted. He snapped the business end back down range and sank into his shoulders in sha.

“Just take it slow. Breath in, out, aim, and shoot,” I said, trying to rember any advice I’d seen on cop shows over the years. “Squeeze, don’t pull, keep both eyes open, lead your target, relax, but hold tight, square your feet, an—”

Neil nudged .

“Right. Just pull the trigger.”

I hadn’t expected it to work on the first try. And in fact, the boom was so loud and the gout of fire and smoke so great, I thought the rifle had exploded in my sapper’s hands. But about a ter to the left of the piggy armor I’d strung up, a water cask at the other end of a spiraling smoke trail blew a leak and started pouring out its contents.