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"The assault weapon is an industrial paint sprayer bolted to a shotgun," said Gadhavi. "There's also a heating mechanism attached to the sprayer to keep the duck sauce hot. That requires a heavy battery. Our prototype is fairly crude. The gun isn't balanced well. We're not weapons designers. We only made that one for the demonstration. Same with the shotgun slugs. Mass-producing those would take time, I suspect."
"We don't have time," said Wit. "We need to mobilize soldiers now. If a team of scientists unfamiliar with weaponry can retrofit a shotgun, soldiers should be able to do so in their sleep. Who cares if the gun is balanced or not? It works. That's all that matters."
"Even if soldiers do it themselves," said Ketkar, "we still need to supply them with detailed instructions."
"We will," said Wit. "MOPs made a site on the nets for sharing combat tactics with the Chinese military: stoptheformics.net. We upload the instructions there and wherever else we think the military may be looking. In the meantime, we contact every manufacturer in the world who makes a similar paint sprayer and we kick their production lines into overdrive."
"We'll need more than foot soldiers," said Shenzu. "We'll cover more ground if we retrofit military aircrafts with crop-dusting sprayers."
"That would take time," said Mazer. "You'd have to gut the aircraft to make room for the tanks, then build and modify the sprayers for every class of aircraft. Plus you'd need to train pilots. We could mobilize faster if we enlist aerial firefighters and seasoned crop dusters. Their planes are ready to go, and they have the needed skill. I consider myself a decent pilot, but liquid falls differently than cargo or bombs. It's easy to overshoot or drop too early. I'd much rather have a crop duster at the stick."
"And fire crews," said Wit. "The chemical reaction is so volatile, we should have two to three fire crews shadowing every assault team. In fact, China should immediately begin training a quarter of its army on fire control, particularly in urban areas. If we burn cities to the ground, we haven't done the Chinese any favors."
Mazer nodded. "Strike teams will need flame-resistant suits over their biosuits. Something that can withstand intense flash fires. We'll find plenty of those in heavy manufacturing and firefighter uni
ts. Maybe we ask firehouses and the private sector all over the world to donate what suits they have."
Ketkar stepped forward. "Yes, there is much to consider. And China would be wise to involve all of you in the strategic development of the operation. But unless China agrees to troop assistance, unless we have fresh boots on the ground, we won't make a dent in the Formics. Captain Shenzu, are you willing to face the cameras?"
"I should give the speech in Chinese," said Shenzu. "If it's coming from the heart, I should speak in Chinese."
*
Twenty-four hours later, Major Ketkar stood at a rostrum before a crowd of three hundred reporters, humbly thanking them all for coming. They had gathered inside a vast empty hangar at a weapons test site northeast of New Delhi. Behind Ketkar was a massive glass terrarium as big as a small home. The terrarium had been Ketkar's idea. He had ordered its construction early in the week and had filled the bottom of it with earth. Shrubs and small trees had been planted to simulate the terrain in China, and a projected image on the back wall showed a beautiful rice field in a green mountain valley.
"What would you have done if I had said no?" Shenzu had asked when he saw the setup.
"We knew you wouldn't," Ketkar had said. "You love your country."
Every seat in the hangar was taken. Most of the reporters were correspondents stationed in India and working for the major networks. Others had flown in for the event from Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Thousands more were watching the event live throughout the world. Holoprojectors and traditional 2-D cameras were set up all around the stage. A few special seats had been reserved down front for the Chinese ambassador to India and his senior staff.
An Indian Para Commando in a fire-resistant yellow biosuit was inside the terrarium holding the modified paint-sprayer shotgun. Gadhavi had wanted to use the robotic arms again, for safety, but Ketkar had flatly refused. "Soldiers will be doing this in the field. I want the press to see China being saved by a PC. Besides, you look like an idiot in those socks and gloves. Late-night comedians would have a field day with that. We need the world to applaud us, not mock us."
From his place at the rostrum, Ketkar introduced the PC and briefly gave an account of his impeccable service record and training. The subtle message was clear: PCs are excellent soldiers and would be an asset to the war.
Ketkar then turned the rostrum over to Dr. Gadhavi who walked on stage wearing a white lab coat over his oxford shirt and slacks.
"But I never wear a lab coat," he had told Ketkar before the presentation. "That's so cliche."
"You'll wear it and you'll smile about it," Ketkar had told him through gritted teeth.
They had rehearsed the presentation several times beforehand. Gadhavi really worked the crowd. They laughed at his two jokes, and listened intently as he went through the chemistry of it all. Ketkar had worried that this part was too dry and needed some more cutting, but Gadhavi had pushed back, and Ketkar had acquiesced. It had been the right decision. The crowd was hanging on every word.
Then it was showtime.
Inside the terrarium, a Formic emerged from behind a large shrub. A goo gun was strapped to its back, the wand in its hand. The special effects company had done its best to make the creature look fearsome and lifelike, and Ketkar had to admit they did an impressive job. It hung from a wire rig positioned in the ceiling and moved out like a marionette. A murmur from the audience. A few people gasped.
When the PC aimed the weapon, it was absolute silence. When he fired at the goo tank, and the Formic and goo pack exploded in a fireball of absolute devastation that sent Formic parts flying in every direction, the room erupted with applause and cheers. Some people were out of their seats. One woman near the front was actually crying.
For a moment Ketkar wondered if the demonstration alone was enough. Even the Chinese ambassador was cheering. But no, this was theater, the energy of the crowd. Beijing would be a different story. Shenzu was the piece de resistance.
Gadhavi waved and exited to another round of applause. Then Shenzu walked on stage. The crowd quieted. Another murmur went through them. A Chinese officer had not been on the agenda. Shenzu walked past the rostrum and faced them center stage. He waited for total silence, then gave the speech from memory in Chinese. English subtitles appeared on the front of the stage beneath him, visible to everyone. When he mentioned Sima's name, there was a murmur among the audience. Sima? The General Sima?
"He told me about his children and grandchildren," said Shenzu. "He said he would do anything to protect them. He asked me about my own children. Six-year-old Shidhu and two-year-old Mingshu. My duty to them is greater than all others, he said."
He gestured back to the PC in the terrarium. "I thank my brother in the Para Commandos and the good Dr. Gadhavi, who have worked so hard to honor General Sima's final request and to take steps to keep all of our children safe."
My brother.
