Joe Haldeman - Future Weapons of War

“You planned this, didn’t you?” I asked my rifle.

Again the rifle chuckled. “Kind of. Let’s move out a long distance. We don’t want to hurt

anyone.”

I walked for about five minutes, keeping the rifle in the sling to make it easier to carry. Just when I was about to stop, it said, “Here’s good.”

“I was just—never mind. Can I put you down while I set up the target?”

“Sure. Just keep me within reach.”

I nodded, although there was no one around to see me. I found a promising spot, set the rifle on the ground, planted the pole, balanced a rock on the end, and picked up my rifle again.

“Swing me around, please, so I can see the rock.”

I obliged, and then the rifle said, “Excellent. Let’s back up about five hundred meters.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not that skilled.”

“Don’t worry. I am.”

I shrugged, and walked, keeping my pace even so I could measure five hundred meters exactly.

Normally, I count my paces under my breath, but I kept quiet because I didn’t want to give the rifle any clues.

It didn’t matter. Once again, just when I was about to stop, it said, “Five hundred meters.

Perfect. Drop prone and face the target.”

I sighed and did so. I began reaching for the rear sight aperture but the rifle said, “Don’t worry about adjusting anything. I’ve already taken care of it.”

“You have? That’s… great.” I sighted the rock through the scope, aimed the rifle, and reached for the trigger.

“Wait,” it said.

“What?”

“Keep your muscles completely relaxed. You want good bone support. That will keep the sights on target.”

I tried to relax, but having my weapon practically ordering me around—well, it didn’t feel very relaxing. “Is this better?” I finally asked.

“Perfect.”

“So what do I do now?”

“You’ve fired other rifles before, haven’t you? Draw in a full breath, and then let it out halfway.

Then aim me and fire.”

I squeezed the trigger. The rifle snapped and sizzled, and kicked back with barely any recoil. A tiny bolt of orange fire emerged from the barrel and flew towards the rock. Within seconds, I heard an explosion coming from the target.

“Come on, let’s go check it out.”

I swallowed hard, stood up, and carried the rifle with me as I walked back to the target. When I got close enough to see it clearly, I stopped short.

The rock was completely blasted away, but the pole stood unharmed.

I lifted the rifle to my face and studied its sheen. “My God. What are you?”

“Your new best friend.”

More than anyone else, even the sergeant, Sam taught me how to be a soldier.

My buddies really didn’t know me as well as Sam did. I could talk to her about anything. She always backed me up, and sometimes gave me a new perspective on a training exercise or a combat mission.

That’s right. I said combat mission. With these new SM-rifles helping us out, we finished our training in three-quarters time and got sent to the front quicker than any of us expected. I found myself in a squad with seven other soldiers, commanded by a staff sergeant who was one of the first soldiers trained with the new SM-rifles.

Our first mission in the war, in conjunction with another squad in our platoon, was an attack on a munitions shed at the top of a hill. The enemy had dug in and was expecting a fight at some point.

What they weren’t expecting was us.

I had heard about units that were coordinated perfectly, having drilled over and over to work not just as a team, but almost as one mind.

With the SM-rifles, this conceit became true.

When the sergeant explained the mission plan to us—our squad would surround the hill and

begin shooting, drawing fire to allow the other squad to attack from behind—it seemed clear to me that the plan had been developed with the SM-rifle capabilities in mind. Coordinating our attack would have been possible with radios, but the rifles managed to communicate far more quickly with each other than we would have been able to. We took out that shed easy as anything.

Well… almost.

As we started blasting away, blowing through the walls of the shed with the phased plasma, the enemy soldiers inside began to flee. Not exactly according to our plan, but as the soldiers ran away from my squad, the other squad managed to pick them off.

Except for this one guy, who was braver than his comrades. He snuck out of the shed and dove into the foliage, where he began firing at us. Bullets whizzed by, and the guy to my left got hit in the shoulder. We fired back with everything we had, but it didn’t help. Every time we fired into the foliage, it was like the guy had managed to magically teleport himself into another hiding place.

And then Samantha spoke to me, quietly. “Johnny. This isn’t going to work. Stop for a second.”

I squeezed the trigger again, firing concentrated plasma into the foliage. “You got to be kidding.

We can smoke the guy out.”

“And then the fires would destroy the shed, and the mission goals won’t be achieved.”

“If I stop firing, the guy’s going to take me out.”

“Not if you listen to me. I can spot the guy better than you can.”

I sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Move my sight back and forth, slowly.”

“Can I keep shooting while I do that?”

“It won’t help.”

“It’ll keep me from getting killed!”

“Johnny, we’ve worked together for a long time. Trust me on this.”

She was right. Slowly, I swung her sight across our field of vision, giving her a chance to see if she could spot anything. And then the weirdest thing happened.

Suddenly it was like I wasn’t just inside my body anymore. Samantha was no longer just my weapon; she was part of me, and I was a part of her. Our thoughts started to come together. I was both the soldier aiming the weapon and the weapon itself. I felt scared for a moment, as if she was taking over my body, but it was more like she was in the back of my mind, and I was in the back of hers.

There he is, she said in my mind.

Where? I asked, and then it was like I could see the soldier through Samantha’s “eyes.” The world changed suddenly from all the colors of the rainbow to just two—a red outline showing me exactly where the soldier was crouched, and black everywhere else.

Is that him?

It is! Come on, Johnny! You can do this! Just aim and fire! I did. And I smacked that soldier right between the eyes.

The next day, the lieutenant spoke to the whole platoon, congratulating us on a mission well done. After we broke for mess, my sergeant took me aside.

“The lieutenant wants to see you,” he said. “Now.”

Puzzled and hungry, I headed over to the lieutenants office. When I arrived, he looked up and said, “Ah, Johnny. Good to see you’ve got your SM with you.”

“We were told always to keep her at the ready, sir.”

“Good, good. Is it on?”

“Yes, sir. But so is the safety.”

“Good. Always keep your weapon turned on, and charged.” He paused. “That was excellent shooting the other day.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please sit down. I have a question for you.”

As soon as I had sat down, the lieutenant surprised me with his question. “Did you notice anything unusual yesterday with your SM-rifle?”

I tried my best to look nonchalant. “Unusual, sir?”

He nodded. “Like I said, that was excellent shooting. Do you know how far away from you the enemy soldier was when you hit him?”

“Um, no, sir.”